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alicemitch09writes · 4 years

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the catastrophic history of us

PAIRING: ryoumen sukuna x reader

SUMMARY: This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus the slums.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

A/N: This is a continuation and sort of prequel to 'written in the stars' which gives light on why exactly Sukuna killed the reader and what he meant by 'waited a thousand years for this'. It's been in my head for a while and was an idea I wanted to try.

From what I've researched, Ryoumen Sukuna is said to hail from royalty while some he was just there, so I kinda wanna explore more on his background and ended up crafting my own. I'm sorry if it's kinda cliche. I ended up using the already existing lore about him, but added a bit of my own to fit the story and the narrative I want.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus a grandiose palace, a benevolent being versus a power-hungry one, one who dances with the mystic arts versus one who challenges the fates, one royal highness and his royal spiritual advisor, - two very different beings destined to meet, destined to fall together, destined to be together.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

This is a story of two star-crossed lovers.

But again, to reiterate, this is not a happy story. There is no happy ending here.

Legends speak of a name, so feared and great that just the mention of it sent shivers down the spines of many – young, old, human, curses.

Just the mention of his name was akin to devastation and disaster, killing all forms of life regardless of status.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

Also known as ‘King of Curses’.

Call his name, and you are invoking yourself to a life of damnation, of no return, of death.

However, once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was once a simple man.

A prince to be exact, son to the Great Emperor, heir to the throne, general commander of the royal army, and quite possibly, the strongest warrior in the land.

Once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was a man of great power and privilege.

He could take soldiers with a swift blow of his sword, could conquer lands in a day, with only a swagger down the road that could bring the mightiest men quaking, could overpower just about anyone with only his presence - his menacing and great presence.

Wise beyond his years, versatile in combat, cynical, ambitious, and wicked – these were the traits of the soon-to-be Emperor? How unsettling. The kingdom would no sooner meet its demise and burn into flames than to shine brightly with a ruler with blood and warfare on his mind.

Many had thought so as well, yet did little.

For what can they do against someone who can promise dominion and power? They can all but kneel and acquiesce to his bidding.

He did possess a younger twin brother, but compared to his brother, he was passable at best. The brother doesn't talk much, says very little, but paid close attention to his surroundings, his companions, even to his older brother, whom he admired greatly.

It was sometime during his time as a prince when fate decided to play their hand.

But no one saw it coming.

Save for one.

The Emperor’s royal spiritual adviser, the kingdom’s revered onmyouji known only by the name (Y/N).

"That's quite the look on your pretty face, (Y/N)."

Sighing, the (h/c)-haired woman ever so carefully dipped her brush into the ink well before continuing her writing.

"Oya? No wisecracks this time?" the voice drew near, she could feel his hot breath beside her ear. "Is that any way to speak to your future king?"

Unfazed, she dipped her brush into the well again, careful strokes bleeding into the paper. "Truly not worth his royal highness' time if I even breathe or say a word."

Even without looking, she knows he's smirking. He knows he got what he wanted, ever the child.

Silence filled in. She, continuing on with her scrolls, and he, lazily perched himself awfully close to her side, sliding his gaze from her eyes, her face, to her kimono, to her nimble fingers.

From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he was fascinated by her very being. More so, when she revealed that she was to be the royal onmyouji with the ability to see all.

Technically, her position was better suited for a man, especially a man from a renowned jujutsu family – for trivial reasons.

However, no man could ever compete with one with an all-seeing eye, with impressive control of her cursed energy other than this woman, this strange woman.

No one else but her.

He would like to think that he became a man no long sooner after their first verbal spat, after their second introduction – having differing ideals and morals, never backing from the other despite their status. He and his twin had just turned 18, a prime age for the king to be. It was what drew them together in the first place.

From the moment their eyes met, he had unwillingly declared this fascinating woman as his and only his.

When she was finished writing, just as she laid her brush aside, a hand slammed on the table. She didn’t flinch, even as the man effortlessly picking her up into his arms. "Surely you must be bored from all that gibberish writing, eh?"

Allowing herself a genial smile, (e/c) eyes alit with life, she draped her arms around his strong shoulders.

"Must I remind you time and time again that they're readings?" Fingers slipped and carded through his locks, grabbing tufts of hair playfully. Tilting her head, she used her free hand to ghost over his strong jawline. “Your great kingdom would crumble would it not be for said readings. Lives would be lost. Blood will be shed. Your name tarnished and damned-”

"Blah, blah, blah, is all I can hear you say," pushing her against the wall, he welcomed himself between her legs, drawing himself ever so close to her. “Don’t you ever get tired of spouting bullshit?”

“Surely you would know,” she gasped as something hard pressed against her core. “that’s all your mouth is good for: running your filthy mouth.”

He met her smirk with his, hot breath fanning hers. “And here I thought you’d be this docile diviner.” Scoffing, he drew close. “Thank fuck I was wrong.”

Hot lips pressed against hers, just as the ink dried out and the shadows danced in the dark.

"We order you to join forces with us destroy Ryoumen Sukuna."

"I refuse."

Even she can't deny that the man she loved was a danger to everyone, probably to all of humanity. He was quick to be enamored with power, sadistic even in his means to achieve greater feats and exploit his foes.

Eventually, she saw how the man she came to love drastically turned into the cynical, malevolent King of Curses he was.

Mad with power, ambition, and glory, in order to achieve all and more he sought out the dark mystics that made him murder his younger twin brother granting him his grotesque figure - two faces, added appendages, and dark marks littering his body.

It started with a vision. Then came the prophecy.

Overnight, a brother was murdered in cold blood by his own, through his blood spawned the King of Curses.

Many months were soon bathed in more blood as he sought nothing more but destruction and chaos,

In the end, she knew what she had to do, what must be done, what must happen, what was foretold – even if it ends up breaking her heart.

"Could you do it?"

"...I have no choice."

This is it, she thought. The end.

The end of the beginning.

Fire licked throughout the field, soot rising from the ashes, craters, devastation lurked wherever the eye could see. There was even the occasional ice covered in blood, sometimes encasing

It had been a long, treacherous, arborous, and exhausting battle – sorcerers and Imperial soldiers against fellow sorcerers and curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers – especially the high-ranking ones from esteemed clans, set aside their petty differences for this one battle, to put down the King of Curses.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

It was a hard-earned battle, as Ryoumen Sukuna had with him a rather interesting set of warriors to fend off against them.

But finally, they got him.

In the middle of all this madness and bloodshed, a victor was finally declared.

And it wasn’t him.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?" He screamed, binding spells forcing him to his knees, his whole body weakened and paralyzed by countless battles and countless spells against him. “(Y/N)!? HOW COULD YOU!?”

She forced herself to hold him down as the sorcerers around her continued their spells.

Amidst it all - the undeniable pain, the humiliation of being pinned, the utter betrayal - Ryoumen Sukuna turned to her and only her, red eyes burning her very being, as though ready to incinerate and devour her on the spot.

At the front line, that’s where she was to be – supposed to be, as she was their leverage to get close to the King of Curses.

She was leverage at best, the one thing that can keep Ryoumen Sukuna down - despite the countless claims that no one and nothing can do so.

"In this life, know that you were always the man I hold closest to my heart, the warmth on a cold winter's day, the joy from a day's tiresome work. There is no one but you, Ryoumen Sukuna," she was openly crying now, uncaring of anyone and anything. "But in this life, we cannot be."

The spell had been cast, paralyzing Sukuna, allowing the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers to attack.

With the final blow, she poured a bit of herself into her final, most powerful spell. Sealing him and vaporizing any memory of her in it, emptying his being until he was but an empty husk.

"YOU BITCH! YOU LIED TO ME!" Despite being in constant pain, his body slowly reddening and wax appearing all over, he found it in himself to spout angrily at her. "WAS EVERYTHING A LIE!?"

Memories upon memories - of their first meeting, their first verbal spat, their next meeting, him cornering into a corner, of their first kiss, of their first night, of their many nights, of promises under the sheets, of eyes searching, of eyes yearning, of eyes hurting - voided one after the other.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU DEAD, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He doesn't mean it, she tells herself, adding more spells that caused him to scream in even more pain.

"Y-YOU FUCKING BITCH! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!" His eyes were blank, regarding her with all the hatred man could possess. "YOU'LL BE THE FIRST PERSON I KILL THE MOMENT I GET BACK!" choking on blood, he feels himself weaken. "I SWEAR IT! I'LL KILL YOU THE FIRST MOMENT I GET!"

A sob escaped her, as much as she tried to swallow it down. To no avail, she cannot fake her remorse, her pain. She knew it was the right thing to do, for the betterment of all – humans and sorcerers, but it cost her so much sorrow and pain.

"Nothing is a lie," she croaked, feeling the last of her energy leave her, tearfully gazing into the eyes of her beloved. "But I have to say goodbye."

And just like that, the King of Curses was no more.

And when the fighting was over, the Seer vanished without a trace.

It came abruptly.

Without warning, without a sound, without a whisper, without a call.

The end of the beginning.

Of when fate decided to try its hand with life, changing the course of all.

For a thousand years ago, the jujutsu society was at its high boasting about great families within their ranks and a seer to guide them all.

The seer, who were specialists in the mystics and great beyond, who helped build empires, defend against curses, win wars - the great seer revered, respected, and treasured.

Alas, this seer fled, vanished, and doomed the jujutsu society.

For without her visions, how can the sorcerers ever know of the truth and lies that the future holds, to protect them from whatever threatens them? Of the corruption that would soon waste them away? Their arrogance and overdependency on her visions became their downfall, yet few could actually attest to that.

The jujutsu world was a strange, fickle, archaic, and destructive kind with an equally disturbing system. A system unwilling to change, unwilling to adapt, willing only to lead by example.

After her disappearance, they were left with crumbs to pick up, on where she'd be for their next life - for without her visions, how would they be able to secure safety for themselves?

(how selfish of them)

Lo and behold, a thousand years later, and she would appear again, outside of Japan and born half a Gojo! What tremendous luck they have!

Without wasting another second, they sent their best sorcerers to abduct the child and took her by force from her mother, bringing her all the way to Japan.

Only they could have their hands on this seer, one they've waited for thousands for years, one who remains theirs, rightfully theirs, one who has to atone for her sins of leaving the jujutsu society vulnerable all those years ago.

Yes, this child must bear the sins of her ancestors, must live a life for the future of the jujutsu sorcerers.

She is theirs.

Theirs and theirs alone!

But alas, Gojo Satoru caught wind of the other Gojo, singlehandedly took her from them and took her under his care.

How dare he!

So long as he was alive, no way would they ever get their hands on the seer, the great diviner, the all-seeing eye!

How dare he!

Gojo Satoru who manages to effortlessly insert himself in situations he shouldn't be, halting or stopping decisions entirely, establishing his presence as the strongest sorcerer - a title that many of them cannot deny, with much disdain, he, who is without a shred of doubt, a threat.

The Gojo seer continued to live her life, foolishly and blissfully unaware of her true value. Foolish little girl!

The past and present converged into one another, tightly wounding and bounding, meshing and mixing in between the seems, for a future nobody knows, a future nobody is prepared for, but a future nonetheless for all.

However, unbeknownst to all - even to the jujutsu higher-ups, the Great Gojo Satoru, and his beloved little sister, the future in store was not kind. No.

It's as though the past comes back to haunt, to call out for sins to be repented.

Strange as it seems, it all went according to plan - Gojo Satoru finding out about his sister, Fushiguro Megumi sent to Sendai, Miyagi to fetch a cursed object and meeting Itadori Yuuji, Itadori Yuuji ingesting said cursed object and hosting Ryoumen Sukuna, reviving the King of Curses after a thousand years. Yes. Marvelous. All according to plan.

The characters were set, ties looming into each other. Glorious.

It was inevitable, that these characters had special ties connecting them with each other, keeping their lives intertwined, for such was the plan for the grander scheme of things.

There was nothing.

A sea of nothing.

Endless nothing.

It went on and on and on and on and on and on.

It was a nothing that comforting, a nothing where nothing existed, a nothing where nothing was felt.

It was a nothing with that - nothing.

The perfect word for it would be void, however, voids can still have something in them.

And there was red.

A field of red spread across, going on forever and ever and ever.

Curious, she got to her knees to inspect. A flower, it was a red flower with six umbels and a long stamen, blooming outward, as though seeking life. Fingering through its petals, her eyes followed along millions of them spread.

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down her. For some reason, she looked up, meeting nothing.

And yet, she remembered the feeling dwelling in her in a sea of nothing.

Yes, she remembered this feeling.

She knows that feeling.

"Where am I?" a voice cut through the nothing.

In front of her stood someone who looked exactly like her, except, one pair of her eyes had the trademark Six Eyes of the Gojo clan, there was a streak of white running down the right side of her hair, and she was dressed in clothing much different from hers.

Recognition fell upon her, blinking calmly as a faint smile graced her lips.

“Who are you?” asked the girl.

Her smile turned sad as she approached, crushing the flowers under her feet.

The same recognition fell unto her mismatched eyes, but probably not the same kind of recognition she had.

With the gentleness akin to a mother, she eyed the girl before her.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice echoing in the dark. “I’m sorry to have cursed you – all of you,” confusion crosses her face, it hurts her even more. “to have you all carry my burden." The red all around them seemed to glow, a vibrant, blinding red. "I’m sorry.”

Confusion continued to riddle her features, which makes this meeting just more bittersweet.

And then came rain, pouring down on them.

It washed over them, over the flowers.

And then nothing.

Come a thousand years later, and there they were.

A promise foretold, enacted finally.

He, a man resurrected from the dead, free from the curses that kept him away, taking what was rightfully his with her beating heart in his.

And she, a shell of a woman in the form of her now empty descendent.

At last, he had his comeuppance, at last, he got his revenge.

As he devoured her heart, feeling the remaining pieces of his powers return, as did the memories. What a cruel twist of fate.

Suddenly, his mind felt like a rush of water downstream. He could feel his immeasurable power returning, could feel in pumping his veins, yet at the same time, there were tears.

Elsewhere was Fushiguro Megumi, screaming over and over the name of the woman he had just killed – a scream of desperation, anguish, and pain. Why did it sound so familiar?

Finding a blackened uniform, hovering over a body laid in her own pool of blood, the boy continued to scream and scream.

Fushiguro Megumi was a man he couldn’t wait to see at his full potential for battle, another in his list of to-kills, having shown great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer and as part of the wretched Zen’in. But this was far from the man he knew, all he saw was a weeping boy, a boy who lost his mind as he was grieving, begging over and over a corpse, the corpse of his beloved.

Satisfied, he should be, right? Yet, why doesn't he feel it? Why does a part of him feel a great loss? Why does a part of him feel as though he was the one with a ripped soul?

A flash of white came to view, standing next to the crying boy, his stance was rigid, apart from that nothing with his back turned.

Kneeling, Gojo Satoru let his fingers press against the dead girl's eyelids, closing them shut. His hands fell to her cheeks, engulfing them in his large fingers, lingering, thumbs caressing her ice-cold cheeks. Once filled with warmth and life.

"Megumi," says Gojo Satoru, cursed energy just radiating off him. "mind if ya take yourself and (Y/N) aside?" lowering his blindfold, his cursed energy increased in power, reeking of maliciousness. "Things are about to get messy."

He met Gojo Satoru's murderous look head-on, finally getting that fight he long promised him.

And yet, as he stood there, tears leaked from his eyes.

Even with all his powers returned, him being at his full glory, his heart felt more hollow than before.

#ryoumen sukuna x reader #clairvoyant!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #angst #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic #alicemitch09 writes #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk angst fic

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justgleekout · 4 years

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Fic: Grease Monkey

Summary: Blaine goes to visit Kurt at 'Hummel Tires And Lube' but he is not prepared for the sight that awaits him.

Rating: T

Words: 1796

Read on: Ao3 and FF.net

Notes: I had this idea in my head for YEARS. Then I saw a post about this premise on tumblr and I thought “fuck it! This is my moment!” So I wrote it down. Please enjoy some thirsty Blaine ;)

I wanna thank my dearest beta @esperantoauthor (Esperanto on Ao3) for not only correcting my mistakes but also being super supportive and kind and actually teaching me shit! <333

I also kinda made art for this fic so y'all understand my vision. I hope you enjoy it!

The doorbell rang at the Hudson-Hummel household. Blaine was standing at the front door smiling in anticipation, bowtie in place and curls neatly trapped in gel. He and Kurt were going to breadsticks tonight to celebrate their one month anniversary. All right, not the fanciest place for a date, Blaine would admit, but they wouldn’t be able to afford much better anyways. And besides, Lima didn’t really have much more to offer.

Blaine was a bit early, so when Carole opened the door instead of his boyfriend, he wasn’t too surprised.

“Hi Carole. Is Kurt ready yet? We, eh, have a date. I’m a little early, but I thought-“ he looked inside past Carole’s shoulder to see if Kurt might be coming down the stairs already.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, Kurt’s still at the garage. He promised Burt to help out for a bit. I guess they’re running a little late. Why don’t you meet him there? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” Carole offered with a smile.

“Oh, eh, sure. I suppose I could do that,” Blaine said, with somewhat forced optimism. The idea didn’t sound as good to him as it seemed to sound to Carole. The last time Blaine had gone over to ‘Hummel Tires and Lube’ he had convinced Burt to give his son “the sex talk,” merely a week before becoming said son’s boyfriend. He and Burt were on good terms and Blaine always felt welcome in his house, but he would rather not relive the awkwardness of that moment, especially now that he had so much to lose. “Thank you Carole, have a nice evening,” he said with a small smile.

—

“Kurt?” Blaine called out when he walked through the open garage door into the workshop. He felt awkward and out of place in the big space filled with cars, machines, and tools. He had dressed up nicely for his and Kurt’s date so he didn’t dare to touch anything in fear of getting dirty. He just stood there awkwardly shuffling from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of Kurt. A moment had passed but there was no sign of Kurt or his father. I shouldn’t have come, Blaine thought. Kurt would want to go home to change first, before going on their date, surely. So Blaine was mostly there just to say an awkward hello and meet Kurt again a little later at his house, where they were supposed to meet up in the first place. He even felt a little relieved when no one answered. He started to walk away towards the exit to just wait in his car for Kurt to come home, but right when he reached the garage door he heard his name.

“Blaine?” Kurt appeared from behind a car. “I thought we were supposed to meet at 6? Did I get the time wrong?” He looked over his shoulder at a clock hanging on the wall behind him. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” His voice was soft and sincere.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I was a little early so I-“ Blaine turned around to face his boyfriend and his eyes grew big when he saw Kurt. He didn’t know what he expected, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Kurt was standing next to a shelving unit, leaning against it. He was wearing stained blue coveralls only halfway up with the sleeves tied around his waist to keep them from sagging down. He wore a tight fitting white t-shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he cleaned his hands and forearms with a small towel. His hair was messy and coming out of its usual hold of hairspray. And to top it off Blaine noticed a few smudges of dark grease on Kurt’s usually porcelain smooth face.

Blaine’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. He had never seen Kurt in any other state than perfectly put together. Not a hair out of place. Bowties, button-ups, skinny jeans, the works. He loved Kurt’s fashion sense. Of course he did. Kurt expressed himself through his clothes, so saying he did not like the way he dressed would just be another way of saying he didn’t like Kurt and that was too insane to even think about. Because boy did he like Kurt.

But there was something about this look, Kurt’s soft voice, his smooth skin and the elegant way he moved in contrast with the harsh environment of the shop, the dirt, and smell of motor oil, that made Blaine feel funny in his chest (and maybe in some other places too but he tried not to think about that right now!). Blaine felt like Kurt should look out of place here. But the opposite was true. Kurt looked downright at home in the shop and also like something straight out of Blaine’s fantasies. Kurt looked so.. traditionally masculine? Hot. He looked hot.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow when Blaine didn’t finish his sentence and just stared at him. “Are you alright?”

“I- Yeah I eh... I’m- I...” Blaine stammered. “Hi,” he finally managed to get out.

Kurt chuckled a bit, put the towel down on a shelf and walked towards Blaine. “What is it?”

“I- It’s just.. you look-“

“Ugh, I know. I look gross. I promise I’ll change before our date. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.” He gestured at his appearance.

“No!” Blaine practically yelled.

Kurt looked very confused. “No?”

“I mean, no, you look good! You look great actually,” Blaine said and could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“Really..?” Kurt said in a judging tone. “Blaine. I am a mess...”

“A fucking hot mess if you ask me” Blaine muttered with a seductive grin.

Kurt snorted but his cheeks turned slightly pink at the flirty compliment “You like this?” He asked.

“Eh, YES! God, look at you! You look like you’ve just come from a photoshoot for a car commercial.”

“You are unbelievable,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Everyday I try to put the most amazing outfits together and the one time you see me when I look positively disgusting, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“Kurt, you know I love the way you dress. But this? Now? God you look hot. You look so strong and rugged and sexy and...” Blaine was eying Kurt up and down while tracing his hands over Kurt’s arms. “Please, kiss me.”

“But you will get all greasy if I kiss you now,” Kurt quipped, but he put his arms loosely on Blaine’s shoulders anyways. Blaine noticed they weren’t completely grease free yet but he found he didn’t actually care about getting dirty anymore.

“Grease me up baby,” Blaine said with a big smile on his face, putting his hands on Kurt’s waist. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Blaine could feel the warmth of Kurt’s skin.

Kurt chuckled a little in disbelief before leaning in, kissing Blaine softly. But, the second their lips touched a low moan emerged from Blaine’s throat. Blaine’s grip tightened on Kurt’s shirt pulling him closer.

“Oh wow, you really do like this, huh?” Kurt said breaking them apart.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, chasing Kurt’s lips “Wasn’t that obvious?” he breathed, clutching Kurt’s shirt. “So sexy.”

Kurt looked at him questioningly at first, but when he looked into Blaine’s eyes he saw nothing but want. A dark twinkle appeared in Kurt’s eyes and he grabbed Blaine, pulling him towards a nearby car. Blaine was more than happy to be led and followed Kurt eagerly. Kurt pressed Blaine against the car. Once trapped between the car and Kurt, Blaine pressed his mouth back on Kurt’s. Pulling him as close as he could. Kurt’s weight was pressing down on him from head to toe. And Blaine couldn’t help noticing that their hips were pressed together as well.

Kurt put his hand against Blaine’s cheek and had the other pressed against his chest. He started to move against Blaine just a little. But it was enough to shoot fire through Blaine’s entire body. His hands moved over Kurt’s sides and back pulling on his shirt. God this feels good!

“No making out in the shop!” A loud voice pierced the silence in the garage.

Kurt quickly pushed himself away from Blaine. Frantically trying to straighten his t-shirt. “Dad!” He shouted indignantly.

“Rules are rules, kiddo. If Finn’s not allowed to make out here, neither are you.” Burt said before turning to a very disheveled looking Blaine “Evening, Blaine,” he said with a smirk.

“Mr Hummel- Burt! Hello! I am so sorry, sir! I- we didn’t-“

Burt started laughing heartily. “Don’t worry about it kid.”

Blaine turned scarlet and gave Burt a small, but grateful smile.

“I came to tell you, you were free to go, Kurt. But it looks like you took that liberty yourself,” Burt teased.

“Right.. thanks dad. I think Blaine and I are gonna go then.”

“Thanks for the help today, Kurt. You’re very valuable to have around at the shop.”

The smile on Kurt’s face grew. “You’re welcome. Happy to help,” he said to his dad before he turned back to Blaine. “Come on, let's go to my place; I need to change. As much as you might like this look, I am NOT going out to dinner in coveralls, covered in grease!” He winked at Blaine, took his hand, and pulled him to Blaine’s car.

Blaine ducked his head laughing to himself a little. “Of course.”

Once inside Blaine’s car, Blaine felt Kurt looking at him.

“What?”

“Should we talk about what happened in there?”

“I don’t know? What would you wanna talk about?”

“You having a grease monkey fetish and me grinding up on you in my dad’s shop, maybe?”

Laughing out loud for a second Blaine cleared his throat and responded, “Ehm, I guess I just like it when you take control like that. Especially when you look like,” he gestured at Kurt’s outfit, “that. Honestly, Kurt, you look like you came from a fucking porno magazine.”

Kurt lifted his chin up a little, his cheeks turning pink again. “Hmm, good to know. I suppose I liked it too. Feels nice to be wanted like that. I guess I never really had that before. Nor did I expect anyone to ever feel like that about me.” He smiled softly at Blaine. “You don’t look half bad yourself by the way. I didn’t really have a chance to tell you yet.”

“Thank you,” Blaine answered with a returned smile. “Let's go then, shall we?”

“Please. I wanna get out of these clothes!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

#glee #klaine #glee fanfiction #klaine fanfiction #Kurt hummel #Blaine anderson #my fics #my art #grease monkey

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wille-zarr · 4 years

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The Mandalorian: "Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Six ~ “Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated T for language; violence; angst

word count: 8.1k

chapter summary: you must make a challenging decision concerning your arrangement with din, but all is threatened when old dangers arise

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: uwu

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Six: “Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

“Tell you what, Starlight-” your father’s eyes twinkle down at you- “there’s no better place in the galaxy to make a tough decision than on the back of a speeder bike, going faster than your mother would ever approve.”

Great advice, Papa.

Too bad that advice is about to get you killed.

Though, you do have a slight suspicion that when he told you “fast”, he never meant quite this fast.

But then again, knowing your dad, maybe he did.

“Oh-” you reach up, wiggling your goggles down into position- “blast it.” Gritting your teeth tightly together, you accelerate the speeder bike, shooting over the dried desert landscape of Arvala-7.

The cool evening air prickles the exposed parts of your face like a thousand sharp needles sinking into your skin, but the discomfort doesn’t distract you. You stare straight ahead, focused only on the tangled thoughts rolling back and forth in your brain in a jumbled, glued-together mess.

“Running away? You’re good at that.”

Faster. Faster.

If you could just go faster, maybe the voices would fall behind, leave you alone.

You lean forward on the accelerator, pushing the speeder bike to its absolute limits. The old bike begins to vibrate under your body, rattling as if threatening to blow apart in a thousand pieces. If you were still that adrenaline-seeking teenager, you might would take that as a challenge.

But hey, you’ve cheated death this long. It’d be a shame to lose the game at this point…

That and Cara’s the last person you’d want to upset if you destroy her bike.

You notice a cliff-wall looming in the horizon, rapidly approaching at the speed with which you are traveling. With a sharp hiss, you slam on the brakes, bracing, squeezing your eyes tightly together as you spin around in tight circles.

One…

Two...

Three…

Four spins.

You stop.

You don’t fight the grin that stretches across your face.

“Banthaspit! Hell yeah.” You peel the goggles off your face, harshly rubbing your eyes with a dust-encrusted hand. “If I wasn’t forced into hiding, the Keolith racing circuit wouldn’t know what hit it!” you snort.

With a sigh, you kick one leg over the speeder bike, positioning your body sideways on the seat. You force yourself to slowly exhale, shivering as all of the tension pent up within you tiptoes its way up your spine, releasing out into the fresh open air.

A temporary relief. Your stress rushes back in droves to fill the void.

“All wound up. You’re all wound up,” you mutter under your breath, “for no reason!”

With a groan, you flop backwards … wildly flailing your arms as you fall back against the open air.

“YIPE!” you squeak, sliding right off the bike and landing back on the ground below with a sharp oof. Groaning pathetically, you rest your head back against the dirt.

Well, at least no one saw that.

You’re not sure how long you lie that way. Not long enough, if your opinion means anything. Eventually, you gather enough motivation to crack one eye open and grimace up at the darkening sky.

All of this- this melodrama! All because some Mandalorian warrior pinned you to the ground? With his body?!

…

Oh, shit.

A Mandalorian kicked your ass and called you a brat.

You’re done for.

Your face explodes into flames. You know yourself all too well… You crave the mysterious, the exciting… all of which your proximity to the curious, cryptic Mandalorian has brought you more than an abundance of.

You can no longer ignore the red flags ding-ding-dinging in your head.

Hell.

It would probably be a… bad idea… to travel in close quarters with the Mandalorian. Not with your overactive imagination working overtime hours. Besides, when you made the deal to travel with Din, you had no idea a child would be involved.

Those dark, piercing eyes of the Mandalorian’s son appear before you, along with a pang, a squeeze in your chest.

If…if a bounty hunter tracked you down on the Razor Crest- the child… he could be hurt and…and-

Grinding your teeth, you dig your nails into the palms of your hands until you are sure you must be drawing blood.

No. Never again.

You need to talk with Din.

You know what you must do.

-------

Pulling back up to the homestead, you are met by a herd of stampeding whomp rats, also known as the Sorgan children.

“She’s back!”

“Hello!”

“We’ve been looking for you!”

“Whoa, whoa-” you toss your hands up- “One at a time, will ya?” You crack a grin. “I haven’t been this popular since a Hutt promised me his eternal love.”

“Huh?”

“What’s a Hutt?”

“Ah,” you laugh, kicking your leg over the speederbike, “I’m only joking.”

“Look, Ms. Cara, she’s back with your speederbike!”

You tear your eyes upwards, inwardly cringing as you watch Cara approaching.

“Um, look, Cara,” you laugh, rubbing your arm up and down. “I-I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your bike, um…”

Cara crosses her arms, eyeing you with a pointed expression.

Oh, Hutt fudge.

“You wouldn’t hurt me in front of children!” You bounce back, placing the bike between you and Cara, ignoring the children’s shrieks of laughter.

Cara takes a few steps forward, inspecting her speederbike with a few brief glances. “I suppose it’s still in one piece… You sure left in a hurry.” Rubbing her hands across the handlebars, she continues inspecting the bike. “Didn’t have a chance to finish your self-defense lesson with Mando.”

Maker!

For the love of all that is holy, Cara-

“Wait-” she smirks- “are you blushing?”

KARKING HELLS!

“I’m. not. blushing.” you hiss through your teeth.

“She’s turning RED!” Birdie shrieks.

“But why?” Winta asks. “I’m confused.”

“I’m not!” Your voice cracks along with your composure.

Blast you, Cara!

If Cara wasn’t capable of twisting you up like a Bothanian Pastry, you’d have some choice words right about now.

“It’s red from-from racing this bike against the wind- is all!” You knit your brows and cross your arms tightly across your chest. “Come on, kids-” you wave your hand to the side, your strained voice giving yourself away- “I’m… I’m sure your parents don’t want you out after dark.”

“I’m so confused.” Winta sighs, trotting towards the huts with the five other children marching along behind her.

Birdie pauses behind the rest. Finally, he twists around and races back to you. Throwing his arms around your legs, he grins up at you with his adorable little missing-tooth smile, turning your heart to mush.

“See you at the bonfire!” As quickly as he threw his arms around you, he spins around and dashes away.

“Bonfire?” You raise an eyebrow at Cara.

“Yeah,” she sits back against the seat of her bike, checking over the instrument gages. “The villagers’ idea.” Cara flashes you a quick glance. “They always do this when a visitor arrives, me or Din. I do have to say, for a bunch of country folk-” Cara smirks- “they sure know how to have fun.”

Celebration. Stars, you haven’t attended a party of any kind in months! Parties were usually a thing of business for you on Nar Shaddaa. A way to make connections, play politics, earn some extra cash- whatever. The point is, they were rarely enjoyable. At times, they were downright miserable.

Maybe that association will change tonight. Yes. Yes, you will have fun; you will relax. No use getting all worked up over the conversation you must have with Din tonight…

Which is easier said than done.

“Well,” you sigh, throwing both hands on your hips and meandering away, “guess I better get cleaned up then.” You let your eyes sweep the homestead yard, noticing, sure enough, a bonfire is being constructed several yards away from Kuill’s hut. But more importantly-

No sign of Mando, thank the stars.

You aren’t prepared to face him just yet after that, um, tussle earlier…

“Sorry about giving you a hard time.”

You twist back around at Cara’s voice.

“At least, I’m sorry for doing it in front of little ears.” Cara shrugs, but she is hardly hiding the amusement etched in her eyes.

You snort. “Don’t lie.” Rolling your eyes, you spin around, marching determinedly towards Kuill’s hut. “See you tonight.”

-------

“YIPE!”

“Look, I’m sorry!”

“Fu-… uh, um, I mean, stars!” You clutch your scalp, wincing against the relentless barrage of brush strokes. You hear a snort from behind where you sit.

“You don’t exactly sound sorry, Omera.” You tilt your head backwards to find Omera, a hand on one hip, a brush in the other, shaking her head in defeat.

“I think the easiest option-” Omera angles her head to the side- “would be to just cut out the tangled bits.”

“Kriff,” you whisper under your breath, absent-mindedly tightening the bathrobe Omera lent you around your waist. “Well, still better than another twenty minutes of this torture.” You pout your lips like a child.

“Why is it so tangled?”

Twisting around in the chair, your eyes find Winta in the corner of the room, braiding her hair with a dark green ribbon.

“Eh-” you toss her a smirk- “I don’t think you’re ready to hear about Taek just yet.”

“Hmf.” Omera grunts. “Would this Taek story also explain why one side of your hair is a good bit shorter than the other?” You feel Omera’s fingers rake through the ends of your hair, tugging when they reach a tangle. “Look at that! It’s a good three inches shorter!”

A bright grin stretches across your face. “No, that’s a different story altogeth- OUCH!”

“Sorry!” The amusement in Omera’s voice is thinly veiled. “Get my scissors, Winta.”

“Bloody hells, Omera!” you hiss under your breath. “Why does everyone here take such enjoyment in tormenting me?” You lower your brow when you are met with a melody of snickers.

“What,” Omera laughs, “have the children been giving you a tough time? Or Cara? Din?”

Din.

You could really use your own Beskar helmet right about now. You feel the entirety of the blood in your body blast up to your face, radiating warmth at just the mere mention of his name.

It’s like the longer you avoid him, the more embarrassed you grow.

Tucking your face under the collar of the bathrobe, you are met with the sharp rap of scissors against your head.

“Hey!”

“Head up. Do you want straight hair?”

“Not if you’re going to keep doing that!” You crinkle your nose. “Have you even cut hair before?”

“No.”

“Maker!”

At the threat of being smacked with scissors again, you decide it is your best bet to remain perfectly still. Silently listening as Omera and Winta rattle off about what she should wear to the bonfire and what games the children could play, you feel the tension drain off your shoulders. It sounds just like a conversation you and your mother might have had once… The air grows thick, and you let your eyes slip closed, breathing deeply, imagining the room you sat in was that of your Sularian home…

A tug on your sleeve from a little hand rips you out of your reverie.

“What are you going to wear?”

“Hmm?... What? Oh.” You blink, struggling to gain back your composure. Your eyes focus in on the little face in front of you.

“Um, I guess what I always wear,” you sigh. “…Don’t have any other clothes.” A teasing smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth. “A krayt dragon ate them all up.”

Winta bursts into giggles. “It did not!”

“Nah, maybe not.”

“You could wear a dress of mine.” Omera interjects.

“Really?” Your eyes widen in delight. “Um, I- uh, could I have one with sleeves?”

Better safe than sorry… You can’t risk questions about your forearm tattoos. Besides, if

Cara and Din recognized them… things would turn, no doubt, a wee bit awkward.

“Of course! And just in case you wanted to-” Omera’s voice takes on a knowing tone- “Din and Cara will be heading into the nearest outpost tomorrow to buy up supplies before Cara heads off.” Her voice softens. “You could go along with them and buy anything you nee-”

“Blaster,” you yank around in the chair, ignoring the yelp of frustration from Omera. “Need one like-” you frown- “yesterday.”

“Fine, fine.” Omera lowers her brows. “Now, please, could you just keep your head straight?”

“Haven’t I been?”

-------

You step out of the protective darkness of Kuill’s home, grinning brightly to discover the homestead yard bounding with life. The flames of the bonfire dance, bobbing back and forth from one log to another, casting a flickering golden haze over everything in its vicinity. Chairs and colorful blankets are spread out, circling the fire. Smiling, you watch with delight as the children race around underfoot, their parents shooing them away from the tables overflowing with food.

Speaking of food, the wafting scent of it carries along with the light nighttime breeze, triggering your stomach into growling like a Rancor. With a wistful sigh, you begin to walk forward.

But, oh dear.

To get to the food, you must pass by Kuill, Cara, and Din, who’s standing against the wall of a hut, his armor gleaming reflected golden light. You don’t think they’ve noticed you… yet.

Stars, stars, stars! You haven’t prepared a mask for this. You aren’t ready to face him!

Gulping a deep breath of air, you rip your eyes away, pretending to be otherwise occupied with the starry sky.

Blast it all! How could you have been so manipulative, so charismatic on Nar Shaddaa and yet fail so miserably now?

Damn, you’re out of practice!

Carefree.

Confident.

Yeah, that’s what you’ll be. With a sharp nod of the head, you settle for a self-assured expression, hoping it’d be a solid enough cover, at least strong enough to resist any ribbing from Cara.

You instinctively reach up to your brow line to grab at what would have been your hat brim to lower it. Cringing, you stare at your open fingers. You really miss the protection of the hat… You feel… vulnerable without it.

Again, you’re beginning to more and more understand the appeal of a helmet.

“Wait, look!” One of the voices of the children interrupts your stride. “She looks like a mom!”

“Hey,” you snort, crossing your arms, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Your eyes widen with an unease only children with no filter are capable of eliciting as they corral you, inspecting your new appearance with an intense, terrifying scrutiny.

“Stars!” You back up a bit. “It’s just a skirt! Please be kind!” you chuckle and kneel down, ruffling up the hair of the littlest boy. Your face softens as you take note of the Mandalorian’s son peeking at you from behind the children, a bit shyer than the rest. Smiling, you give him a little wink, stealing a little grin out of him.

“Enjoy their fascination while it lasts.” Omera chuckles as she walks up, resting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “They shower new people with attention until another new face shows up and steals the spotlight. Din was the favorite until you arrived.”

“So then, I stole you guys from the Mandalorian, did I? I’m cooler than a Mandalorian!” You chuckle with the kids as you stand back up. You tighten the knot on the front of your blouse, uncomfortable with a sudden sensation of being watched.

You know, you can just feel, that the Mandalorian is staring at you.

Oh hells.

“But-” Birdie frowns, tugging on your skirt- “you can’t fight in that!”

“Fight?” You jerk your head back, trying to make sense of his words. “You planning to fight me or something?”

Giggles.

“No, Kelsa saw you with Cara. Said she beat you up. We all wanted to watch.”

“Yeah… well.” You feel your cheeks flame when a bark of laughter reaches your ears.

“Cara!” you shout, spinning around on your heel and staring daggers in her direction.

“Sorry!”

You are about to shoot off a snotty reply when your eyes are drawn, magnetized to the singeing glare of the Mandalorian’s visor. You instantly shut your mouth.

He stares you down, arms crossed in a relaxed manner, as he leans up against the wall beside where Cara sits. You suddenly feel very, very small.

Oh… Stars.

You frown at Din, shifting your eyes away from him. You immediately slip back into your carefully crafted persona, shaking off your unease.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been much of a fighter.” You twist around and face the children. “I’m… not very strong, much like you lot.” You sigh, pointing a finger at yourself.

You carefully tiptoe through your words. “I’ve busted my nose, broken bones, dislocated my shoulder-” you motion to each of these areas- “trying to fight with these.” Lifting both of your hands up, you clench them into fists.

Feeling a sly smile tickling at the corner of your mouth, you continue. “I think you’ll find the best fighter-” you let the smile grow- “uses this.” Pointing at your head, you chuckle and cross your arms.

“That’s fine and all-” Birdie frowns- “but I don’t see how your head could defeat the Mandalorian’s rocket dart things in a fight.”

“Rocket… darts?” You gulp. The things he hides in that armor... You steal a glance over at Din. His head is angled in that curious manner, watching your interaction with the children with great interest. You tear your gaze away, fearing your face would warm if you stared any longer.

“She means using your smarts, silly!” Winta groans.

“She is correct.” The new voice in the conversation belongs to Kuill. Grunting with exertion, he hobbles along with his cane to join the circle. The children immediately fall silent, listening reverently to the wise Ugnaught.

“Fighting isn’t everything.” Your face grows solemn with the respect that Kuill seems to elicit anytime he speaks. “Sometimes,” he grunts, “the most dangerous power… is held by the smallest among us.”

The way everyone sneaks glances with each other, you can’t help but feel everyone is in on a secret behind Kuill’s words. Discomforted, you clear your throat, letting your lazy outer rim accent slide forward.

“Gotta secret weapon, Kuill?”

Kuill’s chuckle is interrupted by a frowning Birdie.

“Maybe…” Birdie whines. “But we still wanted to watch a fight.”

You snort. “Stars, these kids are bloodthirsty.”

“Maybe if we asked politely, children,” Kuill grunts, “the Mandalorian would showcase some of his fighting prowess for us.”

The children burst into pleas and cheers, turning every ounce of their attention to tormenting Din into obliging them.

“It would be-” Kuill motions his cane at Din- “our honor to observe.”

Flopping his head back against the wall, the Mandalorian stares up at the sky. You bite back a grin when you hear him release a heavy, long-suffering sigh, detectable even at a distance.

“Stand back.”

The children and villagers fall silent, crowding together, as he shifts forward, stalking away from the building. Only the heavy clank, clank of his Beskar armor is audible, echoing in the thin night air. Everyone watches in anticipation, curious as to what the Mandalorian has in mind.

Plopping down on a blanket spread out on the ground, you cross your legs underneath yourself. A light dusting of movement against your hand startles you forward a bit. You gasp lightly, mouth falling open, as the Mandalorian’s son, the baby, crawls up beside you.

“Oh. Hello,” you chirp, taking his little three-fingered hand into your palm. “Um, ready to watch your Papa show off?”

He responds with a giggle.

Those large expressive eyes… stars! You want to turn into a pool of sugary liquid right here, right on this blanket.

Sweet face.

Sweet laugh.

The dagger twists in your heart. Grasping onto the necklace around your neck, you swallow hard, squeezing your eyes tightly together before opening them again.

You can’t think about her right now… not without losing it.

As if sensing your turmoil, the baby’s ears droop to the side.

“Don’t mind me,” you mumble. You take the baby into your arms, squeezing lightly. “L-let’s watch.”

You watch as Din freezes a good distance from the bonfire. “Cara,” he shouts with a wave.

You bite your lip, bursting with excitement when you see he has that big-ass rifle of his at the ready. He rests it pointing downwards, angling his head towards Cara as he crosses his gloved hands over the butt of the rifle.

You snicker.

Look at him.

Trying so hard to look bored. You know good and well he is thrilled to show off for everyone. You’ve seen his bathroom. Any man that uses as many hair conditioners as him would have to be a secret show-off.

Not to mention his sparkling, eye-catching Beskar.

“Diva,” you snicker under your breath.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the start of the show.

“Toss!”

Cara heaves back, launching something small and round into the air.

Din pulls back.

Rifle to shoulder.

Aim.

Blast.

A thousand sparkling, rainbow-colored lights rain down out of the night sky from the explosion, just like fireworks. You passively join the clapping and cheering, smirking to yourself as the Mandalorian continues raining sparkling shots in the sky as quickly as Cara can throw them.

You glance downwards, sharing a knowing look with the baby.

Yup.

Dad’s definitely a show-off.

You think he agrees.

After several minutes of this display, Din has adequately appeased the children’s lust for excitement and entertainment. Omera and the other two pairs of parents shoo the children towards the awaiting food. You watch from a distance as Din unloads his gun, striding towards Cara.

With a sigh, you stand, holding the baby against your chest, smiling softly when Winta motions to take him.

“I’ll take him to Momma.” Winta chirps. “I can feed him!”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. Pretty sure I had his stomach growling,” you chuckle, throwing Winta and the baby a quick wink.

You clasp your hands tightly together behind you and walk over to the side of Kuill’s hut shrouded in dark shadow. A longing smile faintly brushes across your lips as you watch the commotion centered around the tables of food. Sighing wistfully, you lean your shoulder up against the wall of the hut.

This is the closest you’ve been to recreating your childhood peace in years…

There’s a part of you that wants to ask if you could hang around for a bit... But the child you used to be on those snow-covered mountains is long-gone. You cannot replace what you have lost, what’s been taken.

Besides, you would only bring danger to these people if you stayed.

You have to move on.

The clank, clank of metal rips you out of your deep introspection. You spin around on your heel, unease building in your chest as the Mandalorian strides towards you, his rifle resting carelessly across his arms.

Okay. Okay. Don’t blush. Um, just… try not think about him on top of you.

Wait, that sounded bad. KRIFF. Now you’re surely blushing!

QUICK. SABBAAC FACE.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to focus on the present. As he moves closer, you didn’t need to see his face to know that a smug expression graced his face. You could see it in his stride.

Smirking, you cross your arms and lift your chin at him.

“Not too shabby, Din.” You raise an eyebrow when he stops to stand beside you, letting his weapon flip to rest the end of it on the ground. “You handle that big-ass rifle pretty well, I’d say.”

He grunts, rolling his shoulders forward, only enhancing his intimidating presence that much further. Leaning against the weapon, he tilts his head sideways to stare down at you.

“Pulse rifle,” Din rumbles, amusement lacing his tone. “And as I said before, you handled my rifle pretty well yourself, Ka’r’ika.”

“But certainly-” you lower your eyebrows- “not to a Mandalorian’s standards.”

“Nope.” He jerks his head to the side.

“Ah well!” You sigh and throw your arms out. “Well, then, were my fighting skills at least up to Mandalorian standards?” You bite your lip to resist the smirk tickling at the corners of your mouth.

A deep, raspy chuckle slips out from underneath his helm. He leans over you as he walks past.

“Depends on which Mandalorian you ask.”

Oh.

Oh Maker!

MAKER!

TACTICAL ERROR!

Slapping a hand on your forehead, you spin around to rush away from the hut, deeper into the hidden darkness as you berate yourself for mindlessly flirting yet. again. You would have run off to escape again, but the wafting food lures you into turning around and staying.

That, and you’re not about to steal Cara’s bike again.

With no Mando in sight, you grab a bowl of stew. Sneaking over to an unoccupied blanket beside Omera and Cara, you curl your legs up under yourself…

…And you practically bury your nose in the bowl to hide your face when Din sits beside you to be near his son. The baby gleefully reaches his little arms out for his father who takes over feeding him.

Kriff! How could this evening get any more awkward!

“So, tell me,” Cara asks, “why’d you decide to leave Nar Shaddaa?”

You drop your spoon, coughing as you choke on the stew.

“OH-” cough- “I, uh, you know-” cough- “got… um-” cough- “…tired of it.”

“Really?”

“…Really.”

Wow. That had to be the lamest lie you’ve ever told.

Cara stares at you, mouth tight as if considering whether or not to prod you further. Din is leaning sideways, occupied with his son, but you know good and well he is listening to every word.

You return Cara’s stare, unflinching, daring her to question you further. You’ll lie much better now that you’re prepared, thank you very much.

“Nar Shaddaa?”

You have never been more grateful for an interruption! You shift your eyes over to Omera.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

You snort, perhaps a little harsher than you intended.

“Yeah, well-” you pretend to be occupied with something in your stew- “no surprise. A lady such as yourself would never work there.” You place your bowl down and tuck your knees up under your chin. “Hutt and syndicate casinos… Enough said.”

“Oh.”

You feel a bit guilty for coming on so strongly in response to a harmless statement. You feel responsible to lighten the mood, show Omera you aren’t upset. Shaking your head, you flash a manufactured grin. “Stars, you should be grateful to not know what Nar Shaddaa is like… or wow!” You pretend to gag. “The Hutts!”

“I’ll drink to that.” Cara shrugs, swigging back something the Sorgan villagers called “Oriot Juice” that smelled suspiciously of alcohol.

“Cara…” Omera chides.

“What?”

Leaning back on your elbows, you chuckle. You begin mentally drawing away, leaving Omera and Cara to their fussing.

“What did you do there?”

You rip your eyes to the right, into the unreadable visor of the Mandalorian.

“You said something about… dealing cards?”

“Uh, yeah.” You blink, a bit taken aback. “For a short bit. I- uh- mostly performed.” You really hope he doesn’t prod for more details.

He turns his head away from you, and you could have sworn you heard him mumble something under his breath.

You need to shift the topic, fast.

“I sure do miss singing though.” You flash Din a cheeky grin. “All the attention, all on me.”

He makes a noise.

“That would be in character for you.”

You stick your tongue out at him for that. “Anyway, that guitar I brought off from Taek?” You smile slyly. “Let’s just say, through some creative finagling, I ‘acquired’ it hoping to sing on the streets to earn some cash.”

Your grin plummets into a scowl. “Let’s just say that it didn’t pan out.” You cross your arms tightly across your chest. “Cheap bastards,” you grumble.

The Mandalorian laughs, a deep, hearty sound.

You blink, stunned by this victory.

A laugh! Not a chuckle, you pried a full-on laugh from the stoic warrior!

Din leans in towards you, pulling you out of your elation.

“Well, we aren’t much of an audience,” he rasps, voice grainy through the vocoder, “but we’d be better spectators than what Taek provided.”

You beam. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond, just leans over on his side, his son tucked in beside him asleep.

You clasp your hands together. “I need my guitar!”

He looks in the direction of the Razor Crest. “Take my key unlo-”

“Nah, don’t need to. I grabbed the guitar out of the Razor Crest earlier today.”

He stares.

“But it was…”

“Yeah?”

“Locked.”

“Yeah.”

“…How?”

You blink.

“When I said I didn’t have any skills?”

He stares.

“I actually have a few…”

“…and you really should upgrade the Crest’s security system.”

…

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-------

You can’t believe your voice or feet or both haven’t given out!

Cara was right, these Sorganians know how to have a damn good party. When you provided the guitar, the villagers responded by pulling out their own traditional instruments.

For hours, everyone (minus one stick-in-the-mud Mandalorian) danced, spun, twisted, frolicked, and skipped until no one could barely move. As fun as all the rowdy dancing was, your heart felt warm, full after sharing your own traditional songs: one a love ballad and the other a lullaby in the Sularian language.

Exactly what the energized children needed to calm them down and help put them to sleep.

“Thanks again,” Omera whispers as she walks past you, carrying a conked-out baby inside the hut. “Those songs were absolutely beautiful.”

You only smile.

Watching the other parents carry their children in for bed, you can’t help but feel keenly…. bitter.

This should have been your life.

Should have been your siblings’ life.

Should have been her life.

…

Imperials, go straight to hell.

You clench your hands into tight fists.

“When you’ve lived as many years as I have-” you jump at Kuill’s voice- “you learn to recognize… patterns in behavior.”

“I-” you blink- “not sure wh-”

“Sadness. Anger. Loss. Fear.” He pauses to point his cane at you. “All I see in you. You’re on the run.”

Your jaw drops. “N-no-”

“It’s not my place to question.” Kuill, grunting, begins to move away. “I hope you find the peace… you seek.”

Was…

Was it really that obvious?!

You’re understandably shaken up after being directly called out like that by Kuill…

You… need some space.

Stalking, practically running, from the hut, you freeze mid-step, nearly falling over your own feet.

There he is, both arms resting atop the fence, helmet fixated on the stars. He almost looks heroic with the way his cape swirls around his legs in the light night breeze.

Well…

Good time as any to have that conversation with him.

With a begrudging sigh, you fidget with your hands as you quietly tiptoe up behind the Mandalorian. He does not move or make any indication that he’s aware of your presence, though you know by now that he must.

You grab on to the post next to him. Grunting, you begin scampering up the boards to try and sit on top of the fence beside him.

“Oh,” you growl, struggling to climb up it in a dress. “Blast this damn skir- OOF.”

Two firm hands grab at your waist from behind, steadying you.

“Easy, Ka’r’ika,” his voice, low, rumbles near your ear.

His grip releases.

You squeak something incoherent, your tongue tangling up on itself. “Um-” you nervously laugh as you balance sitting on top of the fence- “uh, thanks…?”

He leans his arms across the board right beside you, angling his helmet to stare up into your face.

“Go to bed.” He inclines his helmet in the direction of the hut. “You should rest.”

“Hmf.” You cluck your tongue. “Always telling me what to do. If you wanted me to leave, you shouldn’t have helped me up here.”

He lets his visor drop to face the ground, and you can’t help but hear the sigh that slips out from under his helm. Admiring the stars glittering against his Beskar, you follow Din’s line of sight as he shifts his gaze upwards.

You bite your lip, uncertain of how to broach your pressing topic at hand...

“The stars,” you stall, “are so bright here. That’s the only thing I like about living outside the city.”

You have Din’s full attention now.

“They remind me of the eka-worms back home on Sularia.” You sigh heavily, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion on your shoulders. “During the darkest, coldest part of winter, the worms would twist and weave the most breath-taking, astonishing nets of webbing, absolutely littering the trees with them until the limbs would sag under the weight.” You wave your hand through the air, re-imagining them in your mind.

A smile brushes across your lips, and you glance upwards. “In the moonlight, the webs would sparkle like stardust. Weddings, proposals, everything.” You pause. “We all wanted it done under those glistening webs.”

Your eyes finally fall back to Din, and your heart squeezes at finding him focused on your face instead of the stars.

He glances away as if considering something.

“What?” you prod.

“…How did you escape?”

You shrug your shoulders, leaning as back as far as you could without tumbling off the fence. “Would you believe I only survived the Empire’s bombardment because I was a head-strong, disobedient child?”

He didn’t answer; just continued listening to your story with full attention.

So you continue.

“I-I was twelve… Papa told me and my four siblings to run out the front door. Long story short, I went out the back.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and take a deep breath.

“Bombs dropped. I lived. They didn’t.”

Your shoulders stoop even lower, collapsing in on yourself, and you find that you don’t have the energy to continue pretending that you’re okay- that your life hasn’t always been one big… hot… mess.

“I- I found Grandpa c-coming up the mountain… to see… To find us. And- I was… I was running down it.” You cover your eyes with a hand. “He was the only f-family I had left... then he went and… died too.”

Your fault.

It was all your fault.

“Stars,” you mumble under your breath, lower lip quivering as you tighten your palms against your face.

“My family… they died, too.”

You rip your face out of your hands.

“Victims of the Clone Wars.” His voice is a whisper, barely audible.

“Well,” you sniff, roughly rubbing your eyes to hide your emotion. “I- I guess we’re not too different after all, huh?”

He shifts back on one arm, angling his body closer to yours.

“No, I suppose not.”

Maker, you feel really awful about what you’re about to bring up…

“Din, we’ve… shared a lot together in such a short time.” You purposely avoid looking his way.

You have to just say it.

“You should know that I am eternally grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me.” At that, you force yourself to face him. “I’d still be stuck on Taek if it wasn’t for you…”

His visor is glued to your eyes.

“Mando, I’m…I’m really eager to get to Keolith.”

Liar.

“So, I’m… leaving with Cara tomorrow.” You are taken aback at how hard it is to form the words, the pain squeezing in your chest. “Then I’ll jump on a transport.”

Silence.

“If… that’s what you wish.”

Even through the modulation, you can sense the confusion, the hesitation lacing his tone. Stars, you can’t even bear to look at him! How can you explain, make him understand you have no choice? His son’s safety, your own stupid overactive imagination… No, it just wouldn’t be a good idea to travel together.

“I’m sure you’ll be thrilled anyway to get me out of your ship,” you mumble, awkwardly laughing as you push at his shoulder.

He shifts, stepping back away from the fence, away from you.

He inclines his head to the side.

“Come here.”

Oh- OOF!

His gloves curl their way around your waist, and you slap your hands onto his pauldrons for balance. He drops your feet down to the ground, but his hands remain secured, glued to your waist.

“Go to bed,” he rasps. “You need sleep.”

His hands abandon your waist, but the warmth, the heat left behind burns long into the night.

-------

“Hey!” you shout out Kuill’s window. “Wait up!”

Cursing under your breath, you continue tucking your shirt down into your pants as you stumble out the door. Standing beside the two speeder bikes, Cara and Din watch, arms crossed, as you approach. Your fingers fumble around the brim of you hat, lowering it down till your eyes are practically hidden from sight.

Hell, you feel lousy. You hardly got any sleep after the previous night’s conversation with Din. You know he is just another random acquaintance, the same you are to him, but…

Oh, kriffing fine.

You like him.

You’re… you’re going to miss him.

Ah well, you’ll just have to be sure and annoy him a little extra today as a parting gift.

“I need a ride to town.” You stop and throw your hands on your hips. “Gotta buy a few things.”

“Sure,” Cara lazily responds, throwing a leg over her bike. “More the merrier, right?”

You grin and nod. “Thanks.” You throw your leg over the seat of the second bike, flicking on various switches.

“This is going to b- HEY!”

A hand grabs your shoulder, sliding you roughly back away from the controls.

“Hold up,” the Mandalorian grumbles. “I don’t think so.”

“Din!” You swat at his hand. “Stop, no! Let me drive! You drive like an old man!”

“I mean, he could feasibly be one, for all we know.”

“Cara-”

“Din!” you growl, tumbling off the opposite side of the bike. You leap up to your feet, but it’s already too late. Din is settled down in front of the controls, watching you with his helmet inclined to the side.

He places a hand on his thigh and jerks his helmet towards the open seat behind him.

“Fine.” You stick your tongue out at him and spin around on your heel. “Then I’m riding with Car-”

Cara blasts off, leaving a trail of dust wafting behind her.

Slowly, you turn back around.

Din shoves out a hand, motioning again to the empty speeder bike seat behind him.

“Kriff it,” you grumble, throwing your leg back across the seat. You let your body slip down, molding itself completely to the back of his armor. You reach up, lowering your goggles over your eyes.

“Fine,” you bark, wrapping your arms around his middle. “Let’s ride.”

He kicks the bike into gear, and with a satisfying rev of the engine, away you blast into the desert horizon.

Definitely faster than expected.

“Guess you took my ribbing to heart,” you think with a grin. You let your arms relax their grip around his midsection, resisting the urge to throw your hands up and feel the passing breeze.

His hand grabs yours, pulling it back tighter around himself.

“Fine!” you shout over the noise. “Mother hen.”

He releases your hand, and you sigh, snuggling down into his cape, relaxed in the knowledge that you are safe for a few more days, as long as you are with him.

-------

Din and Cara park out of the way in a side alley where the bikes should hopefully remain unnoticed and undisturbed. You walk ahead of them, staring up and down the main street of the outpost. You lift your goggles off your head, reading over the various shop store signs.

Ah, yes, you see exactly what you need.

“Cara, Mando!” You turn back around. “Meet you back at the bikes later!”

“Stay out of trouble.”

You flash Din a grin.

“Always.”

Your first stop is to pick out a few new garments to replace those that flew away for a permanent vacation with the smuggler’s crew. You’ll wait until you’ve actually settled on Keolith to replace everything, but a few undergarments, blouses, pants, and gloves, and you are good to go for the time being. You stuff these goods away in your side satchel.

It… feels strange to own things again.

Next stop: weapons.

With a downright mischievous grin on your face, you enter the shop like a kid in a candy store.

“How can I help you?”

“Yeah, I need a blaster pistol, preferably something small but still packs a punch.”

You pause, eyeing something out of the corner of your eye.

“And a vibroblade.”

Oh, hell yeah.

-------

Walking back in the direction of the speeder bikes, you turn the vibroblade over in your hands.

“Maker! This thing’s sick.” You try twirling it in your hand, giving it a toss, cringing as it flies sideways. “Um, no one saw that,” you mumble, picking it back up. “Guess I’ll need a little, uh, practice.”

Lost in your own amusement, you march around the corner into the alleyway, focused only on the viroblade in your hands.

“Hopefully, Cara and Din won’t tak-”

Wait.

Hold up.

Who are…?

“Hey!” you shout, throwing a hand on your hip, “I don’t know who you are, but those are not your bikes.”

You pause, cringing inwardly. You may own a weapon again, it’s still a pretty bad idea to smart-mouth strangers…

The blue Twi’lek male and a brown-haired human female, both cloaked in black, remain motionless, leaning against the bikes with their arms crossed.

“Uh,” you hesitate mid-stride, falling dead still. “…C-can I help you?”

The two strangers share a glance.

“It’s her?”

“It’s her.”

Oh.

…

OH SHIT.

You launch backwards, hand flying to your holster, but before you have time to even think, a blaster is trained on your head.

“Drop the blade,” the woman barks. “And carefully throw that blaster aside.”

“Shitshitshit,” you hiss through your teeth while slowly, cautiously obliging the woman’s demands.

Bounty hunters. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

No, no! You can’t- you won’t go back! Not for him!

“L-look, th-this has to be a misunderstanding-”

“Listen carefully,” the woman interrupts, speaking your full name aloud. “You’re the companion to the Mandalorian?”

Mandalorian… they’re… they’re not here for you?

You blink, mouth gaped open.

Oh, bloody hells!

What has Din gotten himself into?

“I am she,” you keep your hands pressed against the thighs of your legs. “But, specifically, which Mandalorian do you refer to? I know sev-”

“Stop being cute.” She marches over, grasping your upper arm with a steel grip.

“Hey!” you yelp against the fingers digging into your flesh.

“Against the wall.”

She pushes you towards it, sending you stumbling over your own feet. You press your back as tightly as you can against the wall, shifting your eyes in all directions for any possible escape…

Oh, kriff kriff what do you do what do you do-

“Listen carefully.” The woman takes a step back, crossing her arms carefully. As you stare into the eyes of what very well could be the reason for your immediate demise, you force your breathing to even itself out.

Stay calm.

Whatever it is, you can talk your way out of it.

They want Mando, not you.

“You assisted the Mandalorian in taking something that I must have back.”

Oh karabast.

They do want you.

“Whu-? Marek?” you blurt, mouth gaping open a bit. “Marek’s datachip?”

“It’s not Marek’s,” the woman’s voice turns harsh. “Marek is but an employee of a crime syndicate…”

“…On Nar Shaddaa.”

Your blood freezes.

…

Oh.

Oh no.

This….. this is bad.

If- if they recognize you…

You have to talk your way out.

“Listen,” your voice turns firm, commanding. “I barely know the Mandalorian. I met him on Taek. I know nothing about the chip or who he stole it for.”

“None of that matters.” The woman takes a step back. You try and hide your intense relief at the space she’s given you. You can’t appear weak, not right now.

“We only wish to have it returned.”

Somehow you seriously doubt that…

“We can cut a deal.” The statement tumbles out of your mouth before you even realize what it is you’re saying.

“The chip- it’s in his ship, the Razor Crest.”

Bloody hell if you know where it is! He wouldn’t tell you blasted anything! But if you can stall these two long enough… it will give Din and Cara time to figure out what’s going on and save your ass.

“Well-” the woman raises her eyebrow- “I suppose we know where we are going then.” She motions you towards the bike. “Drive, but keep in mind-” she waves her blaster- “this will be at you back.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you snort, “just all part of the business, right?”

Right…

-------

You slow the speeder bike to a halt on the side of the Razor Crest facing away from Kuill’s homestead. Though you originally whined to Din about the distance, you are now intensely grateful the Mandalorian kept the ship anchored way far off from the homestead.

Keenly aware there’s a blaster pointed at your back, you step up to the ramp of the ship with a gulp.

Locked door, of course.

Thank the Maker you’ve already hacked the system once before. This shouldn’t take long… unless you happen to make a few little- oops!- mistakes that cost time. As you walk up the ramp, inwardly, you begin cycling through the racing, rolling thoughts clambering around in your head.

“Stars! Where are you Din? They should have come back by now, found the speeder bikes gone… I drove slower on purpose. Do they know something’s wrong? Do they think I’m pranking them? Curse my mischievous nature! I bet they think I’m pranking them!”

“What are you doing?” the man harshly demands.

“Uh, I- uh- don’t have a… key on me.” You throw your hands up. “But wait! I can hack the system- no problem!” You nervously laugh.

They both share a glance.

“Fine. Hurry.”

You turn back around, smirking to yourself.

Time for a bit of stalling.

“I just have to pull on this-” Sparks.

“Re-wire this-” More sparks.

“Punch in this-” Fire.

“Get back!” The woman snarls, clamping the panel protecting the wiring closed to stop the flames from growing.

“Get. This. Door. Open.”

“Y-yes, sure, no problem.” You fling the panel back open and start back to work.

Oh stars…

You are able to stall no more than five minutes without raising suspicion. As you step back inside the Razor Crest, you feel absolutely sick to your stomach. Having these Nar Shaddaa syndicate members enter this ship, this home… it’s violating. This ship was a place of refuge, safety after your traumatic time on Taek. And here you are- with yet another new tangled mess.

“In the cockpit,” you bark, stepping towards it. You are yanked backwards.

“He goes first. Then you. Then me.”

Biting your lip, you slowly nod your head.

You lead them up and over to the pilot’s seat, sitting down and punching on all the buttons you can find. “It should be… ahh… here it is! Oh wait, no….”

“What?” the woman snarls, clearly growing very agitated with your obvious game-playing.

“The chip! It’s gone!” You fake a gasp. “Let me check down in the hold!”

Not waiting for any commands, you practically fall down the ladder into the hold, racing towards the far wall and punching at the buttons of Din’s holo display, feigning dismay.

“Gone! It’s- he must have it on him! Oh, karking hells!”

“Hmm.” Her face hardens. “How inconvenient.”

“Sure is!” You shrug, knocking the brim of your hat back. “Look- new plan. The Mandalorian- I’m sure you heard about how he surrendered for me… at Marek’s base.” You throw your hands out to the side.

Think, think, think.

“…So, uh, you hold me hostage. He’ll come.” You nod your head. “H-he’ll give the chip over. Especially if I talk to him.”

This- this is bad.

Stars! This couldn’t get much worse!

The woman angles her head, eyes boring straight into your own. “Hmm, he probably won’t surrender for you…”

“…But maybe he will for them.”

You blink.

Them.

You spin on your heel.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Hi,” Winta waves, placing the baby down on the floor.

“Are they bad guys?” Birdie grins, pointing at the woman’s blaster.

Things just got worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: @sana-katarn @barrissoffee77 @royalhandmaidens @dracos-jedi-marvel @sinnamon-bunn @theclonewarsbrokeme @obirain @beskar-boba @disneyjedi19 @kyjoraven @orla-dahl @babe-dont @jdjdjdididisisiei

a/n: YEAH SO THE STORY REALLY RAMPS UP FROM HERE

First things first, THANK YOU TO EVERY PERSON THAT LEFT A REVIEW ON THE LAST CHAPTER! Tumblr AND Ao3! Guys, I nearly CRIED at how sweet and kind they were! It REALLY pushed me, even through the challenging past few weeks, to write for YOU GUYS.

Guys, this is only half of what I was planning for chapter 6! As usual, the chapter grew OUT OF HAND! So the other half will be included with chapter 7, which, you'll be thankful to know, is already mapped out and ready to be typed up! After all, I did end here on a cliffhanger of sorts, so it'd be cruel to make you wait too terribly long! 😉 Let's just say chapter 7 is going to be a lot of FUN with DRAMA. (I might have laughed/cried my butt off when mapping it out...) And a lot of ANGST. 👀 I see you, my angst-loving fans. I'm here to D.E.L.I.V.E.R.

GUESSING GAME: A new character will appear in chapter 7! This character has been alluded to already in the story! Let's just say, it's NOT what you're expecting! Any guesses?

Last note, about two weeks ago, I did a clean up/edit of chapter one. As it was my first chapter, I didn't yet have a grasp on the tone/voice of the story. I cleaned it up to make it fit better with the following chapters.

ANYWAY, see you soon! Please leave feedback here or on Ao3 (wille_zarr). (Shoutout to @sana-katarn for inventing the term "hutt fudge" at my request. She's out here being the real MVP.)

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

Text

(Un)Wanted: Part 2

Read on Ao3

(Un)Wanted Masterlist

A child that sees demons in every dark corner is not a child that is wanted.

A child that cries and freezes and mumbles of terrible things is not a child that is wanted.

A child that jumps and startles and hisses is not a child that is wanted.

Unwanted things are purged from the Earth.

So Virgil runs.

In other words: Virgil is an outcast, ostracized and shunned for how he was born, forced to flee an angry mob only to stumble right into a fae garden.

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/Referenced torture, child abuse, and self-harm, nothing super explicit. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks.

Word Count: 10,227

Mortals have always been fascinating creatures for Patton.

They have so many…quaint little ideas about what they can do about things and such interesting ways of thinking about it. Some of them believe that they float in this strange grey area, using that to defend choices that harm or hurt other people. Some of them believe they were sent here with a purpose and they must fulfill it. Some of them don’t think at all.

It’s fascinating, but then…when your life is confined to a mere century, Patton supposes everything must seem so…heavy.

A shriek interrupts his thinking and he barely has time to step aside before a blast of magic swirls past him.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” He puts his hands on his hips. “Now, who threw that?”

He rolls his eyes fondly when the prince and the duke point at each other.

“Kiddos, not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm,” he says, creating a quick shield between them and the portal so anymore, um, ‘misfires’ don’t accidentally get through, “but do you even know what you’re doing?”

“You ask as if they ever know what they’re doing,” L mutters.

“Oh, please,” the prince huffs, “I am always in complete control.”

“Falsehood.”

“That’s right,” the duke grins, “sometimes it’s my turn.”

“We are not making the mortal live at the bottom of the lake!” The prince smacks his forehead with his hand. “The furniture would be absolutely positively destroyed!”

“And mortals cannot breathe underwater.”

“That too!”

“Ugh, you guys are so boring,” the duke huffs, “that’s the point! Then no one else would be able to get him! Plus,” he adds with a grin, “we could have so much more fun.”

“I find it highly unlikely that the mortal’s definition of ‘fun’ and your definition have significant overlap,” L says.

“Well, then we’ll just have to change that.” The duke claps. “The bottom of the lake it is!”

“It is not!”

“Is too!”

Patton and L quickly step back as the twins start squabbling again. L shakes his head disparagingly as the prince summons a sword. “We aren’t going to let them do this, are we?”

“No,” Patton agrees, “but they’ve got a point.”

“Well, the prince does make an effort to sharpen his blade on a regular schedule.” When Patton opens his mouth to clarify, L continues. “But I do not believe we have a grasp of how to create a residence for a mortal either.”

“I know.” Patton absentmindedly rubs his wrists, still feeling the aftershocks of the visions pushed into their bond.

It hurt. It had burned in a way that nothing ever had for a long time. And for a fae, that can be a very long time indeed.

Dropping his work to clutch at his chest, hunched over from the weight of what he’d felt had been agony on its own, and he’d dashed out to find the others, needing to know what hurts, what happened, please, tell me so I can fix it, only to find none of them, fearing the worst. Having to walk into the garden to see the others already huddled around a mortal—a mortal, the duke wrapped around them with everything but the tentacles. Having to be the one to say no, his own heart tearing to pieces with every word he utters, the feeling of the mortal trembling in his hold, the tension and fear brimming off of their skin, almost burning Patton’s hands. Feeling the horrible sick rush of terror when the other animals bumbled into the forest.

Hearing just what they thought of V.

After that, well…Patton hadn’t cared much about the rules anymore.

And honestly, considering who it was that pushed the visions in the first place, Patton’s not sure he ever stood much of a chance.

But one of the things about breaking the rules is that, well, there are no rules. There are no guidelines now, no strict set of things to follow. And when it comes to mortals, that can be almost as dangerous.

“Look out!”

“Wait, shit—“

“Pat!”

Patton blinks and suddenly the others are tackling him out of the way of another errant magic blast. As his brain desperately tries to connect the path from standing to being on the floor, L scowls.

“You two need to stop,” he says sternly, “we only have a few minutes before V comes through and if he sees this, it’s likely he will not wish to remain.”

“Sorry,” the prince murmurs, helping everyone up, “and sorry to you too, Duke.”

“Eh,” the duke says, brushing himself off, “we’ve done worse.”

“Yes,” L mumbles, “yes, you have.”

“L,” Patton says once everyone’s righted themselves, “did you manage to get a good grasp of the place?”

L nods. “It seems to be the small village in the northwest corner of the forest. The population is around two hundred. It is…unlikely that the land holds any significant powers.”

“Hmph,” the prince grumbles, lifting his hand obediently, “such a lack of creativity.”

In front of them, a village forms. Several houses line a small street, each with a slightly different size and shape. Behind them are ramshackle sheds, worn fences, and in the middle, a slightly larger building. Patton isn’t sure what the mortals use this one for, but it is considerably…shinier than the others.

“I suppose it is quite…” L struggles for the right word. “…plain.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” the duke sniffs, “where are you supposed to do anything?”

“Now, kiddos,” Patton says, “this isn’t about what we want, it’s about what V wants.”

“And you think he wants something blander than a piece of dead wood?”

“Hey!” The duke smacks the prince upside the head. “Dead wood is great, thank you very much.”

“I said blander than a piece of dead wood, you bumbling buffoon.”

“It’s what he’s used to,” Patton says quickly before they can dissolve into another squabble, “it’s better to go slow, right?”

“We have already seen that V can be overwhelmed very easily,” L agrees, “it might be best to…start blander.”

“Fine.”

And not a moment too soon, it seems, because the portal begins to glow. Patton turns around to see V step through, followed closely by J.

“Glad you made it, kiddo,” Patton smiles, “we’ve been waiting for you!”

His eyes widen and his chest clenches when V’s body seizes with terror and he freezes, still halfway out of the portal. J nudges him gently and V whimpers, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and baring his teeth in a snarl.

“Hey, hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs quickly, starting towards him, only to freeze when V shrinks back, “okay, okay, I’m stopping. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna get any closer.”

He crouches down, keeping his hands raised, feeling the others adopt similar positions of surrender. V’s gaze is still fixed on the houses, his body seemingly torn between wanting to turn and flee and never wanting to move again. Patton’s heart clenches when V’s breaths start to get faster and faster, the air whining in protest as it whips in and out of his lungs.

“V,” J murmurs, “V, listen to me.”

V’s head barely jerks.

“Come on, little one, just listen to me, you can close your eyes if you have to.”

Patton watches, a strange cocktail of relief and envy as J bends closer, whispering into V’s ear too low for the rest of them to possibly hear, one of his hands hovering just over V’s opposite shoulder. V’s eyes squeeze shut and slowly, slowly, he relaxes, his chin dropping to his chest. J continues to murmur soft words until finally V draws in a deep, slow breath and his arms finally loosen their death grip.

J looks at V with such a look of concern that it makes Patton wince in sympathy, only soothed when V gives him a tight nod. J straightens, still hovering protectively around V, and turns his attention to the others, the soft look of worry quickly morphing into stone.

“Explain.”

“We attempted to recreate the village,” L says, “in order to…not overwhelm V so quickly.”

J glances down at V then back up. “Yes, and I can see that worked out stunningly.”

“I don’t understand.” L looks back and forth between the village and the still-shaken V. “If…if the environment is familiar, it should elicit feelings of comfort.”

“Oh, no,” Patton murmurs, closing his eyes for a moment, “I messed up.”

“Don’t worry,” the prince says quickly, “it’s okay, we’ll—we’ll figure it out.”

“I think I understand.” Patton opens his eyes and looks up at V. “You thought this was a trick, didn’t you? That we’d pretended to take you in and then…brought you back.”

The very idea coils hot and heavy in his gut, settling there like a horrible sickly weight. It only draws itself deeper when V nods, his mouth drawn tight.

“What?” The prince’s cry shakes Patton’s core. “Why would—“

Patton holds up a hand, cutting him off, even though he can feel the anguish of the others burning through the bond. Even J isn’t immune; the hand on V’s shoulder flexes in the glove and he steps a little closer.

“And even if we didn’t,” Patton says brokenly, “even if we didn’t you—these…the only feelings you have about this place aren’t good ones.”

V lowers his head in shame, his fingers flexing in the fabric of his tunic. The urge to run and wrap him up in a tight embrace makes Patton’s limbs tremble.

“Get rid of it.”

“What?”

“Get rid of it,” Patton murmurs firmly to the prince, “bring us back to the field.”

“N-no!”

Patton’s eyes widen in surprise, and judging by J’s confused head tilt, he’s not the only one. Yet there V is, staring at him with a fierce look of determination, fire burning in his gaze despite the way he’s still curled around himself.

“…’no,’ kiddo?”

Patton knows he’s made another mistake the instant V’s eyes widen again. “W-wait, I didn’t mean—you don’t—that was a s-suggestion, not a—I didn’t mean to—I don’t want—“

V’s hands shoot to his hair, tangling in the strands and pulling.

“I didn’t mean to tell you what to do,” he manages finally, “please don’t be angry.”

Oh, kiddo…

“V,” Patton calls softly, “kiddo, we’re not angry.”

He smiles kindly when V peeks out at him from a little gap in his fingers. “Y-you’re not?”

“No, V, we’re not angry.” Patton places one hand flat against his chest. “You have my word.”

It seems to do the trick, though not nearly as well as he would’ve liked. V’s hands slowly inch away from his face, twisting themselves back into his tunic. Patton smiles encouragingly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assures, “I’m just a little curious why you didn’t want the village gone. If it’s…if it’s bothering you, then…”

Patton shrugs. “Wouldn’t it be better?”

“But you already…made it,” V mumbles, “so…”

The prince huffs. “Please. It took barely a moment. I do hope you don’t think so lowly of my skills, sweetheart.”

The corner of V’s mouth tugs up and oh, it’s the best thing Patton’s seen all day!

“It’s no trouble,” the prince assures, “plus…I must confess I am not a fan. I mean honestly, the utter lack of craftsmanship, it’s truly astonishing.”

“The point of this,” L says, making V look at him, “was to create somewhere you would feel more comfortable. This place—“ he gestures around— “was not exactly designed for mortals.”

“But we shouldn’t have tried to anticipate what you want,” Patton adds, “and so there’s nothing wrong with getting rid of the village.”

“Y-you mean this one…right?”

“Well,” the duke mutters darkly. Patton can’t find it in his heart to scold him more than half-heartedly.

“P-please don’t,” V stammers, “I…”

“We won’t,” Patton assures, far more concerned about making V feel comfortable than any sort of retribution—however rightly deserved—for the denizens of the village.

“Even if the duke does have a point, little mouse.”

Patton glances exasperatedly at J, only to be met with an expression of innocent bewilderment. He raises an eyebrow. J simply shrugs. Patton’s gaze gets caught by V, still shifting a little and sending quick glances at the village.

More pressing matters.

“V,” he murmurs, smiling again when V’s gaze jumps to his, “is it alright if I come a little closer?”

J’s brow quirks as V stiffens.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

V doesn't move, still wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“I’m sorry I scared you, that we scared you with this,” he continues, looking behind him to see agreeing nods from the others. He looks back to see V’s gaze losing a little of its frenzied edge. He smiles and gives a little wave. “Hey there.”

V doesn’t wave back or smile, but he doesn’t flinch either. Patton takes that as a good sign.

“You’re allowed to say no, V,” he assures, “that’s okay too.”

Nothing. Patton’s gaze flicks to J and J nods.

“What about this,” Patton says softly, “why don’t I move real slow, just a little, just so you can see how it feels, and then we go from there?”

V nods.

“I’m stepping a little closer, okay?” V lets him move a step closer. He crouches down again, keeping his hands in sight, still a good few feet away. “How are you doing, kiddo?”

Patton laughs when V’s able to convey his annoyance with the question with a subtle change of expression. “Okay, so, bad question. Can I…” He hesitates. “Can come a little closer? Is that okay?”

V nods carefully. “Y-you can—“ He cuts himself off.

“Say it,” Patton coaxes, “go on, V, you can say it.”

“You can…come all the way over,” V mumbles, “i-if you want.”

Patton fights down the urge to jump up and race over, instead confining himself to a small smile.

“Okay. I’m going to stand up and walk over to you. I’ll go slow so I won’t scare you. Okay?” V nods. “Okay. I’m going to stand up now.”

He keeps his hands raised and slowly stands up, keeping himself slightly hunched over to make himself seem like less of a threat. To his dismay, but not his surprise, it isn’t very effective. Even hunched over, Patton still looms quite large, his shadow blocking the light from the forest. When he notices V flinching, he stops, letting him get used to the fact that he’s standing now.

“Easy, easy, it’s okay.” He keeps up the constant litany of reassurances until he reaches V, carefully positioning himself so that V can look at him, just him, and not the village. It seems to do the trick, interrupting whatever feedback loop kept darting V’s gaze around the buildings, instead directing it at the various patched on Patton’s cloak.

“You’re doing great, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, “thank you for letting me come over.”

V shuffles again, sniffing and dropping his head. A moment later his shoulders shake and Patton can’t help the wounded noise that escapes his throat. J isn’t much better off, sliding neatly behind V to prevent anything from getting through the portal, even though they both know nothing will touch this one ever again.

“Sweetheart,” Patton says softly, “oh, sweetie, are…is this still too much?”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“And please,” L calls, “do not be ashamed of crying. It is the mortal way of handling anything overwhelming, you need not feel embarrassed about dealing with it in a healthy way.”

“Told you,” J murmurs.

“Can I touch you, sweetie,” Patton asks softly, “can I touch you?”

V nods shakily and Patton reaches out, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Here you are. Shh, you’re okay.” He moves his hand from her shoulder to his cheeks, wiping away a tear as it rolls down. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

V hiccups a sob, barely stifled. Each one settles like a dead weight in his chest as V’s chin drives deeper and deeper into his chest.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Patton says, gently cupping V’s chin in his hand and raising it, only to be dismayed to see his eyes glazed over and each breath sending him hurtling towards another panic attack. He takes his hands and places them on either side of V’s face, turning his head so he makes eye contact with him. “Hey, hey. Look at me, kiddo. Breathe.”

The forest is quiet.

“Shh, that’s it, just breathe for me.” He slides his hands down from V’s face to his neck, giving him a little less restriction.

“Good job,” he murmurs, smiling at V as he begins to go limp. “Come here.”

He coaxes V into his arms, letting his head fall against his collar as he shifts back to support his weight. He’s so…there. Not just in his body, a physical weight, but there’s such a layer of feeling that surrounds him that it presses down on Patton like another weight. He relaxes into Patton’s grip as he guides V to rest comfortably against him. He rubs V’s arms when he shivers, frowning at how cold he is. Steadying V with his hands and glancing up at J, he balances V against him before pulling away enough to shrug off his cloak, hushing him when V lets out a tiny whine. “Shh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere. He’ll keep you upright.”

He wriggles out of his cloak and drapes it carefully over V’s shoulders, smiling as it draws a sigh out of him and he shrinks under it. Wrapping his arms back around V, Patton lays his chin on top of V’s head and concentrates, trying to feel around for the sources of the fear and pull them away. V tucks his head against Patton’s collarbone. A damp patch grows on Patton’s shirt as he rocks V gently back and forth, shushing his cries.

“Shh, don’t worry kiddo, we’re here for you,” he murmurs, “it’s okay.”

He closes his eyes. Concentrates.

There.

“What are these,” he whispers, mostly to himself but to V as well, “these awful little things that are buzzing around you?”

They really are awful. They’re these fuzzy little black things that hurt if you stare at them too long, always vibrating, strobing at horrible frequencies that create a sort of whine in the back of your ears. On their own, they really aren’t so bad, at least when he can catch one of them by itself, but V…

V has thousands.

Thousands of horrible black whiny clouds buzzing around his head, around his whole body, swallowing him in a storm. Patton’s seen them before, not nearly to this quantity mind you, but he has seen them, flitting about behind mortals. Wretched little beasties.

“Are these…fears?” He freezes one in place, watching as it squirms in place. “Worries?”

Concentrate.

The cloud whines and dissolves. V’s breath catches.

“There’s no need for these,” Patton murmurs, catching another one and dissolving it, “you have no use for them.”

One by one he catches them, and one by one he makes them stop hurting V. They don’t want to go; they cling to each other, to V, to him in protest, yowling about whatever they want V to be so desperately afraid of, and it never makes Patton bat an eye. They’re hurting V, that’s all that matters. And Patton doesn’t like seeing V hurt.

With each one he vanishes, V grows lighter and lighter in his arms, his sobs trailing off until his breath evens, only hitching ever so slightly. When he’s finished, V pulls away, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“W-what did you do?”

Patton smiles, gently giving V a squeeze. “Just cleaned you up a bit, kiddo.”

“H-how?”

“I can sense emotions and feelings,” Patton explains, “it’s kinda my job.”

“…you’re the Heart.”

“I am, good job.” He bumps his forehead lightly against V’s. “That means I can sense things that you feel and…help you along.”

V chews on his lip. “…but I’m still scared.”

“Oh, kiddo, I can’t fix that sort of thing. Well, I can, but that’s…invasive,” Patton says, “and I’d run the risk of hurting you more. No, no, I didn’t do anything like that. I’m not trying to take your feelings away. I just…”

He brushes a thumb tenderly across V’s cheek.

“…dusted you off a little.”

The fluffy little bubble of relief that drifts along the path his thumb leaves is enough to make his whole chest glow.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” V mumbles, “um…thank you.”

Patton kisses his forehead. “Of course, kiddo. Now…can we talk about what just happened?”

V tenses.

“You can say no,” J reminds.

“…no, please?”

Patton nods. “Okay. Can I then ask you something?”

V nods, shifting a little in Patton’s grip. Patton opens his arms a little, enough for V to know if he wants to pull away he can, if he doesn’t, he needn’t. V takes a step back, wrapping his arms around himself.

“We wanted to make the village for you so that you would have somewhere you wanted to stay,” he says softly, “and it’s okay that we got it wrong. Could you tell us what you do want?”

“I’d be happy to make it,” the prince calls from over his shoulder—right, he’d somehow forgotten the others were still here— “just say the word.”

“Me too!”

“You guys,” V mumbles, “are the weirdest fucking fae I’ve ever heard of.”

Patton giggles. “Thanks, kiddo. That’s an honor.”

“…is it?”

Patton softens, waiting for V to look at him to smile kindly. “It isn’t bad to be different or weird, sweetie.”

“…oh.”

“So,” the prince calls cheerfully, “what will it be? Castle? Tower? Cavernous ballrooms?”

“Prince,” L chides lightly.

“Take your time,” Patton soothes when V’s eyes blink vacantly, “you take all the time you need kiddo, to tell us what you want.”

And oh, the unsure look on V’s face breaks his heart all over again. He looks so lost, like he’s been confronted with something he can’t hope to understand.

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he says softly, “it’s a lot to ask. But if it would be easier, you can tell us what you don’t want.”

“…I don’t want to go back,” V mumbles, “please don’t make me go back.”

“We won’t,” Patton promises, “we won’t.”

Sure enough, by the time he’s stepped aside and turned around, the village is gone.

The prince waves his hand again, dimming the natural light of the forest to something more tolerable for mortal eyes. Patton smiles. He does prefer their forest to any manufactured illusions, the prince or the duke make, if simply because it feels so alive.

V seems to relax a little bit too; when Patton looks back, V’s shoulders aren’t pressed up against his ears anymore, his gaze tracing the little sparks of light that flit between the flowering trees. One of them flickers closer, darting past his face quickly, only for him to tentatively try and reach for it.

“…what is this?”

“It’s the forest, V,” Patton says softly, “this is where we live.”

“How is it so…” V seems to struggle for the word he wants. “…alive?”

“Magic,” the prince says with a wink. “No, really. That’s…that’s it.”

“But it’s so…so…” V mutters in frustration. “I hate words.”

“You’re not the only one, little mouse,” J murmurs, his hand still lingering on V’s shoulder, “words can be…difficult. You don’t have to use them if you don’t want to.”

“That being said,” Patton says quickly, “you don’t have to be afraid to say things, kiddo. We won’t get mad.”

V nods hesitantly. “Wait, so you all live here?”

“Yep.”

“H-how does that work? Do you, like…have separate…trees?”

The duke immediately perks up. “I told you guys we should make treehouses!”

“You have a treehouse,” L sighs, “that doesn’t mean the rest of us want one.”

“Why not? It’s so much easier to defend!”

“Only when we can’t fly.”

“You guys can fly?” Patton hears V mumble to J. “What is going on?”

“The others are getting excited again,” he hears J murmur back, “but I’m sure if you’d like to just ask Pat, we’d be happy to tell you.”

Patton gives L a look that says ‘try not to let them destroy everything, please,’ and turns back to V, gently asking if he’d repeat his question.

“We have different…rooms,” he decides on eventually, “even though they’re not as simple as your mortal conception of them. It’s more like…like…”

Patton huffs, putting his hands on his hips. “Wow, words really are hard.”

“Here here,” V mumbles.

“Let me try,” J says softly, “it’s as if you have a picture, yes? And the picture is drawn over several sheets of paper. You can only view the complete picture by stacking all of them on top of each other, but you can take each piece of paper separately.”

Patton blinks at him. V does too. J rolls his eyes. “Perhaps L would be able to explain it better. And quickly,” he says, glancing over Patton’s shoulder, it looks like they’re about to start fighting again.”

“Guys!” Patton chooses to ignore the duke tucking a rather large weapon behind his back. “How do we explain how our rooms work?”

L adjusts his glasses and holds out his hand. “V? Will you come here, please?”

V hesitates.

“I won’t hurt you,” L assures, “I won’t even touch you if you don’t want. I simply think this will be the best way to explain it.”

“You’re not—you won’t—you won’t just take me there, will you?”

L smiles at V’s nervous question. “You have my word I won’t.”

V crosses the forest slowly, stopping just in front of L’s outstretched hand. Slowly, L raises his hand to face his palm toward V. “Can you hold your hand up to mine, please?”

“W-what’re you going to do to me?”

“Not a thing,” L says softly, “I’m going to explain how the rooms work by cycling through different layers of reality by aligning our hands.”

Patton watches V slowly raise his hand to match L’s, smiling at how he presses his palm to L’s firmly.

“Now,” L says, “just hold it still for me?” V nods. “Good. Reality as you understand it is one layer. It is one of the multiple worlds that exist in the same space. In this forest, we can move between them.”

“How?”

“Each one of us—“ L gestures to the other fae— “are linked with one of the layers. By drawing on that power, we can move between them.”

L turns his hand slightly, his index finger pressing up against V’s middle finger. “This would be a different layer.”

He turns it again, replacing his index finger with his thumb. “And this, another.”

“S-so,” V murmurs, squinting at their hands, “which one is this?”

“It’s not quite as…linear as this example,” L says, “there isn’t a set ‘right’ layer, nor must you travel through the other layers to get to the one you want.”

“But then—“

“Go on,” L encourages when V cuts himself off, “then…?”

V swallows, his voice so low Patton has to strain to hear it. “Then how do I know which one’s the right one?”

J tenses beside Patton at the uncertainty in V’s voice.

“There isn’t a universal ‘right’ one, V, and there won’t be,” L says, quickly shushing V when he seems to react poorly to such a revelation, “but you don’t have to think of it that way.”

Judging by the defiant hunch of V’s shoulders, he isn’t pleased by this answer. L seems to realize that and takes a tiny step closer.

“V? Can you do something else for me?”

V nods.

“Interlace your fingers with mine.”

V raises his head, confused, but does as L asks.

“This,” L murmurs, indicating their hands, “is the layer we’re currently in. Your layer. The mortal layer. This is the one that will be most comfortable for you. You can go to the other layers, but it won’t always be as comfortable. That doesn’t mean you can’t go,” he assures quickly, “but if it helps, this one is the ‘right’ one, so to speak.”

V stares at their clasped hands, giving L’s hand an experimental squeeze. L squeezes back.

“C-can I see your rooms?”

“Of course,” L says, “but perhaps not today, hm? This has already been a lot for you, hasn’t it?”

V nods nervously. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t fret,” L soothes, giving V’s hand one last squeeze, “we’re not angry. It’s perfectly understandable.”

“Absolutely.” Patton glances around. Hmm…what’s the best way to do this? “Are you hungry, V?”

Another nervous nod.

“What kind of food do you like?”

“Maybe not that question,” J murmurs when V seems to stutter again.

L gently gets V’s attention. “When was the last time you ate?” When V can’t answer, he continues. “Your system won’t take well to eating large quantities of food right now, in that case. It would be better if you ate something small, easy on yourself, and then work up to larger meals, does that sound alright?”

“Why don’t we do this, then,” Patton suggests when V nods, “J, you and the duke and I will start on the food. L, Prince, why don’t you help V make his room?”

L gently takes V’s hand again, leading him toward the prince. The prince gives them a nod before speaking softly to V. Patton sinks into his room, only to lean on the nearest surface and sigh heavily.

“Why are we not killing them?”

“By all means,” J huffs, “do knock over absolutely everything, Duke.”

“They starved him, they tortured him, they made him afraid of everything,” the duke growls, “they made him dependent on the sense of right and wrong.”

“Yes, and right now you’re currently about to be dependent on your ability to not knock over everything.”

“Pat agrees with me,” the duke defends, “don’t you Pat?”

Patton busies himself with making a simple bread. Easy, like L said, nothing that will cause V’s system to freak out. He keeps his mouth closed because he knows if he opens it, he won’t be able to stop himself going feral either.

“Of course I agree,” he says quietly after the bread’s almost done, “but I want to take care of V more than I want to raze that village to the ground.”

“But—!”

“Patton’s right,” J interrupts, “V wants everything to stop. If we go out and do that, it could make him even worse.”

“Or it could make him better!”

“We can’t afford to take that risk,” Patton says, kneading the bread with perhaps slightly more force than necessary, “especially not with a mortal.”

The duke grumbles. “I don’t like this.”

“I know.” Patton dusts his hands off. “Neither do we.”

“If it’s any consolation,” J says, smirking, “I think it’s the first time V’s had anyone be so outraged at the thought of him hurt.”

“Well,” the duke huffs, “good. I’m not stopping.”

“I have no intention of asking you to.”

“Good.”

Patton chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly. “Enough, you two.”

“You need help?” The duke grins. “Get it? Knead?”

“No, I dough-n’t,” Patton replies as J groans, “I’m all good here, kiddo. Thanks for asking though.”

J eyes the small loaf of bread and the few fruits next to it. “Is that really all we’re going to give him?”

“I’m going to make sure the food is available, but…” Patton sighs. “L’s right. You know he is. Too much and…”

J fiddles with his gloves. “I don’t like this.”

“Join the fucking club,” the duke huffs, draping himself over J’s shoulders. “We gotta wait here until Princey and L’re done with him, right?”

Patton nods.

“Great. Help me think of more ways to fuck up the assholes who did this to V.”

“Duke!”

Luckily for everyone, not a few moments later, a door appears to Patton’s left along with three quick knocks.

“Come in?”

The door opens, revealing L and the prince, leading V into Patton’s ‘room.’ V looks around, spotting the duke still draped over J.

“Oh, they do that all the time,” the prince says, “you’ll get used to it.”

“You say as if you don’t do it as well, bro,” the duke sings.

“Did you get everything set up, V?” Patton asks quietly, ignoring the others.

V nods. “Thank you.”

Patton tilts his head. “For what?”

“F-for…” V stammers, his eyes widening. L quickly gets his attention.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly, “we’re happy to help.” He gives Patton a look that says he’ll explain later.

Patton pushes it aside, reaching for the food and setting it carefully in front of V. To his surprise, V doesn’t reach out for it right away, instead eyeing it warily.

“Wrap it up, Pat,” the prince says, clapping Patton on the shoulder, “so V can take it with him.”

“Wait, what?” Patton stares at him in confusion. “Where’re we going?”

“You expect us to welcome this little darling into our forest and not give him the grand tour?” The prince holds an offended hand to his chest. “How dare you.”

Patton’s about to open his mouth to argue that V should be resting, that’s the whole point of this, but something in the prince’s gaze tells him to leave it. So Patton carefully packs the food into a small bag, before handing it to V. And he can’t deny it sends a rush of warmth through him when V’s shoulders slump and he holds the bag securely.

“So,” the prince says, sweeping across back to V’s side, “shall we begin? Duke, Pat, if you please.”

L gives him a nod, quickly joining J and starting a hushed conversation. Patton simply shrugs and follows the duke and the prince out the door. He quickly realizes it’s not the only one; there are five doors in the forest near a small house. It’s very basic, nothing more than four walls and a roof with a simple door. That must be the place they made for V. Glancing at his own door as it closes behind him, he notes that each one is a different color. Pale blue for his own, a rich gold for J’s, bright red for the prince, deep green for the duke, dark blue for L. V seems more at ease now that he’s back in the forest. Pat smiles. Good, it’s good to see V already getting used to being here.

J was right, the garden really did want him.

He also realizes the prince has been very clever about their little party as they make their way around the forest, from the clearing, to the lake, back to the garden. The prince and the duke provide wonderfully distracting arguments and Patton is well-prepared to ask all the dumb questions so V has all the information he needs. Plus, it’s nice for him to stay close to V while the prince and the duke dash around in an effort to be so overly ridiculous there’s low amounts of pressure to take them seriously.

At one point, they actually get V to laugh.

They’re at the lake; it’s one of Patton’s favorite places in the forest. The prince has control of the area around the lake and the surface of the lake, the duke has free rein below. Sometimes, Patton will sit on one of the big lily pads and just let one of the duke’s creatures push him around. The surface of the lake is like a giant mirror, almost glass-like, with a few delicate ripples on its veneer. The prince, of course, has a small violet bird perched on his shoulder, a fawn nuzzling his hand. The duke, by contrast, doesn’t hesitate before diving into the lake, sending sparkling showers of water droplets every which way before re-emerging, grinning, held aloft by something Patton couldn’t hope to describe.

There isn’t a doubt that V’s adorable little awestruck expression is the best thing Patton’s seen in a while. The way his fingers loosen their death grip on his bag of food, reaching out almost involuntarily to let the fawn sniff his hand, trying to hide to subtle hitch in his breath when a little pink tongue darts out and licks his fingers.

“She likes you,” the prince says quietly, smiling at the fawn as it tries to get closer to V.

“Is that why she licked me?”

“I think so.”

A second later, there’s a massive arc of water as something huge heaves its way onto the shore.

“Duke!” The prince snaps away the water as quickly as he can. “Keep your slimy pets where they belong!”

“Don’t be mean,” the duke says, patting the head of the massive tentacled beast with its head flopped onto the shore, “he’s just saying hi!”

Patton looks at V, who…isn’t afraid of the massive head now lying beside him. Instead, he looks almost…curious?

As the prince and the duke continue to bicker, V slowly reaches out his hand toward the creature. The creature inclines its head, letting V stroke along the strange bumps. Then it huffs loudly, spraying all of them with a viscous green goo.

“Ah!” The prince cries out in horror as he’s splattered. “Duke!”

The duke is too busy laughing to answer. Patton sighs, taking off his glasses to snap away the gunk. He puts them back on his face to chide the duke when he sees V.

V’s laughing.

It’s a quiet laugh, more of a slight hum than anything else, but V’s smiling and it sounds warm and rumbly and amazing and Patton can’t help muffling his happy noise at seeing V laugh. The prince seems to have the same reaction, stopping midway through his tirade and smiling softly at V.

The duke promptly falls off the back of the creature in shock. Then his head pops back above water and he grins.

“That means he likes you!”

“I like him too,” V mumbles, still smiling as he examines the gunk on his hands, “…not so much this.”

“Everyone’s got their opinions,” the duke shrugs, getting out of the water and shaking himself off like a dog, much to V’s amusement and the prince’s dismay, “but we should probably get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“I-if—“ V’s gaze darts around to Patton— “is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, V,” Patton smiles, “why don’t we go back to your room?”

The prince leads them back, stopping once they’re in front of V’s four walls. He taps V’s less gooey shoulder gently. “Do you remember what L and I said about your room?”

V nods hesitantly.

“Would you like any help?”

V glances around at them and Patton smiles encouragingly.

“N-no.”

The prince smiles and gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “Okay. That’s perfectly okay. If you change your mind, which is also okay, just knock on whoever’s door you want, okay? We’ll know it’s you and we’ll come.”

“…thank you.”

“Of course, V.” The prince deliberately turns around, snagging the duke by his shoulder and taking Patton’s hand. Patton gives V one last wave over his shoulder before the prince pulls him back through his door.

L and J look up when they enter, standing from their seats. J’s hands are still worrying themselves a little and L adjusts his tie.

“What did you tell him?” The prince’s tone makes Patton’s ‘paying attention’ glasses snap on real quick.

“Not everything,” L says, “I was waiting for you.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on, please?” The duke nods enthusiastically.

The prince and L exchange a glance before the prince gestures to L. L motions for them to take a seat.

“I’m sure it will not come as a surprise to you that the…mortals who were unkind to V controlled his access to food and water very rigorously,” L begins, “nor will it shock you to learn that V is not used to any modicum of privacy.”

It doesn’t, that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to hear.

“We—“ L gestures between himself and the prince— “did our best to assure him that his room is his own space; none of us will enter it without permission and he reserves the right to send us out at any point he wishes.”

The prince nods sharply. “And that he’s always allowed to say ‘no’ to things if we ask him.”

J raises an eyebrow. “Please tell me you gave him access to food.”

“Of course we did!” L nods in agreement. “He’s got a small garden and a tiny cupboard that connects to the pantry.”

“So I can refill it from here?”

“Or he can refill it himself.”

Patton nods in approval.

“That’s also what happens to his clothes,” L says, motioning to the other part of Patton’s space, “they’ll get deposited here when he wants them cleaned. We gave him some other clothes too.”

“I’m sure you explained all this to him too, right?”

L and the prince exchange a soft smile. “He asked for some of it,” L says, still smiling, “or at least brought up his concerns.”

Patton claps happily. “Oh, good for him!”

“Yes,” the prince murmurs, quickly sobering them with his low tone, “especially considering…”

“Right.” L takes a deep breath. “Surely you know this will not be as easy as simply giving him these things and expecting everything to work out.”

Patton tilts his head to the side. “It…it won’t?”

“No,” J says smoothly, “it won’t. It will take time. Mortals can be…remarkably hard to alter once they’ve been so used to something.”

A horrible sick feeling settles in Patton’s stomach again. He knows mortals are fragile, he knows that V has been hurt very, very badly, but the thought of it staying that way? When he doesn’t need to?

“He doesn’t know that yet,” J says patiently when Patton expresses as much, “and it’s going to take time for him to realize that. You said it yourself, we can’t just go in and fix everything. We need to let V do that himself.”

“At the very least,” L adds, “we’ve been trying to give him the tools to start.”

A soft thump makes them turn. Patton spots a small heap of dirty cloth on a nearby surface. He walks over and picks it up, fingering the worn stitches and the holes in the fabric.

The duke peers over his shoulder. “It’s V’s clothes.”

“He must be having a wash,” the prince says, “good. You absolutely drenched him.”

“That wasn’t me! It was Oliver!”

“What did you give him to wash with,” Patton interrupts. The prince shrugs.

“Modified version of the basins we use. Plenty of water, hot and cold, soap, things to clean with. Towels. Drains by itself too, right into the garden.”

“We gave him a proper room,” L assures, “a proper bed, a proper space.”

“You should’ve seen him,” the prince mumbles, “I never thought I’d see someone get so worried about being told they were allowed their own space. Especially a mortal, all the ones I’ve known have been so obsessed with taking.”

“You remember why, though.” As L speaks, the prince’s face darkens. Patton glances worriedly between them.

“What?”

L sighs. “It appears that…the mortals somehow convinced V that they were doing him…favors.”

Patton barely has time to blink before the duke is feral again. He reaches out and wraps his arms around the writhing mass of tentacles, joined quickly by the prince and J, muttering softly to the duke until the tentacles retreat.

L adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

“That’s why he freaked out when Pat asked what he was thanking him for,” the duke growls, “the sick fucks probably made him be specific too.”

“Our priority,” L interrupts before the duke can convince the rest of them to go feral too—honestly, Patton’s already halfway there— “is to help V feel safe.”

Patton nods, only partly listening as L keeps talking, turning the tunic over in his hands. It’s worn, very worn, and so thin that Patton can feel his fingers grind together when he rubs the fabric between them. Is this all V had? For how long? It looks so old…

Wait. Is that…

Patton lifts the tunic a little, rubbing at a dark stain. His eyes widen. J catches sight of it.

“That better be blood.”

At the mention of the word ‘blood,’ L stops. Slowly, he walks over, holding out his hand. Wordlessly, Patton hands it over. L takes it in his hands and if Patton looks very, very closely, his hands tremble.

L takes a deep breath and hands the tunic back to Patton.

“We cannot push,” he repeats with practiced calm, “we must make V feel safe first. And that means we must trust him.”

Patton doesn’t like it. None of them do. But they know L is right.

“And…with any luck,” L adds, “a good sleep and a regular meal should start helping him some more.”

It should.

It doesn’t.

For a while, almost nothing changes. V still holds his food in a bag when Patton gives it to him. His eyes still dart around wildly whenever he goes on a walk with the prince or the duke. He still prefers to hide away in his room, coming out when they request, denying them access with a tinge of fear.

His clothes still come back with stains.

Patton would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. This isn’t how mortals should be, they should be sleeping, they should be eating. But V seems to doggedly stay the same, still as tired and fearful as the day he stumbled into the garden. When Patton confronts L about it, L says that if he didn’t know any better, he’d say V wasn’t sleeping.

Patton doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to shatter this tenuous bond, not now, not ever. But he’s worried.

There’s always a faint buzz in Patton’s chest that tells him where V is. He tries not to pay attention to it, give the kiddo his privacy, make sure he feels like he can come to Patton when he wants to, not when Patton wants him to. He takes care to watch how he talks around V, moves around V, is as gentle as he can be. The faint buzz seems to settle a little better whenever V’s around him.

Then one day it spikes. Horribly.

Patton doubles over, pressing a hand hard to his own chest as the whine sharpens, pushes, threatens to snatch his breath away. Instantly, he looks for it, trying to find it, comfort it, come on, kiddo, tell me what’s wrong—

Where’s V?

Patton rushes out of his door, only to see V’s door wide open. With trembling footsteps, he slowly approaches, his heart in his throat, one hand still pressed firmly to his chest.

“V?” He calls softly, over and over, not wanting to intrude, but getting no response. “V, kiddo?”

He hesitates at the threshold. This is V’s space. They promised. He closes his eyes. Concentrates.

The pain isn’t coming from here.

He opens his eyes and focuses. There.

It’s one of those horrid little black clouds, buzzing away from a path leading deeper into the forest. Patton follows the noise until he’s wading through the clouds, pushing them out of the way, swatting the ones he can, until he sees V.

His heart aches as he takes in the absolute swarm threatening to choke the poor thing, curled up as he is at the base of a big tree. Patton gets a little closer, then crouches down and carefully, oh so carefully, pushes.

“V?”

V’s head jerks up, his eyes as wide as a startled fawn’s, his head jerking around until his gaze lands on Patton. Patton holds up his hands, smiling softly.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, still pushing at the swarm, “it’s okay. You just look at me, okay? That’s all you gotta do, just look at me.”

V looks. The swarm rushes in, trying to get between Patton and V but Patton focuses, the few clouds that come in between them disappearing into quick plumes of smoke. With each one that vanishes, the others seem wary, leaving V free to stare at Patton.

“Good,” Patton murmurs, “you’re doing really good, kiddo. Can you take a deep breath for me? In…and out…in…and out…good job, kiddo, just like that.”

The whine in Patton’s chest starts to die down, the rest of him aching to reach out and take V in his arms. The poor thing looks so scared…

“P-Pat?”

“Yeah, V,” Patton says instantly, “I’m right here, you want me closer?”

V reaches out a trembling hand and Patton doesn’t hesitate.

V clings to his cloak like a lifeline, still curled up in a ball, just his one hand sticking out. Patton lets V tug him close, huddling around him at the base of the tree, softly murmuring to him.

“Shh, shh, kiddo,” he says, trying to center his shield to keep the worst of the swarm out, “you’re doing so good, you just keep breathing for me, okay?”

It takes a long time. Much longer than Patton would like. But eventually, when the last of the whining has faded to a confused buzz, V’s hand relaxes, the fabric still all bunched up from the force of his grip.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to apologize, kiddo,” Patton soothes immediately, “you did the right thing.”

V looks up at him, eyes wide and rimmed red. “…I did?”

Patton smiles. “You did. You did so well, you breathed, you asked for what you wanted. You did so well, kiddo.”

And oh does it hurt to see how much just that one little piece of praise means to V, and how little he must’ve received.

Patton knows he’s not supposed to push. But then V reaches for him again with trembling hands and he can’t help himself.

“Come here, sweetie,” he murmurs, pulling V into a gentle hug, “there you go…you just breathe for me, okay? You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to worry, you don’t even have to think if you don’t want to. You just breathe…”

As he rocks V gently back and forth, he runs his hand down V’s head, across his shoulders, down to his back. V hisses and tenses when Patton’s hand touches something.

“…V?”

“Don’t be mad,” V stammers instantly, pulling away, “d-don’t be mad.”

Patton raises his hands. “I’m not mad, kiddo, I promise. I’m not mad and I’m not going to hurt you.”

The whine sharpens again as V tugs the tunic tightly around himself. Patton watches, concern written plainly across his features. He waits. Waits. Waits. Until…

“…I need help,” V whispers, his head almost buried in his arms, “please.”

“Of course,” Patton coos instantly, “of course, V, I’ll help you, what do you need?”

“C-can we go to m-my room?”

“Yes, sweetheart, we can go to your room. Do you feel up to walking?”

V clutches himself tighter. “…in a minute.”

“Take your time, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere.”

In a moment, V lets his head fall back against the tree and takes a deep breath. In another, he pushes himself to his feet. A few more and they’re standing outside V’s door.

“You can change your mind, kiddo,” Patton says gently when V hesitates, “I won’t be mad.”

For a moment, he thinks V’s going to say no, Patton can leave, please, then he clenches his jaw and reaches out to take Patton’s hand. He grips it firmly and lets V pull him into the house.

“…can you shut the door?”

Patton does as bid, having a quick glance around, making a note to commend the prince and L for their job. It’s a very simple house, but it’s cozy. He refocuses on V, who has his back to him, clutching the sides of his tunic.

V’s shoulders shake. “…it hurts, Pat.”

“Where,” Patton murmurs, “where does it hurt?”

“My…my back.”

“Your back, kiddo? Can I come look?” V nods, bowing his head. “Thank you, V.”

Patton walks over slowly, making his footsteps loud and obvious, so that he won’t surprise V. “Can I touch you, kiddo?”

“…please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t, sweetie,” Patton murmurs, “I promise. Can I lift up the back of your tunic?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Thank you.” Taking the material gently in hand, Patton starts to lift it up slowly.

“W-wait!”

Patton freezes. V’s breaths grow ragged, clutching himself tighter.

“I can leave if you—“

“No!”

V breathes. Breathes. Patton’s heart stays in his throat, holding still, trying to project as much safety as he can. It takes a few more heart-wrenching seconds before V shudders.

“O-okay. You can lift it up now.”

“Thank you,” Patton murmurs, starting to move again. He manages to tuck the end of the tunic around V’s collar, exposing his back.

And the scars.

Patton knew some whipped other mortals, knew that cruel mortals used their horsewhips liberally, but never had he seen the end result. Certainly not like this. Gruesome comets streak across V’s back of red and silvered white. The skin wheezes and stretches as he breathes. Some looked old. Some still wept, crying sluggish and lumpy tears of blood.

“S-sorry,” he hears V mumble, “I’m sorry.”

“V,” Patton says quietly, “V, I need you to listen to me for a moment.”

V nods.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Patton says firmly, “not for this. Never for this. This is not your fault, it will never be your fault. And I will never be angry at you for it.”

V’s back shudders with the weight of Patton’s words. Then his hands slowly drop to his sides. Patton lets out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“I can’t reach them,” V mumbles, “I…I need help.”

“Thank you for letting me help,” Patton says, lifting his hand and letting it glow, “these won’t take a moment to heal, you won’t be able to—“

“No, don’t!” Patton pauses as V cries out. “Don’t heal them, please, not completely, I need—I need to have them.”

Patton’s blood runs cold. “Why do you need to have them, V?”

“I—I—“

Patton glances around, spotting a stool. “Here,” he murmurs, summoning it quickly, “sit down, honey, you’re shaking.”

V sits, hunching over, bearing his back for all to see, the scars wincing horribly as he does so. Patton stays close, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder, just so V knows he’s there, that nothing will startle him.

“You don’t have to explain in detail if you don’t want,” Patton assures, “but…I would like to know why you don’t want them healed all the way.”

V mumbles something. Patton squeezes his shoulder.

“I can’t quite hear you, is it okay if I come a little closer?” At V’s nod, Patton crouches next to his head. “Thank you. Can you say it again for me?”

“If…if I don’t have them,” V whispers, “it’s like—it’s like it didn’t happen. It’s like I’m—I’m crazy, I’m wrong, I don’t—I can’t—“

Oh. Patton swallows. “You need them to remember,” he says softly, “to remind yourself that you survived.”

V nods.

“Oh, sweetie, thank you for telling me. I won’t make them go away, I promise. Would you like to at least make them stop hurting you?”

V nods again. “I…I can’t sleep. They hurt.”

Patton, who had stood up and begun lightly running his hand to close the wounds, frowns. “What about sleeping on your stomach or your side?”

V shakes his head quickly. “Can’t. It’s bad. I can’t—can’t do anything then.”

Right. Being on his stomach would put him in such a vulnerable position…and if he doesn’t want to…

“V,” Patton says, gently stroking an unmarred patch of skin with his thumb as he works, “do you not feel safe enough to sleep here?”

V’s back tenses under his hand and Patton rubs a soothing circle into it.

“It’s okay if you don’t, kiddo,” he says softly, “I’m not angry, I’m just curious.”

“…sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie, you haven’t done anything wrong. This is still new to you, you’re still coming to terms with the fact that you’re safe now, you’re somewhere else, away from them.”

“B-but…” V shudders again. “Y-you’ve been so nice and you haven’t hurt me at all but I can’t help feeling like—like—“

“…it’s only a matter of time?”

“…yeah.”

Patton hums, thinking as he finishes. He takes a damp towel and softly asks V if he can clean him off a little. As he rubs the soft towel in soothing motions, he says, “I can’t make all your fears go away, kiddo, nor can I tell you you shouldn’t be afraid. It’s okay that you’re afraid, really. We’ll be here to help you.”

“Y-you will?”

Patton gives him one last pat before he gently lowers the tunic and lays the towel aside. He walks around to the front and crouches, tucking a hand under V’s chin and gently encouraging him to make eye contact.

“Yes, V,” he promises, “we’ll be here.”

V’s gaze, so horribly unsure and scared, has just the smallest bit of hope in it, and that’s enough for Patton. He smiles, only grinning wider when V hesitantly smiles back.

“You also don’t have to sleep here,” Patton says, “you can sleep anywhere you like.”

An adorable wrinkle forms between V’s brows. “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo.” Patton gestures around. “We made this so you could have your own space, but it’s okay if you don’t feel like sleeping here. It’s okay if you never want to sleep here.”

He reaches up and gently rubs at V’s chest, right over his heart.

“You sleep wherever you feel safest, okay, kiddo?”

“Okay.”

Patton smiles. “Good. Good job, kiddo, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He stands, guiding V’s chin up too until he can lean down and lightly kiss his forehead. “Do you want anything else?”

“N-no,” V mumbles, “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Always.”

Patton leaves V’s room, carefully shutting the door behind him, before opening the door to his own and going inside. As he goes, he finds the latest bloody tunic and washes it personally.

Slowly, he dips the fabric into the water, scrubbing persistently at the stain. No more. No more. Never again. Never again.

No one will touch V again. Nothing will ever make those wounds on his back bleed. Not on his watch.

“Pat?”

“In here,” Patton calls, hanging up the tunic and going to meet the others. L stands in the corner, J by his side. The prince swings around quickly when he enters, pulling up the duke by his shoulder. “Thank you for coming so quick.”

“Of course,” L says instantly, “it was important.”

Patton tells them what he’s learned, leaving out any parts that V confessed to him personally. He won’t tell V’s story for him, just tells the others about things he learns to take care of him. As to be expected, they’re not happy about it.

“What else can we do,” the prince cries, “to make him feel safe? Are we not—are we not doing enough?”

“We’re doing all that we can,” L says, even as he nervously adjusts his tie, “but…it will take time. The fact that V feels comfortable enough to tell us this already speaks volumes. We must…simply continue being patient.”

“But if he’s not sleeping,” the duke argues, then—

“L is right,” Patton says, even as the duke grumbles, “we just have to…be patient.”

J reaches out, taking one of their hands in one of his. He squeezes, draws them closer. They wrap their arms around each other, buzzing gently. Patton knocks his head lightly against the duke’s and rests his head on J’s shoulder.

They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He’s not sure they realized just how hard it would be. But they’ll figure it out. They will. For V.

As it turns out, maybe they’ve made more progress than they thought.

The prince sends out a call the next morning, saying V’s not in his room. The duke tears off around the forest, J heads for the garden. L makes for the lake, Patton stays behind in case he comes back. But just as he’s grabbing a sack of food to give to V just in case they find him, he hears something soft in the pile of clean, dry clothes. He frowns, walking over, only to see—

Patton’s breath catches in his throat and he smiles so wide his cheeks ache.

V is curled up in the warm pile, clinging to one of J’s cloaks and one of Patton’s shirts draped around his shoulders. For the first time since Patton’s seen him, his face is slack, free of any stress or tension. He looks young, peaceful.

It’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

Yeah, he thinks as he lets the others know he’s found V, everything’s okay, we’ll figure it out.

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind.

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly.

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?”

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it.

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina

#sanders sides #ts sides #logince #creativitwins #ts roman #roman sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #sympathetic remus #long post #my fic #*blows kiss to my collection of disney movies*#this one's for you roman #happy birthday to the best gay disney prince

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writer-dreams · 4 years

Text

Matchmaker (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Hi everyone! So....I know that it's been a while but I've recently joined a writing challenge called Cliche Month Challenge. It was made by @wreckofawriter (thank you so much for inviting me). Expect 2 more fics for this challenge. Also, I'm so sorry about being slow with requests, I am still writing them, I'm just being a turtle. This was really fun to write and I'm excited to write the other 2.

Prompt: 5 times Pansy and Theo failed to get Draco and Y/n together, and the 1 time they succeeded.

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Underage drinking, possible swearing, slight angst

Word Count: 4,822 words

A/n: If I'm being honest, this is a little messy and the point of view changes quite randomly at times. I'll also admit that it does seem pretty repetitive (heh). The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV

Pansy and Theo snickered to each other in one of the hidden corners in the empty corridor. They watched as Y/n and Draco bumped into each other, waiting for the scene to unfold. For years, Pansy and Theo had to watch as the two friends fell deeper in love with each other but refused to confess their feelings because they were afraid it would ruin their friendship. Pansy was almost at the point where she almost screamed out to Draco that Y/n loved him so much and that she was sick of watching them dance around each other. Theo, on the other hand, found the two's obliviousness amusing and he wanted to see how many times he had to push them in the right direction before they confessed. So, the two teamed up to try and get their friends together to stop their useless pining. They continued to watch, listening in to the conversation between the two.

"Oh, sorry Dray, I didn't see you there." Y/n chuckled, feeling a light blush dust her cheeks.

"I didn't see you there either, (N/n)." Draco smiled back at her, blushing as well.

They stared at each other, an awkward silence now filling the room. Y/n couldn't tear her eyes away from Draco's grey eyes and his handsome face. Draco couldn't stop looking at Y/n's swirling (e/c) eyes. There was a certain warmth to them that captivated him. A few seconds passed before Y/n turned away and coughed slightly.

"Um, have you seen Pansy anywhere? I got this note from her to meet her here." Y/n asked, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"That's funny, I'm waiting here because Theo left me a note to meet him here." Draco said, confused.

"Do you think they-"

The two suddenly burst out laughing, thinking that they had both been ditched. They had no idea that Pansy and Theo had orchestrated the whole thing to let the two spend some time alone.

"Well, seeing that our friends have seemed to abandon us, how would you feel about spending the day with me instead, bestie?" Y/n smiled.

"I would love that, dear best friend." Draco answered.

From their hidden corner, Pansy and Theo watched the pair walk away. Pansy let out a frustrated sigh, turning to Theo.

"It didn't work! How can two people be so blind?" She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

"Calm down, Pansy. We'll keep trying and eventually they'll see." Theo smirked. "I have another plan."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Classes had just ended and the hallways were filled with students quickly trying to move to their dorms or next class. Pansy and Theo waited outside of their friend's classrooms, prepared to pull off Theo's plan. Although Pansy would call said plan stupid, Theo wanted to see how far something as simple as this would go. Finally, Draco and Y/n emerged from their classroom, talking excitedly to each other. Pansy stuck her leg out in front of Y/n while Theo shoved Draco forward. The end result was Y/n falling to the floor with Draco falling on top of her.

The two teenagers stared at each other, completely forgetting about the awkward position they were in. Their faces were turned into a deep shade of red, their lips just barely an inch away from each other. Y/n's eyes flickered to Draco's lips, feeling his soft breaths hitting her face.

Pansy and Theo watched from the sidelines, the latter convinced that his plan had worked. He had a smirk on his face while Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. There was no way that Theo's stupid plan would work if her note plan failed. She turned back to her friends on the floor, seeing that all of their classmates had created a circle around them, waiting to see what would happen next. At first, it seemed as though Y/n and Draco were in their own world before Y/n took a look around and noticed the crowd. She looked back at the boy on top of her, her face growing even redder.

"Um, Dray, do you mind g-getting off of m-me?" Y/n stuttered, as if finally taking in the situation.

Draco also seemed to snap back into reality as he too looked around. "Oh yeah, sure. Sorry about that." He apologized as he stood back up and offered a hand to Y/n, who gratefully accepted it.

The students who were watching the scene, grumbled disappointedly before continuing on their way. Pansy looked up to see that Theo's smirk had faltered, a fact that she found herself smiling at.

"Not so easy, is it Nott?" She taunted.

"I got further than you." He answered bluntly.

Pansy snorted, patting Theo's back gently. "Like you said, we'll keep trying until it happens."

Theo flashed Pansy a smile, chuckling softly. "Damn right."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This time, Theo had concocted a plan based on Pansy's first idea with leaving fake notes for Draco and Y/n. It was around the time that dinner would happen and the sky outside was dark with thousands of stars littered across the black space. Like last time, Theo and Pansy hid themselves away from view, waiting for Draco and Y/n to arrive.

The two teenagers arrived at roughly the same time. Their eyes were lit up in surprise when they spotted the picnic blanket and candles placed gently on the grass.

"Did you-" Y/n started.

"What? No. Did you?" Draco asked.

Y/n shook her head before stepping in closer to the blanket. Atop of the checkered material, another note was waiting for them. Written on it, their names were printed neatly in fancy handwriting.

"Well, it looks like this whole set-up is for us." Y/n said, showing Draco the paper.

Draco raised his eyebrows before his signature smirk made its way onto his face. "Well, who are we to deny?"

Y/n's face turned red as Draco sat down on the blanket and gestured for her to sit with him. She obliged, settling next to her best friend.

"So, I'm guessing this note I got from you is also part of the set-up then?" Y/n questioned, taking out the note that Pansy left on her desk out of her pocket.

"I guess so, considering I also got a note from you." Draco chuckled, pulling out a similar note.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the utter ridiculousness of this situation. This had to be one of the stupidest pranks that anyone has pulled on her. Though deep down, she was glad that she could spend more time alone with Draco, so perhaps this 'prank' wasn't as bad as it seemed to be.

"Hey (N/n), you can really see the stars tonight." Draco pointed at the sky.

Y/n looked up and admired the stars with him. It felt nice, just being here with him and looking at stars together. She lay down on the blanket and started looking for any constellations she recognized. Out of the corner, she could see Draco closing his eyes and breathing slowly. He looked so peaceful in the quiet evening, the candle's light making him more attractive. Eventually, he opened them again before turning to her.

"Thank you, Y/n. Thank you for always being there for me. For always listening, no matter how little the problem is. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't my best friend." Draco said sincerely.

Y/n smiled back, "I'm happy that you're my best friend too, Draco."

About an hour or two had passed before the two friends decided to head back inside. They blew out the candles and took the blanket inside with them, smiling and laughing before they disappeared into the castle. Pansy and Theo came out of their hiding place, with Pansy grinning at a frowning Theo.

"It was a good attempt, Nott. Though it appears that not even you can get the two oblivious idiots together." She laughed.

"I'm still not giving up." Theo grunted.

"And neither will I. We'll get them someday, I just hope it won't take years."

Theo chuckled at the thought of him and Pansy spending the rest of their years at Hogwarts trying to get their two friends together. "Yeah, let's hope."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

One of the students was hosting a large party in one of the school's unused rooms. Luckily for Pansy and Theo, they managed to convince their two friends to come join them. There was a rumour that Blaise had managed to sneak some alcohol into the party to 'spice things up'. Pansy and Theo arrived at the party to see Y/n and Draco already chatting away happily in a corner. Theo leaned over to Pansy, a worried expression on his face.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked.

"Of course. Drunk words, sober thoughts, all that stuff. Just keep Draco away from Y/n and leave the rest to me."

He nodded before making his way to their friends, greeting them before taking Draco's arm and leading him away, leaving Y/n all alone. Blaise approached Pansy, two glasses of firewhiskey in his hands.

"Hey Parkinson, you want to join in on the fun?" He asked, lifting a glass to her. Pansy smiled, taking both glasses from him.

"Of course." She said, making her way over to Y/n, who looked a little nervous as she watched the rest of the party.

"Hey Y/n."

"Oh, hey Pansy."

"Great party, eh?"

"I guess so." Y/n answered uncertainly.

"What's wrong?" Pansy asked, knowing exactly why Y/n was uncomfortable.

"Pans, you know I've never been much of a party person, I don't even know why I agreed to come here."

"Because of Draco?" Pansy questioned slyly, watching Y/n's face grow red. She laughed at her friend' reaction, becoming even more amused at Y/n's attempts to shush her.

"You know what you need, Y/n? I think you need a little bit of liquid courage." Pansy held up the glass of firewhiskey to Y/n.

Y/n seemed to consider this before she cautiously took the drink from Pansy. She looked at the Slytherin girl, who nodded approvingly. Gathering her courage, Y/n lifted the glass to her lips and let the burning liquid go down her throat. She looked back to Pansy, seeing her friend offering her another drink.

"Two drinks in and you'll probably feel more comfortable." Pansy smirked, knowing fully well that Y/n was a lightweight and two drinks would be enough to get her totally drunk.

Y/n ignored any warnings ringing through her head and gulped down the second drink. Not long after, the effects of the alcohol began to take over. The next thing she knew, her brain felt fuzzy and she couldn't quite think properly.

"Pansy, have I ever told you how much I love you?" Y/n hiccupped. Pansy chuckled at the sight of her drunk friend, gently wrapping one of Y/n's arms around her back and taking her back to Draco.

"Yes, you have. Now for you to say that to Draco." She muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Pansy had finally found Theo and Draco, Y/n was a drunken, blabbering mess. Draco looked worried as he took Y/n off of Pansy's back.

"What happened to her?" Draco asked, brushing some of Y/n's hair out of her face.

"She had a bit too much firewhiskey to drink. Come on, let's take Y/n back to our common room so she can sober up." Pansy answered, watching Draco take one of Y/n's arms and Theo take the other. The group then headed down to the dungeons to the Slytherin Common Room. The whole time, Y/n loudly exclaimed whatever was on her mind, with the trio trying to keep her quiet so they weren't caught.

"You guys ever wonder why the Dark Lord has no nose? Like, if I were to be the most powerful wizard to ever exist, then surely, I'd wanna look good. Who wants to be famous for not having a nose?" Y/n shouted.

"Yes, yes, Y/n. Noses are great. Now, can you please be quiet?" Pansy sighed. She knew that Y/n was a lightweight but she didn't know how difficult she would be to handle.

Soon, Y/n fell asleep, the trio letting out a sigh of relief. Out of the corner of Theo and Pansy's eye, they noticed Draco smiling softly at Y/n's sleeping form.

As they entered the room, they noticed that it was completely empty. Everyone was still at the party, allowing the four friends to have the whole room to themselves. Draco and Theo gently put Y/n down on one of the couches, Draco sitting next to her. A few minutes had passed with idle chit chat between the three as Y/n continued to sleep. The night was still young and everyone was not likely to return from the party for a few hours. Eventually, Y/n appeared to stir a bit from her sleep, though she was still very drunk. Pansy elbowed Theo gently in the side and they both excused themselves before exiting the Common Room. In reality, they were hiding in the entrance to the boy's dormitories. Pansy gave Theo a high five as they leaned against the wall to peer into the Common Room.

"Draco...." Y/n murmured, finally starting to wake up.

"Y/n! How are you feeling, do you need anything?" Draco took Y/n's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Draco....I need to tell you something...." Y/n continued muttering.

"Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything, (N/n)."

Pansy excitedly looked over at Theo. "It's finally going to happen!" She whisper-shouted. Theo put a finger over his lips and gestured for her to continue watching.

"Draco....I...I...."

"Come on!" Pansy was ready to scream. Her body was filled with anticipation and she could barely hold it in.

"Draco....I'm really glad that you're my best friend." Y/n smiled sleepily at him.

"Oh come on!" Pansy face palmed. Theo was shaking beside her, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Shut up, it's not that funny!" Pansy swatted Theo's arm.

"Of course it is! You were practically splitting at the seams from excitement only for it not to happen!" Theo held a hand over his mouth, still trying to stay quiet.

Pansy rolled her eyes and went back to watching Draco and Y/n, disappointment settling into her stomach. She was so sure that this would work, that drunken Y/n would be dumb enough to confess to Draco her undying love for him.

"I'm glad that you're my best friend too, Y/n." Draco grinned. "Now, let's get you to your room. You're going to need to sleep off all that alcohol." Draco lifted Y/n up bridal style and carried her off into the direction of her room.

With both of them now out of the room, Theo burst out laughing. He practically fell to the floor from the endless laughter. Pansy watched him with crossed arms, waiting for him to finally finish. As the laughter died down, Theo took a couple of deep breaths before he settled down.

"Got anymore bright ideas?" Theo joked.

"Maybe." Pansy smirked, a new plan already forming in her head.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Pansy was tired of their plans failing. She took out a small bottle of a love potion out of her bag, seeing Theo raise an eyebrow at it.

"This is your big plan?" He asked, almost unimpressed.

"Well, everything else hasn't worked so far! This is almost a guaranteed way for them to get together." Pansy reasoned, pouring the potion into a glass of orange juice. Due to being hungover from the party last night, Y/n ended up sleeping in past breakfast. Although Pansy couldn't sneak any food out of the Mess Hall, she had managed to grab some juice on her way out. She watched the potion disappear into the orange liquid, smiling to herself. Theo was doubting the plan, but she'd show him. This would work, she told herself.

Of course Theo doubted the plan. He'd heard of far too many stories where love potions only lead to trouble. He looked back to Pansy, seeing her smile at the mixture in her hands. She was so confident, so sure that this would provide the success they needed. He couldn't wait for this to fail so he could have another laughing fit. Not saying that he wanted this to fail, just that it would be hilarious if it went wrong. He chuckled, thinking of various scenarios where it could take a bad turn.

30 minutes later, Pansy found Y/n tiredly walking through the halls to get to class. Luckily for them, the four friends had Charms together in the morning, so it would be easy to give Y/n the potion and watch her reaction.

"Y/n! You doing okay? You were pretty drunk last night." Pansy greeted, "I couldn't get you any food, but I got you some juice so you have some energy."

Pansy handed her the drink, Y/n thanking her. The three then headed to Charms class, with Y/n complaining about how groggy she felt. They arrived and saw that Draco was already there, patiently waiting for his friends. Y/n sat down next to him while Pansy and Theo sat behind them. Y/n took a sip of the juice, not expecting a strangely sweet taste to fill her mouth. It was an unnatural sort of sweet, like someone poured a whole bottle of honey into the drink. She brushed it off though, thinking that it tasted weird because it was the first thing she had consumed that morning.

"It's happening!" Pansy whispered excitedly, as she elbowed Theo's arm.

"Don't get too excited, Parkinson." He reminded her.

It didn't take long before the potion had taken over the (h/c) haired girl. However, to Pansy's confusion, the girl's gaze snapped from her notes to Blaise Zabini. To her horror, Y/n got out of her seat and settled into a new one next to Blaise.

"Oh no...." Pansy cursed to herself.

"Hey Zabini. Have I ever told you how attractive you are?" Y/n asked, giving Blaise a flirty smile. The potion apparently also gave her newfound confidence.

"No, but I would like to hear more about it." Blaise returned her flirty tone as Y/n giggled.

Pansy continued spitting curse words under her breath as she looked over at Draco's heartbroken expression. Theo looked at her with crossed arms and a smug smirk.

"What did I tell you?" He said, sarcastically.

"Shut it. Now you gotta help me convince Draco that she's not in love with Zabini!"

"Fine. Just keep in mind that this was your plan." Theo rolled his eyes.

Pansy and Theo leaned over their desks to Draco, who was still looking at Y/n with sad eyes. Pansy felt horrible and was terrified that she'd driven them apart.

"Hey Draco...." She started, not sure how she should approach the situation. Draco looked up at her, hurt evident in his eyes.

"Cheer up, I'm sure that she doesn't actually like Zabini." Theo reassured. Draco nodded silently before his eyes went back to the (h/c) haired girl clinging onto Blaise's arm. He let out a sigh before turning back to his work, glancing at Y/n every now and then through the corner of his eye.

"Merlin, Theo. We need to get an antidote for this thing and we need it bloody fast." Pansy scowled.

"Well, I could make it but it'll take me the rest of the day."

"Then, you need to get started on it now. I can't watch Y/n cuddling with someone like Zabini any longer without feeling the urge to vomit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the day was nearly approaching and Pansy was anxious for Theo to be done with the potion. The whole day, Y/n flirted and complimented Blaise, which really didn't help the Slytherin boy's already overinflated ego. Poor Draco was stuck watching his best friend fawn over an arrogant arsehole. Eventually, he was so upset that he retreated to the Common Room, hoping to avoid seeing them together again.

Pansy stood by Blaise and Y/n, cringing every time she heard her friend gush about the large muscles the boy had. Where was Theo? She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take and she could only imagine how Draco felt. Finally, she spotted Theo hurriedly running towards her, holding out the antidote. He quickly handed her the bottle and she turned towards her spelled friend with full intent to end this now.

"Hey Y/n! I dare you to drink whatever is in this bottle!" Pansy taunted.

"What? No! What if it's poison?"

"What are you, chicken?" Blaise challenged as he turned to his new admirer.

Y/n's face turned red as she begrudgingly took the bottle from Pansy's hand. Pansy smiled knowingly, realizing that Y/n was only taking it to impress Blaise. Y/n removed the cork and swallowed the contents, not even hesitating or stopping to breathe. When it was empty, she nearly dropped the glass as a sudden dizziness hit her.

"Guys, I'm feeling a little woozy." Y/n trailed off, the world spinning as her eyes closed and everything turned black.

Y/n awoke to Pansy and Theo calling her name. She opened her eyes and found the two looking at her with worried eyes.

"What happened?" Y/n asked when the memories suddenly flooded her brain. She grimaced at the thought of how she acted, especially when she constantly fed Blaise's massive ego. "Wait, where's Draco?"

"He's in the Common Room. He left after seeing-" Theo started but he didn't need to finish before Y/n felt the immense guilt build up. She hated the idea that Draco thought she liked Blaise. That would never be true in a million years.

"What about me? Why don't you tell me more about how attractive you think I am." Blaise asked, pushing himself between Theo and Pansy, holding out a hand towards her. Speak of the devil. Y/n scowled before shoving his hand away and getting herself up.

"Shove off, Zabini. I'm going to get Draco." She flipped him off as she started quickly making her way to the dungeons with Pansy and Theo behind her.

When they arrived, Theo and Pansy hid in the entrance of the boy's dormitories and Y/n found Draco sitting on one of the couches, staring intently at the fires burning warmly in the fireplace. Her heart twisted at the sight of him and how his usual bright eyes seemed blank. She sat down next to him and waited for him to acknowledge her. Finally, he turned to her with a deep frown.

"Didn't know you liked guys like Blaise Zabini." He said, coldly.

"Dray, I swear that it wasn't me. I was spelled with a potion. Please, you have to believe me. I don't love Zabini, I love-" Y/n cut herself off before she could reveal her big secret. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. You're my best friend, Dray. I would hate it if you saw me as that type of girl."

Draco gently took her hands in his. "You promise you're not into Zabini?"

"Yes. Merlin, I would take back all those compliments I gave him if I could. He such a pompous arse."

Draco chuckled, making Y/n's heart skip a beat. He wasn't mad at her and he believed her. Her best friend was back and she hoped that she would never come that close to losing him again. She loved Draco too much.

"And for the record, you're my best friend too, (N/n)."

"I know."

Pansy crossed her arms and sighed deeply. She royally messed this one up, didn't she? Theo smiled softly at the girl next to him, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Are we done with your extreme plans now?" He teased.

"I give up. It's your turn to come up with a plan now." Pansy said, dejectedly.

"Oh, I have one." Theo's smile grew wider.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Are you ever going to tell Draco about your crush on him?" Pansy asked Y/n as they walked through the halls together.

"Pans, you're not supposed to be talking about this in public."

"I just want to know. You guys are best friends, you're not meant to have secrets."

"That's just it, we're best friends. If I told him, it could ruin our friendship. Or worse, if we fall apart, we could never be as close as we used to be. It's easier for me to just keep these feelings hidden because I don't want to lose him." Y/n sighed.

Pansy's face grew hard as she suddenly took hold of Y/n's arm and began dragging her somewhere.

"What are you—Pansy! Let go of me this instant!" Y/n shouted but Pansy ignored her, leading her to an empty classroom.

"I'm tired of you refusing to tell him about your feelings just because you think that you'll lose him." Pansy growled lowly as she tossed Y/n into the room. "You two are going to talk and I'm not letting you out until you confess."

Pansy closed the door and locked it, causing Y/n to panic. She began to knock furiously on the door, begging Pansy to let her out. "Pans, let me out! This isn't funny!"

"You're trapped here too, eh?" Y/n's pleading was cut short when she turned and saw Draco at the other side of the room.

"Yeah, how did you get here?"

"Theo told me to meet him in this room, then he turned and locked me in here." Draco glared at the door, knowing that Pansy and Theo were probably listening in to their conversation.

Y/n turned back to the door. "Pans, I swear to Merlin, let me out!"

"Did you two confess yet?"

"No!"

"Then you don't come out." Pansy's blunt statement caused Y/n to bang her head against the wooden door.

"We don't even have feelings for each other!" Y/n shouted before she heard some sort of heavy breathing. Confused, she turned back to Draco to see him looking at the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching. She approached the blonde boy, worried about why he was suddenly acting like this.

"Dray, are you....alright?" She asked, cautiously.

"No, I'm not because, Salazar, I love you, Y/n!" He shouted.

Y/n froze in her tracks, unsure of what to say. Her heart was racing and her head was filled with a million thoughts. Draco loved her? After all this time, he loved her and she didn't even know.

"And it hurts to know that you'd only ever think of me as a best friend. Yesterday, when you were with Zabini, it was hell to watch you flirt with him because I was so incredibly jealous. I hated the thought that you liked him, and that you could never see me that way. Then you told me you were spelled and I actually thought I still had a chance. Now, we're trapped in a room together because our stupid friends think that we like each other. Under different circumstances, I would have never told you about these feelings because I was willing to let you be happy with someone else as long as I could still be with you, even as a best friend. I love you, Y/n. I love you so much and I would do anything for you. Though, it's been made clear to me that you don't feel the same." Draco finished his rant, still breathing heavily.

Y/n's brain was still trying to process this new information. Too many thoughts were running through her mind and her mouth refused to move. Those three words were at the tip of her tongue but for some reason, she couldn't say them. Her silence was all the answer Draco needed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't of have said that. This was stupid. Just forget what I said." Draco averted his gaze to the side, tears starting to form.

That's when Y/n couldn't control herself as she ran up to him and pressed her lips against his. Draco let out a surprised squeak but soon began to kiss her back. Eventually, the two parted and Y/n embraced Draco tightly.

"I love you too, Dray. Merlin, I was afraid to tell you for so long because I didn't want to lose you. I tried to push away my feelings but I never could. I wish that I had confessed sooner. Like I said before, I would never be into guys like Blaise because I love guys like you. I love you, Draco Malfoy. I truly mean it with all of my heart." Y/n whispered.

Unexpectedly, the door to the classroom burst open with Pansy whooping loudly as she walked in. Behind her, Theo smirked at the now couple as Pansy gave him a high five.

"We finally did it! Salazar, that took forever!" Pansy cried.

"Wait....all those other times....you guys were the ones setting us up?" Y/n raised an eyebrow at her friends.

Pansy froze, realizing the potential 'danger' she was in. She slowly nodded as Y/n's face twisted into a scowl. Taking this as her cue to leave, she tugged on Theo's sleeve and the two took off running down the corridor.

"Come back here, you two!!"

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

Thank you so much for reading! Fun Fact: A friend actually gave me a couple of ideas for this one! She helped edit it for me and she definitely ships Pansy and Theo in this one. (You don't have to ship them, I wrote it so that you could either see them as close friends or maybe growing closer and closer as the fic goes on. Let me know what you think.) I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you again. Until next time.

-Jade

275 notes · View notes

hetacon · 4 years

Text

Prom Queen: Chapter 1

Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,500

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Eventual Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: The teeniest bit of swearing, slight food mention, Remus is mentioned briefly

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Summary: “Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

(Don’t miss the notes I have at the end of this post if you’d like to hear some additional details! There is a prologue to this story by the way, be sure to check it out!)

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The alarm blared loudly from across Virgil’s room. He tried hard to the best of his abilities to ignore it but he did make it loud for a reason.

One of those reasons being that he knew himself well enough to know that he would ignore it if he could and shut it off and go back to bed if he couldn’t. Going across the room to get it had always proved to have a higher chance of success in his experience so he had gone for that option last night.

The second reason though was because of today. Virgil shot up upon remembering and went over to his phone charging across his room, squinting at the screen.

“Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

The first day of high school in fact, the event of the decade that he and Roman had been waiting for in anticipation. Well, that was being generous but either way, they were both anticipating it for different reasons as they always seemed to do.

Virgil was not thrilled at the prospect of a new school. He would be required to learn a new campus, new classrooms, new classmates, and new teachers. Within the first week, he knew he’d be accustomed to at least the rooms for his classes but the other ones could take some getting used to. He knew that either way, he wasn’t going to get along with a majority of his classmates and he’d be too nervous to get to know any teachers or do much more than answer the occasional question or take role until they’d learned their students’ names. The campus was another issue too. Where would he be waiting in the morning? Where would he eat lunch? Did he and Roman even have the same brunch schedule? How was he getting home again? What time did his day end?

After shooting a text to Roman about one of those questions, namely in terms of the schedule, he got ready. After pulling his hoodie on over his head, he brushed a hand through his bangs to push them back before frowning at his reflection, letting them fall over his face again. He didn’t look better per say but he could see less which was always a plus in situations he was dreading. His mom had come in at some point to make sure he had actually gotten up and he was out of the house with his backpack and phone as soon as Roman bounded up his driveway.

“Virgil, it’s finally happening!” his best friend squealed, linking their arms as Virgil was tugged along down the route to their new school. “Finally, we’re high schoolers now, can you believe it?”

Virgil snorted, feeling a weight lift off his chest. One of them at least. “Can I believe it? Yeah. Do I want to? Hell no,” he muttered out with an edge of grumpiness to his voice only to have Roman laugh.

“I promise that I’ll be with you as much as I can the whole day! We’re going to have brunch and lunch together too and then I’ll take you over to my place after school!” Roman explained. He honestly made it sound so simple but really, he usually did. It even usually was, at least when Roman told him so. He just always knew how to make awful situations... easier.

“Eh, I guess I’ll take it. Though I’ve gotten a horrible end of the deal for compensation,” Virgil jeered a little, laughing to himself as Roman gasped and shoved him with an obvious smile.

“Shut up, you love me and you know it!”

Virgil’s smile came easily as they kept walking. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say,” he snorted.

Roman talked about theater, asking what productions Virgil thought they should put on, how he hoped to get some good roles this year, and then listed off some of his personal favorite musicals that he hoped he’d get to do at some point. Virgil filled in the gaps and spaces of the conversations and Roman did the rest. It was comfortable, it didn’t seem like this year would feel so bad now with things going just as they always had.

The day started off pretty alright honestly, much better than Virgil would’ve expected. Luckily he’d done a walkthrough of his schedule during registration so he knew vaguely where to go and he made it to his second period class early.

A lot of them were standard class introductions, icebreakers, and syllabuses. It seemed like exactly what he was used to in junior high, just at a different school. Some of his classes seemed pretty boring but he knew he didn’t have much of an option on the basic ones he had to take. He texted Roman between classes to see how he was fairing. He wasn’t very surprised that it was going off without a hitch.

It was a relief by the time that Virgil got to his English class right before lunch, the one class he and Roman shared together. Roman rushed in right as the bell rang and collapsed into the seat next to him, breathing out with a smile.

“Cutting it close, huh?” Virgil whispered.

“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied,” Roman merely offered as explanation before the teacher got up and started talking, cutting their conversation short.

“Man, I am so excited for theater today! I can already tell it’s going to be so amazing!” Roman chattered excitedly as they walked out of English, making their way over to one of the more secluded areas of the campus Virgil had been able to find, setting up to eat lunch.

“Yeah, totally didn’t see that coming,” Virgil said with a slight shake of his head, smirking a bit. “It’s not like you’ve been talking about it all day. Oh wait! You have.”

“Alright alright so I will admit that I might be a little more excited than one would expect!” Roman relented, shrugging. “But! It’s just so amazing, I got into 7th period theater, Virge! I’m going to be in the actual productions!! That’s a big deal for a freshman, usually people don’t make it until maybe sophomore year, you know?”

“Well the director would’ve been an idiot if he didn’t want to put you in them, yeah? I think so anyways,” Virgil said as he took out his sketchbook.

“I suppose but still, I’m just...” Roman laughed to himself, bouncing in place. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to meet all the new people there,” he giggled.

Virgil nodded, starting a sketch of Roman which Roman immediately posed for, knowing the drill.

“Soooo, have you met anyone interesting today?” Roman asked as Virgil was working out the shape of Roman’s nose, their eyes making contact for a second before Virgil was back to sketching.

“Nah, not really. Though somebody just kinda... Gave me a cookie during art. He said I looked like I needed it. He’s my table partner now so there’s that, you know?” Virgil said with a shrug. “He’s pretty cool I guess. Liked one of my drawings of you.”

“And you didn’t strike up a conversation? C’mon Virgil, you could be set on baked goods and a person with great taste for the rest of your life!” Roman exclaimed, shifting out of position as he threw his arms out to which Virgil gave a half-hearted glare.

“You’re dumber than I gave you credit for if you believe I can talk to people.”

“Well I may be dumb but I take it with pride like a Prince should!”

“Your brother is the smarter of the two of you,” Virgil mused.

Roman pouted. “He is not!”

“Pretty sure he is,” Virgil hummed out.

As the two conversed a little more, Virgil didn’t feel up to eating anything.

Lunch ended and the day finished up with Virgil waiting outside the auditorium for Roman to be done with theater. The two walked home with Roman going on and on about the rest of his day, telling him about all the people he had met and all the things that he had gotten up to. Apparently there was already some idea of what the fall play would be so Roman talked about it at length.

“But seriously Virgil, it was so nice of them! Two of the juniors gave me a card to welcome me, it had my name on it and everything, I can’t wait!”

Virgil merely nodded as Roman continued.

Virgil didn’t have much to say at that point, just letting Roman keep going. Virgil just listened on, focusing silently on his best friend as they made their way home.

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A/N: Hey hey hey guys, here is the first official chapter of Prom Queen! I don’t have an especially strict schedule for this story but I do try to post every other day and it works out fairly well! I’ll try not to make it be more than a couple weeks between chapters but life might get funky so if anything happens, I’ll try my best to handle it and get more chapters out!

That being said, I hope you are enjoying the story and are excited for future chapters! Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglists, either this one or my writing/art taglists in general and I’ll catch you guys next time!

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Taglist: @spookijam, @its-the-cat-queen, @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #multi chapter #prom queen #stan writing

101 notes · View notes

dokoni-mo · 4 years

Text

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 2)

(A/N: Hello hello again! Welcome back to my fic!! This is chapter 2 of this series, and the first chapter can be found ||here|| if you want a refresher/need to catch up! Thank you all who decided to give my previous chapter some love. I hope that y’all enjoy this one just as much as the last :) )

WARNINGS: cursing, some bullying, otherwise none

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~3700

Edit: Link to Chapter Three: [x]

You only saw him with passing glances for the next few days.

He would come to your department, walk around like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did), peering over the shoulders of other mechanics or officers that interested him or he found to have useful info. You would know he would walk in when you heard the woosh of the doors opening, followed by his heavy, mechanical footsteps alongside his breath. If you preened your ears hard enough, you could sometimes make out his voice above the sound of clanking metal, sparks flying, and the murmur of other worker’s voices.

He hadn’t come by personally to you within those days. When he came in, you would always pause your work, push your goggles up your forehead, and look over at him. Most of the time, he would either carry on walking, or pretend not to see you (you assumed, at least). When this happened, you would let out a small sigh then resume your work. You didn't know whether those sighs were out of relief, or out of disappointment.

When he did meet your gaze, however, it would often cause him to pause for a brief moment or walk a touch slower. When the dark pools of his mask would meet yours, your nerves would send a brief, painless shock through your veins as a way to say, “Hey, (F/N)! Get your head out of your ass and acknowledge Darth Vader.”

As a returning message, you would either flash him a small smile, give a small salute, shrug subtly, or give a small thumbs up. If you were really feeling adventurous, you would even do a combination of two or three of those. These little gestures would get you a little gesture in return, oftentimes a nod.

You had only made a modicum of progress to the overall repair of the TIE Advanced over those days. The only thing that you had fully completed was the welding of some obvious pieces of metal that needed it. You were now working on rewiring the main computer of the craft, a challenge that you had found very tricky the further you delved into the task.

Even as you gave all your focus to repairing Lord Vader’s TIE, you would still notice the small changes around you. The other mechanics would watch you as you worked, sometimes even mingling in little groups and whisper about you like you were back in secondary school. This, you could deal with. Let them gossip like some stuck-up teenagers, who gives a shit? However, in extreme cases, you would break from your work to retrieve a new tool from your bench, only to find it missing.

With this, you would sigh defeatedly. After your two-second self-pity party, you would lug over to the stations of the other mechanics, asking them if they had seen your tool.

They would always say no.

Today was one of those extreme cases. However, it was more extreme today.

Were you proud of yourself today? Yes, you were a little bit, for a change. Today you had finally gotten the computer to turn on for, get this, a whopping five seconds! This was a major improvement over the zero seconds that it turned on when you first received the craft. Seeing as though you had only looked at the wiring only immediately inside the control station of the craft, you realized that you would have to go in deeper into the TIE to completely fix the computer. This would require a special wrench that you had.

Stepping out of the inside of the craft, you headed to your workbench to retrieve the tool. You sighed.

How unexpected. It was gone. Why did you even bother trying, again?

You took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with one hand and placing the other one firmly on your hip. You had already awoken that day with a headache, and you sure as hell didn’t need another one.

After collecting your thoughts and composing yourself, you took a look around at the stations of your peers. One of them surely had to be using your wrench. And sure enough, someone was. Of course, they had not asked permission, But you quickly decided on not causing a huge scene. Do your job, don’t get in the way, (F/N).

Clenching one of your fists, you made your way over to the station of the wrench-thief. You knew this mechanic decently well; well enough to know his last name. Mechanic Cage. He was only slightly taller than you, skinny, and had a douche-bag voice. Pompous asshole.

Cage was kneeling by the side of a broken-down speederbike when you walked up to him, his right side facing towards you. When you were within conversation distance between the two of you, you stopped and placed your hand on your hip, letting the other dangle to your side. Your go-to confident-yet-casual battle stance.

“Cage,” you spoke out, looking down at your fellow mechanic, “Have you seen my wrench? The one we use for computer repairs?”

The skinny mechanic only gave you a side-glance of acknowledgement and a smirk as he listened to you talk.

“No,” he responded, his voice soaking with sarcasm and amusement, “Haven’t seen it at all, (L/N).”

This was a blatant lie. You knew this because he was using the damn thing right in front of you, twisting the tool away right in front of your face. This son of a bitch you thought to yourself. He was toying with you. You relished in your annoyance only for a brief moment. You had work to do.

“Cage,” you said shortly, “You’re using my wrench right now.”

“Oh, am I?” the little shit responded.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Yes, you are. Can I please have it back? It’s important.”

Cage stood up at this, holding the wrench tightly in his fist. He looked down at you, a smear of venom in his eyes. You challenged him right back, looking straight back up at him with an expression that could only be described as please for the love of God shut up and give me my shit back.

“Why should I, (L/N)?” he asked, his shoulders tense, “You have plenty of wrenches at your station already.”

“Yes, I do, but I need that one, Cage. I can’t go farther in my work without it.”

“Oh, my, I am so sorry!” Cage cried sarcastically. The feigned sweetness in his voice made its way to the back of your throat, making you frown. “My apologies for assuming that the great mechanic (L/N) could make do without it.”

What? Did this kid mistake death-sticks for his breakfast ration?

“I have no idea what you’re talking-” you had tried to say, only to be cut off by Cage’s finger poking your shoulder hard enough to make it fall backwards.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, (L/N). Don’t think just because you were assigned to Lord Vader’s ship you’re suddenly better than all of us. We all see how you walk around now like you’re hot shit. We all got jobs here fair and square, just like you did. Our officers are insane to give you that job anyway, newbie. It should’ve been one of us who have been here for years, not some little girl who played with the teddy-bears on Endor.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Talk about someone who woke up on the other side of the bed that morning. Sure, you knew that Cage was a lowkey douche, but damn. You wanted to shove his shoulder right back. You wanted to cause a scene. It wasn’t your fault that the officers decided to give you Lord Vader’s TIE. Even you thought that it had been a mistake. Who was Cage to remind you of this?

You tamped your anger down deep inside you. Letting yourself let it out would only cause trouble. Do your job, don’t get in the way.

“Look, Cage, can I please just have my wrench? Just give it back and I’ll leave you alone, alright? We never have to speak again.” You pleaded with him, letting your tired voice slip out of your throat. Why did you feel like crying?

“Running away, eh?” Cage spat back, flexing his lip in disgust, “Whatever. Sorry to knock you off your high-horse, Princess.”

With that, Cage threw your wrench to the ground. You watched it as it bounced a few times, then spun and skidded across the floor a few more feet. Why did you feel like crying even harder?

Biting your lower lip, you mumbled out a quiet, hasty thank you before turning and walking over to your wrench. Keeping your chin lowered, you allowed your eyes to wander. Peering at the other mechanics, you noticed that they were lumped into one of three groups. Group one: those who paid no mind to what just happened. Group two: those who saw and looked at you, but offered no sympathy. Group three: those who saw and were now whispering or giggling quietly with the others. How great.

Now standing over the wrench you had gone on this epic quest for, you let out a sigh as you knelt down and picked it up. You remained in your crouching position for a moment, turning the tool over in your soft hands over and over, staring as the metal reflected the blinding lights of the hangar.

You contemplated breaking down and crying right there, but you weren’t sure why. Yes, people who you thought you could at least be friendly with were being mean to you, but since when did you care? You didn’t know these people’s first names, nor where they were from or even the color of their eyes. Why do you suddenly care about how they treated you? How they saw you?

Your rhetorical questions were answered with another question, of which surprised you when it shot through your brain.

Why weren’t they more like Lord Vader?

You considered that maybe you had been the one to mistake your breakfast rations for death-sticks that morning, not Cage. What did you just think? Lord Vader was notorious for being cold-hearted, mean, and unforgiving. A perfect example of the might of the Empire.

Yet, when he had met you that night…

You closed your eyes and frowned. No. You were wrong. You were just not thinking straight because of your headache.

You finally rose from your kneeling position, your knees cracking in excitement to return to a more comfortable position. As you rose, you let your eyes wander again. This time, they fell upon one of the windows that lined your workplace. Immediately, your cheeks turned pink.

Speak of the goddamned devil.

There he was, standing in the window, watching. His frame nearly encapsulated the whole thing, reminding you of his size once more. The face of his mask was pointed in on the hangar, seemingly looking right at you. His cape was draped over his shoulders, allowing him to assume his all-too-famous silhouette.

After a brief pause of your movements, you realized that you must look like an idiot standing in the middle of the hangar staring at the sith lord. Thinking of something quick, you decided that a combination of a small, half-hearted smile and a diminutive wave. He gave you no gesture back.

Letting your smile drop, you carried the wrench back to your station. As you walked back into the TIE Advanced, you glanced over to see if Lord Vader was still in the window. He wasn’t. Gone, without a trace.

As you resumed your work, you couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Vader had seen your encounter with Cage.

~~~

You decided to stay up and work again that night.

As soon as the last officer had left the hangar, you couldn’t help your giddy smile show as you threw off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor below you. You hated that thing. Always got in the way of your work.

You had made some good progress since your scuffle with Cage earlier. You had gotten the computer to turn on for about three minutes now! Wow, this will totally keep Darth Vader from dying instantly in the middle of space.

Although it was a small amount of time, you thought that it might be just enough for you to run a diagnostic.

When you fiddled with the wires again and heard the computer come online, you quickly tapped a few buttons to tell it to run a diagnostic. When you got a beep of confirmation, you smiled and whispered a quiet YES! as a celebration. Oh boy, tonight was an extra-ration night for sure.

Seeing as there was nothing you could do in the meantime, you allowed yourself a brief moment of rest while the ship searched for any internal problems. You stepped over to the circular opening that Lord Vader had cut into the ship and sat down, your legs dangling over the edge of the circle. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed your shoulders and closed your eyes, letting your head roll back for a brief moment of relaxation.

As you let yourself relax, you also had let your mind wonder, a brief moment of meditation so-to-speak.

I wonder what this damn computer is gonna spew back at me. I hope nothing too bad, this ship is already in bad shape as it is. What should I do tomorrow? What was with Cage today? Did I take one of his rations by accident? Lord Vader hasn’t come by yet. Maybe I should apologize to Cage. I miss Endor. Will Lord Vader come by tonight? I wonder what mom and dad would say about Cage if they were here. Did I weld that together? Am I doing a good job? Did Lord Vader see…

Lord Vader.

Your moment, of course, was quickly interrupted. The sound of the door to the hangar opening, mechanical footsteps, and all too familiar breathing filled your ears, acting as one of the rudest alarm clocks you had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

You were frozen for a moment. You didn’t know how to conduct yourself. Should I jump down? Should I pretend to work? Should I pretend I didn’t hear him? Should I just stay still? Should I-

“Miss (L/N).”

Your gaze shot up, your eyes widening a tad as you looked upon the sith. Sitting atop of his TIE allowed you to be at more his height, but you still felt small by comparison. His hands were wrapped around his belt, his shoulders gently rising and falling in sync with his mechanical breath as he stood, looking unquestionably right at you.

You had to gulp before you could choke out anything.

“My Lord!” You decided to say, pushing yourself up to raise from your seated position. You quickly stopped, however, as he raised his hand to you.

“You may skip the formalities for tonight, Miss (L/N).” He rumbled out, allowing his hand to meet his belt once again. “You know why I am here.”

“Yes… Yes, of course.” you responded. You cleared your throat before speaking again.

“Since our last meeting, my Lord, I have made good progress. I have welded together any bits of metal that were in obvious need of repair, as well as replace some of the plates that I could do easily. I have also gotten the central computer to come back online for a short while. I’m running a diagnostic of the ship as we speak.”

“Good.” He said, “I commend your efforts, (F/N) (L/N).”

The small sentence of praise from him sent a shiver up your spine. A compliment? A real compliment that you could tell was real and not back-handed or sarcastic? Unbelievable. Want it even more unbelievable, (F/N)? It came from Darth Vader. Should you go to the medical bay in the morning?

“Thank you, my Lord.” You decided to say, your voice small and quiet and your gaze faltering.

You were relieved when you heard the ding of the computer go off behind you. You were relieved that the diagnostic was actually able to finish, but even more relieved that you had something to busy yourself with that wasn’t having a championship staring match with Lord Vader. You mumbled out a quiet pardon before turning, retrieving your datapad to read the report the computer relayed back to you.

He let you poke at the blue light for a moment before speaking again. “Anything of note you wish to add with your findings?”

“I… I won’t know what the problems really are until the morning, my Lord.” you responded, weary to look up from the blue rectangle before you.

He said nothing in response. It made you want to scream. How he would stand before you, watch you, speak to you made your body react with shivers, an increased heartbeat, and muddled thoughts. It was as if he had consumed your entire being, making you think of nothing but him and his ship.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like it, deep down.

It was an awkward while of you proding in your datapad and him steadily breathing before either one of you spoke again. It was him who broke the silence. He was the braver one, after all.

“Tell me, Miss (F/N). Do you enjoy your job here?”

Literally everything about that you didn’t expect.

He wanted to know about you? Why? Was this some sort of test? Mandatory survey? And Miss (F/N)? First name only? This had to be some sort of dream. You hadn’t been referred to as first name only in so long, it sounded so foregin to you.

You looked back up to the sith lord. His stance had not changed one bit.

“It’s…” You said slowly. You had to take a moment to think about the continuation of your sentence.

You really had to think about how you would respond.

You could play it safe. Say that you absolutely love it, (F/N). Yes, my Lord, I love my job AND the empire! We are legion!!

As quickly as that thought came, it left. That would be a lie. You didn’t love this job at all.

You thought deeper. You thought about the few acquaintances you had. You thought about the rations they gave you just to keep you alive and working. You thought about the uniform you hated and how hideous it made you feel at night. You thought about how you loved to fix things. You thought about the interactions you had with Cage. You thought about Endor. You thought about your parents. You thought about life before the Empire. You thought about home…

“It’s… acceptable.” You said eventually, resting your gaze on Lord Vader’s mask again. Your eyes were soft as you looked at him. They said everything that you had meant by those two words. He recognized that look of dealing with what you have, and missing what you had long ago. He would never admit this out loud, but deep, deep down in the bones he had left, he felt a twinge of an old feeling he had, long, long ago.

“I... understand.” Darth Vader said flatly, his deep voice rattling your frame.

You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but smile at the dark lord’s response.

For some odd reason, you did truly believe that he understood.

~~~

Probably the second rudest alarm clock you had ever had to experience came the next morning.

The sound of a firm, hard, jolting knock woke you out of your sleep, making you gasp. When the knock came again, you hastily rubbed your eyes with one hand and shoved the blanket that adorned your cot off your body with the other.

“C-Coming!” You called out sleepily, your voice thick and heavy with sleep.

Breathing deep, you made your way over to the door of your quarters, slapping the button on the side of the doorframe to open the sheet of metal separating you from the outside.

“Miss (L/N).” a familiar voice said, forcing you to un-squint your eyes and look up at it’s source. You quickly assumed an attention stance as your brain processed who the voice belonged to. It was the officer from a few days ago, the one who had given you the assignment for Lord Vader’s TIE. He looked just the same as before, datapad in his hand and everything.

“Y-Yes sir! How can I help you?” You asked, trying to force the sleep out of your voice.

“Well, Miss (L/N), now that I have your attention,” the officer said, “I have come here to give you your promotion.”

“Pro...motion?” you echoed. Were you still asleep?

“Yes, promotion, Miss (L/N). Your new position, effective immediately. You will no longer be working in your respective hangar. We have moved your assignment and tools into your new workspace for you to start there this morning.”

“I’m… My apologies, sir, but I’m not sure I understand…Could you tell me exactly what my new position is? This may be some sort of mistake and-”

“There is no mistake here, Miss (L/N),” the officer interjected, folding his hands behind his back, “You are repositioned, effective immediately. You now seem to be Lord Vader’s personal mechanic.”

Fucking what?

“Do not look so shocked, Miss (L/N),” the officer continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “It is only natural that you receive this position. Lord Vader has expressed his interest in you personally, saying he will accept no one else for the role. Your new station will be Lord Vader’s private hangar just past the area of his quarters. You are to begin work there every morning from now on. You will be one of the few people allowed in and out of that area, so do be careful of keeping your privileges in line. You should be happy, Miss (L/N), you have proven to be a valuable asset to the Empire.”

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #fanfiction

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

'Lust of lovers in summer' Story Event~Kurama Premium END

A few moments after I promised Kurama that I would teach him the goodness of the sea-----

Kurama: "You've kept me waiting for ages, and look what happened...."

Yoshino: "Yes, and I wanted to show you this."

We sat side by side on the beach and watched the sunset.

Kurama: "Is this your idea of 'excitement'?"

Yoshino: "Yes. I think that's the beauty of the sea, it shows us different things at different times of the day."

Kurama: "Oh? Then, tell me more."

Yoshino: "For example. watching the sea at noon is soothing....but the sea swallowing the sunset is so beautiful, it makes my heart tremble."

Kurama: "Tremble? Are you scared?"

Yoshino: "I think I'm half scared and half in awe."

(There are some scary parts, but it's beautiful and I can't take my eyes off it.)

(When you think about it, the sea is kind of like Kurama.)

I smiled secretly and Kurama jerks up next to me.

Kurama: "Yoshino."

He tugged lightly on my arm and making me fall towards him---

Kurama makes me sit down between his legs and hugging me from behind.

Kurama: "If that's what's exciting about the sea, then you're just like the sea."

(ah......)

The breath that touches my ear is so sweet that my shoulders jump a little.

Yoshino: "Eh?....Ahh."

As I was about to turn around, Kurama took the edge of my ear in his mouth.

Yoshino: "Kurama, what are you.....Mmm."

Kurama: "Hm? I can't hear you."

His tongue slowly touches my ear as he laughs.

Yoshino: "Don't talk....right into my ...ear..."

Kurama: "Why not?"

Yoshino: "Because...."

(Kurama's voice is enticing.)

Unable to say anything, I protected my ear with my palm, and Kurama's tongue crawled over the back of my hand.

Kurama: "If you can't say it, I'll say it for you."

(Nn..Mm...)

I felt Kurama's lips on my temple and my body trembled at its wetness.

Kurama: "Because you can't resist the pleasure, can you?"

Yoshino: "That's true so...Ohh..."

I tried to turn around, but Kurama's big hands clasped my arms behind my back.

As he blew gently on my exposed ear, I winced.

Kurama: "It's useless to resist. Your weakness is not only your ears."

Yoshino: "Oh...."

With each playful touch, a certain heat builds up in the body.

Even if the restraints on my hand were removed, I could still not move a single finger in my feverish body.

(No more...)

I couldn't take it any longer and I leaned back against Kurama behind me.

Kurama: "See, you and the sea are alike."

Yoshino: "How is that...?"

Kurama puts his hand on my chin and made me lookup.

Kurama: "You are just like the sea."

(Ah..)

His other hand easily goes down and----

It stops just before the collar of the kimono is split open.

Kurama: "Just by placing my hand there, you make interesting faces and it changes from one moment to the next."

Yoshino: "Do I look like I have a hundred faces?"

Kurama: "Yes. You're still afraid of me every now and then...."

Yoshino: "Ah...Mm.....Hmmm....."

I arched back as he scratched my breasts softly over my kimono.

Kurama: "Every time you look at me, your cheeks relax and turn red feeling delight at my touch."

Yoshino: "Mmmm....I never...do that...."

Kurama: "You do and I'm the only one who needs to know about it."

(Ahh....)

Kurama puts his hand on my cheek and turns my face to look at him.

Yoshino: "Hmmm....Mmmm....."

(This position is a bit painful....but yet....)

Kurama's tongue, which touched unusual places, felt very sweet.

Kurama: "What's with that face? You love it when it's a little painful, don't you?"

Kurama parted his lips and stroked my breathless cheek----

Kurama: "Look, your blushing, even more now."

Once again, he hugged me tightly.

(Ah.....)

I saw the sea, red with the setting sun.

Kurama: "If I were to fall in love with the sea, it would be this sea burning in the sunset."

Kurama puts his cheek against mine from behind.

Kurama: "It's exactly what you taught me."

Yoshino: "Kurama...."

(If so, I'm happy.)

I turned around and sat down facing Kurama----

And then, I put my lips on his, and our tongues intertwined.

By the time I leaned against Kurama with my relaxed body, the sun had already set.

Yoshino: "Haa....."

I exhaled in Kurama's arms, trying to release the lingering effects of the kiss.

The palm of Kurama's hand brushed down my throat as I grind restlessly.

Kurama: "You're defenselessly presenting me with your weak points."

Yoshino: "It's the....same...with...Kurama....Ohhh..."

At the same time as I touched his strong neck, Kurama puts his hand under my kimono.

(I'm trying to catch my breath.)

His hands crawl around my bare body and my body trembles.

Yoshino: "Kurama, not now-----"

Kurama: "Yoshino."

(Ah....)

I'm pushed down on the beach and Kurama puts his face to my ear.

Kurama: "Even though you don't know, I'm the only one who has to see all of your expressions. But you'll still continue to be a pharmacist, risking your body and soul for the sake of others."

(ehh)

His voice was croaky and emotionless.

Kurama: "I don't understand how you can spend your short life for someone else. I don't like the idea of someone else taking up your time."

Yoshino: "Are you....."

Kurama is precious to me, so is my job.

Kurama drops another word on my confused face.

Kurama: "But if I force you to quit, you won't have that beaming expression on your face. It's regrettable to lose it, so I kept silent."

It was a quiet murmur, almost carried away by the sound of the waves.

(Kurama...!)

When I look up, I am met with a strong gaze.

Kurama: "You belong to me. I won't let you lose your expressions or break on your own." (For those who don't understand Kurama's words, what he is saying is that Yoshino has a very cheerful expression when she works, and Kurama's love is obviously selfish and he doesn't want to share Yoshino and her cheerful personality with anyone even if she's working. But Kurama also doesn't want to take away her happiness. So, in short, he is learning that there is a limit to monopolizing your lover. He conveys his feelings in a twisted way, it might sound very harsh on the outside, but if you slowly think about it, it's full of warmth.)

Yoshino: "Ah....."

The slight flicker in his red eyes made me realize Kurama's true intentions.

(Did he went out all the way to talk to Yoshitsune-sama because he was worried about my health after working so hard?)

(I was really worrying Kurama.)

Kurama: "Have you finally realized how stupid you are?"

Despite the harshness of his words, Kurama's fingers gently combed through my hair.

Yoshino: "Sorry, Kurama....also thank you..."

The love I had received without realizing it was so great that it almost made me cry.

Yoshino: "I want to give something back to Kurama, just as he thinks of me. "

Kurama: "If that's how you think, give me yourself."

Kurama puts his face close to mine and our foreheads touch.

Kurama: "I always thought that humans who change their expressions one after another were a nuisance. As for you, I love that change. Let me see your sea-shifting face to my heart's content."(he means her orgasm face.)

Yoshino: "Kurama...."

I already knew what to say.

Yoshino: "I want you to show it to Kurama too."

Once I knew that the source of his lust was his deep love for me, I could not refuse.

Kurama: "Really? You won't regret it, right?"

Yoshino: "I'll never regret it."

Kurama: "Now, that's my sweetheart."

(......Hmm.)

The kiss of Kurama's mouth takes away reason as well as breath.

(My head is going to explode.)

By the time our lips parted, my mouth was sweet and numb.

Yoshino: "Ah, Kurama......Mmm..."

When I call his name in need, he loosens my obi instead of answering.

Kurama: "Seek me as you will. I'll eat you up even more than that."

Kurama's hand snaps up to rest on my stomach.

My body, which received heat many times from those hands, reacted very quickly...

(Ohh....Kurama-----)

I was shivering in anticipation of the sweet 'beyond'.

Event Story // Epilogue

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series story event

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Jaskier x firebender reader - We need a horse

Summary: Jaskier is tired of constantly walking, so he convinces you to find a way to get a horse.

Warnings- shenanigans, fighting, death of bad guys, Jaskier fluff

Masterlist

You and Jaskier are standing outside of a tavern as Geralt does whatever on the inside, you’re guessing it’s finding a new monster to hunt. Or perhaps he could be swooning over a fair maiden, yeah that doesn’t seem very plausible. You shake the thought out of your head as you lean against the side of the stony tavern, your boots in the dirt. Jaskier stands to your left fiddling with a piece of his tunic, as he watches random village goers walk by.

“I’ve just had a thought.” He says from out of nowhere. You push yourself off of the wall, nonchalantly resting your hand on the hilt of your sword that’s positioned at your hip.

“Oh here we go.” You quietly mutter.

“Maybe we could all take turns on Roach.”

You chuckle, “Yeah that’s unlikely.”

“No seriously, we have to walk all the time from village to town to castle to wherever the fuck the money and monsters are....so we should take turns riding Roach.” He argues, trying to get you on board with his new idea.

“I mean...I guess you do make a compelling argument.” You tell him with a shrug.

“See! I’m telling you Y/N, when that grumpy old snowbear comes back outta the tavern from whatever indulgences he’s getting into....I’m gonna tell him.” Jaskier exclaims, ever so sure of himself.

You give him a half-convinced nod, “You do that. I’ll watch from over there, by the carpet seller.” You tell him as you head towards the table across the road. His eyes widen at the realization that your a no-go for his plan to get Geralt of all people to share Roach. “What? You’re not going to help at all. This is Geralt. He won’t give a flying fuck about what I’m saying...but if I have you...we have a winning argument.” He tries his best to persuade you, but you appear unflinching as you turn around to look at him.

“Jask, I’ve know Geralt awhile...he’s not gonna go for it.”

“But Y/N.” Whines Jaskier with a pout. You step in closer to put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt at trying to comfort him, while you give him your most sincere smile.

“Listen there’s a vender over there who sells really nice travel bearing boots....some of them look very....er up to your tastes.” His face falls at that, so you abruptly remove your hand from his tense shoulder.

“Well you’re certainly no help, thanks for nothing. Sorry I’m not...well...whatever you are that makes it so easy to just walk everywhere and not apparently get tired.” He sasses, folding his arms and turning around with a dramatic huff. You roll your eyes at Jaskier’s pettiness, no matter how small the act.

You shake your head with a annoyed frown, “It’s not my fault I’m just not a little bitch.” You jest, whisper yelling the last part, gods Jaskier can be such a little princess.

You casually mosey on over by the shoe vender taking a good look at their diverse array of footwear, you look up again to glance over at a pouty Jaskier that’s looking over his shoulder to find you. When your eyes meet you stick your tongue out at him and he quickly looks away, staring intently back at the tavern door.

“Hello miss are you looking for something specific?” Asks an older man from behind the counter. You turn towards him with a small smile, “Oh um, I’m just looking for a friend.....just seeing what you got.” You reply giving him a nod as you look down at all the boots. He does have a nice gathering of travel wear as well as for parties and...

“Oh come on Geralt. Some of us don’t have a horse. It’s only fair.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Jaskier, you watch as Geralt ignores him while he starts walking over towards you. His face is a blank slate of annoyance a he makes his way to where you’re standing as he tries to get Jaskier off his ass, with your help of course. “Y/N, did you have anything to with this.” He grumbles, stopping in front of you.

You look around his large frame at a pleading Jaskier, and then back up to him, “Nope.” You deadpan, Jaskier purses his lips together in frustration, as he walks around Geralt with his hands on his hips. He goes to open his mouth but you stop him, “I’ll just buy a horse Jask.” He stands back in surprise, before his brows furrow in confusion, “Okay as great as that sounds Y/N, how exactly are you going to afford a horse?” He wonders honestly, unsure of how you’d come up with the money. Considering the three of you low-key struggle as is to find an abundance of coin.

You cross your arms over your chest while giving them both a confident smirk, “I’ll find a way believe me.” You assure them, Geralt nods as he turns to walk away and Jaskier still looks troubled.

You roll your eyes at him while you link your arm in his, the both of you begin to walk in Geralt’s direction. “I’d really like to know how you’re going to get us a horse...but then again, maybe I don’t.” He muses, you pull him in closer to you, whispering in his ear. “There’s a pack of bandits on the outskirts of the village woods. I plan on robbing them for coin and whatever other valuables they may have.”

His eyebrows raise as he tilts his head to you, “That’s smart. Hmm you’re gonna need a lookout or...ah right! A distraction.” He says excitedly, always ready to get into trouble with you whenever the opportunity arises.

“Shhh...you want everyone to hear us. And besides I’m going alone.” He stops walking and holds onto both of your forearms. “Y/N. I need new material for a ballet, please let me go with you.....I mean the action, the danger, the gore, and uh...theft. So much potential.” He whisper yells while looking deeply into your shining eyes.

“If you keep giving me that look with those big blue eyes of yours I’ll crack. And last I checked you can’t exactly defend yourself as well as either myself or Geralt. You can get hurt Jaskier...” He holds up a finger to silence you.

“Y/N my love, my rose in a dead garden, my feisty foxy woman, my lamppost guiding me through a dark forest on a cold winters eve...my..”

“Jaskier.”

“What? I’m on a roll... you inspire me my dear.” He tells you grinning cheekily.

You shake your head smiling at him adoringly, “Gods alright, you can come along...but you’ll have to hide and....Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.” You warn him firmly, Jaskier just grins happily, bringing up his hands to cup your cheeks. “Ah, I love you.” He exclaims joyously, smashing his lips into yours. He pulls away abruptly leaving you dazed and wanting more, as he pulls you down the trail leading to Geralt and Roach.

“Eh..uh...okay then.” You mumble, smiling brightly like a huge lovestruck idiot. Dammit Jaskier with his stupid smile, and voice, and his even stupider charm. He’s the only person who’s able to break you enough to give in and let him get what he wants. If you could slap that infuriating grin right off of his smug face, but in all honesty you’d rather kiss it off him instead.

----

Later that evening you get up from your spot near the campfire. Geralt watches you suspiciously as he sits in broody silence trying to figure out what you’re up to. Jaskier finishes his rabbit leg, flicking the bone into the fire as he stands up to follow your lead. Geralt’s eyebrow raises, “And where are you two going?” He mutters. You snap your armored gauntlets onto your forearms while you look up at Geralt. “I’m finding coin.” You answer, reaching out to pick up your infamous metal chained whip, perfect for slaying monsters and taking out bandits and whoever else is in your way. “I’ll be back later, don’t follow me.”

“Oh and I’m coming too! I’ll have a fresh new ballot by this time tomorrow...it’ll be fantastic.” Gushes Jaskier, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Yeah...uh... he won’t be near me.” You assure Geralt with an honest nod. He shrugs, not wanting to bother in your guys’ business. “Alright then. Let’s get a go on things. A horse won’t buy itself after all.” Says Jaskier enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips. You pull up your hood, turning to quickly grab your camouflaged scarf to then adjust the dark green material to help better conceal your face.

“Here you might want this.” You tell Jaskier as you hand him a dark cloak, he gladly accepts it, throwing it on with ease. “And this...just incase.” You add while handing him a small dagger that’s lying secured in its sheath. He cautiously takes it, giving you a nod as he tucks it into his vest. You stand back to give Jaskier a look up and down, as he fumbles around with his cloak, completely oblivious to your amused gaze.

“Jask!”

He suddenly stops, snapping his head up to look at you, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Let’s go.” You tell him while walking away into the woods and out of sight, Jaskier gives Geralt an ecstatic smile before abruptly turning on his heels to trail after you.

The forest is dark and heavy, a small breeze rocking the branches in a strange type of dance. You look up through the cracks in the forest canopy above you, a crescent moon shows a Cheshire Cat-like smile beaming down on you from the sky. The stars seem to twinkle from high into the heavens, while back on earth the night is cool and mysterious. Your eyes adjust to the darkness now that you’re away from the comfort of the campfire light as you bring your hand up to make a tiny flame so you don’t trip on the forest floor.

Your peaceful moment is intrusively interrupted by the rushed steps of your humble bard, who’s fumbling in the dark to try and keep up with you. You turn around just in time to catch him as he has amazingly tripped on a tree root. His arms flail out as you snatch him by his torso, you little flame going out as this clash has evidently lead the both of you into a aggressive hug of sorts that sends you crashing onto the forest floor. Your back hits the grass with a hard thud as a greater pressure holds you in place from above. You suck in a sharp breath as your eyes shoot open to the weight that’s pinning you to the ground, the smiling face of Jaskier is staring right into your eyes.

“Well aren’t we in quit the compromising of positions my dear.” Smirks your bard with a cheeky grin.

“One, Two, Thre..”

“Alright alright!” Whispers Jaskier as he quickly lifts himself off of you. He holds his hand out for you to take, ever the gentleman.

“You’re as blind as a bat, why did I let you come?”

“If not I would have annoyed you relentlessly for the next week, I’d even make a song about it. Let me think....my Y/N, she hissed at me like a cat and said I was as blind as a bat, she killed for coin and touches my loins ohhh I loveee..”

“I’ll shove a leave down your throat.”

“Jeesh alright touchy. I’ll behave, I promise. You will not hear another word from me.” He announces while pretending to zip his mouth shut.

“Yeah I’ve heard that before.” You retort while turning around and heading in the direction of the thieves camp, Jaskier holding onto your cloak and trying his hardest to stay silent.

The both of you walk for another ten minutes before you begin to hear laughter and the familiar scent of cooked deer roasting over a spit. Then your eyes spot a flicker of light through the dull color of the woods, a solid indicator of where these idiots are camped. You signal your discovery to Jaskier who nods and urges you onward. You take cautious steps as you get closer, you can see the men gathered around a blazing fire, small tents behind them, and their weapons by their feet. No horses unfortunately.

“Stay here and don’t draw any attention to yourself I’m gonna kill them and then take their valuables.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if their dead Jask.”

“Huh. Yeah that sounds about right.”

You turn back around, slowly sliding out your dagger from within its sheath as you cautiously stalk closer to the oblivious men. Without warning you lunge at the closest one, slitting his throat from ear to ear as you stab your weapon into the next one who didn’t even have time to stand. You turn around, quickly jumping over the burning fire as you plunge your dagger straight into the eye of the next unlucky fellow to cross your path. Suddenly an arrow lodged itself into your right shoulder with a sickening thwack sound. You turn towards the terrified bowmen, a flash of anger shining through your eyes as they catch sight of the local wanted rapist. You flick your hand with ease, your instrument of death slicing deep into his vulnerable chest. He drops his bow and arrow as a trail of blood begins dripping out of his parted lips. His eyes are as big as saucers when he abruptly lets out a pained gasp, falling to the forest floor in a slump of limbs.

You swivel your head around the entire camp once again, not wanting to miss anything or anyone who might have escaped. Not a sound is heard but the rapid thudding of Jaskier’s heartbeat from behind a bush. Your ears prick at the gargled mumble of the scruffy looking rapist who just shot you. Oh right, you still have an arrow stuck into your side, must be the adrenaline.

Taking care of that problem you pull it out, accidentally snapping it off before the pointy end has a chance to properly come out. Shit. Ignoring the dull throbbing in your shoulder, you focus your attention on the slowly dying man in front of you. Leaning down, you pull out your silver dagger, wiping the blood off on his clean sleeve before putting it back in your sheath.

“B..bi..bitch.” He mumbles through ragged breaths. You give him a sneer before crushing his jugular with your boot, another cockroach squashed.

“Y/N! That was bloody brilliant. They never even saw you coming.” Gushes Jaskier as he parts the bushes so he can jog over to you.

“Well that was the intention. Uh, look for any coin...I’ll look in their bags.” He currently nods, turning to do just that, he stops dead in his tracks at a large angry balding man across from the dying campfire.

“Uh, Y/N you may have missed one.”

Snapping your head of to Jaskier you turn to the angry huff of a monster of a man who’s glaring dagger at you and your bard. Suddenly the man lets out a loud battle cry as he charges with his axe towards Jaskier and you.

“Oh fuck.” Gasps Jaskier as you swiftly race to his side while throwing your outstretched arm in front of him. A furious blast of orange and yellow flames emitting from your palms and straight into the bulking thief, he lets out a blood curdling scream as the flames lick up his sides. Burning him alive within seconds, he falls to the ground as he thrashes and groans. Not even fifteen seconds later has he finally stopped moving, all that's left of him is a blackened charred body staining the once green grass of the clearing.

“Well...uh...that’ll do it.” Breaths out Jaskier as you turn to him, dissipating away the flames from your hand as you do so.

“I hope he didn’t have any coin on him, shit.”

----

The two of you walk back into camp, the fires gone to embers and Geralt is promptly snoozing in the grass while Roach nibbles at some leaves on the nearby tree. You walk over to your satchel, picking it up to stuff the concealed bundles of coin you were able to find earlier. Jaskier goes to sit down by the dimly glowing campfire as he watches you intently. You drop the old bag onto the ground with a clinky thud, deciding it best to take off your cloak and leather armored chest piece. Leaving your top half in a grey sleeveless shirt, you let out a tired sigh of relief.

“Oh..uh Y/N...you’re kinda bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder. Oh come here let me have a look.” States Jaskier firmly, already scooting himself in the grass so you can sit down in front of him. Not wanting to argue, and now fully well aware of the fresh arrow head still stuck in your shoulder, you oblige and sit down right next to him. He carefully touches your bare shoulder, a concentrated look on his handsome face as he studies the bloody slice in your skin.

“You’ve got an arrow stuck in there...it’s almost out but...uh...it may hurt when I force it out.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing to together in concern.

“Do your worst.”

He nods, giving you a crooked smile as he takes out a small dagger from under his bedroll. You look up to the stars as you brace yourself for the coming pain. Suddenly cool metal is placed delicately onto your skin, then it’s quickly pressed deeper into your flesh. You bite your lip as Jaskier slices open your wound even more so he can get a better grasp onto the arrow head. Finally he finds it, pulling on the broken piece of wood attached to the silver arrow and out it goes.

“That’s gonna be a nasty one. The bloke must’v stuck you with a silver arrow...those things are sharp.” Chimes the bard as you stop his hand from covering your cut with some cloth.

“Let me cauterize it first, heals quicker that way.” He sets his hands down and watches intently as you conjure a tiny flame from your two fingers, carefully dragging it across your wound as you hold the pain in, it melts and fuses the parted skin together as you can smell the nasty scent of burning skin and bubbling blood.

“Well at least this little midnight raid seemed like a success...those fuckers were loaded with coin. By gods Y/N we’re gonna have the best horse and...hmm I’m just imagining all the wine we could snag while we’re still near town.” He says while raising an eyebrow to you.

You roll your eyes as he then carefully wraps your shoulder in spare cloth, you turn yourself around to face him fully now. The both of you sitting together in the grass as the remainder of the fire glows lowly in the warm summer air. Jaskier gives you a smile as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt. “You wouldn’t mind sharing a spot in the grass with your loyal bard now would you?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a yawn, Jaskier flashes you an excited grin as he pats at the soft ground, making the two of you a makeshift bed.

Once satisfied with his work he lays himself down, looking up to you with those big blue eyes of his, pleading for you to join him. Tired and in need of a good cuddle you curl up into his side as he throws an arm around your waist. Careful as not to touch your injured shoulder in the process, your eyes lock with his as a bright smile plants itself onto both of your faces.

“Well if you aren’t the most radiant creature I’ve ever met. Oh and best part...you’re all mine.” Whispers Jaskier as he lightly kisses your nose, you let out a tiny giggle in reply, ever grateful for this tuneful idiot and the fact that Geralt is in a deep sleep.

“I took an arrow for you, when we get to the next tavern you better show me how radiant I really am.” Jaskier let’s out an amused snort before kissing you in an attempt at making you feel better for the arrow wound. You kiss him back, not being able to resist his charms for much longer, even if your shoulder still feels sore as it slowly heals underneath the cloth.

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher x y/n

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nade2308 · 4 years

Note

For the Drabble thingy

5 Bruised - Jack Dalton

No pressure though

I think Nade and the concept of a drabble aren't on the same planet. I finished the thing. Hope you like this @starryhc. As for the inspiration for this story, awhile back I saw a post on Tumblr where there was a deleted scene from the 1x01 script where Jack worked as a stunt double on a movie set and we are blaming this fic on my dream brain requesting this as the reason for the bruises. Hope it's what you had in mind when you asked, Starry . The "drabble" is under the cut.

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well.

(Next time, I'm asking for Boze and his special make up).

It had been two months since they saw each other last. And Jack didn't know how he went two months without contact. But it was what Mac asked of him. Some time to rest and reflect. And Jack had so many objections to that... but he swallowed them and agreed. What else there was to be done? His kid needed time, and contrary to popular opinion, Jack wasn't going to push and hover. He knew when to back down when he wasn't needed.

The ugly doubts reared their heads as soon as they touched down in the States, though. Why was Mac asking for some time to himself? He never did before, why now? Mac was also never been shot within an inch of his life and his girlfriend was killed in the same night so Jack reasoned with that. He knew about people and having to start over when they had a brush with death and some decisions they made in the aftermath of their near-death experience. Jack just learned to deal with it. As always. When Mac called him out of the blue at 1am and asked if he could come over, Jack was ecstatic to say in the least. He didn't even stop to think of the reason. Maybe Mac wasn't still coming back from his reflection phase and it was just something he needed Jack to do.

Whatever it was, in hindsight he should have realized that Mac would notice. And he did.

"Jack. What happened?"

"Eh, it's nothing. Just... perks of the job is all."

Jack tried for a smile, but it fell flat.

"What job? Jack, were you in the field without me?"

The question slammed like a freight train into Jack and he had to actually grab something to steady himself, which turned out to be Mac's forearm.

"Whoa, Jack, easy there."

The grip he had on Mac was strong and through the fog in his head Jack was thinking how it'd leave a bruise, the kid bruised so easily he was always having these small bruises from banging himself on doorknobs and table edges. But now these bruises were going to be from Jack, because Jack wasn't able to keep himself steady another way, and that was when Mac appeared in his line of sight and Jack realized he wasn't breathing right.

"Jack, you've got to breathe. Just, follow my lead, okay?"

Jack tried to nod, but he couldn't, he was so far gone in the panic that all he could do was squeeze Mac's arm harder. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, the phantom pain at the back of his head, the nasty concussion it left in its wake.

He watched as Mac winced when he took a deep breath and suddenly Jack wasn't in his apartment, but at the edge of the lake, performing CPR on his partner, oh God, it's so cold...

...

When Jack next came to, he was lying on his couch. He had no idea how he got there, but he realized Mac's thigh was under his head and he jumped with a startle. Then promptly fell back to the softness of his partner's body because his body seized in pain. The actor on that set that insisted on doing his own stunts did a number on him. His bruises had bruises.

And judging by the way he stilled and didn't breathe for a few seconds, and Mac's gasp, Mac definitely noticed.

"I'm going to assume that that did not come from a mission."

"You know I'm off rota until you are back to the field, hoss. I ain't goin' out there unless it's with you. We had a deal, remember?"

"I'm sorry. Sorry I shut you out."

"It's okay. You needed time. I get it."

"I shouldn't have."

"No hard feelings."

"I feel like you are hurt because I wasn't there to stop you from doing whatever reckless thing you did. Jack."

"I was a stunt double on a movie set. Thank God tonight was the final scene and now I can rest."

Jack groaned and any other time he'd be embarrassed that he buried his head in Mac's thigh to hide, but he was tired, hurting and if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he had a panic attack, which in his books was definitely something to warrant that kind of behavior.

Besides, Mac could always kick him if he didn't want that.

"Where are you hurt?" Mac's small voice asked and Jack wanted to deflect, but he could detect the hint of worry in the kid's voice so he decided to be honest.

"Where am I not hurt is the question you should be asking. That little punk ass kid that insists on filming his own stunts that we worked with did a number on me. I think I even have a bruise on my butt, dude."

Mac chuckled above him and Jack fist pumped on the inside. He was carefully maneuvered into a sitting position next and - yep, that was definitely a big bruise on his butt.

"Let me see?"

Mac was asking him to see the bruises, that much was clear. And his voice brooked no arguments so Jack took off his t-shirt and realized just how stiff his shoulders were.

God, I am getting old.

Jack let Mac take his fill, he didn't have to see the way he looked to know he suffered a beating. He felt every bruise and every pull on the skin. If he was being honest... it kinda felt like he got what he deserved after what he let happen to Mac and Nikki in Italy. Finding Mac floating in lake Como was one of his worst nightmares come true.

Cold fingers touched his skin and he recoiled, before he realized it was Mac and then he forced himself to relax. Mac needed to make sure that he was okay, and Jack was going to let him.

"Jesus, Jack, this is a beating, not a stunt."

"You should see the other guy."

"Jack."

"It's okay, Mac. I've had worse."

"It doesn't make this hurt any less. C'mon, let's get you to bed. I'll get you some ice."

Jack wanted to protest, how he was going to take care of himself on his own, but Mac needed to see to it that Jack was going to be okay and Jack was going to let him.

"Okay."

Mac, true to his word, settled him into bed and brought ice packs that he MacGyvered into sticking around so as to none of them should hold them in the hurt places. Jack groaned as the cold from the ice seeped into the bruises, but after a while it became a background sensation and he relaxed.

"Thanks, Mac."

"Don't mention it."

They sat in silence for a few moments but Jack needed to know.

"Mac, why are you here? Not that I don't want you here, I'm more than happy to have you here."

"I realized that I was hurting myself and you by keeping a distance. I was caught in the anger and grief about what happened with Nikki and me... being shot. On your watch. I realized that you are pretty much beating yourself up over what happened and decided to stop some of that train of that.

"What I didn't anticipate is you literally beating yourself up. Now that's some quality punishment for things you are not guilty of."

Jack didn't dare look up at Mac, it was enough that Mac knew what Jack was doing.

Talk about self destruction... him and Mac had a lot in common in that department.

"It wasn't your fault. I should have said that before."

"It's-"

"God help me if you say "it's okay". It's not, Jack. I pushed you away. It was as if I was telling you that you pulled the trigger."

Jack winced. Was this kid going to expose all his inner thoughts tonight?

"Sorry, that didn't come out right. Listen, Jack, I'm sorry. It wasn't okay that I pushed you away. It shouldn't be okay that you accept the guilt so easily. You were hurt, too. Remember?"

Jack nodded.

"I'm sorry, too."

They were both dealing with a loss of a friend (lover in Mac's case) and what happened in Italy in different ways. But it looked like they weren't going to do it each by themselves after tonight.

"Can I stay?"

Jack was brought out of his musings and looked at Mac. Really looked at him. The kid looked pale, his cheeks gaunt and he was clutching his left shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Can I stay? I'm... My shoulder is hurting and I have some of my things here so... well I should probably text Bozer and tell him I'm-"

"Of course you can stay."

"Great, uh... let me just go and grab my phone, I left it on the table. And I'll take these now."

Jack shuddered as Mac removed the ice packs, now melted.

"I'll get you a shirt."

A moment later Mac left a shirt on the bed as he went to presumably text Bozer. And Jack smiled when he saw it was one of his old Army t-shirts, loose and comfy. Jack changed into a loose pair of sweatpants and got under the covers, careful not to press too much on the worst bruises. He was going to be sore in the morning.

Mac re-entered Jack's room and Jack could tell he wanted to say something, but was kinda frozen in the middle of the room.

He raised the covers and tapped on the other half of the bed.

"C'mere, hoss. Let's get some sleep."

"I can... I can sleep in the guest room? I could roll over and hurt you, you know how I can get."

"Nonsense. Come in here."

"Okay."

"I think we both need this, so it's a win-win situation."

Mac smiled and as he settled in, he gravitated towards Jack that pulled him to his side.

"I'm so sorry I worried you earlier." Jack could feel the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"It's okay, Jack. I'm just glad I was around."

Jack nodded in agreement and closed his eyes. They could deal with everything else in the morning. He was wiped.

"Good night, Mac."

"Good night, Jack."

#100 drabble challenge #drabble #writing #my writing #my fic #fan fic #prompt number 5 #bruises #tw: panic attack #1x01 filler #jack dalton #angus macgyver #macgyver #macgyver 2016

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bxllafanficc · 4 years

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part four)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part five. Masterlist

Summary:After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

Your eyes scanned through the fully stocked room that came to be yours a couple of days ago. Fairly large and a great window where the sun came to welcome you each morning. Not even the blinds could stop it. Now it was fairly dark inside since the sun was about to go down. You reached for the light switch and scanned through all your products and belongings for things that you could possibly move somewhere else.

The grunt of the Russian skater behind you caused you to turn around. As you did, he stopped and returned your stare, as if waiting for you to announce something. There was a lot that you needed to clean up. If you had known that you'd be expecting a roommate, you'd already have done so. Guess Victor forgot to mention that too, eh?

The visible twitch in the corner of your left eye was impossible to force back. Just at the mere thought of unintentional (?) screwups of the one and only Victor Nikiforov. Now, just because he was your childhood friend, it didn't mean that he wouldn't receive a massive ass-whooping if he as much as repeated the same mistake three times the same day now the few remaining hours of the day. If only you could get that message through.

And, you kind of did. Just not to the man you intended. Yuri at the receiving end of your stare was just about to open his mouth to say something, what you assume, sour when he noticed the twitching of your eye. Surprisingly, it shut him up before he started. He kind of shielded himself behind one of his bags and eyed you carefully.

Shit, wrong Russian dude.

"Sorry, that was meant for Victor." You let out a sigh and helped him with one of his bags out in the hall. You got a simple nod from the boy just before you passed him in the doorway.

He's been acting all quiet and confused ever since you tended to his wounds. Was something you said unclear? Maybe you should make sure the two of you were on the same page. 'Later...' you thought.

Yuuri and Victor hurried to the entrance of your room with a couple of more bags.

"So what do you think about it, Yuri? Pretty special eh?" It was Yuuri who spoke up, probably just as an act of friendliness. Though, you could understand how a punk like Yuri might take it as teasing.

"I'm not staying here. There's- there is no way I'm sharing a room with another person. I should have my own room. Why can't Victor and (Y/n) share a room and I get my own?!"

Ah, there he is. You were starting to get worried that he might actually turn nice. Then you'd have to call an ambulance just to ease Yakov's mind if he ever found out.

"With that thief? Nuh-uh. He already owes me an entire bottle of lotion, a mascara and a lipgloss. And for some reason, my throwaway razors are gone too. I'm not endangering any more of my stuff to him!" You shot a glare at Victor but he intentionally pretended not to hear nor see you. Seriously?

"Just lock them up or something, I don't care. Maybe I should just sleep on the couch. Give me one reason why it's worth sharing this room with you."

You didn't really know why you felt so opposed to the thought of him sleeping on the couch. You should be relived that you wouldn't have to share room with The Russian punk. But you still mumbled the one sentence after taking a brief moment to carefully word out your reason.

"What did you say?"

"... I have a cat."

The silence following almost made you feel like the scene of these weird soap operas that streamed on tv once in a while. But you did have a cat. A beautiful sacred Birman with the eyes of an ocean. And you knew about Yuri's fascination with them. Victor mentioned it somewhere along the lines when discussing his arrival days ago. And if you had to give him one reason, then that would be the one. It's probably the only reason too.

"Where." It wasn't a question. It almost made you giggle but you kept a straight face. Victor who knew the reason behind your words, almost cracked under the pressure.

"He's probable sleeping under the blanket on my bed, as always-"

Yuri pushed Victor aside with a stern 'move' and headed for your bed. A little anxious, you followed him through the entrance, afraid that he would be like one of those crazy catpeople who never stopped bothering their cat. You worried because you were one of those people. But because your cat was rather clingy too and you always had a bunch of stuff to do daytime, it kind of evened out the contrast. Two crazy people were too much, you figured.

"Well, we'll go off now and let you two bond now. Don't forget that we're having afternoon tea in an hour!" And with that, Victor and Yuuri was out of the picture. For awhile.

A round uneven pile under you blanket made Yuri stop at the end of the bed. You stood beside him as he lifted the blanket, revealing the fuzzy ball that was your cat. Round eyes stared up at the both at you and the cat stretched it's back, making a 'u' position.

"His name is Magnolia. You'll have to apologize to him for interrupting his sleepy time though." You half expected Yuri to scoff at your statement, thinking you were taking the animal too seriously. But the baby voice he used to communicate with Magnolia next almost had you taking a step back.

"Hi, Magnolia... 'm sorry, pretty boy. You'll have to forgive me, I'm afraid." He kept on talking to the sleepy cat as he extended a hand for him to smell. Magnolia yawned and gave the hand a sniff before sitting up, eyes intensely staring into the boy's soul. You could tell by the hesitation of Yuri's petting hand that he really wanted the cat's approval. He cat kept staring him straight in the eyes which usually means bad. Though, the purring heard from his belly said the opposite. You finally relaxed a little. Magnolia is very picky with who gets to touch him and you were expecting a bite, honestly.

"He's always been so stare-y... I've figured that he only stare at people he like or something he finds very interesting." You crouched down beside Yuri and rested with your arms at the bedside.

"Like owner, like cat, I guess then. I feel like he has the exact same piercing gaze you gave me earlier." Yuri grinned smugly at you and turned back his attention to the ball of fur who stood up, stroking its back to your chin. A little heat rose to your cheeks and you hoped Magnolia covered it up well enough with his body. It was kind of true. And you couldn't really deny it. You always did watch things a little to intense. But just because you found people very interesting, always seeking to improve your understanding and emotional range at any given time. So you shrugged your shoulders and coughed a little when the cat made sure to get his butt all up in your face too. This habit, you had noticed, was a trait almost every cat held within them.

"You're going to object or what?" Yuri caught your attention again and Magnolia moved away from your face just in time. So he was expecting some kind of denial.

"You're not wrong... You've just got the wrong idea of it."

"What do you mean?"

"You should probably start getting yourself settled here. We only have one hour."

"You didn't answer me." Yuri's remark left unanswered as well as you stood up and threw a bag at him. A light 'oof' slipped through him as the heavy thing hit him right in the stomach.

"Hey!"

You grinned and opened another bag, pouring the internal onto the floor. Tons of clothes splattered on the floor. Everything in-between black training clothes to underwear and a pajamas with cat prints. A keychain with a chibi cat and a stuffed animal of a tiger fell out on the floor lastly on top of the pile. Yuri quickly made his way to the clothes and gathered them in his arms, trying to hide them away. It was worth taking an extra look at the blush staining his cheeks. You wondered if you'd just met a fellow catmerch fan as instense as you. No, this was far crazier than you! Especially as you recognized the keychain being a print of his own cat that you'd seen on a social media Yuri Plisetsky fanpage once.

"Y-you can't touch my stuff! Nor see it!" His voice was a good blend of anger and a thick stain of embarrassment.

Maybe it wasn't ideal poring someone else's belongings onto the floor. But you knew that look that Yuri bearded only moments ago. The cat had taken him as his loyal servant and Yuri wasn't intending to move until he had satisfied Magnolia's every need. If you let that happen, it would take the entire hour you had to clean up the room. And you clearly didn't have that time.

"Just hurry up and help me then if I'm not allowed to touch it!"

"Fine! And move your stupid clothes and stuff over to your half of the room!"

(A/N: Shoutout to my cat who gave me the entire butt-in-face idea through experience. I really owe you one, you little jerk<3 Also, what have you thought of the story so far? I bet you Victor has planned a familiar exercise for tomorrow's day of training. Just a little helping hand to get Yuri back into shape, y'know;))

#inspiration #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yurianime #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yurio plisetsky #yuri plisetsky #viktor nikirofov

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ryqoshay · 3 years

Text

Tri-Arame: Spoil and Excite

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~3.2k Rating: G Time Frame: During their 2nd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

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Author’s Note: Somewhat ironically, I took a break from writing the first of my PTXv2 set to write everything I have thus far of PoH, which I took a break from to start this scene, which I took a break from to write the TA chapter “A Break? No Way!” Now I’m going back to finish what I started... or at least some of it...

Summary: The day after Setsuna’s first sleepover at Ayumu’s place with Yuu.

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Ayumu opened her eyes…

Yuu-chan?!

Oh, wait, that’s right, they had a sleepover last night. And like always, Yuu ignored the guest futon and climbed into bed with Ayumu. For a brief moment, Ayumu wondered why she still bothered setting up a futon for Yuu in the first place. Still, it had been quite a while since Yuu last stayed over and it seemed her habits had slipped Ayumu’s sleepy mind.

The shock quickly softened to a quiet comfort as Ayumu allowed herself a few moments to gaze fondly at her best friend’s adorable sleeping face. Why had she been trying to stave off sleepovers? Were they really a childish practice that needed to be left behind now that they were in high school? They had always enjoyed themselves during them. And last night, they had even invited a new guest.

That’s right, Setsuna-chan is here as well.

Ayumu slid out from under the duvet, carefully to avoid waking Yuu, before sitting up. However, that vantage point only gave her a view of the empty guest futon. Setsuna was closer and thus obscured by Yuu and the bedding. Ayumu turned onto her hands and knees and crawled backward down her bed and over the footboard.

Standing up, she could now see the other occupant in the room. And she had to hold back a chuckle at the sight. Setsuna lay on her back, sleeping soundly while tightly clutching Ayumu’s stuffed rabbit.

Thinking back on the prior night, Ayumu remembered that Setsuna had been quite attached to the plush, only putting it down for dinner and bathing. She had mentioned having an extensive collection of plushies herself and Ayumu couldn’t help wondering if she slept with one at home as well. Or perhaps it just provided her with some comfort while sleeping in an unfamiliar place? Either way, it was very cute.

It was also interesting that Setsuna had selected the very same push as Yuu. Years ago, Ayumu and her parents had gone on a family vacation. Yuu had been upset about the two of them not being able to see each other for so long, so Ayumu had offered to let her borrow a plush to hug in her absence. It became a bit of a tradition for a few years before her parents started inviting Yuu along with them.

After admiring the lovely scene of her sleeping friends for another minute or two, Ayumu turned and made her way out of her room and headed toward the bathroom to wash her face and start getting ready for the day.

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“So,” Mrs. Uehara spoke up as the three girls were finishing eating the breakfast she had prepared for them “you three have any fun plans for the day?”

“Oh, uhm…” Setsuna was the one to reply “I actually need to head home soon to study.”

“How very responsible.” Ayumu’s mother smiled. “At least one of my daughters could learn a lesson from you, Setsuna.”

Ayumu couldn’t help giggling as Yuu pursed her lips into a pout.

Still, something about Setsuna’s demeanor tugged at Ayumu. Had she detected disappointment in her friend’s tone? Ayumu knew Setsuna was dedicated to her studies, even more so than herself, but did she really not want to do so? Or was it the prospect of going home that bothered her? Perhaps…

“You could study here if you want, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu heard herself offer before the thoughts had fully coalesced in her consciousness.

There was no mistaking the interest that flashed across Setsuna’s face. However, “Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.” the all-too-polite girl tried to deflect. “You’ve all already done so mu…”

“That’s a great idea, Ayumu!” Yuu perked up as well. “We should totally have a study session together, Setsuna-chan! I’ve always studied better when I’m studying with Ayumu. Though lately I’ve found listening to school idol music also helps. Hey, maybe we should try combining them!”

Well that was one way to hook someone like Setsuna. “I’ve never been able to listen to school idol music while studying at home…” She admitted, clearly pondering the possibilities.

“Although I suppose you probably need to go home to get your books.” Ayumu thought aloud.

Setsuna shook her head. “No, I have them here.”

Yuu chuckled. “Of course you do.”

“I’m not sure if you three will fit around that table of yours, Ayumu.” Mr. Uehara spoke from where he was sitting in the living room. “It was fine last night as you shared a laptop for watching stuff, but you and Yuu barely fit when you each have your own books and paperwork.”

That was true. Ayumu realized she hadn’t considered that.

“Perhaps we should move this one into your room for the day?” Her father knocked the kotatsu he was currently under as emphasis. “This one has plenty of surface area for you three to use.”

“And if you three are going to start studying together regularly,” Mrs. Uehara added “perhaps we should look into getting you a new one.”

Ayumu considered the offer. While she liked her current table, there was no denying its small size. She got it as a child and she and Yuu had outgrown it years ago, but she had kept it anyway because it was cute. She was overdue for one of a more appropriate size. Especially if she was going to start having more guests than just Yuu.

Granted, Ayumu wasn’t sure she was ready to have just anyone come over to visit. She hadn’t hesitated with Setsuna, but she was an exception, for whatever reason. Inviting Setsuna had felt almost as natural as inviting Yuu, though it probably had a lot to do with her decision to help her friend find new places to be herself and not hide her hobbies and passions.

“Alright.” Ayumu agreed after a moment. “Thank you, Mama, Papa.”

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“Ne, Ayumu.” Yuu leaned over and around the table. “What’s this part mean?”

Ayumu looked to where Yuu was pointing in her book and began to explain.

“Thanks.” Yuu grinned and returned to her work.

“You’re welcome.” Ayumu returned a smile of her own before glancing across the table to the other occupant.

Setsuna looked so focused that Ayumu wondered if she had even noticed the interaction. However, the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth when the chorus of a familiar school idol song came through the speakers of Ayumu’s laptop indicated that she maintained an amount of awareness of her surroundings.

The three girls were in the middle of their second study session of the day. After their first in the morning, they had taken a break for lunch and get up and move around. They ended up heading to the mall for both purposes. Ayumu’s mother gave her some money so they could visit a furniture store there and pick out a new kotatsu to be delivered. It had been a good break before getting back to schoolwork.

Setsuna tilted her head a little and turned her chin. Suddenly, a series of loud snaps could be heard over the music. Setsuna’s eyes widened as she froze in a strange position. Ayumu and Yuu stared in shock for a moment before a brilliant blush began blooming on the other girl’s cheeks.

“I… I’m sorry!” Setsuna apologized.

Yuu tried to hold back a laugh, snorted, and eventually failed.

“Are you alright, Setsuna-chan?” Ayumu asked, reaching over to swat at Yuu.

“I’m fine.” Setsuna admitted. “I just… I didn’t think it would be that loud. I’m sorry.”

Yuu pushed herself out from the table and crawled over to a position behind Setsuna.

“Yuu-san?” The raven-haired girl questioned before stiffening as Yuu’s hands came down on her shoulders. “Eh?”

“Ever since Ayumu became a school idol,” Yuu explained as she began to massage around Setsuna’s neck “I’ve been practicing my technique so I can help her relax and such.”

“I se…” Setsuna cut off as Yuu apparently found a knot.

“Someone’s been hunched over her books a lot lately.” Yuu commented, pushing into another knot she had found.

“Well, we did just have exams this week.” Setsuna managed to say.

Ayumu smiled through a surge of jealousy. Part of her wanted Yuu to reserve such things for her and her alone. However, another part wanted to see Setsuna relieved of her obvious stress.

“Yup. We sure did.” Yuu grinned. “And that’s why I’ll get Ayumu next. But she wasn’t the one cracking her neck just now like Setsuna-chan.”

Ayumu’s envy began to subside. “Then I can do Yuu-chan after that.” She said, feeling her smile become more genuine.

“I can help.” Setsuna insisted. “Uhm… maybe I can do Ayumu-san? That way Yuu-san doesn’t have to do two of us and I can at least repay you a little.”

“Repay?” Ayumu questioned before realizing she probably already had a good idea of what Setsuna meant.

“You two have been so kind to me this weekend.” Setsuna said exactly, almost word for word, what Ayumu predicted. “You spoil me too much.” That last bit was unexpected, though.

“On the contrary.” Yuu giggled. “I don’t think we spoil you enough, Setsuna-chan.”

“Mm?” Setsuna seemed confused by Yuu’s response. “Ayumu-san?” She asked for a clarification.

“Sorry, Setsuna-chan,” Ayumu shook her head slightly “but I think I’m going to have to agree with Yuu-chan on this one, because I’m not really sure if anything we’ve been doing could be considered spoiling.”

“Exactly.” Yuu nodded. “This is all pretty normal for us.”

“Hrm…” Setsuna considered. “Well, if you think there is anything I can do to repay…”

“Nope.” Yuu interrupted.

“Eh?”

“There’s nothing to repay.”

“But…”

“Yuu-chan’s right.” Ayumu assured, wondering if Setsuna really wasn’t accustomed to the same amount of attention and affection with which she and Yuu were familiar. “It’s been fun hanging out with you, Setsuna-chan. And it seems you’ve been enjoying yourself as well, so that makes me happy.”

“Right.” Yuu agreed. “So just keep being the awesome friend you are, and it will all be fine. I look forward to more study sessions and anime marathons and sleepovers and whatever other fun things we come up with along the way. And hey, maybe we’ll hang out at your place someday. Or maybe, if we’re still friends in college, we’ll gather in your dorm room or something.” She shrugged. “I dunno, I think it will all work out somehow.”

“Thank you… both of you.” Setsuna said somewhat sheepishly.

“There.” Yuu said after a few minutes. “Feel a little better, Setsuna-chan?” She patted the other girl’s shoulders. “A little looser? More relaxed.”

“Yes.” Setsuna nodded. “Thank you again, Yuu-san.”

“You’re welcome.” Yuu smiled. “And now it’s Ayumu’s turn. You said you wanted to do it, right, Setsuna-chan?”

Setsuna nodded again before looking up at Ayumu. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“No, that’s fine.” Ayumu agreed.

As Setsuna moved around the table, Ayumu couldn’t help wondering about her abilities. Certainly, Yuu had improved in the last couple weeks, but she was nowhere near professional level. Not that Ayumu minded, of course, as she was far happier with the effort Yuu put in on her behalf than the ultimate results. But, how would Setsuna compare?

One difference was immediately apparent. Either Setsuna was stronger or Yuu hadn’t learned to utilize her own strength. Or Yuu was holding back as she didn’t know whether or not Ayumu could handle the pressure, which, in fairness, Ayumu hadn’t been sure either. But while part of Ayumu wanted to shy away from Setsuna’s surprising strength, the rest of her wanted to relax into the massage. She could feel the week’s tensions releasing as Setsuna pressed into the knots she found. And it was glorious.

A knock sounded at the door. “Ayumu?” Her mother’s voice came from the other side.

“Yes, Mama?”

The door opened and Mrs. Uehara poked her head into the room. “I’m about to start making dinner and need to know how much to make, are you all staying here tonight?”

“I’ll be here.” Yuu affirmed.

“Setsuna? You’re more than welcome as well.”

“Dinner? Overnight?” Setsuna blinked. “I’d like to, but I only brought one change of clothes.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, my dear.” Mrs. Uehara dismissed with a chuckle. “I’ll be running a load later, so just leave whatever you want cleaned in the basket when you take your bath. You as well, Yuu.”

“Oh, uhm… let me message my mom for permission…” Setsuna searched the table. “Thank you, Yuu-san.” She accepted her phone as the other girl handed it to her.

“Alright, I’ll set a place for you.” Mrs. Uehara decided before a response came. “And if you do end up needing to go home, we’ll just have leftovers as a side for breakfast tomorrow.” She added before exiting and closing the door behind her.

“And before you think otherwise, Setsuna-chan,” Yuu spoke up “no, that’s not spoiling. Ayumama’s just like that.”

Ayumu shook her head. Yuu had been referring to her mother in that manner for a while now, but she had yet to get used to it.

“Thank you, Setsuna-chan.” She said aloud. “That felt wonderful.”

“You’re welcome, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna replied as she made her way back to her prior place. “I am happy I was able to help.”

“Alright, your turn, Yuu-chan.” Ayumu said before crawling over.

Yuu grinned as she settled into a comfortable position.

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“Ya know,” Yuu said as the three girls headed back to Ayumu’s room after dinner “we spent almost the entire day studying.”

“Mm.” Ayumu hummed in acknowledgement.

“And we got a lot done.”

“Yes.” Setsuna agreed. “I believe Yuu-san’s idea to listen to school idol music worked very well. I may have to try to emulate it somehow at home.”

“Maybe try to find a good set of headphones that won’t leak sound that your parents could hear?” Yuu suggested.

“Perhaps I will look for a set like that.” Setsuna said with a nod. “That said, I believe the company helped as well.”

“I know, right?” Yuu grinned. “Studying together is the best. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“Definitely.” Ayumu agreed.

“Hey, maybe next time we can study at my place.” Yuu offered. “I know my parents will want a shot at spoiling Setsuna-chan as well.”

Ayumu couldn’t help laughing lightly as Setsuna pouted adorably at Yuu’s teasing. And as the trio settled back around the kotatsu, she found herself wanting to expand what she could do for her friend. She and Yuu had already quietly agreed to do what they could to give Setsuna a place where she could enjoy her hobbies as much as she wanted. So perhaps, they could also help Setsuna see new and different ways friends and family interacted in hopes that she might be less apprehensive in accepting things that Ayumu and Yuu considered normal.

Not that the idea of spoiling someone like Setsuna was unappealing. She already loved spoiling Yuu, after all. But if Setsuna’s reactions thus far were anything to go by, Ayumu wondered about doing something that actually reached a level she would consider spoiling.

“Anyway, I say we take a break for the rest of the night and watch some more anime.” Yuu proposed, bringing Ayumu back to reality. “Got any recommendations, Setsuna-chan?”

“Of course!” Setsuna’s mood turned on a dime. “There is a series based on another light novel series by the same author as the one we watched last night. It’s animated by a different studio but maintains a similar feel to the other series. It’s so~ good! And the main character is so~ cute when she… wait, no, I shouldn’t spoil it all.”

“Sounds like we have a winner.” Yuu laughed.

Now those were the smiles Ayumu liked to see. Both Yuu and Setsuna looked so happy as they got excited over the prospect of another anime marathon, even if it was another series Setsuna had already seen.

Yuu turned the laptop toward Setsuna so she could bring up the streaming site. However, as soon as Setsuna found the series they were to watch, she spun the device around to face Ayumu. Hm? Yuu smiled and moved around to Ayumu’s side.

“You two let me be in the middle last night because I was the guest.” Setsuna explained, moving to Ayumu’s other side. “But tonight, as thanks, I think our host should have a turn.”

“But you don’t have to re…” Ayumu started.

“Not repayment, just fairness.” Setsuna shook her head. “If we do this again sometime, then it can be Yuu-san’s turn.”

“If?” Yuu scrunched up her face. “Of course we’re gonna do this again, Setsuna-chan. Well, maybe not always full series marathons every time, but we just found a new table for Ayumu today for that very reason.”

Actually, the table was to give us more space for studying. Ayumu thought to herself. But she wasn’t opposed to also using it for more casual purposes, so she didn’t bother contradicting Yuu on the point.

“Right, sorry. I just didn’t want to assume.” Setsuna apologized.

“Always so polite.” Yuu sighed. “Anyway, aren’t you missing something?”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you cuddling a rabbit all last night?”

“I… wha?” Pink began to dust Setsuna’s cheeks. “That was… I…” Her gaze found Ayumu. “I didn’t even realize until I woke up… But it was just so soft, and I haven’t slept anywhere but in my own bed for years, and… I’m sorry, I should have asked…”

Ayumu chucked as her assumption had been proven correct. “It’s fine, Setsuna-chan. If you want to borrow it again tonight, feel free.”

Setsuna turned her head toward Ayumu’s collection of stuffed animals but didn’t move otherwise.

After a moment of silence, Yuu stood up and walked over to the display. “Ne, Ayumu, you want your bear? Or your snake?” She said grabbing both and the rabbit. “I’ll take the other.” She moved back to the table.

“Snake, please.” Ayumu said and accepted the plush.

“Thank you, Yuu-san.” Setsuna said as she was handed the rabbit. “And Ayumu-san.”

Yuu-chan’s right. Ayumu thought to herself. Who cares if it’s a little childish? She glanced to one side to see Yuu grinning as she arranged the pink bear to sit in her lap. On her other side, Ayumu noticed Setsuna already hugging the rabbit tight. They were both cute in their own way. She thought as she draped the stuffed snake around her neck as she so often did with Sasuke, her real snake, who was currently being moody during as he shed, thus why his terrarium was being covered with a blanket.

“And now, anime marathon night two begins!” Yuu announced, reaching out to hit Play. She then leaned into Ayumu, enough to push her into Setsuna.

“Eh?” Ayumu uttered, alongside Setsuna’s questioning hum. “Yuu-chan?”

Yuu just giggled and shifted enough to allow Ayumu to sit back up straight again. However, in doing so, she couldn’t help noticing Setsuna followed along as though her shoulder had been magnetically stuck to hers. Ayumu was now sandwiched, likely tighter than the larger kotatsu necessitated, between her two friends as they both leaned in to improve their viewing angle.

Well, tight, yes, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, it was quite comfortable. As the opening sequence began, Ayumu decided she could get used to watching anime like this.

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Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

#YuuAyuSetsu #Takasaki Yuu #Yuki Setsuna #Uehara Ayumu #Tri-Arame #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic

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edmund-valks · 4 years

Text

Ilandreline - Just One Cookie

(( Part I: The Call ))

(( Part II: A Compound Beginning ))

If you listened closely enough, you could hear the emptiness breathing.

It was fascinating to consider, or would have been if it weren't also slightly terrifying. There was no reason for this space to sound like the lungs of some unutterable beast, yet it did. Everything she knew about the Shadowed Path said it was empty, that nothing dwelt here and nothing could. Perhaps nothing did. What if the very substance of the Path was alive in some fashion? The implications were-

Not important right now. That was her mother's voice, reminding her that there would only be time for later speculation if she lived to do it. Smart folk did not dally on these roads, even those who knew how to walk them. They were treacherous, and Ilandreline did not mean their terrain. She'd lost a distant cousin to them more than a century earlier, and supposedly even the one who'd known enough to open the First Tree to the darkness at its roots hadn't known enough to come back.

But they were fast. She'd used them to get to Kalimdor in a few days, or to get from Tirisfal to her family's lands in an hour. Time and distance worked differently here, or perhaps they worked exactly the same and locationality was the odd one. There were multiple frames of reference to choose from, but they all boiled down to the same result: travel here was vastly more efficient than on Azeroth. Which is why you need to get moving instead of standing around!

Her feet started moving again, picking their way over what she assumed counted as "the ground". It was definitely dirt-like, and there were… grassish things… to either side, but it didn't smell quite right. Not for nature, at least. Most plants didn't smell so strongly of iron. No, not iron. She sniffed again, trying to place it. Ah, right. Blood. Fresh blood, at that, before it dulled to a brown stain on the stones. She wondered what this place would look like in sunlight. Would its appearance match the sharp scents? Could it even exist under such harsh light?

Despite carrying no torch, Ila was grateful for the sun's absence. Her sensitive eyes could remain free of the goggles for a little longer, taking in all the subtle variations of shadow that were lost in the harshness of day. She hadn't noticed how much she'd missed living with naked eyes until she'd started visiting with Granny Laine. The Respite was a lot of things, but even Silverpine gloom didn't compare to the tranquil shade of their forest. When she’d left the Ghostlands a few years ago, she’d felt like she had no home; now it seemed she’d found two. Ilandreline smiled at that, letting her mind wander as much as her body.

Time definitely didn’t function normally in the space. The pocket watch she’d made in her early days with the Fence told her it had been an hour, but her legs said it was much longer than that despite only feeling like fifteen minutes had passed. She pushed on, digging into her snack bag to put some energy back into her muscles. An hour later by internal reckoning -- and half that by the watch -- she stumbled out of sheer exhaustion and decided maybe it wasn’t time to get back up just yet. Had it been two hours or twelve? How far had she gone? Why were her first days’ meals gone already and how was she still hungry?

Her eyelids were heavy, far heavier than they should’ve been. “Fuck it, nap time.” The words came out slurred. It was a struggle just to move her pack beneath her head, to use it as a pillow. Before she drifted off, Ila stuffed one of her grandmother’s cookies into her mouth, figuring there was no better time for some homemade coziness than immediately before passing out to sleep entirely unprotected in the nightmarish wilderness-phase running tangent to her plane of origin. Aurelaine often joked she’d baked quite a few dishes with a lot of love in her younger days, where love was a euphemism for any number of exciting poisons. As she swallowed the last of the cookie and drifted into the deeper darkness of sleep, Ilandreline was quite positive she could taste some of that same love now.

***

Waking up felt surprisingly pleasant and not at all terrifying. Granny Laine was there, looking amused, and a vine had grown over her, but otherwise everything seemed… fine. Good, even. Ila stood and stretched, yawning, considering the last time sleep had left her so refreshed. Never? That sounded right.

"Couldn't help sneaking a treat before bed, eh?" Her grandmother's voice was mock-chiding, the only good kind of chiding to receive from her. "I should've known."

The vine tried to slither back around her leg, so she kicked it. "You didn't give me cookies to not eat them. It was lonely and I thought a taste of home would be nice. Didn't expect it to, I dunno, summon you or whatever."

"Is that what you think they did?"

The young elf shrugged, gathering her gear and preparing to get back on the road. "You're here, aren't you? Shall we?"

Her grandmother made an indeterminate noise in her throat but began walking beside her nonetheless. It was nice, really. They'd gone for a few strolls back home, but there were always people around to cause trouble. Not here. It was just the two of them and an entire ecology built on what sure seemed to be carnivorous plants.

They walked in silence for some time, only pausing for Ilandreline to sip the water she'd brought, trying to get the leftover tastes from the night out of her mouth. Everything, even the air, had an unusual taste; not of decay as she'd expected. Instead it was something remembered from childhood, one of those memories that hid if you looked straight at it. She'd have to sneak up on it by pretending to be interested in something else.

"So is this one of those things where we walk and you point out little things I need to know to survive or grow or whatever?"

She saw the cryptic smile from the corner of her eye. "Something like that, perhaps. Do you still need me holding your hand?"

"What? No! I just… not all of this comes easy, you know that. I'm fine with making things up as I go, but that's really dangerous with… this stuff." Ila gestured broadly, encompassing their entire surroundings. "I like to have the numbers on my side. There aren't any numbers here, no science. It's all, I don't know, epistemological gradients or something."

Aurelaine laughed, a gravelly sound bordering on coughing. A chortle! That's what one sounds like. "You're not wrong, child. I'm only along to observe. Maybe I can point something out that helps; maybe I even will. This is your journey, though, not mine. I've had my share already, paid the prices."

That made sense. They continued, once more quiet, moving too fast and too slow at once, causing everything around them to be in perfect detail as it warped under the effects of tunnel vision. The metallic taste remained in the back of her throat, tickling the corners of recollection. She refused to focus on it, knowing that to do so would ensure she never remembered the answer.

Everything changed from one blink to the next. The landscape was even darker now, near blinding to her gifted sight. Her nostrils flared, the distinct aroma of blood foremost in the air, enough to make one hungry. Or perhaps that was unrelated; journeys required food. As she went for her trail mix, something caught her wrist, stopped it entirely. Frowning, she glanced down to find a rubbery tendril wrapped around her arm. "Fuck off," she said, getting no reaction. The next best idea would be to cut it, but the only knife she had at the moment was not one she was willing to risk on a simple tentacle. She looked over to her grandmother instead. "Any chance you can do something about this?"

Grey eyebrows arched as eyes flicked from Ilandreline’s face to the appendage and back. “Of course I can.” She paused then deliberately added, “I won’t.”

Should’ve expected as much. “This one of those ‘your journey, your problem’ moments?” When Aurelaine nodded, she sighed. Time to figure it out then. There was a way; she was supposed to find it. Trial by fire and all that.

“If I go solving your problems,” the predictable lecture began, “you’ll keep expecting me to give you the answers. We both know that’s not how you learn. You want to see the whole process, derived from first principles. That way you can extend the logic as far as it goes, come up with your own hypotheses. It also ensures you aren’t limited by the pace of your teacher, doesn’t it?”

The fraction of her consciousness paying attention laughed. “Sure does. Saves them the trouble of trying to answer all my ‘why’ questions, too, so it’s really a service when you think about it. Don’t have to ask why if I’ve already done the math.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware that you’re infuriating, Lina, you don’t have to remind me.” Dry humour ran in the family even if it skipped a generation. “Getting back to the matter at hand, I’d simply remind that little pest about the order of things. It’s a remnant, a cast-off, a weak afterthought of a failed god’s stray thoughts. A pale imitation of the majesty to be found in the Great Dark, yearning to be more than it ever could. I’d simply banish it and move on.”

That was one possibility then, banishment. And how did banishing work? Ila tried to dredge up the memories of mostly futile arcane schooling, seeking the bits that had remained. Summoning circles… banishing circles? An inversion of process, though the commanding nature remained constant. How did that work for her, though? She knew how to draw the runes, but had never been able to power them independently. Blood would work, of course, had she prepared the circle already. There had to be another way.

She rolled back through the words, sifting through them more by “feel” than analysis. Hunches were the backbone of discovery; you felt something would be the answer, so you thought through the possibility. What else had been hinted at? Remnant. Afterthought. Failed. Imitation. Yearning. Afterthought-Imitation-Yearning. Was there something there? She ran her tongue along the backs of her teeth, tasting iron and arsenic and something more as her mind kicked into gear.

The order of things. These paths were bored through the near-realms of Azeroth by the so-called Old Gods, the entrapped dwellers-between-stars her grandmother held in such low esteem. A trapped god was no god at all, for a proper god could not be limited. That meant any of their leftovers were inherently inferior to the powers receiving her family’s offerings. Not that creatures spawned from the lesser entities recognized Glimmerbow authority, but they should have. There was that connection, like distant cousins where one is heir to a throne and the other is a cast-off from some hedge knight.

Oh, is that it? Connectivity? Like to like? The tendril tightened, squeezing her bones. It was starting to hurt. If she waited too much longer, she might have to finish her trip with a shattered wrist. Time to see if I learned anything.

Ilandreline focused the entirety of her consciousness on the wriggling mass, willing her vision to bore through the layers to see down to where it was no longer a physical appendage. Deep down, it was a thoughtform, a psychic remnant, a projection, and she needed to see that. How long it took to finally happen, she didn’t know. She was drenched in sweat, and shaking from the effort, but she could see it clearly.

Banishment would require antithesis, but… that’s not what this is. We’re the same, aren’t we, cousins from the same blood? I can’t banish myself. So what if… She turned most of her attention inward, leaving only enough out to keep firm mental grasp on the essence of her assailant. There was this dead-end creature left behind by one of the Four… and then there was her. They were different, except where they weren’t. Similarity was what she needed now.

She burrowed into herself, pushing through the layers of supposed sophistication. On the lowest level she was not an elf, or even something shaped. She was an extension of the universe’s primal forces, a conduit of the Eternal Dark. At that point, she was what the tentacle thought itself to be. Letting herself dwell entirely in that space, she lost her self and called out to this distant cousin. See me, her mind cried, know me for what I am!

Their sameness was her focus, to establish communion. Something resonated -- somehow -- drawing the psychic echo toward her. She could feel its alienness, the oil-slick of fractal madness in its relict consciousness, just as surely as she knew her own essence was vastly more potent. What others would call the taint of her heritage was a strength here; she formed a pseudopod of self, vibrating midnight purple, and whipped outward. The sensation of startlement rippled across her mind, followed immediately by the primal panic of something being drawn to its inexorable demise.

The tendril was swallowed within her, its corrupt form dissolving within her purity of faith. A priest of the Glimmerbows was an architect of dissolution, a bringer of endings to foster the chaos of the new. What she hadn’t expected was the way it became a part of her.

Ila had never been at war in her own mind before. This severed piece of a dead un-god struggled with all its might to avoid being broken down, flailing every which way. For a moment she worried she might lose and end up a prisoner in her own flesh. Then reason reasserted itself, and the flexibility of mind her grandmother had praised made clear its value. She bent without breaking, absorbed the harshest assaults, returned to form without permanent deformation. And then she swallowed it whole, allowing the thing to be torn apart and joined with her essence.

Shaking so hard she couldn’t have written a single legible letter, the elf opened her eyes. Her grandmother faded from sight, though her approving gaze lingered. The overlapping flavours of multiple poisons lingered, dancing over her taste buds and scratching at her throat. She had no idea where she was, though she knew she had been walking all this time. The ligature marks of the tentacle remained on her forearm, though, proof that something had happened, that she had conquered the smallest challenge.

Several deep breaths later, the shivering stopped. Her whole body still tingled, the aftereffects of an adrenaline overdose, but that was manageable. She took a swig of water to put moisture back into her body, then pulled the “map” from her inside jacket pocket. It was more algorithmical than cartographical, but she read it as easily as Thalassian. There was… a place to be, and she was much closer now than when she had started.

Through an act of will, Ilandreline set her legs in motion again. There would be others, she knew. This realm was made from the dreams of god-corpses, an afterimage of what they’d tried to make real. But she had proof they paled before the strength Aurelaine had cultivated in her. Let the dead gods try their worst.

Stretching out through the mental channels her hallucinations had opened, she tasted the planar gradient and turned toward her destination. Plum was home and nightmare was the enemy, but blood and bone and leaf and light showed the way. Not entirely certain the poisons had actually left her system, Ila climbed toward her destination unaware of the horrific grin on her face.

#ilandreline #ilandreline glimmerbow #fence macabre #wow rp #warcraft rp

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