#there's still shades of what he could have been present in the larger story but over all he's pretty chill

[grey-eyed-menace]

It smells like cigarettes and alcohol.

Nathaniel's expression is distinctly pinched in distaste at the smell, and Asher is vaguely reminded of all the times they've had to deal with Lord Verrine in the last few weeks, the expression not unlike what he showed during the times they had to deal with his Lord Father.

It probably doesn't help that this is a brothel, small and unassuming, a bar as a front, the girls descreet, she and Nathaniel look incredibly out of place amongst the patrons at this time of day, as few as there are.

The pale, impossibly frail, young woman and the disgusted redhead, wonderful work they were doing.

[akitokihojo]

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

[floral-and-fine]

Linger Part 2

Beorn x female reader

Part 1

Summary: Beorn worries about the reader’s safety shortly after meeting her and the company.

A/n: Thinking about writing a third part. Sorry, this took so long. Thank you @luna-xial​ for helping me stay motivated!

The woods had been abnormally quiet lately, the air was still and all the woodland creatures appeared to be in hiding, there was no rustling in the trees and all the birds had stopped singing. 

Beorn hadn’t encountered any orcs either nor seen any sign of them for the last several nights now. However, he continued his patrols, making his rounds, keeping an eye out for any clue that would hint at what the orcs were planning. Their absence was an eerie one, a sign that something terrible was going to happen. 

Beorn wasn’t a fool, he knew their disappearance coinciding with the dwarves retaking their home was anything but a coincidence. 

He knew their little venture was a risky one, especially with Azog's interest in Thorin. No telling how far the orc would go to end the Durin line. 

He growled, wrinkling his snout as he prowled through the forest on all fours, the idea of you getting caught in the crossfire between Azog and the dwarves, angered him. He feared the worst would happen to you as a result of it. 

Beorn had, on occasion since your departure, imagined what it would’ve been like if you had stayed. What it would be like to have your company in the evening, your presence nearby as he worked, to be able to listen to you talk and laugh. 

He had been without companionship for so long, after the pain of losing his people, he avoided anyone other than his animals. Who would've guessed had become so lonely? That deep down he longed to be close to someone again?

As Beorn traveled to higher ground, he froze when he realized that in the distance a massive army of Orcs was marching towards the lonely mountain. With an army of that size, there would surely be a massacre. 

His choice seemed clear at this point, he would need to travel quickly to the Lonely Mountain if he was going to be of any help. 

…

Beorn staggered forward, his body shifting from bear to man. He fell to the ground, barely able to hold himself upon his hands, groaning as every bone in his body changed shape and readjusted position. 

The battle had been chaos, Beorn and the eagles arrived just moments after the orcs struck. Without hesitation he had joined the fight, biting and clawing his way through, while keeping a hopeful eye out for you. However, there had been no sign of you with the dwarves. 

Once the fighting had finally ended, and the remaining orcs had fled, Beorn resumed his search, even fiercer than before. 

Getting back on his feet, he grabbed a discarded banner and wrapped it around his hips, and held it up with his left hand.  Men and elves gawked over his size, watching as he stumbled towards the camps. 

His bones and muscles ached from transforming in such quick succession, his energy drained from fighting, but he was desperate to find you. 

Beorn pressed on, limping forward, passing by nameless faces belonging to men, elves, and dwarves. His eyes searching for any sign of you. Many thoughts crossed his mind, should he remain hopeful that he’d find you alive and well or brace himself for the worst should he find you dead or not at all?

“Y/n,” he called from the center of the camp, his eyes darting back and forth. 

Tilda, Bard’s youngest, spotted the giant man calling for you. Too intimidated to approach him herself, she decided to find you for him instead.

She quickly made her way around the tents and rumble of the old city, finally finding you speaking with her father. 

“Y/n,” she said, tugging on your sleeve drawing your attention away from Bard. 

“Yes?” You chirped. 

“Someone’s looking for you.”

You furrowed your brow, “Who is?”

She shrugged, “no idea, never seen anyone like him.”

Filled with curiosity, you followed Tilda. You had no clue as to who would come looking for you, you had already seen the company. 

You stopped dead in your tracks upon seeing a very bewildered and naked Beorn calling out for you. 

Beorn?” You shouted, still utterly surprised to see the skin-changer here of all places.

He spun around and the moment he saw you alive and well, he collapsed to his knees. Without thinking, you rushed to his side and knelt down beside him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked immediately, his large hand cupping your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you shook your head with a small smile. “it’s you who needs tending to.” You looked behind you towards your tent, then back to Beorn, “Are you able to walk?”

He nodded, wincing as he rose to his feet. You guided him forward towards your tent and helped him settle down on the blankets. 

“You weren’t you with the dwarves...” he started, groaning as he laid down. 

“It’s a long story,” you sighed, preparing to tend to Beorn’s various cuts and bruises.

“I’ve got time,” he encouraged. 

You laughed. “I suppose you're right… well, after our encounter with the elves, we met Bard, who was kind enough to smuggle us into Lake-Town,” you began, wrapping his hand with a bandage. 

“Thorin offered the townsfolk a share of the mountain's riches for their help. I stayed behind when they departed... Kili had fallen ill, I offered to stay and help care for him.”

Beorn listened intently to your story. His eyes observing you carefully as you effortlessly talked and worked at the same time. 

You explained how Bard and his son slayed Smaug, and how you rejoined the rest of the dwarves, but by then Thorin had succumbed to the Dragon Sickness.

“He had become so cruel,” you continued, cleaning a long scratch on Beorn’s forearm. “the rest of the company was concerned for him as well.”

You sighed, setting the rag down and retrieving a salve.  “I believe what Bilbo did was justified, so when Thorin called Bilbo a traitor, I left too and joined the others,” you shrugged. 

During most of the battle, you were with Bard’s children, trying your best to protect them, despite not being much of a fighter. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Beorn said softly, looking up at you. 

“What about you?” You asked, lifting your brow. “I can't imagine that you were anxious to help the dwarves out again.”

He looked away for a moment, before quietly answering. “I’m here for you,” he said with a serious look. 

“For me?” You stuttered, wide-eyed.

He nodded, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” You smiled, lightly pushing back his hair from his face and stroking his cheek tenderly, as you admired the rather gentle skin-changer.

 “Now, sweet man, get some rest,” you urged, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Beorn fell asleep easily enough, in fact, the sound of his snoring could be heard from all corners of the camp. 

He had traveled quite a distance in such a short amount of time, then immediately fought his way through an army of orcs just for you. The thought alone made you feel as though you were floating. 

Quietly, you tiptoed out of the tent in search of fabric. You doubted any of the spare clothing here would fit him, he was far taller and larger than most of the men at the camp. 

It was dark out when you returned, Beorn was still sleeping soundly in your tent. You found the sound of his snores oddly comforting. The nights here and on your travels had been far too quiet for your liking, making you feel rather lonely at night. 

Sitting in the corner by a lit candle,  you worked on using spare fabric to make Beorn some pants. You couldn’t imagine what people had thought seeing him wandering around practically naked. 

Your face heated up as you pictured him standing there with nothing but a raggedy scrap of cloth to cover himself with. He was an attractive man in a wild sort of way, muscular with untamed hair. 

Lost in your thoughts, you accidentally stabbed your finger with the needle, hissing you sucked on your fingertip to help with the pain. 

Beorn stirred at the sound, “are you alright?”

“You heard that?” You perked up. 

“Mmhmm,” he answered, still partially asleep. “I can hear the mice outside the tent scurrying about, and even the horses braying in the distance.”

“That’s quite amazing,” you noted. 

He laughed lowly, “I suppose it is… what are you doing up so late Busy Bee?” 

“Just need to finish something first.”

He closed his eyes again, “you should be sleeping.”

“I will shortly,” you smiled, running the needle through the fabric again as you worked on finishing the seam. 

…

Beorn stared at you with an unreadable expression, his eyes focused on the pants you were currently holding out towards him. 

“It’s not my best work,” you started, fidgeting slightly. “But I figured it had to be better than nothing. I guessed your measurements, and I think they’ll fit at least well enough for you to walk around the camp, and if they’re too loose, I can take them in a bit. That wouldn’t take too long, I suppose.”

You continued to ramble as Beorn sat there somehow quieter than usual. This gift presented an odd dilemma with it. 

You made something for him, you had considered his needs and worked almost all night on it. According to skin-changer traditions, this could be considered a marriage proposal, a symbol of you willing to provide for him. 

Of course, he was aware that you were unfamiliar with skin-changer practices, but that still didn’t make this any easier on him. As the last of his kind, he was the last to maintain their customs and traditions.

“I’m afraid I cannot accept,” Beorn finally admitted.

Your shoulders slumped, your hands lowering, “why? I made them for you.”

Beorn sighed, “For skin-changers giving gifts is a romantic gesture to put it lightly.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, feeling rather embarrassed. 

The truth was you wouldn’t mind becoming romantically involved with Beorn, it wasn’t something you had given much thought to. But you couldn’t deny the attraction that was there. 

Not sure what else to do, you went about your day as he continued to rest. 

It didn’t take long for Beorn to heal, by the second day he looked as good as new. 

He sighed, sitting in your tent alone with his thoughts. He had no excuse to stay any longer, the animals at home needed him to return. He accomplished what he had set out to do, he fought orcs, found you safe and sound. It was time for him to leave. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted to leave, and he was completely aware of why he didn’t want to leave you. 

"Beorn?" You said lightly shuffling inside the tent, and successfully drawing him from his thoughts.

His intense gaze falling upon you. “Yes, little bee?”

You inhaled deeply and held out the pants to him again.

His brow furrowed, “y/n-“

“I know,” you interrupted him. “But please hear me out, my feelings for you are rather new, but I’ve traveled a long way to get here, and of all the amazing and terrifying places I had seen, the only one I wanted to return to was your home.” 

Your heart was racing, your face was flush, and you didn’t dare meet his gaze, instead, you stared at the ground praying he’d say something.

Suddenly you felt his fingers lightly brush against yours as he accepted your gift. 

Your head snapped up, as you looked at him with big eyes. A content smile formed on his lips as he leaned down and his forehead touched yours gently nuzzling against it while his large hands softly caressed your arms. 

“We’ll depart in the morning,” he whispered. 

[asweetprologue]

Geralt decides to retire to Toussaint. He takes Jaskier with him.

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retirement, Getting Together, Domestic, Fluff

I promise I’m still writing stuff!! this is a soft little one shot I wrote a while ago and just cleaned up. read on tumblr below the cut!

In the end, it’s the weariness that does him in.

Once when they were both younger men, Jaskier had asked him about retirement for witchers. If they retreated to Kaer Morhen in their old age to train the new pups, or if they settled down across the Continent, or gave up the hunt to have families of their own. Geralt had snorted. “We don’t retire,” he’d said, mixing potion ingredients by the light of their camp fire. Jaskier had looked at him with wide, curious eyes. “We get old, and slow, and something kills us. We don’t - buy seaside cottages, or whatever.”

Jaskier had hummed at that, a mournful note that seemed to resonate in the air. It was unfair, Geralt had thought, that his friend managed to convey so much in such a sound while the witcher always managed to say so little. “Seems a bit unfair,” Jaskier added.

Geralt had blown out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s life, bard.”

But now, three decades and countless battles older, he just felt tired. Jaskier no longer traveled with him as frequently, and the Path was a lonely place. He and his brothers no longer met at Kaer Morhen to winter, not once Vesemir had passed. They would stop occasionally to meet up on the road, but never for too long. Even Ciri was going her own way nowadays, though he saw her the most frequently. As the years wore on, Geralt found himself visiting Oxenfurt more and more often. Itching for companionship, for a cease in the ever grinding motion of the Path. The routine that had once been a comfort was now grating.

Maybe it was time to take a break.

It was with this mentality that he turned to Jaskier on the last day of his stay in Oxenfurt and said, “Come to Toussaint with me.”

Jaskier blinked at him owlishly, the expression making him look ten years younger. These days his hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and when he chose to grow out a beard it was as silver as Geralt’s. “What’s so important in Toussaint?” he asked. They were seated at a table in the rooms Jaskier had been provided, for accepting a temporary lecturing position. The term had ended a few weeks ago, hence Geralt’s visit. Jaskier shuffled his gwent deck as he spoke, the cards weaving together like a cascade. Geralt found himself watching the bard’s slim fingers dance through the motions with an old fascination.

“I have an estate there,” he replied, pulling his gaze from the cards. He meant to look Jaskier in the eye, but a brief moment of contact with the bright cerulean had him turning his head, his heartbeat growing ever so slightly faster. It was too hard to ask this if he could see Jaskier’s face. Instead, he looked out the small window, overlooking the red tiled roofs of Oxenfurt. The city was painted a rich gold in the light of the evening sun, reflected warmly off of the river beyond the docks.

Jaskier spluttered across the table. “You have an estate? Since when?”

Geralt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “It was payment for a job,” he said. “There’s a vineyard, gardens. I can send word ahead for them to start renovations on the guest bedroom. Come with me,” he said again, softly. He wasn’t above begging, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Jaskier looked at him with a confused but affectionate look spread across his fine features, and said, “Okay.”

~

Geralt sent a letter ahead to warn the staff of their plans to summer at the estate, and they began their journey to the Duchy.

It was a long journey, but not an arduous one. For once, Geralt allowed them to stick to the main roads, and at this time of year even Velen was bearable. The sweeping fields spread out around them in swaths of green and gold, punctuated here and there by defiant patches of wildflowers. Jaskier wasn’t as quick as he used to be following Geralt on the Path, but they weren’t on the Path anymore. They purchased a second horse and rode side by side at a leisurely pace. When the day grew hot, they would post up in a convenient spot of shade and let the horses graze, lunching on sun warmed bread and sweetmeats. Jaskier rambled the hours away with stories of his students and old antics at Oxenfurt, and Geralt responded with his own tales of hunts and growing up in the keep with his brothers. It was good to have another voice on the road again after months of traveling alone. It was good that it was Jaskier. Geralt had missed him. Once he wouldn’t have been able to admit it, even to himself, but it seemed silly now to hide it. A wall put up against someone who had been inside for years.

They slept beneath the stars and in cramped inns, sharing small spaces like they had for decades. It was different, Geralt thought. Something had released in his shoulders when Jaskier had agreed to come with him. They weren’t in a rush - there were no contracts to fill, no galas to play at. Jaskier’s purse was heavy from his time spent lecturing, and Geralt was able to pick up a few simple contracts as they went. Easy jobs that would put some extra coin in his pocket and lift the tension from the shoulders of the locals. But for the most part it was just the two of them, drinking sweet summer mead and browsing morning markets, getting accustomed to each other’s presence again.

Sitting across the fire from him one night as they camped, Jaskier said, “You’re different, you know.”

Geralt lifted his head from where he’d been skinning the pheasants for supper. “Hmm?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, maybe not that different.” At Geralt’s odd look, he went on. “You told me once that witchers never change. That they’re set in their ways. I think you were talking about something like your potions routine when you said it at the time, but I thought it applied to the whole of the witcher experience.”

Geralt hummed again. “It’s true. We age slowly. Get set in our habits.”

“But you changed,” Jaskier said. “I’ve seen it. After Ciri, and now, since we’ve left Oxenfurt. You’re different.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. They’d never been on the road together like this, just the two of them as companions. Before Geralt had been focused on the Path, and Jaskier had been cataloguing his deeds as if he were some kind of hero of legend. He knew Jaskier admired Geralt’s drive, his ability to push on towards the next contract. Maybe the bard would think less of him, knowing that he was content to leave the Path behind for so long. “I’m still me,” he said aloud.

Jaskier gave him another smile, warm and honeyed. “I know it’s you, daft man,” he said. “It’s good. To see you… put down the torch for a bit.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave an agreeable rumble in his chest. And then, because he’d spent so long learning how to use his words around his daughter, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaskier.”

A brief moment of surprise passed over Jaskier’s features, his eyes widening. Though Geralt had become better at voicing his affections over the years, he knew that the bard was always taken aback by the behavior. After a second Jaskier’s smile became a grin, and Geralt felt something in him relax even further. “I’m glad to be here, my friend. You know I can’t resist an adventure.”

~

They arrived in Toussaint quickly after that, both eager to end their days on the road. The countryside spread out around them slowly transformed from the muted colors of the north into the vibrant greens, purples and reds of the vineyards and forests. Geralt always forgot how stunning the Duchy was, with its colorful houses and flashy clothes. For once Jaskier fit in with the crowd flawlessly; it would take more than a bright doublet to stand out in Toussaint. Geralt had always liked it here. The peasants tended to be less prejudiced against non-humans, witchers included, and the knights he’d met always treated him as a brother in arms rather than pest control. The winters were mild and the summers sweet, and the wines were rich even if they were impossible for him to pronounce at times.

Of course Jaskier proved to be fluent in the local language - “What do you think the Seven Liberal Arts even entail, Geralt?” - which was helpful when they passed through smaller villages. Those away from the common crossroads or larger settlements tended to have fewer people who spoke the common northern tongue. They made their way to Geralt’s estate through a series of inns, barns and guest bedrooms as Jaskier relentlessly charmed the locals in grandiose displays of hospitality.

As they approached the estate, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop at the top of a hill. “This is it,” he said, nodding to indicate the view.

Jaskier gaped, craning to look out over the small collection of buildings and the dozens and dozens of grapevines that were nestled in the valley below. Geralt could see several workers out tending to the fields; his majordomo must have been overseeing things as agreed upon. They would have to get to know the rest of the staff while they were here. “This is all yours?” Jaskier asked, snapping Geralt’s attention back to the present.

“The house, most of the fields. I’ve not paid all that much attention to it before now, honestly. The house needs work. Never had any reason to sink funds into it before now.” He’d sent a fair sum of gold ahead to Barnabas-Basil to get started on renovations, but it likely would have only been enough to make the main complex habitable. Geralt was confident that he could undertake much of the repairs himself, in time. It would be good to have a project.

“It’s expansive. You produce wine here?” Jaskier asked, turning back towards him.

“Yes, but you’ll have to ask the majordomo which ones.”

Jaskier nodded to himself as they continued down the hill, soon approaching the main gate to the small villa. Members of the staff bustled throughout the property, though many stopped to look as the two of them passed by. As they settled their horses near a storage shed, the majordomo approached them, apparently already made aware of their arrival.

“Ah, Master Geralt, I trust that your travels were smooth? Please, come inside - I will have someone come and tend to the horses.” Barnabas-Basil Foulty was a clean shaven, bald man with sharp, almost bird-like features, and the head of the estate in Geralt’s stead. He stood at perfect attention at all times, shoulders back and head held high. A proud man, if not also an extremely polite one. Geralt liked him immensely, because he was good at his job and could keep up in the cups the one time the two had drank together.

“Ah, this must be the famous Barnabas-Basil. Fantastic to finally meet your acquaintance, my good man,” Jaskier said, jumping in to give the majordomo’s hand a firm shake. “Geralt has praised your skills from here to Redania and back.”

Barnabas-Basil inclined his head towards Geralt, though his spine did not stray an inch. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words. Please, allow me to show you the progress that we have made on the main house so you might get settled.”

The domo walked them through the estate, giving Jaskier a brief tour and pointing out new additions to Geralt. He’d not been to the estate in at least two years, but it was clear that the workers were making good use of the space. The small collection of colorful houses down the road had fresh coats of paint, and children played in the courtyard below the main house. A garden flourished in the space between the manor and the vineyard, dominated by root vegetables and herbs.

“If you would like, we can have it cleared out so that you might use it for your own purposes,” Barnabas-Basil said. His face betrayed no feelings on the issue.

Geralt grunted. “No need. The staff can use it as they wish.” He refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze as the bard beamed at him proudly. After decades of friendship Jaskier still seemed to find it a delight anytime Geralt did something he thought was particularly chivalrous. Geralt was not eager for him to meet the knights, with their virtues and heroic deeds.

The house, as he suspected, was functional but only just. “We’ve done what we could in a short amount of time, sir,” Barnabas-Basil said, his tone politely apologetic. “I assure you renovations are far from complete.”

“It’s fantastic,” Jaskier said, already darting off to explore the other rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and an upstairs loft that could be made into a second bedroom. The additional bed wouldn’t arrive for another week or two.

“We can share,” Geralt said without looking at Jaskier, and did not elaborate further. “Show me what else needs done.”

~

They fell quickly into a routine. Geralt spent his days working with the locals on renovations, slowly breathing vitality back into the old manor. When he grew tired of working with lumber, he waded into the vineyards, to help pluck the delicate grapes from their twisting vines. A pair of women admonished him for his sloppy work on the first day and taught him how to gently cut the branches away and check the grapes for ripeness. Jaskier fluctuated between helping out with the building work and composing, though he also made the occasional day trip into the city to perform. In the evening they would retire to the house to eat, drink and chat over games of cards. At night they would curl up in Geralt’s bed, as they had when sharing quarters on the road.

It was a strange new intimacy, to learn what Jaskier was like in his bed. They had shared bedrolls many times over the years, but never with any consistency. When the nights were too cold or the inn too full, they would sigh and grumble and agree to share a space for the night, as a matter of convenience. But as soon as they had the coin or the resources to do so, they would always put distance between themselves again. Geralt supposed it had been a kind of self preservation instinct, but he now found little threat in the warmth of Jaskier next to him at night. He learned that some days Jaskier woke before the sunrise, throwing himself out of bed in a tangle of limbs to scramble for a quill. Other days he slept late, sprawled out across the sheets and dozing until the heat of the day forced him up. Often Geralt woke to the bard curled around him, an arm thrown across his broad chest, nose tucked under the witcher’s jaw. Those times always made something tighten in Geralt’s throat. No one should trust a witcher like Jaskier did, but he was grateful for the bard’s foolishness. Jaskier had always believed that Geralt would keep him safe, even when the witcher had refused to even admit that they were friends. Jaskier deserved better, but it didn’t stop Geralt from turning into his warmth each morning, wishing to reach out.

When the second bed came, Jaskier made no effort to relocate to the guest room. Geralt didn’t bring it up.

It only took a month for him to openly think about it, but when he finally did he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. He looked up from where he was carving a notch in a new post for one of the fences and saw Jaskier sitting on the steps of the manor, the end of his quill hovering near his lips. His mouth moved around abstract syllables as he reached for the next lyric in a new song. The soft, repetitive notes rose and fell in the still summer air, and Geralt could see a small spot of ink on Jaskier’s cheek where he’d tapped himself with the quill by accident. Later that night, Geralt would point it out and they would both laugh, and Jaskier would play at being angry Geralt hadn’t brought it up sooner, and then Geralt would offer to help him clean up. Jaskier looked up from his place on the stairs and met his eye, feeling the attention on him as he always did. When he saw Geralt looking he smiled, as brightly as if he’d not seen the witcher in months, instead of moments. Geralt’s chest swelled with an unspeakable feeling, thick and heady affection and trust and something else even beyond that, and he thought, Oh, I love him.

~

Geralt suggested a picnic. Jaskier was ecstatic, though he tried to act as if he had to consider the notion.

“Will there be wine?” he asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, fondly exasperated, “we live on a vineyard.”

So they grabbed some bottles from the storeroom, packed a light cotton blanket and some food leftover from lunch and set off up the nearby hill. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the top, but once they did they were quite near the place they’d first stopped to look over the estate. It was nearing evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and making the shadows of the workers coming in stretch out long across the fields. The two men spread out their things, sitting to watch the landscape move below them as they uncorked one of the bottles.

Geralt let Jaskier chatter away about nothing for a while, letting the sound wash over him as they shared the bread and wine. After a while Jaskier fell quiet, leaving them both to gaze out at the beauty of the land around them. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier. The sweep of his brow, the soft bow of his lips. The smattering of freckles he’d collected from weeks on the road, lying in fields and letting the sun kiss his cheeks. To be jealous of the sun, Geralt thought wryly.

Jaskier turned to meet his gaze, realizing that he was being watched. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why did you come with me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier chuckled a bit, leaning back on one hand. His shirt was unlaced a ways down the front, leaving his dark chest hair exposed. Geralt wanted to put his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe there for a while. “I’m not one to turn down a free holiday, my dear.”

“No,” Geralt said, trying to ignore the way the pet name made his stomach flip. “I mean, why did you always come with me? Everyone… People come and go. But you always came back. Why?”

Jaskier gave him an admonishing look. Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. “You know the answer to that,” he said, and his tone held a warning that the witcher didn’t understand.

“I know you value our friendship,” Geralt replied, “but I could say that of many. It’s not the same.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, his face full of fondness and exasperation and, strangely, an old sort of grief. “You truly are the most unobservant man in the land. You’ve been far more than a friend to me for many years.”

Geralt felt his heart rate pick up at that, the slow thud speeding up to match Jaskier’s. “You’re saying…” He found himself unable to complete the thought. Even after so many years of trying to do better, it was still impossible to form words past the thundering in his ears. This moment felt delicate, like the wrong phrase might shatter it apart.

“I assumed you knew,” Jaskier said with a shrug. The line of his shoulders was just slightly too tense, his body radiating faux casualness. Anyone else may have been fooled, but Geralt had been watching Jaskier for years. “I would never have let it change anything between us, you must know that. You were always involved with someone else - Yennefer, and then Triss and Shani… I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Something that could make you happy.”

“I thought it would,” Geralt said honestly. His gaze flickered over Jaskier’s impassive face. The bard rarely showed his nerves in his expressions, too much a performer for that. Instead it made its way to his hands, twitching over his thighs and worrying the fabric of the blanket, and his heart, which raced in his chest. “I wanted to be the right person for them. Yen wanted me to be useful. Triss wanted me to be a knight in shining armor. They made me feel like I was better than just a witcher.” Jaskier’s lovely mouth twisted slightly, a note of bitterness in his gaze as he looked out over the vineyards. Geralt hurried on. “But you’re the one who made me feel like being a witcher was already good enough.”

Jaskier turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “Well of course it is,” he said, and naturally the bard had missed the point, honing in on his favorite subject: the reputation of witchers and Geralt’s sense of self worth. “You’re already useful, and noble, and good and kind besides all that. You don’t have to be more than what you are to deserve - fuck, basic human connection and love.” He settled slightly, his gesturing hands falling into his lap once more. “Is that why you left them?”

“The Path always calls,” Geralt said with a shrug. “No one but you ever wanted to follow me.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing. Geralt watched the color rise up over his cheek bones with something like fascination, or maybe hunger. “Well, now you know why,” he continued, with obviously false cheer. He gave Geralt a rueful smile. “I promise I won’t make things awkward. I’ve had decades to practice. I mean, it’s been thirty years. If you were going to fall in love with me you probably would have done so already, hmm?”

“You’d think so,” Geralt agreed. “Sorry it took me so long.” And then he leaned into Jaskier’s space and kissed him.

It wasn’t a very good kiss. Barely a kiss at all, really, considering that Jaskier had frozen under him. Geralt pulled back, lifting a hand to run it gently over Jaskier’s side. The bard was absolutely still, his eyes closed tight. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that Geralt wanted to kiss away, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. It was unfair that a man could have beautiful eyelashes, Geralt mused, but here they were. “You mustn’t toy with me, witcher,” Jaskier croaked. His voice was raw, as if he’d been singing for hours.

Geralt moved his hand to the bard’s face, his thumb following along the line of his jaw and up to trace across his cheekbone. Freckles like stars under his fingers. “I’m not,” he rumbled. “I swear it, Jaskier. I just -” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You were always there. No matter how shitty the Path was, or how miserable people were to you because of me, or how much I pushed you away. You stayed. You made me feel like I was worth something, and you made other people think that way too. Every day without you on the Path was always misery. I should have realized sooner, but I’m not… good at this. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s head dropped forward, his brow resting on Geralt’s collarbone. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the span of a minute,” he said, voice thin. “This is a lot to take in. Are you saying that you… that you love me? You, Geralt of Rivia, are in love with me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, smiling into Jaskier’s hair. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Jaskier pulled away to stare at him. Geralt tried to let his affection through, drinking in Jaskier’s beloved face like he hadn’t allowed himself before. The last rays of the sun played over Jaskier’s hair, turning some of the strands to brilliant amber. His eyes were over bright. Whatever the bard saw in Geralt’s expression must have been enough, because the next moment they were kissing again.

It was, Geralt thought, a miracle that he had ever gone so long without doing so. Now that they’d begun, he never wanted to stop. Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft against his, and when Geralt licked slowly into his mouth he tasted of old wine. They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt holding Jaskier close, decades of tension not so much breaking as releasing like a quiet sigh of relief.

Finally they pulled apart, Geralt nosing at Jaskier’s cheek as he hummed contentment into the bard’s skin. He could feel deft fingers petting through his hair, easily working around the tangles that had formed on the walk up the hill. “I love you,” he said, pressing the words below Jaskier’s ear as if he could speak them into his core that way.

Jaskier shivered once under him. “I love you too,” he said, and Geralt could feel him smiling in the way his jaw moved. He knew Jaskier in his bones. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know.”

Geralt pulled back, pushing Jaskier’s fringe back with one hand as he met his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stop running from you,” he said, smiling. Jaskier grinned back, and neither of them mentioned that his eyes were slightly damp. Geralt pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to his bard. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm

Warnings: nonconsensual sexual acts (tags to be added throughout series)

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: So I have been wanting to start a Thor series for months but I also have this little devil on my shoulder @lokislastlove​ who is constantly in my ear so while I continue to play with my old series and try to finagle whole chapters, I present to you what will eventually be a very scary Thor.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The palace was overwhelming in its splendor. You had never set foot in such a place and now it was to be your home. No, you weren't to live among the upper floors of nobles, but to serve them and reside with the other servants below. You couldn't complain as already the position was preferable to your former. You didn't miss the steam of the launderers down by the docks nor did you miss the smell of fish guts and worse things.

Melora was to share the thin hay-stuffed mattress with you in the servants' quarters and so it was also her task to accommodate you to your new duties. It was simple enough to clear away the plates and scraps of the wealthy and sweep away the dirt left behind by the soles of their polish boots and sandals. It wasn't some new and extraordinary mission, only the setting was different.

You first week was overwhelming only for all the new faces; servants and aristocrats alike. The latter swept by in their silky gowns and capes as you paused to show deference. You'd bend your knee and bow your head until they passed then resume your work in the corridor. You truly preferred the kitchen where there was little risk of encountering any of the noble Asgardians. One slip and you could be back to the docks or worse. 

Melora had already told you many stories of errant eyes and harsh consequences. Her former bed mate had scuffed the toe of Prince Loki's boots and was dismissed the next day. You wondered how long you would, or could, last. You'd just have to do what you did best, fade into the wall.

That night, the king, Thor, planned a feast to mark his late father's name day. It was to be a significant affair and the palace was alive with frenetic energy. Servants toiled below and nobles harried above to dawn the perfect attire for the occasion. 

You tended to the evening's meal along with the kitchen staff; several boars spitted for the occasion and mounds of vegetables pealed and speared on long skewers to roast. Casks of ale and wine were rolled in from the cellars and ewers shone as they were loaded onto carts along with stacks of golden plates, bowls, and goblets. You'd never seen such turmoil, not even when a storm crested just off the shore and the fishermen flurried to unload their wares should their ships be lost.

The hours flew by as the chores seemed endless and as the signal was given to start arranging platters, you were picked out with a dozen other girls to carry ewers filled with wine to the feast hall. Melora was just behind you, her toes whispered behind your heels as she kept close.

"We'll be serving for the night. It's tiresome, not a moment off your feet." She muttered. "Those nobles stomachs are as endless as their pockets."

You nodded, your voice locked deep in your chest. The hall glowed with glass lanterns that illuminated golden silk draped artfully from the columns around long trestle table lined with benches. You recalled the nicest dinner you'd ever attended was held by your mother when you were a child. Seasoned fish and carrots shoveled down in the small house behind the smithy.

Melora stopped you as you made to follow Irene to the north wall. She touched your arm and kept her voice low.

"We will keep an eye to these tables," She pointed the the three rows between you as she took her place beside a marble plinth, "Stay alert but don't let your eyes stray."

"Alright," You mumbled softly and hugged the ewer.

Scarlet table clothes draped the long tables and the golden dishes were set out precisely. You were distracted from your awe by movement near the doors. A man with a horn entered and placed his lips to his instrument. Voices rose from the corridors and the brass called to the approaching nobles, arriving from the ceremony held on the palace green

You lowered your eyes as the nobles entered in pairs and trios and larger groups. They trilled as they found a seat among the trestles and when all were upon the benches, the horn sounded again. The guests stood and quieted as they looked expectantly to the doors.

It was a moment before the king appeared. He wore his golden crown and formal cloak of a similar shade. You peeked at the hem of his cape but kept your chin down. You hadn't yet been in the presence of King Thor and you had been content to avoid him. The thought of it made you quiver. While he was known to many as a jovial king, you'd found that those rumours did not come from the lips of the palace staff. 

Music rose from the harps and fine lutes as the king's footfalls echoed through the hall. As he neared the table at the head of the chamber he turned and his people fell into an uproar. The applause was raucous if not overdone. You suspected that obligation was more the reason than admiration.

Well, it wasn’t your duty to surmise.

The king sat and the nobles followed suit. You mimicked Melora and the other servants as they walked the length of the table and filled the cups of guests. You went to the casks hidden behind a curtain at the rear of the hall and refilled your ewer before returning to your vigil. The hall burgeoned with the sound of scraping cutlery, buzzing voices, and booming laughter. For a moment, you envied them all. What was like to be them?

A cup raised and a call came for a drink. You diligently made your way along the table and filled the goblet. You glanced across as Melora did the same at the next table, just a little further down. A hand reached back and squeezed her ass. You blanched and righted the ewer. 

You retreated, eyes on the floor. What should you do if it happened to you? Melora only giggled and carried on. What if you overturned the pitcher? Well, Melora was rather pretty, perhaps it would not happen to you.

The night wore on as such, pouring and standing. You noticed that Melora was not the only servant prone to wandering fondles. None of the women seemed particularly bother however and tarried from their perches along the wall to act coy for the noblemen.

"Drink! Drink!" A deep voice called as a giggle chirped just in the next row. "Drink! Servant! Who will serve their king?"

Tho sounded as drunk as the next guest. You glanced over, just for a second, and took in his long golden hair and thick beard, the rosiness in his cheeks and the fire in his pale blue eyes. You looked around and none of the other servants seemed to hear him, they were all too distracted by the words and coins offered by the lascivious guests.

You blinked and hesitated. The wine sloshed in your ewer and you looked around once more. The king continued to call, growing increasingly irritated. You watched your feet as you turned and began down along the wall. You walked behind the line of chairs at the head table, fewer than the rest. Only Thor, his brother, and his closest friends had the honour.

Your heart was beating in your ears as you grabbed the handle of the ewer and lifted it from against your stomach. You saw the tail of his gold cloak, hung from the back of his chair, and his crown, sat beside his plate. You kept your head down as you stopped beside his chair. You squeaked first, your words garbled, then tried again.

"Your majesty?" You held up the ewer and he put his cup out toward you. You filled it and he rescinded it so quickly, some splashed over the rim onto his hand.

You bowed and backed away slowly. You heard a deep gulp as you focused on the legs of the chairs.

"Another, sweet maid," He called before you could get past the end of the table. 

He had drank so fast, you wondered how he did not keel over. You returned to him and filled his goblet again. He chuckled and took another drink.

"Your majesty," You repeated and took a step back.

"A shy one," He mused and you stopped. "I've not seen you before."

Your eyes rounded at the floor and your lashes fluttered.

"Me, your majesty?" You asked.

"Yes, you, I don't speak to my own brother," He scoffed. "So, are you new or have you hidden in the shadows?"

"I arrived at the palace only three weeks past, your majesty," You said.

He leaned on the arm of his chair and waved his fingers along the edge of your vision.

"Come closer or speak up," He urged. "I cannot hear you."

You swallowed and took a breath. You struggled to steady your voice.

"Your majesty." You said loudly.

"Well, you may look upon me, should you wish. It is not forbidden. Not looking, anyway." He drank again and held out his cup. You stepped closer to pour and watched the wine trickle from the ewer but still could not look up. "Very well. Your ears seems sharp enough. Stay close, I am thirsty."

You uttered another 'your majesty’ and carefully tiptoed away. You thought he would remand you once more; tell you how you had failed at the mere act of walking. He didn't and you backed up to the wall. You felt a warmth around you. He was still looking at you but you did not dare to raise your head. You did not dare to see what should happen if you did.

🌩️

The rest of the night was uneventful aside from the king’s lingering eyes. By the end, you suspected it was some sort of game. The same that all the other men in the room seem to be in on. The only difference was that your reticence made it little fun for either side. And in the end, there were a dozen other servants who would gladly accept the king’s ploys.

When the feast hall was empty, you remained with the rest of the servants and those who came from the kitchens to help clear the trestles and decorations. Like many of the others, Melora was still giddy from her flirtations and there was a slight jingle to her step as a few coins were nestled in her bosom. 

The next time there was such an event, you might request to remain in the kitchens. The very thought of those men touching you made you recoil and the memory of the king’s taunting gaze made you burn in humiliation. It was one thing to clean up after others, it was something else entirely to be mocked by them.

You were exhausted by the time you returned to your shared mattress. Melora whispered with Magga as you slung your arm over your head in hopes of tuning them out. It was so late that the morning arrived within a few hours and you woke with a heavy head. You pulled on your servant’s dress over your slip and belted it first with a plain strap of leather and then the apron you wore to mark your station.

You yawned as you went to fetch your broom and bucket. You were stopped by Agnes as you did, the older maid often sent you off where you were needed before ordering another to fix their cap or their dress. She caught the handle of your broom and snatched the bucket from you as you stared at her dumbly.

“The king has council this morning and I heard what Melora got up to last night.” Agnes took the broom and pail from you, “You will take her place and mind your place. You girls…” She sighed. “As quickly as you’ve come, you can go. I shouldn’t have to remind you so often.”

You nodded and she pursed her lips.

“Well, better go. You don’t want to be barging in in the midst of royal business,” She shook her head. “Remember to keep your mouth shut and your head down.”

You gave another silent affirmation and flitted past her. Melora rolled her eyes as she was handed your broom and you gave her a pitiful smile. You didn’t tarry to commiserate as you realised you had to find the council room on your own. You’d only passed it once in your short time in the palace and you weren’t quite trusting of your memory or sense of direction.

You went down the east corridor instead of the west as you reached the upper floor. When at last you righted your course and found your way, the chamber was empty. You placed the steins before the seats and poured the light ale in each. As you left the pitcher in on the side table, the door croaked and you turned to greet the first arrival.

Prince Loki entered with an arched brow. You bent and averted your eyes at once. You recited a quavering ‘your highness’ and he grumbled in response and sat. He let out a long breath and turned the stein before him with his long fingers.

“You haven’t any wine? Or in the least, water?” He asked.

“I brought some water as well but no wine, your highness,” You offered.

“Very well,” He shoved the stein away from him.

You poured him a glass of the water and he took it without platitude. He sipped and rubbed the arm of the chair as he leaned back and hooked one leg over the other.

“My brother and his cronies are ever late,” He sneered. “You might quit your hovering until they arrive.”

You bowed your head and backed up to the wall. The prince picked at his nails and fidgeted then another entered and he greeted him in monotone. Lord Geir sat heavy across from him and grabbed the stein impatiently. He was followed by Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Amund, and the solitary female, Sif. The king was last, almost a whole hour after his brother as he strode in and greeted the room with a booming jape.

Loki rolled his eyes and you caught yourself staring at the nobles. You sucked your lip in and listened as Thor sat and the wooden stein scraped on the table. 

“You all look well-rested,” He mused and a grumble rose from the table. “I must say I didn’t sleep much. Lady Dagny is rather persistent.”

“Brother,” Loki cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, “Shouldn’t we begin? You are already late and the day does pass us by.”

“Jealous?” Thor chuckled. “Oh, but you always were rather dull. I doubt you’d know what to do with her if she did venture to your bed.”

“This is a council meeting not one of your repugnant socials,” Loki drawled. “I’ve come here to tend to business but if you haven’t any business to tend, I will be on my way.”

“Don’t you fret, we will attend to business,” Thor declared and made a horrible squelch as he emptied his stein. “Once I get another ale.”

“Perhaps water would--”

“Ale,” Thor ignored his brother’s plea and waved his stein in the air.

You jolted away from the wall and took the pitcher from the table beside you. You swept around the table, head down in hopes the king did not recognize you, though you had faith he would not remember you, be it for his drunkenness or the sheer number of faces in the palace. You poured and uttered a “your highness” before you drew away.

You stood against the wall once more and stared at the back of the chair in front of you. Hogun’s shoulders slumped as he leaned on the left arm and yawned. You swore you were being watched but again did not look up. You assured yourself it was your paranoia. And after a night, you were certain it had been as much before. Thor was a king with much bigger concerns than a servant; especially you.

As promised, though with obvious reluctance, Thor began the session. You didn’t understand much of it and even if you did, it was difficult enough to listen to the dry discussion. You filled the cups as bid and kept your vigil by the wall. Your feet were sore from standing still for so long but so was the life of a servant. 

After two hours, the king gave his dismissal but not without a final disagreement with his brother who did not agree with some tax on lumber or another good. You hadn’t really followed. One by one, the council members trickled out. All but the king as he leaned back in his chair and belched.

“You’ve got more ale?” He asked.

“Your majesty,” You grabbed the jug again and neared. “Another stein at least.”

He waited silently as you poured the dregs of ale into his cup but he did not touch it. Your doubts were no longer so firm in your mind. He was most assuredly watching you. You made to back away and he raised his hand, his palm to you as he hummed.

“Stay.” He ordered. He sat forward and took the jug from you and put it on the long table. “Sit.”

You glanced over to the seat as he pointed to it. You didn’t move, too nervous, and just stared.

“Must I tell you again?” He warned.

You sat, almost falling as you did. Another “your majesty” rose out of habit.

“Look at me,” He planted his elbow on the table and he leaned forward and tried to look in your eye. “Sweet maid, look at me.”

You braced yourself and slowly lifted your head. As your eyes met his, a smile spread across his face. You blinked and your eyes fell just as soon as they’d risen. His arm slipped from the table and he grabbed your chin. He lifted your head and squeezed. You looked at him and took a deep breath. Your hands tangled in your lap as you went rigid in the chair.

“Does the sight of me offend you?” He asked.

“Wh-wh-- No, you’re majesty,” You stammered. “I only… Out of respect, I--”

“You have beautiful eyes,” He said softly, “I wouldn’t mind so much to have them upon me.”

Your brow crinkled despite yourself and he released you. He chuckled and grabbed his stein. He tilted it slightly towards you.

“Thirsty?” He asked. You shook your head. “Ah, you wouldn’t-- Other duties no doubt await you.” He took a swig and placed the cup down. “Be on your way then, sweet maid. I will not keep you from your diligence.” His eyes clung to you as you stood warily. “Your devotion is most admirable.”

“Your majesty,” You as good as whispered.

“I fear I haven’t your name,” He said.

You flinched and had to think. You were stunned by the simple request but managed to eke out your name. His smile grew and he nodded as he rubbed his knee thoughtfully. He said your name gently and nodded.

“I might see you again,” He said. “You do seem to be everywhere.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 1/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn't know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he's glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he's been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can't figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn't trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: brief fear of strangulation (no actual strangulation occurs)

Chapter Word Count: 2,926

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 2) (part 3)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

It starts with the snake in the sunshine.

Thomas supposes that’s not entirely right, because in order to be truly accurate, he would have to acknowledge that ‘it’ started a long, long time ago, when he was a kid, or perhaps even when he was a baby. He’s not certain; he’s never thought to ask any of the sides when, exactly, they developed. And he’s also not certain when they became… the way that they are, instead of just being regular, non-sentient parts of his personality like literally everyone else on the planet is made up of, when his heart became someone called Patton, his logic someone called Logan, and so on. But he doesn’t think that any of that is particularly relevant for this specific situation, so for all intents and purposes: it starts with the snake in the sunshine.

He spots it when he’s coming down the stairs, and promptly stops up short on the third to last step, because, snake. In his apartment. And he knows that things like this happen in Florida, knows that wildlife has a tendency to encroach on human settlements (and he has heard enough horror stories about alligators in people’s backyards to last a lifetime, thank you), but it’s never happened to him before, and he’s not sure what to do about it.

It’s lying in the sunlight slanting through the window, coiled tightly, unmoving. It is white, with dappled yellow patterns all across its back, though there appears to be some kind of black marking on its head. It’s fairly large, too, far larger than any snakes he’s seen outside of a zoo, and he briefly entertains the notion that this might be a zoo escapee, though he’s not certain of how that would have happened. Or of how it got into his apartment in the first place. He definitely would have noticed it sneaking through the door, right?

He manages to overcome his initial fear, carefully dismounting the last few steps and approaching cautiously, sure to stay out of striking range. He doesn’t know much about snakes, doesn’t know how to tell if this is a venomous one or not, and he’s not taking any chances. Though, isn’t it something to do with the shape of their heads? Don’t venomous snakes have pointed heads? That sounds right. And this snake’s head doesn’t look particularly angular, so perhaps he’s safe, though he still doesn’t want to get bitten, venomous or not. The next step should probably be to call animal control and let them handle this.

Something about it seems off, though. Something in its markings, perhaps, that particular shade of yellow, or that odd blot on its head—

Wait. That can’t be right.

He stops. Takes a few steps forward, squinting. Goes so far as to rub his eyes, because perhaps there is a spot in his vision, fooling him into seeing something that doesn’t exist.

But no, it’s still there.

The black spot on its head isn’t a natural marking at all. He’s still not entirely sure his eyes can be trusted, but for all the world, it appears as though there is a tiny black bowler hat perched between this snake’s eyes.

And just like that, everything clicks. All the fear rushes out of him at once, leaving him breathless with relief. He can’t say that there is no apprehension about this new set of circumstances, and a healthy dose of confusion is steadily building, but this is far better than there being an actual, real snake in his apartment.

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Slowly, the snake lifts its head, looking up at him with slightly glassy eyes. For a few seconds, they both participate in what has to be the strangest staring contest of Thomas’ life. Thomas loses, because the snake that is probably-almost-definitely-Janus doesn’t seem to blink.

Snakes don’t have facial expressions. Thomas is fairly certain of that. And yet, he gets the distinct impression that Janus is waiting for something; it’s in the gleam of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head, almost like he’s issuing a challenge.

“It’s totally cool if it is,” he clarifies, raising his hands. “Uh, you can feel free to stay there as long as you want. But uh, I just wanted to make sure that it was you and not some random snake.” He smiles, casting about in his mind for something to say. He’s not yet sure how to talk to Janus, not sure how to interact with him now that he’s offered up his acceptance, but he’s certainly going to try his best. He wants to get to know him, wants to understand him better. He deserves nothing less. “There’s only room for one snake in this apartment.”

Janus stares at him for a while longer, and then nods, a fluid, intelligent motion that is slightly disturbing coming from something that looks like an animal, but Thomas can deal. If his sides can shapeshift into his friends, and puppets, and giant frog monsters with abs, he can cope with his snake-like side becoming an actual snake. It’s hardly the weirdest thing he’s ever seen.

Janus returns to his coiled up position, apparently intent on taking a nap, and frankly, Thomas can’t blame him at all. A nap sounds great right about now. He’s not entirely sure why Janus has chosen to do so here, rather than in the mindscape; he’s certainly never seen any of the other sides sleep in his apartment. But he’s hardly about to make Janus leave, even if he’s bemused and a bit discomfited, so he wanders off to grab a snack and get back to editing, leaving Janus to sleep in the sunlight.

He’s gone by evening, and Thomas isn’t entirely sure when he left. It’s a few days before he shows up again, in the exact same spot, in the exact same sunbeam, and Thomas greets him but otherwise leaves him be.

From then on, it sort of becomes a thing. On cloudless days, Janus pops up as a snake to sun himself in the living room. Sometimes Thomas will chat with him, making idle conversation that he’s not sure is listened to, and sometimes he stays silent, content to do his own thing while Janus does his. It turns into a comfortable habit, on his end, at least, and he hopes that Janus is comfortable with it too. He thinks he is; at least, he never gives any indication otherwise.

He’s still not sure why exactly this is happening, but he hardly feels the need to complain.

But then, Thomas walks downstairs one day to find Janus staring directly at him.

He pauses, thrown by the change to their routine. Most of Janus’ body is curled in on itself, like usual, but his head is reared, and as Thomas watches, he sways back and forth slightly, a constant, seemingly automatic motion. His tongue flickers in the air, but he makes no sound, neither hissing nor speech, and though Thomas isn’t sure that he’s capable of talking while he’s like this, he’s heard him hiss a few times, so this silence is unnerving.

“Hey,” he says uneasily. He gives a half-hearted little wave, which he regrets almost instantly, feeling like an idiot. “Uh, is something the matter?”

Janus looks pointedly to the window behind him, and then back to Thomas again. It only takes Thomas a few seconds after that to realize what the issue is.

It’s raining.

And not a light rain, either, not the kind that casts grey shadows over the world and taps gentle, soothing rhythms against the windowpane. This is a storm, dark and furious, wind whipping and tearing into the trees and sending gust after gust of the torrential downpour against the glass. It is late afternoon, but it may as well be night for how dark the sky is. There is certainly no trace of sun poking through, and thus, no light for Janus to lie in.

He walks closer, though hesitantly. “I’m not sure what to tell you, buddy.” He winces as soon as he says it; ‘buddy’ doesn’t fit Janus at all, feels too presumptuous, like he’s assuming a closeness that doesn’t yet exist. He’ll keep trying. “I can’t control the weather.” He pauses, looking back to the snake, who has drawn up slightly, his head now almost level with Thomas’ waist. “Um, is there not anywhere in the mindscape that you could find some sun?”

Janus hisses, loud and sharp, opening his mouth to flash some fang. Instinctively, Thomas takes a step back.

He’ll take that as a no.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not sure what to do, then,” he says. “It’s supposed to be like this all day.”

Snakes cannot look disappointed. They cannot glare. They are literally incapable of those facial expressions. So how Janus is managing to convey angry dejection is absolutely beyond him. And he doesn’t know how to comfort him, doesn’t know if comfort would even be welcome; in a way, Janus is a lot like Virgil, not that he would ever dare to speak that opinion out loud. They present themselves entirely differently, but at their core, they are both proud, stubborn and guarded, if in varying ways. Thomas has learned Virgil fairly well by now, knows how to slip past his walls, but Janus is a different story.

But still, seeing him so disappointed doesn’t sit right with him. So he reaches out on instinct, running a finger down the scales just past his head in an attempt to offer comfort through touch, and he doesn’t realize that this may have been a mistake until Janus stiffens, going completely rigid and still. He pulls his hand back hastily.

“Sorry!” he says. “I should’ve asked first, I’m sorry.” He frowns, glancing from Janus to his finger and back again. “You’re really cold. Is that normal?”

Snakes are cold-blooded. He does know that much, knows that they rely on external factors in order to maintain their body temperatures. He just never thought that such a restriction would apply to Janus, considering that he is, in fact, an imaginary snake and not a real one. But if he’s wrong, if Janus truly does need an outside source of heat in order to stay warm himself, then that would explain his distress.

Janus hisses at him again and ducks back down, curling into himself until he resembles a convoluted knot, his head nowhere to be seen. It’s almost upsettingly cute, not that Thomas would risk voicing such a thought. He crouches down instead, considering his options. Would Janus accept his help, if he offered it?

There’s only one way to find out.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Um, look, I can’t turn on the sun for you, but you look super uncomfortable, so if you wanted, you could… wrap around my arm, or something? Body heat would help, right?” He hesitates; Janus is fairly long, probably about five feet, possibly a bit longer, so the logistics might be a bit tricky. But he’s sure they could figure it out, if Janus would be amenable. Slowly, he stretches a hand out again, placing two fingers on Janus’ scales and stroking them with a feather-light touch. He really does feel cold.

Janus uncoils himself, hissing loudly, but he leans into the contact in a way that almost seems like desperation, like he’s trying to steal all the warmth he can from Thomas’ fingertips. And after a moment, the hissing stops, and he regards Thomas with an almost wild stare.

“Really,” he presses, unsure of what Janus is thinking. “I wouldn’t mind. Unless it’s not something you’re comfortable with, in which case, that’s fine, we could figure out something else. I… might have a heated blanket?” He casts back in his mind, trying to figure out if he does, in fact, possess a heated blanket, or if he just used to have one and is remembering incorrectly. If he doesn’t still have it, he’s not sure that he owns anything else that would help; snakes like heat lamps, he thinks, but he definitely doesn’t have one of those. Could he turn on the oven and set Janus in front of it? Would that work?

He is jolted out of his thoughts by the sensation of Janus’ head rubbing into his hand, like a cat seeking attention. He freezes, and so does Janus, and for a long moment, they have another one of those staring contests. Then, Janus sets his head primly on the back of his hand, still staring, as if asking for permission. Something bright and warm blooms in Thomas’ chest, and with his free hand, he gestures to his arm, trying to suppress the grin that wants to spread across his face.

Janus hesitates for a second longer. Then, he slithers up and around Thomas’ arm, and Thomas shivers at the sensation of frigid scales sliding across his skin. At first, it seems as though this won’t work, that Janus is simply too big to settle comfortably, but Thomas watches in fascination as Janus begins to shrink, landing on a much smaller size, perhaps two feet long, a length that can wrap around his arm with ease. Somehow, throughout the process, the tiny bowler hat remains perfectly balanced.

And just like that, there is a snake looped around Thomas’ arm.

“Alright,” he says, trying not to sound as giddy as he feels, because this is the closest he feels like he’s gotten to making a personal connection to Janus in months. “Okay, cool. Um, I was planning on getting some more editing done, so you can just hang out while I do that, I guess. Feel free to hiss at me or something if you get uncomfortable.”

Janus remains silent, which he will take as a good sign. In fact, he remains silent for the better part of an hour, lazily regarding the computer screen as Thomas attempts to wrangle his filmed material into something worth posting. He ends up doing most of the work with one arm so as to disturb Janus as little as possible, but he finds that he doesn’t mind. After a time, he almost forgets that Janus is there at all, becomes accustomed to the chilly weight of his scales on his arm, the slight movements as he shifts in place every now and again.

But then, those slight movements become bigger movements, and Thomas stills, tensing as Janus uncoils and begins to slither his way up his arm and under his shirtsleeve. His breath catches, and chills shoot down his spine; Janus is warmer than before, but still cool, and the sensation as Janus moves across his shoulder and emerges from his shirt’s collar is odd, unfamiliar. He exhales shakily as Janus continues to move, looping himself around his neck several times, just tight enough that Thomas is very aware of his presence, of the fact that there is a snake coiled around his neck, and as much as he knows that Janus will not physically harm him (and probably couldn’t, even if he tried), there is an element in his hindbrain that is gibbering at him, insisting that everything about this situation is a very bad idea, and that he needs to remove the threat.

God, he hopes Virgil isn’t paying attention to this. Except, judging from the way he’s feeling right now, judging from the almost audible oh god oh god get him off get him off, he definitely is, and Thomas is very surprised that he’s held back from showing up in person.

And then, Janus lets out a whistling breath and tucks his head between the coils and Thomas’ neck, and all the tension leaks from Thomas’ body as his rational thinking catches up to the situation. The way Janus is gripping him is nowhere near tight enough to cut off his airflow, and it never was, even though he seems to be pressing up as close to his skin as possible. But why--?

Was his arm not warm enough?

“You good there, Janus?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He receives no response, neither a hiss nor any additional motion, so he tries again. “Are you, uh, asleep?”

Again, no reply, so it’s probably safe to assume. He smiles, wide and unrestrained, and powers down his laptop. The storm outside has calmed to a softer rainfall, pattering against the windows, and other than that, the world seems quiet and still. It’s earlier than Thomas usually goes to bed, but he actually feels like he might manage to fall asleep if he tries, and a little bit of extra rest never hurt anyone. He’s been working in bed already, thankfully, so while he can’t lie all the way down without dislodging Janus in some way, Logan won’t lecture him too much if he falls asleep where he sits.

He reaches over to the lamp at his bedside and turns off the light.

“Goodnight, Janus,” he murmurs. Predictably, he receives no response, but Janus’ scales still press against him in the dark, a comforting presence as he drifts off.

------

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[taeescript]

IV. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 9.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. sexual content present. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> another long chapter. sorry! the oc is as opposite to me as day is to night, but i have always enjoyed writing characters who are different. i feel like i’m being challenged to expand my own writing skills. as always, enjoy (: feedback and comments always appreciated. (i am curious: do you prefer long or short chapters?) 

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The taxi arrives much earlier than any of you anticipate. Jungkook is halfway through telling you about the unfortunate event of being kicked out of his rented room when the annoyed-looking driver quickly shoves you both inside. He asks you where you are headed. You lean forward and give him the address of your house. The driver mutters how the drive is less than five minutes away, but he accepts the job nevertheless. “How about you, Sir?” the driver asks Jungkook. Jungkook is at a loss of words until you intercede. “Same place,” you say. Jungkook gives you a confused look. “You said you don’t have any place to stay tonight so I’m extending an offer. Also, sort of like a thank you for finding and staying with me through this storm.” Your words come out much shyer than you had anticipated. He gives you a slight smile. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to invite a stranger to your house?” You blush. “You’re not really a stranger.” “Ah, I’m not? Well I’m a suspect to a murder case.” “No, you’re not! Jimin was only talking to you as a witness.” “A witness? He seemed a little too hostile for that.” As the conversation had carried on, you didn’t notice how close he became until you turned to come face to face with him. The small smile he always has continues to linger on his lips. You pull back and turn to hide the flush on your face that you know for sure is present. Once the heat seems to have left, you glance at him again. He is still regarding you with curiosity. Extending a hand towards him you say, “$10 per night. I’ll be your landlady and you’re renting a room from me.” He laughs and you can’t help but stare with wonder at how white and straight his teeth are.

...

The Body is a miraculous item of study. Inside, we have these little chemical messengers that act on receptors to tell us: wake! At the same time, they tell us: sleep! Just what are these chemical messengers that run around us like tiny men in a sleep-wake factory? First, when we are getting ready to sleep, Melatonin is produced in the pineal gland to send us a message telling us that it is time to enter slumber. Their levels increase as the level of darkness increases. Once our body is asleep, a surge of multiple hormones play a role. You have growth hormone from the pituitary gland telling (a child in particular) to grow and repair tissue; you have antidiuretic hormone (ADH) increasing so we don’t have to get up and pee in the middle of the night; you have oxytocin that may peak at about five hours of sleep influencing the content of our dreams. You wait nervously outside the bathroom door. You had both returned to your house and you had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a sleeveless top. Your hair was tied in a bun on your head; your scalp itching to remind you that it had been a while since you washed your hair. However, you had more pressing matters at hand. You had told Jungkook that he was allowed to use the shower first but after drinking one too many cups of water – your throat was so dry – you now desperately needed to use the washroom. The water is still running and you can slightly feel the heat escaping the warm room through the small crack of the door. It was ajar and the smell of your shampoo wafted out to meet your nose. It made you wonder if your shampoo had always been so sweet and inviting. As you are the only resident of the house, there had never been a need for multiple bathrooms and thus your only solution is to patiently wait outside until your guest is finished.  After what felt like five minutes but in actuality five seconds, you take a small peek into the bathroom. The glass shower door has been fogged up and you can only see a very hazy silhouette of its current occupant. If you were to dash in and release everything in your bladder at a fast enough speed, perhaps Jungkook would never notice that you would be in there. Just as long as you moved fast enough. You wanted to weigh the pros and cons of this decision but your bladder would not let your mind concentrate. Before you could control your body, you rush into the bathroom. Everything but the feeling of pleasure from the release of the buildup of pressure in your pelvis is forgotten. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. When you are finished, you deftly stand and flush the toilet. You momentarily lean over the toilet, reveling in the new weightlessness of your body, when the realization of the scenario you are in hits you. You had just walked into a man showering in your house. Not only that, you had used the toilet while he was washing up (naked) less than a feet away. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would definitely see you in here. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would think you are a peeping tom. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now – It is too late, however. You hear his voice from behind you, “Well, this is a surprise.” You turn as slowly as you can. Jungkook stands with the white towel around his waist. He does not look much different than when you had seen him drenched by the rain, but this time you are able to smell the masculine scent of body wash off of him. The first time in the rain, you had been unable to help yourself and glance at his defined abdominal muscles through his soaked shirt, but this time you choose not to peel your eyes away from the sight. The gulp you takes makes its way slowly down your throat. “I needed to use the toilet really badly,” you somehow managed to squeak. He tucks the end of the towel into the side all the while looking at you with a teasing smirk. You do not need to look in the mirror behind you to know the shade your face has turned. “I’ll be going now,” you murmur and turn to leave the room. “Without washing your hands?” he teases you. As if he now is not regarding you as a full out pervert, he probably thought you as unclean as well. You can’t remember what you say in response to that as you shuffle to the sink. The water is warm when it runs out of the faucet. Your mind is unfocused on the task in front of you as you can only think of ways to escape or talk your way out of this situation. “How are you supposed to wash any the germs away if you scrub like that?” You feel his voice vibrate along your back. You immediately tense up when his arms wrap from behind around you. His hands gently take your slimmer hands into his own and together they move through the lathering actions. He pumps the hand soap and his lips become dangerously close to your cheek when he reaches in front. “Clean between each finger and the side of your palm. People often forget to wash the area around the thumb and most of their less dominant hand,” he continues to lecture you. “Just be still,” the plea to your body and mind only being silently voiced out in desperation. There is no extra cloth to wipe your hands dry and so he uses the towel around his waist instead. Each action he does only made you become ever more anxious and self-conscious. When he seemed satisfied with you, he lets you walk away. You will your legs to maintain its strength as you take the steps needed to exit the small steamy room. You are stopped again when he says, “Are you always so innocent?” There is a part of you that wants to turn to look at him, but another part warns you that if you do, a larger temptation will face you. He strolls to stand before you. His eyes slowly make their way from your toes to the top of your forehead; then his gaze holds you steadily in place. You swallow again under his scrutiny. Taking a step towards you, he slides a finger under the strap of you tank top. The simple action makes you shiver. “Tell me, how long have you been living alone?” Your mind tells you not to answer him. What are you doing anyways? Just an hour ago you were thinking about Baekhyun and now you are being consumed by Jungkook. “How long has it been since you’ve been… touched?” his question comes out barely above a whisper – that is how close he is to you now. “I shouldn’t – ” you words are suffocated by his kiss. His lips mold until they wrap around yours. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you fall into him with such speed that it scares you. You feel both dread and thrill in your stomach. He tastes warm, that is the only thing your mind is capable of detecting. Other than that, your brain can not function and you feel yourself shiver in his embrace. You wonder if he has his eyes closed as well or if he was looking at you. Perhaps if you opened your eyes you would have an answer to your question yet you felt afraid of doing so. He pulls you waist closer to him and the dew on his chest seeps through your thin top. His skin is warm, but the now-cold water causes your nipples to become erect. He can feel them straining through the top, but rather than having his hand rise up to meet it, he slides his hand deeper into your pants. Your body tenses up at the invasion. “Relax,” the single word slurs as they are passed between your lips. The suggestion comes in the form of a command and your body strangely listens. With his hand, he forcefully grips the left cheek of your behind and roughly presses you lower body into his. The simultaneous sensation of pleasure and pain runs through your body. His other free hand brushes the nape of you neck. Your hands act of their own accord, and you find them running through his hair, all the while as he tugs on your lips; all the while that you become wrapped in his embrace. Your fingers become brushed with water, and you draw a wet finger down the middle of his back. It is his moan you hear this time, and the thrill rushes through your body again. For the next few moments, the two of you are captivated with exploring each other’s body. You think that he is about to lift your shirt off when instead his hand slips through the barrier created by your underwear. You freeze again. His lips leave yours and trace a pathway until he stands behind you, and your back is pressed tightly against his torso. All the while, his hand makes a crawling rotation until they rest on you lower abdominal. You place a shaking hand on top of this. You don’t even notice that your fingers have become icy cold. “Trust me,” he whispers into your ear. His voice is so low that you mind barely registers what he has said. You heart rises in speed in proportion to his hand that moves out from beneath yours and continually slides downward.

...

You wake with a beating heart. Your eyes fly open, and they are greeted with the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars you had placed on your ceiling. It had been a dream. Your breathing fights to become regular again, but the more you think about what you had awoken from, the more it loses in its battle. You know it is all a dream, but why was it then that you still feel the pressure on you lower abdominal? With a crack, your mind finally reels out of its stupor and a new burn in your stomach causes you to flush again. The act of sex is not foreign to you. You had given that away to Baekhyun the night you realized you were truly in love with him – the night he had proposed to you. But that had happened a long time ago and since his disappearance, you had never given yourself to another man. The thought had never even passed through you. So why was it that you had these thoughts now? Towards a man that you had only just met? Also, how was it that he could make you do something like this? Your hand slides out from your underwear and the band’s near soundless snap practically hands you its embarrassing reality on a gold platter. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had touched yourself. The concept was always too taboo and awkward for you to embrace. You were also not a person that became aroused by sexual thoughts, yet a simple dream had made you lose control of your body. You wiped your hands on the bedsheets, and turn onto your side in bed so you would no longer feel the pressure of gravity on your already tense body. Jeon Jungkook. You only invited him at the spur of the moment. You had both returned home and wordlessly showered and got into bed. You had offered to make a simple meal but he had kindly rejected telling you that he was too tired. He had also jokingly told you not to worry about breakfast tomorrow as it was the least he could do in return for letting him sleep at your place. Continuing on, you told him that he was allowed to use your bedroom so he would be more comfortable but he had patted your small sofa instead. He always carried a pillow with him and told you he could fall asleep anywhere as long as he had it with him. You squeeze your eyes shut. Why? What was this? Who is this man that has barged into your safe house?

More importantly, what is he doing to you? You curl into a tighter ball and press your thighs closer together.

...

The scent of sweet in combination to savory fills your nose and sends a chill through your body. Your eyes remain closed, still infused with slumber but you bring the blanket closer to you. A small breeze sends another intoxicating spiral towards your nose. It smells like pancakes. Perhaps with a thick layer of maple syrup and a cube of butter. There is also something that reminds you of salt – bacon. Sizzling, warm, crunchy bacon. The distinct aroma of coffee is blended in there as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you open your eyes. You yelp. Jungkook nearly tips the coffee cup onto your drawer when the sound suddenly occurs. He looks down and sees your wide eyes staring up at him. He meets them but you quickly shift your pupils. You look… nervous. Seeing the unexpected visitor makes you remember the events of last night. Your palms start to sweat and you only draw the covers closer to your chest while sitting up. The corner of the sheet dips past your shoulder and he catches the flash of smooth skin. “Sorry to wake you,” he scratches his jaw embarrassedly, “I saw you were asleep and I promised breakfast. I thought I’d try to quietly slip in and leave it by your bedside.” You eye the said meal on your drawer and note that your nose had not lied to you. “It’s okay,” you try to say. However, your voice is groggy with sleep and so you clear it once. “It’s okay,” you say clearer this time, “But you really didn’t have to.” “It’s nothing. I’m an early riser anyways.” He makes a motion to leave. “Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to look at you. His gaze is piercing and the strange flush that never failed to make an appearance returns. “I’ll join you outside,” you tell him. Smiling, he nods. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

...

When you had left, Jimin had sat down at his desk feeling extremely dejected. He was supposed to protect you and make sure you never shed another tear. That was his promise to his best friend. Yet here he is, as the cause of your pain once again.

“Sir, the files you had requested.” Yoongi knocks on his door. As the youngest detective on the team, he is often coerced into doing the grunt work. But his tenacious and hard-working attitude gave him rise on Jimin’s list of people he respected. Jimin tilts his head to peer above the top of his cluttered desk. New files had been opened along with the scatter of older yellowing papers. His whiteboard is nearing a grey colour at the amount of times he has written things down and then erased them. Yoongi listens and is about to leave his senior alone but stops at the door. “Sir, if I may, will you allow me to make a comment?” the younger asks solemnly. Jimin turns to regard him. His eyesight blurs and he has to hold onto the corner of the desk to steady himself. Quickly masquerading the moment of weakness, he coughs and stands straight again. “You haven’t left the station in three days. You sleep at the desk and your back is in so much pain you shuffle to get coffee. It smells of Chinese take-out and stale pizza in here with another strange concoction of coffee and sweat.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him. Yoongi clears his throat but does not waver in telling Jimin his mind. “Go home, Sir. You need some rest. The case will still be here when you return. It’ll also be of benefit when you return with refreshed eyes and mind.” Yoongi stands still all the while looking forward. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jimin walking towards him. His mouth starts to become dry knowing the harsh words he will hear from the his senior for speaking out of place.

Jimin tiredly places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi rotates his head in surprise. Sighing, he says, “You’re right. My body is on the verge of breaking down.” He sniffs once. “And I do smell like shit.” 

Yoongi chuckles, both out of nervousness and relief. 

“I’m leaving the team in your hands then,” Jimin grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. 

“Me?” Yoongi says astonished, “What about Lieutenant Namjoon?” 

The laugh draws more strength from Jimin’s lungs than he anticipates. “I haven’t seen that guy for the past three days in the station, and both you and I know I’ve been living here. You’re young, but I like your attitude. The others like you too.” 

Yoongi cannot help but smile at the praise. He salutes as Jimin walks out the door. “I’ll do my absolute best!”

“I expect nothing less,” Jimin calls out and waves.

...

He had fully intended to walk home, but there are so many thoughts in his head he needed fresh air to wash out the stale one in his lungs and to clear out his mind. 

Sitting at the park just a block away from the station, he takes a small bite of the cookie he picked up from the station’s café. It is sickening sweet and he wonders how he had lived on these cookies when he used to pull all-nighters for previous cases. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice interrupts his quiet. 

Jimin looks up and sees Namjoon smiling at him. Namjoon’s hair is swept back and he is sporting a white polo shirt along with khaki pants. His police jacket is slung over his arm and hides his badge within. At a quick glance, Namjoon looks like any normal civilian enjoying the autumn afternoon. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jimin lazily greets his friend. 

Namjoon takes a seat beside Jimin. In one hand, he holds a brown paper back and this is what he extends towards Jimin. 

Taking a peek inside, Jimin notes a container that has some type of potato salad along with another stacked container with mixed rice. 

“Youngji told me to pass this to you,” Namjoon answers his unasked question, “We thought you could do without any more of the crappy station café food – full of MSG and sugar.” 

The smiling face of Namjoon’s soon-to-be wife enters Jimin’s vision at the mention of her name. The two had recently moved in together and there were days when Jimin felt envious when hearing about Namjoon brag about his fiancée’s skills in the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Jimin says. 

“I’m not slacking on the job by the way,” Namjoon says.

“You’re not? I don’t recall seeing you in the office for the past couple of days.” 

“I got called into a meeting with the board of directors. They wanted an update on this Angel Killer.” 

“Angel Killer, huh? Quite original.” 

“Not my call on what we name the perps.” 

A lull in the conversation comes to as Jimin caves into the meal set before him. 

“Not a spinach and green bean casserole, I see,” Jimin jokes. 

Namjoon laughs. Starting from a few weeks before, Youngji had gone into a fascination in preparing green foods. The entire floor soon came to understand that Namjoon would be eating the same casserole for his next few meals. 

“I convinced her out of it,” Namjoon says with a grin, “Told her that she already spoils me with all her other cooking.” 

Jimin chuckles along with Namjoon. He digs his fork into the meal before him. The taste of food that did not come from a can is such a welcome sensation to his body he can’t help but sigh.

“Youngji’s a fantastic cook.” 

“One of the best.” 

“Well, here’s to you forever gaining weight.”

Namjoon comically nods and rubs his belly. 

“Well, Y/N’s a pretty good cook too. The pasta looked delicious the other day.”

At the mention of your name, Jimin falls quiet. 

“You know, I understand you better than you think. That look you have, Jimin. I can see that the case isn’t the only reason you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy and inside the station. We all saw Y/N leaving the station the other day.” 

“I guess that also means you all saw how upset I made her.” 

Namjoon takes an inhale followed by a slow exhale. “Stop me if I’m prying too much, but what happened?” 

Jimin takes an even deeper sigh. “She found out that I’m still looking into Baekhyun’s cases after all these years.” 

“Ah,” was Namjoon’s simple response. 

“I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? The reason I’ve never given up on finding the truth is to find some closure for myself. For her… For the both of us.” 

Jimin means the words he says, but when he hears them from his own mouth, it feels strange. 

“Well… what if closure for you doesn’t have the same definition for her?” 

Namjoon’s comment make Jimin tilt his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Namjoon stretches out his legs in front of him. The park has quieted down as most of its visitors have returned to work after their lunch break. Only a couple of people still remain, but they are scattered so far around the park that none of their faces could be made out. 

“Closure for Park Jimin means to discover the truth. Closure for Y/N might be simply to accept that her fiancé’s gone. She was in so much pain when he disappeared and it took her forever to even leave the house. Her first steps out were because of you. The reason she has the strength to move on today is because you’ve constantly been by her side. Maybe the reason she’s been able to accept that Baekhyun’s no longer with her is because she sees that you’ve accepted it as well.” 

“She saw the files that indicate that perhaps Baekhyun was murdered.” 

Namjoon’s next sentence becomes lodged in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again but only to have it return to its previous state. At last when he finally finds what he wants, he says, “That complicates things, doesn’t it?” 

Jimin closes the food container and returns it back into the bag. In the time they had been talking, he found that he had lost his appetite. His two thumbs press against the sides of his temple and gently massage it in circles. 

Everybody knows how much Jimin cares for you; some even think that the extent of it is due to Jimin’s secret crush on you. But Namjoon knows the reason why. He can’t help but look at his colleague and friend with sadness. An ancient promise that causes anguish to those in its pact. 

Placing a warm hand on Jimin’s back, Namjoon leaves it there for comfort. “Is that what you believe? That Baekhyun is gone because he was murdered?” 

Jimin shakes his head. As if the thoughts in his brain could not get any more complicated, the simple question makes things worse. “I don’t know, Namjoon. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been working this case for years now, but everything always comes up to a dead end. A part of me wants to believe that Baekhyun simply decided to walk out of his old life to start a new one and he’s alive somewhere out there. Yet another part, the detective part, can’t ignore the knowledge that maybe something bad did happen to him that night. That’s why he never returned.” 

“Did you uncover anything new?” 

“No. Not for that case.” 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. He can sense something else in Jimin’s tone. He is unable to tell if Jimin says what is on his mind as the conversation is redirected. 

“What did the directors say about Sara Michel’s case? I’m assuming that’s why you went to meet with them.” 

This time it is Namjoon’s turn to furrow his brows. Namjoon had never truly wanted to become Lieutenant. Jimin knew that Namjoon had been offered the position because he first had turned down the offer. Namjoon never expressed any bitterness about it; no, instead he had said he had been thankful. Namjoon had always said how he wanted to become Lieutenant before asking Youngji’s hand in marriage. When they spoke, the only frustration Namjoon ever expressed was the unexpected amount of responsibilities that came with this new position.  

“They want to know if we have any new leads. As they say, if we don’t have anything by 24 hours, the case is as good as gone. If there really isn’t anything then they want us to wrap it up. File it as another unsolved case and focus on the new big project: the whole deal we’ve been working over at with the Narcotics Team.” 

“The drug related gang suicides, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“We can send a couple of guys over.”

“That’s the thing though. The Board doesn’t want a few guys. They want the entire team on board. Agent Hoseok’s barely keeping above the waves with this one. HR is breathing down his neck as apparently, some well-known powerful figure’s gone missing because of this.” 

“Guilty?” 

“Likely, but since he’s clearly an influential guy, the Missing Person’s unit might be dragged into it as well. His lawyers have also been stalking out at the station in case anything does come up. It’s going to set the whole station into turmoil.” 

Politics. Jimin hated it all. If someone was guilty, he believed that they should see the justice they deserved. 

“So what should I say to them?” 

“Huh?” 

“The Board. You’re the one who’s worked the Sara Michel case the most. What should I tell them about our progress so far?” 

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. Progress… Did he have that? Perhaps, but at the end: speculations. That is what they are. He couldn’t take the chance. “Tell them we may have something. Try and deter them from trashing this case. Be ambiguous.” 

Namjoon waits to see if Jimin would further elaborate but the other doesn’t speak again. 

“Alright,” Namjoon says, “But you will keep me updated on whatever you find, right?” 

Jimin nods. 

Namjoon knows that the conversation is over so he stands. Stretching, he rolls his neck once and then follows it similarly with his shoulders. “I’m going to head back to the station. Go home. Get some rest.” 

“None of you want me at the station, huh? I stink it up too much?” 

This earns him a grin from Namjoon. “You’re the brightest mind we have on the team, Jimin. But right now it’s shutting down right in front of my eyes. Recharge it and return when you’re ready.” 

Jimin nods again and lifts a head to say goodbye. Then, he is left to his own thoughts once again.

...

She runs. Fast.

He looks down at the three words. They are the only things that fill his laptop screen after he hits enter. Writer’s block: something he didn’t quite enjoy. That was why he liked to move around so much when he writes. That, plus the fact that he can see his subject clearly. 

The girl is thin and wiry but the definition of hard deltoid muscles are outlined by the afternoon sun. He enjoys a challenge and she might be one. 

Dane observes her like the hunter might to his prey. He notes down everything - from the pathway she takes to the speed of her jogging. Everything is important. 

What a contrast she would serve compared to pretty Ms. Michel. Now, where should he display her this time?

Everything must be chosen so that it meets perfection. She is a prancing antelope that dances unknowingly for the lion. Man is an animal after all. We all belong in the Wilderness.

His eyes look up from his script and watches as the girl stretches once she reaches the bench. She is bent over to catch her breath and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. A small device is wrapped around her arm and she touches it to presumably change the song. Her black and blue leggings contrast with her lighter skin. Once she has rested enough, she jogs a couple of times in place before going forward and then turning the corner out of his sight. 

So pretty and elegant. He wants to wrap his arms around her, and feel her pulse between his fingers. He wants to make her into his next angel. 

Dane is patient. He is willing to wait until the right opportunity. He will see to it. Unwritten.

This is the third time at the park, but each day that he has arrived, she is also there. He did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that this must be her daily route. Soon, he will be able to continue on his story.

...

Jimin could not understand why, but after that day with Namjoon at the park, he found himself returning to it quite often. He would make excuses to grab a coffee, but would then find himself wandering back to the bench. He enjoyed the quietness the small area offered. It allowed him to gather his thoughts in peace before returning to the hectic environment of the station. 

After allocating time spent of sitting silently under the warmth of the sun, Jimin finally stands. The park is much quieter now as the remaining people have also left. He gathers the brown bag with leftovers from the local bistro and starts stretching his legs. From the corner of his eye, he notices that somebody is running. 

There is not enough time for him to get out of her way and she crashes into him the moment she turns the corner. The impact is not great and she merely stumbles back in shock. 

“I’m so sorry,” he bows in apology. 

She is out of breath but she shakes her head and bows as well. “No, it’s my fault! I’m sorry I didn’t see you!” 

He waves it away and they share another awkward laugh before the girl in the black and blue leggings smiles and continues on her route. 

Bending to pick up the brown bag he has dropped on impact, somebody else captures his attention. That person is someone he cannot seem to forget and even this slightest sight of him causes Jimin to scowl. 

He is able to recognize that jacket from anywhere – that grey jacket this man wore the day he walked into the police station. He is currently sitting on a bench nearly halfway across the park. Jimin shouldn’t have been able make out any facial features at his distance, but he swears that the man’s eye follow a runner down the path.  

The other man seems engrossed with something on his laptop. His eyes never seem to leave the screen and Jimin is unable to tell whether Jungkook is typing or whether he is watching some type of video. Regardless of what he is doing, Jimin has already decided that it is not good. 

About to walk up to him, Jimin suddenly stops in the midst. It is not because somebody else has bumped into him or that he is caught up in another thought. 

No. 

It is because he recognizes the second figure that appears from behind the first.

...

The previous writer’s block disappears as fast as it had appeared. His fingers are now flying across the keyboard as he continues to write the perfect plan. In fact, he is so captivated by the growing paragraphs that he does not notice when another figure appears from behind. 

“What are you doing?” your voice startles him. 

He whirls around and snaps his notebook shut. You stand behind with a slightly surprised expression on your face. He is able to tell because your large eyes are wider than usual, and your mouth makes a small “o”. 

Time had flown by so quickly that he had forgotten he was supposed to meet you at 1:00pm. Quickly checking his watch, he sees that the time is 12:50pm. 

“You’re here early,” he notes. Scooting over, he then pats the seat next to him. You timidly follow his instructions and sit down beside him. The scarf you wear loosens as the wind blows and you fix it once. 

“I was just in the area. Do you like croissants? I bypassed a popular bistro on the way here and bought us some.” You hand him the small box. “I know croissants are unexpected from a place like that, but I can promise you – they’re really good!”

Jungkook peeks in the box. Packaged in rows, there is a set of treats in chocolate, strawberry cream cheese and plain. 

“Sets of three,” Jungkook mumbles. 

You look up at him. “Sorry?” 

He gives you a small laugh, yet minute as it is, it still makes your heart tumble. “A set of three. I like working in sets of three,” he tells you. Jungkook opts for the original.

You wait until he takes a bite before a smile breaks across you face. “Good, huh?” 

He nods, crumbs falling onto his laptop. He brushes them away before they can dirty it further.

“What did you want to meet me for?” he asks you. 

From the strangely shaped bag you had brought with you, you take out a wooden stand and a large piece of rolled paper. He watches as you set up you easel and clips the paper to the side. It is blank. 

“I come here often to paint,” you explain as you take out another small bag that is filled with sketching tools, “I think it’s so beautiful here.” You don’t add that you had chosen this place because when Baekhyun first disappeared, this was the closest you could be to Jimin without actually bothering him at the station. 

“So you called me here to watch you paint?” 

“Sketch, actually. Today I’m here to sketch but in a couple of days I should be able to paint.” 

Jungkook leans back in his seat. He sees that a new light has taken over your eyes as you take everything from the park into memory. Your pencil twirls in your fingers. Another small gust of wind blows the scarf away from your neck. 

Over their time together, they had become so used to being in each other’s presence that you no longer shy away from him. There were moments when you would be reminded of the first night he stayed at your house, but believe you are not one to dwell in the past so you quickly forget it. At this moment, he is drawing the collar of your jacket up and fixing your scarf so that it would no longer loosen. 

While he is helping you, you continue to talk, “You know, ever since I saw you, a feeling has been itching at me. I kept thinking that before bumping into you at the station, I had seen you before! Now I know. You were the guy who thought I was a street artist!”

Jungkook’s fingers falter as he sets them back on his lap. He does not move. What was it you had just said?

“I was at the square near my studio that evening. It was particularly nice. I remember a small ensemble playing classical music too. You had been the one to knock over my canvas.” 

No. It was not him. 

“Wait. It wasn’t you. It was the lady you were with!” When you remember, you gasps. 

Jungkook turns when he hears you. There was not supposed to be a single person that could have remembered him with Sara that night. That was never part of the plan. When he turns his focus on you, there is a look of shock and realization. A fire begins to burn in his stomach. 

You hold your hand to your mouth. You can see that Jungkook is staring at you and the guilt eats away inside. You should have seen it coming. He was a handsome, intelligent and skilled man. He had showed up out of nowhere. He was also a stranger to the city. The two of you had met outside the station. Of course he could not be here simply because of work. 

He must have been here with his girlfriend. 

And they had bumped into you that night on their date. 

“Y/N, what is it?” Jungkook asks gently. 

You sets the pencil down on the easel. “That woman you were with… That’s your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Oh my god… if she were to know that you’re staying with me right now. She would probably think that I’m some girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.” 

Your face only reddens more when Jungkook’s laughter echoes around the park. It lasts for quite a while and you do not know whether you are feeling humiliated or angry at him laughing at you. 

He catches his breath and smiles widely at you. “That wasn’t my girlfriend. She was someone I was meeting for the night.” 

“For a date?”

“No. For work.” 

You do not know why, but you breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I also remember you liking my painting. Do you remember?” 

He gives you another smile. “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t.” 

Disappointment makes your chest ache. Never good at hiding your emotions, it makes him smile again when he sees the obvious frown. He places a hand over yours. “I’d still love a painting though, if that’s what you’re offering this time.” It is infectious, that is what his smile is. You take you hand away from beneath his and regard the quiet scenic park again. “Do you like this place? Should I paint something for you here?” 

He nods. “I’ll like anything you paint for me, Y/N.” 

You blush at the way he says it so matter-of-factly. Looking up, you scan the surroundings once again before a large shadow rushes towards you and grabs your wrist. 

You are hauled up to your feet roughly.

...

Seeing you so casually walking up to that man made him mad. But it wasn’t that which made him practically race across the park. No, it was the combination of him fixing your scarf, laughing with you and then taking your hand. He cannot allow such a thing to happen. 

“Jimin!” you yelp, the pain cutting through your wrist. It burns and you feel as if somebody had dug a knife into your skin to split your bones. 

Jimin has momentarily forgotten your disorder as he is blinded my rage. How dare Jungkook be sitting beside you like the two of you are friends? This man may be involved in a murder case. He may as well be the only suspect. 

“What are you doing here with him?” Jimin demands. 

You can barely get the words out – that is how tight Jimin is gripping your wrist and hurting you. 

Jungkook is still seated, but upon seeing your face turning bright red and perspiration beading your forehead, he stands. “Detective Park, I believe you are hurting Y/N.” 

His words are a cold splash of water on Jimin. He quickly releases you and you whimper while holding your wrist. He reaches towards you, but you draw back, closer to Jungkook. 

“I’m so sorry,” his apology is gushes, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You rub your wrist. You know it is not broken, but the pain lingers still. You gingerly rotate it before shaking your head. “I’m fine. You took me by surprise though.” 

Seeing the discomfort in your eyes, Jimin instantly feels guilty. The first time he sees you after the fight and he manages to hurt you again. “What are you doing here?” he asks again. He wants to add “with him” but he did not think it was appropriate. 

“I was meeting Jungkook. I wanted to do some sketches for a painting.”

He hated your causal use of the name. He hated it with such a passion. 

“Detective Park, it’s been a while,” Jungkook extends a hand. 

Jimin clenches his jaw but grabs it and shakes it forcefully. “Mr. Jeon,” he says through his teeth. 

You can detect the hostility between the two men. You knew Jimin didn’t like Jungkook but you couldn’t see his reason why. Jungkook had only ever been nice to you. Really, Jungkook was one of the nicest people you know. 

“Why did you need to meet him to do sketches? I didn’t even know the two of you knew each other,” Jimin begins interrogating. 

You falter. You had been so caught up in the previous few days you had forgotten to tell him your new housemate. Truth be told, the whole situation is so unusual for the two of you because you would talk to each other nearly every day. 

“I’m temporarily living with her,” Jungkook says, unable to resist the temptation. He has already calculated and anticipated the change that would occur over Jimin’s face once he says those words. He knows that it would affect you more, but there is a type of satisfaction in seeing the rage that spreads over Jimin’s face.

It takes everything in his already weak power to hold his emotions in. Heat is already flowing to his face in which he could not control, but he could still stop the explosion of curses from leaving his mouth. 

Your mouth is opened ajar once again. All the worse scenarios are running through your head. 

Jungkook sheepishly rubs his neck. “Oh, this is awkward. I thought you had told him, Y/N. You two seemed so close.” 

Oh yes. It is absolutely delightful in seeing the impact of his words on Detective Park Jimin. 

“I – ” you start, “I didn’t get the chance to yet. Um, well… Jimin…. Jungkook is staying at my place for now. He has no other – ”

“We need to talk,” Jimin interrupts you. 

You open your mouth and close it again. “Okay,” you say timidly. You start to walk towards him. 

“Grab your things with you,” Jimin says sternly. 

You want to refute his words but there is a sort of silent anger you recognize. You send Jungkook an apologetic look before packing away your easel and paper. Jimin waits for you and you quickly whisper, “I’m sorry,” before going away. 

The two walk away like a father leading his disobedient daughter. Jungkook can only watch with amusement at the new turn of events.

...

“You’re living with him? You’re living with him? You’re living with him?!” You hear Jimin repeat the series of questions again. Your finger lightly taps your thigh and you note to yourself: the sixth time. That was the sixth time he asked the same question.

Jimin had thought for a long time on their walk to the station of what he could say. Countless words had been flying through his mind however he just couldn’t seem to find the correct ones to string together. That had led him to only repeat the one fact he is being faced with: You are living with Jungkook. 

You sigh. “Yes, Jimin, I’m living with him.” 

“How could you decide to do that without talking to me about it?” he explodes at last, “You barely know this guy and you invite him into your house? He’s a criminal. He’s a murderer.”

This makes you frown. Your eyebrows crease together and even your pretty face cannot hide the ugliness of your anger. “Park Jimin,” you start sternly with his name, “I don’t think it’s fair for you to make that assumption. I don’t even think you should be making that assumption.” 

“Still, the two of you are living together!”

You sigh again.

Jimin stops in the middle his pacing for a second to collect his thoughts. “Fine. But what makes you think you know him enough to decide whether or not my assumption is fair?” 

“Well, what makes you think you have enough power over me to stop who I’m living with?”

“I have a responsibility for you, Y/N! I don’t want you to get hurt. Jeon Jungkook is dangerous!”

“There you go again! Making another assumption! Why are you even saying this?”

“You know exactly why. It’s because – ”

“If you say that it’s because of your gut feeling I’m going to walk away right now.” 

He pauses. “I just know, alright? I have evidence against him.” 

“Show it to me, then.” 

Presently, the two of you are arguing inside Jimin’s office. The blinds have been drawn, but the glass door is definitely not enough to hide the increasing voices. Jimin rummages through the multitude of papers and files on his desk. His thoughts are once again jumbled. He is unable to think straight at the moment and it makes him forget where he has put the files in the first place. 

“You don’t have it, do you?” you accuse, “You just hate him. I don’t know what your reason is, but that’s mean. Jungkook is a good person. He takes care of me.” 

Your tone is filled with exasperation. You did not enjoy when things did not go your way. Neither did he. That is the reason why the two of you tend to avoid conflicts by not being involved in each other’s personal matters. This time, however, Jimin needs his stance to be known. 

“You’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? What do you mean ‘he takes care of you’? He barely even knows anything about you.” 

You do not bother to correct Jimin that it has in fact been less than that. “He’s taken care of me more than you have alright?” you stab him with the words. Your face flushes the moment they leave your mouth.

Jimin’s next words are so calm, they border on hostility. “More than I have, you say? Please, enlighten me.” 

“He… He supports me. He’s there for me when I need him. He’s… He’s…” With each stutter, you can feel yourself losing this fight. Pride and rage cloud your judgment, and nonetheless, you throw out your last attack, “He doesn’t try to convince me that my fiancée was murdered.” 

His eyes become hard. 

There are tears wavering in you eyes and you tell yourself not to blink such that they would not fall. “You tell me to try and move on after Baekhyun’s disappearance.  You tell me that it’s for my own good; all this pain and guilt and frustration at losing him… You’re just as guilty, Jimin. You’ve never put Baekhyun behind you and now you’re saying something as ludicrous as him being murdered. I won’t accept it.” 

He hates seeing you cry. He hates it so much. He hates it enough to contemplate easing up on your decision to live with this stranger.

No. 

Walking away from you, he digs through his jacket pocket and produces an extra set of keys. He had learned to carry this around with him since knowing you. He never knew when you needed to come by and borrow his house keys. 

“Take this,” he places the keys into you palm and curls your fingers around them, “When you’re done with this tantrum… or whatever this is, come home. I understand that Jeon Jungkook needs a place to live, so rent out your place to him. But I cannot have you staying alone with him. You are to live with me while he is an occupant there.” 

You scoff at him, incredulously. You grip the keys in your hand before slamming them soundly on his desk. 

“I am not a child,” you solemnly say, “You cannot control me like this. I am a free to make my own decisions, and I will do what I want.”

With that, you spin on your heels to exit the office. Your pulse is racing as you turn to face him again. You avoid looking directly at him but stare above past his forehead. You are afraid that if you see his expression, you would falter. 

“I respect your decision to not like Jungkook. But if that’s the case, and as Jungkook is living with me, you are free to never come by my place. We will not welcome a guest who only has the intent of unsound accusation.” 

You end the argument with that and stomps out the door.

...

Jungkook is waiting for you outside the station as you leave. You are so blinded by your emotions you nearly miss him until he grabs your wrist and causes you to yelp. 

Immediately, he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

You still want to yell at somebody, but Jimin’s injustice towards Jungkook stops you from screaming. You rub you wrist that is still sore from being grabbed previously. Adjusting the strap of your canvas on your back, you continue to walk forward.

“He’s so unfair,” you whisper.

Jungkook catches it. 

“Nobody ever asked him to look out for me. I would have been fine,” you say. 

“He cares for you,” Jungkook says gently. 

You do not want to hear the words. Still, it is not like you can ignore them once they’re heard. 

“He is worried. I am a stranger, and a man. Unfortunately, society has a stigma around single strange men who sneak up to a female to offer his phone while it is pouring rain in the middle of the night.” He tries to make a joke with you. Thankfully, it works as you lightly laugh. 

“Well, still. Jimin is being stubborn. He has prejudices against you; ones that have no basis.” 

“Let me guess. He thinks I’m dangerous. He thinks I might hurt you. With my involvement in his case, he might even think that I’m a suspect.” 

You do not want to answer. 

Jungkook stops you from walking. Your strides have been short but only increasing in speed. He is no longer sure if you even know where they are walking. With one hand still on your shoulder, he says with a soft voice, “He has every right to think so, Y/N. We have only started to get to know each other We both have secrets that we have yet to reveal to each other. Perhaps I am dangerous. Perhaps I may have the intent to hurt you.”

You look into his eyes which steadily hold you own. “But you won’t, right?” 

He smiles at you. “Of course not.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” you say with resolution, “That’s what a relationship is built on. The slow accumulation of trust towards the other party. I don’t care if you have secrets, Jungkook. If you ever do want to share them, I will listen. But at the end, you don’t have to. I want to know you as you.”

He nods. Now with the rollercoaster of emotions within you coming to an end, you are able to see that the weather is beautiful that day. There is the soft melodious chirping of birds from all around you, and the streets are not busy as people have yet to be off work. A warm patch of heat is on your back as the sun greets you between the clouds.

Jungkook is quiet beside you for a while, until he says out of the blue, “Jimin really loves you.”

You whirl to regard him. “Jimin doesn’t love me. He is only tasked to look after me.”

His eyes soften when he looks at you again. He doesn’t follow up with anything, only turning his head back forward.

The speed of your heart’s beating rises slightly at his comment. You do not understand the purpose of him saying that. You do not understand what led to him to say such a thing.

“Jungkook,” you call out.

“Mhmm?”

“I still want to paint a picture for you. But I don’t think I can right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You had stopped walking beside him. He notices that and stops as well. When he finally turns to look at why you had stopped, he is greeted with the image of you standing with your wrist in the air. He sighs in concern and takes your wrist gently.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he says kindly.

...

next part 

[heyitsani]

Sneak Peek Saturday

What’s this?  A Saturday sneak peek?  

Yup!

So this is one of my options I’m toying with for my ABO submission for JD Week and I’m really just posting this to see if it garners enough interest.  

I’m sorry in advance for the rambling you’re about to be exposed to.

The basic idea of this world is that everyone is a designation (alpha/beta/omega) and all are equal.  But among the masses there are rare designations of a True Alpha and a True Omega.  And the idea is that they were designed to be compatible mates that would lead packs.  Back before society took over and everything became much more civilized.  So as society changed, the need for this designation diminished because “packs” had a lot less structure.  But there are still some who are born with the designation and it is obvious by scent when they present if they are of that designation.  

Now because of the compatibility factor, they are unable to break bonds like standard ABO designations.  So in the event of a True Omega’s death, the True Alpha would also die within the week.  But in the event of the alpha’s death, the omega would just become a shade of themselves.  Because they are deemed the nurturer of the “pack” they survive to care for the pack, barely.

Okay premise of the story is:

Dick has already presented as a True Omega, but thanks to Bruce’s tech he is able to hide that designation so most just think he’s a normal omega.  Then one day he’s visiting the Manor and catches Jason in mid-presentation as a True Alpha, to which Jason responds violently.  To try and calm him, Dick uses his scent but it results in Jason giving him a mating bite.  Which obviously is against Dick’s will and cannot be broken.

The story follows the storyline of Jason dying and we get to explore how that effects Dick.  And then how his return from the dead (immediately and then after his trip to the Pit) changes Dick’s situation without Dick understanding why.

The story is really a character study of Dick and how he handles having something so important taken from him and the journey he takes through acceptance, loss, and recovery.  And then what happens when he finds out Jason’s actually alive and that’s why he got better.  

Okay, I’m done rambling.  Let me know if it’s interesting or not.  In the meantime, have a short scene from it.

As always, completely unedited.

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

“Richard, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Dick looked up from the case file he had been looking over and smiled at Damian.  “Of course, Little D.  What’s going on?”  Carefully shuffling the papers, he tucked them all inside the folder and closed it so his brother would know he had his undivided attention.  Something Dick was fairly sure the child still wasn’t used to from an adult.  Or anyone, for that matter.

“I overheard you and Pennyworth speaking about…”  He waved a hand in the direction of Dick’s neck but failed to meet his eyes.  “Your situation.  About Todd.”  Dick frowned. It wasn’t like the situation with Jason had been a secret, but it certainly hadn’t been one he had wanted to bring Damian into.  Especially since the kid hadn’t even known Jason.

“Okay?  Did you have a question about it?”

“No, I actually thought I might have a way for you to get an answer.”

“What?”

Damian shifted in his spot, still standing at the opposite side of the table Dick had been working at. And Dick couldn’t recall ever seeing him nervous before, but in this moment, he distinctly smelled like he was.

“Grandfather, not long before I came to Father, placed a True Alpha into the Pit.  I do not know if the Alpha’s mate was a True Omega like you are, but I do know he had a mate.  Perhaps, I can find out who he was previously, and we can find his mate.”  Dick considered what his brother was saying and leaned back in the chair with a heavy thud.  It would be nice to know if how he was feeling was normal, but did he really want to delve into that situation?  Whoever that alpha had been mated to got their mate back.  Dick wasn’t so lucky.  Jason was gone.  Long gone and he wasn’t coming back.  Dick was destined to have the memory of a mate he never fully mated with.

“Do you know his name? The True Alpha?”

“I do not.  He was a small man when he went into the pit, Mother said he had been young when he was taken cruelly from the world,” Damian shrugged, lifting his hands to grip the back of the chair in front of him.  “But even just a few months, he grew much larger in size. Dark hair with a white streak that Grandfather claimed was due to the cause of his death.  The permanent mark of the grave he crawled out of.”

Shuddering at the thought of Jason climbing out of his own grave in the manner that Damian was insinuating this alpha had, Dick banished the image from his mind.  He would not, could not, taint Jason’s memory with something so morbid.

“I never saw his eyes for what they should have been.  The Pit turns the eyes green until the madness has cleared.  It does not discriminate with that.”  

“Dami, do you think your mother would tell you his name?  Or any of the members you were close to?  Anything we can do to find who his mate was?”  Dick watched Damian consider the question and Dick hoped against hope that he would say someone could tell him the alpha’s name.  Maybe the mate would be able to confirm the bettering of symptoms over time.

“I shall send to her and find out.”

Giving a nod of thanks, Dick watched Damian hurry off and he considered what this could mean for him. He could have answers to the questions he and Alfred had been unable to answer.  Why had he suddenly started gaining his health and self back after about six months when none of the medical texts they could find had mentioned it happening in the past?  There hadn’t been a single mention of it.  Too many suicides and just as many having gone into hiding from society.

But Dick knew what he felt. He felt like himself.  He had felt like himself for a few years now.  And Leslie’s tests had confirmed his health. But why was there no other instance of this documented then?  Why was his case different?

[hermannsthumb]

Wrote it a year ago!! How efficient lol Did you already do 79?

Anonymous said: Have you done 79 about the ex gift finally being done?

79. we broke up almost three years ago but you message me out of the blue saying that my gift is finally done and you… you built me a house? [or choose your own gift!]

from winter writing prompts here

almost new year’s! i imagine this takes place somewhere in the pre-2025 PR timeline, not using pen pal canon, for extra awkwardness

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

“You what?” Hermann says.

On the other end of the holographic computer display, Newton laughs sheepishly and ducks his head. The picture is a bit rubbish—Shatterdome tech is outdated across every base, it would appear—but even the graininess and ghostly blue tint to Newton’s skin can’t conceal his blush. “I said I finished your present,” he repeats. “The one I promised you—shit. Two years ago? Three?”

“Three,” Hermann says, automatically. It’s not because he remembers any sort of gift ever being promised, but because three years ago is the last possible time he could ever imagine Newton gifting him something. They were still on good terms, three years ago; they were beyond good terms three years ago. He and Newton still—well. Er. “Though I don’t recall you ever mentioning a gift.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have, dummy,” Newton says. “That would’ve ruined the surprise.” He fixes his glasses. “My tracking number says it was delivered today. Did you get it?”

A stack of mail was indeed dropped off at Hermann’s laboratory today, shortly after lunch, though Hermann has not yet had the time to poke through it. He squints across his desk at it now: there is a larger box at the bottom of the stack, larger than anything he had been expecting, which can only be Newton’s present. Hermann slides it towards himself with the handle of his cane. Newt Geiszler, in the corner, with the return address of his laboratory in his Shatterdome. “Can you open it on camera?” Newton says. “I want to make sure it—well, you’ll see.”

Hermann tears open the tape seal with the nib of a dried-up pen, and pulls out an absurd amount of tissue paper before finding…a sweater. “Ah,��� Hermann says. He unfolds it. It’s nothing too terrible, like Hermann had (frankly) been expecting a sweater from Newton to be. A nice shade of brown, a nice thick wool, a bit simple and shapeless, but comfortable-looking nonetheless. He can’t imagine how Newton took three years to give it to him. “…Thank you, Newton?” Hermann says. “How…thoughtful.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Newton says with a grin.

Hermann shakes his head.

“It was ages ago,” Newton says. “We went out to that taco place for dinner, and I knocked your wine all over your sweater by accident, and you got super pissed, and I was like, dude, it’s just a sweater, I’ll buy you a new one, and then you—”

“Oh, God, I remember,” Hermann groans. It’d been towards the end of their, er, relationship, and every little thing about Newton had started to set Hermann off: Newton’s humming in the lab, Newton’s jokes, Newton’s clothing, Newton’s smile, even (a thought which made Hermann feel horrendously wretched), Newton’s insistence on Hermann getting a proper sleep, Newton’s coffee runs and lunch runs and fixing Hermann breakfast every morning… The wine spill had been one of the final straws, and one to which he—admittedly—far overreacted. Hermann could simply not see a way in which it wasn’t intentional, in which Newton did not do it deliberately and maliciously, and the row they’d had over their bloody burrito bowls and Hermann’s merlot pool had been one of their finest. I’ll buy you a new one, Newton had said, and Hermann had shouted back about that not being the point—how Newton could knit one and it still wouldn’t be the point—and called a cab to take him home. Separately from Newton.

Newton was knocking on the door to his bunk an hour later, eyes fixed on his shoes as he mumbled out another apology, and he’d looked so pitiful, and Hermann felt so guilty over leaving him with the bill that he had sighed out one of his own. They didn’t touch in bed that night, not even an accidental bumping of shoulders. In the morning Newton did not fetch Hermann coffee. They ended the whole thing two weeks later, and Newton was transferred to another Shatterdome by his own request not even a month after that.

And now, here he is, Skyping with Hermann. This is not a new development in their working relationship—each of them does, after all, gather information that could be crucial to the other party, and they’ve occasionally had to ring each other up for a virtual discussion that typically ends in bickering—but it is the first time they’re doing it outside typical laboratory hours. And it is the first time one of them has dared to bring up…certain events. Usually, they just skirt around the fact they dated for two years like their lives depend on it.

“Thought you might,” Newton says, with another uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, I know you said it wasn’t the point, but, I started teaching myself knitting a few days after that, because I really wanted to replace yours, and I’ve been super busy, so I kinda just finished a couple weeks ago.” He shrugs. “You can throw it out. I don’t really care.”

A closer examination of the sweater confirms the story. It’s far too lumpy to be anything but homemade, and the stiches fluctuate in dexterity and neatness throughout the whole thing, though grow better overall the further up from the hemline they are. It is indeed a similar shade of brown to Hermann’s ruined one. Hermann feels an odd lump start to swell in his throat. “Oh,” he says. He brushes his fingers over the hem; when Newton made those stitches, Hermann realizes, he still thought he would be gifting the sweater to Hermann as his boyfriend. “It’s—a very lovely gift, Newton. Thank you.”

“Try it on!” Newton urges.

Hermann obliges, though he flushes when he realizes it will require him to divest himself of his blazer and sweatervest in front of Newton. Newton’s sweater is a perfect fit, of course. Better yet, it’s comfortable. “Thank you,” Hermann repeats.

Hermann has always felt no small amount of shame over the breakup. It wasn’t really because of Newton’s humming, or his clothing, or anything quite so shallow, after all; it was because Newton was too damn affectionate. Loving. He loved Hermann so unabashedly and unashamedly, and Hermann—who has never been unabashed or unashamed in anything in his life—simply did not know how to handle it. It scared him. His feelings for Newton scared him, too, so he did the logical, Gottliebian thing and repressed them. The worst of it all was that Newton understood why.

Now, though—now his feelings, which he’d ignored for so long, threaten to bubble over. Of course he still loves Newton. It was foolish of him to pretend otherwise. “Newton,” he begins.

But Newton doesn’t hear him. “I was thinking about transferring back to Hong Kong,” he says. He fiddles with his glasses again, one of his nervous tics. “I don’t really have a team to lead anymore here—everyone’s been fired, or quit, or…well. I was thinking I’d probably be more useful back there with you.”

“With me?” Hermann says.

“I submitted a request, anyway,” Newton says.

Hermann wants Newton back here with him.

“There’s not much laboratory space, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hermann warns him. “We’ll have to share again.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind,” Newton says. Sirens suddenly begin going off on his end, and he winces. “Shit, that’s loud. We’ve been having kaiju drills all week, it’s driving me fucking insane. I gotta go, dude, talk to you later.”

He waves as he flickers out. Hermann’s holographic display clicks off with a small whir. “Goodbye,” Hermann murmurs.

He goes to sleep that night wearing the sweater, and hoping—foolishly, and perhaps selfishly, for he’s sure Newton’s work has been invaluable across the Shatterdomes he’s bounced between—that Newton’s transfer request is approved.

[justcourttee]

Love your stories. The premise for this one involves Plagg learning And overhearing about Lila’s deal With Gabriel. Spying on Adrien and keeping him away from ‘bad influences’. Plagg tells Adrien what he found out, Adrien is a bit reluctant, but when he heard of Lila sabotaging his friends and the involvement with the expulsion. Adrien finally has enough. Your take on how this goes out

This was such a good prompt that I literally had too many ideas of how I wanted it to go. Hopefully, this works :)

Because We’re Friends, Right?

“But Adrien! You have to believe me! It’s not like I was snooping on your father on purpose! I was just trying to find some more Camembert cheese!”

It felt useless arguing with their chosen. For whatever reason, the humans were fond of their personal space and Plagg phasing through walls was an apparent ‘invasion’ of that.

“Plagg, you know I keep a stash in my drawer, how did you blow through it this fast?”

“That’s not the point Adrien! I feel like you are just redirecting your anger at your father on me. After all, for someone who doesn’t like this pigtails girl, you sure got real red when I mentioned Lila setting her up.”

Plagg nudged Adrien’s arm, but it provided no relief. The tension was still strong in the air, almost as if a cataclysm couldn’t breakthrough.

“Plagg, there’s no way Lila is working for my father to keep my friend’s from me. Neither could be so cruel. Lila just wants to get her way and so does my father, I don’t see their agendas ever crossing.”

“Oh, really now, think about Pigtails getting expelled. You knew it was Lila, but you didn’t know what she had to gain from it right? But what did your father have to gain? An excuse to pull you out of school due to the mass amount of akumatizations that would've happened in one day.”

Adrien opened his mouth, ready to argue, but a small nagging thought sat at the back of his head. It was the first time his father had personally called him in a while, not Nathalie, to make sure he was okay and ask him to come back home.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re working together Plagg, it was just a really messed up coincidence. Besides, I know you’re just trying to take the conversation off of the fact that you left my room, again. You’ve gotta stop dude, what if someone catches you?”

Plagg shrugged their shoulders. Adrien was going to need a lot more than just words to convince him, that was for sure. So Plagg settled in, ignoring Adrien’s speech on privacy for the tenth time that month. Sure enough, sooner or later, Adrien was going to see that Plagg was right, and they couldn’t wait to rub it in his face.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Monday morning came and as Adrien exited his room, he found no other than Lila was waiting for him in the foyer, a fake smile plastered on her face as she chatted with Nathalie.

It was suspicious enough to see her standing so freely in his house, but he tried to brush it off, not let his imagination run wild with the stories Plagg had tried to sell him. She was probably there for a last-minute before class shoot that his father scheduled.

That had to be it.

“Hey, Adrien! I thought I’d ride with you to school today seeing as we’re not only school friends but now work buddies too!”

Adrien’s eyes darted to Nathalie’s face for any explanation, but he was given none as she stared straight ahead her usual expressionless look present.

“Sounds good Lila, after all, that’s what friends do huh? Maybe tomorrow we can invite Nino too.”

Nathalie shook her head, shutting down his idea before he even had a chance to fully ask.

“Miss Rossi was only allowed today due to your photoshoot at your lunch hour. Her stuff would be more conveniently located if it were already in the car than waiting for her to gather it from her locker.”

The excuse was pitiful, even Adrien could see through that. But as the small nagging voice in his head grew larger, his will to ignore it did too. There was no way Plagg was right, this was just another coincidence.

So without another word, he walked out the door, Lila practically skipping beside him as they slid into the car. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As the rest of the week passed, Adrien noticed Lila hanging around the house more and more. Sometimes to catch up on homework, sometimes, well, he wouldn’t even know she was there until he was slipping out his window, a quick glance of her exiting the gates as he landed on the nearest rooftop. As much as he didn’t want to, he was starting to think that he not only owed Plagg an apology but that it was also time to sit down with his father and finally ask him.

So he waited until their next scheduled dinner, the Thursday before a big photoshoot nonetheless, to strike. It was silent like usual, neither looking up much from their plates. Adrien simply wasn’t sure where to begin, but if he didn’t say something, this dinner would end all too soon.

“Uhm, father?”

Gabriel’s eyes rose slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure if he heard him right.

“What is it, Adrien?”

“I-” Adrien cleared his throat trying to swallow his growing nerves. “I just wanted to know why you hired Lila Rossi.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed as if it was a stupid question for him to ask. As if Lila made the most logical sense.

“She had quite the impressive resume. Miss Rossi has worked with many big names and is around your age. An older model would look bad on my part. That is all.”

He returned his attention back to his nearly finished plate leaving Adrien with a hundred more questions than he had time to ask. Adrien knew her resume was faked and if Nathalie had done her usual background check, she could’ve discovered that with ease. Something didn’t sit right.

“Father, Lila  Rossi has no connections.”

Gabriel’s frown sent a small shiver down Adrien’s back. He had never so openly defied his father, especially in their once a month dinners. It terrified him that angering him could mean never seeing him again.

“I was not made aware. Are you saying Nathalie is incompetent at the one job I hired her for?”

Adrien shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was get Nathalie in trouble when he knew that no matter what she did, his father, the perfectionist, always double-checked. There was no way he was so in the dark.

“Adrien, I suggest that you drop this topic. Lila Rossi would be an excellent friend and coworker for you, unlike your DJ friend or the young lady with the pigtails.”

The younger blonde opened his mouth to argue, but he saw no point. Without meaning to, his father already confirmed what he had feared.

Plagg was right.

“I apologize father. I will make more efforts to befriend Lila.”

No other words were spoken during their meal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Weeks came and went and Adrien only felt sicker about the idea. Lila wanted him to date her, his father wanted him to stay home. Lila seems to be working willingly with Hawkmoth who not only benefits her agenda, but his father’s as well.

The more he investigated, the worst he felt. He tried apologizing to Plagg, but the kwamii simply shook it off, only asking for more cheese to compensate for their hurt feelings.

Adrien debated talking to Marinette about it. After all, she was the only one who knew what Lila was like. But something stopped him. Marinette tried to warn him that her lies would hurt their friends, would hurt them, but he shook her off, told her that as long as they were in it together, it didn’t matter if the others knew.

Yet another person he would have to apologize to when this was all over.

As he turned the corner to the lockers, a small yelp caught his attention. Pressing his ear against the wooden door, he could faintly make out the conversation taking place inside.

“-I’m so sorry Nathaniel, please don’t be so upset with me. I asked Adrien to contact the publisher for a meeting because they knew each other better. I really thought I could trust him with such a small task for his friends.”

The sobbing was completely over the top, but unfortunately for him, it seemed to be working. Peeking through the small glass window, Adrien saw the redhead comforting Lila, his face a mixture of anger and disappointment and if Adrien had to take a guess, it wasn’t for Lila.

“It’s rude to spy on people.”

Adrien whipped his head around, his face matching Marinette’s own shade of red.

“Me? Spying? Oh, no, I was just, uh.”

Marinette giggled, the red on her cheeks rising until it reached the tips of her ears. It was adorable.

“It’s okay Adrien, I was just picking on you like you pick on me.”

“Oh,” his chuckle wasn’t as convincing as the red in his own cheeks seemed to meet the tips of his ears as well.

“Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Was she always so good at reading him or was he just an open book lately?

“We can’t talk here, follow me.”

He didn’t bother for her answer as he grabbed her hand, dragging her out into the courtyard. Scanning the area, he found the furthest open bench, bringing Marinette with him. As he sat down, he reluctantly let go, oblivious to the shade of red that had spread now to her neck as well.

“I think my father hired Lila to cause trouble at school in order to force me to come home.”

Marinette bit her lip, unsure how to respond. If it was true, so many things made sense, but it still raised a question.

“What would she gain from that?”

Adrien’s face confirmed her answer before he even spoke.

“As a model, especially a young one, it can be good for business if the models are seen as a couple. Lila has been trying to ask me out since she arrived. I thought that if I was nice, that if I gave in to her demands, she would eventually wear herself out, but here she is, still going strong. I-”

He paused, the image of Nathaniel’s upset face burned into his head.

“I think she’s trying to turn everyone against me so that I’ll choose to go home, where I’ll see her because of work.”

Adrien felt a soft touch on his cheek, the feeling starling him. Marinette reached forward again wiping a tear that he hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Adrien, maybe it’s time we told Alya and Nino. They’re our best friends. I’m sure they’ll understand, they might even know how to help.”

He wanted to shake his head. It would only cause a backlash and he couldn't risk Marinette getting caught in it, but at the same time, he’s left it alone for this long and it has only gotten worse.

“Maybe.”

Her smile was almost blinding as she offered him a hand to stand, apparently intent on seeking them out now. He hesitantly reached up, amazed at how strong she looked standing over him as if she would protect him to the end. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t put a finger on it, not when she was standing here so captivating.

“Adrien! How could you?”

Immediately he withdrew his hand as if he was a little kid, caught in the act. In front of him stood Lila, Nathaniel, and worse of all, Alya and Nino.

“When you said Marinette was your special friend, I thought you meant best friend, not the girl you were seeing behind my back.”

Marinette tried to deny it, but Lila wouldn’t even let her get a word in.

“I know you said you were only dating me to please your father, but I thought you were going to try to love me! I mean, I’m the only one who understands your world. Marinette couldn’t even keep up!”

Adrien looked at the gathering crowd, many of them wearing the same weary face.

Adrien, I-”

“That’s enough Lila.”

Silence spread throughout the courtyard as all eyes turned to them. He realized how loud his voice was, but it didn’t matter to him at the moment. In fact, he would get on top of the roof if he had to. He was done cowering away and he would be damned if he let her drag Marinette down.

“Let’s get one thing straight right here. I was not made aware of any arrangements you and my father have made for the company, therefore, I had no clue about this, about us dating. Let me also state that Marinette has more connections in the business that I have met face to face with her than I have standing by your side.”

Lila’s eyes were deadly as if threatening him to continue, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop.

“Marinette has done cover designs and costume accessories for Jagged Stone. You said you saved his non-existent kitten? Well, let’s have Marinette call him right now and see for sure. I mean surely someone who saved his prize animal would remember the name of its savior right?”

“He’s too busy right now, that’s not necessary-”

“And how about you teaching Clara dance moves? Marinette was actually picked to be the star in her music video and impressed Clara when she turned down the spot to get her friends in the video as well. She even came up with the idea that Clara used for her Miraculous music video. She has her phone number as well, shall we call her as well?”

“I-”

“What about your connections in the fashion business? Besides me, you have none. Marinette has managed to impress Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois with a derby hat, the same hat that she impressed my father with as well. Don’t doubt for a second that she couldn’t keep up in my world.”

The growing crowd seemed split, unsure who to believe. Alya and Nino had slinked away from Lila’s side as they comforted the very pale Marinette. Adrien wanted to rush over, be by her side as well, but he had to stand his ground, see it through to the end.

“I don’t understand Adrien, why are you doing this? You know I have a disease that causes me to lie, I just-”

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder sending a wave of shock through the girl.

“Because we’re friends, right?”

Lila’s eyes narrowed at his words.

“Friends can’t let other friends hurt themselves with lies, whether those lies were meant to wound or not. I understand you and my father have an arrangement, but with your condition, I don’t believe it would be best for you to be in the spotlight. If you don’t have a strong center, the cameras will eat you up. As your friend, I’m asking you to take a less stressful job.”

The group around them cooed as if Adrien caring about Lila’s health was just so in character of him. As if the two weren’t locked in a silent battle, one only they could see.

“Fine, I’ll resign tonight, but I doubt your father would like that very much.”

Her half-cocked smile worried him. She was obviously far from done, but for the moment he was ready to celebrate a small victory.

“Let me worry about my father, after all, what are friends for?”

Lila nodded, her head tilted as if seeing Adrien in a new light. He didn’t bother waiting around for her answer. Instead, he made his way over to where his friends’ stood.

“Marinette, I’m sorry about that. I know you were trying to keep your connections a secret.”

She shook her head ferociously, her eyes shining with what looked like pride.

“Adrien, we’re going to try and find Andre cart, would you like to come with us?”

“Like as couples?”

Marinette’s face flushed red as she began stumbling over her words, trying to back away, only failing when Alya pushed her back.

“Relax Marinette,” his chuckle surprised even himself. Why was it so easy to flirt with her? Was it just a friend thing? “Today we’ll go as friends, but maybe some other time we’ll try the couple thing.”

“Agreste, did you have to go and break her?”

Alya playfully shoved him as the four of them left the school, ignoring the stares they were receiving. It was so easy right now, but Adrien regretfully knew that it was just the calm before the storm.

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[strange-lace]

My first thing to do knowing hyperfixating on LEGO Monkie Kid is making a role swap AU because of course, though I was also inspired by @cassidyisnowdrawing ‘s Yellow Light Verse (that I really hope it doesn’t look like I’m copying you, I did my best to make them different from each other)!

So in this role swap, while everyone’s roles in the story are swapped (Mei’s the Monkie Kid, Red is her partner in crime, and MK serves DBK and PIF) their backstories haven’t changed, if that makes sense. Now while I keep their personalities similar to canon, they’re going to still have some differences due to their different circumstances.

Mei:

Mei would be a lot more insecure and eager to prove herself, both as Sun Wukong’s successor and her worth as a person since while I’m having backstories for the characters stay the same, I could see Mei and MK both being worse off self-esteem wise without having each other around growing up. 

She’d still just as bubbly, excitable, protective, and phone savvy as Canon!Mei, if not more so on the protective aspect. Tends to go absolutely apeshit the most when someone threatens Green, Pigsy, Tang, Sandy and eventually includes MK and her own mentor, Sun Wukong, under this umbrella.

Case in point: when she sees Sun Wukong and Macaque fight. Through sheer protective anger and hurt about being betrayed allows her to lift the staff and decimate Macaque.

Sun Wukong would get attached a lot quicker to his successor in this AU because Mei just has that energy which activates Parental Instincts he didn’t even know he had.

Does noodle deliveries for Pigsy but has also makes vlogs of what it’s like working at Pigsy’s Noodles. She says it’s to better advertise the shop, but really she just likes making memories that she can look back on and show others. Starts doing it while also being the Monkie Kid and training with Wukong.

Was genuinely scared/intimidated by Demon Kid upon first meeting him but was quick to find that while he’s got the dramatics of being a villain down, he fails at the aspect of actually partaking in villainous behavior. After that, they’re quick to transition from enemies to frenemies to just being friends.

Makes no effort to hide her wanting to be friends with Demon Kid and finds his quiet bewilderment at her friendship adorable but also kind of sad. 

A troublemaker despite her innocent face, which definitely makes Sun Wukong proud to see her causing chaos and get away with it. That, alongside her kind nature, are the reasons he chose her as his successor.

Creates tech for the team alongside Green, though their differing styles of inventing can cause complications or make the inventions backfire on them both, though she takes these more in stride compared to Green.

The undefeated queen in DDR and Monkey Mecha despite Green’s multiple attempts to dethrone her.

Mei: Hey, hey DBK look at me. DBK: [turns towards Mei] Mei: [ready to kick his ass] B I T C H!

A slight bit better at focus and following Wukong’s lessons compared to Canon!MK but still tends to get ahead of herself in wanting to learn flashier techniques before even getting the basics down.

Likes to wage psychological warfare on her enemies. By that I mean, she essentially likes pulling Bugs Bunny level antics to frustrate them to do stupid stuff in combat out of anger, allowing her to fuck them up with a smile on her face.

Green (AKA Red Son)

The most changed personality wise due to different circumstances in this AU, a lot more calm and composed to counteract Mei’s hyperactive demeanor and less prone to losing his temper. Though he’s still pretty uptight.

Is still the son of DBK and PIF but he had ran away some time after DBK had been imprisoned. Makes an effort to make sure he’s not recognized by anyone, dying his hair and wearing makeup. Still wears Canon!Red Son’s shades but they’re larger and he still dresses like a rich bitch because he has standards. He refuses to wear the color red for unknown reasons to Mei and the others, at least until they find out about his family.

Just as protective of Mei as she is of him, to the point he had some objections to her being chosen as Sun Wukong’s successor but eventually let it go once he saw how important it was to her. Begrudgingly chose to fight alongside her, thinking he might as well and avoid her getting herself killed. His way of showing he cares can appear condescending but Mei has known him long enough to know he really doesn’t see her incapable of taking care of herself.

Works alongside Mei to use their combined tech knowledge to combating the threat of DBK and his demon forces. However, his inventions can also have a tendency to backfire or not work as intended, much to his frustration.

Enjoys racing on his motorbike, participating in races across the city and often winning in 1st place. He is most definitely a cocky little bastard about his skill in racing, one the few things about himself that he puts a lot of pride in.

Had a complicated relationship with Demon Kid at first. At first, he resented the other for essentially being his parents attempt to “replace” him after he ran away and led himself to believe that he was much more appreciated by his parents for his control of his flames and magic power. However, that illusion is soon shattered once he sees how Demon Kid gets when they foil his plans since he’s familiar with that look of worry and resigned accepted that he’d have to go back to DBK and PIF with another failure on his back. Tries to show empathy after that without revealing his true identity, which only causes confusion for Mei and Demon Kid on how he’s so familiar with DBK, PIF, and demon culture as a whole.

The exhausted voice of reason among the team alongside Pigsy.

Often challenges Mei to video game championships which devolve to them play fighting once Mei inevitably beats him at everything.

Has his own façade of confidence but often fears not being strong enough to keep his found family safe but is too proud to admit until someone gets injured and he starts fearing for the worst.

Sun Wukong enjoys messing with him due to his uptight nature, especially at the Monkey King’s impishness.

Goes completely feral in combat once he gets the Dragon Sword. Even before that, he was willing to run over Demon Kid’s demon puppets with his bike to give Mei a hand.

Demon Kid (AKA MK)

A kid who’s a lot like Megamind: he lives for the dramatics and presentation of being a villain but fails at actually acting villainous when it comes down to it. Does his best to appear serious, intimidating, and someone not to mess with but that façade slips very often when it comes to things like being complimented or when someone mentions the Monkey King and he turns out to be a complete dork.

Not the son of DBK and PIF, but rather a low level demon that PIF had chose to be help her free DBK after Red Son had disappeared and she was left alone. Mainly because Demon Kid had no one else either and she saw potential with his strong magic, though it was rather out of control when they met. PIF had decided alongside DBK that they’d keep him around as an assistant/minion of sorts once he had helped her free DBK.

Since he doesn’t have Canon!Red Son’s prowess with technology, I considered instead that he’s skilled with magic and his own fire powers, using them a lot more in combat or during his schemes against Mei’s team. Still a major contributor to DBK’s army, but instead of the mechanical Bull Clones, perhaps Demon Kid instead supplies his king with sentient demon puppets given life through his magic. The armor can run the same, except with a magical angle instead of technology.

I have this idea that he’s actually able to pull out Sun Wukong’s staff on his own, much to his surprise. He’s quick to try and say it was due to a spell when PIF questions this. He’s left both amazed and terrified at the mere possibility of him being worthy to wield the staff of Sun Wukong himself.

His first meeting with Mei plays out similar to the show’s canon, though instead he intended on teleporting Mei away with a spell under the guise of “eliminating” her for DBK. Even while chasing her through the city, he was going to simply take the staff and scare her enough to never cross the Demon Bull King again. He tries to convince himself it’s to allow fear of DBK to be spread by leaving her alive but really, he just could never bring himself to kill or seriously harm someone.

Though like Canon!Red Son, he’s prone to losing his temper with others before immediately apologizing afterwards out of reflex. Also tends to teleport away from situations when he’s embarrassed himself, often saying he’s only allowing Mei and Green to win this time but next time will be different.

Spoiler alert: It rarely ever is.

DBK and PIF are often frustrated with Demon Kid because they know he has potential to bring Sun Wukong’s successor and her team to their knees with his powers and knowledge of magical spells but he fails to fulfill this because of his own inability to be cruel. They’re both like that episode of Spongebob where Plankton tries to teach him to be assertive/aggressive except they’re both Plankton and Demon Kid is Spongebob.

Quickly becomes attached to Mei and Green since they’re genuinely nice to him and while he insists that it’s because they’re his “personal archenemies”, he most definitely sees them as his friends and is constantly coming up with flashier schemes to impress/amuse them as well as get feedback from them. Was actually really lonely before meeting them, having to use his demon puppets for company. His attachment to Mei and Green can quickly evolve to possessiveness when he thinks someone is trying to take them away, whether they be other enemies that decide to fight them or a friend who is simply spending noticeable amount of time with them.

In the case of someone else trying to kill them, Demon Kid would be quick to shut that down and make that person immediately regret it since, in his words, he’s the only one allowed to destroy the two. This is one of the few situations where he gets completely serious and doesn’t bother with the theatrics.

Does his best to make himself look scary such as shoes to make him appear taller, jagged face paint, and perhaps sharp eyeliner to imitate PIF since he sees everyone fears her.

[aliwritesfic]

Our Black Hearts Part 2 (F!Reader x Jack "Whiskey" Daniels)

Summary: You decide it's time to come clean to Jack about the man he's after

W/C: 2k

Warnings: None for this chapter I think, but please tell me if I missed something

Spotify

Part 1

You loved working the towns garden. The feeling of warm dirt in your hands, the feeling of accomplishment watching something go from seedling to edible vegetable in the span of just a few weeks. Hell, sometimes you even relished in the ache in your back after a long day. It let you know you were alive.

It was while you planted a new crop of carrots that you rehearsed what you were going to say to Jack when you saw him next. Hello, I hope you don’t kill me for not telling you as soon as I was sure, but I know who killed your wife, and I think I know where to find him, or at least how to find people who know where he would be. We good?

You frowned as you dug into the earth, unable to escape the guilt gnawing at your insides like a parasite. You know you should’ve told him the first morning, when you woke up encased in his arms. But the way the pale pre-dawn light played on his skin distracted you. Then he woke up and he really distracted you. Then a week passed, and you still hadn’t summoned up the courage to tell him, despite several more rendezvous with him. You knew it would be worse the longer you waited, a somehow larger betrayal.

Of course, you could just lie, tell him you weren’t sure, but that wasn’t in your nature. You hated to lie, and you were fucking terrible at it. You had been since childhood, unable to hide your secrets from the scrutinizing gaze of your mother. Now, every time you tried to lie, you remembered the sharp blow to the back of your head you would receive, and instead you chose to just avoid the truth.

Straightening your back, you turned your gaze toward the cloudless blue sky. It was nearing midday, the hottest and most dangerous hours to be outside would soon be upon you. Already people had sequestered themselves inside, the only ones who couldn’t were those patrolling the perimeter of the town. Large sheets of rusted metal had been erected along the perimeter; the only protection afforded to those who protected the town. It had once struck you as deeply unfair, but now you knew it was necessary. Too many stories of towns being attacked at the suns highest point had reached your ears, chilled you to the bone.

“Chase,” the use of your nickname snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced behind you and saw Sparkie, the middle-aged man who oversaw the gardens waving to you. “Come inside before you get crispy.”

You obliged, abandoning your shovel in the dusty earth. It was only a couple degrees cooler inside the garden house but being in the shade made all the difference. The garden house was arguably the dirtiest building in the whole town, boot prints and stray tools littered the cracked tile floor, the entire thing smelt of fertilizer and no number of open windows could get rid of the stench. You sat yourself down on a plastic crate and turned your attention to the window.

In the distance you could see the perimeter wall of Deepwell, a single speck of a figure under the small metal sheet. No stupid hat, so it couldn’t have been Jack. You had learnt that he was assigned as a guardsman for the town, replacing the guard who had been brutally gunned down in a raid a month before he had arrived. At the thought of that, the image of the dead guard flashed in your mind – shot so many times in the face no one could identify them until a headcount of surviving guards had been taken. Her name had been Lydia, you found out later, and you hadn’t said more than three words to her.

~

A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, signalling it was safe to be in direct sunlight again. Jack stepped out from the small perimeter shelter and adjusted the grip on his rifle. He had learnt protocols during his first day of what was done directly after Midday. First, he had to make sure no one was trying to breach his appointed section of wall. Most days there was nothing, occasionally a pack of wild dogs or boar would be gathered drawn by the smell of living creatures. Once he had found a Skulker, barely clinging to life, sent crazy by sun and hunger and dehydration. Parts of her skin had melted away from time spent in the Toxic Plains, leaving shiny white bone. That had been an easy kill – a single bullet between the eyes before she had even realised he was there.

There was nothing today, only the ever-present patches dead earth and haze of heat on the horizon. Jack adjusted his dark glasses, traded a year back for a half blunt knife. They had become one of his most prized possessions, a saviour for his eyesight.

The next hour passed quietly on the outside of the wall. A single mutt had appeared briefly in the distance, Jack kept his gun trained on the creature until it had slinked away, disappearing over the horizon. He could’ve shot it, sent word to the fetchers about fresh meat, but the dog wasn’t worth the bullet. Its ribs and pelvis had stuck out from its body, more skin and bones than anything edible.

Sweat was beading down the back of his neck and dampening his shirt when relief finally arrived. His replacement was a burly teenager, arms criss-crossed with scars from a childhood spent living in the lawless no-mans-lands. Jack tipped his hat and handed the shotgun to the kid.

“Happy watchin’,” he said with an easy grin. The kid grunted in response, turning to face the vast nothing in front of them.

It was mid-afternoon, early enough for the water troughs to be devoid of most people and late enough that the water wouldn’t be boiling hot anymore. The troughs were close to the well for which the town was named, though the well was just a hole in the ground fenced off by frayed rope. It was the towns only source of clean water, so deep underground it took almost five minutes for it to be pumped up.

The troughs were worked by just one woman, who Jack thought probably had the worst job in the whole town. Keeping the troughs filled and clean, making sure the stores were stocked with enough for the townspeople to clean themselves with. Not to mention having to wash the clothes of anyone who asked. Jack avoided asking for as long as he could, only going to her when the stench became too much for him to be able to deal with on his own.

Today, fortunately, his clothes weren’t an issue. He stripped down, folding his clothes neatly before easing himself into one of the troughs. He dunked his head under the warm water, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. He didn’t have the luxury of soap today, having worn through his last bar before he could find a suitable trade for a replacement. Jack didn’t mind though – sometimes the water itself was enough to feel clean.

“Jack,” Chase was standing at the foot of his trough, hands on her hips. Well this is a nice surprise Jack thought as he sat up, pushing his wet hair back. Her face was shiny with sweat and streaked with dirt that seemed to attach itself to any available bit of skin.

“Hello, Doll.” He had taken to calling her that, preferring it to Chase. At least, he preferred it when he was trying to seduce her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, and Jack’s blood ran instantly cold.

“You’re not – you know?” He gestured to her stomach. Chase looked down, confused, before realization dawned on her face.

“It’s been a week, Jack, Maker help me! No. Didn’t you learn anything about how babies are actually made when you were married?” Chase raised an incredulous brow at him. Jack shrugged. “I have a book on that, you should give it a read.”

Jack rubbed at his legs with a scrap piece of cloth, knowing he was not going to read that book. “So, what’d ya need, doll? Come to take another ride?” Chase rolled her eyes.

“No. I need to talk to you-” Chase hesitated, looking conflicted. “Look, just don’t hate me, please.” Jack sat forward, suddenly intrigued.

“Well, don’t leave me hangin’ in suspense,” Jack said.

“I know who killed your wife. I can find him.”

Jack’s ears rang for a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You . . .”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Chase crouched down next to the trough as she spoke, her eyes imploring him to understand. “I wasn’t sure it was him; I thought he was dead! But – but it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Who is he? How do you know?” Jack tried to keep the pain out of his voice. How long has she known, he wondered, and not told him?

Chase at least had the decency to look ashamed. “He’s – his name is Elijah. He’s missing an eye because ten years ago I stabbed him, thought I killed him too. I tried to kill him!”

“Chase, who is he to you? Are you sure you can find him?”

“I can find him. I still have connections with his old crowd, someone there will know where he is.” Chase rubbed her face, somehow smearing on even more dirt. “If I tell you who he is . . . just don’t hold it against me, okay?”

“No promises,” Jack said.

“He’s my brother. Womb brother, actually.”

“You tried to kill your brother?” Jack was too shocked to feel angry. He was an only child, but from what he knew, the bond between siblings was one of the strongest, especially those bonded in the womb.

“You’ve met him,” Chase shrugged helplessly, “he’s – look I’m not gonna pretend that I deserve understanding for keeping this from you. But now I know he’s alive . . .” she trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Tell me where to find him.” Jack said.

“No, you need me.” Chase shook her head. “You won’t get far without me, I promise you that.”

Jack scoffed at her. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not, I’m being realistic. You don’t know Elijah like I do. He’s paranoid, delusional, he thinks he’s a fucking god. You won’t get within ten feet of him without someone blowing your brains out. If you’re serious about this revenge thing, you need me.”

Jack pushed himself out of the trough and began to dry off quickly in the sun. Still naked, he turned to face Chase, arms crossed over his chest. “And just why are you so damn insistent on comin’ with me? You could tell me what you know, I could hire any number of mercs who could get the job done better than you, and you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty . . . well dirtier than they already are.”

Chase took a deep breath, evidently to calm herself down. “I need to make sure what I started is finished. Someone has to kill Elijah, and I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s dead.”

The look on her face told Jack she was completely serious. He considered for a few moments, pulling his clothes back on. If everything she said was true, he would need her help, to find Elijah, to get close enough to kill him. But –

“If you tried to kill him, how can you get close without you getting your head blown off?” Jack combed his fingers through his hair and secured it with his hat.

“He doesn’t know it was me. It’s a long story but you just have to trust me.”

Jack considered the woman standing in front of him. Of course, he didn’t trust her – it was stupid to trust anybody. But it was his only chance, he was beginning to realise, and she’d have to come along whether he wanted it or not. Which given his current mood regarding her keeping this from him, he did not.

“Alright, get your shit ready. I’m leaving at dusk.”

Tagging: @sharkbait77 @quica-quica-quica <3 <3

[arahul-abyssia]

Festive

Writing number 4 for Nintember (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern )! To hopefully escape the pit of Emotions™ that was the first three stories, here's some hopefully much much much lighter, more slice-of-life-ish fare.

This does correspond to prompts 16-20, but I got caught up in Real Life for a while, so it's going up mega-late, and also it's kinda... abridged from its original concept, and less polished. 'Tis the way the cookie hath crumbled this year...

~~ Horse, Color, Hats, World, Music ~~

Layna awoke to a loud and repetitive hooting in her ear. She blearily turned her head to the side to find a pair of black-framed bright red eyes staring at her with interest. It took several moments of staring before she was mentally present enough to avert her gaze, sit up, and look out the window at the horizon. As she had expected, the sun had only barely risen fully above it.

She turned back to her greeter. “Relos! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?”

Relos merely, and quite literally, hooted with laughter and flew off out of her room. Layna knew it was futile to keep telling him not to wake her, not because of any obligation or the masterful internal clock of his, but because he knew she didn’t like it and he was a mischief-mongering imp.

Normally, she’d roll over and try to get a few more minutes of sleep, but that day was the first of one of the best weeks of the entire year, and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She quickly pulled herself from her bed, cleaned and dressed herself, grabbed the pack she had prepared the night before, and hurried downstairs, hoping to get through the delightfully aromatic kitchen and out the door before--

“Aaaalwaaaalrwaaa!”

Standing between Layna and the door was the soft pink-and-cream form of Infra, who was gazing up at her with strikingly accusatory eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Infra, I know I haven’t eaten.”

“Laaalruuwaar!”

“It’s the first day of the festival and I want to do as much as I can! I’ll get something from one of the vendors.”

“Luulrwarraalyaaa!”

“Ugh…! Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

Begrudgingly, she returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, as Infra went to the stove, gingerly placed an assortment of breakfast foods onto a plate, and set it before Layna, smiling at her with fairy-pink eyes that had nary a semblance of her previous visage. Unlike the rest of Pokémon in her family’s home, who were all quite content to leave the human part of the family to do as they pleased, the Audino practically operated like another mother to her, as if she needed a third one on top of her human two (who also were often subject to Infra’s mothering). Somehow, she had learned how to do a whole plethora of human home tasks and chores, and she never let Layna leave home in the morning without ensuring that she’d eaten. An outside observer might wonder why a Pokémon was apparently her morning caretaker, and not either or both of her mothers, but with both of them having jobs that began long before dawn, it was simply how things were in their house.

She had to admit that Infra was a surprisingly good cook. This evaluation, however, was not based upon the food that she was at that moment rapidly stuffing into her mouth, but rather upon the numerous meals from days where she wasn’t dead-set on going elsewhere as soon as possible. That morning’s breakfast, while certainly of Infra’s normal calibre, was given no time to rest upon Layna’s taste buds, and may as well have been tasteless for all she cared.

As soon as the last bite of egg left her fork, she jumped to her feet, practically threw the plate and silverware into the sink, and darted for the door, calling out as she left, “‘Kthankyoubyyyyeeeeee!”

Infra was not impressed with her, as projectile kitchenware was dangerous and eating that quickly would likely give her a stomachache, but she’d have time later to worry about such things. Her next task was to prepare food for the rest of the Pokémon scattered about the house, who all were beginning to come to consciousness, probably due to the clatter of cutlery, and she set about with the same dutifulness and joy she always did.

Layna, of course, hadn’t even a single neuron focused upon Infra’s judgment, as she was far more concerned with sprinting down a steep road with wanton abandon, the countless colors and lights and tents and tarps of the festival visible in the distance. It had already entered full swing, always beginning with the dawn, and she wanted to explore as much as she could. She had considered bringing along some of the Pokémon, but not long later decided to bring them along later in the day instead. She did not know why she made this decision, nor did she care.

The streets that had been blocked off for the festival were already bustling with people and Pokémon alike, almost each and every one nearly as energized as Layna was. She promptly began to wander the streets, turning and spinning and looking about enough that she ought to have made herself sick, but this had not lasted for even five minutes before she was drawn to a larger vendor stall by an overpowering floral and fruity aroma.

As should be expected, an impossibly wide variety of flowers and fruits were on display, some having been made presentory and others still being attached to their plants, with countless more options upon the boards hanging from the awning.

“Well, hello there, young miss!” said one of the farmers behind the stand. “How can we help ya?”

“Oh, I’m just looking right now, sir.” She paused a moment, then was overtaken by a rather sudden curiosity. “There are so many flowers and berries here, how do you manage to pick and move them all?”

The farmer chuckled. “We have a lot of help, ‘specially around this time of year. Lot of it comes from extra hands, but it would still be impossible without the help of all our Pokémon, like ol’ Sitrus here.”

At this, he gestured to a Mudsdale beside him, which Layna had somehow managed to miss entirely.

“She’s lovely! And so… big…! I’ll bet she must be really strong, too!”

“More ‘n any of us could’ve expected! And she’s friendly, too; wanna pet her?”

Layna’s eyes immediately lit up. “Would I?!! I mean, uh, if she’ll let me…!”

The farmer laughed and brought the horse forward, and Layna tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her face. Sitrus took a moment to consider her latest contact, then, judging her satisfactory in that esoteric way few can ever decipher, leaned in to her touch. She giggled and stroked her a few times more, noting her fur’s strange combination of roughness and softness, before pulling her hand away. Sitrus, in turn, snorted a puff of hot air at Layna’s face before backing into the shade again.

“Aw, that means she likes you! Well, let me or any one of us know if ya want anything.”

“Will do, thank you!” Layna had no intention to buy anything at that time, not when there were countless other things to do and find and see at the festival. She proceeded to bury her face in several of the flowers around the stall, enveloping herself in their different, yet undeniably pleasant, scents, before scampering off to find some other point of interest.

She could have easily checked the maps of the festival area, which were scattered on boards and holographic signs all about the city and even available online, but this sounded boring and unfun, so she did not. Upon her winding, meandering, unfocused path through the streets were innumerable stalls and stands and attractions to take note of--more fruits and vegetables, tickets to special shows on later days, a ferris wheel to ride with someone else later, foreign cuisine and sweets--but it was not until she overheard the faint but unmistakable sound of music that she was drawn in once again.

Upon the boardwalk was a small stage with a frighteningly energetic group of musicians, surrounded by an even more enthusiastic crowd. They seemed to be in the middle of a rendition of a song Layna heard on the radio nearly every day, an anthem for Trainers detailing their goal to “Catch ‘em All.” She never saw the appeal--both of the song and of the objective--but it apparently spoke quite well to most others.

As they finished their performance--and on a much more somber note than the original song did--their main singer pulled the microphone from its stand and began pacing the stage. “I hope you folks are enjoying the show! Now, however, I’d like to take a break from the hype, and sing something a bit slower, something that’s… rather close to my heart.”

Layna watched as a Toxtricity--which had evidently been playing with the rest of the band, but which, just like the Mudsdale, she had failed at first to notice--stepped forward and began playing a slow guitar piece. The lead singer waited a moment, then began to sing a ballad in a tongue Layna could not understand. It was one she was certain she had heard before, but could not manage to identify it any way beyond that it was not the common tongue known by almost everyone across the world.

She tried to stay and listen, but immediately found that, beautiful though his singing was, she was not in the mood for slow music. Along with a small chunk of the band’s crowd, she turned and left, and returned to her aimless wandering and exploration.

Eventually, she found herself in a quarter rife with food vendors, most of whom had one or two individuals calling out and offering free samples. By the smells and descriptions alone, she was greatly tempted to take every single one she could. Of course, her mothers would likely have tried to limit how many she took so that she wouldn’t spoil her appetite for lunch, and Infra would surely have balked at the notion for the same reasons; also, most of the food in the area was rather far from being healthy. Indeed, she had significant reason to not do what she wanted to do.

However, none of those individuals were here to remind her, and as it turned out, the aromas were very persuasive. Layna marched forward and nabbed every sample in sight, only barely stopping to enjoy them before moving on to the next, and only doing so because of the crowds and lines slowing her down.

Her frenzy ended not fifteen minutes later, and as she looked about to find her next target of interest, she realized she had wound up on the very same street she had started on. Obviously, this would not do, as there were so many other, more interesting circles to walk in the festival’s streets.

However, with home being so near once again, she had half a mind to return to grab something to combat the rapidly rising sun, whose rays were just beginning to take too much precedence over the comfortable morning breeze…

“Twee-tweeoo-twrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Or maybe I won’t have to after all!

A black-and-brown blur was barrelling toward her from the sky, making a frankly obscene level of noise. She stood firm and faced it, staring unblinking at the rapidly encroaching avian, before ducking at a perfect, precise, and repeatedly practiced moment. Like clockwork, Layna’s vision was shaded by an off-kilter hat (which she quickly adjusted), and the feathery form of a Taillow alighted upon her shoulder, whose face she began to delicately stroke.

“Thank you for bringing me my hat, Lond! Wherever would I be without you?”

“Twrrrt-t-twiii!”

“Wait, no, don’t tell me: Infra wanted me to not burn in the sun and you wanted to not be stuck inside with Relos.”

“Twrr-twrr-twrr!”

“I thought so… well, now that you’re here, how about sticking with me for a bit of exploration? I’m sure there'll be plenty of stuff to try!”

Lond pretended to think for a moment, then gave another enthusiastic chirp.

Layna giggled. “In that case, we mustn’t waste any more time! Onward!”

And with no decay to her exuberance, she sprinted off into the festival once more.

[glenncoco4]

War Zone Ch. 6

A/N: Part of this story may sound familar to you guys. 😂

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

Present

He steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered, as he pulls the towel off his head, his jaw immediately dropping at the sight before him. Standing across the room in a figure hugging black dress that excentuates her bump and her larger breast is his gorgeous wife. “Wow, maybe we should just order in and…do stuff.”

She can’t help the implication at his words as he comes up behind her, his lips immediately finding the hollow of her neck. “There’ll be plenty of time for that tonight but we have to go.”

He sighs, his chin finding its place on her shoulder as his eyes lock with hers in the mirror.“Seriously, who gets married on New Years?”

“I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s just as stubborn as I am.”

“You Blye women always get your way.”

Her eyes light up, as she turns around in his arms, her semi-protruding belly pressed between them. She leans in, closing the distance between their lips unable to wipe the smile off her face. “Yes. Yes we do.”

XXXX

December 31, 2008

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The Chief Petty Officer’s smile quickly fades as her team celebrates around her. Being separated from her husband for over 3 weeks now is effecting her in a way that she didn’t see coming. Stepping out of the tent, Kensi makes her way over towards her bunker, the sinking feeling of not being with him starts taking over. 2 weeks after the explosion she was sent back into the field. Marty had also gotten his new assignment, sadly in Kuwait, so they had 14 days really to take in that newly wedded bliss before coming back to the hot desert, but even then, those days were spent recovering from their injuries. 

She steps into the dark room, only the generator light a few yards away projecting enough light to illuminate the entrance and a bag that wasn’t there before. The air around her makes the blood immediately drain from her face...she’s not alone. Her hand finds the gun in her waistband as she slowly draws it out, keeping her eyes focused as her other hand reaches for the lamp switch. 

As the small light illuminates the room, her goes wide as the door shuts behind her. Sitting at her desk chair, facing her is that golden mop of hair with the grin that she’s missed so much spread across his face. 

“Kinky.”

She’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t stop her from sitting her gun on the table and launching herself towards him, her lips smashing into his.“What are you doing here?”

He pulls back just enough to get a full glimpse of those mismatched chocolate orbs that he’s missed so much. God he loves her. “I just got my new assignment.”

“And?”

“I’ll be following team 2.”

A mixture of shock and disbelief crosses her features, afraid that this is all a dream she can’t help but ask anyway.“Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently there’s this really badass, up and coming Chief Petty Officer that my boss wants to do a story on.”

Standing up from her place on his lap, she walks towards the door, making sure it’s locked and secure before turning around, her eyes focused solely on him as she begins to shed her clothes. “Lucky for you I have the inside scoop.”

He’s unable to wipe the grin from his face as she closes the distance between them once again, this time straddling his lap as his cock throbs with desire.“Lucky me.”

XXXX

Present

Their bodies sway with the music as they make their way across the makeshift dance floor. His lips find the crown of her head just as a breeze comes in off the Pacific, introducing an intoxicating scent of lavender and ocean air to his nose. 

She’s been waiting for them to get a moment alone together tonight, what with Talia, Sam and the rest of their family running around, interrupting them at any giving moment. Noticing that they’re all preoccupied at the moment, Kensi finally sees her chance. “So I have some news.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I was just talking to Sam’s friend Noah’s partner, she’s a Producer for this new crime show that’s being developed and they’re looking for a double/stunt person for one of the main characters.”

“And she asked you?”

She tilts her head back, her eyes locking with his, unable to stop the tears in her eyes at the hopefulness in his cerulean blues. Always so damn supportive. “Sam told her about me and how I have all the right training and looking for a new career to start after the baby comes, since I retired.”

“You told her yes, right?”

“I told her yes.”

He hugs her tight, as much as her protruding belly will let him and lifts her up. “Kens, that’s amazing!”

XXXX

January 1, 2009 - Early Morning

They both let out one more moan before he roles over onto his side, both trying to catch their breath.“So you never told me.”

“Never told you what?” The small light coming from the lamp in the corner, illuminating her curious chocolate orbs.

“If you weren’t a SEAL, what would you want to do?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

He nods, as he props his head against his hand. His attention solely focused on his wife. Honestly he’s not sure what to expect to come out of her mouth but he knows its gonna be good whatever it is. 

Mimicking his position, Kensi props her head against her hand, nervously biting her lip. She’s about to reveal something to him that she’s never told anyone before. The deep seeded issues she’s had from previous relationships has been weighing on her from the start of her relationship with her husband, but she has to remember that he’s different, in every aspect...he’s different. “I think I’d like to do stunt work for television and maybe film.”

“I could totally see you doing that.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. There’s no doubt in my mind that there isn’t anything that you can’t do.”

The excitement that’s shining in his cerulean blues, makes unfamiliar emotions starts to make themselves known. They’ve been together for almost a year and in that year he’s never made her feel like she doesn’t deserve all the love in the world, to be someone’s favorite person.“Stop.”

His brow furrows, confused at her reaction. “Stop, what?”

“Stop saying those things. I’m already in enough emotional distress as it is.”

Shaking his head, he brings his free hand across her naked waist, pulling her into him. He crashes his lips against hers, earning a moan from her lips. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, baby. I will never not support you. I wanna know every thing about you.”

Her lips find his once more, smiling at his words. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What would you do if you weren’t an investigative photographer?”

“I think I’d like to be a gigolo.”

She can’t hold back the cackle of laughter at his choice, even though she knows he’s just messing with her. “For real.”

“Okay, fine, a hand model.”

“Baby, seriously.” 

“Seriously?” His brow furrows, as his brain processes the question. He’s never really thought about being anything else but one idea does come to mind. “I think I’d like to be a teacher, you know, mold young minds. Maybe teach kids that there’s more of the world for them to see and how doing it through a lens magnifies just how intricate and special life around us is.”

She can’t help but be mesmerized by his words, the way his eyes light up when he’s talking about something important, just one of the reasons why she fell in love with him. 

Marty is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the dream filled gaze that his wife is giving him.“What?”

Shaking her head in awe, her nails find the scruff of his jaw as she gets lost in his eyes thinking about their future.“You’re gonna make a great dad one day.”

His throat goes dry at her words. He’s never really talked about his father, but she knows it wasn’t the best and the fact that those words left her lips means everything to him.“You have no idea how much that means to hear you say that.”

A playful spark shines in her eyes along with a smirk starting to curl at her lips. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

He nods his head, unable to stop the smile from spreading to his face. The look on her face does things to him that nothing ever has before. Quickly making his desire into action, he flips her on her back, straddling her. “Yes, and you’re the father.”

“I thought you said you were on the pill?”

“Yeah, Flintstone vitamins.” The same spark is in her eye as she lets out a belly laugh before her hand reaches for his neck, pulling him towards her. His lips meet hers hungrily as round 2 quickly begins.

XXXX

Present

The band continues to play a soft melody as the party starts to die down, she’s wrapped in his arms, relishing in this content moment with her husband. The cool ocean breeze coming off the Pacific sends her in a trance, thinking about their future and the little bean growing inside her. Being able to go through all of this with her best friend is something she never imagined until she met him. Tilting her head back, she smiles as her eyes meet his. 

“You look like you could use a nice long soak in a jacuzzi tub.”

“To bad we don’t have one at home.”

A knowing grin spreads to his lips. “Yeah, but the one in our hotel room does.”

“What did you do?”

“I may have booked us a room at the hotel next door.”

She can feel the heat pool in her belly as the look of unadulterated love shines in his eyes. “What are we still doing here?”

He can feel the warmth spread through his body as he watches her eyes grow a shade darker. Quickly taking hold of her hand, he pulls her along as they make a quick exit from the crowd, hurriedly making their way out of the reception.

XXXX

She laughs as her husband tries to maneuver them through the doorway, adamant that he carries across the threshold her bridal style. “Baby, I’m too heavy, put me down.”

He shakes his head, as he carries her into the room and towards their king size bed. “You, my beautiful wife are not heavy.” Gently sitting her down, his lips find hers as his hand cups her jaw. “Besides, what happens if you go into labor and can’t walk? I need to build up my strength.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be  able to walk?”

“I don’t know.”

Taking is short answer for what it his, Kensi pulls at his tie, coaxing him towards her. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” His words are followed by action, as his hand makes its way under the hem of her dress. She moans against his lips in appreciation before he pulls back, his eyes staring at her with reverence and all consuming love. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

“I mean I guess it would really depend. If it’s to hurt you, definitely not. If its to make you laugh, abso-“

She smiles as he continues to babble, no matter how much she denies it, listening to him just talk and talk is probably one of the most soothing things to her. But right now she really needs his hand to continue to do what it was doing along with his mouth. “Marty?”

“Huh?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“You’re the boss.” His hand makes its way further under the hem of her dress, as his fingers inch their way up her thigh and come into contact with soaked lace.

He pushes the material to the side, his fingers finding her wet folds, making her scream out in pleasure. “Marty!”

One thing that he knows will never get old is this...his beautiful wife screaming out his name, writhing beneath his touch. His tongue fights hers as her hand works its way beneath his briefs and finds his throbbing cock. “God, Kens.”

“Baby, more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Quickly standing up from the bed, he strips his pants and boxers from his body with no time to remove his shirt before she’s hiking her dress around her waist and on all fours in front of him, flaunting her wet folds.

As she situates herself on the pillows, he pumps his cock a few times before coming up behind her and sliding his hard member into her creamy, wet opening.

They both moan out in ecstasy as he pounds into her over and over again, the feeling of every bump and groove of his cock sliding against her in all the right places. It only takes a minute before they’re both creeping over the edge, screaming out the other’s name. They’re sent into oblivion as she matches his even faster pace before letting out one final moan.

Slowly pulling out of her, he finds his place next to her on the bed where she’s now laying flat on her back, panting as she tries to catch her breath. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Princess.” He turns his head, mesmerized by the glow of her skin and...her, before scooting in closer, bringing his lips to hers.

Her head finds his chest, the cotton of his dress shirt dampened by their latest activities. She starts toying with a button, lost in thought at the officality of this year and all it will bring. “Can you believe that time next year, there’ll be three of us?”

He places a kiss to the top of her head unable to hide the smile on his face. “Pretty great huh?”

“Yeah, but you know what else would be pretty great?” She tilts her head back, locking eyes with him knowing that he can already read her thoughts. 

“Bubble bath and cheesecake for two?”

She doesn’t respond, instead she takes action. Slowly standing up off the bed, she pulls her sun dress up and over her head, revealing her very much larger breast to her husband. His eyes immediately going wide as she sensually walks towards the bathroom where their next adventure awaits.  “Don’t forget the cheesecake.” 

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

[Kingdom Hearts] Turtle Mom

Summary: Written for @khuxweek, in which Ava temporarily adopts a turtle.

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,868

If you liked this story, please reblog!

☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆  

Daybreak Town’s underground waterways (including those that led to the true clock tower entrance) were scheduled to be drained on the first week of every month for cleaning. Unlike many things that the Foretellers were told to do by the Master, this was not one of them. Ava saw it as an opportunity.

Not that long ago, the Master had placed Ava in charge of a very special role. She was to find, recruit, and train exceptional Keyblade wielders for a new world. They were to be the surviving light of hope. Her lights. Her Dandelions. To find them, Ava had mentally set aside rules for herself. One of which involved these very waterways; should a wielder come to investigate the area well known to be off limits, then she would test them. 

The only setback was that she had to keep watch of the area. She knew a few charms that would alert her of a breach, but other than that, she had to physically walk down to keep an eye out. It was honestly rather boring. The lies she gave the others were pretty weak as well. She knew full well that Invi (and maybe even Gula) knew she came down here- but she wasn’t sure they knew why exactly.

It was during one of these boring excursions during the draining period that Ava saw something different. At first, she simply dismissed it as a Heartless. But upon stopping in her pacing to get a better look, she realized that it was a different creature. She laughed when she recognized the creature as a turtle. An incredibly small one too, as if it were nothing more than a hatchling, with an oval shaped shell colored in shades of dark green and muddy brown.

Not caring a lick of who could be watching, Ava smiled as she started to make her way into the canal. She held her robe up a bit as to not get the ends wet, even though she had drained the area of water a good two days prior. She got close enough to the turtle to stand next to it- admiring its little gait as it continued on its mission. Whatever that could have been.

Her awe made her bend down- an effort to get closer to its eye range. It still didn’t pay her much mind.

“Where are you off to in a place like this?” she softly asked the creature.

The turtle paused mid-step. It set down its foot before craning its neck up to look at Ava. If she didn’t know any better, Ava could have said that it gave her a look of utter contempt. Its attitude was further solidified when it gave her a series of clicks that indicated what it was doing, as if Ava had a way of knowing what it was.

“You won’t be going very far,” she then told it. “All the water is drained. When it comes back, we treat it with a special chemical so it stays clear and sparkling- even in winter. It won’t be safe for you here.”

Such news made the turtle pause in thought. He looked down at the tiled canal before looking back up at Ava. Giving a series of clicks once more, Ava came to realize something.

“You don’t have a home, do you?”

The turtle shook its head. A quick idea ran through Ava’s head right after. She smiled as she thought about it- no one ever said that she wasn’t the most impulsive of the Master’s apprentices.

“How about you come with me and see my home?” she offered. “Maybe we can even get you a little spot to rest before we relocate you somewhere else?”

The turtle thought this over for a moment before giving Ava a confident nod. Ava’s smile grew even wider.

“Great!” she declared. She then very carefully used one hand to lift the turtle by the bottom of his shell, then used another to place on top. As Ava carried the small (he was barely larger than her hand) turtle, she made sure to keep him close to her body. The little turtle gave several happy clicks from his new height. He could see so much!

Ava’s instinct upon going back into the clock tower was the head for the Foreteller’s chambers. She wasn’t even aware that everyone was there until she looked up.

“Hey everyone!” she called out, “Guess what I found in the waterways!”

Ira, Invi, Aced, and Gula all looked up from what they were doing and looked at her. It took a moment for them to realize that she was holding something. The turtle had decided to go inside his shell for the ride over, and so he looked nothing more than an odd shaped rock. At least, he could have to the untrained eye.

“Ava…” Invi sighed, “Not this again.”

Hearing such a disapproving tone, the turtle came out of his shell. No one had really anticipated the movement, and they all recoiled or jumped back in some way.

“What is that?!” Aced was the first to shout in surprise.

“It’s a turtle.” Ava cheerfully replied, holding the creature a bit closer to the flinching Aced. “I think I’m going to name him Shelby.”

“Oh, so Chirithy wasn’t enough for you?” Gula teased. “I see how it is. You’re always everyone’s favorite, Ava.”

“What? No!” Ava exclaimed in near fright. “I’m not…! He isn’t going to replace Chirithy. I just… want him to have a good home, that’s all.”

“A valiant attempt,” Invi agreed, “Although I doubt we have room for him here.”

“The Master has made it a rule that no other being can be in the tower than us.” Ira also piped up.

“I did say that. Moreover, I don’t think a turtle counts as a ‘being’, more like a ‘creature’. But that’s semantics.”

“Master!” the five of them declared as they got to their feet.

“At ease, soldiers.” their master told them, given them a wave of his hand. “Lemme see the little guy. You say his name is Shelby?”

Ava gave a quick nod before moving closer to the Master. She presented the turtle to him with a careful flourish. Shelby tilted its head at the black coated man. The hood of the coat was up, making it impossible to know what the man’s face looked like. Not that Shelby was going to care.

“I found him in the waterway, Master.” Ava even explained. “He doesn’t have a home, so I was wondering…”

“You always did wear your heart on your sleeve.” the Master mused, cutting Ava off, as he placed a hand on her fox mask. He then moved his hand to place it under what amounted to the turtle’s chin. The Master even moved a bit closer to be eye to eye with the creature. Shelby gave him a hard stare back.

“We’re keeping him.”

“Master!” Aced and Ira exclaimed at the same time. But their master only returned their concerns with a shrug. Gula had let out a rather loud snort, while Invi only gave a refraining sigh. Ava, on the other hand, happily squealed as she spun her and Shelby around. The Master gave a small smirk himself as he left the room. He could have stayed behind to further pester his apprentices, but he had a meeting for another apprentice. One who had a job almost as important as Ava’s.

Several months then went by from when Ava first adopted Shelby to the day the Master disappeared. In fact, Shelby was one of the last people to even see the Master before that. The turtle had near free reign as he lived in the clock tower with the others. His wanderings that day led him into the Master’s chambers were the Master himself was just finishing placing something into a black box. The Master was even humming some chipper tune as he locked the box up tight. When the Master realized that Shelby was there, he let out a sharp, horrified gasp.

“Shelby! How dare you sneak up on me like that!”

The turtle blinked. He gave a few clicks of his beak that indicated he had no idea what the Master was talking about.

“You of all people!” the Master went on, starting to make his way over, “Looking for spoilers before I go away. I knew the others would try to stop me, but you? You?! I trusted you Shelby Copernicus! I trusted you full heartedly and yet you still betrayed me. Unbelievable.”

Shelby just continued to stare in what could have counted as disbelief. The Master gave a little laugh at himself before he bent down to pick the turtle up. The little turtle didn’t exactly want to be picked up at the moment, but it had no choice but to do as the taller people wanted.

“You know,” the Master then noted, his tone a bit more somber, “Ava’s heart has really connected to yours. Everyone else’s too, really. But her heart is the one I see most with yours.”

Shelby tilted his head at the Master in confusion. The Master just gave a short chuckle before gently stroking the top of Shelby’s head.

“Just sleep, little fella.” the Master soothed. “You’ll be there when Ava needs you most. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shelby closed his little turtle eyes and went into a dreamless, undisturbed slumber.

. . .

Something felt off when Ava returned from training her Dandelions. When she couldn’t find Shelby in his play area or just roaming around, she knew that something was wrong. The pit in her stomach only seemed to grow when she walked into the Foreteller chambers and found that the others were there as well, apparently waiting around for her.

“Has anyone seen Shelby?” she asked. Her hands were wrung in each other out of nervous habit. “He’s gone missing.”

It was Ira who turned to look at her first. “We have far more concerning matters to address, Ava.” he informed her- his voice far more stern than usual.

“Why?” she then asked, looking around the room. “What happened?”

“Coincidentally enough,” Gula smirked, “The Master has gone missing too.”

“What?”

“How can any of us act so surprised?” Invi asked in a cool tone. “We all knew this day was going to happen.”

“Y-yeah, but…”

“None of us expected Luxu to disappear either.” Aced cut in, slamming his hands on the table. “How could he just abandon us like that? We were all the Master’s apprentices!”

“Calm down, Aced.” Invi admonished. “We’re just as shaken as you are. Ira, what should our next course of action be? You are our leader now, after all.”

As Ira went on with how the five of them would lead their Unions now, Ava took her usual seat and tried to listen. Her mind was buzzing with all this information. The Master and Luxu were gone now. It must have been a coincidence that they left the same day she couldn’t find Shelby. Had to. Even if it wasn’t, she had a feeling they’d all find each other again one day; may their hearts be their guiding key.

[yandere-wishes]

🕌 A Whole New World // Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Reader//🕌

Worst thing I’ve ever written 😭  😭 😭 😭 But it’s out before the new chapter so I’m content lol.

 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌

"Oh my isn't it amazing?" (y/n) hugged the book closer to her chest an excited squeal leaving her lips as she laid down flat on the plush Persian carpet. Kalim crawled over to where she was abandoning his conversation with Jamil and half-eaten sandwich. "What'cha reading," the young prince asked curiously. 

(y/n) lazily cracked open an eye, her bright smile ever-present. "It's the 1001 Arabian nights! The one by that famous storyteller from the Land of Hot Sands! " Her voice held a dreamy tone. Kalim's eyes widen in some sort of foreign comprehension. Nostalgia flashed in his marigold orbs. "Jamil! Do you remember those stories from when we were little?" His head wiped around, eyeing his childhood friend. The black-haired youth-only nodded absentmindedly as he chewed on his sandwich. "Jamil use to read me one of the Arabian night's stories before I went to bed each night!" Jamil just hummed in agreement, he seemed too wrapped up in intentionally ignoring the conversation. 

Kalim flopped on his back, arms pulled back acting as a pillow. His eyes never once left your frame, his piercing gaze was practically glued to your body. "SO~~ Which one is your favorite?" his tone was light and cheerful, he just seemed so oddly happy. Brushing it off you guessed it might have just been the sentimentality talking. Mentioning those old stories must have stirred some childhood reminiscence. Your eyelids fluttered downwards, closing in thought as your mind raced through the countless stories you had consumed throughout the day. But there was one that seemed to shine rather brightly in your head.

"I guess the lovers of Bassorah, there's just a sort of hopeful ring to the whole story...It's hard to explain but it kinda proves that true love isn't just an open pathway. There are numerous difficulties that lovers must face before they can hold each other in their arms." When you finally opened your eyes again, you noticed that Kalim's grin had been replaced with a quizzical look.  His eyes scrunched, traversing between you and Jamil. Signing the older boy, he finally shuffled over to the two of you. He crossed his leg before explaining the story to Kalim. Realization dawned on the white-haired boy, you listened in wondering if Jamil had actually memorized the old folk tale. But as the story progressed there seemed something off about Jamil's retelling, something gritter, grimmer even...It was wrong, so wrong that it sent a flood of shivers up your spin. But a quick glance at Kalim made it obvious that the prince was not only undisturbed by the fables 

The sun had started to die quite some time ago. The sky was painted in bright melting colors that seemed to resemble sugary sweets. Jamil and (y/n) had started packing up the little picnic while Kalim sat and watched. His red eyes followed (y/n) as she nimbly picked up the plates and leftover food. She was so breathtaking, so enchanting, something about the way she moved and talked had poor little Kalim bewitched. He couldn't help the fantasies that kept sprouting in his mind. The longing to hug you close to his chest, to feel your warmth, breath in your scent.  He could imagine them so vividly that they were practically felt real. 

With a heavy sigh Kalim waved good-bye as the young girl walked away to her dorm room, book pressed close to her heart. 

Kalim watched with a  downhearted look as the last rays of sunlight screamed for help before being engulfed by the darkness of the night. Every couple of moments the young prince would tear his gaze from the starry tapestry to throw a childish lovesick complain to his childhood friend -who's body was beginning to tremble with visible annoyance- each nag circulated around the same premiss. "Why doesn't (y/n) love me?" over and over and over again. Really Kalim didn't mean to be a bother he was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he could bother to remember what words had slipped from his lips moments ago. It was well into the late-night when Kalim turned once more to Jamil his shoulders slumped, poster slagging. His mouth opened, but before any words could escape into the large room. Jamil stood up, feet stomping on the rug under him. Angrily Jamil marched over to Kalim his arms swinging before grabbing ahold of Kalim's shoulders. His long nails dug into the royal's shoulders. "Listen Kalim, I'm getting sick of this puppy crush of yours! Can you please just forget--" Jamil stopped mid-sentence, his grey eyes widening as a plan hatched in his mind, slithering around the most devious parts of his brain. A smirk formed on his chapped lips, "Kalim!" His excited tone reverberated off the walls. "Grab the flying carpet! We're going to get you a date!" Jamil ran for the door, picking up the dorm leader staff on his way. Kalim watched his friend race out the room, he remained stunned for a second before he ran after Jamil yelling; "But where do we keep the flying carpets?? Jamil! Help!" 

The cool night air washed over you, as you stood by the window, brush in hand, combing your messy locks. Your eyes carelessly jumped from star to star, soaking in their twinkling brightness. Each star seemed to sparkle a little more vividly when your gaze landed on it. It was almost like they were silently wishing you goodnight....or warning you about the secrets the night was hiding. 

You were shaken from your stargazing by the sound of a slamming door. You didn't think much of it, brushing it off as just being one your friends sneaking in for a late-night chat. Casually you turned around, only to be stricken by a wave of fear, slither across your lavish dorm room, was something out of a nightmare. A larger then life serpent was bolting for you, it's scales glittered in the chandelier light, flashing between shades of gold and ruby sometimes even turning as pitch black as a starless midnight. Its tongue flickered out sniffing the air then crashing back between its lips. For a fraction of a second, your eyes met, the monstrous snakes grey orbs seemed to be mocking you. You were sure that if he was able the monster would have been laughing at your distress. 

With each step you took in retaliation, the snake slithers forward, it's towering body was constantly looming over your petit frame. You were pushed up against the open window, no place left to hide. The snake was far to close, it's tongue grazed your cheek each time it darted outwards. You were finished, hopelessness was to the only feeling that floated through your body. You closed your eyes, ready to accept your fate. That was until a gust of cold wind blew across your face, carrying with it the sound of your name. At first, you kept your eyes closed, blaming it on your subconscious. But the noise of your name kept coming back to your ears. Finally, in a desperate attempt, you dared to turn away from the snake and spare a glance outside. Your eyes widen, hope bubbled in your gut. Standing outside your window floating on one of the infamous flying carpets was nonother than the dorm leader of Scarabia. 

"(y/n)!" his voice was like a god sent, pure melody to your ears. "Do you trust me?" His hand was extended palm awaiting your own hand. You didn't think for a moment, instantly you reached out and grabbed his arm, permitting yourself to be dragged out the glass-less window. Your knees hit the concrete of the outer wall as you tumbled onto the flying carpet. The carpet didn't miss a beat, the second your flesh hit the rug, it was off soaring into the dark night. 

The icy wind blew across your face, your body was pressed suffocatingly close to Kalim's as he navigated the flying tool across the clouds. Your heart was still pounding in fear, each beat reverberated through your bones adding an additional layer of panic. The hight and constant maneuvering of the carpet did little to ease your stress. Nether you nor Kalim had spoken since the journey began. You bite your lip waiting for him to make the first move. To say something, anything! However, what ended up breaking the silence was rather unexpected joyous laughter coming from your companion. "That was a pretty convincing show that Jamil put on wasn't it (y/n)?" there was no malice in his tone if anything it came off more as if this was all a game. A young child laughing after a good game of hiding and seek.

You turned to Kalim with a shock written all over your face. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! I JUST GOT ATTACKED..." Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs where heaving trying to pull in more oxygen to no avail. It only now began to dawn on you just how high up the two of you had gotten. Kalim must have also been facing the same problem as the leaned his weight to the front of the carpet, causing it to accelerate downwards. You let out a shrike of terror, arms wrapping around the white-haired youth. "that’s overexaggerated, it’s really isn’t that big of a deal”

Your eyes widened how could he not think that this was a big deal. It didn't matter wither that snake was really Jamil or not, the shock was real, the fear was real. "Is this some sort of cruel joke!" you yelled. Kalim shot you a confused look, one of his hands reached up to entwine his fingers in your flowing locks. “But I thought you said this kinda thing was hot!“ Kalim genuinely sounded both hurt and confused. His eyes were pooled with deep sadness. You gulped "What are you--" your memory flashed back to the stories the two of you had discussed earlier that morning. In each story, the protagonist had to stage some sort of clever catastrophe to earn their lover's affection. In multiple stories, the hero always lore their lover into some sort of danger then swoop in and save them. That was had happened, Kalim had tried to show you that he loved you by both putting your life in danger and saving it. "Kamil look I--" He pushed a finger to your lips, shushing you wordlessly " Stop pretending you don't want this, you and I, we're meant to be so just for tonight let's pretend we’re the only people in the world". For the second time, that night uneasiness overflooded your sense, but in an impulsive fit of bravery and longing, you waved it off. Nodding as you wrapped your arms tighter around Kalim's waist, enjoying the scenery of the sand dons and the sweet flowery scent that came from Kalim. 

You weren't sure when it had happened but at some point, the melody of the breeze along with the peaceful silence had lulled you into a tranquil slumber. You were stirred from your sleep by the rays of the rising sun. Slowly you pushed yourself up, there was something off about the bed you where laying on, somehow it felt much plusher than your own bed. As you attempted to turn you felt a sharp pain pulling you back onto the mattress. You moved around tugging your arms forward only to see the metal cuffs, orienting your wrists... something had happened during that carpet ride, what it was exactly you weren't sure. But you knew that you would soon get your explanation once Kalim returned. 

In one of the rooms in  Scarabia, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard. Blood trickled down Kalim's arm. dripping onto the carpets and oozing into the seems. Joyfully Kalim spun around, droplets of the crimson liquid flying off in all directions. Jamil sighed as he began dragging the body. "stop making a mess Kalim. Don't you think it was wrong to kill the boy? He was just a friend of (y/n)'s, nothing more." The white-haired royal stopped to look at his friend, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Nothing we do will ever be wrong if it's for (y/n)! She can't have anyone else but us in her life! They'll just be distractions!" Jamil rolled his eyes as he continued pulling the lifeless corps out into the balcony to be turned to dust. All the while Kalim skipped behind him joyfully humming some old tune and dreaming about his awaiting darling.