#like unless i see him next to someone considerably shorter or someone I know is very tall

[rafent]

if it was up to her, she wouldn't be doing this. and— well, she guesses it is up to her. but — he'd died, hadn't he? or as much as the training simulation killed someone, anyway. in a way, she did wonder how that worked; from her own experience, it was as real as real could be . . . but then she was awake again for the next round, launched straight into battle.

thinking about it, she realizes it's not any different from those missions . . . like waking up from a bad dream into a worse one.

"professor rafal!"

she greets him from a short distance, ringing off the nearby building's stone walls. at a jog, she tries to catch up before he vanishes. who knows if he'd want to talk to her at all, and she expects she'll only win some more rebuke in return unless he proved less volatile outside of stressful situations.

whatever the case though, her guardian and the model of her father had taught her proper manners. of all of them, he'd had the toughest time. "it's me, caeldori. i wanted to ask if you were all right." a glance shows nothing wrong — not that there would be, but looking anyway feels second nature. "thank you for all your support in the arena training back there. really, i don't think i would've reached my full potential without you."

A pale ghost rendered not by death or its finality but the elusive act of departure, Rafal left his allies with nary a word. His role in the simulation had finished and so too had the fleeting connections forged during its life. Felled in combat only to be awoken and restored in the same breath, going from captured to dancing to dying, the outlandish string of experiences might have even conveyed as a mere dream. . .if not for the girl who confirmed them to be reality with her very presence.

'Professor Rafal!'

Caeldori's earnest voice by now invoked some familiarity. At her call, long strides fell shorter then petered out to a halt, though he did not yet honor the approaching student with a turn. "I was struck down, and yet continue to stand before you as the picture of health. Such an answer ought to suffice."

His response echoed without warmth, a cold matter-of-fact tone fit to deck the cobble walls like a drapery. Nevertheless, her mannerly approach and provision of thanks were not as invisible to him as such a fact made seem. He considered the overture and succeeding a long pause the forbidding angles of his posture loosened on a sigh. At last his body swiveled around to acknowledge her properly.

Humans had a curious if not delusional way of bringing matters and misconceptions onto themselves, even if the Fell Heir was not quite perfectly honest himself. Rafal had no desire for gratitude, he had not done it for her, these things remained wholly true; and yet nor would he have wished to see her fall. Whereas his intentions could be debated, the consideration of one's 'full potential' was a secure and ever timeless one. His eyes trained upon her, allotting a quiet thoughtfulness to the stare.

"You come with gratitude, but if you truly seek to repay my support, then do so with strength." That was all that needed saying, as much an answer to her thanks as the implicit extension of his. Vivid yet unseen, his memory flickered to the young woman's recent parry in his defense. What else could measure equally to gratitude than unfailing advice? To become so strong that others were not needed - stronger and better than anyone. That would prove her succor better than Rafal ever could.

". . .become so strong that there is no need for aid, Caeldori."

With that, his feet pointed away to resume his path. Rafal, of course, intended on doing the same.

[windblooms]

hello!! can i request love language hcs for the tall boys? (diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli)

headcanons below!  how they show their love + how they like being loved in return. 

CHILDE : acts of service / quality time.

childe finds the time for his family despite his job: he regularly sends letters to his family in snezhnaya, and even nearly jeopardizes the respect of his subordinates to protect his brother.

underneath his fox-like pretense is a man who keeps his promises.  he goes to extreme lengths to prioritize his loved-ones, so i can see him showing his affection through acts of service.

childe always wants to show you that he’s always thinking of you, that he can take care of you.  he shows his support for you through traditionally domestic actions.

hungry?  he’s already preparing food for you before lunch time.  tense after a long day out?  he’s got dinner covered too, plus some willing fingers to rub against your back for a massage.  craving a hot bath?  he’ll draw one for you too, lightly kissing your cheek and carding his fingers through your hair.

“don’t worry about it.  you’ve worked hard, and i want my darling to rest.”

the best way to convey your adoration for him would be through quality time.

he gets giddy just listening to you talk about date ideas.  for childe, hearing all the thought you’ve put into supporting your relationship reaffirms that you’re just as invested as he is.

it makes him feel that you want to be around and enjoy activities with him, that he’s someone who’s company you crave and find solace in.

it indirectly reaffirms that he’s looking after you properly as well.

DILUC : quality time / physical touch.

arguably one of the most withdrawn characters in the game, diluc doesn’t allow people into his heart easily.  it’d be more feasible to kill four ruin guards in a minute than force oneself into the barrier he’s chosen to put between himself and others – a barrier that he’s involuntarily put up due to his tumultuous past.

because of this, i can see him reinforcing his connection with his partner through quality time: as an individual who has had his loved ones distanced through factors out of his control, after finding security and companionship with a partner, his commitment will be most evident in how he sets aside personal time for them.

deep conversations aren’t necessary.  just you and him in the privacy of your room, talking about your day and what you have planned for tomorrow, or discussing mondstadtian politics off-handedly, with one or two sly quips from him, as a hearth flickers against the wall.

his desire for exclusive time with you somewhat blends in with his hidden affinity for physical touch.

it doesn’t have to be a lot.  simple hand-squeezes reassure your tangible presence next to him.  when you embrace, he finds the fit of your body against his comforting, like puzzle pieces slotting together.  or even just your hand on his shoulder as you walk by his work desk, checking up on him.

your touches reassert that you’re there for him, that he can always come home to you, and that you will always be his home.

“there’s no time like the present.  the days are becoming shorter . . . but that just means that i’ll have to spend each one with you.”

KAEYA : words of affirmation / physical touch.

kaeya, having a penchant for pretty words, is accustomed to prying whatever reaction out of bystanders that he so chooses, whether it be complimentary or underhanded.  for this  unconventionally insightful  suave bachelor, it’s a no-brainer: he’ll show his love through words of affirmation.

there’s something cute about being obvious in your relationship.  openly referring to you through pet-names in public, such as babe, or more jokingly, snowdrop; encouraging your accomplishments and often (un)intentionally praising your achievements in the presence of his coworkers.  he’s always proud of you, and wants others to know about your capabilities and his affections for you.

it’s just – hm!  endearing to see you flush with pride at his affirmations, as if you believe in his words and in his faith.

physical touch would be how kaeya prefers receiving love in return. 

just as how he’s there for you verbally, it eases him when you find security in him as well.  cuddling together on the couch, with limbs nearly tangled as you both giggle at each others’ antics.  pecks on the nose, or teasing squeezes of forearms. 

physicality requires trust, and your interactions tell him that you’re comfortable with him, that you’re both intimate.  

“it’s getting a bit chilly nowadays.  oh?  come over to me, unless you’d like me to cuddle up to you instead on this dreary, frigid – hey!  no need to be coy, babe.”

ZHONGLI : quality time / gift-giving.

he’s still got a lot to get used to about being mortal – well, about as “mortal” as an archon can ever be.

there are things that he’s still not entirely familiar with.  while he can spout cultural customs and trivia like a parrot, there are still human interactions that he can’t quite understand the sentiment behind.  

quality time will convey your investment to the connection the both of you share while he’s still adapting to mortal culture. 

travel coast to coast with him.  collect herbs and document sightings together while he witnesses the evolution of liyue from his time as a god.  listen to what he says about the land, how he recalls how it once looked, and the memories he’s tied to the soil. 

“this could have been yesterday’s liyue.  a tour guide?  well, that’s not neces – oh, you were referring to yourself.  indeed, i’d treasure your company very much.”

show him the things about liyue that you love.  while not needing to be formal presents, gift-giving will pronounce your consideration for his interests and display your attunement to his learning.

it could be a flower you had found, still planted in the ground, that reminds you of something.  words are the best gifts for a man such as zhongli, where his search for knowledge and stories are boundless. 

perhaps there’s a waterfall that holds community significance.  while zhongli might be able to tell you of its inception, only you can enlighten him on the sentiment behind it.

he’s always learning, with you as his teacher.  this is your liyue, and he’d love to hear its tale. 

[shoichee]

Hey luv! I just got my braces off and I don’t know if I like myself with or without them cause yah girl has ✨confidence issues✨ so can you do the GoM + Kagami and Teppei thanks my savior

OH, rn i have braces too (although they’re ceramic and harder to see) but I definitely can understand the apprehension when you have them taken off after for so long;; 

the amount of characters requested actually exceed the rules, but since i’ve taken a while to get to your request, i’ll still do them but they will be shorter^^ THANK YOU FOR STICKING BY THIS BLOG AND READING MY STUFF <3

[Headcanons]

Kuroko Tetsuya

right away, he notices that something was amiss with you, and asks upfront if anything was bothering you

you replied hesitantly, but while you talked you held up a hand in front of your mouth:

“Um… I don’t know if I like how I look right now…”

Kuroko stares at your nervous eyes and then looks down to your hand in front of your mouth before asking why

“Just got my braces off, and I feel a bit… weird without them? I feel like I look strange without them…”

“Do you mind if I see you?” he asks, softening his eyes at you

“W-Well… you’re not someone to judge, I know, but don’t… laugh or anything.”

“I won’t, (y/n)-san.”

he slowly brings your hand down and you slowly smile to reveal your teeth to him, and he gives you the purest smile… and that catches you off guard so badly like… YOUR TEETH GOT HIM TO SMILE LIKE THAT??? DAMN, MAYBE YOU SHOULD SMILE EVERY SECOND TO SEE SUCH A TREASURE—

“(y/n)-san, I think you look wonderful,” he muses, bringing your same hand that was in front of your mouth into his own hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure everyone who sees you will think the same.”

ah Kuroko, the individual who has a knack in comforting people with his genuity (example: see Momoi)

whenever you do have those moments of self-consciousness again, he’s always there to calmly reassure you otherwise

Kise Ryouta

IMMEDIATELY sees your teeth when you talk, and freaks out like a little kid on Christmas

“(y/n)-cchi! (y/n)-cchi!!” he hoots around, pointing at his own teeth. “You got your braces off today! You look amazing!”

when you hesitate and tell him that you’re not so sure about yourself without your braces, he pinches your cheek and gives a little dramatic huff

“But (y/n)-cchi…! Come onnnn, trust me!” he says, giving a signature pout, and you laugh at his antics

“Ohhh, do that again! Do that again!” (he craves for your laughs, and he wants more)

he definitely tries to get you to smile and laugh to get you more comfortable with your braceless teeth

whether you have braces or not, he doesn’t mind so much because what he really cares about is your smile, and if he sees your teeth showing, braces or without, it means that he knows he’s doing a good job in making you comfortable and happy

while he showers you in praises every single moment, when you feel really down, he takes an extra measure or two to cuddle you gently while being much softer in delivering those compliments

always gives a daily compliment to give you a serotonin boost

Midorima Shintarou

he’s confused… why would you be upset that you got your braces off? you looked great before and even now, so does the fact of braces really change your perception of your appearance that much?

he won’t make any comment on your new appearance unless you bring it up to him and ask for his opinion/reassurance

he’s just happy for you that you have another milestone of your life, and not to mention, braces generally promote better oral health and fix misaligned bites

“Hm? What do I think of how you look? D-Don’t be ridiculous… What am I supposed to say?”

“Well, I just… think I look a little odd… I kind of… want my braces back.”

“You know you can’t do that, nanodayo,” he sighs. “So much money, effort, and care were invested into your teeth for many years. You did the most you could to take care of them and achieved the goal you set out for yourself when you first got braces, correct? That isn’t something to be ashamed of, nanodayo.”

despite his lecturing, his words do have some merit, and Midorima’s words were comforting in his own way

“But Midorima, um… sorry for annoying you,” you say, giving a chagrined smile

Midorima takes a good look at your exposed teeth for the first time and widens his eyes in a fluster before turning his eyes back to his astrology book

“I-I-It’s nothing.”

bonus: he’s definitely that one fussy parent who forces you to wear your retainers religiously, NO EXCUSES—he doesn’t want the whole process to be all for naught just because you got lazy in wearing a simple metal thing

Aomine Daiki

idiot #1

“Whoa, your teeth look different,” is something he would say tactlessly

immediately, you slapped your hands over your mouth at his words

forgive him, he usually says what’s on his mind with no filter and consideration

by then, he’d realized that the tone of his words was poorly delivered and would try to correct himself before he says anything more to dig himself a deeper grave

“Er, sorry, what I mean is… I didn’t know you were gonna have them off today…”

that actually made you more self-conscious and you try to flee from the scene

“W-Wait, hey!”

insert Aomine clumsily explaining that he didn’t mean to be tactless with his words and that he just meant that he was surprised in a good way

definitely shows you a lot more wholesome affection in addition to his usual PDA, but you wonder what he thought about your new “appearance,” so to speak

“What kinda question is that?” he scoffs. “You’re still hot and always will be.”

if there’s one sure benefit to his blunt words, it’s that his straightforwardness can easily dispel all your doubts and clear up any misunderstandings in one go

if you’re still doubtful about yourself, he’ll gladly resort to action to prove his point… perhaps makeout sessions with him would become a lot more exploratory and… just putting it out there, but we will leave this up to your imagination

anywho, he’s not afraid to give you more direct kisses to try to show you that he doesn’t care about your teeth and your lack of braces

definitely would tell out-of-pocket jokes and laugh more to get you to grow comfortable; after all, smiling is contagious right? who can resist Aomine’s smile???

if someone tried to make you uncomfortable by drawing everyone’s attention nearby in how you got your braces off, whether intentional or not, he’s scaring them away, no questions asked and he’s taking you away from the scene

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Oh…” he says with his usual drawl. “You got them off, Chibi-chin?”

it was a usual day with him tucking his own head into his arms to nap on the table when you walked up to him apprehensively, and he immediately notices your presence but lazily picks up his head to look at you when he noticed

“Er… yeah…”

he slightly tilts his head to the side like an inquisitive child to silently question what was wrong

“It’s nothing really! Just feeling tired… not in the talkative mood today.” as you said this, he noticed that you were more… tight-lipped, speaking in a quieter manner as if you were trying not to show your teeth as much as possible

he beckons a languid hand over and you reluctantly sit by his side, your face still slightly turned away

you thought he was just going to go back to sleep like he always does, but imagine your surprise when he easily picks you up from the side and placed you on his lap, face-to-face

Murasakibara then pulls your cheeks apart, revealing your pearly whites to him

“H-H-Hey!! Lert… gorw!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m… serwious!”

he stares at you impassively for a few moments before he suddenly lets your cheeks go and yawns

“... you look fine, Chibi-chin,” he mumbles, and he sets you off his lap before getting up with a stretch. “Besides, now that you don’t have braces anymore, you can finally eat whatever you want right…?”

“I… guess I can…”

and he’s already reaching for your hand to tug you to the nearest takeout with a slight shine of excitement in his dark pupils

“Chibi-chin, we can finally eat those candy apples together you’ve always craved for, lots and lots…”

he’s very fixated on you eating with your braceless teeth for the next few weeks with a small smile on his face, because you enjoying the food you eat are some of the simplest joys he loves when he’s with you (and you hadn’t been able to do that because your braces forbidden you from eating a list of things)

definitely drags you out for food outings a lot more for the next few weeks

he tries his best in trying to make you not think about your teeth and your self-consciousness about them in his roundabout way (note: see his cheek pulling, distracting you with your favorite snacks, etc.)

he’s not someone to make any deal out of it because worrying over such a trivial thing is annoying to him, but nonetheless he certainly wants to make sure that nothing is bothering you because that’s the greatest inconvenience (since he doesn’t like to see you in such a state)… you being upset and worried makes him upset and worried, after all

Akashi Seijuro

he immediately understands that feeling of self-doubt/self-consciousness, but nonetheless he compliments you to let you know that he truly finds you desirable/beautiful inside and out

still, words alone sometimes don’t convince you and even when he gives physical affection to comfort you, there’s still that nagging feeling of how you felt about your teeth

and he’s totally okay with that, and he knows that feeling very well himself (regarding having inner voices that taunt him)

rather than constantly hammering in compliments because he knows that at some point they’d feel more disingenuous the more he says them, he offers you to help overcome the self-consciousness on your own terms

Akashi offers the suggestion of wearing face masks (not necessarily the surgical ones, but the cute/plain colored masks you’d see around!) if you have certain days where you feel low about your braceless teeth

he’d be quite sly and teasing all the while; whenever you wear your cute mask for the day, he’d be a lot more affectionate with the PDA and give pecks on your lips… but the mask is always in the way, preventing you from feeling actual contact with his own lips

he can tell you’d definitely get pouty when you don’t really feel those kisses and he simply laughs and walks on

“You…! I know you only try to kiss me when I have the mask on! Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Hm? Is it really a crime for me to show physical affection to the person I love?”

he eventually does help you coax you out and become comfortable, and your face masks would eventually be stored away in a drawer

he rewards you for being strong in overcoming your own doubts:

“To celebrate your strength in overcoming a huge milestone, what would you like your reward to be?”

“For starters, give me back all those kisses you tried to give me throughout all the times I wore a mask!”

“Of course,” he chuckles, moving closer to your lips. “How could I ever resist you when you’re this stunning?”

Kagami Taiga

idiot #2 (see idiot #1)

unlike idiot #1, idiot #2 doesn’t notice the change on your teeth, at all

he doesn’t know why you’re fidgeting around or acting really, really strange… were you hungry? upset at him for something he didn’t realize he did wrong?

so after a few days after you got your braces off, he finally asks:

“Is there something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

poor guy doesn’t know if he was at fault or if he was missing something, and he physically holds his head to try to recall EVERYTHING for the past week

you reassure him that it wasn’t anything like that, but you still had furrowed brows and you were very careful in how you were talking

Kagami thinks you haven’t eaten and offers to make dinner, but eating in front of him for some reason really didn’t sound like a good idea to you so you declined

you’ll eventually tell him that you just felt a bit self-conscious after your braces got taken off

“Huh?”

he stares at your teeth for a very long time, and you immediately regret it, not wanting to draw his attention to you like that

he snaps out of his intense daze and immediately apologizes for making you uncomfortable

“M-My bad… I just didn’t notice until you told me.”

“Really?” you ask, slightly relieved that the change wasn’t as drastic as you thought it would be

“Er, yeah…” he mumbles, scratching his cheek, “you look good, by the way…” but by the time he finished his compliment, it came out as a cough

you can only laugh in relief, knowing that everything he says is always earnest and sincere

Kiyoshi Teppei

definitely noticed that your braces were off, but pretends to not notice until you bring it up yourself because he’s quite sharp and in tune with other people’s emotions

so he treats you like he always does, being the sweet “airhead” that he is, and he waits until you bring it up yourself (because he knows how self-conscious you were about your lack of braces)

you yourself are confused… like… was Teppei actually dense? was your whole inner dilemma not a big deal like your mind thought it would be?

you tug on his sleeve one day and ask him if he noticed your teeth, pointing to them all the while

and he immediately chastises himself (“silly me”) for not noticing, and he tells you that you were beautiful either way, and whether you had braces or not didn’t change that inherent fact (and that was his “reason” for not noticing to reassure you)

all while giving his easy going chuckles and ruffling your hair

laughs at your shyness at his words, not because it’s funny or anything but he truly finds you adorable

once you get comfortable without giving a second thought about your braces gone, he just drops the truth bomb on you so casually like:

“Ahhhh (y/n)-san,” he sighs in nostalgia. “You were really cute when you were so shy about getting them off, you know that?”

“Now wait a second…”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

“That you’re really cute.”

“No, no, the other part.”

“Whenever you get shy.”

“That is not what I mean and you know that—”

“Aww, you’re being really cute right now, (y/n)-san. Don’t tempt me to carry you around when I just finished with my physical therapy.”

[sunflovverharry]

Friends with Benefits - Chapter 3

a/n: hiii, sorry it’s been a while since I posted chapter 2, but I’m finally back with chapter 3! It’s a bit shorter, but an important one. will hopefully be writing a lot more now that exams are almost over :)) anyways, enjoy this chapter and please feel free to tell me what you think and reblog <3 pairing: police officer!h + Alex word count: 5k warnings: it’s pretty clear from now there will be language, alcohol consumption, smut and trouble with body image in basically every chapter so from now i’ll only write M (mature)

Seemingly, both Harry and I had gotten what we wanted out of each other. Two breathtaking fucks and the intimate moments after where we cuddled and basked in the afterglow of the sex.

It really wasn’t enough for me though. He was like an addiction and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him. Not that I have a way of contacting him or meeting him except meeting him at the bar again - if we even go at the same time. As he has said; he isn’t one to party a lot nor go clubbing too often. We both spend most of our time at work and it seems like we don’t mind that.

Saying goodbye the Sunday morning two weeks ago I thought it would be the last time we’d meet. Now, standing in the same club as always, staring into Harry’s eyes I couldn’t let the smile grazing my lips go. It was as if all my hopes and dreams were heard when Harry gave back the same smile and made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand up in the air so I could see over the bodies between us. Grabbing my pint of beer, I left the bar and swiftly made my way over to where Harry was sitting. The group I was with had just entered the club and they were still at the bar waiting for their drinks as I didn’t say a word when I walked off.

Harry was seated at the end of a booth close to the corner, his back turned to his mates as I came to stand in between his thighs to be able to hear each other over the loud music blasting over the speakers. I took a drink of the beer before sitting it down next to what I assumed was Harry’s pint.

“Hi, pet. You alright?” Harry placed a soft kiss to my cheek in greeting as he basically screamed into my ear. I leaned away to look at him while giving him a small shake of my head, yeah, I was just fine. He looked smashing in his colourful button-up missing a couple buttons at the top, making me see the top of his butterfly tattoo when I let my eyes gaze down to take him in.

“You celebrating or something?” I took a quick sweep over the rest of the table he was with and there was an expensive bottle of champagne being passed between them. Not the most sanitary or anything, but who was I to judge when I’d definitely done the same when I was drunk. Who exchanged spit and drinks with who, weren’t on the top of our heads when we were drunk and only wanted to get more drunk I guess.

“Nah, the mate who broke it off with his girl some weeks ago dragged us out and he’s making them down everything he buys. I’m driving today though, so only a pint for me. What’re you doing here again?” His hands were dangerously close to the tops of my thighs as they held me close and his thumb pressed patterns in my skin. I was wearing a skirt and a quite revealing top tonight, though not expecting to meet anyone, especially Harry. Maybe in the back of my mind I thought there was a possibility as this is the place we’ve met both times - and now a third.

«Oh, good to see he’s doing alright then. Just here to have a couple pints, didn’t wanna get too drunk or stay out too long tonight. Have quite a lot of paperwork to get through this weekend.» Harry groaned when I mentioned work, not wanting to think about it for tonight I guess. I didn’t really want to think about it either.

«Don’t remind me. I have to go in at six for a couple hours to finish a report, but then I’m off for about a week thank god.» He finished off with a smile thinking about some - I’d say well earned - days off.

«Well then, to celebrate that, how about we go back to yours to have an even better time than we’ll have here?» It was bold of me and I knew it, but that’s how it had been since the first time we met. I took initiative and went in full force and there were absolutely no regrets.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth as he dwelled over what I’d proposed. There was a slight shimmer to his eyes as he moved his head back to get a good look at me. I didn’t mind his eyes travelling over my body, only enjoying how he didn’t hold back from showing me he liked what he saw. It gave me the last bit of confidence I felt I needed being with a man like Harry.

Not giving a verbal answer, he took one last drink of his pint before getting off the leather seat. His hands turned my body around, settling on my hips as he walked us straight past the bar and made our way outside. The parking lot he’d left his car in was on the other side, quickly jogging over the road when no cars were coming.

It was a lovely night, warm and just humid enough to not break out in a sweat. Perfect start of summer weather. His car was nice and looked expensive at first glance. The inside was clean, no dirty napkins or bottles on the floor. He must take good care of it cause most other lads’ cars I’ve been in haven’t been nearly as clean as Harry’s. I gather that he doesn’t want to talk about it when he doesn’t even look at me to see what kind of reaction I had to it.

«You drove here when you could've walked the fifteen minutes? That’s lazy of you, mr. police officer.» I hadn’t used the nickname last time and I missed it. Harry didn’t exactly seem to mind it either as he took in a harsh breath after hearing it. Even more of a boost for me.

«I thought I would have to drive my mates home as they clearly are getting wasted out of their minds.» Of course he was the sensible one of the group, he’s a fucking police officer. Knowing how he cares for his friends and has his life set makes me feel a bit angry at myself. Why did I have to get an obsession over someone I’d never be enough for? «And to be honest, I’m glad it’ll get us home quicker cause I’m already bulging after you calling me that, pet.» I only giggled and looked out the window, not wanting to be caught staring at him.

The car ride went by in silence after that. The quick five minutes were agonizingly slow and I couldn’t stop thinking about getting to feel Harry again. It made my thighs clamp together to try and get some sort of friction to satisfy me.

Having parked the car, both of us jumped out and almost ran to the door wanting nothing more than to get inside and rip our clothes off. God I can’t wait to feel his achingly perfect cock inside me for a third time. I should probably try to forget about him after this time, knowing we’ll stop seeing each other at the club as often during the summer as I’m planning to be gone for most of it anyways.

«I’ve been dreaming of meeting you again. Honestly can’t get you out of my head, pet.» Harry seemed a little hazy as he quietly let the words tumble out of his pretty pink lips I still haven’t got to taste tonight. Good thing it’s only just passed ten and we have all night to enjoy each others taste.

«Shut up and kiss me already.» He closed the short distance between us as he pulled me to him, front against front. His rough grip on my waist made me grow more want for him. Maybe he finally realized after last time that I wanted it rough though I might come off as someone who wants to take control. I don’t mind but god do I like being thrown around at times and Harry did it really fucking well.

My bottom lip was between his in a second, sucked into his mouth and left his lips with a pop. I couldn’t help but already pant at the anticipation and need for him. My lips were slightly open, ready for Harry to slam his lips back on mine and tongue taste the inside of my mouth, licking into it. He didn’t waste a single moment on teasing me or waiting till I couldn’t anymore - dominating the kiss before we even touched lips nevermind tongues.

It made my stomach turn in excitement for the night and lust for the man in front of me. There weren’t any sparks, most likely because we didn't even know each other besides the basics. Well, not even the basics - not even knowing his age. Names and workplace are the only two things we’ve told the other. It felt fucking good having this platonic stranger with benefits. I guess that’s what I would put us as? There were no feelings ruining things or other people's opinions as we were still strangers.

«I want you to cum in my mouth this time.» I barely managed to get the words out of my mouth as Harry was too eager to get his mouth on mine. When he heard what I said though, it was like his eyes got darker and his grip tightened around me showing how much he also wanted that without saying it.

Feeling his tongue get familiar with my mouth again was intoxicating, making me want to make out with him for hours on end. I wouldn’t mind if we dropped sleeping and just moved our lips together until the sun rises.

«You wanna.. upstairs?» Harry was already breathless, either because he knows what he’s getting or because of the kiss. I hummed in response, guiding us to the stairs leading up to his room. If this is going to go how I want it to, I’ll want to be comfortable and though the couch was good, his bed is the best option.

I trusted Harry to be careful and considerate but also push limits which was exactly what was needed tonight. No ‘are you sure’ or ‘i don’t want to hurt you’ talk, just straight to it. No, I wouldn’t get to feel his length inside me - unless he thickens up again right after which I doubt - but maybe before he has to head out. Maybe his fingers will suffice for tonight.

«You’re going to fuck my mouth, officer, and I’m gonna take it like the good girl I am.» There was no point in not being direct from the start, teasing unnecessary and unwanted from both sides. He looked like I told his biggest dream was coming true as he bit his lip and rolled his eyes back as he tried to collect himself for a moment. My fingers danced over his neck and shoulders before tugging his shirt over his head.

«Lay down. Head this way, pet.» The pet name he had called me since we first met had grown increasingly on me and I couldn’t imagine being called anything else. Following his orders I got on the bed, facing him, head almost dangling off the bed. It was risky to let him take control over my airways, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

There was no doubt he was hard and ready to burst if he just got a little lick to his slit, but there is also no doubt he’ll hold out for as long as he can. Leaning down, he slotted our lips together in a more than messy kiss that was hard to navigate as we were upside down. His hands caressed my cheeks before moving to pull my top down, letting my tits spill out on top. I knew he liked them and since depriving himself for longer than needed last time, he was making up for it this time. Pinching my nipples he got a moan out of me telling him to keep going. I loved when my tits were played with, the sensitivity a great feature.

My fingers trailed down his sides languidly, feeling his abs flex at the sensation. Gripping the front of the trousers he was clad in, I somehow managed to open it up before pulling it down along with his briefs as far as I could. Harry moaned into my mouth as his cock freed from restraint and I got my hands on it only tugging lightly.

Biting my bottom lip he pulled away to make sure I was comfortable where I laid before shuffling the few centimeters closer so his tip rested on my lips. I was excited to taste him again and to feel his impressive length down my throat. It being something I don’t usually do unless I trust the person or really want to.

He left it to me to take him in and start licking and sucking him deeper into my mouth which I gladly did. Starting with a kitten lick to his slit he groaned and twisted my nipple between his fingers at the feeling of finally being touched where he needed it. I closed my lips around his tip focusing on sucking it and licking around it, but knowing he’s sensitive already I put my hands on his hips trying to get him to move closer. Feeling the welcome weight on my tongue as his cock drove deeper into my mouth, stopping at the start of my throat, I sucked and bobbed my head only slightly as it was hard to move in my position. Not yet knowing exactly what he likes in terms of blowjobs, I listened for sounds he’d let out or if he rutted his hips more at something I did.

«Fuck that’s it.» He murmured before letting out the loudest moan I’ve heard as I helped him go deeper, reaching down my throat. I liked the sensation, knowing I - or Harry - could control something so dangerous as my breathing.

Harry began thrusting his hips more, guiding his cock himself down my throat, keeping still for a second before letting me breath and doing it again. I removed my hands from his hips, wanting him to take full control and let them lay flat on the bed. It was intoxication listening to him pleasure himself with my mouth, only making me wetter by each groan.

«Shit- oh god!» It was as if he was losing his sense to keep himself at bay, the feeling of being down my throat too good. I didn’t mind, loving the fact that he felt comfortable enough to completely be himself for me.

Harry fucking my mouth was intense, the feeling of him pushing his cock as far down my throat as possible, cutting my airways for seconds at a time made me dizzy and want to succumb to every need of his right this moment. I loved laying there, taking everything he gave me without the ability to stop him except if I really needed to of course.

There was no need to stop though. He knew exactly when it was enough and pulled out and when I could take more.

«Agh.. Your mouth feels so fucking good Alex-» It was like he didn’t quite know how to express himself, too far gone in his own head. «I’m gonna cum.. Mmh, you want it down your throat, pet?» Even when he was gone he still called me pet and I reveled in it. It made me smile around him, but quickly going back to shutting my lips around him as he was back to only putting the tip in. I sucked and licked at his slit wanting him to get his release. It didn’t take much before he was shooting ropes after ropes down my throat, moaning as he filled up my mouth with his cum.

I’m sure I had tear streaks down from my eyes to my temples, but to be honest I hadn’t paid attention to anything except Harry’s cock in my mouth for the entire time. I enjoyed it just as much as he did.

«Fucking hell, pet.» Harry’s slowly softening length slipped out between my lips and I opened my mouth to show him his work before swallowing all of it. He groaned at the sight and bent over to catch my lips for a sweet kiss mustering up the little energy he had left before falling on the bed right beside me.

Laying next to each other trying to catch our breaths, Harry’s fingers delicately trailed up and down my thigh laying next to his torso. It felt nice to have the cuddly, cute aftercare I so badly craved for with every other lad who only wanted me gone after emptying inside me. Which is mostly the reason I began only letting them cum on my tits or arse. It was a fair deal I thought, seeing as a lot of them didn’t even get me off.

His chest was still somewhat heaving, begging for more air when I sat up dizzy from the blood coming to my head and not regaining my breath completely either. His eyes opened to see if I was going anywhere. I was still fully clothed, only my tits hanging out next to a naked Harry who seemed to have kicked his pants off all the way. His cock laid slack against his thigh, tired from the intense orgasm.

«Did you enjoy that?» I don’t know why I felt like asking this time. My confidence was always up when I was with him and it sounded and felt like he really liked what I was doing. My tits were red with his marks and I hadn’t felt a thing being too busy reveling in Harry. He could get it with me anytime he liked and I would comply and do exactly what he wanted.

«Did I enjoy that?» He chuckled and moved to hold his weight up on his elbows. «That was unreal. I was so fucking gone in my own head I didn’t even think about you. Are you okay, Alex?» Course he cared for how I was feeling, it was like second nature for Harry to care about the people around him. Probably the reason why he became an officer.

«Yeah, I really liked that.» I hadn’t even been close to reaching an orgasm from that alone, but damn it if I hadn’t enjoyed myself more than with any other lad - who I’ve never even let fuck my face like that.

«Do you wanna sit on my face? Honestly don’t know if I can move right now.» He was good to look at so I let my eyes wander, his tattoos shining along with the rest of his skin with a light layer of sweat. I shook my head no, telling him I was good for now.

«I might wake you up tonight if I can’t sleep though.» Winking at him as I got out of bed fixing my tits before going downstairs to get a bottle of water. My throat was rough and the aftertaste of his cum wasn’t that nice any longer.

Bringing a bottle of water up for Harry to drink, I jogged up the stairs only wanting to fall asleep as soon as possible. Not getting much sleep during the last month has gotten to me and the one weekend I have off I want to make up for some of it.

«Is it alright if I sleep here?» Again, don’t know why I felt the need to ask Harry if I could stay the night when I’d done it the last two times.

«I was kinda hoping you’d stay and I could return the favor when I get back from work in the morning? I’ll be done by nine at the latest.» Harry didn’t look like he was scared of getting rejected, almost talking as if it was the most normal question. Maybe he recognized there was something up with me and was trying to act as normal as possible for me to relax again.

«Mm, I think I can do that.» Harry smiled from where he was still laying, telling me to ‘come here’. I didn’t object and fell straight into his arms with a quiet sigh. His hands grasped my body tightly to his, fingers going up and down my spine. «Think I’m gonna fall asleep in a few seconds if you continue doing that.» It felt incredible having someone dote on you without any pressure or hidden feelings behind it.

«Let’s get up and get ready for bed then, yeah?» I nodded and reluctantly removed myself from his arms pulling him up with me.

Standing in the bathroom brushing our teeth together felt oddly relaxing. A thing normally viewed as intimate between a man and woman when they’re sleeping together at least. There had been intimacy between us since our first night together I feel, so we might’ve gotten used to it - not thinking about how this isn’t normal for people who only have sex.

Deciding to push the thought to the back of my mind, I got undressed to my underwear before jumping under the covers waiting for Harry to get in behind me and pull me close.

— Morning after

I wasn’t aware of my surroundings as I was still asleep and only barely waking up when I felt the unforgettable feeling of someone going down on me. Slowly opening my eyes as I let go of the moan I couldn’t even try to hold back, I saw the duvet was still covering my body, one leg sticking out while my right knee was sticking up under the duvet.

It was undeniably the best wake up call I’d had in years. Maybe even since the morning of my fifth birthday which was twenty years ago. Lifting my arms to lay above my head, my hips started moving along Harry’s tongue wanting to get as much pleasure as I could out of it. Since when were men this good at eating a woman out?

He smiled against my clit as I continued to sound my pleasure and circle my hips against his mouth, obviously liking how much I enjoy what he was doing. And I sure did enjoy it, a smile finding its way on my face as well before more sounds took over and I couldn’t find the energy to moan through a smile.

His tongue flicked my clit once, twice before sucking it between his lips, tongue still flicking. It was warm and wet when he released it going down my slit, pushing his tongue in me. I don’t understand where Harry learned how to eat someone out when literally no other man even knew where my clit was. His arm hooked around my thigh moved down so his thumb could circle my clit, pressing into it at times to get more heavy breaths from me.

I didn’t last long, Harry going at it like he was starving, reaching my first high this morning from oral with a soundless moan. My hips didn’t stop grinding into his lips and he didn’t let up until I moved my hand to push him away. I was sensitive and not quite awake yet as I came down from an orgasm I couldn’t compare to anything else.

Harry came up from under the blankets, fitting himself between my still open legs. Seeing the smile on his face, chin and lips glistening with my release on them, made me pucker my lips together wanting to taste myself on him.

«Mm..» Harry moaned into the kiss, his body fully leaning down on mine, barely holding his weight up as I took most of it. It felt nice - his warm body encompassing mine fully.

Keeping him close we spent the morning in bed, kissing and ultimately slipping him in when he spooned me. The position being intimate and sensual, but the morning stillness and tired bodies made it the best way to get off in this moment.

After rolling around in bed for an hour, enjoying another orgasm or two, our hungry stomachs made us get out and make our way to his kitchen. The sun was shining through the windows making the room light and the slightly warmer wind blowing through the open french door made it so the shirt I had put on was just enough to not get cold.

Sitting down on one of the dining chairs I watched him move around in his kitchen making us french toast for breakfast. The clock had just passed ten and I was planning on going straight back to bed when I got home then hopefully finishing up my paperwork. I needed the sleep or I don’t think I’ll function the week coming up.

«I wanted to talk to you about something.» We had been sitting in silence as we ate the toast until Harry’s words broke the comfortable silence. I nodded and moved my eyes to connect with his showing him I’m all ears.

«We’ve had sex a few times now and first of all I want to make sure we’re not giving each other anything. I know I’m not sleeping with anyone else.» I understood where he came from. We don’t know what the other does when we’re not together and because we’re not using a condom we could easily bring an STD into the picture.

«I told you I haven’t been with anyone but you the last year, so I’m clean. Even went to the clinic last week.» It was a necessary conversation, but telling him I’d been checked after we’d slept together was a little awkward.

«Good. I’m clean too, checked on tuesday.» Harry nodded, but didn’t seem done with the conversation. To prepare himself for the second part of the conversation, he took a bite of his toast before swallowing it down with some water.

«I wanted to ask you one more thing. It’s absolutely fine if you say no, but know I’m one hundred percent up for it.» He looked me in the eyes as I waited for him to ask what I had a feeling he would.

«Would you wanna make this a regular thing? Exchanging phone numbers and meeting up whenever we want a release instead of not knowing if we’ll ever see each other again? I think we’re pretty compatible in bed and I’ve had a better time with you than any old fling I’ve ever had.» He was laying our options on the table, suggesting we become friends with benefits. It had crossed my mind, knowing I wouldn’t object to having a benefit relationship with him. Honestly think it’ll be more beneficial for me and I never thought he’d bring it up.

«I’d be up for that, yeah. Not to make things awkward but you’re a pretty decent lad with a more than satisfying member to be fair. Would be stupid to turn you down - anyone would.» My cheek grew hotter as I spoke, a tint of red covering them I’m sure as I’m clearly not as bold and confident when we’re not in bed or drunk.

Harry only smiled at me as I basically confirmed our new relationship - friends with benefits. It’s been five weeks and too many wet dreams since I met him and knowing I can have him almost whenever I want - and when he wants - is just perfect. If I can give him half as much pleasure as he gives me I’ll be a happy lady, but I will aim to give him mind blowing orgasms every time.

«Didn’t think you’d be up for this sort of deal with the whole police thing.» Looking up from my plate as I ate the last bite of my delicious toast, Harry squinted his eyes at me.

«And why’d you think that?» He didn’t sound irritated or confused but intrigued to know what was going on in my head. Putting my trust in him and being honest is a huge part of us - I think at least - so I washed away all anxiety and worry. Not that he made me have a reason to be anxious around him.

«Just thought you’d be a bit proper and all. Guess that went out the window - along with my knickers - the first time we met, huh?» Snickering at the memory of him throwing my knickers out his window, Harry joined in also thinking back to five weeks ago. Being able to have banter with him is good, makes things less serious as it should be between friends with benefits - I think at least.

“What are you saying then? Wanna give me your number, pet?” Harry looked at me with the happiest smile on his face; there is no way I’m letting neither of us down by denying us having regular hookups. I’d be causing myself pain to not let him fuck me as much as he wants.

“Happily. One tiny condition though, we always meet here cause I have a roommate and I want to keep this between us. Not because I’m ashamed, but because she likes to meddle in my business and it’ll be easier if she doesn’t have proof of anything.” Harry agrees, not wanting anyone else talking about our - not quite so normal - relationship.

It was easy being myself with Harry, he made me feel safe and relaxed. There was no need to keep my guards up around him though we’ve not known each other for long. Not that it mattered much, there were people who got married after only a couple months of knowing each other - which we most definitely will not do.

[mcwriting]

His Mobius

Lol y'all gonna hate me for this one but what can I say, I'm obsessed with this ship and slightly disappointed in the season finale.

Not my normal jam so sorry to those who only follow me for T. Holland content

Picks up where ep 6 leaves off. Don't read if you don't wanna get spoiled lol.

Ship: Loki vs. Mobius M. Mobius (one-sided)

Word Count: 1212

Warnings: it's sad boi hours in here y'all prepare to have your heart ripped out for a second; also spoilers

⏰

The color had drained from Loki's face as he realized what was going on when he stared at the giant statue of He Who Remains.

With the intense branching of timelines, Sylvie had kicked him into a random, newly-born universe.

He turned back to the man he knew-

No. He didn't know this man.

This was Mobius. M. Mobius, but not his Mobius. M. Mobius.

"I... I- I- I need a tempad, please," Loki begged the not-his-Mobius.

"Don't you have one? Wait- I'm sorry, who are you again? You never answered my question," not-Mobius said with growing suspicion.

He didn't know this Loki, or seem to know any Lokis at all, but he still knew to question guys who came up asking frantic questions and requesting other agents' tempads.

Loki didn't know how to answer.

For once he wanted to tell the truth, but there was no way he'd be able to explain things to this not-Mobius. He didn't have time. He needed to find his Mobius.

With a swift glance, he located not-Mobuis's tempad and with even swifter precision snatched it from the man.

"Hey wait!" he cried, but it was too late.

Loki had already punched in random numbers and opened a portal, stepping through into the unknown.

⏰

The yellow rectangle behind Loki closed as soon as he stepped through, and he knew that with all the chaos, he probably wouldn't ever be found.

As he got his bearings, Loki started to register the sights and sounds around him, along with the humid heat that made his already sweaty skin feel even stickier.

He blinked a couple times before realizing what he was looking at.

Somewhat.

He was in a rainforest.

"Midgard. This- I'm on earth," he muttered to himself, brows furrowed.

Back before the TVA, he'd spent years plotting his takeover of the planet. The Asgardian libraries had contained books filled with knowledge about earth's nature and climate systems, something he'd used to his advantage when planning where he wanted to rule from.

While he didn't know a thing about earth customs or technology, Loki could easily tell the difference between a chimpanzee and a capuchin, or explain how hibiscus flowers were great in tea.

The real question was when is he?

Loki looked at his tempad.

Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica. 2015.

It made sense. Loki remembered that the country was known for its lush landscapes.

There was no telling what universe he was in. He wondered if he could find someone to fill in in the 3 years since the battle of New York, if that had even happened in this timeline.

He took a look around. The foliage was bright green, and he spotted a toucan on a nearby branch. There was the occasional scream of a howler monkey echoing through the trees.

A few feet away, just past a few trees, was a dirt path. Signs that people had walked this trail many times.

Of course, a worry popped into the back of Loki's head that claimed a hungry jaguar had paced there as it looked for a meal, trampling the grass in search of prey.

His fears were quelled, however, when he heard faint voices nearing.

He stepped behind a wide tree and watched carefully as a man in a neon shirt led a family down the trail.

Loki spotted 5 kids, who all looked between the ages of 8 and 18. Interspersed among them were 4 adults who looked to be in their 40s or 50s.

At the back of the pack walked two older men. A shorter guy with snow white hair who looked to be in his 70s, and a taller one whose hair was very much salt-and-peppered, likely in his 60s.

The brightly-clothed guide was explaining to them all of the wonderful things Costa Rica had to offer, from its diverse flora and fauna to the beaches, mountains, and rainforests.

Loki was about to pop out from the wood and ask if this family could explain what the avengers were up to, or if they even existed at all here. He knew he would look ridiculous with his torn up TVA clothes but didn't care.

Finding Mobius was more important.

Before he could call out a greeting, he stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold.

That voice.

He knew that voice anywhere.

The shorter old guy had cut in to make a joke to his family.

"I need to know where to get a jet ski around here."

Mobius.

That was him, but what was he doing here?

Loki felt weird seeing what it would have looked like for his Mobius to live on earth up to this point, assuming that the TVA variants of him had been plucked from the mid-1990s.

"Daaaad," one of the middle aged women groaned.

He has a daughter. Are those his grandchildren?

"You know we brought you on vacation to get you away from your jet ski, right dad?" another of the middle-agers said, a man who looked to be the youngest in his generation group.

A son as well?

"I'll have you know that the jet ski was the greatest invention of our time, of all history, even!" old-Mobius explained light-heartedly.

The taller man next to him placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I think we can manage a week without, my dear."

Loki gasped.

That was him speaking to old-Mobius. Well, not him, but an old version of him.

It didn't make sense.

Loki was well over 1000 years old. An Asgardian diety. A jotun.

He wouldn't just age like that. Not unless he sacrificed something to do so.

Loki couldn't help but notice, though, that while old-Loki's face was considerably wrinklier than his own, the man he looked at was void of worry lines around his eyes and forehead.

He looked genuinely happy.

Loki shifted as best he could to stay hidden behind the tree as he watched what played out ahead of him.

"Oh, alright, alright. I guess I can manage going without ole Lightning for the week if it means I've got y'all to entertain me. But just know that I'm taking everyone out on the lake as soon as we get back to Texas."

Old-Mobius, or whatever his midgardian name really was, smiled at his old-Loki, placing an hand over his lower back.

"I think that can be arranged," old-Loki agreed, quickly pressing a kiss to old-Mobius's temple as he wrapped an arm over the shorter man's shoulders.

Loki didn't even realize that there were tears sliding down his cheeks until the pang in his heart made him turn away from the happy family.

Because it wasn't just Mobius's family, it was his.

He didn't know how the two had found each other, how this Loki had somehow evaded godhood to live a domestic, midgardian life.

Loki couldn't stay here. He couldn't disturb and be caught by them.

He needed to find his Mobius, maybe figure out how to start a life like that.

It wouldn't be easy, jumping through the multiverse searching for that hard-headed, sarcastic, witty, crazy TVA analyst Loki had somehow fallen for, but he had to try.

So with the coast clear, he reset the tempad and stepped through another portal.

For his Mobius.

⏰

A/N: my heart is going to explode. Why did I feel the need to torture myself in this way? Anyways, I wrote it, so y'all gotta read it.

I don't make the rules.

Let me know what you thought! I love and hate this simultaneously so I'd love some feedback. Thanks for reading!!

Once again, sorry for those who follow me for Tom Holland stuff but I really wanted to write this!

If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please message or send an ask so I can verify that you've been added!

Not tagging my permanent tag list since this isn't my normal content!

[haztory]

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (2)

-chapter two: the story of us; warnings for this chapter include a brief discussion and mentioning of sexual assault. it is not described in detail nor does it happen to anyone in this fic. i will not ever be using sexual assault as a plot device as i think that’s unnecessary. however, because it is prevalent in female culture, or at least the discussion of it is, it is briefly mentioned.

if this makes anyone uncomfortable, please skip over! i will not be offended at all! 

-summary:  His eyes are a sea of green that you can't seem to stop drowning in.

a/n: this chapter is a doozy yall, im so sorry. this is mainly to serve as complete exposition of reader and iwa, so it’s hella long. i had an original idea of how i wanted this to go and then i started writing and this happened. lmfao. thank you all for being patient and loving and your comments are so wonderful! i had midterms all last week and all i could think about was writing this! so thank you all and i hope you all enjoy! next chapter will be pure chaos and fun!

i was listening to “cloud 9″ by beach bunny for this chapter! so that might help you understand how i see reader and iwa <33

(w.c.: 8,662 words)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

You’re ten years old when you meet Iwaizumi Hajime for the first time. 

He’s an inch shorter than you, skinny, hair set in an unorganized mess of spikes, and he smells of sweat. It’s the least enticing first impression you’ve ever encountered, wondering briefly if this is what all of Miyagi Prefecture has to offer.

Because if so, you’re not looking forward to it.

He’s blocking the entrance to the neighborhood park with his bike, back facing towards you and an arm stretched outward-pointing at something across the park. The same park that your mother has forced you to attend, kicking you out of your new home filled with moving boxes, a warm smile on her face and a simple request to “go have fun”.  

A request that was starting to seem like more of a problem than you anticipated. 

You’re halted in front of the gates to the area for a solid minute, the boy in front of you being less than aware of your presence as he continues to shout from across the park.

“Grab all of them, Oikawa!” 

There’s another boy roughly the same age holding several items that look to be action figures close to his chest. His face is scrunched up and his shoulders slouched as he takes exaggerated sluggish steps while crossing the courtyard. He’s sweaty too, just like the boy in front of you.

“But there’s so many, Iwaaa. Can’t you help me?” 

“You’re such a baby, Oikawa.” 

The one named Oikawa is about to respond when he stops his movements altogether. He merely points his finger, eyes fixated on something behind his black-haired friend.

You realize a bit too late that he’s pointing at you.

The friend, Iwa as he was called, turns his head with a questioning hum, green eyes meeting yours. A sea of emerald. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice high in timber and flooded in awkwardness, raising his hand in a shy greeting, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you respond in equal awkwardness, the kind that only a new kid can embody. Uneasiness has been settled into your bones ever since the move was announced, and now, as you stand before two physical embodiments of your displacement in this area, the feeling seems to sink even deeper into your stomach. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry ‘bout that.” He begins a cumbersome shuffle of pushing the bike he was sitting on backward, small grunts escaping his mouth as he tries to make space for you to enter. It’s a slow process, considering he teeters from side to side and struggles to smoothly retreat from the space. Oikawa snickers in the background, some teasing words being aired that you are too far to hear, but they must be irking enough considering Iwa mutters a “shut up, idiot” in response.

The friendship is formidable, you don’t need to know them for long to see that. Envy and all its bitter acid coat your tongue.

“Are you the one that just moved in?” Oikawa speaks up.

You nod.

“How old are you? Are you going to Kitagawa Elementary? Have you already—”

Iwa interrupts the ferociously excited boy with a gentle scoff, “Calm down, Oikawa. Give her some air. Geez.”

“I just want to know more about the new girl, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, well you’re doing it wrong.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and clutches the toys in his arms tighter, “You do it then!”

“Do what?”

“Introduce us! Make friends!”

“I think you blew it already.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. If she’s going to the same place as us, she might as well join us! What do you say, new girl?”

You’re shaken from the brief exclusion of the conversation— realizing they’re including you this time—  when Iwa tears his eyes away from his friend and meets yours once again. Upon connection with the emeralds, your throat constricts your throat and the relief of ease washes over. The hesitancy that was bubbling in your stomach starts to dissipate when he looks at you— almost comforted by his dark yet steady stare— but the sense is quickly replaced by something else that shakes you. Your skin prickles, like fire ants marching up the pattern of your skin, and your palms start to sweat despite the cooling temperatures and the light breeze blowing against your skin. 

You’d have to tell your mom about this, just to make sure you weren’t getting sick.

“Would you like to join us?” Iwa asks. There’s no trace of a smile on his face but the invitation isn’t lacking in warmth. It’s a subtle kind, almost imperceptible if it weren’t for the look of curiosity residing upon his features. He speaks gently, like there wasn’t a distance between you two and another person listening in on the conversation, pointing his question and attention solely at you. There was a center of his gravitational pull and it was in your direction.

He’s waiting for your answer, and not the kind that results after courteously asking someone a question; You can tell he is really waiting, wanting to know what you say because his eyes hold onto yours in a way that is much more mature than a boy at the tender age of ten should be looking at someone.  

He’s sincere. He doesn’t even know you and yet he waits upon you as though your response were one he was to weigh considerably with his agenda. He’s a stranger, only said two things directly to you, and yet you feel weightless in the most minute of his attention. 

The rocks of anxiety that were sitting heavily in your stomach for the past month have disappeared and the answer that he waits so intensely for comes rather naturally. It’s the surest you’ve felt in a while. You don't know them at all, aren't even sure if you'll like them, but what would you be other than a fool to not follow the path of certain safety laid out in front of you, disguised as a black-haired boy with the spiky hair? How can you be sure unless you don't see for yourself?

“Yeah,” you sigh out, burdensome weight lifting off your shoulders at the answer, “Can I?”

“Yeah. You can.” He affirms with a nod, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Oikawa, rather befittingly, shouts a cheer, resuming his incessant chatter in throwing an onslaught of questions your way but you’re not listening. Pulled elsewhere you find your gaze being drawn back to the calm and steady boy, with the sea of emerald in his eyes.

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, by the way. And that’s Oikawa Tooru.”

“I’m (Y/N).” 

“Cool.”

You spend the whole day with them, quickly finding a natural place in their relationship, serving as the happy in-between of the flamboyant nature of Oikawa and the pillar of stone that is Iwaizumi. It’s fun, the most fun you’ve had in the entirety of your move that you find yourself trying to make some kind of excuse to extend the day when the sun starts to set. 

But Oikawa has to go home, and so does Iwa, and the disappointment is more than apparent on your face. There’s the unmistakable promise of seeing one another again, that of which was affirmed when Oikawa held out his pinky for you to take and solidify the statement on.

“I can walk you home if you want.” Iwaizumi tells you after you both wave your goodbyes to the other brunet. It’s a godsend, a miracle from the heavens who heard your building plight and decided to spare your jilted mind with some form of comfort. 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you tell him, purely as a formality. Your mother’s lessons of never burdening others kicking into gear at his offer, but you plead, secretly in the deep recesses of your brain that he disagrees. Hope desperately that he’ll take the initiative and stay with you just a moment longer. 

He shakes his head, bearing a toothy smile that is missing one of his canines. “I don’t mind. My mom always tells me to make sure girls get home safe.”

Calm, steady, comforting. You selfishly agree before you have half a mind to say otherwise, “Okay. I live this way.”

And as he trails beside you, holding his bike in his hands as he walks at the pace you set, telling you the details about his favorite monster movie, you find yourself incredibly enamored with the short, sweaty boy that hates green tea and loves summertime.

And not for the first time.

You’re thirteen when you realize that you have a terribly, horribly, deeply incessant crush on Iwaizumi Hajime. 

It’s lunchtime and while you’re usually quick to eat with the resident bickering duo of Sendai, they’ve ditched you for volleyball practice— and not for the first time. So you sit with your other group of close friends, the ones you made through the conventional school setting, and not because they impulsively adopted you into their routine. They’re the necessary and equal balance to the growing testosterone you religiously spend your weekends with, so ultimately you’re not too upset at being left behind for a sport. 

Besides, it’s nice to be surrounded by girls who talk about normal things instead of sweaty violent boys that only talk about volleyball and occasionally the things you like.

Mai, a girl with a short bob that frames her round face, shakes the table with her loud laughter, the curtain of her hair swaying in tune to her joyful movement. She was the first friend you made in this group, and easily the one you’re closest to. The complete opposite of Hajime if her unabashed, frantic excitement is anything to go by. But much like the spaces in this Miyagi heart of yours that’s dedicated to Tooru and Hajime, there’s one for her too. She grabs onto one of your arms and holds it tightly, seeking stability as her melodic laughter rings through your table. 

It’s hard not to laugh alongside her. 

“Please!” She begs Yua, a blonde girl in the year above you, and wipes her eyes free from the laughter-induced tears, “No more! I’m gonna pee!”

Yua huffs, shrugging her shoulders to say that Mai’s inability to hold her urine was beyond her control, “I’m serious! That’s how I found out Kaito had a crush on me!”

“And what did you do?” You ask, laughter lacing your own words at the tale Yua expertly weaved, describing in excruciating detail how Kaito from your third period wrote a love letter comparing Yua’s lips to that of a whale as if that was somehow a compliment.

“I ran away! What else was I supposed to do?!”

Mai howls with laughter, her body being thrown against yours and her arms flailing with the movements, unable to contain herself. You’re almost identical, finding that you follow Mai’s gesticulation in perfect countering. Where she pushes you left, you move in sync, allowing her to lean her weight on you as you both lose yourself in the story.

For as much seriousness as she tries to implement in her words, the quirking of her lips betray Yua, “Laugh all you want, but wait ‘til this happens to you! Then you’ll get it!”

“I don’t think Mai and I have to worry about that,” you tell her, the remainder of your laughter dying out of your words. Mai snaps upward, her body no longer slumped against yours, and instead of facing you with furrowed brows and an offended expression.

The two friends speak simultaneously, one with indignation and the other with confusion “Why not?”

The pointedness of the question makes it seem as though your words were wrong, a misstep in a direction that you have to apologize for. Regardless of whether or not you know why. “Uh, ‘cause no one likes us like that?”

Mai scoffs, crossing her arms and tilting her nose upwards, “Speak for yourself.”

“Sorry, no one likes me like that. So I don’t have to worry.” You say with a smile punctuating the statement with a scoop of rice into your mouth. It wasn’t a statement meant to be considered deeply, it was a simple fact. There were hardly any thirteen-year-olds looking your way, and even if there were, it wasn’t like your attention was focused on them either. All the boys in school were either too annoying or too stupid.

Except for Hajime. He was the only tolerable one. Oikawa fell into the “too annoying” category. But you still loved him—sometimes.

Yua and Mai share a glance, a fleeting look before they look back at you, “You’re joking, right?”

You look up from your food to meet their furrowed stares, “What?”

They share another glance, Mai answering Yua’s silent question with a shrug of her shoulders. You’re completely left in the dark. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Okay, so what if,” Yua begins, the familiar teasing lilt that you’ve widely associated with the blonde returning, stressing on the ‘if’, “someone did like you. What would you do?”

They both look at you with waggling eyebrows, like they’ve cornered you into the exact hypothetical they want you to be in. While this isn’t necessarily an unfamiliar place to be in, it is a weird one, considering you and boys have never really been the topic of conversation unless Iwa and Oikawa were somehow brought up. But your friendship with them was well known and not exactly hidden at all. It wasn’t sensational, nor was it the topic of gossip. Neither was the fact that you aren’t exactly the kind of girl the boys of Kitagawa First were looking at if they were even looking at girls.

“But no one likes me like that.”

“Answer the question.”

You gesture in exasperation, “I don’t know! I’m not really into anyone like that, so I guess I’d say no?”

The two girls pause again, sharing another look. 

“Okay, can you two stop that?”

Mai speaks up this time, almost disbelieving, “You really don’t like anyone?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Yua sings, “Not even Iwaizumiii?”

The chopsticks that you held deftly in your hands go limp and a straight shot of shock runs down your spine. Time stands still in this cramped cafeteria and it feels like your head has been dunked into a bucket of cold water, halting the train of thought and highlighting every possible exit in this building.

The red lights of panic have turned on in your brain and they’re screaming at you to run.

“I— I don’t— what are you guys talking about?” 

Your two best friends, who now resemble Satan’s assistants more than anything remotely positive to you, share their third unspoken glance, and you’re about to lose it. 

“So,” Yua starts again, tearing her sly eyes from Mai’s excited ones, “You do like him?”

Code red. Abandon ship. Abort. R-U-N.

“No! He— I— We’re just friends!” 

“Oh my god!” Mai slams her hands on the surface of the table, her brown eyes boring into your widened ones as she leans over to invade your personal space and poke your chest.

“You like him!”

The brain that is usually so quick with an excuse, trained to be sharp-witted and smart from years of intense teasing from Tooru and Hajime, suddenly feels like mush in your head. Ooey, gooey mush that can’t come up with anything but stuttering, “N-No” at the idea of having some romantic inclination towards Hajime. The best friend you hang out with every weekend; The boy that always walks you home and always makes sure your comments are heard; The spiky-haired idiot with a sea of emerald in his eyes that you always seem to drown in.

But, that’s not— that doesn’t mean— No. 

You don’t like Hajime like that. He’s just a really really good friend. That you enjoy spending time with. That makes you feel comfortable with just a single look. The friend that you always want around, regardless of the kind of day. Yeah. That’s it. 

Hajime is just that kind of person.

Yua gives an unconvinced hum and taps her bright pink nails on the table surface, “When you think about another girl liking him, do you get jealous?” 

Mai backs up from your face to give a wide smile at the blonde, pointing at her wickedly and almost shouting, “Ooh! Good question!”

“Thanks, I read it in my sister’s magazine.”

Mai turns back, almost touching your nose with hers, “Well? Do you?”

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue as an instinctual defense against this personal interrogation, but it doesn’t come out. Partly because of the mush of your brain but also because you know any denial of that question just simply isn’t true; Because when Saran followed Hajime around all day in grade six, you distinctly remember being in a foul mood for a while.

A mood that could only be fixed when Hajime indirectly affirmed that he did not like her.

Oh god.

You like Hajime.

You like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and the stupid way he teases you and the stupid way he makes you feel.

Your friends laugh in your face for a solid minute while you hang your head in your hands, certain that your life was completely over with the new revelation. Yua is the instigator, teasing you relentlessly over the silent confession while Mai asserts that this is the beginning of a fairytale. 

She says it with such conviction that you’re almost inclined to believe her until reason kicks in, and the shamefulness of the situation kicks in. You push it down, fine with keeping the acknowledgment exactly where it is, right under your thumb. That is until Oikawa finds out about it and then suddenly, it’s no longer in your control.

You’re fourteen when he corners you after school. He’s walking you home, taking Hajime’s usual role when said boy and subject of your plight had to stay home with the sick. 

You don’t think he’s going to bring it up, hardly aware he even knows about it, but he does making you choke on your spit and trip over a crack in the sidewalk. He clutches his stomach in a guffaw. 

“Did you really think you could hide it from me?” Tooru teases, his finger poking at your heated cheek that you quickly swat away. 

“I’m not hiding anything, Tooru,” you mutter, keeping your head turned downwards. If Oikawa even sees a smidgen of embarrassment he would never let you live it down.

“Oh, please. You’re so easy to read, especially when Iwa-chan is around. You’re all, ‘oh Iwa, you’re so smart and funny. I want to be with you forever. Mwah, mwah, mwah!’” His hands are interwoven beside his head and he attempts a poor, high-pitched imitation of your voice. Again, Oikawa Tooru belongs in the “too annoying” category that most eighth-grade boys find themselves in. 

You lift your left leg, thrusting your shin outward to kick the taller boy in his behind, a move all too familiar. Really, Oikawa should have seen it coming, having had it done to him so often by Iwaizumi. He’s too swept up in the antics of teasing, though, that it surprises him and the pain in his bottom is sharp. His hands cover the stinging area. 

“Ow, (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you get for being stupid.”

“See! You even act him like him!”

You raise your fist upward and he raises his hands in defense, cowering at the threat of more pain, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He lowers his hands, one eye closed and the other peeking from behind his lowering fingers, “Gosh, so violent. I’m only trying to help!”

“I don’t need help.” You grumble.

You continue your trek onward, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and this nightmare of a conversation. But it’s not that simple. There are now three people that have realized the truth of your crush in less than a year— all of which are your closest friends. It’s only a matter of time before the friend above them all realizes it too. 

Worst off, only a matter of time before someone tells him. 

You turn towards Tooru with a speed that has him flinching and thrusting his hands upward for protection again. A yelp echoes around the empty street and was it not for the intensity behind your desperation, you probably would have laughed.

“Tooru.” There’s a rasp in your voice, one that you aren’t exaggerating. It makes Oikawa uncomfortable hearing such a serious depth to your previously annoyed cadence. In his continuously growing height, he stares down at you, fear crumpling his face.

“Don’t say my name like that—”

“You cannot tell Hajime.”

He straightens his posture out, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A brow is raised quizzically, “Isn’t that the whole point of having a crush? So that you can eventually tell that person about it?”

It’s not like you expect him to understand, hell, you don’t even understand it yourself. All you know is that Hajime cannot know about it; There are too many factors, too many problems that can happen. Besides, you’re sure it’s just a tiny crush, one that will go away after a couple of months. 

And even if it didn’t, you still wouldn’t be able to tell him. Because you’ve been best friends for four years now, and if there was anything remotely remarkable about you, you’re sure something would’ve happened already. Because Hajime is strong, decisive, and steady. If he wants something, he goes for it; And if he wanted you, in any capacity like the way you want him, he would’ve said something. 

But he doesn’t because you’re his best friend. Nothing is outstanding about you, nothing that would make you more than just the girl he’s friends with. Nothing that would make you any different from “just one of the guys”.

He would never see you as anything but. 

So, it’s just easier to have Hajime as a friend than to risk it all for a likely rejection. You could swallow the feelings, bury them deep inside of you for the rest of time. It would be significantly easier than never talking to him again because you couldn’t be a big girl and not make things awkward. 

You try to tell Oikawa as much, “It’s— I just— It would be easier if he didn’t know. It’ll go away soon.”

The brunet tilts his head to the side, kind of like a pouty puppy. When he’s not being a teasing butthead, he’s rather gentle with you, considerate of your emotions, and above all, eager to understand.

“Do you want it to go away?”

“Like I said, it would just be easier.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

A quiet settles between the two of you and it feels like it’s oceans wide. You, stranded out at sea in the terrorizing waves of emotions, and he, the lighthouse built on the rocks. Tall and fixed, beckoning you towards his stable ground of reason. It’s a brief reminder that when Oikawa tries, he’s not that annoying. He’s rather kind and empathetic.

“Do you want Hajime to like you?”

The deep cocoa eyes dig into you and the waves crash even more ferociously around you.

Cotton dries up your mouth, and the ache that always pains your heart whenever you think about Hajime returns in full force, “He never will.”

Oikawa huffs out a breath, back becoming imperceptibly straighter while he crosses his arms. It’s hard to imagine him as anything but that sweaty boy you met on the playground, but he stands before you a giant, body filling out from all the volleyball practice and the baby features of his face evening out to become the handsome boy girls were starting to see him as. He radiates his kind of steadiness, one different from Hajime, but equally as comforting.

It’s admirable— he’s admirable— when it's not pinned against you.

“And how do you know?”

“Tooru,” you sigh, exhaustion suddenly creeping up your shoulders along with the overwhelming urge to cry, “Please.”

You don’t feel like explaining all the intricacies of your perceived inadequacy and thank the gods above he’s a good enough friend to know when to stop prying, “Fine, fine. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

You stare up at him, searching his face for any notion of deceit or subterfuge, “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves his hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes in that way that portrays annoyance but the love is there. He understands you, at least. 

You hold out your pinky for him, “Pinky promise?”

“What are we, ten?” 

You hold your finger out further, almost waving it in his face. It’s the staple of trust in your friendship, instituted early on between you and him, and only you and him. He can’t back out now.

He takes it with a sigh of his own, huffing out his breath, and twisting his long, slender finger with yours. You shake his hand in affirmation, letting go only when you feel comfortable in the validity of his promise and resuming your walk home. 

He throws an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you tightly to his body, “Eventually you’re going to have to say something.”

“I know.” 

“I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

“It’s like you want me to hit you again.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe in the future, when you’re more comfortable with the fact that it’s your best friend of all people that gives you butterflies in your stomach, you’ll do something about it. But not right now, not when he spends all his time in volleyball and especially not when you were barely confident in yourself. Or maybe, it’ll go away, and you can look back on this as a funny memory rather than anything serious.

You’re fifteen when you finally accept the circumstances and become resigned to it. Finally understanding that your crush is more than just a crush, but knowing full well that that’s all you can let it be.

Hajime sits on the floor, surrounded by your regular friends plus a couple of others at Oikawa’s birthday party when he says it. You’re not supposed to hear it from your place in the kitchen, but you do and it’s a dagger to both heart and confidence. He’s confirmed everything you knew and quelled any potential rebuttal of thoughts Mai or Tooru have planted in your head. 

You were stupid to think Hajime could ever see you as anything more than the girl he’s just friends with.

Your appetite quickly dissipates and you have to work extra hard to make sure pure despair doesn’t show on your face. Especially when Oikawa hears it too and he makes that face that looks like he wants to give you a hug, which makes everything ten times harder.

A kid named Matsukawa is the one that asks. You don’t blame him. He’s only fifteen, after all, asking what normal fifteen-year-olds normally talk about.

“What about (Y/N)? Would you date her?”

Hajime scoffs, a laugh on his lips as though it were the weirdest question he’s ever heard.

“She’s my best friend. That would be like dating my sister. I don’t like her like that.”

You’re fifteen and you’ve become resigned to it all, because it’s better to have Hajime as a friend, than to never have him at all. Because you would never have him; At least not in the way you want. 

You don’t blame him for that either.

You cry about it later on, after the party is over and after you deny Hajime’s insistence to walk you home. He has a weird look on his face when you tell him you’ll be fine, your house is only a few blocks away. He wants to fight you on it, can see the argument forming it in that storm of green. It’s a shitty feeling to deny him so blatantly, but you really can’t stomach being around him at the moment. Not when your heart pangs longingly for him and your insecurities increase tenfold at the confirmation of your inadequacy.

Not when all of this is happening at once, showing as clear as day on your face, and he sees it. Worst of all, not when he wants to solve it, hardly understanding that he’s the cause of it.

His eyes narrow, staring intently as he studies your features. The scrutiny is uncomfortable and if he does stares a second longer the tears will fall.

“Did… something happen during the party?” Hajime asks hesitantly. There’s a whirlwind of possibilities crossing his mind, all indicating rather unsavory and horrifying ideas that have his worry bubbling beneath his skin. You’re barely meeting his gaze, hands clasped tightly before you and body way too stiff. The complete opposite of your normal demeanor, especially around him.

Usually so open, so vibrant. And here you stand before him, the dark of night surrounding you and the fluorescent glow of the streetlamps casting a ghoulish light on your face, exaggerating your dejected features more prominently. 

He’s heard of worst-case scenarios when girls and boys get together, something mentioned in passing when his mother was on the phone with his aunt. He never really thought much about it, considering he would never do something like that and he doesn’t hang around many girls, to begin with for something like that to be an immediate concern.. 

In this stark contrast of a moment, however, he’s briefly reminded of the fact that he so often tends to forget. You’re a girl; A living, breathing, pretty girl. Everyone likes you, would be fools not to. And while he would never allow himself or anyone else to force themselves upon you, you weren’t with him for the whole party. Disappearing for a brief moment after he saw you enter the kitchen. The idea of something like that— something that horrible— happening to you under his nose has all of his instincts on fight mode, forget the flight. A shattering of the innocence he was so previously impervious to. 

The implication is clear in his voice accompanied with the fear-stricken features, so you can hardly miss what he means. 

“Did— Did anyone…?” His voice cracks and he hurriedly tries to clear it up with the clearing of his throat, but you heard it. It happens often when he’s wrestling with an onslaught of emotions, trying his hardest to remain calm and clear-headed and focused that sometimes his voice just gives out. Also, puberty.

The act doesn’t matter though, not when he’s silently amping himself up to fight someone if you were touched inappropriately. He would win; He’s been in a couple of fights before, usually off school property, he doesn’t mind getting into another one. Not if it was for you. And he would win; Would make sure of that.

The tussle for calm is transparent on his face. Lips struggling to stay in a closed, neutral line rather than the frown he has to hold back. His fists clench, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms to alleviate the growing anger, only to prove futile. He so badly wants to grab you by the shoulders, shake you furiously, ask what the hell is going on because you’re never like this—

He doesn’t. He knows better. Even if the suspense is driving him up the wall and the tension that encapsulates the empty street is thick and choking him. 

Finally, you say something.

“No, Haji,” you say softly, “No one did anything to me.”

It’s what Iwaizumi wants to hear; Should be ecstatic to know that you are physically unharmed, free from the taint that comes with a foreign touch, the one he’s intent to protect you from. Your voice is too quiet though, and the smile you give him is too small for him to feel any modicum of ease. You're lying. Someone did something.

“I’m fine, really!” You try again, amping up the energy to convince him. It falls flat. 

“(Y/N).” That spiky head of hair tips forward, pushing himself in your averting line of sight, refusing to let you hide from him. He’s taller now, finally taller than you. While his hair is still that fluff of mess on his head, his eyes are still that piercing green that can always read you like a book and his favorite season is still summer, only this time he no longer enjoys going to the park, but instead the beach. 

He’s the same Hajime you fell in love with and the remainder is enough to cause a lump swell in your throat.

“What are you hidi—”

“Iwa-chan!”

The familiar melodious voice rings out in the empty street, its owner sauntering his way over to your departing figures. There’s that recognizable air of flowering confidence rolling off of him like a humid heat and the sly shining of his pearly whites that serves as a buffer from the thick air of tension between you and Haj— Iwaizumi.

Just, Iwaizumi. No added affection.

There's magic in Oikawa’s stroll, you’re sure of it. It looks perfectly coincidental, like he just so happened to stumble upon a tense scene, instead of the very much needed and purposeful intervention for his emotionally crushed best friend and worry-fueled other best friend.

And they call him the idiot.

He sighs that flowery breath of his, throwing his arm around Iwa’s shoulders and watching the desperation that filled your gaze wash away with relief at his intrusion. Iwa’s confusion only seems to increase, but truthfully, Oikawa isn’t too concerned with his hard-headed friend. He’s really only keen on getting you out of there— out to safety and away from the source of your heartbreak.

“Iwa-chan, you have to go set up the movie player. I have no idea how to work it.”

“I’ve shown you how to do it four times, Tooru.”

“But it’s so much easier when you do it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk our precious flower home while you set up for our sleepover.”

Iwaizumi hesitates, his eyes bouncing from the self-assured smile of Oikawa to your downturned gaze. There’s something wrong, he knows it. But it’s obviously a secret he isn’t allowed into. 

He won’t pry, he’s never been one to beg for secrets— never been one to want secrets told to him at all. However, there’s a particular sting at knowing that it’s you who’s hiding something and refusing to tell him. That there’s something Oikawa is aware about, that he isn’t allowed to know.

It’s not his business, he surmises. You’re not his business. He swallows that bitter pill, accepting Oikawa’s offer with a brief nod. He’s not happy, that’s plain to see, but he knows better than to insert himself where he’s not wanted.

Calm, steady, comfortable. Iwaizumi will fight for what he wants, but not when it hurts you in the process.

He bids you a brief goodbye, voice tight and rigid, clearly displaying his dissatisfaction but accepting it nonetheless. He doesn’t even look back at you. It’s what you want, you suppose. Some distance from him for your benefit, so you can at least try and forget about how you feel; Save yourself from the devastation of falling even deeper in love with him. 

He enters Oikawa’s house. It’s a place you’ve been many times, slept over on many occasions yet, when Iwaizumi crosses the threshold with a strain on his shoulders and a grimace on his face, you can’t help but wonder if he’s finally going someplace that you can’t follow. If you’ve spent all these years pining over him, wondering if you would ever be enough for him, only to push him away into an area of no return. 

Oikawa doesn’t give you a moment to think long about it before he’s ushering you away from the crime scene where your uncontrollable and childish feelings have brutally injured a fraying friendship and guiding you home. He talks the entire time, about everything and nothing, and you’re rather grateful for the background noise. To finally think about something other than your broken heart and Iwaizumi’s betrayed face. 

He leaves you at your door with the promise that things will get better, that it won’t hurt so much, and that he’s always there for you. He places a sweet kiss on the crown of your head, turning his back with a final wave and leaving you alone with your thoughts. The promise of meeting one another again is unspoken, instinctive. You know deep down, though, it’ll be different from here on out. You’ll have to be more careful, more guarded with the things you say and do.

You wonder if Iwaizumi has as much trouble sleeping that night as you do. 

(He does. He doesn’t sleep at all.)

Things do get better, which is a blessed curse. The tension eventually resolves after a couple of weeks of tiptoeing around each other. Normality returns in full-swing and you’re able to talk to Hajime without the overwhelming feeling of guilt and need to explain everything; If he holds any issues about what happened that night, he doesn’t mention it, following your lead and letting the friendship return to normal.

The problem lies in the fact that Oikawa was ultimately right, and he makes a point to show that he’s right. That things did get better, and the fragmentation of your splintering relationship with the boy you love eventually gets patched up.

Life moves on.

The feelings don’t go away, but you get better at managing them. It’s significantly easier to push the pining down and not think too much about any passing romantic comments in school that pair you and Iwaizumi together; Nor do you think twice about the harmless flirting that occasionally comes your way. You dish it back, continuing the joking nature of the friendship and after a while, it doesn’t hurt so bad. You exit the stages of puberty and things don’t feel as hectic as they once were. 

The turbulent waves of emotions finally die down to a steady roll, and for a while, you’re able to float. It’s safe, peaceful, exactly how you want it to stay. 

That is until you’re seventeen, almost eighteen, and Iwaizumi asks you to be his fake girlfriend. The waves pick up steam and you’re drowning again. You have the girls of Aoba Johsai to thank for that. 

This time though, you’re determined to protect yourself. The anxiety of it all starts to settle in between your shoulders and instead of falling victim to the whims of an unsuspecting Iwaizumi once again, the urge to protect yourself and your pathetic emotions takes precedence. You will not be reduced down to the unconfident, love-sick girl you once were; You’ve worked too hard to do that. You matter more than Iwaizumi’s stupid girl problem.

It’s why you don’t think twice when you blurt it out after agreeing to help.

“We need a contract.”

“A contract?” Hajime parrots back, broad arms crossed over his equally broad chest and the intense training you’ve instilled in yourself to not stare at him meets its limitations, lest you stoop down to the level of the girls he’s so desperate to evade. He’s grown so much, physically and personally, that it's hard to not look at him. You force yourself to glance around the crowded cafe, look anywhere but his veiny arms, and instead replace your view with the small restaurant you two frequent every Monday— the only day he has off from volleyball practice. 

It’s a small establishment that sells teas and noodles, a pleasant find to make one day when the both of you were hungry pre-teens and full of time on your hands. It’s usually rather empty during this time as it’s just out of the line of sight to avoid the after-school rush of students, but today the line extends outside of the door, all attendees eager to have a taste of miso ramen and pushing against bodies to do so. The people behind you are respectful enough to give you as much space as one can afford in the cramped venue, but you end up still having to press yourself into the stiff body of the boy— no, man— beside you. 

You have the decency to look at least a little uncomfortable in the tightness of the situation, but Hajime shows nothing. Whether it’s because he doesn’t even care that your chest is bracing against his arm or he’s too distracted with the complicatedness of his “girl” problem, his face betrays no embarrassment at the closeness. No frustration, no discomfort, not even annoyance. He merely exists, dealing with your body pressed against his as if this were a regular occurrence and not an awkward preemption to the farce that you’ve stupidly agreed to. This would surely haunt you for the rest of your years. 

This man of steel, this monolith of lean, corded muscle, was going to be your “boyfriend” for the next couple of weeks. You would be lucky if this arrangement even lasted for that long considering the confession of pure unadulterated adoration is crawling up the canal of your throat and tearing the fabric of your skin, sticking a middle finger at the rational parts of your brain trying desperately to hold it back. 

Your fate is signed, knowing full and well that in your inability to deny Hajime— especially when he’s so desperate, which is a rarity in and of itself— you’ve willingly agreed to have your dignity and confidence stripped from your person and your feelings thrown in a loop for the sake of his sanity. 

It’s annoying. Every potential hypothetical plays itself in high definition across the theatre of your mind and each one ends with you being brutally rejected once again. There’s no way you could handle something like that again, no matter how much you’ve matured. 

This is a bad idea, and you need to tell him that.

But then the sight of pleading jades enters your vision and you distinctly remember the permanent frown that etched itself on Hajime’s face these past three months. Remember how the feelings of deep discomfort forced him to confide in you on a late-night phone call when sleep evaded him and he detailed the dread he felt at the prospect of going to school the next school day.

If your mouth even opened a fraction to breathe, you’re sure the “I’m in love with you and have been since sixth grade” will come tumbling out, but even the fear of that happening doesn’t overpower the overwhelming desire to help the man you’re madly in love with.

There’s a limit to what would be forsaken in the name of Iwaizumi Hajime’s happiness, but your sanity isn’t it.

The situation worsens when the subtle shifting of the patrons behind you throws you off balance and forces you impossibly closer to him. The shuffling of feet knocks into your own, tilting you off balance despite your leaning against Hajime. A rebuttal is on the tip of your tongue ready to be released in rapid-fire when Hajime beats you to it. 

He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, allowing your unsteady feet to find balance against his lean body of stone, clutching you tightly to his side as if the accidental push against you were a personal offense. 

The protective nature that so often lies dormant in his personality rears its head forward and you swear your heart stops beating altogether. 

“Easy,” he mutters, a layer of strict dismay interweaving in his words as he casts a pointed side glare at the two boys standing behind you. You hardly hear it, much too occupied with trying not to drown in the sudden flooding of his cologne in your nostrils. 

Musk and spice. His usual scent, but even more addicting when it’s this close. 

This is a bad idea. This is a horrible, bad, awful idea. Bad, bad, bad idea.

You have to end this. You won’t survive this. 

“C-contract.” You, somehow, manage to spit out, shaking your head free from the waft of his scent and the strength of his arm across your back. 

Okay, not necessarily ending this but protecting yourself. Yeah, that’s it. Because there is no way you want him to keep acting like this, no. You’re just doing this to help and totally not to selfishly indulge in the delight of being his, even if it is fake. 

He tears his narrowed eyes away from the boys behind you to glance at you, the remnants of disapproval flickering in the sea of green that you swear only evens out when he looks at you, “Right. What’s in this contract?”

“The, uh, basics,” you begin, voice slowly finding its footing after the intense whiplash you just experienced. You're surprised you can even form words that aren’t resembling proclamations of desire, “What we can and can’t do, how long this is for, and so on.”

“That’s a good idea,” He breathes out. The line shifts forward, and the cashier finally enters the field of view. With a quick recoil, as though his skin were burned by the action, he removes his hand from around your waist. The warmth of his arm rescinds with it, and that thirteen-year-old girl that has fantasized for years about this, whines in desperation. You quickly tell her to shut up.

He clears his throat, awkwardness filling the cramped and stale air, “Uh, sorry. About that.”

He avoids your eyes and you quickly look around too, “It’s fine.”

A silence ensues. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, but it’s a far cry from the brief pauses in conversation that usually occur between the two of you. The comfortable silences that occur naturally between friends of five years. You wonder if you should address it, address the fact that if you two were to pull this off— and pull it off well— there were going to be more moments when he was going to have to touch you like that. 

He was going to have to hold your hand and give you frequent hugs and actually act like he was in love with you. Act. 

You swallow at the prospect. Not like that would be hard for you to do, you think rather pitifully.

There are two more couples in front of you when you say, “I’d like to institute the first provision.”

Hajime quirks an eyebrow, his lips lifting upward, an obvious sign of gratefulness at being able to brush over that weird moment of physicality. He doesn’t know why it was instinctual, or why he even thought that placing his hand that low around your waist would be a good idea. But, he did it; And it’s quite the revelation when he realizes he didn’t mind it. 

At all.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He glances at you to his right, the teasing smile gracing your features and the recognizable glint of mischief in your eyes. 

“You have to buy all of the food we eat together.”

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “I already buy all of our food.”

“I always pay you back!”

“You owe me at least three-thousand yen.”

“Okay, an addendum to provision one.”

“Shoot.”

“You buy all of our food and forgive my debts.”

He laughs louder tilting his head back as his teeth peek from his pink lips. It’s the bark of laughter that swells your beating heart with confidence. You may not have him romantically, but there’s no denial of the fact that he likes you in his life, especially when you can make him laugh like that, “I’m starting to think this contract is only beneficial to you.”

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, the body still tucked tightly beside his as feet shuffle forward in the line, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m doing you a huge favor.”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” A silence befalls again, this one not as tense as before. A small smile plays on his lips and there’s a sincerity behind his gaze that reminds you of how appreciative he really is for this. Hajime isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to repay you for stepping in and helping him in the most intimate of ways that you most likely would rather not do. There wasn’t ever an expressed interest in the dating scene from you, always denying the occasional confession that came your way and never thinking twice about the romantic holidays that come and go.

He wonders why because if you tried, you’d have every guy within a ten-foot radius begging for your attention. Surely one of them would be worthy of your love. (He doesn’t agree though. There’s no one in this world who could ever be worthy of you. Not when you smile so brightly and tease so enticingly. No one would ever deserve that part of you. No one that he would ever approve of, anyway..) He’s not dumb in realizing that your willingness to engage in a romantic relationship with him— even if it is a fake one— is a large deviation from the norm. It’s not something to be taken lightly.

So, he owes you. Big time. Whatever you want, whatever you put in this contract, he’ll do. He’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. 

(Fake boyfriend, he has to remind himself. He swallows down the disappointment.)

“Thank you.” he breaks the silence, rubbing the back of his heating neck, “Again. For doing this for me. I don’t—”

“Ah, ah!” You interrupt, holding your hand upwards and wagging a finger at him, “I haven’t done anything yet, so don’t start thanking me so soon. Who knows? I might sabotage this whole thing, be the worst girlfriend you could ever imagine.” 

 The couple in front of you finishes their order, stepping to the side to allow the both of you forward. You step up, dragging him with you but you don’t miss the low throaty chuckle he emits when he says, “You like me too much to do that.”

He pats the top of your head, smoothing the fly-away hairs with a wink and a sly smile, and then, like nothing even happened, he steps up to the counter, taking the initiative and placing your usual orders. There’s both too much nuance and not enough to his statement to determine if you should be scared at his words. Does he know? Did Oikawa tell him?

You don’t even notice when he puts both food items on one bill. 

It’s then that you remember, with little humor like someone who’s forgotten a necessary step to an important project, that while you’ve done a lot of growing and building these past four years to fortify the walls of your heart, so has he. He’s stronger, more confident, more sturdy. 

Fourteen-year-old you built the walls for a fourteen-year-old Iwaizume Hajime. She didn’t even think to consider the damage eighteen-year-old Ace and Vice-Captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team could do. Not with a spike those strong arms could make and a sea of green that you still drown in.

The first large crack in the barriers has been made. 

He turns to face you upon finishing the order, stepping to the side and bracing his body against the far wall of the restaurant to allow the next customers to the counter. That damn sly smile is still on his face, and it’s then you realize that he has to know. He has to know what he’s doing, or at least know that it’s doing something to you.

“So,” he tucks his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants, biceps bulging at the action “tell me about this contract, sweet girlfriend of mine.”

end notes: god damn glad that’s over. what did yall think?? too much? not enough? lemme know! i love reading all of your tags and comments, it fills me with such happiness :))))

tag list: @bruh-kill-me @owlnymph @airybnb @yukiilu-personal @cathwritestragediesnotsins @berna-dette​

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Secrets in a basic form can be harmless, but that does not negate the fact they can be quite deadly too. To withhold information from a loved one is to partake in a gamble, and the odds will not be in the deceitful one’s favour. Outside of the generic risks of entertaining this gamble, there is one that is often overlooked. What many fail to comprehend is that secrets can be weaponized, and once information becomes a weapon – the truth will no longer hold any significance.

Ichika may have fortuitously stumbled onto Osamu’s secret, but he was still to blame. There were various choices available to him that night and he chose not only to lie, but to drag his idiot brother down with him. He was thus caught in a gambler’s debt.

“Okay.” The confirmation fell from your mouth in a whisper, but it was not intended for anyone’s ears other than your own. You were vocalizing affirmation to the unspoken request from the muscle inside of your chest that was afflicted unfair torment. The excessive throbbing would not cease unless you abided by its demands, which first meant drawing the ache inside to the surface.

Connecting the platform of your boots with the ground, the vibrations stretching from the point of impact led Ichika to proceed a cautious step back. The smile stitched across her lips fell into a thin line as you surveyed her, curious to what she would bark out next.  Beside you, Osamu failed to secure even a piece of your attention, something the blonde took pride in. Although, if she had known that the sole reason you chose to ignore his presence was to focus on your primary target, she would not have been so arrogant. 

“Don’t you see, y/n? The person you should be fighting is yourself.” She raised her chin in effort to gloat, yet the little quivers in her voice indicated her confidence was deflating. Maintaining her composure would have been effortlessly completed if there was even a hint of recognizable emotions in your eyes. 

“Okay. Come here, dollar-store Regina George.” A faint smirk twitched at the ends of your mouth as you toyed with the accessory within your grasp, compelling her attention to land upon it. The threads weaved into her mask of smugness were slashed, revealing the fear slathered across her features. However, the terror reigning over her was soon replaced with bemusement as the band was discarded in a frivolous manner. “Hit me.” The artificial annunciation added to the invitation along with your bizarre actions drew a wide range of responses from those within the shop.

Osamu croaked out a protest, though he knew anything spoken would fall on closed ears. Your two best friends on the other hand exchanged worried glances, but they assumed you had some plan in motion. But what concerned them was the possibility that the revelation ruptured your very grip on reality. 

Seated behind them, the father to the deranged child begged to notify the authorities, while Nakamura cowered in the corner, guilt eating away at his conscience. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.”

Your invitation reinvigorated the blonde’s sense of triumph, which led her to lower down her guard. She proceeded closer to you without hesitation then reeled back her hand, before allowing her palm to collide with your face. The impact guided your face to the left side, forcing your gaze to settle onto your two bewildered friends, who were seconds from abandoning their post to join you. Though, when they saw your mouth open to expel a chorus of low laughter, they froze in their tracks.

“You hit softer than my sister.” When you snapped your consideration back to the shorter girl, the action startled her enough to cause a blockage to form in her throat. She blinked up at you quizzically, while pondering whether you were truly a sadist – deriving pleasure from the pain. And there was some truth to that. The location she had oh so kindly assaulted stung, but it was not even remotely close to the ache claiming your entire body. “Is that all you got?”  

“Y/n, please.”  Osamu was preparing to capture you in his embrace, he didn’t care if you hated him or hurt him in the process. It was quite clear that you were seeking to overthrow the emotional pain with a physical one. Something that would not be occurring if he chose to be honest. “You’re angry, so take it out on me. But don’t take it out on yourself.”

“You see the thing is… This is my pain. And you, the person responsible for that pain, don’t get to tell me how to deal with it.” As exhilaration pumped through your veins, humourless laughter sliced against your throat on its journey to your mouth. “Now fucking hit me.”

Ichika stomped on the ground childishly, accompanying the movement with a mixture between a whine and a grunt. How dare you mock her when you were the fool in the situation? What kind of person were you? She was beginning to wonder if you were human at all.

She knew Osamu would intervene if she was not quick enough, and so she did not miss a second once the demand was spat towards her. In applying the second strike she curled her fingers purposefully to drag her manicured nails across your flesh. The additional pressure combined with the edge of her nails was enough to carve a few lines into your cheek, however before she could allow her hand to fall limp, you secured your fingers around her wrist and issued another titter. When her eyes frantically shot to the captured limb, it finally dawned on her that you weren’t the prey – she was.

In a swift motion, you twisted her hand then ushered it to the small of her back, the slightest bit of force would send her shoulder into agony, and so she did not attempt to fight back. Trailing your tongue along your bloodied bottom lip, you pushed her towards the same table she found refuge from minutes prior.

“You… crazy bitch!” The liquid distorting Ichika’s vision glimmered under the crimson lens you adorned. It was quite satisfying.

A heavy breath of air was exhaled as you took a handful of her golden locks, an action that caused her father to yell out various profanities. But upon seeing his daughter’s distress, his curses morphed into begs. He was begging for mercy, something you were not willing to offer. 

“You see now, goldie locks…” To ensure she was listening intently, you tangled your fingers into her curls, forcing her head up to bring her ear to your mouth. “Whatever I do… qualifies as self-defence.”

Shivers surged throughout Ichika’s petite frame at your explanation as she questioned internally how she managed to misread the signs. She studied you based on your social media for days. She thought she knew you. But she was ever so wrong.

“But how… How can you still fight after what I told you?” Tears strained her swollen cheeks, and soon the reality of her loss brought her to wail childishly. “Tell me!” Twitching at the sound produced by the short female, you roughly led her face to the counter to silence her. Mimicking a child’s behaviour? There was something pitiful about that, and you did not doubt that her father was to blame. 

Releasing the arm twisted behind her back, a lengthy sigh was blown out as you massaged your forehead to sooth the stinging sensation tormenting your temples. 

“I’ve met scum like you before...And I bet you thought you had the upper hand.” Another heavy sigh was exhaled as you shook your head is disappointment. “That was your first mistake. Now, listen to me, kiddo. I want you to remember something.” Strengthening your grip on her roots, you forced her head to rise from the table, resulting in a weak squeak from your victim. She trembled pathetically between sniffles as your slow breaths hit her skin. “Osamu could never love someone like you. Fantasize all you want, but if you ever think of breathing in his direction…” A pause was implemented to provide her a few seconds to imagine what would occur, and what she imagined brought her to whimper lowly. “Let’s just say I won’t be leaving you with a simple concussion.”

“Concussion..?”

As she echoed the word in confusion, her face was smashed against the table with as much force you were capable of administering. The sound produced from the action was far more satisfying than any melody played on the radio. If only someone had recorded it. 

Once her body went limp, you untangled your fingers then squinted down at them, admiring the way they curved from the unnatural exertion. The pain within your limbs successfully soothed your heart into a slumber, returning some colour back to your vision as a reward.

With the thrill of victory lacing into your bloodstream, you momentarily turned your empty stare towards your fiancé until another person entered the scene.

“Y/n…?! What the fuck is going on?”  

Let’s do it again, shall we - hit me 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: thanks for joining the party, superman lol. you a bit LATE. anywAY I hope ya’ll know MC is not okay, not even a bit. 

Taglist:  @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa  @iloveanime691 @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle​ @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson​ @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan​ @seikamuzu​ @namyari​ @toaster-stick​ @shakiraisawesome​ @coconut-dreamz​ @roseestuosity​ @prcttylittlcthing​ @uzumakioden​ @nerdynstoned​ @kenmasgameboy​ @unstableye​ @ouijaeater15​ @aquariarose​ @fandomtrashpandasposts​ @helloalex80​ @stfucanunot​ @envyusshades​ @cuddlesslut​ @seijohiseliterambles​

[power-of-plot]

Hey can I request hcs of what a relationship would be like with Mirio and Tamaki and a very tall intimidating reader (gender neutral pls)? So like everyone is pretty scared of reader but they are a sweetheart when you actually talk to them. Thank you :)

I found this so adorable and wholesome, sorry if i took too long!

Gn reader!

Warnings: None.

M I R I O

You must seriously be tall if Mirio, a 181 cm guy, seems small next to you.

Mirio doesn't judge anyone by appearance (unless they're running at him with a fist up that is), he doesn't mind your height at all! He'd actually like it since he there are many posibilities with a s/o taller than him like both being the big spoon and switching, really embracing hugs, etc.

As the natural extroverted and kind person he is, he likely is the one who began the relationship, just like with Tamaki he would have noticed right away you were on your seat sad because you had no one to talk to.

The first kiss is a middle point between adorable and amusing, Mirio didn't want you to bend down so what better idea than phasing through the wall so he was on a head-level, the kiss went smoothly but the real problem..? He didn't have his hero suit on, he was naked. You had to go get his clothes while he was there waiting with his head poking out a wall like a deer sculpture.

He'd love to hold hands with you! And do anything related to them, he would definitely ask you to do a half heart shape with your hand so he can complete it with his and take a picture ♡, the size gap of your hands only make him like the image more to the point he uses it as background on his phone.

He's very comforting when you're introduced to his friends and anyone at all, he notices if you feel uncomfortable because of the stares your height might case but fear not he'll take you somewhere else! Tamaki would look up very slowly as if he's looking at a giraffe's neck looking for it's head while Nejire looks straight up into your eyes "Well nice to meet you! You're the second person taller than Mirio i know, i love it!"

His arm wouldn’t get tired easily while he’s holding an umbrella high enough to cover you as well, you should walk for a long time under the rain for him to ask you to switch and hold it. When you hold the umbrella he gives you the sweetest smile and a -thank you- kiss.

Piggyback rides! Have you seen how muscular he is? It might look like you’re riding a mini pony but who cares, that mini pony could very well run and walk around with you on his back. If you carry him- you’d get him off guard, his cheeks would turn a bright pink color.

T A M A K I

This boi is around 177 cm though he seems shorter thanks to the bent posture he always has, the fact that he always has his head down doesn’t help either. First time he sees you face to face he has to look up completely, he only manages to raise his hand to do a greeting gesture before doing a deep bow and looking away.

Tamaki doesn’t like social interactions too much but that doesn’t mean he runs away from them, all the time. As a hero he interacts with villains, he makes eye contact and attack, he would step in almost with no hesitation when he sees some students walking behind you and saying hurtful things on purpose, from that point on things between you began.

He feels a great empathy towards you when he notices you are treated as the black sheep ironically not for being unnoticed but the complete opposite, he’d put his all of his efforts into making eye contact for more than a few seconds and talk without making you feel like you’re intimidating him for his posture.

Dating you makes him grow considerably, he’d be able to change his posture slightly and look someone into the eyes for longer. His confession likely was on a letter he left on your locker so you could read it on your way to the dorms, when he heard you knocking on his door his soul slipped out of his body for a split second.

Although he isn’t fond of PDA he would do his best by gently holding onto your sleeve while you walk/interwine his pinky with yours or giving you a quick but tight hug. He goes slow and easy with kisses, he would tell you he has a secret so you bend down and boop! kiss on the cheek followed by him turning scarlet red.

He isn’t good with words so he tries to express his affection with small actions like giving you cards with loving phrases! He would be very very chivalrious, it requires actions most of the time, fits perfect to him. 

This is of the sweetest things he’d do. Tamaki would eat all kinds of edible flowers just so he can bloom them on the tips of his fingers or his hands for you to see, his cheeks would be pink already since the beginning as he focuses on his quirk but the moment he hears a giggle or a compliment..the flowers finish blooming abruptly as his face turns red as a rose.

I was watching a video and a comment said Mirio looked like an emoji, i can’t tell whether that was actually funny or i just laugh at any random thing- probably the 2nd one.

[conradscrime]

The Infamous Case of D.B. Cooper

March 14, 2021

This case began on November 24, 1971 when a man who went by the name of Dan Cooper went up to the counter of Northwest Orient Airlines in Portland, Oregon and asked to buy a one-way ticket to Seattle Washington. The man paid for this ticket in cash. The name D.B. Cooper comes from a miscommunication, supposedly the man named himself as Dan but his ticket was printed out as saying D.B. Cooper instead. 

Cooper was very quiet and described as a man in his mid-40′s, wearing a business suit with a black tie and white shirt. While waiting for the plane to take off, the man ordered a bourbon and soda. A little after 3 pm the strange man handed the stewardess, Florence Schaffner, a note which claimed he had a bomb in his briefcase and demanded her to sit down with him. 

The stewardess, needing to remain calm, sat down next to D.B. as he wrote a note for her to take to the captain. He demanded to have 4 parachutes and $200,000 in twenty dollar bills. I think we all know what his threat was if they plane did not meet his demands. 

Knowing that there was 36 passengers on the plane and several crew members, they had no choice but to give the man what he wanted. The flight eventually landed in Seattle and all of the passengers were let off unharmed. D.B. Cooper kept several crew members on the plane with him as they were heading for their next destination, Mexico City. 

A little after 8 pm when the plane was somewhere between Seattle and Reno, the man known as D.B. Cooper jumped out of the back of the plane with a parachute and his ransom money. The pilots landed the plane safely and no one was hurt, but D.B. Cooper was never seen again. 

There have been a lot of suspects over the years of who this older, put together, strange man was. One of the most popular suspects was a man who went by the name of Richard Floyd McCoy. He came to be a suspect because he attempted to hijack a plane in similar fashion to D.B. Cooper a few months later on April 7, 1972. He demanded four parachutes and $500,000. McCoy was arrested but eventually let go because he did not match the identical descriptions two of the flight attendants gave. 

What is such a mysterious about this case is that we have a fairly accurate and good description of D.B. Cooper because the stewardess that sat and talked to him had spent a considerable amount of time with him and had gotten a good look at his face and features. 

D.B. Cooper is suspected to have possibly been an Air Force veteran at some point because he was quite familiar with the Seattle area and even recognized the city of Tacoma while the plane was still in motion. Others also believe he used the alias Dan Cooper name after a fictional hero in a Belgian comic books series. The fictional Dan Cooper was a test pilot who had numerous heroic adventures even ones that involved parachuting. 

Others believe D.B. Cooper did not actually survive the jump. Most think this because he wasn’t wearing proper clothing or footwear for a jump of that extent, as well as he would of been jumping out of the plane in a dark and wooded area, which would be even difficult for an expert which most believe he was not. 

Another well known suspect is a man named Kenneth Peter Christiansen, after his brother Lyle Christiansen watched a documentary on the D.B. Cooper case in 2003. Lyle was convinced that his brother was Cooper for multiple reasons. Kenneth Christiansen enlisted in the army in 1944 and was a trained paratrooper. He also joined the Northwest Orient in 1954 working as a mechanic, a flight attendant and then a purser based in Seattle. He would of been 45 years old at the time of the hijacking, matching the supposed age of D.B. Cooper but he was shorter, thinner and lighter than the description given. Christiansen also smoked and preferred bourbon like Cooper. Florence Schaffner, the stewardess who spent a lot of time with Cooper said that Kenneth Christiansen matched the description more than any of the other suspects she had seen, though she could not 100% identify him as being Cooper.

Here is where things get really creepy. Kenneth Christiansen had purchased a house in cash a few months after the hijacking took place and when he was dying of cancer in 1994 he told his brother Lyle that there was something he should know, but that he couldn’t tell him what it was. Lyle said he never pressed his brother for more information. After Kenneth died his family found several news clippings of Northwest Orient news that started around the time he was hired in the 1950′s and stopped right before the hijacking took place in 1971. Kenneth worked for the airline part-time for several years after 1971 though he supposedly never saved another paper clipping. 

So now it’s time to debunk some findings. Apparently, according to the Wikipedia page (which isn’t the greatest source ever I know), some web sleuths actually discovered that Kenneth Christiansen never bought a house with cash after the hijacking, he had a mortgage on a house and took 17 years to pay it off. Kenneth’s family also claimed they found around $200,000 in accounts after his death, though sleuths found that he had actually sold 2 dozen acres of land for large amounts of money which would explain why he had so much money on him in the mid 1990′s around the time of his death. However, this is just from a source I found, I have not looked into these debunking theories.

Another suspect goes by the name of Lynn Doyle Cooper, or L.D. Cooper. Born in 1931, he was a leather worker and Korean War veteran. In 2011 his niece Marla Cooper proposed he was a potential suspect. Marla was a child at the time but she remembers her uncle and another uncle planning something “mischievous” involving the use of walkie talkies at her grandmother’s house in Sisters, Oregon on November 23, 1971. The next day the plane hijacking took place and thought L.D. Cooper was supposedly turkey hunting that day he came home wearing a bloody shirt and said he had been in an auto accident. Marla claims both her parents suspected L.D. of being D.B. Cooper and she also said her uncle was obsessed with the comic book hero Dan Cooper mentioned previously. L.D. Cooper would’ve matched the age D.B. Cooper was described as but he died in 1999 taking whatever secrets he had with him. The FBI added his DNA to the system to see if it was a match from the unknown DNA they had from D.B. Cooper’s tie, but it did not match though this doesn’t mean he wasn’t the mysterious hijacker. 

There are so many more interesting suspects with lots of evidence suggesting they very well could be D.B. Cooper, I might make a second post strictly discussing some other interesting suspects. 

In February 1980 almost 9 years after the original hijacking when a young boy named Brian Ingram found a wad of twenty dollar bills, $5,800 in total, along the banks of the Columbia River and the serial number on the bills matched the serial number of the bills given to D.B. Cooper. However, I personally think (and kind of hope) he survived because no body has ever been found. I am kind of rooting for this guy because this story sounds so unreal.

In 2017 a group of volunteer investigators found what appeared to be an old parachute strap in the Pacific Northwest. In August 2017 a piece of foam that was suspected to be part of D.B. Cooper’s backpack was found. 

FBI agents recovered 66 unidentified fingerprints aboard the plane as well as finding Cooper’s black clip on tie, his tie clip and two of the four parachutes, one being opened. 

The FBI officially suspended the active investigation in July 2016, almost 45 years after the hijacking, however they ask if anyone has any physical evidence that might emerge to submit it for analysis. All of the evidence is open to the public.

The mystery of D.B. Cooper is the only unsolved case of air piracy in commercial aviation history. Unless someone confesses on their death bed, I say the identity of D.B. Cooper will remain unsolved. The likelihood of someone confessing to this on their deathbed is unlikely though because if the man was in his mid-40′s in 1971 he would be in his 90′s now if he is still alive. 

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Face Heel Turn || Morgan & Ben

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @professorbcampbell & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Ben face an unpleasant problem on campus and make a run for their lives.

(art credit @professorbcampbell)

With a sigh, Ben removed his glasses and slipped them into the soft travel case that he then tucked away into his attache case. Meetings. While he was sure that many of his colleagues despised such events, Ben had always thrived in them. There was nothing quite like watching the interdepartmental politics at work and he enjoyed giving the invisible strings that wrapped around his peers a gentle nudge from time to time. One of the other professors approached him, asking if he wanted to go for drinks with the others. “Ah, no thank you,” He said with a polite shake of his head, “I was hoping to talk to David- chair duties and all.” Ben gave a regretful smile before stepping to the side. To his great annoyance, Ben caught sight of David making a quick exit from the room, escaping one Morgan Beck. Of course it was her. She was the mousy looking thorn in his otherwise pristine working life. “Morgan!” He said with a hearty smile, “Wonderful to see you.”

Morgan didn’t need to have real magic to work her will. Lots of pagans didn’t have a mainline to the universe and did just fine. She could too. She could. And if her will was getting a real contract with real responsibilities, something worthy of settling into for a few years, maybe until she stopped being able to convince people about her age, then she would take any opportunity the universe presented to her to make it happen. Sometimes that opportunity was cornering the dean of the liberal arts and social sciences college after a meeting.

Unfortunately, the dean wasn��t having any of it.

“Not now,” he mumbled, sliding past her.

“I just noticed three deceased faculty from my department in the obituaries, sir, and rather than waste university resources looking across the country, it be to everyone’s credit to promote from within and--”

“Not now, girl.” He shook his head. “Building codes.”

It took Morgan several seconds to process what she’d heard, and another to decide that, no, she was not going to respond politely. But that time was more than enough for the dean to get away. Worse, it was time enough for Ben Campbell to get in her way. She fought herself not to sneer openly at him. “Hi, Ben,” she managed, her cheer thin and shrill. “Great seminar today, right? Just love those PD review sessions. Keeps it fresh!” She shouldered him out of her way, scampering out the room and toward the dean’s office as she said, “Woops! So sorry, Ben. But I really need to catch David for something.” And maybe consider reversing her new policy on violence. “So sorry! Tootles!” Surely, she thought, Ben would hate her enough to not try and follow.

It had been amusing, at the very least, to see the Dean completely brush of Beck. Ben didn’t let any emotion show on his face, pretending instead to be focused on trying to see where David went. But on the inside, he couldn’t help the smug, triumphant gloating wash over him. Served her right, for getting ideas beyond her position. She should keep her nose down, like any good adjunct would. Work hard, don’t bother people who clearly couldn’t give a shit about you, and make relationships. And the only relationships she’d made, as far as Ben could tell, were negative ones. Pathetic. “Oh yes, PD review, absolutely riveting.” He said with a good natured nod. Grunting as she shouldered him with more force than he would have expected out of such a tiny woman, Ben’s eyes followed her as she headed for the door. “Ah, you’re trying to talk to David as well? Wonderful, so am I. Co-chair duties. Quite a lot of work, but at the end of the day, it’s all worth it.” Ben said with a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What,” Exactly, “are you asking him about?”

Politeness kept Morgan from sprinting down the hall to the dean’s office, but determination kept her pace brisk and steady. “Oh, co-chair duties, of course. I bet you have lots to discuss and get approved. But so much of our paperwork is digital, right? I’m sure David would appreciate it so much more if you sent him a solid email with bullet points.” She walked a little faster. “I just need a few minutes with him alone to make a proposal for the english department. Plans for next semester, staffing, the usual problems this university seems to be facing. I’m sure you’ve got a hot date or somewhere else you’d rather be.” She skidded to the door and grabbed the handle. “But it was so nice running into you!” If she said it loud enough, he’d get the idea and leave, right?

Eyes narrowing as Morgan moved past him, Ben sucked in a breath and forced his face into a smile. Walking after her, his own long strides more than keeping up with her shorter ones, Ben shook his head. “I wish it was so simple. We’re meeting about recruitment for the prospective graduate students to the college. I need to hammer out some of the finer details with him that an email simply wouldn’t cover.” He said with a long suffering sigh. As Morgan explained what she was going after, Ben’s eyebrow arched. What exactly was Bitchy Beck up to? Staffing… they’d had quite a few deaths in the department-- nothing related to him, of course. But there had been some unexpected openings. With a laugh, Ben shook his head, “No dates for me, I’m a bit too busy for that.” As she pulled open the door, he followed quickly behind her. There was no way he was letting Morgan monopolize David’s time. “I’m sure Dave can pencil both of us in.”

“Aw, no someone special?” Morgan said, barely bothering to put on a guise of sympathy on her words. “That’s so sad. You should really do something about that, Ben. I mean, unless you’re aro in which case, friend dates are still a thing! In a place like this, you could die alone tomorrow.” And sometimes she wished he would. “And that would just be kinda sad and tragic, right?” She twisted the handle and swung open the door onto the dean, or who she thought was the dean, fumbling to open the window, not realizing it was sealed. This would have been enough to make her freeze in the doorway on its own, but by the desk, another dean writhed on the floor and clawed at the smooth fleshy plane that was once his face. The secretary was next to him, the skin around her sealed, lipless mouth already turning blue.

“Uh…” Morgan edged back until she stepped on Ben’s toes.

The dean who was not the dean whipped his head around to look at them. He opened his mouth.

The corner of his lips quirking with barely concealed irritation, Ben hurried after the woman. How could such a tiny thing be so quick? “No, no, not aromantic. Or asexual. I’m a very average American man, just with a busier than average work schedule. But, I might try to see someone, who knows.” He said, remembering that the Nichol’s woman had mentioned knowing Beck when she’d dropped by for that post lecture disaster. Just as he was about to mention that he was very interested in getting to know Erin better and, oh, did she happen to know her? What a coincidence, what a wonderful coincidence indeed--Morgan had already pulled open the door to the dean’s office without even the slightest decency to knock. And he was startled to see a pair of bodies writhing on the floor, their faces smooth, fleshy masks.

“Good Lord!” Ben swore, raising his arms instinctively to defend himself as the decidedly not-dean stood and screamed at them. The human lips split like seams and Ben could have sworn he saw circular rows of teeth lining the thing’s throat as it bellowed. His hands clasped over his ears at the harsh shriek and he stumbled backwards, not in fear but in pain. He’d seen demons do far worse than this, he’d done far worse than this himself. But, he was only human, after all. And without a weapon at his disposal, he could hardly do anything to protect himself. And, as irritating as Beck was, it wouldn’t do to explain how she’d been murdered as well. “Let’s get out of here!” He said, grabbing her by the shoulder and tugging her to the door as the dean moved with jerky, alien movements across the office towards them.

Several things happened at once before Morgan’s eyes: a very bright dangerous-looking something spewed out of Not-the-dean’s mouth and landed on the door next to her head, Ben pulled her away, and her confusion and panic erupted into a scream. She didn’t fight Ben. Not-the-dean had leapt to an open chair, landing on all fours and his toothy, four lipped mouth spread open again.

She started to run with Ben, but from the galloping thumps behind them, she could tell it was gaining. “Fucking fuck,” she hissed. She pulled back on Ben’s arm and made a sharp turn down the nearest hall. “You’re too slow!” Then again, so were her pumps. Morgan stopped long enough to kick them off, which so happened to be enough time for Not-the-dean to come bounding down the hall. He stopped just shy of the turn Morgan made and swiveled his head.

“If I carry you, are you gonna be a baby about it?” She asked.

The dean leapt for them, apparently determined. No time to find out. “Hold on tight, spider monkey,” she said. Then she swept her arm under his legs and went off with him.

The way the imposter’s face opened into a disgusting, peeling-apart mouth was enough to convince Ben that they needed to go post-haste, immediately, now. Scrambling out of the room, he sprinted down the hallway as quickly as he could and was startled to see Morgan was keeping pace with him? What? How could she possibly do that-- he wasn’t that old. But this tiny little thing was running alongside him, barely even winded from the effort. Turning an unexpectedly tight corner, the combination of his momentum and his considerable frame had him smacking into the side of the wall. Meanwhile, he could hear the loping sound of the creature echoing behind them.

“Carry me? I’m nearly 200--” Ben started but before he could finish his sentence, Morgan had already grabbed hold of him and was lifting him off the ground. And then, she began to run. Instinctively, Ben clung to her shoulders tightly, not wanting to fall off the woman’s thin frame. Gritting his teeth in irritation, he muttered, “Twilight? Really?” under his breath as Morgan sprinted his way through the hallways. As thoroughly emasculating as it was, to be packmuled out of danger by Beck of all people, there was a silver lining. Morgan had revealed herself to him. She was distinctly not human-- what breed of that, he had no idea-- but she was… unfortunately, a part of the true world.

Morgan managed to laugh wryly as she ran. “Got a problem with that, Bella?” Just a few more feet. It would be easier out in the open, right? Not-the-Dean thundered behind them, galloping the way no person should be able to. The air hissed, and Morgan heard something sizzling on her back and bubbling splatter on the wall beside her.

“Was that acid?” She wasn’t sure why she was alarmed. It wouldn’t do anything to her that couldn’t immediately be undone. But who liked getting acid thrown at them anyway? And there was still Ben in her arms, even if wiping away his face might be an improvement to his character. “Maybe duck your head!” They were almost out the hall. “And brace for impact!” If he was so tough, he shouldn’t mind her blasting through the double doors. Once outside they could split up, or double back and have it lose their trail that way.

Morgan barreled through the doors and into the purple evening, still running, until she crashed into the bike rack and fell over, dropping Ben and sprawling onto the ground.

“Yes.” Ben grunted emphatically, as he was jostled on the woman’s back rather roughly as they ran through the corridors. What the ever loving fuck was happening? What the hell was Morgan? Definitively not human, not human in the slightest. Unless she was moonlighting as some kind of bodybuilder or pro wrestler or something, but that seemed doubtful. But, he couldn’t dwell on this for very long as something hot, wet, and bubbling splashed against the wall next to them. Chancing a glance over, his face went pale as he saw bits of exposed concrete peeking through spots where acid had already begun to chew through the structure.

“Acid. Yes, yes, that was acid-- run faster, Beck!” He yelled, holding on tightly to the small woman’s shoulders. Twisting his head, he watched as the thing behind them was still hot in pursuit, barrelling after them on all fours. “What?” He asked, before turning back just in time to duck, though the crossbar of the door still caught the back of his head. He was seeing stars as Morgan barrelled out into the quad and spilled out on the ground when she slammed into the bike rack. Stunned, barely able to see, and head splitting with pain, Ben blindly scrambled backwards, wanting to put as much distance between him and the creature as possible.

For one terrible second, Morgan stayed on the ground. Too fast and she might be seen, identified for what she was, or else frighten Ben into telling enough people about her that she found herself hunted in her office one day. Too slow and it wouldn’t matter because Not-the-Dean and his acid was going to eat her. Ben was already moving beside her, getting up and far the fuck away. That was as good enough of a cue as any. Morgan jumped to her feet and kept running, past Ben and toward the nearest building. As she passed him she called, “You’re welcome! Don’t die!” Then she kept running, into the music building, then architecture, in and out praying that just this once the universe would bend her way and that she hadn’t been seen and she wasn’t a good enough target to be worth pursuing anyway. When she finally made it inside her car, she let herself take a beat and scan the horizon for signs of...whatever the hell she’d just seen. But it could look like anything, couldn’t it? One of the teenagers ambling toward the parking lot, the janitor pushing their cart into the next building, the MBAs strolling out in their suits. And she hadn’t even looked back, had she? Was Ben still alive? And what about the students, playing frisbee in the sunset and coming in for their late night classes and-- Morgan let her head hit the steering wheel and sighed. Too late to tie up loose ends now. She needed to go home, be grateful, and not think too hard about how bad she didn’t feel about Ben Campbell maybe losing his face.

Blinking the spots from his vision, Ben picked himself up to run from the creature that was still pursuing them-- him, he realized. Because as he was turning to dash away, he watched as Morgan scrambled past him, shouting such incredibly insightful advice as she left. Bitchy fucking Beck was going to leave him to die-- or worse, have his face ripped off and masqueraded around on some disgusting creature. “Lord!” He swore as he ran across the quad, his tie whipping behind him as he sprinted away. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yanking open the nearest building’s door, he fumbled to pull his lanyard from his pocket, his staff keycard in hand. The top floors here were barred to relevant staff and he had access, he could go up there. Running towards the staircase, Ben chanced a glance behind him and saw that the creature had shoved open the doors of the building. A fresh spray of acid was shot his direction and he let out a yelp before slipping into the staircase.

Taking the steps three at a time, Ben hurried up the spiraling staircase and waved his keycard frantically at the heavy metal door. Green lights flashed over the electronic lock and he threw himself inside, slamming the door behind him. Sore, tired, and breathing hard, Ben slumped against the door and listened for the creature. He could hear it tearing through the stairwell, screeching and raging as it ran. But, it didn’t seem to know where he was. And he was fine with that. As the monster’s screeches faded, Ben was at last able to relax and reflect on just what exactly had happened. His mind was putting together all the pieces, forming a very hazy, very concerning picture.

About three things, Ben was absolutely positive. First, Morgan wasn’t human. Second, there was a part of her, and he wasn’t sure how large this part of her was, that was fine with him being dead. And third, he unconditionally, irrevocably hated her.

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden

Totally self indulgent Merlin Fic.

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

"It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow."

or

A very angsty fic where the Knights find an injured girl in the forest and take her home to heal. Queer fluff with Gwen ensues.

2.5k words.

Masterlist or Read it on AO3

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

Chapter 1:

It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow.

Merlin set to work immediately: pulling fabric bandages from his satchel along with honey and other such ointments to stop the bleeding and prevent infection growing in her shredded forearms. The King and his knights could do nothing but watch, shock drawn on their faces. They had seen blood and death before, but so rarely had they seen someone that had attempted to take their own life.

It was Lancelot that discovered the reason for her considerable sweating and pale face. Wolfsbane. Merlin opened her mouth and found her tongue swollen, further confirming the theory. He leant her forward and, after warning the party to turn around, made her empty the contents of her stomach.

Finally content that he had done all he could, Merlin approached panic mode. He left Lancelot and Elayn with the girl (Percival had left to refill the waterskins and Gwaine had had a ghostly look in his eyes since the discovery and so was left alone) and began pacing.

“We need to get back to Gaius. I can’t look after her on my own.”

“I’m no physician but she doesn’t seem fit to ride, not yet.” His King replied, doing his best to assure him.

“But what if I’ve missed something? I hardly noticed she had been—she had poisoned herself, that was all Lancelot’s doing!”.

“Consider yourself lucky that there are so many of us to help you then.”

“But—”

“You have been training with Gaius for almost a half-decade now, I trust your skills totally. It’s okay Merlin, she will be okay no matter what happens.” Arthur carelessly tacked on the last part, hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice how dark it sounded. He had seen a few of his knights return from their first battle and end up in a similar state and knew too well that most were content with dying if no one could do anything to save them.

“Now, how about you get your mind off this and make us some dinner, eh?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, nudging past. As much as he refused to admit it, he was glad Arthur had given him a distraction, even if it were preparing a stew that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until everyone else had been served first.

--

As night fell and the fire grew smaller, Gwaine’s mind ran a thousand leagues a minute. It had been years since he had last thought of what that girl had done – around the time he had met Merlin, actually – and yet, after seeing her in that state for only a few seconds, it was all he could think about. All he could see as he closed his eyes. He longed to help her as he needed help all those years ago, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk (the others had made comments about how marvellous that was and he wonders, if only for a moment, if they would say the same had they known what was going on in his head.) He could barely breath, only able to let out fast, short breaths. He felt helpless.

As a Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gwaine did not like feeling ‘helpless’. He was strongly opposed to it, in fact.

It was only after Arthur awoke to take next watch that his brain began to slow (or had it sped up so fast that it felt like it had stopped?) and he began to feel tired. After some prompting by Princess, he lay on his roll mat and let sleep take over.

--

As the morning fog lifted, Merlin checked over his work once again. He removed her bandages, careful not to let it pull on her skin, and cleaned the last of the blood off. He envied Gaius’ ability to treat a patient without being upset for them – working with tears in his eyes was making the task far more difficult than it should have.

After wrapping her up once again, he declared them free to take her back to Camelot. He state hadn’t worsened overnight which was reassuring, but she hadn’t much improved either, so he thought it best for his mentor to give her a look over too. He had only dealt with poisoning a few times (and at least one of those times he had been the one poisoned) and so was not as confident in his abilities as his friends seemed to be. It was nice that they had faith in him, but he worried it was misplaced this time.

With Percy’s help, they manoeuvred the girl onto Lancelot’s horse. He had volunteered to take her so Merlin could attend to Arthur, who Lancelot had noticed was missing the young man. He had watched their relationship grow for a few years now and, despite not knowing really knowing what was going on between them, he was glad his friend had someone to be with.

Upon Arthurs command, the troop began moving. Gwaine rode at the back and Arthur and Merlin took the lead. Percival and Elyan rode next to each other, leaving Lancelot to his thoughts of the girl leaning against his chest. She was a young woman really, looking to have maybe 23 summers, but she looked so youthful that he couldn’t be sure. Her hair was braided with red fabric woven in and a few strands framed her face. She had striking black eyebrows and he was curious of her eye colour. He hoped that she would open her eyes again – the idea of someone so young trying to take their own life left him feeling cold.

He, like the rest of them, he was sure, had occasionally thought of doing as she had. Maybe not thoughts they would take forward, but ideations none the less. They had seen such horrible things throughout their travels, things that kept them up at night, things that made them want to stop thinking forever. It often led to a week at The Rising Sun, but sometimes that didn’t work.

He shivered, trying to banish those thoughts.

A part of him wondered what led her to sitting at the bottom of that tree. What could drive a young woman to consume Wolfsbane and mark her skin in such a way. He had noticed scars on her arms as Merlin wrapped her: either she had been in many, many fights before, or she had done something like this before. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

--

Elyan and Percival were concerned. They tended to worry most days, caught up in making sure everyone was okay, but this hunting trip had not been a normal one. It had begun as usual: Merlin sneezing, coughing and stumbling each time anyone went to take a shot at some poor animal, and Arthur having a go at him for it (though everyone knew he wasn’t really angry), and then, after Gwaine finally got a lucky hit on a doe, Merlin found the woman. The light mood soured immediately, doe left on the muddy floor. Everyone went into Knight-Mode, as Elyan liked to think of it. Knight-Mode was when all casual personality faded, and they became formal protectors. Swords were usually drawn but there was no need this time – the woman didn’t look like she would be going for her blade anytime soon. Regardless, Percival kept the blade in his possession just in case.

And now, as they rode slowly towards Camelot, the pair were worrying about the silence. They loved Gwaine – he was great, really – but he had amassed a reputation of not shutting the hell up, particularly on long rides. And yet now, on a trip that would likely take two days, he was silent. Now that he thinks about it, Elyan doesn’t recall Gwaine saying more than a sentence since they had stumbled upon the woman.

On the one hand, it was refreshing being able to listen to the birds and the creek of the trees. On the other, it concerned him. Percival wasn’t much better, turning his head back every few feet to see if there was any change on Gwaine’s blank face. It looked like a part of him was missing, the light behind his eyes seemed to have disappeared. Hopefully, Percival thought briefly, he would be back to his usual blabbering self once they had returned home. Maybe some mead would do the trick. Although he would never say it aloud, the gentle giant quite enjoyed his small friends’ stories. He found they made long trips feel a lot shorter – especially when they were returning from a grave event such as this one.

“Do you have a drink we could give him?” Percival whispered to Elyan, hoping to at least cheer Gwaine up a little before they got back.

“I have water, but I fear that won’t suffice.”

“No, something much stronger seems needed. You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?

The smaller man shook his head, looking grim. The subject of their concern didn’t seem to notice their concerned glances despite their distinct lack of subtlety.

No closer to finding a solution, the pair looked ahead, and continued riding.

--

Arthur had been riding horses since he was 3. He was good at it, great, even, but right now, all he could think about was how much his arse hurt. Turning to his left, he could tell Merlin was on the same train of thought (about his own arse, Arthur doubted his friend thought about his Kings arse unless it was about the trousers that they agreed never to talk about again). After mulling it over for longer than was needed, he raised his hand to warn the others they would be resting for a while. He knew there was a good stream nearby and intended to lead them there first.

‘Intended’ because, before he could lean his horse towards where he was reasonably sure the stream was, Lancelot called out for Merlin. It seemed their guest was waking up.

Merlin quickly hopped off his saddle, barely keeping his legs from buckling after being sat still for so long, and made his way to Lancelot and Percival, the latter of which had also dismounted. They carefully lifted the girl from Lancelot’s horse and sat her against a tree (It looked far too much like the way they found her for Arthurs liking).

Merlin took a waterskin from the nearest horse and gently poured some down her throat. This clearly woke her up more as she began coughing and spluttering, pushing Merlin’s hand away in the process. When her wheezing calmed down, she looked around in surprise.

“Wh—” another scratchy cough, “Where am I? My throat, it’s burn—” more painful coughs. Arthur almost looked away, somehow feeling guilty that she was in such pain.

“You are on your way to Camelot. My name is Merlin, I’m the Royal Physicians apprentice. This,” he gestures to Arthur who decides he should look more Kingly and not cower and the pained sounds she is making “is King Arthur Pendragon and the others are Knights of the Round Table.”

“Oh.”

Merlin rummages in his bag, pulling the phial of honey out again. He pours a little onto a wooden spoon he had in his coat pocket, and hands it to the girl. How Merlin remembers where he keeps all these small objects is beyond Arthur, but he is glad he does.

“Here, drink this. It should soothe your throat a little. It’s just honey but it will do until we get back to Camelot.”

She eyes it, sceptical, but drinks it regardless.

“I am sorry for the burning. I had to make you, you know, get rid of the wolfsbane you ingested.” She grimaced at the thought.

Arthur waited for a short while until he was certain Merlin was done tending to their guest. “There is a stream around the corner. We should stop there to have lunch before we set off again. I am sure we would all appreciate the chance to stretch our legs.”

The knights all grunt in response before they set off again. Merlin and the girl walk side by side – the girl leaning on him a little – while Lancelot takes the reins of Merlin’s horse along with his own. It doesn’t take them long to reach the stream Arthur had mentioned and the relief that they could stop properly was evident on everyone’s faces. Except Gwaine, he hardly seemed to register they have even moved. Arthur furrowed his brows at this but choose to ignore it for now.

The knights sat on a large log, Merlin and Arthur sitting opposite them, as they ate the bread and salted meat that the manservant retrieved upon reaching the stream. The girl sat beside Lancelot looking dazed. The kind knight offers her small smiles and sips of water occasionally but it doesn’t make much difference.

“I’m going to get more water.” Declared Gwaine, picking up his full waterskin, which looks like it hasn’t been touched since yesterday. He left with a nod to his King, not giving anyone time to object. Merlin shot his back a concerned look but stayed, his patient having his focus. No one else made a move to leave, too into eating or watching the girl as she nibbles on her bread and sips of Lancelot’s drink.

--

Gwaine was not a crier. He was not going to cry. He was a Knight of the Round Table, protector to the King of Camelot and, if Merlin’s drunk ramblings had any truth to them, protector to the Once and Future King of the united Albion, whatever that meant.

And yet, as he stumbled to away from the camp, aware that no one was coming after him, he felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shove down. He finally didn’t feel numb, but he wasn’t sure this was better. Thinking of how his friends would react to him coming back with red eyes didn’t help the situation, instead making his eyes glossy. He sighed a long sigh, and heavily slid down an oak tree, hugging his arms against his chest and leaning his head on his knees.

A part of his wanted to pull his sleeves back and trace the white stripes that lines his arms. Another part wanted to make them red again. But a more rational part (likely influenced by Merlin, curse that beautiful boy) made sure he kept them where they were, wrapped around his torso. He could feel where each line lay, his mind playing tricks on him as he pictured his little blade drawing against his skin.

Sometimes, often, Gwaine hated his brain. It wasn’t a very nice to him. Though, he thought, he wasn’t very nice to his body so maybe this was fair.

He took a sip of his water, making a face as he regretted not bringing the skin of mead that he had thought about before they set off a few dawns ago. Mead would be very nice right now.

Pouring some water on his hands and splashing his face with it, he stood up, shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and made his way back to the temporary camp. A few paces from his previous seat, he realised that he hadn’t actually filled his waterskin, but it was too late and so all he could do was hope no one noticed.

They had, but they didn’t comment so he considered that a win.

Arthur hopped up again as he noticed Gwaine return (he tried not to stare at the clearly-not-refilled waterskin) and gestured for everyone else to rise too. Time to set off. If they continued at the speed they were at before, they should get back before luncheon the next day and he could have a nice long bath, the girl could be treated fully, Gwaine would go to the Tavern and would return just as talkative as before (though he wouldn’t object if he talked just a little less, the King thought) and everything would be okay.

Just one more night in the woods.

-

-

-

-

I hope you liked this! I have a few chapters already written and am expecting it to be about 6 chapters long? It was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away...

If you happen to want to be on a tag list for this then comment/message me!

This is the first fic I've properly written and it's based on a dream I've been having over the last few days. It's not really planned so I hope that doesn't show.

[taxicabinmemphis]

Prince Charming - Chapter 1

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six

So tumblr is being evil and not letting me put a strikethrough on the word ‘prince’ on the title so please pretend it’s there. This was supposed to just be fluffy Intrulogical but look at what happened. It was supposed to be shorter, too! I was like ‘don’t expect it to get to 2k’ but here we are… :/ (Side note - most indications that Janus is lying are in italics, just to make sure y’all can tell since I don’t know of a way to write Janus’ tone and vocal inflection that indicates his lies except using italics (however this is only for Janus, I will use italics in dialogue for other characters and they are not indications of dishonesty.)) Word count - 3,474 Pairing - Intrulogical, Prinxiety (I didn’t plan it, it just kinda happened and I rolled with it), pre Moceit, platonic Logicality and Dukeceit bc they are cute friends, platonic/familial Moxiety bc they cute too Warnings - some characters are a lil insensitive in spots but I wouldn’t call them unsympathetic, swearing, quick food mention in a later chapter, sword fighting, self-deprecation from most sides, a character gets hurt, pining, and Remus-typical behavior (body horror mentions and other stuff heh), if there’s anything else that should be tagged or put in the warnings, tell me please!

Despite his birthday long having passed, Roman was somehow able to convince the other sides to join him in an adventure in the Imagination. While some sides, like Patton, were ecstatic about the idea, others, such as Virgil, weren’t as enthusiastic. Knowing Roman, there would be adventure, royalty, danger, and heroism, and those things didn’t appeal to everyone. But still, somehow, all had been convinced.

Roman threw the door to the Imagination open forcefully, a dramatic gust of wind seeming to help him with the task. The door opened to show an elegant white castle. The entrance to the castle grounds was only a couple hundred feet from the door. “Welcome, fellow adventurers. Please enter, this is where today’s story begins!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil grumbled, shoving past Roman and entering the Imagination. “What got me to do this again?”

“One starts to wonder similarly,” Logan agreed, following the purple-clad side through the door.

“Don’t be so negative, you two,” Patton chastised. “I’m sure Roman has something entertaining planned.”

“Well, I don’t know entertaining unless severed limbs are involved.”

“To each his own,” Roman grumbled at his brother, following the last side in.

Roman closed the door behind him and clapped his hands to get his companions’ attention. They all turned to him, varying levels of excitement on each of their faces.

“Let’s get this over with,” Virgil muttered, before raising the volume of his voice to continue. “What are we doing today?”

“How kind of you to ask, Virgil!” Roman chirped. “Our adventure today is something I have had in the works for a while now. As you can see from the beautiful castle behind me, we will be engaging in a medieval war of two different kingdoms. I, and the sides assigned to the kingdom of Romania–”

“That’s already a country, Roman,” Logan interrupted.

“That is false, Logan,” Janus agreed. “Also, wouldn’t it be more…considerate not to name a kingdom multiple sides will be assigned to after yourself?”

“There’s a reason you’re not being assigned to my kingdom, snake boy,” Roman murmured, before speaking louder. “Fine. I, and the sides assigned to…Azeria will be trying to retrieve the crown jewels that belong to our kingdom. They were stolen by the kingdom of Reptania.”

“Creative,” Virgil remarked sarcastically.

Roman ignored him. “When we get to Reptania, however, we will discover that the rulers of Reptania have been keeping someone prisoner under a mind control curse that puts the prisoner under the cruel will of Reptania’s rulers!”

“Dear Lord-a-mercy,” Virgil commented, lacing his tone with exasperation.

Roman turned to him, annoyed. “Can you not? For one second?” Roman cleared his throat as Virgil snorted in response. “The prisoner can be you if you’re so chatty on the subject.”

Virgil groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Anyway, we will free the prisoner after we defeat the evil rulers of Reptania in an epic battle of medieval weapons, and take the freed emo back to our kingdom.”

“Let me guess,” Janus drawled, “Remus and I will rule Reptania, and Patton and Logan will join you in…I forget what you called your kingdom.”

“You are right, Janus, Patton, and Logan will join me in Azeria and the two of you will be in Reptania,” Roman answered, slightly annoyed. “Does that work for you all?”

Murmurs of acknowledgment and begrudging agreement were heard backgrounding a louder and more enthusiastic “it works wonderfully!” from Patton. Roman hardly gave them time to object, however, as he clapped his hands again with a grin and started walking away from the door and deeper into the Imagination.

—

“I see no reason why we have to wear this strange…attire you have picked out for us, Roman,” Logan remarked, grimacing as he struggled with putting on chainmail.

The three of them were in Azeria’s castle in the prince’s royal quarters where Patton and Logan’s outfits were laid on chairs. They had changed in separate rooms, but now they had to put on the dreaded chainmail (that they got each other’s help with because no one wanted to deal with it alone). Logan and Patton’s chainmail were colored; indigo and light blue respectively. Roman, because of his already princely outfit, felt he didn’t have to bother with the armor, despite Patton’s protests regarding safety and fairness. Patton also had a leather backpack, meant for carrying back the stolen crown jewels to their kingdom.

“We are knights of the royal court, Logan! You must. If it makes you feel any better, I have set out armor for Janus, Virgil, and Remus to wear. I was quite vehement in the note I left that they wear it.”

“Besides, Logan, it’s not that bad,” Patton said as he finished putting on the armor.

“I also don’t see why I am a knight,” Logan added. “Wouldn’t Virgil be a better choice? Fight or flight is his area.”

“He was being a chatty, sarcastic little shit–”

“Roman!”

“–so he was practically asking to be assigned to the prisoner position.”

“From what I could tell, Virgil made no indication that he wanted to be the prisoner,” Logan objected.

“He was being sarcastic and interrupting me as I covered that part of the story, Logan!” Roman argued.

“While I have no idea as to how commentary and requests correlate out of context, I suppose it’s up to you.”

“Yes, it is, and if you both are finished putting on your armor, we should go to the stables and get our horses so we can ride out to Reptania!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Roman?” Patton asked with a sly grin, placing a camera he brought (“to preserve memories”, as he previously explained to Roman) at the bottom of the backpack. He then put the backpack on.

Roman frowned. “Am I? What am I forgetting, Patton?”

“Swords!” Patton exclaimed with a small jump.

Roman lit up. “How could I forget? Come to the armory, my blue-clothed friends. We must arm ourselves!”

“Technically, we are engaging Reptania in a rather unnecessary battle as there is no survival-based requirement for crown jewels, so gathering arms isn’t exactly needed.”

Roman huffed and Patton gave Logan a stern look.

When they got to the armory, Roman immediately took a longsword from where it was sheathed. He seemed to weigh it and test its balance in his hands before giving it a couple of sample swings. The sword had a golden shine on it that Roman seemed to like.

“Don’t you already have a katana?” Logan asked.

“Yes, Logan, I do,” Roman confirmed, “but this is longer. I left my katana in my room anyway, I will not be using it today.”

Patton looked around the room with cautious excitement, obviously concerned for everyone’s safety with the blades, but still thoroughly enjoying picking a weapon for himself. A shortsword seemed to catch his eye. He hurried over to it and picked it up. The sword was a little under two feet in length, the center of its crossguard adorned with a round gemstone of blue topaz.

“Look at this sword, Roman! Isn’t it nice?” he asked, jumping up and down a bit. “It’s just the right size, and it has a pretty blue gem at the top of the hilt!”

Roman smiled at Patton. “It’s stunning, Padre! Perfect for a knight of your skill and prestige.”

“It is indeed quite attractive of a sword, Patton,” Logan agreed. “And the gem at the center of the crossguard matches your outfit.”

On Logan’s right was a rack of swords of various types. He picked up a flamberge sword, a couple of inches over being four feet long. The hilt, crossguard, and a wavy line going through the center of the blade were colored an indigo that matched Logan’s chainmail.

“This seems adequate,” Logan commented, holding the sword in front of him with both hands.

“It’s significantly over two thirds your height,” Roman noted. “Over twice the length of Patton’s sword.”

“Your longsword is similar,” Logan replied.

“I’m a prince.”

Logan sheathed the sword on his person and turned to Roman. “And I’m a knight.”

Patton opened the door and turned to the two. “Come on, you two, let’s get our horses!”

The three armed sides made their way out of the armory and to the stables. Roman raced ahead of his knights to stop at a beautiful white horse, a little bit taller than the others. He mounted the animal with ease and smiled at his friends who had just reached the stables.

“Pick your favorite, there are choices,” he instructed gleefully, but his voice turned serious at his next words. “Diamante is mine, though. She’s mine.”

Logan lifted his hands as a gesture of surrender and made his way over to a black stallion. “Can I take this one?”

“Yeah, you can take Obsidian,” Roman stated. “Only Diamante is off-limits.”

Patton patted a light brown horse’s mane as Logan mounted his horse. “I like this one. Do they have a name?”

“That’s Ophelia. She’s a sweetheart.”

“I love her!” Patton exclaimed, mounting the mare. He, admittedly, had more difficulty than the other two sides with the task.

He eventually got himself properly positioned on the horse, him and Roman exchanging a nod indicating readiness.

“Let’s go!”

The three horses galloped out of the stables, Diamante in the lead. They rode quickly, Roman seeming to know where to go. Azeria castle was soon left behind, and Reptania could be spotted nearby.

“How long until we arrive, Roman?” Patton asked.

Roman glanced at him quickly. “Not much longer.”

Reptania castle eventually came into clear view, the darkly colored walls of its castle giving it an eerie vibe. Some walls on the outer sides of the castle had vines growing up them; that and other creepier features caught Patton’s timid eyes, while Roman stared ahead with an unwavering glare that mirrored his determination. Logan was just relieved the adventure Roman had forced him into was closer to its end.

They arrived at the front gates, slowing their horses to a stop. Two guards moved to stand in front of the castle gates, effectively blocking the three knights’ path. Roman looked at them sternly.

“Let us pass,” Roman ordered. “We have business with the rulers of this kingdom.”

The guards stood motionless.

“Maybe try please?” Patton whispered to the prince.

“Remus is my brother,” Roman stated to the guards, before deciding to take Patton’s advice. “Please let us pass. We come in peace.”

After a moment, the guards let up and moved to let the three colorful knights pass. As the trio’s horses passed the gates, Logan leaned towards Roman (who was on his left) slightly.

“You do know that you communicated a falsehood so they would let us pass.”

Roman sighed. “Yes, Logan. But they were evil henchmen villain guards and we have to get through in order to have the epic battle and get the crown jewels.”

“And rescue Virgil,” the logical side reminded.

“Yes, but we’re not supposed to know we should do that yet,” Roman reminded him, slightly exasperated.

“We’re not?” Patton asked.

“No, Padre, remember? We’re not supposed to figure out Virgil is under a mind control curse until later.”

“How will we know?” Patton inquired.

“We’ll know!”

The three of them dismounted and walked their horses to the stables. They left the horses easily accessible, just in case they had to make a swift exit.

They quickly but carefully entered the castle and followed Roman through the halls. He seemed to have an idea of what they were doing and where to go, unlike the other two.

“Are we going to where Janus and Remus are keeping the stolen crown jewels?” Patton asked.

“Yes, now shh,” Roman whispered. “I think they’re in this next room. There are two guards stationed on either side of the door looking quite purposeful.”

“Oh no,” Logan said with a sigh. “Will we have to sword fight them too?”

Roman grinned at him. “Yes!”

“We should create a plan–”

Roman drew his sword and left the two other knights to stand in front of the guards. “If you let me pass, I will not hurt you.”

The guards drew their weapons, identical claymore swords, and stood in front of the door. The one on Roman’s right spoke. “Leave.”

“You could have at least said ‘please’ to him,” the other guard chastised.

“He threatened to harm us,” the one on the right growled.

“He could still be a nice fellow. Confused, maybe, but nice.”

“Good people,” Roman interrupted. “I am here for the crown jewels your rulers stole from our kingdom.”

“How did you know the crown jewels were in here?” the one on the left asked.

Roman gave the guard a smirk. “You just confirmed it.”

“Idiot,” the guard on the right murmured to their compatriot.

The guard on the left crossed their arms angrily. “Well, it seemed as if he already knew. He also looks like Remus, so I thought that Remus might know him and told him.”

“Did it occur to you that he looks like Remus because he’s his brother?” The guard on the right continued when the guard on the left didn’t reply. “Remus and his brother reside in rival kingdoms!”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t know that?! It was at orientation last week, you fucking moron-”

“Let me pass,” Roman cut in. “I know the crown jewels are in there, so why don’t you let me in and out and no one has to know.”

“We can’t do that, so leave,” the guard on the right answered sternly.

“Yeah, and any ask for entrance has to be reported to Remus and Janus,” the guard on the left added.

“We can skip that, just this once.”

“Nah, man, I’m afraid not.” The guard on the left solemnly shook his head. “I don’t want to get fired; need to convince my mom I can keep a job.”

“Did Remus make this guy?” Roman muttered under his breath, before speaking to the pair. “Well, I have to get in there.”

“And we have to keep you out.”

“Fine then,” Roman said, giving his longsword a swing. “We’ll have to do this the hard way.”

He walked towards the door, the guards intercepting him. The one on the left took a swing at Roman’s neck, but Roman parried it before disarming him. The guard’s sword clattered to the ground, Logan appearing from seemingly nowhere to take the fallen sword so the guard couldn’t retrieve it. The logical side drew his sword and joined Roman in the sword fight. The two quickly incapacitated the guard who was previously on the right.

“I’m telling Remus and Janus!” the guard on the left cried as they ran away from the Azerian knights. “Better to be unarmed and useful than unarmed and unconscious!”

Roman shrugged, he and Logan sheathing their swords. “We’re gonna have to fight them eventually.”

“Besides,” Patton added, approaching his friends, “that guard was funnier!”

“You mean less attentive and less intelligent,” Roman corrected.

“None the matter,” Logan interrupted. “We should get the jewels before reinforcements arrive.”

“But what about the sword fight–”

“Do you actively search for an opportunity to get murdered, Roman?”

Roman gasped in offense. “I search for adventure, thank you very much.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get the jewels.”

Patton opened and held the door for his fellow knights. The light blue-clad side closed the door behind him and faced a medium-sized room, with the Azeria crown jewels enclosed in a glass case almost five feet off the ground. The three approached it carefully, Roman slowly drawing his sword.

Logan put out an arm to discourage him from whatever he was considering doing. “We must be careful. We don’t know what kind of alarms brashly breaking the case will set off.”

Despite the logical side’s warning, Roman broke the case with his longsword. Logan threw his arms up in exasperation and the lights in the room started to flash red. An alarm started to sound as well. Patton covered his ears with his hands and Roman sheathed his sword, staring intently at the jewels and the shards of glass that had fallen on them.

“Not to mention,” Logan added with an air of sarcasm, “the broken glass would make the jewels much harder to retrieve.”

Roman turned around and gave him a glare. “Real helpful at this point, Specs.”

Logan scoffed. “Either way, Roman, I think it’s only fair that you collect the jewels and put them in Patton’s backpack. Considering you were the one who made it harder to retrieve them.”

“Alright,” Roman conceded, rolling his eyes. “But only because I don’t want Patton to cut his fingers and I know how stubborn you are. Would you come over here for a second, Padre?”

Patton slowly uncovered his ears and tip-toed over to Roman, making sure to watch his step. He took his backpack from around his shoulders and opened it. Roman slowly took the crown, making sure not to touch any glass, shook it gently to get the glass off of it, and then carefully placed it in the backpack. He did the same with the rest of the jewels, Patton loyally holding the bag open.

The second Patton closed the bag and positioned it over his shoulders, three figures entered the room. The three Azerian knights watched as Janus and Remus walked into the room, clad in black and colored chainmail (yellow and green, respectively). Virgil was at their side, wearing purple under black chainmail.

“I take it you have a deep affinity for colored chainmail, Roman,” Logan remarked.

“It helps to tell people apart.”

Logan nodded. “Fair enough.”

Remus, who was in between Janus (who was on his right) and Virgil (who was on his left), drew his sword. It was a rapier, just under three and a half feet long. He gave Roman a glare and a villainous smirk.

“You’ve come for the crown jewels, I see,” he observed, waving a hand in the air, causing the lights to return to normal and the alarm to silence.

Roman matched his brother’s glare. “Our crown jewels, you mean.”

“But we like yours!” Remus objected.

“Don’t you have your own?” Logan asked tiredly.

Remus turned to the logical side. “Really, Logan? You’re playing Princey’s game? I thought I knew you better.” The Duke sighed and shook his head. “And yes, we have our own, but we like yours too.”

“Maybe we could trade…?” Patton suggested quietly.

“No,” Roman rejected sternly. “We must have our crown jewels.”

“Really, brother dearest? You must?”

“Yes, Remus. I must,” Roman reiterated. “They are sacred to Azeria!”

“Seriously, Remus,” Logan started, reentering the conversation, “they’re just a set of jewels. You have your own. Why are you so fixated on keeping them? Stealing them creates unnecessary conflict. By relinquishing the jewels back to our kingdom, you will be avoiding drama and the potential injury of your…companions.”

“But Logan, we want to sword fight,” the two brothers objected simultaneously.

“Really, Roman? You’re arguing against my call for their peaceful return of our crown jewels?”

“Gentlemen,” Janus cut in, “let’s not resolve this. As slowly as we can.”

Remus pointed his sword at Roman. “I think we can all agree with this tried-and-true method.”

“Umm, actually–” Patton started to object, putting his finger in the air.

“Shut your face-hole, baby blue knight,” Remus interrupted, “this has been the plan from the start.”

“I’m absolutely positive you couldn’t have said that nicer, Remus,” Janus chided.

“Since when do you care?” Remus shot back rhetorically. “Draw your sword, fellow ruler and protector of Reptania!”

Janus sighed, unsheathing his especially long sword. It was a Zweihander of a length no side cared to estimate, with a yellow hilt and straight yellow line going through the center of the black blade. The Azerians gasped at the sight, while the Reptanians already knew of the deceitful side’s impressive sword.

After a moment of silence, Roman spoke.

“Are you seriously extra at every chance you get?”

“He’s literally Deceit, Roman. Master of lies and over-the-top deceptions,” Virgil muttered, speaking for the first time. “He has swept us into theatrical and legal settings to work out problems that did not require as much drama and overthought than what was forced upon us.”

“Shut it, Virgil,” Janus ordered. “Don’t speak.”

A yellow light with a size similar (if not a little bigger) to that of a softball appeared in front of Virgil’s face for half a second before disappearing. When it faded, the sides could see Virgil’s mouth had closed and his gaze was directed to the floor. The room was enveloped in an agonizing silence.

“I told you we’d know, Patton,” Roman said quietly, with no real bite in his words.

~

Finally getting some more writing to y’all, yay! I hope you like it. Fair warning: school started again so guess who isn’t gonna be able to write as often (it’s me). Don’t be tricked by this. I have no idea how much homework will be coming my way so I can’t promise a lot more writing. Please enjoy this fic because it’s probably gonna be all y’all get for a while. Thanks!

[morallygreyvigilante]

Blue Exorcist - Unpopular Opinion

I wouldn’t go as far as ‘hate’...but I really dislike Yukio.

Before I actually get into it, I want to start by admitting that some of the reasons I have for not liking Yukio stem more from the attitudes and actions of other characters rather than things that Yukio himself has said and done (though he does have his moments as well). I would also like to point out that anything I discuss here is going to be based on the events of the anime as well as conversations I’ve had with others who like the series.

Anyone who’s watched Blue Exorcist for, well, three episodes at most already knows that Rin and Yukio are the sons of Satan. This is where my first criticism of his character (or I guess I should say ‘treatment’) comes in.

I’m willing to overlook the whole “demon son and human son” thing, since only one of their parents was actually human so that would always be a possibility. However, when Rin’s powers are awakened at the start he is able to use them instantly (his level of control is a different matter) whereas Yukio didn’t seem to experience any changes until part way through the anime where it was revealed that he did have powers (or, at the very least, the potential to generate the same power as his brother).

Before I explore the power level difference, I’m going to look at their upbringing and the main criticism I have with it. Due to his powers being sealed away, Rin spent most of his life growing up unaware of the existence of demons and - by extension - that he was one. In theory this would mean that Yukio would have also been unaware of their existence since we get hints that his own powers were sealed away by extension when they eventually start surfacing towards the end of the season. But because his brother was technically a demon, Yukio was able to see them.

Now onto my criticism, Rin was more or less able to live a normal childhood while Yukio trained to become an exorcist. Why is that a problem? Let me repeat, Yukio began training to be an exorcist while Rin grew up with a relatively normal childhood. Sure, we find out that it’s mostly so Yukio can protect Rin but still, essentially creating a child soldier to protect his brother...when said brother was believed to be human by most people, and wouldn’t be able to access his powers for a long time...was it really necessary at this stage?

Let’s fast-forward to Rin enrolling at True Cross Academy. This is the part where we find out that Yukio is already an exorcist and that he’s going to be teaching others to become exorcists. I was willing to accept that since well, it’s an anime, there are some things that you just don’t question in favour of enjoying the story. What I can’t ignore is his initial reaction to seeing Rin in his class - seriously? Who pulls a gun on their brother? Especially when they’ve just watched their father die? - sure, the spiel about Rin being a demon could be excused as him bluffing but it does spark some questions; if Yukio agreed to become an exorcist to protect his brother, then why would he pull a gun on him unprompted? Because he was the son of Satan? In that case there should’ve been a gun pointing at Yukio as well.

Also, regarding both of their treatment in the academy setting. Yukio was praised for his skill as an exorcist while Rin was mocked (okay, maybe not that bad but I don’t know what other word to use) for his limited knowledge when compared to his classmates. At this stage I’m going to start drawing parallels between Blue Exorcist and My Hero Academia because there are some similarities here (and in my next point as well). Specifically I’m going to compare the knowledge the 1-A students have regarding their quirks and the knowledge the exwires have about their field.

The students in 1-A gained their quirks when they were aged 4-5 and so they had most of their lives to learn about them and how to use them, just like the exwires had a decent amount of time to learn about the existence of demons before enrolling in True Cross. In both cases, the only exception was Izuku and Rin (respectively). However the experiences of both characters after enrolling in their respective academies was different. Izuku was knowledgeable on quirks despite only having his for a much shorter stretch of time - and therefore having far less control over it - than his classmates. Rin, on the other hand, had very limited knowledge on demons (because he’d spent most of his life believing them to be a work of fiction) and, by extension, his own power.

As he’s the teacher in this situation, Yukio should’ve known that Rin’s knowledge was lacking when compared to the rest of the class. Other than a few instances where Yukio criticized Rin for not studying, he didn’t seem to make many attempts to educate his brother unless prompted to. I want to make one thing clear here, giving Rin extra tutoring would not have been displaying favouritism, it is the teacher’s job to ensure that students are able to keep up. I’m not saying that it was solely Yukio’s responsibility since Rin could’ve made the effort to be more proactive himself, but it should’ve been a consideration.

Yes, I know this analysis is hinging more on Rin than Yukio but I feel it’s necessary. With that being said, the next factor I want to explore is the control Rin and Yukio have over their powers.

In a crisis situation, Rin is shown to have a decent enough control over his power, that control only seems to slip when he is actively focusing on using it - similarly to Izuku in My Hero Academia. The difference between the two characters? Izuku had multiple people to help him gain control, people who were already familiar with the power. Rin on the other hand, only had one person actively trying to teach him, someone who - while arguably being the best person for the job - only had a limited understanding of his power. I’m going to stop mentioning Izuku now because I don’t want this analysis to stray too far from the original topic.

Not only is Rin’s control over his power limited, he also seems to lose control of himself when Kurikara is damaged. Having his powers sealed away has only proved to cause more trouble for Rin than he would’ve had if he’d been able to learn about his powers at an early age. How does Yukio fit into this? Simple, when Yukio’s powers temporarily awaken (largely due to Satan possessing him, but he’s still able to use them for a short time afterwards) and, despite having them for a significantly shorter time than Rin, he’s able to use them with barely any difficulty. This shouldn’t have been possible. Yes, you can argue that he was able to control them due to inheriting more of his mother’s humanity than Rin, but that is still a flimsy argument. His knowledge wouldn’t have been much help here either since having knowledge on a subject and actually using it is an entirely different matter - you wouldn’t be a perfect marksman when using a gun for the first time, regardless of how much you know about shooting.

From what we see in the anime, Yukio is constantly viewed as a good role-model and I’ve long since lost track of the amount of times Rin was compared to him, with Yukio himself occasionally criticizing Rin’s actions or character. Which brings me onto the main reasons I have for disliking Yukio.

Yukio and Rin are both sons of Satan, yet Rin is often viewed as the dangerous one when in reality, it should be the other way around. While Rin inherited most of their father’s power, he doesn’t fully understand it and viewed himself as a normal kid for most of his life. He had no combat training or experience (barring a few fights we see on-screen and the ones that we can assume he was involved in growing up). He only seems to lose control of his powers when he’s actively focusing on using them or when Kurikara is damaged. He is also shown to posses high levels of empathy towards humans (as a result of his upbringing) as well as the demons who don’t seem to have any ill-intentions and are content with living alongside humans.

Yukio, on the other hand, has been training to become an exorcist since he was very young and has an extensive understanding of demons. In a fight between the two of them (not involving any weapons or powers) the only reason that Rin could possibly win would be because he is physically stronger, and even then that would happen if he managed to land a hit. Yukio is arguably the bigger threat yet the other characters always seem to overlook this whenever the topic of conversation switches to how dangerous Rin is.

Characters in Blue Exorcist seem to have a grudging respect (or tolerance at the very least) of Mephisto despite him being a powerful demon and his own loyalties being flimsy at best. Yet characters seem to despise/fear Rin and for what? Being the son of Satan? Yukio is also the son of Satan yet no one seems to bat an eye at it, even though he’d be more of a threat if he decided to switch sides than Rin would be.

Mephisto, while viewed with some suspicion is generally allowed to operate as he pleases despite being one of the most powerful demons in existence. Yukio is often viewed as Fujimoto’s son (despite having no biological relation) while Rin is viewed as Satan’s son (despite being raised by Fujimoto). Yukio was willingly involved with the incident at the end of the season where a gathering of exorcists allowed - albeit, unintentionally - demons to swarm the human world and what was his punishment? He was demoted to the rank he was at the start of the season. Rin lost control maybe one or two times at most before he was captured, both times he was able to either regain control or stop before anyone could get hurt, and what happened to him? He was put on trial (encased in a crystal so he couldn’t even defend himself) and essentially told that he had a year to gain control of his powers and pass his exwire exams otherwise he would be executed.

I mostly just hate how many free passes Yukio gets in contrast to Rin who essentially has to jump hoops just to be allowed to live. Sure, Yukio is typicall more cautious than Rin, but does that really justify the treatment they both receive? No, no it doesn’t.

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 5

Read on Inkitt

First | Prev | Next

Chapter V: in which the proverbial dam breaks

We stayed with Esther for three days. We’d spend the daylight hours working in the field, and in the evenings we’d sit outside and listen to Esther’s stories while the sun sank into the far-off horizon and gave way to the cool summer night. Sometimes, she’d help us in the garden or sit by the back door with the baby; other times she’d spend most of the afternoon in the house, and we’d see her carrying out crates of old-looking memorabilia, like our hard work had inspired her to finally clear out the detritus of an old life that she didn’t lead anymore.

Over those three days, we razed the overgrown garden rows, trimmed back the bushes, and cleared the creeping vines from the side of the house with the old rusted garden tools from the dusty, cobweb-laden wooden bin by the back door. There were several moments where I considered disappearing overnight, dragging an unwilling Petra back home with me before something could go horribly wrong. But every time, the thought of sleeping another night in the treetops and the mental image of Esther waking up one morning to find us gone convinced me to stay, at least until the work was done.

On the morning of the fourth day, Petra and I gathered up our measly belongings from the stable and bid our goodbyes to Esther and the baby, standing between the freshly shorn raspberry bushes with the whole truth sinking into the sun-baked earth unspoken. I began a thousand sentences in my head without finishing any of them, but thankfully, Petra picked up the slack.

“Thank you so much, ma’am, for everything,” she said with a polite nod.

Esther returned her thanks with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, dear. It was nice to have some helping hands around for a few days.”

Petra went in for a quick hug, and if I’d had a heart, I believe it would have leapt into my throat and stayed there, permanently, until I choked on it and died. Instead, I found myself suddenly frozen to the ground where I stood, a thousand panicked thoughts buzzing under my skin until I saw Esther reach her free arm towards me and took a practiced step backward, a trillion possible endings to a million possible nightmares playing out in my head in that one instant.

“Thank you,” I choked out, startling Esther out of the bewildered expression that had crept onto her kind face. “Sincerely, I’ll never be able to thank you enough. More than you will ever know.” I gave her a polite nod to match Petra’s and turned to go, but when we were halfway to the road, she stopped me.

“Ace!” Esther called after me.

I turned around to see her look of confusion soften into something bordering on sorrow.

“I don’t know what it is, and I don’t expect you to tell me,” she began, “but whatever it is, no matter how bad you think it is, it doesn’t matter. You’re always welcome here, if you ever decide to come back. That’s a promise.”

“Please don’t make a promise I can’t expect you to keep, ma’am,” I answered honestly, and then I turned to go, Petra marching solemnly alongside me with her hands clutching the straps of her now full bag.

“You’re good kids, both of you!” Esther shouted, her voice carrying her desperation through the raspberry field down to the road’s edge. “I really mean that!”

I said nothing in return, and looked back only once, to see the baby reaching that chubby hand out toward me from afar. As the tiny house and Esther’s slowly shrinking form began to disappear at our backs, I thought quietly about the argument Petra and I’d had amongst the too-tall weeds that first day, and was left wondering which of us was right.

* * *

Bertrand greeted me with cold indifference when we finally arrived back in the Village of the Heartless. The house was stuffy; it felt more oppressively stark and empty than I remembered, as if I’d been gone for months instead of less than a week. It didn’t seem like Bertrand had eaten much, unless he’d managed to get more food in my absence—the more likely scenario was that he’d been brewing away at failed cure after cure in his study the entire time I had been away. It wasn’t as though he did much else when I was home, for that matter.

The sweltering summer dragged on, slow and sticky like pulled taffy. The weeks passed in much the same way as the ones that came before; Bertrand and I rarely spoke, and I spent long afternoons in the shade of the forest grove having target practice with Petra. She and I had taken to doing odd jobs for the neighbors in exchange for food or supplies, scrubbing kitchen floors on our hands and knees or picking fresh vegetables for the summer harvest until the sun had dappled new freckles across our noses and the tops of our shoulders. Whenever I couldn’t sleep at night (which was often), I’d climb to the top of the oak tree by the village gates with my bow and arrow and wait for someone to show up. No one ever did, aside from Petra—though her escapades were admittedly few now that our days were occupied by work.

Eventually, the days began to grow shorter and the summer heat faded into the crisp early autumn. The leaves on the big oak tree lost their green hue and the air grew drier day by day as the year commenced its twilight march to the cold, dark winter. The mounting tension in our tiny house came to a head on one cool autumn night, when my tired bones finally gave in to the deceitful throes of sleep.

* * *

My parents were very good at hiding the fact that I had no heart in my chest, and they had to be—harboring a Heartless child was against royal decree and would likely get them imprisoned, or worse. The people of Swallow’s Point didn’t suspect a thing, and I was content to keep it that way. I saw no reason to ever be discovered; I was living an ordinary childhood simply by pretending to be ordinary, and it was working.

It was just a beautiful, average day; the neighborhood children were out playing in the grass. In an act of heroics, Basil climbed atop a tree stump, wielding a stick like a pretend sword. We were playing knights, like we always did.

“I’m going to be king!” Basil declared gleefully to our group like a ruler addressing his people.

I turned up my nose and protested, “Basil, we’re all supposed to be knights! That’s the point of the game!”

Basil frowned, fists landing on his scrawny hips. “No, stupid, I mean in real life! I’m going to be king someday!”

"Sure you are,” retorted a kid who reminded me of Knife Boy. “You have to be related to the king to do that.”

Basil shrugged. “Maybe I am.”

“I don’t think so. You’re too weird to be related to King Brutus,” Marcus taunted.

“Don’t speak that way to your future king!” Basil joked, hopping down gracefully from his stump. He landed with a soft thud, worn-out shoes kicking up a cloud of dirt. The dust coated his face and clothes as he and the other boy began play-wrestling in the dirt road where we lived, laughing all the while, and warning bells resounded in my head. I could sense the impending danger from a mile away; it was an instinct I had been honing even throughout the most carefree years of my life, in case I ever needed it.

"Basil,” I muttered, hoping he would hear me and no one else, “maybe you shouldn’t—”

I stopped short, choking on my own breath as the group went dead silent. Marcus had gone to push Basil away and in doing so had placed a hand to Basil’s empty chest. He froze that way, eyes wide, and Basil paled considerably, realizing the gravity of what was happening. The moment cemented itself in my mind’s eye as tension soaked into the air, heavy and still.

“Why were you tricking us this whole time?” Marcus grumbled in a voice too low and too angry to ever come from a child. “You’re cursed! You could doom our whole village!”

“I just wanted friends,” was Basil’s whispered reply, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. I saw him take a deep breath, chest rising, and then he spoke again, this time louder, bolder, “It shouldn’t matter! We were all friends until just now when you decided something was wrong with me! But that doesn’t change what I’ve always been!”

The entire group of children, save for myself, turned on him in an instant.

I backed further and further away from the scene but couldn’t look away, and in my mind’s eye their pretend-sword sticks became distorted until they resembled Knife Boy’s grimy dagger. I reasoned with myself, assuring myself that he was spry enough, light enough on his feet to escape. But poor, ten-year-old, Heartless Basil who had just declared himself king stared me dead in the eyes with a look that told me to run. So I did. He was foolish to let his guard down, I told myself. It was his own fault for becoming complacent. I almost convinced myself it was true.

  “Ace! Ace, wake up!”

I jolted awake, the residual terror warping the shadows cast by the lantern light into something macabre. It took a moment to will my body to move; my limbs had been reduced to lead, like if I played dead whatever demons haunted my sleep could not hurt me.

“Fuck,” I finally choked out, the hoarseness in my voice making me realize I had been screaming. I hadn’t woken up screaming from a nightmare in years, and it was at that point that I at last noticed Bertrand hovering beside my cot, the soft light from the lantern illuminating his stony features. There was something genuine in his expression—I realized belatedly that it was concern, and for some reason, it made me uncomfortable. Bertrand did not admonish me for my language, but instead stared at me patiently, expectantly, and somehow that made it worse.

"Sorry," I rasped. "For waking you."

Bertrand shook his head. “I was not asleep,” was all he said.

It occurred to me that Bertrand was the only living soul to whom I had ever told the details about Basil’s disappearance and the day I left Swallow’s Point. I had spilled to him one night as a child, the first time I woke him in the middle of the night with my screaming. He hadn’t said much, but he’d made me a cup of hot tea and let me lay my ten-year-old soul bare to him despite the ungodly hour. It had helped at the time, but it didn’t feel like an option now. I tried to steady my breathing, but I couldn’t, not with him looking at me so earnestly like that; it was as though my blood itself were vibrating just under my skin.

“I need to take a walk,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the cot and reaching for my shoes. I met Bertrand’s gaze, daring him to challenge me, but though he said nothing, his expression softened into a sort of resigned understanding.

“Are you sure you’re in any condition to do that?” he finally asked as I was putting on my cloak with trembling limbs.

“No,” I responded shakily, walking out the door unarmed.

Once I was outside, the fresh air immediately took some of the edge off, and I walked a short ways before my legs gave out like a newborn deer’s and I flopped backward onto the grass. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, in and out several times until my breathing began to steady into something approaching normal.

This couldn’t go on any longer. I needed answers, some form of closure, someone to tell me straight to my face to get lost or die for all they cared, something more tangibly final than the memories that haunted me.

That night, I made a rash decision: I had to return home to see my parents.

When I eventually struggled to my feet and headed back inside, Bertrand was nowhere to be seen, but there was a mug of freshly brewed tea waiting on the table, the kettle still steaming on the stove as the crackling fire slowly burned out.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: 'Tis The Damn Season V

---

"Do you know what she's like?" "Huh?" "Well… do you have an idea what to expect?" "Hmm?"

"Are you even paying attention to me right now?" The younger girl asked abruptly, doe-eyes wide and blue as she looked balefully back at her companion. The confused look she got in return made her cheeks flush a soft shade of pink that didn't quite match up to her hair. "I was asking if you knew what the woman was like. The...the hunter. Like.. I've never met a hunter before, and aren't they supposed to be dangerous?"

Tems brows creased for a second, blue-grey eyes catching the light as the darker haired woman gave a short, sharp laugh. Bela tossed her hair back, brown waves tucking over her shoulder in a way that managed to look effortlessly chic like she'd never been able to do herself. "Hunters? Pssh. They talk a big game, but those I've dealt with? Rarely worth worrying about, and that was when I was a human."

"Yeah, but...but now wouldn't they...you know...be happy to kill you?" "Most would've been before, now I've got extra tricks up my sleeves though. Just like you."

"Well...I don't know about that," Tems mumbled quietly to herself as she fiddled with the edge of her choker impatiently. "I don't know if...that is, uh...I don't think I could hurt someone- someone who's a person and alive and-"

"Human. I get it." Bela's smile was comforting, and Tems found herself smiling shyly back under the other woman's supportive look. This was why she was so glad that the other demon had come along. Alone, she would've been terrified. "So, what was the question again?"

"Do you know what she's like?" Tems asked again, voice firmer and feeling more in control as she shifted her weight after a second of hesitation again, looking across at her friend as they waited at the edge of the parking lot. "I mean, whoever she is must be important if Cr- the King is sending her messages."

"Like I said, the hunters I used to run into weren't all that. Pretty much they're balding, middle aged men that are barely functioning alcoholics with too much flannel and death wishes," The other demon said thoughtfully, pulling a nail file from the air and starting to work on her already immaculate fingers. "There's only three that were worth any consideration, and I know two of them are already on fairly positive talking chit-chat levels with the good ol' boss man."

"Oh?" "You don't scheme to take down Lucifer together without getting some sort of working relationship sorted, right?" "I...I suppose not."

The other demon smiled at her gently, and Tems let out a small huff as she blushed again at the realisation she was being teased all over again. Just because her drive for ambition hadn't kicked in yet despite how long and just how spotless her record was, didn't mean she should always be getting teased about it. Kicking at the loose pebbles at the edge of the tarred parking lot as she fiddled with the edge of her choker, the redhead forced herself not to pout or sound too upset as she added sulkily, "You still didn't answer my question. Do you know what she's like?"

"Not personally," Bela replied quietly, picking at her pinky nail with renewed focus. "And I'd also never dealt with a female hunter. Didn't think there were that many around really, it's more of a dick-swinging contest."

"Oh, it definitely is." The unexpected voice made both demons jump, Bela dropping her nail file and Tems almost tripping on the uneven surface as she jerked her head over from looking at her friend to the short woman in front of her. "I mean, I'm still waitin' for my eight inch strap to arrive in the mail so I can participate, but I should match up or exceed the other guys' expectations then."

If the typical hunter was an older man reeking of cheap booze and dirty flannels like Bela's description had conjured for the younger demon, the person speaking to them was the complete opposite. Pretty and petite, but with clearly defined muscle under a casual mix of a floral print top and cut off jean shorts, the blonde was not like the other's answer to what hunters were like - even ignoring that she was a woman. The only things that set off any warning bells as Tems righted herself and tugged carefully at the wrist hems of her plain blue dress were the innocuous charm bracelet on one wrist and the sharp as a blade smile.

"Depending who you're competing with it probably would be-" "I thought it was a safe starting point. I don't need to beat them all, just some." "Seems like you likely would. Unless you know some giants."

"Only one." The blonde and Bela's banter took a few moments to sink through Tems shock to resonate and catch her attention again. There was a beat as the two others shared a common look before the shorter of the two added as sharply as her smile. "Can I help you loiterers?"

The demon pair shared an exchange of looks - Bela’s brow curved upwards for a long moment as Tems’ eyes darted between her companion and the staring blonde - before the older of the two gave a huff. “Well, the princess here’s been sent with a message for someone. I’m just here for some fresh air.”

“The what now?” There was a second as the shorter hunter’s eyes widened in confusion before she tilted her head the other direction. “Nevermind. Who’re you two after?”

“Joanna Harvelle.” “Ah, so me then.” “I kind of already worked that out, darling.” “Aren’t you clever. Now who the Hell, and while you’re at it what the Hell, are you two? And who’s sent you to find me?”

Tems shuffled awkwardly at the others’ exchange, biting on her lip for a moment as she considered just how scary such a small woman must be to not only be a hunter, but a hunter at that diminutive a size, and a hunter that had caused enough issues for the King to have sent a messenger to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, clinging to the thought that Crowley was fond of her and cared about her and wouldn’t risk her on some dangerous mission if this huntress was that scary. He had to be sure she’d be okay to send her and not someone else, right? Or maybe he just didn’t trust anyone else with the information - not that she understood that point much of her message at all.

“Um, we’re- well, you got it kind of right. Uh, my name is Tempest, and this is Bela-” Tems finally found her voice, shaky though it was, as she opened her eyes and looked back down towards the shorter woman. She jerked a hand up, gesturing towards her friend and chanced a look to see the older demon giving a slightly haughty look at the other, before returning to fiddling at her sleeve cuffs. “We were sent by the King- um, by Crowley the King of the Crossroads?” Her voice trailed off as she hoped for any sign of recognition from the woman, and prepared herself to smoke away at the first sign of violence.

While it wasn’t violence, she definitely saw the flash of awareness followed immediately by a twist and pursing of the hunter’s lips, something that seemed so innocuous but sent a slight shiver down her back at noticing it.

“Oh, that fuckin’ bastard, huh?” Joanna’s voice was harsh and rough as she shifted her weight and even took a full step back from the pair, eyes running over them as if sizing them up before pulling herself back up into her fullest height and a cocky smirk crossed her face. “What’s that asshole want? He finally want’ta accept his defeat gracefully? Want to know if I’ma send his drunken ass somewhere other than Hell next time I see him?”

Tems’ cheeks flushed hotly at the other’s words - the crassness catching her off guard from a sweet looking woman, as well as the obvious hatred setting through her tone - before dropping her eyes down to her shoes rather than dare to stare the other down. “N- no, that’s not what he, uh, said.”

“Oh? Well now I am curious what the fuck he wants.” “He, um, wanted to confirm if we- that is, like, crossroads demons - could go back to operating in the area if called.”

“Huh?”

“Something was taking us out, hunter,” Bela cut over the top of Tems’ trying to work out what to say to that question. She’d not been privy to the exact issue, Crowley’s keeping her usually from a lot of the other demons as his favorite but also not sharing the issues that the other redeyes whispered about to each other, but the dark haired demon definitely knew more about it than Tems did. “Whenever we came in this state pretty much. Crowley’d negotiated a, shall we say, cease-fire but it also left an entire area of crossroads with little deals popping up being not serviced or only serviced with those...disposable demons.”

“So you mean all of you?” “Oh, like you hunters are any less so. Bunch of sociopathic, blood-thirsty vicious-”

The blonde shook her head at Bela’s hissed outburst, throwing her head back with a harsh laugh before shaking it again and giving a quiet sigh. “So, you’re here cause Crowley wants me to do him a favor, huh?”

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again at the realisation that was the truth, and even further - her skin glowing redder still that she was sure it would match her hair if she looked in the mirror - to realise that that’s why he’d sent her for this. Crowley chose his best negotiator, he trusted her to be the one to be able to deliver not only the message but deliver on it. That was pressure. A lot of pressure. And pressure that left her tugging at her sleeves as she shrugged a shoulder at the question and dropped her eyes rather than look at the curious look she was being given by her friend. Bela was a good demon, there was a reason Tems enjoyed her company, but this was her task.

“He does.” The redhead said gently, sucking in a breath sharply as she gave a final nervous tug at her sleeves before looking up towards the sneering huntress. “I, uh, look I don’t know what the situation might be between yourself and the King, but, like, he had hoped that we’d be able to come to an agreement of sorts.”

The blonde paused as if considering the words, before her sneer shifted into a wide smirk that screamed danger towards Tems. “Oh, I’d sure love to hear what he might have to even try to organise. Ya know what?”

“Hmm?”

“You tell that asshole, and in these words exactly-” Joanna’s eyes had a shine to them that unsettled her. It was like the fleeting times she had spotted some of the older, more vicious and powerful demons around, that exuded power and cruelty in their looks only, that would send little redeyes like them scurrying away within moments. But she couldn’t drop her eyes as she looked back at the blonde even if she wanted to. She needed to deliver this message, she needed to succeed or at least ensure the best negotiation she could for Crowley, she couldn’t fail the man that put his trust in her. The hunter smirked wider, teeth white and sharp. “-That if he wants to work out some details, he can come talk to me himself at a very specific blade point. Then maybe I might be so nice as to consider considerin’ helping him. For I am a benevolent God. ...You got that?”

Tems could see her friend nodding from her peripheral as she nodded her head too, something about how simple the words were making her feel like they held far more meaning to them for the blonde and likely for Crowley than they sounded like. Glancing to the side, she saw Bela’s brows creasing as well, before she darted a look back to the blonde.

The hunter’s smirk had slowly shifted at their nods, her mouth pulled into a slight frown instead and those eyes that flashed with that dangerous edge had softened as she seemed to look between the two demons for a moment before shrugging. “If he has an issue with that, tell him I said he could stick it up his own ass rather than takin’ it out on your two too, okay?” Joanna’s words didn’t sound particularly nice or caring, but at the same time, Tems thought it sounded like an apology as well. “Can’t help what ya’s have become, so don’t let him hold what I’ve got to say ‘gainst you.”

Frowning slightly, Tems felt her head nodding again before her mind had even had a chance to catch up to what she was saying. It was something Tems wasn’t sure she felt was fair either - she knew she’d made a deal as a child before she knew right from wrong really but she could have helped from condemning herself, and the same could be said for her friend even if her situation had been all the worse.

“Say,” The hunter’s voice cut through Tems’ morose thoughts then, brown eyes wide and curious instead as she glanced between the pair of demons. “Why’d he send you two anyways?”

“I’m just here to stretch my legs, actually.” Bela quipped back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she looked back at the other. “I don’t suppose you know what it’s like down there-”

“More like Dante’s or like Paradise Lost?” “Depends where you are, actually.” “Given Mr Would-Be-King sent you, I’m guessin’ you’re both redders?” “So the areas a lot less… screaming than the rest, yes.”

The back and forth had shifted somewhere from aggressively judging into a swift pattern of give and take, before the hunter gave a shrug of her shoulders - a peek of sun-kissed tan skin that spoke volumes of the difference between a sun filled life to the dank of a cold afterlife. “Hmm, I don’t suppose Dean or Sammy could confirm that then - not that anyone wants to ever talk ‘bout it.”

“Oh, you know those two?” There was an edge in Bela’s tone as she spoke, and Tems tilted her head curiously before reaching out and taking her friend’s hand. “Don’t suppose they’ve grown any hearts since I knew them, hmm?”

“When was that?” “Dean was on his count-down clock, and can’t say I’m not a little sad that I missed out on seein’ him downstairs.”

“Hmm? Ouch, that’s harsh.” “Well, if they wouldn’t help out a girl in need - they deserve harsh.”

Tems squeezed her friend’s hand tighter then, trying to send through what kind of support she could to the other. Dying and knowing it was coming for you was not something that could be understood other than by those who’d experienced it first hand, and the desperation in those last few months, weeks, days and hours couldn’t be faulted. Sharing a supportive look with her friend, the younger demon shifted a little closer unconsciously as if it would help any.

“Can’t say they’re fans of it still, I’ve had to beg them a few times before they’ll pull on up. But perhaps I just get their softer side than others do.” The hunter’s voice was soft, and Tems could see that her face was equally soft as she looked between the two demons before tilting her head curiously. “That wasn’t all that long ago, surprised you’re already...high enough… to be on any sort of terms with the fuckin’ dumbass.” There was a blink where both demons’ looked back at her in confusion before the blonde clarified, “I mean Crowley. Being what - King of the Crossroads? Heh, bet he hated that little downgrade. He makin’ the most of holding any sort of power then, huh?”

“He has been, uh, more attentive to us, that’s true.” The redhead replied this time, noting that her friend was still clearly stuck digesting the information regarding the other hunters she’d known in life. That they were both alive seemingly was causing some confusion for her, and Tems would have to talk to Bela later about it. “He’s a very good King.”

“And a very good sort of asshole too.” Joanna chirped back with a smirk, rolling her eyes, before fixing them onto Tems. “So, she’s new and you’re the messenger. That makes you older, right?”

“Oh, oh no.” Tems felt herself flushing at that misunderstanding. “I… that is, Bela has been around longer than myself but I, uh, I’m good at my job.”

“Oh, so you’re useful. Hmm.” “Crowley is very complimentary to me.” “Best watch yourself or he’ll be more than complimentary.” “He’d never!”

Tems had not been that shocked before than at hearing the implication from the hunter before her. It was one thing for other demons - those who knew Crowley and the way he was - to assume things, and another for someone she’d never met before make the suggestion that that could happen. That she seemed to know it wasn’t already though - the warning in those brown eyes and that gentle tone - was almost as shocking.

“No?” Joanna’s brows creased for a second as she seemed to be thinking before fixing her with another look instead. Eyes fixated on the black necklace around her neck. “She called you ‘princess’ before, right? Crowley dotin’ on you like a daddy, and not the sugar type, huh?”

Her cheeks felt all warm again, and she tugged her hand from her friend’s now comforting grip to tug awkwardly at the collar of her dress with a quiet cough, as if to cover her choker. It wasn’t exactly right but it was also not wrong either - Crowley protected her and clearly cared about her as more than just for her successes; but that wasn’t exactly how it felt for her. “I- He’s- It’s not totally like that.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll fuck up sometime soon enough.” The blonde’s words sounded sharper for a moment then, and looking up from her shoes, Tems was surprised to see something else to the woman’s eyes all over again. Not the hatred and fire from before, the dangerous thread of a threat earlier, or even the detached sympathy towards Bela when they’d discussed some mutual acquaintances. It confused her to see something more akin to compassion and actual empathy directed towards her from someone who should for all intents be pointing a gun in her face or reciting some exorcism to send her back where she came from. “Perhaps he’ll be better with you and learn from his previous mistakes, loosen up that stick from his ass to let you have your own life. Seems you’re allowed other friends at least, so maybe…” There was a pause, and Tems felt herself frowning in confusion as the words seemed to seep into her mind and bounce about confusingly as the blonde’s eyes flickered between the demonic pair and then back to meet her own gaze steadily. “Maybe you’ll be better off, and he ain’t all that bad. He's not always an asshole, not entirely...”

By the time she finished chewing the thought over though, the blonde woman was halfway across the parking lot back towards the rough looking building as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Thanks!” She heard herself calling out, and jerked all over again in surprise to see the blonde spin about and wave a friendly hand towards them as she called back as well “No problem! Next time, just knock.” before the sound of laughter cut through the air again.

It was something Tems realised, as she turned back to her friend and then tugged on that part of herself that was that intrinsic part that let her disappear from one place and appear in another, that had been missing. The sound of carefree laughter and the loss of it was ringing in her head as she found herself returning to the figurative darkness of the underworld, pondering if maybe she would get another chance to head back up and maybe negotiate again, maybe even get to make the sound herself next time.

---