#...or I made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yellowocaballero · 2 months

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Ashen Wolf Byleth & Teen Dad Yuri

The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

I need to update Weekenders but there's about twenty reasons why I haven't done it yet. But while I've been posting it I've been writing a shitton of other stuff, only some of which is decent, so I thought I'd post the beginnings of this story while I finish up the New Game+ Claude POV fic. This is most of what exists so far, and I probably won't finish it. Writing Dimitri's POV actively made me feel more insane as a person.

TW for references and flashbacks to Yuri's canon past. Around 15k of an absolutely demented Dimitri, a deeply smarmy Claude, a disturbingly feral Byleth, and a Yuri who is just doing his best under the cut.

Dimitri was rapidly growing obsessed with the beautiful ghost.

He tried to confess to his colleagues in the Blue Lions, but they just gave him sympathetic eyes and confiscated his training sword. A typical lack of faith in their leader, but Dimitri had to accept that it was well deserved. He was perfectly aware that Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid didn’t believe in ghosts, much less beautiful ones. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette believed whole-heartedly in ghosts, but they thought he was being weird about it. So Dimitri was silenced, ostensibly for his own good. It was for his own good - future kings couldn’t exactly run around talking about beautiful ghosts - but it still felt like an odd form of betrayal.

And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. If only he had proof, Sylvain would make fun of him just a little bit less. All he had to do was be patient and wait for his time to come. Sylvain would see. They’d all see.

The time came sooner than expected, with unexpected company. Dimitri and Claude were walking back from an important (Edelgard’s words) and mind-numbingly boring (Claude’s words) administrative meeting when he saw her again. They were walking a side path along the very edge of the monastery, using it as a shortcut between the main building and their own dormitory, and in the thick night their solitude was complete. Complete save for a shadow in the distance, darting from the forest and across the path like a minnow in a stream.

Dimitri dropped his books in shock. Claude stopped short, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What’s -”

“It’s her!” Dimitri cried. “That’s her! Hey - miss, please wait!”

The books and company were no longer important. Dimitri set off after her at a run, only barely aware that Claude was hot on his tail. As always, the ghost disappeared almost instantly - she crossed the path and dove into the tall shrubbery against the stone walls of the monastery, where she disappeared. Dimitri had seen her appear from the ground and disappear into walls before, only barely visible from the corner of his eyes, and every time she slipped like water from his fingers.

This time was no different. Dimitri skidded to a halt at her disappearing point, pushing aside thick branches in a desperate search for terrestrial beauty. There was nobody and nothing - the girl had walked straight into the monastery walls. Foiled again.

“Dammit!” Dimitri yelled. Claude’s eyebrows jumped up. “I was so close that time!”

“You know curse words? I owe Hilda a hundred gold.” Claude poked his head over Dimitri’s shoulder, watching his desperate search without helping whatsoever. “What was all of that about? Did you see someone?”

“Didn’t you?” But Dimitri already knew the answer, even as he said it - nobody ever saw her but him. “I’ve been seeing this girl since I arrived at Garreg Mach. She appears from thin air and disappears into nothing. I suspect she may be a ghost. I’ve searched high and low for her, but I haven’t been able to find her. And she slips through my fingers again!”

Claude hummed, scratching his chin. “Now that you mention it, maybe I did see a figure…”

Dimitri rocketed upwards, snapping several branches. He whirled on Claude, who took a large step back. “You did? Was she short, wearing silver clothing, unmistakably beautiful?”

Claude held up both hands in a plea for innocence. “...it looked kind of humanoid?” Figures. Dimitri turned back around, scanning the area again. If he could just follow her trail - maybe there would be a scent of death? Of ozone? Of the unknown? “Hey, if it matters that much to you then I’ll help you look. Can’t afford to rule anything out - even ghosts.”

“You’re a true friend, Your Grace,” Dimitri said seriously. Claude nodded back, equally seriously. “And even if she isn’t a ghost, an unknown person at Garreg Mach is highly suspect. She doesn’t seem to wear a habit, armor, or a uniform. It’s our responsibility as leaders to investigate mysteries like this.”

“Uh huh.” Claude slipped into the thicket with him, easily fitting into the barren spots where Dimitri already accidentally snapped off all the branches. Dimitri was already seriously knocking on the castle walls, searching for secret passages or weaknesses. “But not to tell a staff member?”

“I decided a while ago that I could handle this on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. Wasn’t like anybody was willing to help him, anyway. “Some endeavors are personal.”

“I know that feeling.” Claude hummed, and Dimitri heard the distinct screech of metal scraping on metal. “So are you this invested because of the ghost thing or the beautiful thing?”

“With the potential non-invited guest at Garreg Mach thing, Your Grace.”

A terrible grinding sound split the night, and Dimitri winced. He was a bit sensitive to unexpected loud noises. Felix knew, and liked to sneak up on him and yell in his ear. “I’m a future duke and you’re a future king, Your Highness, I think you’re meant to speak less formally to me.”

“We’re both future leaders of our respective countries,” Dimitri said seriously. “Isn’t that more important than a discrepancy in titles? I’d like to show respect to you as it befits your station, not your title.”

More awful screeching filled the air, accompanied by a final grinding scream and a muffled thump. “Is that why you’re the only person who calls Petra ‘Your Highness’? I think that’s why you’re the only guy in this school she approves of.”

“Really?” Dimitri asked, pleased. Politeness always paid off! “I simply think it’s disrespectful to treat her as anything less than royalty simply because she is here as a political hostage - an outdated practice that I believe - I’m sorry, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, just opening a secret passage.”

“I see. I just think it’s an outdated practice that ought to be illegalized, and just between you and me I actually highly disapprove of - I’m sorry, a what?”

Dimitri turned around from his fruitless inspection of the wall for the first time and saw Claude squatting nearby. He had cut away the brambles surrounding the area with the tip of an arrow he pulled from somewhere, and a large manhole was resting on the grass next to him. He was currently sticking his head down a dark hole of indeterminable depth. Dimitri hadn’t even noticed a manhole!

Well. If the beautiful woman was a beautiful ghost, then she had undoubtedly gone through the wall. But if the beautiful woman was an everyday extremely attractive girl, then the manhole might be how she had escaped so quickly.

Finally, a lead! A path towards her! Dimitri did not know why he was a little disappointed. Was he secretly hoping she’d be a ghost? That would be a little impractical. Maybe he was just upset Claude had found it?

Claude popped his head back up, upside-down braid swinging back against his cheek. “Now isn’t this interesting?” For the first time, Claude seemed invested. “The sewer system doesn’t run underneath this path. So what’s an access point to the sewers doing right here?”

“...why do you know the sewer layout of Garreg Mach?”

“I’m a fan of a good mystery,” Claude said, completely ignoring the question. Perhaps. “How do you feel about a little exploration on this fine moonlit night?”

Oh no. Dimtiri abruptly felt a little anxious. “Your Grace, I don’t believe students are allowed in the Garreg Mach sewer systems.”

“What if it’s not the Garreg Mach sewer system?”

“That may be less allowed.” A little awkwardly, Dimitri added, “And I really wouldn’t want to accidentally break a rule and get in trouble.”

Claude gave him a look of blatant disgust. Dimitri hung his head in shame.

Finally, Claude took pity on him. He sighed and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder - once in camaraderie, twice in sympathy. “Your Highness. Are you really going to let some little rules get in the way of you and your soulmate?”

Dimitri perked up. Putting it like that…and he really didn’t want to look uncool in front of Claude, who was probably the coolest person at the school… “I suppose Lady Rhea would understand if it’s for the sake of love…”

“Attaboy.” Claude shoved roughly at Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him into the hole. “Now let’s dive into the sewers. Lords first!”

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t obligated to fall down a hole face first. There was a wooden ladder descending downwards, warped and fragile from the damp air, and although Dimitri descended into the dark with no hesitation he had to force himself to move slowly and grip the fragile rungs with utmost care.

The darkness was absolute, and Dimitri and Claude navigated by feel. They climbed for what felt like ages, and Dimitri’s absolute concentration made the period of time span even longer. Claude prattled on above his head with some random thoughts and observations, but Dimitri was focusing too hard on the ladder to register what he was saying.

A boot knocked him on the head. Dimitri’s hands spasmed, crushing the rung into splinters, and his grip was completely lost. Dimitri bent backwards a terrifying foot before he righted himself and regained his balance, grabbing the side of the ladder and swinging himself heavily downwards. Of course, that broke the side of the ladder, and suddenly Claude was yelling a great deal of expletives as one side of his ladder began to slide downwards.

“Let’s readjust our approach,” Dimitri said mildly. He changed his grip to grab the two sides of the ladder, his metal gauntlets digging into the wood. “Get ready to slide, Your Grace.”

“Are you nuts -”

Dimitri kicked off, taking his feet off the rungs and loosening his grip on the sides. His slide downwards was alarmingly fast, and he could feel the musty air rise up to meet him. Claude was still yelling, his voice echoing up the empty tunnel, and a familiar wave of adrenaline rose to wash Dimitri’s mind clean.

He couldn’t help but grin. The wind tousling his hair, the swooping sensation in his stomach, the possibility of death and the high probability of injury - a recipe for excitement. Dimitri’s favorite sort of excitement - the sort that cleared out all of the nasty little thoughts that clouded his mind day to day, that made him forget all of his problems and memories and wounds and that focused him onto the present moment. It was a thrill that conquered all ills, and it was more or less the only time that Dimitri was ever happy.

His professor didn’t like that about him. Before Garreg Mach, Felix was the only person who was aware of Dimitri’s little addiction, but the Blue Lions professor had sniffed Dimitri out fast and never stopped giving him a hard time about it. Dimitri honestly didn’t think it was the professor’s business, but he knew they did not agree regarding that fact. It didn’t matter - Dimitri wasn’t about to change.

A light sprung from the darkness, and Dimitri immediately kicked his heels against the ladder and slowed his descent. The light brightened as Dimitri fell, and he was able to make out a hard-packed dirt floor just in time to bend his knees and soften his landing. The impact still rattled his legs down to the bone, but he hadn’t sprained anything.

Dimitri immediately jumped backwards, watching Claude come to the same conclusion and slow his descent. Unlike Dimitri, he didn’t stick the landing - he fell in an ungainly heap on the floor, gasping for breath and groaning. His hair was wildly mussed, and he looked a little green. His cape had ripped off his shoulders, and was currently hanging like a defeated flag several feet above their heads.

“What is wrong with you.”

Goddess, they’d be here all day. “You’re the one who kicked my head.” Dimitri wiped the splinters off his gauntleted hand, extending it down to Claude. Claude squinted at him in increasingly ill-hidden hatred. “Come on, have a little adventurous spirit. I thought you were here to explore the unknown?”

Claude pushed himself upwards, and Dimitri silently curled his hand and returned it to his side. Figured that Claude wouldn’t want to touch him. An expected reaction, honestly. “Sure I am. Now our way out of here is unknown too. Guess we have no choice but to press onwards.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Dimitri said - perhaps betraying the fact that he had no intention of going backwards. “I believe we’re already out of the woods. Look yonder - see the exit?”

There was, indeed, an exit. They had landed in a narrow rectangular room, and there was clearly a door at the far corner where the right wall intersected the back wall. Light shone from within, and Dimitri eagerly led them forwards towards the light.

He could even hear sounds, signs of life - the distant coursing of a river, and a familiar quiet symphony of sounds. They were the sounds of life - a soundscape of an ordinary day at the marketplace at the base of Garreg Mach, marked by shuffling feet and quiet voices.

“Is that people?” Dimitri whispered, excited. “What are people doing this far underground?”

“Is that people?” Claude whispered, incredulous. “Does Rhea know about this?”

“Perhaps they’re ghosts!”

But Claude just shook his head, and for the first time he seemed a little grim. He sped up, walking briskly until he overtook Dimitri. Dimitri fell back, letting him take the lead, and listened curiously as Claude muttered under his breath. Dimitri couldn’t make out the words at all - too quiet, perhaps.

“Ghosts!” Claude hissed. “Perhaps they’re ghosts, that’s fun, not dangerous -”

“Maybe they’re an army of ghosts,” Dimitri volunteered. Claude hissed something that sounded suspiciously similar to the Almyran term for the Fodlan ethnic group. He probably mishead. “Honestly, Claude, what happened to your thirst for adventure -”

“I thought I would get to see Dimitri Blaiddyd stomp through some sewers for an hour! I didn’t expect to stumble into real life people!” Claude stopped at the entryway, peering forward into the cavernous expanse beyond them. Dimitri stopped too. Quite involuntarily. “Holy - that’s a settlement! What is a settlement doing underneath - that’s a village! There’s no way Rhea doesn’t know about that. What else is that woman hiding?”

Dimitri coughed, frozen perfectly still. Cold steel kissed his neck. “Ah. Er. Some help?”

Claude ignored him, steadily working himself up. Dimitri had never seen Claude actually unbalanced before. It was unsettling. “Just when I thought I had five percent of that woman figured out, she pulls the rug on me again. I’ll never get anything good out of her this way. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have to fall back on the B&E plan -”

“Some help, Claude!”

Instantly, Claude said, “What B&E plan?”

“Don’t move,” the beautiful ghost said.

Claude turned around.

Dimitri had to assume it was the beautiful ghost. The sword was raised against his neck upwards, showing that the wielder had to significantly lift her arm to hold it. The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, light and delicate and young. It wasn’t ethereal - rather, it was solid, as solid as the steel against his skin - but there was still something otherworldly about it.

Claude stared at Dimitri, wide-eyed. His eyes traveled downwards - yes, the ghost had to be short - and he froze just as solid as Dimitri for a flat second before he relaxed. Over Claude’s shoulder, Dimitri could see the settlement stretching out before him - at the lean-tos and tents and shacks, at the people in rags milling about who were already beginning to stop and stare. The underground people were dirty, and the underground village was filthier. Dimitri immediately saw some elderly hugging the walls, and more foreigners.

Undoubtedly, Claude had seen what Dimitri saw. Claude was currently ahead of him - he was staring at the beautiful ghost with mouth agape, eyes wide. A hot flash of jealousy burst in Dimitri’s chest. Claude got to see the ghost’s face before he did! How incredibly unfair!

“Hello, there. Sorry for…uh, dropping in.” Claude slowly raised his hands, showing himself unarmed. Dimitri wondered where he had stashed his extra arrows. “We…come in peace?”

The sword at his neck flashed. It was well-kept, but clearly old and cheap. “Who are you with.”

“We’re not with anybody!” Claude said hurriedly. Bizarrely, he had immediately adopted an accent - a thick, regional Almyran accent, coarse and rough. “Please, ma’am, stay your sword. Don’t you have any idea who you’re holding hostage? He’s a very important person. If he goes missing your entire house will be endangered. It’s safest for everybody if you just let him go.”

The blade stilled. “...is he rich?”

“Oh, very! I know people who would pay thousands for his safe return!”

“What did I expect,” Dimitri muttered.

“And who are you?” the beautiful ghost asked. “Are you rich too?”

“I am but this man’s humble aide!” Claude said instantly. He bowed flamboyantly, with a distinctive Almyran flair. “A loyal and devoted servant am I, to His Royal Highness! My ten brothers and sisters wouldn’t have two coppers to scavenge together to pay a ransom, honest! Tell you what, tell you what - let me help!” Claude straightened, pulling out his most roguish and charismatic smile. “Let’s be friends, Fodlan beauty. Give me your demands, and I’ll deliver them straight upwards all the way to the top. I’ll be back with thousands! You can give the pale boy back later. If you want. How about it?”

The sword wavered. The ghost spoke again, her voice laced with doubt. “You’re both wearing the Academy uniform. Brother did say that the prince was attending school this year.”

“Beautiful and good intel sources! Surely you’ve heard of me, the Almyran vassal that follows around the prince and attends school with him?”

Dubiously, the ghost said, “Brother says that the vassal’s Duscuran…”

“I am disappointed that your brother cannot tell the difference between the Duscur and Almyran people!”

“It’s not like that…”

Claude promptly said something in - Almyran? When did Claude learn Almyran? The ghost said something back in Almyran, undoubtedly dubious. Claude pointed at Dimitri’s shoulder, showcasing Dimitri’s fine cape, and then at his own - and the distinct lack of yellow cape, which was probably still pinned to the ladder. The beautiful ghost murmured in assent - obviously Claude was a poor vassal, not a rich king, see his complete lack of cape.

The beautiful ghost said something, and Claude’s eyes sharpened. He grinned and bowed even lower - a vassal to a princess.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “Then His Highness and his loyal vassal would be honored to hold an audience with the lady’s esteemed brother.”

“You talk stupid.”

“You would really get along with my best friend, my lady.”

“I’m not your anything.” The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

“Night night,” the love of Dimitri’s life said, before hitting him on the back of his head with the pommel of her sword, drawing black curtains over Dimitri’s eyes.

__________

Dimitri sat in an office. A rather inauspicious turn in this kidnapping saga.

He was sitting down because his head still hurt. He wished he was standing and showing his future brother-in-law the respect he deserved, but his future brother-in-law insisted that he tend to his probable concussion and sit. Dimitri wanted to protest - the man had already personally healed him, and his head didn’t hurt any more than usual - but the man seemed stressed enough, so Dimitri sat obediently in front of his desk. In an office. In an underground slum funded by the church. Which existed. Was that what taxpayer money was going towards?

Yuri explained the entire situation to him and Claude as he healed the bump and gash on Dimitri’s skull. For a given value of ‘entire’ - so far, Dimitri mostly just understood that the church organized a homeless encampment underground that accepted any members unconditionally and functioned roughly like its own little nation. The main encampment of Abyss was Garreg Mach itself - a basement floor of the monastery that had sunken into the ground after some unfortunate geographical events around seven hundred years ago. Dimitri wanted to ask if it was a possible problem that Garreg Mach was located in a sinkhole, but Yuri didn’t leave much time for questions.

The name of the slum was Abyss, and its inhabitants had little contact with the outside world. There were children in Abyss who had never stood in the sun, and infirm who hadn’t felt the sun’s warmth since they were well. Apparently the few inhabitants who regularly left Abyss used one of a series of secret passages in Garreg Mach, with entrances and exits that spanned the width of the monastery. These secret passages were very well-hidden, and an Abyssan well-versed in their usage could disappear and reappear throughout the monastery like…a ghost.

They didn’t have visitors very often. Not many people knew about Abyss, and strangely enough the people in the loop didn’t care to visit a damp, filthy underground slum. They had even fewer Academy students fall down manholes and stumble into this inverted land of wonder. Hence why the sight of Dimitri and Claude caused certain Abyssans to panic. With their swords.

These Abyssans were named Byleth, which was a lovely name. Potentially alliterative, too.

“Your Highness.” Yuri was gritting his teeth together. “I am…so sorry.”

“No harm done,” Dimitri said instantly. He wanted to express to Yuri that it was actually a great honor to be harmed by his sister, but he didn’t know how to say that in a normal way. “We were the intruders, after all. Byleth was just defending her home.” He turned to Byleth, who was standing stiffly behind her brother in a perfect match to Claude’s stiff stance behind Dimitri. Dimitri had barely taken his eyes off her, and yet she had failed to make a single facial expression. Fascinating. “Your swordplay was incredible, by the way. The way you held that sword to my throat was impeccable. I assume you’ve been professionally trained.”

“Here and there.” Byleth looked pleased, making Dimitri feel like a star. She pointed awkwardly at the silver sword at Dimitri’s hip. It was the same old sword Dimitri always had - some antique of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation. “I like your sword.”

Instantly, Dimitri said, “Thank you! Do you want it?”’

Byleth hummed. Yuri’s eyes widened a fraction, and Claude stifled a groan. “My sword is pretty old…”

“Here, take it.” Dimtiri immediately undid his belt and handed the sword over to her, belt and sheath and all. She held it up and admired it, testing its weight. Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Consider it my apology for following you uninvited into your home.”

Byleth nodded, twirling the sword easily in her hands. It was tremendously attractive. “Apology accepted. We’re even.” Her mouth twitched infinitesimally into something that may be loosely deemed a smile. Yuri’s eyes widened severely. “Thank you.”

Dimitri looked away, coughing. His face felt like it was going to melt off. “You’re welcome. It - ah, it suits you.”

“Do you think so?” Byleth asked, pleased. Perhaps. It was very hard to tell. Her voice was in a very strict monotone, but their deep spiritual connection meant that Dimitri could vibe these things out. “It does match my outfit.”

Dimitri would never be able to think of silver again without thinking of her. “I’m hono -”

“Your Highness.” Yuri’s voice hadn’t changed; nor had his words. His expression didn’t seem any different and his body language hadn’t shifted. But something about him was far now far less welcoming - something was different, all the same. “We’re very grateful for your gift, and for the forgiveness you’ve extended towards us regarding what happened. But it would be highly irresponsible of me to keep you here any longer. Abyss isn’t safe for somebody like you and your…vassal.”

“Khalid, sir.” Claude winked loudly at Dimitri, making absolutely certain that Dimitri understood that Claude was giving a fake foreign name. Yes, Dimitri picked up on that. “Really, wonderful place you have here. Very chic. Couldn’t possibly be that unsafe - if we had a good tour guide.”

Frostily, Yuri said, “I’ll have some scouts escort you back topside immediately. I’m certain Lady Rhea is looking for you.”

“It took her three days to notice that I tossed Lindhardt into a well, so I’m certain we have at least that long.” Claude leaned forward eagerly. “Who founded this place? Whose idea was it? Why is it underground?”

“Somebody who is no longer with us,” Yuri said, curt and even. “I’m the leader of Abyss now. And as the leader, it’s my responsibility to get future leaders of Fodlan back to their cozy beds.”

Claude flapped an easy hand. “Sure, let’s get the future leader of Fodlan back to bed. But this humble vassal’s awfully interested in this operation you’re running. Don’t suppose you could allow me to run around a bit? Check some things out? See your tax records?”

“I think even vassals have someplace to be, Khalid.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Byleth asked Yuri. She paused a beat. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“There’s a great deal of places this vassal should be,” Claude said cheerfully, “but I think there’s only one place where I have to be.” He easily slid into the unoccupied chair next to Dimitri, leaning forward and folding his hands on Yuri’s desk. He had to nudge apart several scrolls of parchment and pieces of paper to do it - the man’s desk was stacked with forms, work, and quills. “Let’s put our cards on the table, huh? There’s a lot the church doesn’t tell us peons, Yuri. I’m willing to bet you know a lot of it. So in exchange for you telling me what you know, I don’t tell Lady Rhea what I know about a certain somebody trying to lop off the head of the future king of Faerghus. Sound good to you?”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, one thin purple eyebrow arching. “You have a lot to learn about the art of the deal, kid. What will Rhea say when she learns that Prince Dimitri and Duke Claude were out past curfew skulking around slums?”

“Duke Claude’s happily asleep in his warm bed, and every member of his House is sufficiently paid to corroborate that story.” Claude smiled winningly. “Khalid is a humble vassal interested in touring your fine slum. Khalid might also have some other gossip that you might be interested in.”

“Like what, kid?”

Claude’s grin widened. “I might tell you tomorrow morning. After my visit.”

Yuri was silent. His eyes flickered to Dimtiri, then to Claude. He glanced at his sister. “By, wait outside?”

Byleth nodded and exited the room. Dimtiri yearned for her achingly. But Yuri just straightened, face as blank and unreadable as his sister’s, and said something to Claude in Almyran.

For the first time, Claude was struck off balance. He looked at Dimitri, eyes wide, then back at Yuri. He said something empathetically, shaking his head, but Yuri just responded curtly.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “On the honor of my father and mother, no. I’m not trying to -”

“Really?” Yuri said. “You’re a novice at this con artist thing, kid. You’re too rich to do it well. Word of advice - don’t smile like you’re hiding something, smile like you’re keeping a secret.”

Claude pulled back a little, and Dimitri saw that he was almost pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.” Yuri looked at Dimitri, expression gentle and soft and bland. Like sheep’s wool, or dandelion fluff on the breeze. “Do you want to hang around Abyss a little longer too, Your Highness?”

Images of Byleth wielding his silver sword, flicking the blade in a deadly dance, spun through Dimitri’s mind. If he left Abyss now and never saw her again he would lose what little scrap of will to live he had left. Dimitri couldn’t keep losing good things. He was running out.

“Yes!” Dimitri said - a bit too quickly, a bit too empathetically. He coughed, forcing himself to settle down. “I mean - yes. As a future ruler, I should see how the other half lives. It’s important for a ruler to understand the needs of all of his people.”

It was perfectly true. It wasn’t what he was thinking, but it was perfectly true. Dimitri had the faint notion that perhaps he and Claude were missing the point of something important, something much bigger than them - than Claude’s secrets or Dimitri’s love story - but the allure of secrets and love was fairly overpowering at the moment.

Easily, as easily as he said everything else, Yuri said, “My sister’s not on the market to entertain you. I can steer plenty of other lovely ladies or gentlemen your way, but she’s a little busy with her own work.” Yuri tilted his head, looking at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. Dimitri flushed a little. “If you insist, I’d be happy to spare some time for you. But I’m afraid my sister is just too busy.”

Claude stood up, chair skidding against the hard stone. “I just put my family’s name on this! As -” Claude said something quickly in Almyran, which completely flew over Dimitri’s head. “ - I am vouching for Prince Dimitri. I wouldn’t even say that for me, but I can sure as hell say it for him. You can trust us.”

Yuri’s face was unchanged. “I’ve heard that one before.”

And although Dimitri didn’t understand half the conversation - although he knew that there was subtext he wasn’t getting, that there were things about the world he just couldn’t see - he understood the right thing to do well enough for now. Standing in the midst of Abyss, it was clear.

Dimitri stood up, bowing low at Yuri. “I apologize for our intrusion. I see that my classmate and I have overstayed our welcome. I have no desire to add to the heavy burdens you and your village already bear. Please, if you can help escort us back to the surface, we’d be very grateful.”

When Dimtiri straightened, he saw a peculiar look on Yuri’s face. It was a little thoughtful, and a lot of another foreign emotion. “What will you do now that you know we’re here?”

“Ask Rhea how we can help,” Dimitri said immediately. Left implied: and confess to our wrongdoings, like good children. “Or you, if you’re amenable. Abyss is not located within my lands, but I am aware that many places like Abyss reside in the darkness of Faerghus. If I can do anything for you now - learn what you can teach me - then I consider it education on how to provide for my subjects in the future.”

“He’s sincere,” Claude said firmly. He stood up too, thumping his heart with a closed fist. “I haven’t been sincere since the poisoned fig incident, but I can swear too. We just want to help. So let us help - it can’t be every day you have two future leaders of Fodlan asking you what we can do for you.”

Yuri stared at them for a long few seconds, expression glazed smooth and unreadable, before he finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you want my sister as a tour guide.”

“You just said she’s busy,” Dimitri asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I assumed she wouldn’t be available to show us around.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes - damn, the man was impeccable. Dimitri had attempted one subtle fib and he was caught out immediately. But the lie served its purpose, and something subtle in Yuri’s shoulders untensed. Dimitri hadn’t realized that they were tense at all.

Yuri opened his mouth and said -

“Boss! Did we really kidnap the prince of Faerghus?”

The door thumped open with such immense force that it smacked against the far wall. A truly giant man strode inside, followed closely on his heels by a blonde woman wearing an unsettling smile and a short dark-skinned woman picking at a cuticle. On the tail end of the party was Byleth. She nodded at Dimitri, who nodded back in a daze.

“I told them you were busy,” Byleth said serenely.

“Yeah, busy with His Royal Highness!” The large man stopped in front of Dimitri and carefully scrutinized him from head to toe. Dimitri allowed himself to be scrutinized. “Damn! What are they feeding you Academy kids these days? You’re solid muscle. Not as much as me, but not bad either!”

Dimitri fought the urge to sweat. The women flanked the big guy, blinking at him curiously. “I train frequently.”

“Really? Guess Bye-Bye’s found another freak.” The dark-skinned woman yawned, nodding at Byleth as she stood at her brother’s side. “You should hang out. Hit each other with swords or whatever.”

“Greetings to His Royal Highness and friend!” the blonde woman yelled, almost at the top of her voice. She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin in the air. “Welcome to the home of Constance von Nuvelle! Our decor may be lacking, but our hospitality is second to none!”

“Really?” the other woman drawled. “I think the rats add some pizazz.”

“Silly Hapi! The rats are disgusting!”

“Bye-Bye eats garbage too, but we don’t give her a hard time about it.”

“Hospitality, huh?” Yuri smiled, and for the first time it seemed a little real. “Balthus, obviously you don’t have anything more important going on. Can you host our two noble young visitors? Who we didn’t kidnap?”

“We were a little kidnapped,” Claude said.

Balthus grinned, propping a hand on a hip. “I dunno, are you paying me?”

Quickly, Dimitri added, “We’ll compensate you for your efforts, of course.”

“Wait,” the dark-skinned woman asked the room, “are we holding you hostage? Because it sounds like we’re holding you hostage.”

“Sold, kid!” Balthus thumped a friendly hand on Dimtiri’s back. He didn’t stumble, which seemed to shock Balthus before he withdrew his hand and quickly covered up the motion. “You look like a good hand with a weapon. Not you, Almyran guy, you look like a wimp.” Claude narrowed his eyes, but Balthus just looked backwards at Byleth. “You should spar with our new friend, Byleth. I’ll finally get to see you knock a different musclehead on the ground!”

Constance squealed, clapping her hands. “Byleth and the new children can play together! Oh, how heartwarming! Socialization is a rare opportunity for Bylie indeed!” She looked at Yuri and stage whispered, “We cannot afford to lose this chance, Yuri!”

“Byleth doesn’t know a lot of kids her own age,” the dark-skinned woman told Dimitri and Claude. “She’s…a little awkward.”

Byleth blinked at them.

“Wow,” Claude muttered, “you don’t say.”

“I forgive you for holding a sword to my neck,” Dimitri said earnestly. “You were doing the right thing.”

“Seriously, are we holding you hostage or not?”

Yuri’s eye twitched. But his posture had fully loosened, and the presence of the strangers seemed to make him breathe a little easier. “We aren’t. And Byleth isn't a puppy we need to socialize, Hapi. You know how noble boys are.”

“Noble boy and his loyal vassal,” Claude added quickly, sticking stubbornly to the bit. Dimitri had no idea why, but Claude rarely vocalized his reasons for doing anything. “What do you think, Byleth? Want to hang out with us, or want to stay with your brother?”

Byleth stared at both of them unblinkingly. Finally, after a long few seconds of thought, Byleth said, “I want to train with Dimitri.”

Hapi shot a canny look at Yuri. “Balthus’ll supervise. Connie and I too, if you want.”

For a long second Dimitri thought Yuri was going to say no anyway. Dimitri would have accepted it. It would have robbed Dimitri of the only good thing left in his life, but he would have accepted it. Good things came and left all of the time, and part of life was learning how to deal with that. Dimitri liked to fancy himself an expert in it. He could lose one more thing - one flash of hope.

But Yuri only sighed. “Alright. Supervised. Now get out of my office, all of you, I’m far too busy to juggle nobility on top of everything else.” Claude perked up. “All of you. You want to talk about Rhea - we’ll do it after dinner.”

“Understood!” Claude bowed at Yuri again, and Dimitri hastily copied him. “You won’t regret opening your doors to us, sir!”

“Uh-huh.” Left unsaid - he definitely already was. “Out of my office, then. I’ve been away for too long and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Byleth tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You should leave less often. Your work piles up. It stresses you out.”

Yuri gave her a big smile, as if he was keeping a secret. “But if I don’t leave, I’ll never experience the joy of seeing you again.”

“You’re corny, Yuri.”

“Love turns even the best of us into cornballs.” Yuri and Byleth shared a look, empty and opaque, but in that blankness Dimitri saw something far deeper than he had ever experienced. “Just look at Constance. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she gets sillier.”

“Excuse me, my sweet Yuri -”

“You’re excused, my darling Constance.”

“Must we fight,” Hapi panned, monotone and disinterested. “We’re a family. Look. You’ll make the baby cry.”

Byleth blinked at Hapi. “But I can’t cry.”

“Look. You’ll give the baby psychological issues.”

Balthus laughed again, cracking his knuckles with a pop that echoed throughout the cramped office. “This’ll be fun! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good adventure, eh Yuri?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, “that’s altogether what I’m afraid of.”

Truthfully, at that point Dimitri was no longer listening. He was just looking at Byleth, the girl who could not cry. And Byleth looked back at him, the boy whose heart was always crying. They saw each other, the heart-burdened and the heartless, and something in one reached out to balance the other.

And although the weight of the world above them crushed Dimitri’s shoulders, although they stood within damp and filthy slums tucked into the bowels of the planet, for those precious few seconds Dimitri and Byleth existed in the world with no obligation to anybody but each other.

_____________

ii.

Yuri was sitting in this bathroom fruitlessly scrubbing blood out of his one good outfit when he received word that Lady Rhea was requesting an audience. Because it was Rhea, he also received word that she was already waiting for him in the destroyed classroom.

Damn it! He had just returned! And he didn’t have anything to wear!

In the end, he was forced to keep Lady Rhea waiting another fifteen minutes because he had to dig out an older, rattier outfit and re-do his makeup. Approach: ‘I’m in my twenties, my stare is cold and piercing, and damn it I belong in this conference room’. Then he had to waste another five minutes because his hair was a wreck and his hands still smelled like blood. By the time he finally speed-walked down the halls and skidded to a stop in front of the classroom doors Yuri was twenty minutes late and already fighting the urge to freak.

As always, he halted at the doors. He took a deep breath in, then out. His outfit was dingy, which made him feel like crap, but the power makeup helped pick up the slack. He inhaled, exhaled, shook out his limbs, and entered the classroom.

Rhea was standing in front of a blackboard, her back turned to the door. She was dressed in an old brown cloak, but with the hood down and her beautiful green hair left to flow over her shoulders the figure was unmistakable as Rhea. She was writing in beautiful and flowing script on the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk, and speaking in a low voice to the child standing next to her. The child was staring up at her, eyes wide, chewing on a knuckle. Th child’s dark blue hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she was wearing only a tattered black dress and swimming in a brown jacket sized for a large adult man.

“ - your name. See, this is the B…like ‘bye’. Can you say ‘bye’?” The child blinked owlishly up at Rhea. “That’s alright. You’ll get it. You’re doing a great job already.”

Yuri coughed, and Rhea quickly turned around. With a strange start Yuri noticed that she was dressed down even more than usual, her face plain and wearing only a simple white dress underneath the cloak. Without her own makeup, she seemed tired. She smiled wanly at Yuri, who bowed back. The child turned around too, gnawing fastidiously at her knuckle.

“Yuri. I’m sorry to call upon you again so quickly after your return. Did all go well?”

“The job was done.” Deepen your voice, sound older - sound disaffected, yet sincere. Yuri wondered if he would ever live long enough that he could stop pretending to be older. “The deceased is no longer a threat to the church.”

“He was a threat to the safety of Fodlan,” Rhea said firmly. Yuri wasn’t sure about that one, but he did appreciate Rhea’s conscientious efforts to only toss absolute bastards into his pen. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you yet again, Yuri. This is important. I cannot fully disclose to you why this mission is so important, but please trust me when I say that this is a matter extremely close to my heart.”

Yuri straightened, folding his hands behind his back. He wanted to die a bit. Another important mission? As if managing Abyss, captaining his rogues, and assassinating bastards weren’t enough missions?

How long would she keep punishing him?

But Yuri just bowed. It was no effort at all to keep his expression placid. “I can accomplish any mission you give me, my lady.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trusting you with this.” Rhea put both hands on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. The girl squirmed uncomfortably. You and me both, kid. “Yuri, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Yuri. Why don’t you say hi?”

Byleth stared at Yuri, gnawing on her finger. Somebody probably ought to slap those knuckles with a ruler. She wasn’t a young child - twelve or thirteen, perhaps - but the habit and the wide eyes made her seem younger.

Yuri gave her his special ‘talking to vulnerable kids’ smile. “How do you do, my lady?”

Byleth stared at Yuri. A theme.

Rhea frowned, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder one last time before dropping her hands. “She hasn’t talked much since it happened. She…doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“Anything about what happened?”

“Anything at all. She can’t seem to recall anything about her family or her life. Darling, you ought to get your knuckle out of your mouth.” Rhea ducked her head, staring steadfastly at Byleth. The girl slowly dropped her knuckle from her mouth, looking a little spooked, before Rhea lifted her head again. “Byleth here was kidnapped. There are…some forces in Fodlan that place great value in Byleth. I don’t know how they learned about her, but they haven’t left her in peace since they found out. They’ve tried to kidnap her several times, but their latest attempt was successful. The Church knights were only able to rescue her two days ago. The knight who rescued her brought her to me immediately, and now I must bring her to you.”

“Have you spoken with Aelfric about this?”

“Of course. He’s already given his consent.” Rhea’s eyes glimmered strangely in the light. Sometimes the only emotion from that woman Yuri could truly understand was the dark depths of her sadness. “Discretion is of the utmost importance. The people after her will not give up.”

Ah. Yuri understood. “Does she have a valuable crest?”

Rhea put a hand on Byleth’s head, slowly stroking her hair. Byleth went cross-eyed looking upwards and gawking at the hand. “Byleth is a very special girl.”

Alright, so don’t tell him. “You want to hide her and her family in Abyss?”

But Rhea just shook her head, expression mournful. “Byleth is an orphan. She will be alone in Abyss. That’s why I must ask for your help, Yuri.”

In the girl’s big dark eyes Yuri saw only trouble. Abyss sheltered plenty of people in hiding, but the people after Byleth seemed to be on a different level. If hiding the girl here brought danger into Abyss, then…

Then she was still a girl who needed help. Yuri would deal with any danger as it came.

“Madame Birch will be happy to take her in.” Yuri smiled at Byleth again, taking care to crinkle his eyes and gave it positive energy. “My friend Madame Birch takes care of kids just like you, Byleth. She’ll be so excited to meet you. I know some girls her age in your house who’ve been begging me for another friend.”

But Rhea just shook her head, expression somber and firm. “The forces after Byleth are powerful. I need to place her with the strongest person in Abyss - the person most able to protect her. That’s you, Yuri. Please take her yourself.”

Ah. What?

For the first time, Yuri had to fight to keep his expression and tone still. “My lady, my workload frequently takes me out of Abyss.”

“Then I can reduce your workload.”

That perked Yuri’s ears. He was a fool for not recognizing it immediately. Rhea was desperate. Her emotional involvement in this was far greater than keeping a tool out of the hands of the enemy. Byleth had to be family somehow - maybe even a secret daughter. Having a secret daughter of Lady Rhea in Yuri’s back pocket…under his exclusive supervision…

It was a death knell if anything happened to the kid. But the leverage was too good to pass up.

Fuck, he could even negotiate right here and now. He ought to send Byleth out of the room for this, but it was important that she understood what was happening and why. As much as she seemingly could - the girl may be a little touched. It didn’t matter, obviously, but it would necessitate a change in approach.

“Well,” Yuri said slowly, “the greatest distraction from Abyss would be my jobs. I would like to stay in Abyss full-time. Give her a more consistent upbringing.”

Rhea’s eyebrow quirked upwards, but Yuri was unrepentant. She knew what she was doing by looping him in. “I’ll reduce the quantity of jobs I assign you.”

“To once every four months, perhaps.”

“Once every two.”

“That would be highly detrimental for Byleth’s childhood development.”

Evenly, Rhea said, “Going forth, I will give you a job every three months at maximum. Is that a deal?”

That was fucking fantastic. Yuri was almost lightheaded, but he pressed on. “Sounds like a deal. But raising a child is no simple matter, my lady. Child-proofing the environment, educating her, feeding her…Abyss is run on a razor-thin budget. The expenses concern me.”

Rhea sighed. “I will funnel more money into your personal budget to compensate for the expense.” Yuri waited patiently. “And into the Abyss orphanages. Anything else, Yuri?”

She could be such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes Yuri wondered if she let him do it. Definitely not. Probably not.

“I’m satisfied. You’re as generous as always, Lady Rhea.”

“This is in exchange for Byleth’s safety.” Rhea’s expression sobered, the soft silk solidifying into stone. “In exchange for what I’m giving you, I need her safety absolutely guaranteed. Nothing can happen to this girl.”

“No need to fret, my lady. Abyss is the safest place in Fodlan. Nobody even knows we exist.” Yuri bent down a little, smiling at Byleth. She had regained access to her knuckle, and was chewing it fastidiously again. “What do you say, Byleth? Want to go home with me?”

If the girl wasn’t touched, she must have understood. She must understand that the woman who would not admit to a relationship with her had just bartered for her residency with a teenage assassin, den mother, and prostitute. All things considered, the price had been insultingly low.

Byleth just stared at him. Alright, maybe she didn’t understand. That would make this harder. Yuri really should have asked for more money. Teach the girl the first and most important lesson of her new life: that you should never sell yourself for less than what you were worth. Or market value, if you couldn’t get any buyers otherwise. Maybe this was just market value.

Smile, Yuri. Smile. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Byleth.”

Byleth blinked. At least she was a quiet child. This would be easy.

______________

This was impossible.

This was shit. Absolute and complete shit. Why wasn’t she like Bernadetta? Yuri had thought she would be like Bernadetta. All Bernadetta did was nap, read, exhaustively detail the plot of her book, and cry. Byleth couldn’t even read. Apparently, when children couldn’t read, they decided to follow you around instead.

Everywhere. She followed him everywhere. When Yuri sat in the small storage room he co-opted as an office she crawled underneath his desk and swiped at his ankles. When Yuri visited the rogue’s encampments and gave the leadership its newly tightened security measures, she ran around the training field and started waving wooden training swords around. It took three rogues to wrest a sword from her. When Yuri made the rounds of Abyss and talked to its citizens, hearing every problem and offering every condolence he could, she hovered at his heels and gawked at every conversation with wide eyes.

It was like having another googly-eyed shadow. Yuri didn’t have five seconds to himself anymore. He couldn’t even visit the tavern and unwind by flirting with one of his regular hook-ups - something about having a thirteen year old (twelve? Fourteen?) hovering at your elbow really killed your game. This must be what the older girls used to refer to as cockblocking.

Byleth still hadn’t said a word. She observed, but never really listened. Still couldn’t read or write. She could catch the rats scuttling around the gutters with her bare hands. The girl may be touched. Which, again, didn’t matter - but it made it extraordinarily difficult to convey to her the importance of ‘me time’. Or ‘don’t eat that’. Or ‘put down that sword’.

It was official. Byleth was a demon. Figured that the wolf in sheep’s clothing would spawn a feral little wolf cub. Yuri should have charged more.

At least Aelfric had his back. The cardinal had little time to sneak down into Abyss, but he had begun sparing whatever time he could towards playing with Byleth. Aelfric practically begged Yuri to allow him to spend time entertaining Byleth, saving Yuri from the effort of begging Aelfric to take her. Last time Yuri checked, Aelfric spent their time together teaching Byleth her letters in the destroyed classroom. And thank the goddess for that.

“I don’t understand why she didn’t ask me,” Aelfric said, for roughly the hundredth time. They were sitting at a stone desk in the classroom, eating a coarse but filling breakfast. Byleth was cramming a hunk of bread the size of her face into her mouth. “I have my duties, but I would have gladly forfeited them for the sake of this child. You’re barely more than a child yourself, Yuri -”

Yuri couldn’t help but bark a sharp laugh. “You do realize that you and my mother are the only people who have said that in a decade.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue,” Aelfric said gently. Yuri ducked his head, focusing on pressing a napkin into Byleth’s hands and directing her to wipe her own face. There was no way this girl even knew how to do her makeup. Ridiculous. “Rhea shouldn’t have put this responsibility on you. I don’t know what she was thinking, honestly.”

That made Yuri feel a little defensive. Byleth pushed away her plate, gnawing on her final hunk of bread, and Yuri pulled over her writing tablet. Aelfric had even sprung for a few pieces of paper and pencils dyed bright colors. Yuri hurriedly placed the paper and pencils in front of her. Last he remembered, drawing was an activity favored by younger children, but Byleth couldn’t exactly partake in the age-appropriate activities of gossiping, bullying other girls, sewing, or reading. Goddess, did she even know how to sew or embroider? Yuri would have to teach her.

“I could beat anybody in Abyss in a straight fight,” Yuri said. He hoped his defensiveness didn’t show. It was a little harder to hide with Aelfric. “Even you. More importantly, I know how to be stealthy and hide myself and others. I know the Abyss system like the back of my hand. As far as Abyssans go, I understand why Lady Rhea thought I was the best choice.”

“I’m not doubting your talent, Yuri,” Aelfric soothed, “I just don’t understand why Rhea couldn’t have put Byleth in the care of an adult. You have enough responsibilities of your own without adding another one on the heap.”

Yuri bristled. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Eighteen with the burdens of a thirty year old.” Aelfric sighed, and Yuri guiltily subsided too. It wasn’t right to get defensive at Aelfric. After everything the man did to help him, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt. “I just want you to enjoy what remains of your youth. There’s a sweet nun volunteering at the orphanage -” Yuri groaned. “Yuri, why can’t you hear me out on this?”

“You’re always going on about finding a nice girl, Aelfric -”

“Because you’re re-traumatizing yourself with all of these men,” Aelfric said patiently. Yuri looked down at his hands, restraining himself from picking at a manicured cuticle. “Look at you, Yuri. You haven’t changed any of your habits. You’re still trying to appeal to men. You have to begin to heal.”

There was something heavy and old in Yuri’s chest. It was a burden that never grew lighter - a pain that never retreated. The best he could do was ignore it. But Yuri kept picking at it all the same. “It’s not my fault that men continue to approach me.”

“But it’s your responsibility to turn them down. And men wouldn’t approach you so often if you didn’t wear all that makeup.”

When Yuri spoke, his voice was quieter than he expected. He had wanted it to be louder, stronger. But something had cut it down. “It’s not for them…”

A small, bony finger poked Yuri’s side.

He looked over at Byleth, who was staring at him with her usual wide, serious eyes. She picked up her picture and presented it to Yuri, who took it and inspected the image carefully.

It was of them. The girl was a far better artist than he expected, and although the proportions were a little wonky Yuri could clearly recognize all three of them. They were sitting on crates outside of a tent - a tent that resembled the ones in Abyss, but was more reminiscent of a standard issue mercenary’s tent. Yuri was drawn with great care, sitting straight backed on the crate and staring straight at the viewer. His makeup was exaggerated and poorly applied. Aelfric sat on Yuri’s left, wrinkles clearly outlined and his blood-red habit engulfing his figure. The red lines on the habit seemed closer to bloodstains.

In comparison to the rest of the drawing, Byleth’s figure was remarkably undetailed. She only drew the faint outlines of herself, with a few expressive lines demarcating an abstract face. The greatest level of detail was in the giant brown jacket she never took off - the careful impressions of its stitches and metal buttons were a strange contrast to the ghost wearing it.

“This is excellent,” Yuri said, genuinely impressed. Sometimes it was easy to think of her as younger than thirteen-or-so, but at other times her true age was perfectly obvious. Even the ghostly Byleth felt more like an artistic choice. “I like your usage of color. It’s very powerful.” He pointed at a spot in the upper left of the page, tucked in the corner closest to Byleth and furthest than everybody else. It was just a tight swirl of green pencil - the gradient of density between the thick middle and loose outsides giving the green a strange halo-like impression. “Is this the sun?”

Byleth gave him a disgusted look. Yuri could guess: ‘the sun isn’t green, moron’. Potentially: ‘what sun? What’s a sun? I know only the Depths’.

“Then what is it?”

Byleth tugged the drawing away from him, replacing it on the table and attacking the page with a pencil. Chewing the edge of the pencil, mind working furiously, she carefully wrote out a word. She stared at the word, scratched it out, and then tried again. She put down her pencil, nodded in satisfaction, and showed it to Yuri again.

He squinted at the page. In messy, juvenile script underneath the halo - with an arrow carefully drawn towards the halo, in case he missed the reference - she had written ‘SOHTHESE’.

“Sohthese?” Yuri asked, hiding confusion. “Is that a friend of yours?” Byleth shook her head. Then she nodded. “Is…that a yes or no?”

“She’s making great progress, but her spelling needs work. Let me see.” Aelfric held out a hand, and Yuri silently passed him the page. Aelfric took one look at the page and his eyebrows jumped. “I think she means ‘Sothis’. Is that correct, Byleth?” Byleth nodded vigorously. “Where did you hear that name, Byleth? I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Wait. That name was a little familiar. “Is that the name of a saint?” Yuri asked. “I didn’t know you were giving her catechism classes.”

“I’m not. And it’s the name of the Goddess herself. It’s not very well used - typically only scriptural scholars use it with any regularity.” Aelfric frowned down at Byleth, and for the first time his expression seemed troubled. “Where could you have heard that word…?”

“Wow,” Yuri panned, “I wonder where the secret daughter of Lady Rhea heard the name of the goddess. The world may never know.”

“Please, Yuri, be serious.” Aelfric was still frowning, staring at the paper intently. Byleth gestured for him to give the paper back, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared and stared at the paper, walking mental paths far beyond the provincial little world of Yuri and Byleth.

“Aelfric, I think she wants the paper back.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Aelfric looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Could I potentially keep this, Byleth?” Byleth shook her head no. “I see. That’s alright, then.” He passed it back, and Byleth tugged it firmly out of his hands. She replaced it on the table, smoothing it over carefully.

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Yuri told Byleth. Byleth shrugged. “Are you going to become a nice nun too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with marrying a good woman and settling down,” Aelfric scolded lightly. “A home and a family is the greatest joy a young man can have. If you don’t change your behavior, you’ll never find happiness. I’m only worried about you.”

An extensive, agonizing rip split the air.

Byleth was holding up the carefully constructed drawing in clear view of both men. Making direct and unblinking eye contact, she looked at Aelfric and ripped the paper straight down between Yuri and Aelfric. Yuri and Aelfric stared at her in shocked silence as she finished cruelly ripping Aelfric from the paper, balling up his figure in one clenched fist and carefully replacing the cropped page on the table. Yuri, Byleth, and Sothis looked very happy together. Aelfric’s face was split in half.

Silence burdened the room. Aefric and Yuri gaped at Byleth in pure shock. Byleth happily took a blue pencil and began threading in streaks of blue in the green halo.

A bark of laughter escaped Yuri’s chest. His chest was light and full, and the thick iron bars that held his broken pieces together loosened and allowed him to breathe. Another burst of laughter escaped the abandoned prison, then another, and then the inmates began running the asylum. Yuri began wheezing, clutching his own stomach as he laughed uncontrollably.

Then Byleth laughed too, a light and ugly snort. It was the only sound he had ever heard from her. After weeks, the first and only sound Yuri had ever heard from Byleth was laughter. No tears, no screams of pain, no words begging for help, no moans for food - just laughter. A small smile painting the face of the girl as silent as death.

Yuri and Byleth, two prisoners unrestrained for the first time that they could remember, laughed together in defiance.

In the end, Byleth had given the picture to Yuri. She had forgotten about the whole incident after a few months - a few years later, when prompted about that picture and the Goddess, Byleth would just stare blankly in confusion. She didn’t remember those days well.

Yuri remembered them. He remembered the picture too. He had placed the picture between two pages of a book and hidden it inside a desk. It remained in that desk for a very long time, and nobody but him ever knew it existed.

_____________

And then he lost her.

He lost her. Aelfric asked if he could babysit her for the day, and because Yuri was tired and wanted some time to himself and to actually go on a freaking date for once he said yes, and when Byleth’s curfew at 2100 passed she and Aelfric still were not home. Aelfric knew to get her home by curfew. He knew that Byleth had to stay in Abyss for her own safety. He knew.

Yuri combed all of Abyss, top to bottom. Images of Aelfric and Byleth floating face down in the canal flashed throughout his mind. But a rogue stationed at one of the entrances from the monastery into Abyss said that he let Aelfric and Byleth through the entrance only a few hours ago. Apparently Yuri had asked Aelfric to take Byleth to the chapel to pray. The guard hadn’t thought twice about it. Yuri was Byleth’s guardian, but it was Aelfric. Some people were above suspicion. Some people could take children wherever they wanted.

Yuri sprinted back to his room and threw on his spare pilfered Academy uniform, stolen from the closet of a noble boy who should have known better. He pulled on the jacket as he ran, feet thumping in time with the omnipresent dripping of water and the squeak of rats, and his mind was nothing but blaring static as he unscrewed the entrance to one of the least-known entrances into the monastery.

He climbed the ladder at top speed, stopping only to grab the stone handle at the very top of the chute. He pushed full force against the handle, and after a second he heard the hard grind of stone on stone as the mechanism was activated and shifted the statue of Saint Cethlenn to the side. It was one of the finicky trapdoors that was almost impossible to access from above ground, but relatively easy from below. Yuri often had morbid daydreams about Garreg Mach falling under attack and how he would evacuate the entire population of the school out through the tunnels.

Yuri clambered out of the tunnel, hoisting himself into Seteth’s office. He looked around - empty, but the sound of voices echoed from the adjacent room - and quickly stood up so he could push the statue back into place. The voices were Rhea’s familiar cadence and another unfamiliar deep male voice. In any other circumstance, Yuri would have cared about revealing himself in front of a stranger. Today, he barely thought about it. Yuri burst out of Seteth’s office and skidded into the main chambers, ignoring Seteth’s cry of alarm and the rustling sounds of the guard’s armor. Yuri only halted when he was directly in front of Rhea, looking up into her alarmed green eyes.

Yuri bent double, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Rhea leaned over him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The other man in the room was absolutely huge, with big hair and bigger muscles. If it wasn’t for the Academy student’s uniform he would have assumed the man was in his thirties.

“Whoah,” the big guy said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Where,” Yuri gasped, hard and heavy, “is Aelfric?”

Rhea paled, eyes widening. Fear. Why fear? “He told me he was visiting you today. What’s wrong?”

“Sounds great! So it’s official that nobody knows where Father Aelfric was, then?” The big guy waved around a thick folder of paper, one hand propped on his hip. “Because I hung out in his office for an hour waiting for him to show up to our appointment. He said it was important, too! All this stuff about helping save me from expulsion. And the guy can’t even show up? We’re talking about my future here!”

“Our guard saw him taking Byleth to the surface!” Yuri cried frantically. The big guy’s brows furrowed, but Yuri couldn’t be assed about him right now. “I can’t find Aelfric or Byleth anywhere in Abyss! Lady Rhea, you have -”

But Rhea was already straightening and turning to the guards. In a tone he had never heard before, she said, “Find Cardinal Aelfric and bring him to me immediately. Shut down the monastery until he and Byleth are found. Nobody in or out.”

“I know where he might have gone.” The big guy flipped the folder open, flashing messy stacks of paper and ripped pages from books. “I got bored waiting around for him, so I went through his desk.” No wonder this guy was about to get expelled. “Never knew one guy could get so into his ancient mausoleum hobby. Would you happen to know anything about this, Lady Rhea?”

Lady Rhea was silent. Yuri was still shaking. He should have been shocked, he should have been horrified. But he wasn’t. Yuri knew. Yuri had always known, he just hadn’t wanted to see it.

“This is all my fault,” Yuri whispered. He wanted to throw up. He knew this sort of nausea - the kind invoked by visceral disgust at something you found within yourself. “I let him take her. I let him run off with her. This is all my…”

The way Aelfric looked at her. The way he was constantly volunteering to babysit or entertain her for the day or homeschool her. Yuri had given him everything he wanted - every unsupervised visit, constant knowledge of her location, everything. Because Yuri had trusted Aelfric.

Trusted. He could be doing anything to her right now, because Yuri had trusted.

Hands, unimaginably large and hairy. Sagging flesh pressing against his own. Was this how Byleth felt right now? Were big hands on her chest? Awful pain, burning like fire. What did Byleth look like when she was in that pain? Did she make the same sounds he had? The squeals and moans. Did they like hearing them from her too?

“Yuri. Yuri, you have to breathe.” Lithe, strong hands enveloped Yuri’s hands and squeezed tightly. The melodic sound of Lady Rhea’s voice barely permeated the haze. “You’re at Garreg Mach, Yuri. You’re in the home of the Goddess. You’re seventeen. I’m here. Nothing may harm you so long as I’m here.”

“This is my fault,” Yuri gasped. “This is all my fault.”

“No, Yuri. Look at me.” Yuri shuddered a final breath before looking up at Rhea. Her expression was intent, but she was still so calm and composed. Yuri couldn’t say the same at all. “This is my fault. I didn’t share my suspicions with you. I’m the one who encouraged you to trust him. This was - this was all me.”

It was?

Rhea had known? Rhea had known that Aelfric wasn’t honest? She had known that Aelfric would take Byleth and she hadn’t said anything -

“I know.” Rhea’s expression creased, and a deep pain surfaced in her features. “I just thought…he loved her mother as I once did. Surely he would feel the same as I do…but I suppose not. People still disappoint.”

Yuri tugged his hands out of Rhea’s, and she let them go. He scrubbed at his face, constantly fighting to keep hold of his breaths and sanity. He was not about to have another stupid flashback. He wasn’t. Not in Garreg Mach and not in front of the stupid Archbishop. He wasn’t going to catastrophize. Byleth was fine. He had fucked up and failed her and it’s all his fault that terrible things are definitely happening to her right now, but it was fine.

“I hate men so damned much,” Yuri muttered miserably. Some part of him was appalled that he had cursed in front of the archbishop, but every other part of him was far more concerned with far more important things. “I’m never trusting a man again. All men do is make children suffer.”

The big guy laughed awkwardly, passing the file folder to the somber Rhea before scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “On behalf of men, I guess I have to apologize. I like to think we’re not all that bad…not that I can blame a - um, you, for how you feel. Tell you what, alright?” The big guy flexed an arm, as if he was at a bar trying to impress Yuri, and clapped his hand on his admittedly impressive bicep. “I’ll save this little girl myself! I’ll chase down Father Aelfric, kick his ass, get that little girl safely home, and redeem men in the eyes of women and - ah, you, everywhere! Or my name ain’t Balthus von Adalbrecht!”

A von Adalbrecht. Great. Yuri couldn’t repress the sneer. “Your uncle yells the name of his wife’s brother in bed.”

Balthus stared at Yuri blankly. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, gross! Why’d you have to say that, man!”

“Blame him,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t need the help of some meathead nobleman. I’ll rescue her myself.”

But Balthus just shrugged - as if this really was such a simple thing. “Why can’t we both rescue her?”

“Because I don’t know you!”

“I just introduced myself. Balthazar von Adalbrecht, call me Balthus.” Balthus stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly for a handshake. “And who’re you supposed to be, kid from nowhere?”

“I’m nobody. You ought to forget you ever saw me.” Rhea was already going to give him an earful over allowing himself to be seen. But Balthus was standing so expectantly, and despite that awful little trivia Yuri just shared he was still looking him in the eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“What, you think that just because I want to help it means I want something from you?” Yes, that was exactly what Yuri thought. He wasn’t stupid. “Listen, pal. Even nobodies need some help here and there. I’m not exactly a saint, but any half-decent person would want to help you out. Since I’m the strongest, coolest guy in Garreg Mach, that means I have to help. It’s not exactly complicated.”

“There’s no such thing as decent people,” Yuri said sourly.

Balthus whistled. “You’re a regular beam of sunshine, aren’tcha?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

“You haven’t what now?”

“Take Balthus with you, Yuri.” Lady Rhea’s tone brooked no argument, and Yuri had to give up. It was always a waste of time arguing with a noble. They would just take what they wanted anyway. “You two will take our elite church knights and rescue Byleth. I can lead the way - I think I know where Aelfric and Byleth are.” Rhea’s expression darkened, sending something crawling up Yuri’s spine. Seeing a dangerous expression on her felt…well, it felt more dangerous than usual. “I suspect he is desecrating a corpse right now.”

“Wow,” Balthus said, impressed. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“Captain Jeralt will arrive with the forces soon. We’ll leave then.” Rhea turned around, and Yuri and Balthus exchanged troubled looks. Her voice was poisonous. If she sounded like this, what expression was she hiding so carefully? “Aelfric will learn what Byleth’s true family is capable of.”

“Hell yeah!” Balthus cried, pumping a fist. “Go, fam!”

“We aren’t fam!” Yuri snapped. “What does that even mean?”

“But Lady Rhea just said that the bad guy’s gonna learn what -”

“That doesn’t make you fam.”

“But I’m on the team, and the team’s fam, so -”

“What is fam!”

At the time, Yuri’s only consolation had been the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with Balthus for very long. He was a strong fighter with a compassionate heart, but if Yuri never saw another wealthy and spoiled nobleman again it would be too soon. Yuri hadn’t noticed when Byleth entered his heart, but that final and disastrous kidnapping session had proven it - whether they wielded the weapon or were the weapon, the people closest to you always hurt the most. Better to close your heart.

There were a lot of things Yuri hated about himself. The list was too long to count. But there was always one thing about himself that Yuri hated the most. One thing he just couldn’t stand.

Yuri just couldn’t close his heart. He just couldn’t do it. Every time he failed, and every time he had regretted it. There was no benefit to letting people in. He just couldn’t stop.

But Balthus had saved Byleth’s life that day. So maybe there was a benefit or two. Every once in a great while.

If you were lucky.

_________

Three days after Yuri and a moron saved a little girl from a bastard, Abyss received a visitor.

Yuri received him outside the ruined classroom. It would probably be more professional to bring him to Yuri’s office or something, but Yuri frankly intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Team up with the church knights once and suddenly they think that they have the right to go stomping all around Abyss. But you couldn’t exactly tell the captain of the church knights to get off your lawn, so Yuri told Byleth that he would be back in a few minutes and stood outside the classroom in increasingly frustrated wait.

Byleth had made big eyes at him. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to go. Ugh. He really hoped that this wouldn’t turn into a surprise administrative meeting that took five hours and never accepted Yuri’s input into anything. Yuri was re-teaching Byleth poker - she had undoubtedly already learned before she lost her memory, which was another strike against the ‘secret lovechild of Lady Rhea’ theory that had been admittedly punctured by the corpse of her mother - and she was unsurprisingly excellent at it. Girl was a genius in math.

But Jeralt didn’t show up wearing armor. He was wearing casual, battered furs, leather, and a familiar canvas jacket. Surface people were always tense and anxious in Abyss, expecting to get mugged by rats with daggers at any moment, but there was a different quality about Jeralt’s anxiety. He seemed as if he was steeling himself for something.

“Yuri.” Jeralt’s voice was always attractively husky, but it was closer to hoarse now. “Doing well?”

Yuri bowed, noting the bandage on Jeralt’s temple. “Yes, sir. All healed up. And you? That hit you took looked nasty.”

Jeralt huffed a laugh, rubbing the bandage. “I’ve taken hits from bigger monsters. Don’t worry about it. I would have come to visit earlier, but they only let me out of bed this morning.” Jeralt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Ah…is Byleth doing alright?”

“She’s been having nightmares, but she’s fine.”

“She is?” Jeralt looked unreasonably alarmed. “Is she waking up at night? What are you doing to help? Tea -”

“She’s been sleeping in my bed the past few nights, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” Yuri eyed Jeralt, suspicions only growing. There was something off about this conversation. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Right. Ah, right.” Jeralt shifted again and coughed. Mysteriously, he took off his cap and held it tightly. “I was hoping to drop in and say hello. See how she is.”

Like hell he would.

“Byleth is busy doing her schoolwork.” Yuri’s voice could have frozen a flame. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“We don’t have to talk.” There was something old and weary in Jeralt. His husky voice was more of a rasp. “I just want to see her.”

Before he could restrain himself, Yuri snapped, “And why do you want to see her so badly?”

Snapping at the captain of the church knights. Fantastic. This was how you protected people - by alienating everybody else who wanted to help. That would do it.

Jeralt did want to help. The man had been withdrawn and quiet during their rescue mission, but he had been the first to rescue Byleth’s mother’s corpse and prevent it from melting into the monster. He probably would have been the first to rescue Byleth if Yuri hadn’t gotten there first - if Yuri hadn’t used a careful vein of magic to swap positions with her. Byleth had landed safely near the entrance and Aelfric had found a nasty surprise when he turned to look down upon a girl laid out on an altar and came eye-to-eye with Yuri’s dagger.

But that didn’t mean anything. Aelfric had helped Yuri and Byleth too, and look where that got them. Yuri didn’t know anything about Jeralt. He could have ulterior motives. He worked closely with Rhea, who was nothing but ulterior motives. The only person Yuri was certain didn’t have ulterior motives was Balthus, who was just clearly too stupid.

Jeralt didn’t grow angry or defensive. He just looked a little sad. Yuri crossed his arms, fighting the urge to bristle. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped.”

Jeralt huffed a small laugh. “It ain’t exactly easy on the onlookers, either. It’s alright if you’re not alright.”

“I’ll persevere somehow.” Yuri was quickly losing track of this conversation. Why was Jeralt asking about this? “Did Rhea tell you to check up on us?

“Rhea doesn’t know I’m here. She’s…strongly encouraged me to stay away from Abyss.” Jeralt’s mouth twisted unhappily. “She’s right. I really shouldn’t be here. I just…wanted to see her.”

“And why is that?”

For a long, long moment, Jeralt didn’t answer. Great. He couldn’t even think of a good lie. He couldn’t even say that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t injured, or assure himself that he had gotten her out of there intact - Yuri would have even believed those bland excuses. But he had nothing to say for himself at all. How suspect.

The door creaked open, and Yuri spun around just in time to see Byleth poking her head out of the classroom. Yuri opened his mouth, ready to reprimand her and shuffle her quickly back inside where no suspicious men resided, but he was too slow. The second Byleth saw Jeralt her eyes widened, and Yuri saw her eyes light up for the first time.

“Jeralt!” Byleth cried.

She dived forwards, and Jeralt automatically crouched down to accept the hug. They squeezed each other tightly - Byleth hanging on for dear life, Jeralt fighting shuddering breaths. His hand pressed on the back of her lead, warm and protective.

So she could speak. Yuri had been wondering. Her first word of her new life was…Jeralt. That was fine. Good for her. And Jeralt.

“Hey, kid,” Jeralt rasped, throat thick. “How’ve you been?”

Byleth patted the top of his head.

Alright, that was enough. Yuri took the white collar of Byleth’s neat little navy blue dress, pulling gently until he reeled her back away from Jeralt. The effect was somewhat like a scruffed kitten, but whatever worked. Yuri’s carefully tied puffy twin pigtails didn’t help the kitten impression.

“Don’t run towards strange people,” Yuri scolded. “This is why you keep getting kidnapped.”

Byleth wriggled around until Yuri finally sighed and released her. Jeralt slowly rose, but Byleth ran back towards him and tugged hard at his jacket. Jeralt raised a patient eyebrow, watching Byleth carefully.

Yuri had distantly noticed it before, but now that Byleth drew attention to the jacket it was obvious. It was a very familiar jacket. Not identical to Byleth’s old one - the giant canvas jacket that she never took off - but it was similar in fit and cut.

“What do you need?” Jeralt asked. Byleth tugged harder at the jacket, as if she was trying to pull it off him. “Use your words, kid. You can do it.” Byleth heroically attempted to rip the jacket from Jeralt’s body. Yuri made a strangled noise, but Jeralt didn’t blink. “You have to start speaking up sometime. I bet Yuri over there wants to hear your voice too.”

Byleth’s eyebrows ticked together, but she finally released the jacket. She stared fixedly at Jeralt, who amicably allowed himself to be stared at. Finally, she said, “Aelfric lost jacket.”

Automatically, Yuri corrected, “Aelfric lost my jacket.”

“Aelfric lost my jacket,” Byleth parroted. She poked at Jeralt’s canvas jacket again. “I want the jacket again.”

Turned out that there was one way Byleth could be even more trouble - opening her mouth. Yuri sighed, already regretting his life. “Byleth, you’re being incredibly rude. You can’t just ask adults to -”

But Jeralt was already shucking his jacket, with no hesitation or thought, and passing it to Byleth. She brightened, clutching the thick material tightly and burying her face in it. She smelled it deeply, making Jeralt’s expression crease into something absolutely unfamiliar to Yuri, before swinging the jacket on and allowing it to swallow her up yet again. This edition went to her knees, looking far more like a baggy coat than anything else, but she beamed up at Jeralt in absolute joy anyway. She turned to Yuri, spreading her arms out and silently bragging about how great her new jacket was.

Something that should have been obvious weeks ago suddenly became extremely obvious. “You’re the one who gave her that first jacket. The one she never took off.”

“She never took it off?” Jeralt smiled a little, but the weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow. “I gave it to her after I rescued her from her kidnappers last time. She was - ah, she just seemed cold. I assumed she had thrown it away or something.”

“You’re the one who rescued her?” Hadn’t Lady Rhea mentioned something about this? “Wait - are you the one who brought Byleth to Garreg Mach?”

“Yup. It’s why I wanted to see her again.” Jeralt patted the top of Byleth’s head, who swelled her chest in pride. “She’s picked up a habit of getting into trouble.”

That did explain it. No wonder he was invested. After so much work invested in keeping her alive, Yuri would want to check up on her too. Why couldn’t he just say that?

Byleth looked seriously up at Jeralt. “Thank you for the jacket.”

“I knew you had manners in there somewhere.” Jeralt crouched down again, looking just above Byleth’s head. Yuri had noted weeks ago that she didn’t like eye contact, but it seemed that Jeralt knew that too. “Try not to lose that one. But if you do, come right back to me and I’ll give you another one. Alright?”

Byleth nodded.

Jeralt sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Byleth leaned into the touch a little. “Be more careful from now on. Your world will only grow more dangerous as you get older. You have to be ready, so train hard.” Impulsively, he took the cap off his head and placed it on her own. It fell over her eyes immediately, far too large for her, but she hurriedly pushed it upwards. “Listen to that brother of yours. His life looks hard enough already, so don’t make it any harder.”

Byleth’s eyes widened. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Yuri squawked. “Please, Captain, Rhea hired me to supervise her. This is just an arrangement.”

Jeralt shifted to look at him, and Yuri saw flint in his eyes for the first time. “We need to separate Byleth from her past life even further. We don’t know if Aelfric told anybody about the identity of Byleth’s mother. Connecting her to you is safest for both of you. Guess I should have asked first, but it’s a matter of her safety.”

“This is an arrangement.”

“Then arrange a fake relationship. You need some excuse for why you’re joined at the hip. Pretend she’s some orphan you took in under your wing - it’s not even a lie.” Jeralt straightened, turning to look at Yuri for the first time. His expression was somber and serious, but he looked smaller without his jacket. “Look, kid. I admit I wasn’t happy when Rhea passed her off to you. Rhea has her own reasons for everything she does, and you’re…”

He trailed off, clearly struggling for political correctness, before Yuri took pity on him. “An ex-whore who moonlights as Rhea’s lackey?”

“Saints, kid, that’s not what I was about to say -”

“What’s a whore?” Byleth asked loudly.

Yuri looked down at her. “Somebody who’s so good at something that they never do it for free.” Byleth nodded sagely, and Yuri looked back up at Jeralt. Jeralt didn’t seem happy, but Yuri wasn’t paid enough to entertain him. “And even if you weren’t crass enough to say it, it’s the truth. You don’t trust Rhea and I do whatever she says. Trust me, Captain, I wouldn’t be happy either. You don’t have to cozy up to me.”

“I wasn’t happy because you’re seventeen years old,” Jeralt said firmly. Yuri rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. What was with adult men always reminding him that he was in his teens? Did they get off on it or something? “I knew Rhea would put her with somebody she trusted absolutely. I just didn’t want that person to be you.”

Of course he didn’t! Who the hell would? Yuri was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion about Jeralt’s relationship to Byleth - nobody else would have thought to rescue a corpse before an imminent battle - and no self-respecting father would want their daughter around somebody like Yuri. Byleth was pure and innocent. As innocent as a thirteen year old could ever be - wiped clean of her old life, completely noncognizant of the world around her. How often had she seen the sun since she met Yuri? She hadn’t even spoken before now. The girl had a damned imaginary friend, for heaven’s sake. Byleth was innocent in every way, and Yuri was filthy.

“Saints, kid, don’t give me that face. It’s not because of your background. It’s just obvious that you have more than enough on your plate. Don’t you have a city to govern? Evil errands to run for Rhea? I just don’t know how the hell you have time.”

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Yuri snapped. “I have more than one skillset, you know.”

Jeralt exhaled heavily, scrubbing his face. “You are the least charitable - never mind.” He was uncharitable? Maybe he just didn’t buy stupid lies. “None of this is coming out right. What I’m trying to say is that you need whatever help you can get. Calling yourself siblings would make your life easier. But I’m hardly going to force you into it. Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not in charge of you.” Slightly quieter, he said, “I’m not in charge of either of you.”

Yuri wanted to call Jeralt a bad father. He knew already that Jeralt was probably the best father he’d ever met. Taking up a job with somebody he clearly hated for the sake of staying near a daughter he was barely allowed to see. Who he couldn’t even claim, because some mysteriously evil people were after her and she was safest in complete anonymity. Some fathers would cheer at the opportunity to ditch their daughters, but the pain in Jeralt’s voice was real. And yet he wanted to tie her to Yuri.

It would only contaminate her. He was already ruining her. Yuri had to stay away, he had to keep her out - if only for her own sake. To protect her from Yuri, and to protect Yuri from the world. Yuri couldn’t let anybody else inside. Too dangerous for everybody.

But refusing Jeralt’s proposal wouldn’t protect her from the world. And maybe a father was thinking about a factor that Yuri had missed completely.

The fact that her mother was a shockingly well-preserved corpse and her father had to disown her. Rhea was somehow related to her, which was bad enough, but she couldn’t claim her either. Even Yuri had a mother. To the world, Byleth was alone. That was…

“Fine.” Yuri had lost this battle. He had probably also lost the war. Whatever. He fought for his own side anyway. “But I won’t force her to call me that. She’s not terribly attached to me.”

It was the rational thought. Yuri had repeatedly left her alone with a freak and allowed her to get kidnapped again. It was a miracle her real family hadn’t fired Yuri the second she got kidnapped.

But Byleth’s brow furrowed in outrage. Yuri fought the urge to startle - he had almost forgotten she was there. “I like you.”

The words stopped Yuri short. He wasn’t sure why. They weren’t strange words, were they?

His hesitation must have been obvious, even to Byleth, because she promptly grabbed him in a giant hug. It was small, comforting, and warm. Her small body fit nicely next to his, and when he folded his arms over her he could almost envelop her.

Jeralt just gave him a wry grin. “I guess you were too far away to hear. Remember how I was right next to you when you swapped positions with her?” Yuri nodded. “When she appeared in your place, I scooped her up and put her on my horse immediately. I think she knew what had happened. She called out your name. Damn near tried to jump from my horse and run towards you too.”

That didn’t seem right. But she had hugged him after the fight, hadn’t she? Balthus had called it adorable. Come to think of it, Balthus had asked if Byleth was his sister too…Yuri hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t know what to say now.

Jeralt propped a hand on a hip, smiling. “You see that, Byleth? Yuri didn’t know you liked him. From now on you’ll have to speak up and tell him you like him a lot.” Byleth nodded fastidiously. “Attagirl. Hey, can you take that book from the inside pocket and pass it to your brother? It has something he might want to see.”

Byleth eagerly separated from Yuri and completed the errand, pulling out a small book from a jacket pocket and passing it to Yuri. Yuri opened it and began flipping through it, just barely catching scraps of documents and notes that came slipping out.

“Check the last few pages,” Jeralt said. “We found it in Aelfric’s things. Actually, that klepto student found it. Is that guy a friend of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Yuri muttered.

Byleth stared up at Jeralt. “Is Balthus my brother too?”

“No,” Yuri said.

Jeralt shrugged. “If you want. He’s rich, so maybe you can fleece him.”

“I already tried,” Yuri said distantly, flipping through the book. Something about four crests…notes on a very familiar crest. Balthus’ pilfered paperwork had already revealed that Aelfric had targeted him for his crest. That had burned. Yuri was trying not to think about it. “He’s broke and only attracted to older women.”

Pity, too - Yuri could have had an excellent sucker on that reel. He made his move during the ‘post-rescue a little girl drinking party!’, but Balthus just pointedly pretended he didn’t pick up on what Yuri was doing and started talking loudly about how Yuri reminded him of a hypothetical younger brother. It was frustrating. Yuri still didn’t know why Balthus had helped him. There was probably a secret motive that Yuri just hadn’t picked up on yet. Or maybe Balthus actually -

Yuri stopped short. This page was about Balthus. About the von Adalbrechts, and some sort of mysterious crest in their family legend. Right alongside a personality profile on Balthus…notes on his attendance and conduct issues…character notes…records of meetings and conversations with Balthus…lists of broken school rules…apparently psychologically unstable…

Yuri flipped a page backwards. It was on him. He caught a few paragraphs on his history before he quickly flipped forward. He didn’t want to know what Aelfric thought of his personality. Probably just called him a slut for two straight pages. Definitely marked him down as psychologically unstable.

But there were people besides Yuri and Balthus in the notebook. Right after Balthus’ incomplete profile, there was another name and short descriptor. Constance von Nuvelle. Another rich bitch noblewoman. Current student of the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery…extremely high grades for her first few years at the school before they plummeted half a year ago. Now at risk of dropping out. Extensive record of conduct issues, same as Balthus. Aelfric made note of…severe psychological instability, whatever that meant. And a certain crest…

Yuri flipped through Constance’s profile until he found another. Hapi, no last name - a commoner. Extensive hypothesizing on the power of her crest and little information about her. Current resident of a church in the middle of nowhere. Psychologically unstable.

“This explains why Aelfric was having those private meetings with Balthus,” Yuri muttered. “I guess we both have powerful crests. These two women must also have powerful crests…but why keep tabs on them specifically? Why keep tabs on all of us?”

“Aelfric talked about blood a lot,” Byleth said seriously. Yuri really shouldn’t have left him alone with her.

“I should contact Lady Rhea about this,” Yuri said. He continued flipping through the book - going through Yuri Leclarc, Balthus von Adalbrecht, Constance von Nuvelle, and Hapi’s profiles again and again. Four strangers placed right next to each other, thrown together by fate. “She’ll definitely be interested in learning about Constance and Hapi.”

Byleth peered over his arm, trying to take a glance at the book. Yuri let her. She could barely read. Maybe secrets would incentivize her to keep learning. “Are they important?”

“Probably not,” Yuri said.

But even then, he had lied. Even then, he had already known.

Call it intuition.

#my writing #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #dimileth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #yuri leclerc #byleth eisner #fun fact. writing claude in his story was so incredibly fun #that i stopped writing this and turned around and wrote a #60k claude POV fic #instead of finishing this.#the claude pov fic is exclusively for me nobody will read it that is fine but it is fucking insane.

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fancy--that · 1 year

Text

An Analysis of Burr and Hamilton that no one asked for but I made anyway

DISCLAIMER: this is only musical related

In “Alexander Hamilton” Burr acknowledges the fact that he was “the damn fool” because he killed Alexander. He recognizes Alexander’s intelligence and that his ideas were good ideas despite the resentment he had for him this doesn’t erase their rivalry but it shows that Burr can appreciate the kind of mind and abilities that Hamilton had that were ended too quickly because of Burr.

Burr first meets Alexander in “Aaron Burr, Sir” Alexander is excited to meet Burr, he’s heard of him and admits to wanting to be like him which is why he enrolled in college, he points out their similarities at being orphans and instantly believes that Burr will have the same kind of ideals that he does. When Burr offers him advice he’s enthusiastic to accept it until Burr tells him to “talk less, smile more” something he wasn’t expecting. He’s assuming that since he and Burr are so alike Burr is going to be “nonstop” like he is. Despite looking up to Burr as almost a kind of role model the very moment Burr disappoints him he stops the “fan behavior” and turns towards 3 new friends who are telling him everything he wants to hear leaving Burr forgotten and developing a superiority complex over him which is reflected in “My Shot” when he ignores more of Burr’s (foreshadowing) advice that if he keeps on the way he is there will be disastrous consequences for him. Burr is only trying to help in the beginning, especially since Alexander came to HIM.

“The Schuyler Sisters” tries to paint Burr in a negative light and yes he was a smarmy little bastard who wanted money but in “A Winter’s Ball” Alexander does the exact same thing “is it a question of if Burr or which one” treating the sisters as though they are a commodity. Burr shows interest in Angelica because she is the eldest and would offer him the most power but Alexander would be content with any one of them because of their power and fortune.

In “Farmer Refuted” Burr AGAIN gives Alexander advice, despite the fact that Alexander has already ignored it twice before (and does it again) Burr is trying to play smart by not causing unnecessary trouble. Despite the fact that Alexander does have an excellent point about speaking up when something is wrong, I’m more inclined to agree with Alexander here actually but keep in mind once again Alexander came to him for advice originally in the beginning, advice that Burr continues to hope that he will follow.

In “Right Hand Man” we see the first “climax” of their rivalry. Burr takes an offensive step by meeting with Washington without being asked but is immediately brushed aside by Hamilton even though Burr has ideas to share. Even if this was Washington’s doing Burr is understandably upset that first Alexander ignores his advice and gets acclaim and then steals Burr’s thunder. He then takes the “right hand man” position that Burr wanted despite hating it. Getting all of Burr’s accomplishments and STILL not being satisfied with it which would make anyone upset. Burr does something other than “waiting for it” and it backfires on him.

“Satisfied” goes back to the point of Alexander really wouldn’t have cared what Scyhluer he ended up with. He originally focuses on Angelica I believe for the same reason that Burr did because of her seniority over her sisters but when she “gave him over” to Eliza he wasn’t really complaining because she is also a Scyhluer. Notice how he even comments “Scyhuler?” “My sister” He doesn’t care because its still in the family, even if they did end up falling in love it could have still been Angelica or maybe even Peggy that he was made to meet and he wouldn’t have cared because of their social status and money. Angelica even says “he’s after me cause I’m a Scyhluer sister that elevates his status” She KNOWS Alexander has ulterior motives and didn’t just approach her by accident but she genuinely liked him despite him coming from nothing the same way that Eliza liked him which is how she’s able to look past his obvious interest in her status.

Burr shows up to the wedding to offer his congratulations and we see a little more into his mind. Burr has fallen in love with a woman who is cheating on her husband with him. And in “Wait For It” we see that he genuinely is in love with her. Can we brush aside the fact that it’s morally okay for Burr to knowingly be in this relationship because her husband is on the British side? Maybe, maybe not. But this is the first time we see a lot of Burr’s true feelings. He’s “waiting for it” taking his time and playing the long game because he’s trying to enjoy every moment and trying to prove himself and he doesn’t believe he has to go fast in order to make it happen. He holds resentment towards Alexander because he keeps climbing the ladder, stealing his opportunities and Burr feels powerless to do anything but watch because of his own ideals. He even clarifies that he isn’t “falling behind or running late” and he’s not “standing still” he’s waiting for the opportunities to come to him which isn’t something you can always do. A lot of the time if you don’t go out and try to seize opportunities then you will lose them which is why Burr hates Hamilton because he has that drive to go meet the opportunities rather than waiting for them to come to him but Burr is WILLING to wait for them because he knows the wait will be worth it when he gets what he wants.

When Burr says that Hamilton “has something to prove and nothing to lose” he’s displaying their differences. Despite both being orphans Hamilton’s parents gave him a legacy to overcome while Burr’s parents gave him a legacy to protect. Hamilton HAS to make something of himself in order to rise above the legacy his parents started while Burr cannot afford to make mistakes. Hamilton is only risking is own legacy that didn’t start out well in the first place while Burr is carrying the legacy of his family. Additionally when Burr talks about Hamilton thriving making him want to wait for it he’s saying he doesn’t understand why Hamilton is able to do what he does but he hopes that by following his advice of “talk less, smile more” he will eventually crack the code and be able to do the same when the time comes.

In “Ten Dual Commandments” Burr is second to Charles Lee and tries to discourage Laurens and Hamilton from the duel. Again he doesn’t agree with senseless or public displays of violence as was shown in “Farmer Refuted” despite being Lee’s second. He sees duels to be “dumb and immature” yet he seems to expect that Alexander once again neglects to listen to his advice. He doesn’t believe Lee should have to pay with his life for a few rude remarks made against Washington but Hamilton is too prideful to let it go and he only eggs Laurens on since he himself cannot take part in it directly. Yet another example of Alexander not following Burr’s advice and it backfiring on him as Washington discharges him.

After the war Burr and Hamilton both become lawyers and Hamilton quickly rises above Burr because of his “non-stop” attitude. We can see Burr’s growing frustration with Hamilton for believing that he is more intelligent or the “smartest in the room” and even though we know that Alexander IS very intelligent Burr’s annoyance is deserved as Hamilton has a superiority complex over him and an insufferable condescending attitude that would piss anyone off though some of his frustrations are also festering over years of petty rivalry. He also questions why Alexander always speaks his mind as he believes its a recipe for a disaster because since he keeps nothing secret his enemies will always have something to attack him with while at this point Burr has no enemies because of his amable and calm attitude about everything. He doesn’t stand for anything which while not being right ensures that he doesn’t have to fight anyone for anything. Then later when Hamilton approaches Burr for help with the Constitution, admitting Burr is a better lawyer than him he verbally attacks Burr about his attitude of “standing to the side” saying he doesn’t understand how after everything they’ve fought for, everything they’ve done he still remains stalled in place with no clear fighting drive, taking no stands.

Burr concedes again that he is simply biding his time watching how things go and waiting for his perfect opportunity. He’s trying to be safe by not letting people know what he’s against and what he’s for and playing cautious.

“The Room Where It Happens” is a HUGE turning point. When Burr asks Hamilton how he plans to get his debt plan through Hamilton says he’s going to take Burr’s “talk less smile more” advice. However there is a sinister glint to it. He says the words cynically with an unsettling tension. Where once he questioned what Burr would fall for he HIMSELF is losing his hold upon his strong ideals and because Jefferson and Madison are such fierce opponents he’s forced to use other methods rather than his own. Proving that while misguided in some instances Burr’s advice isn’t bad, but Alexander is only using it in this instance because it will get him what he wants which is almost a slap in the face as Burr knows Hamilton will only listen to what he has to say when its convenient for him.

Additionally Burr is upset that the position of the Capitol is only being discussed by three people and that other representatives (like himself) are not present to help make the decision and that Hamilton is just going to sell out New York to get what he wants so he can keep winning. When Burr says “you got more than you gave” he is criticizing Hamilton’s manipulative tactics that he uses to achieve his goals, and Hamilton’s response is more or less “yeah, and?” In this instance Hamilton is immoral, he got what he wanted by being manipulative and by taking Burr’s advice and Burr is understandably upset because despite this Hamilton is still winning. Hamilton also doesn’t seem to care about playing fairly as long as he makes it to the top, he doesn’t even try to correct Burr’s accusation because he knows Burr is right but he doesn’t care about morals at this point he’s basically saying “look how far ahead i am compared to you.” and he doesn’t even try to justify his actions, he simply does not care because he got what he wanted, another example of his superiority complex and arrogance. In using Burr’s advice he’s hiding his intentions.

And even as Alexander is taking Burr’s advice he says “you get nothing if you wait for it” he’s making fun of Burr’s policy of waiting for opportunities rather than acting on them. And then the chorus comes in rather aggressively asking Burr what he wants, almost like a reflection of Burr’s thoughts because while many have been busy contributing and pushing what exactly HAS he been doing? He feels increasingly more inferior to his colleagues and this only solidifies it further. If Burr is ever going to accomplish anything he’s going to have to figure out what he wants and he reveals that his “I want” is to get the glory of being a person in “the room where it happens” a metaphor for being someone in power who can make decisions and impacts. Unlike Hamilton however he expresses no strong beliefs or motivations that can help propel him in this want. This part of the song however also foreshadows Burr’s run for a Senate seat and eventually for president.

In “Scyhluer Defeated” Burr finally takes Alexander’s advice where he runs for Senate and takes Phillip’s seat. Hamilton doesn’t understand how Burr even managed to get elected while not speaking out on any specific campaigns or openly campaigning while Burr’s retort is that people like him better than they like Hamilton. Hamilton also takes it personally while Burr defends that he is only seizing an opportunity, taking Alexander’s advice by not waiting for it, this is the second time he has done it and the second time he is receiving backlash for it. However this is also a self blow for Burr, he has no problem changing his political party just to get the position because he has no clear positions, beliefs, or ideals and it is the reason Hamilton doesn’t endorse him when he runs for President.

In “Washington On Your Side” Burr forms a tentative alliance with Madison and Jefferson under the “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” policy. All three of them have the same thing in common which is not liking Hamilton though Jefferson and Madison were already friends before this leaving Burr as a kind of outsider brought together with them only because of their mutual hate for Hamilton which continues into “We Know” finding joy in the fact that he can knock Alexander down a few pegs especially since Washington resigned and Jefferson is now vice president.

The Election of 1800 is when things start to spiral. Burr takes Alexander’s advice for a third time and it backfires on him. First he openly campaigns which surprises Alexander, Burr wants to be president so he’s taking an offensive stance but despite having some public support he still “talks less and smiles more” leaving no one knowing what he stands for which isn’t good if you’re really trying to win and as mentioned before because of this Hamilton endorses Jefferson instead of him because “Jefferson has beliefs, Burr has none” this is also the song where Burr snaps because his alliance with Jefferson and Madison is broken once they have gotten what they want and now Burr is left alone feeling angry and betrayed.

“Your Obedient Servant” is a song full of hatred and Burr not thinking clearly only choosing to be angry over his defeat, not understanding how Hamilton could endorse his enemy Jefferson believing it only to be because Hamilton didn’t want him to win. Burr says that every time he has tried anything Hamilton has been there to screw it up for him in some way. While Hamilton fires back that Burr’s own lacks of ideals and his passive attitude was his downfall. Burr is now the one taking it personally and he’s done being passive about it and when Hamilton tells him that he means everything he says and refuses to apologize Burr challenges him to a duel. He’s acting purely out of anger instead of reason, going against his own ideology of “waiting for it”. He’s acting like Hamilton despite every other time he has done so it has not worked out for him.

“The World Was Wide Enough” offers a tone shift. Burr isn’t thinking with his head he’s letting his jealousy, anger and years of festering hatred cloud his judgment. The election was essentially the straw that broke the camel’s back and now all of Burr’s careful calculation and passiveness is gone. And because of what he has seen thus far he believes Hamilton will also want to shoot him the way he wants to shoot him. The moment he sees Hamilton raise his pistol to the sky everything changes. Hamilton “throws away his shot”.

Burr screams out “wait” which has been his watch word the entire show and this is the very last time he says/sings it. Burr instantly regrets once he sees that Hamilton did not aim for him. But this time it is too late for Burr to “wait for it” it has already been done, he let his emotions rule him, in following Alexander’s opportunity to not “stand to the side” he has killed him, Hamilton’s own advice played part in his demise. After a lifetime of patience the one and only time Burr acts rashly he immediately regrets it and wishes he had not. In this moment they have switched roles, Hamilton hanging back and Burr charging forward and it ended in tragedy. Burr feels immediate remorse for what he has done even trying to approach Hamilton.

Burr also comments that because of what he has done he has painted as a villain in history without anyone taking into account what he went through that led up to this moment. He is not entirely without blame but neither is Alexander and he feels as though nobody ever touches on his side of the story to try and understand why he would act like this. And he is forced to pay for Alexander’s death with this villinization. Once he has adopted his own ideology again of calm and clarity he realizes his mistake, he has remorse and regret understanding that their petty rivalry did not have to end this way, that they both could have lived if only he hadn’t been so blind to let Hamilton get to him.

I don’t believe the world could have been wide enough for the both of them. When Hamilton succeeds Burr is left on the sideline and when Burr succeeds the same happens to Hamilton. They are painted as two sides of the same coin, two souls always in battle. And it would never have worked with the two of them ending up alive.

Burr was not a villain. One of the morals in the story is that Burr is not the monster that he is often portrayed as, he was human, and he acted as a human. He made a mistake and we don’t condone his murder of Hamilton but you can sympathize with him, understanding why he acted so rashly.

Hamilton’s logic is flawed. While I am inclined to believe his ideology that you must speak up against the wrongs of the world and seize opportunities. You’ll notice that the one time Hamilton follows Burr’s advice in “The Room Where It Happens” he succeeds while the numerous times that Burr follows Hamilton it ends in disaster. In “The World Was Wide Enough” Hamilton has accepted his death because in “Best of Wives and Best of Women” it is heavily implied that Hamilton KNOWS Burr is going to shoot at him even if he aims for the sky, he’s already accepted his death so when he acts like Burr and “throws away his shot” and draws back its not negatively impacting Burr’s ideology because Hamilton already knew it was going to happen.

Hamilton’s demise was his fault. You move to a new place, meet your idol and then proceed to ignore every piece of advice he gives you, take away every opportunity he wants, berate him, condescend him, sacrifice your own morals to win and then he shoots you. While Burr could have been more proactive in getting what he wants it is Hamilton’s constant cockiness that ends up getting him killed. As Burr warned him “Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead” And in the one instance where Hamilton followed Burr’s advice and succeeded if he had followed Burr’s advice in “talking less” he would still be alive, showing that while Burr’s logic might not be right morally for not taking any stances its smarter than Hamilton’s.

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #aaron burr #hamilton musical #analysis

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

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*rubs hands together* Might I request “Can I have this dance?” for Valdo x Reader? (if not I’ll gladly take Jaskier x Reader lol)

A/N: I cannot even begin to explain the grin on my face from this request. I can only hope the result pleases.Word Count: 1848 (a lovely vintage)Rating: T (maybe M?)Content Warning: light angst, implied smut

Valdo Marx was seething. The invitation from the king of Cidaris to play at the prince’s birthday made sense. After all, he was the “Troubadour of Cidaris” and quite famously known. And then when he arrived, he was given this…this insult, this disgrace. It was not the ballroom or even the banquet hall that he was playing. He was shoved in the back corner of some cramped study, playing the same three ballads over, and over, and over for a bunch of stuffy intellectuals, who didn’t even appreciate his talent and were talking over him.

“Minstrel!” one of the black-robed philosophers said, snapping at him like a dog. “Come here.”

He snarled, considering not answering, or responding with a swift strike to the man’s face. But he had a reputation to uphold and would not be seen as undignified, so he set his violin carefully aside on the red-cloth draped table and walked over to the man.

“Don’t you think it’s time to take a break?” the man – Harilad of Rissberg, Valdo recognized – said, making it clear in his tone that the comment was not truly meant as a suggestion.

Valdo reeled back, shocked and trying to school his face back into calm. He glanced around the room at all of the chattering men, most unaffected by the absence of “ambiance” and some even looking relieved.

“Pardon me sir?” he asked quietly, feigning confusion as to Harilad’s meaning.

“To be frank young man, we are attending this ridiculous party out of obligation, and trying to take advantage of the fact that we have been granted leave to gather together outside the insipid peacocking of the main events. Your continuous shrieking on that thing may pass to the masses as music but it is unwanted here.”

Valdo felt his heart drop and he swallowed down the urge to rise to the bait.

“Yes, good man,” another man said, not even bothering to look up from the chess game he was engaged in. “Our debating is much easier without the noise.”

‘Noise?! It was music!’ He flushed angrily. ‘Good music! His performances were praised by emperors, by other artists, by a fae queen! And he dared to call it “noise”?!’

He turned on his heel, collecting his instrument and all but stormed out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind him deliberately. Looking around the hall, he saw that there were not many people passing, for which he was quite thankful. He felt…less than put together and did not want to be seen like this. With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall not far from the door and closed his eyes. He felt his world spinning, a familiar but long suppressed feeling of self-doubt bubbling up in his chest.

You had been looking for Valdo all night. Rumor had circled that the king had summoned all of the greatest bards from around the continent for the prince’s coming of age, so obviously he would be in attendance, somewhere. The problem was that quite a few different rooms had been opened, each with a different theme or purpose and you didn’t have the time to look through every one of them for him.

It had been many long weeks since you’d seen him, leaving a strange pseudo-relationship between you when you had parted ways. You hadn’t wanted, but you were a baroness’s personal servant, and had to follow your mistress when she went on a long progress touring her lands, and Valdo’s commissions were taking him in a different direction, and unfortunately, timing had meant that you hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye.

Following the sounds of violin, Valdo’s preferred instrument for courtly performances, you wandered into a room draped in fine gauzy cloths and filled with a sweet-smelling smoke. You coughed, fanning the air in front of your face ineffectually to try and clear the air so you could better breathe. The room was populated by people who lay in hedonistic recline and various states of undress. Nearly naked dancers undulated and swayed for the lounging guests, and a heated blush crawled across your face and neck.

Even squinting through the haze you could not make out the face of the resident musician and silently willed yourself to move closer. Hands brushed against yours invitingly, trying to coax you to join them on couches and divans, moving bodies pressed toward you in a tease. You swallowed thickly. Finally getting a good look, you sighed, almost in relief that the curly haired and clearly embarrassed young man was not Valdo, and quickly fled the room.

You continued down the hall, frustration building as you passed room after room with no sound of strings.

‘Where was he?’ you wondered. ‘Was it possible that he had in fact not attended? Or perhaps he has found a distraction in someone other than me.’ The thought made your gut twist in an unfamiliar way. The pair of you had mostly flirted, only once exchanging a heated kiss, both wine-drunk and dizzy, in a broom closet after one of your mistress’s banquets. He likely didn’t even know you would be at the celebration. There was no reason to believe he would wait or seek you.

Just as you were considering giving up and returning to the baroness’s side for the rest of the night (despite her insistence that you were attending as her guest and should enjoy the night off), you spotted someone seated against the curve of a corner, head in their hands, fingers buried in familiar dark curls. His doublet was rumpled, the rich blue velvet riding up in the back to expose a black undershirt, as if he had slid down into his current position.

“Valdo?” you asked softly, kneeling beside him in concern, hoping that he would not be angry at the disturbance.

He looked up at you, lips parted softly in surprise. “Y/N? I…I didn’t expect you to be here.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to ask if he seriously believed that a Cidarian noble would skip such an important and prestigious event. He chuckled, the sound tinged with unhappiness and you frowned.

“What’s…what’s wrong?” you asked hesitantly.

“Everything.” He tilted his head back to rest against the stones and stare up at the ceiling. “I’ve been made an utter fool by men half in the grave. They called my performance noise, and shrieking!”

You felt a bubble of rage rising up in you. “Well obviously they have no taste. Or they’re morons. Those are the only explanations.”

“Some of the most brilliant and renowned scholars in the world were in that room, Y/N.”

“Oh good, so they wouldn’t know decent music if it bit them.”

He rolled his head to stare at you, intense green eyes boring into you.

You shifted uncomfortably at the attention but plowed onward. “You are the Valdo Marx. A lyrical genius. Master of three instruments, four if you count that weird box thing you showed me—“

“Hurdy-gurdy,” he interrupted softly and you stuck your tongue at him.

“As I was saying…you have more talent in your left little finger than they could collectively dream of possessing. If they would dismiss you then they don’t deserve you. For that matter, if the king would push you off to a side room, he doesn’t either.”

Your eyes flashed with a passionate fire as you praised him, and Valdo found himself awed by it. For all that he had been complimented and flattered throughout his illustrious career, none of them has ever struck him the way yours did now.

“Thank you, Y/N. That’s very kind.” He rolled his eyes at the flatness of the statement, not nearly enough to express what he was feeling. Still, you blushed, looking down at your knees which you had tucked up to your chest at some point during the conversation.

The pair of you sat in an awkward silence, both unsure of the other’s intentions or where to go from here. With the quiet, you were able to catch the opening strains of one of your favorite reels drifting out from the ballroom. On an impulse you seized Valdo’s hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the sound.

As you led him through the doors and turned to face him, he cast you a questioning look.

“Since we both have the rest of the night free, and this is one of my favorite songs, and it might cheer you some…can I have this dance?” you asked, holding yourself, waiting expectant and hopeful, in the starting position.

Smirking, he fitted himself against you, far closer than was strictly necessary. “It would be my great pleasure.”

As you spun in great whorls across the floor with the other dancers, your gazes were intent, lost in each other. When the steps called for you to part, your hands lingered reluctantly, and when you came back together you felt his grip flex, pressing you teasingly closer. The dance required him to lift you into the air and you flushed, swearing that you felt his mouth brush against your stomach when he did.

Unable to resist any longer, as your feet planted on the ground again in a little stomp, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pulled his mouth to meet yours. He returned the kiss with vigor, teeth gliding against your lower lip. You parted for him with a low groan as he tasted and explored your mouth, memorizing every inch.

Pulling away breathlessly, he looked at you with a heated intensity that made you shiver.

“You mentioned having the whole night?” he whispered, lips brushing the curve of your ear.

You nodded, lost for words and he grinned wolfishly.

“Then what do you say we continue this dance somewhere more private?”

Suddenly remembering the room the baroness had secured for you upstairs, you nodded, taking his hand and leading him, a coquettish sway to your hips.

The next morning, you awoke alone, the other side of the bed cold. You felt your heart drop, ashamed that you had let him get to you so completely (but in no way regretting the impassioned tangle) only to have him slip away.

Sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your face and swung your feet out of bed. When the blanket shifted, a folded paper fluttered to the floor, your name written in graceful calligraphy across it. Opening it you read,

My dear Y/N,

Last night was truly special. And waking beside you, seeing you in the pre-dawn was a sight I will not forget. I will cherish you and these memories in my heart. I regret that I could not say goodbye or stay, but I am summoned to Oxenfurt and I dare not miss the performance, so I had to depart quickly. I had not planned for my night to contain such a wonderful distraction.

I pray that I will see you again soon, and if it is at another ball, that I can have a dance?

Yours,

Valdo Marx

#Valdo Marx x Reader #The Witcher #The Witcher fic #Valdo Marx #reader insert #my first request!#oh this was a lot of fun #send me more! I'm on a roll #I sort of lost the spirit of the prompt list maybe?#also when I started writing I was not planning it to go here #but here is where it ended up and I am quite content #sorry I went with the fade to black #but Constitutional Law does not exactly inspire 'the mood'#also I'm not good at smut #I've only ever written it once and it was an accident #shit...you made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard and he's not even really a character #...or I made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard?#I dunno I just know I love him and I hate it

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absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

Sugartits {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Derogatory language, crude nicknames, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, vampirism, blood drinking

Comments: You enjoy verbally bating Max Phillips until one day he’s had enough it. Pulling you into his office to teach you a lesson.

A/N: Just a little something because we were wanting our favorite vampire bastard.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Man, I don’t know. Since we know Max is a vampire, do you really want to make him angry?” You roll your eyes at the worried tone in Evan’s voice, quickly learning that the man was a straight up coward. Opening your lunch container, you smile down at the food your husband has made for you today. The man loves spoiling you and since you had come to work here, everyone was interested in finding out if he was a professional chef since he makes you elaborate meals. Today was homemade sushi rolls, apparently he thought you needed a little more omega-3 in your diet, along with a fresh kani and seaweed salad.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Time looks over at you, eyebrow raised as he shoves his hand back in his chip bag, stolen from Evan. “You seem to enjoy his threats.” He holds out a chip. “And when do we get food from this mysterious husband of yours? I’ll pay you in chips.” He offers. “Well, Evan will pay you in chips. Can you buy her some chips?” He asks his friend.

Shrugging, you unroll your chopsticks from their cloth napkin and open the small containers with wasabi and soy sauce. “I don’t know. He’s not bad. And, no, I don’t want chips.” You smirk when he pouts as you pick up one of the beautifully created rolls. “My husband makes my lunch because he loves me.”

Max hears your comment as he strides into the kitchen, and he grins. “Well it’s obvious your husband is well trained. Sushi today?” He asks as he walks over to the table and looks down at the selection of food. “Looks like your husband fucking worships you. Where did you meet him? The blind association?” Max chuckles, crossing his arms as he stands up straight.

You snort and shake your head. “Eyes are up here, Phillips.” You tell him as you draw his attention up to your face. “Not my tits.” You give a smirk, “at least I have a husband, I can’t imagine the person who could put up your smarmy ass. The hair pomade you wear would detract anyone with a working olfactory sense.”

Max snorts, "well you don't exactly smell like a peach yourself, sugartits. Have you ever heard of perfume? Or is that Victoria Secret body mist leftover from high school enough for you? I guess hubby isn't treating you to expensive perfumes." His eyes drop back down to your tits, eying them from above.

“He treats me right where it counts.” You defend, picking up another piece of sushi and taking a bite. “I don’t need to smell like a Parisian runway when I’m in this dump.” You look around and stare pointedly at the ceiling tile that was about to fall down on some unsuspecting sap's head the next time someone slapped the microwave door. “Weren’t you supposed to contact maintenance about fixing that?”

Max scoffs, “not my division, sweetheart. Someone else needs to report that. Now…” His eyes dip back down to your tits, and you snap your fingers.

“Phillips. Phillips. My eyes are up here.” You remind him and he pouts.

“Sugartits…I can stare all I want.” He smirks and you scoff.

“Not if you want a complaint to HR…perv.” You challenge and he frowns, “you wouldn’t do that to your favorite boss, now would you?” He pouts once more.

“Favorite boss?” You scoff and shake your head. “Not even close, you're more in line with the creepy janitor, Jerry.” You grin up at him. “You aren’t even close to my favorite boss, I’d have to like you in order for that to be true.” You enjoy watching the way his face falls and his eyes narrow slightly. Evan coughs awkwardly at the other table and Tim snickers to himself as he chomps down on his chips, obviously enjoying the show.

Max's face falls before he smirks, crossing his arms. "I guess your least favorite boss will just have to give everyone an evaluation. Starting now. With you. Get in my office." He orders, spinning on his heels and announcing the evaluations as he stomps to his office.

“Damnit.” Tim hisses, crumpling his chip back and huffing. “Why’d you have to piss him off?” He demands with a petulant whine. “He’s gonna eat someone now.” You ignore that, staying right where you are and taking another bite of your sushi. Despite him saying right now, you are still eating your lunch and you know it will piss him off to wait.

Turning, you smirk at the others. “You aren’t scared, are you?”

Max rolls his sleeves up after shrugging off his jacket, and loosening his tie. "Fucking hell, she's gonna be the death of me." He mutters to himself, and he steps over to his door, swinging it open and calling your name. “Get the fuck in here!" He yells, wanting you to know he isn't playing games. He won't stand for this kind of disrespect.

You huff, rolling your eyes and standing. “Fuck.” You hiss. “Lunch ruined. I’m going to take my full thirty minutes after this.” You mutter to yourself as you close up your lunch and walk over to the fridge to put it away for now. “Time to go see what blood breath wants.” You tell them with a smirk and straighten your skirt before you sway your hips as you leisurely walk towards Max Phillips office.

Max leans against his desk when you saunter into his office. "Shut the door." He growls, crossing his arms.

"Yes sir." You reply mockingly as you shut and lock his door.

Once it's shut, Max drops his arms and surges forward, wrapping his arms around you. "Baby." He pouts, tilting his head to look at you, "you can't be treating me like that in front of my staff."

You huff, arching a brow at your husband. “Oh, and the comment about how I smell was okay?” You ask him with a teasing tone. “It helps balance the fact that they think you are going to eat them everyday.” You remind him. “Besides, I’m technically your staff too.” Your own arms come around him and you reach down and squeeze his ass playfully.

He huffs, "you and I know I only buy you expensive perfume. I could eat them at any point but you're the only one I want to eat." He waggles his eyebrows and his hands rub your arms. "I can't let them think that I am going soft. Let me eat you out to say sorry for being a prick."

“I don’t know who you think you are talking to, Phillips!” You shout out so you can be heard beyond the thin office door. Smirking while you grab his shoulders and start to push him down to his knees while you wink at him and lean against his desk to lift your skirt to reveal your lack of panties.

"You have absolutely no respect for me, do you?" Max shouts before his eyes roll back at the sight of your bare cunt. "I am going to have to write you up for insubordination!" He yells. "Fuck baby, let me lick this pussy. Fucking love this pussy." He murmurs between kisses to your thighs until he is surging forward to slide his tongue through your folds.

You squeal and let out a choking sound. “M-Mr. Phillips!” You gasp out, your pleasure making it sound like you are having a hard time breathing. You are, but not for the reason that everyone on the other side of that door might think. “I- I-” You bite your lip to keep from crying Max’s name out, knowing it would ruin the little game you are playing.

Max flicks his tongue over your clit before leaning away. "Cat got your tongue, sugartits? Now...are you going to cooperate and be a good girl for your boss?" He smirks, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking a little harder.

You let out a quiet whine, rolling your hips down and clutching the back of his head so you can pull him into your cunt. “You stop calling me sugartits!” Your whine sounds angry, thank God, and you lift your leg up onto his shoulder while he sucks on your clit like the expert pussy eater he is. Max loves eating you out and would spend all day doing it if he could.

He pulls back just enough to shout, "I will not tolerate this kind of backchat. I will need to punish you." He smirks as he looks up and whispers, "with my tongue," before sliding it into your dripping cunt. His nose nudges your clit and his hand slaps your ass until he squeezes the flesh.

“Ahhh!” Your cry would go perfectly with the slap on your ass and you will tell everyone later on that Max had physically pulled you over his lap and spanked you like a naughty child. Not like he hadn’t before, but this time it would not be in the confines of the bedroom you share. “Oh fuck baby.” You whisper, petting his hair and taking care not to muss it.

Max doesn't even respond, too busy trying to make you cum. He laps at your clit, sloppy and messy in his actions to try and get you to cum. He slaps your ass again, tilting your hips so he can get even deeper when he slides his tongue inside of you. Forever grateful that he doesn't need to breathe, he works you over with his tongue, desperate for you to cum.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry!” You cry out, clamping down on his tongue while you flood his mouth with your cum. Thighs shaking around his head and you slap your hand down on his desk while you throw your head back in pleasure.

After working you through your orgasm, Max stands up, unbuckling his belt, and he smirks, pointing to the corporate issued carpet. “On your knees and beg for my forgiveness.” He says loudly, pulling his hard cock out of his designer briefs.

You lift a brow and smirk at him while you trade positions with Max. Looking up at him while you sink down to your knees in front of him. “You’re enjoying this.” You murmur quietly, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his shaft. “I’m sorry Mr. Phillips.” You tell him before you lean in and wrap your lips around the sensitive head of his cock.

Tilting his head down to watch you take his cock into your mouth, Max bites his lip to smother his groan. “That’s it sweetheart. You’re gonna be a good girl from now on and not talk shit about your boss, huh?” He says, a slightly moan wavering his teasing tone.

You squeeze his shaft playfully and don’t pull off of him. Instead you take him deeper into your mouth and start pushing him down your throat, eager to see his own knees tremble. You wink up at hun when he hisses.

Max groans, trying to not thrust down your throat and hurt you. “Shit baby.” He hisses. “You think your mouth is so good, huh? Making - making everyone laugh. You think you’re funny. Well you’re not laughing now, are you?” He taunts. “You aren’t laughing now.” He repeats, cupping your chin where your saliva drips out of your mouth. “No one likes a smart mouth, sugar tits. You should be better behaved. Be respectful to your boss.” He lectures you while your mouth is full.

You huff around his cock and keep your mouth moving, knowing he’s taking advantage of the time that you can't speak. You swallow around him and are rewarded by his small gasp. Making your lips pull tight in a grin.

Max loves how good you are with your mouth but he wants to feel that tight cunt wrapped around his cock. He gently grabs the back of your neck to pull you off of his cock and he groans when you lick him one more time. “Bend over my desk and take your punishment.” He orders with a smirk.

“Physical violence, Mr. Phillips?“ You ask softly as he helps you up and you bend over, looking back at him. “Well, come punish me.” You taunt with a grin. “I said I was sorry!” You huff loudly in annoyance. “You can stop this at any time. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Oh I don’t think you have. You are influencing the others and I can’t have that. I can’t afford to have a negative Nancy in the ranks. You need to take your punishment and say sorry.” He growls, gripping his cock before pushing inside of your dripping cunt. “Seems like someone is excited by their punishment.” He smirks, smacking your ass.

You cry out again and shudder as your walls clamp down around his cock. “Shit, Max.” You whine quietly and turn your head, pressing your lips to his. His fangs poke out, excited like he always is when he’s inside you. “Is my baby hungry?” You coo quietly, knowing what he wants.

“You interrupted my lunch.” He pouts, loving when you tilt your head even more.

“Bite me.” You say louder, trying to act bratty but Max cuts you off by surging forward to sink his teeth into your neck. He gulps down your blood and sets a hard pace, thrusting deep and rocking into you.

Your strangled cry is loud, the sting of his teeth tearing into your flesh gives way to the sweet pleasure. Not many people know that having a vampire feed from you is actually nearly an orgasm in itself when they are drinking. “I- Oh god!”

Max chuckles, “not God. Max.” He says as he pulls back for a second, his face morphed when he dives back in to suck more of your blood. He knows how much to take and when you start to get dizzy, fucking into your squelching cunt. He smacks your ass again, loving how you clench around him.

You scream, a loud, blood curdling scream when you cum. Clamping down around him and soaking him while you sound like you are being murdered. You know everyone outside is terrified, thinking that Max is torturing you.

Max pulls his fangs out of you, a smirk on his lips. “That’s it. Take your fucking punishment.” He growls, grabbing your hips and rocking into you, his hips slamming against your ass. “You’re gonna be a good girl now.” He hisses with each thrust.

“Yes!” You practically whimper your answer but you know they can hear you. You lower your voice, panting into his ear. “Cum baby, fill me up.” You beg, wanting to feel him flood you with his useless seed.

He grunts, clenching his teeth, and he thrusts deep. A half dozen thrusts more and he is burying his cock inside of you, painting your walls with his useless seed. "Fuck." He pants, licking the wound he created on your neck. "Always so damn good to me, baby." He murmurs, nudging your jaw with his nose.

You hum, body fuzzy and warm with the pleasure that only he can give you. “Your sushi was good.” You compliment him. “I’m gonna go finish it after you finish reprimanding me.” You turn your head and kiss him softly. “I love you, Mr. Phillips.”

Max grins, happy to hear you liked the sushi. He loves making your meals, watching the cooking channel while you're asleep so he can plan your lunch and dinner. "I love you too, Mrs. Phillips. Are you going to be a good girl at work?" He teases, kissing your lips again.

“I’ll be a good girl.” You can’t help but tease him. “Or I can be a bad girl and you can punish me again.” Max chuckles and lifts his hand to prick his finger so he can heal your neck wounds. “Leave them.” You murmur softly. “Make them think you fed off me as a punishment.” You smirk. “They are afraid of becoming your afternoon snack.”

Chuckling, Max wipes his finger on his pants. "Good idea baby. Gotta make sure they are afraid. They taste so much better when they are afraid." He smirks and kisses your neck above the wound. "I was thinking Chicken Parmesan for dinner tonight?" He hums, pulling out of you, and grabbing some tissues to clean you up.

“You spoil me, Max.” You murmur softly, turning around and kissing his jaw while he cleans you up gently and tugs your skirt down over your hips.

"I just want you to have a year of amazing meals before I make you mine forever." He murmurs, tracing your jugular. He is going to miss your blood but he would rather have you for eternity once you are ready. You both agreed on a year of marriage before he turns you. "Go on, get out there and tell them you are scared of the big bad boss. This really works to scare them shitless into doing their work." He chuckles, "you are a fucking genius sugartits."

“I know I am.” You lean in for one more kiss, winking saucily at him before you pull away and plaster a wide-eyed expression of fear on your face. “Ready to reap the rewards of this little evaluation, Mr. Phillips?” You ask playfully .

He tucks his cock back into his pants, and fastens his belt, nodding at his wife. "Let's do it. But first-" He reaches out to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours. "Go on, put on a good show baby." He smacks your ass before he opens the door, hardening his face as he looks at you.

“I-I’ll get right b-back to work, Mr. Phillips.” You stammer as you stumble out of the office with that panic stricken look on your face, lurching out to find everyone in the office practically standing in front of the door. Tim’s eyes widen and Evan gets even paler than he normally is when they see the fang marks in your neck and the small trails of blood leaking from the wounds. “R-right now!”

Max bites his lip to smother his smirk, watching you stumble to the break room so you can settle back down to eat the sushi he made you. "Evan. You're next." He declares, loving the frightened look on the man's face. His beautiful wife is one in a million and he can't wait to make her his forever. "Don't keep me waiting." Max tuts, stepping back into his office and sitting down at his desk. Evan is practically shaking as he walks into his office and sits down. Yes, his sugartits is a genius.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips imagine #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips smut

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship.

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

“That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

It was the best decision he would ever make.

So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.

Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

Until it wasn’t.

Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

It makes Spencer sick.

His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

“There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

“Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

“Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

“Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

“You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

“Not exactly.”

The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

“Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

“There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

“The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

“Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

“I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

“Busy?”

JJ nods.

“Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

Of fucking course.

Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

“– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

“She’s not interested.”

The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

“What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

“What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

“I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

“Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

“Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

“M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

“I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

“Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

“Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

“What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

“You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

“Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

“Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

“You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

“Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

“Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

“God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

“M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

“Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

“Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

“Open.”

You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

“Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

“D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

“So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

“Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

“S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

“Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

“Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

“So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Spencer!”

“Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

“Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

“Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

“C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

“I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

“How many do you think you deserve?”

You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

“However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

Spencer returns your smile.

“Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

“T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

“Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

“You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds.

“Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips.

Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

“Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

“I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

“So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

“S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

“Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

“P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

“You okay, princess?”

You give a weak nod.

“M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

Spencer is the first to pull away.

“Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

“S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

“Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

“Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

“Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

“Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

“You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

“You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

“Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

“You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

“Only for you.”

A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

“We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

“Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

“Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

“Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Is that a no?”

“... Look up the number.”

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The pieces fall (Red Groom AU)

Basically i said to myself 'I need to finish this before i get too deep with the Animorphs stuff' and then realized this was the final chapter about halfway through lmao

TW: Death, blood, 'To The Pain' is retold in its entirety

Red Son was out of time.

He stalled as long as he could, bought as much time to drag the official ceremony on as possible But it was for naught. He heard the commotion outside, the demons shrieking in fear the booming voice that reminded him of the mercenary in Spider Queen's Employ, Spat the tea forced into his mouth in the Prince's face, and loudly cursed and raved, insisting not only that he did not consent to this, but also that this sham of a marriage would only last for the length of time it would take for his love to arrive.

His Noodle Boy would come for him, he'd crowed and bragged with all his might, and the Prince had insisted the futility of the hope, that his love was dead, and yet more lies, that he'd seen to it himself.

But he couldn't hide the fear behind his eyes and Red Son announced as much. He couldn't move with the cuffs restraining him, his hands throbbing in pain and a solid purple color from the restriction of blood flow, but he raged and rallied anyway, he was tempted to try and ruin the fine robes the servants had forced him into, to scorch them without a care to what injuries would be laid onto himself from it, but he didn't want to be in rags when his love crashed through the doors.

But then the ceremony was finished, despite his protests, and Red Son was out of time.

He struggled against the guards as they shuffled him through the halls, followed by the weak and fading demon king, but one final ditch plan formed in his head as the halls lit with flame and he was brought to the prince's rooms.

“I suppose I should apologize, demon king.” The frail creature turned to Red Son and he felt a strange sort of pity for the man. He seemed no longer aware of what year it was let alone the cruelty of his own offspring.

“What was that young fellow?”

“I'll have to be killing your son tonight, or I'll die instead. And you were probably a kind man before this curse destroyed your body and mind, so I felt I should tell you as much.” he placed a hand on the King's arm and he hummed absently as their paths diverged.

As then the door slammed shut behind him, and Red Son's last gambit had to be played. If he was fast and he burned hot enough he could do it. It would be a struggle to work around afterward, but if he could manage it and he had Xiaotian to help him work around it he could invent something to compensate by the end of the year.

Still, to cut ones own hands off to escape bindings and then murder their fiance was certainly going to be a challenge.

–

She saw him. For just a moment she saw the Macaque, the flash of dark fur, the curl of his tail, those six ears, those cruel amber eyes. She'd said what she'd been waiting to say for ten years, she held her head high and said the phrase that had kept her going for so long.

And he'd fled.

She'd parted form the group the second he'd left, racing through the corridors, breaking through doors, and following the faint sound of fading footsteps. Finally, Finally it was happening. Today was the day. The day she'd been waiting for for ten years. The day she finally walked up to the monster that ruined her life, the bastard that stole her father from her, the macaque that took everything from her before she was even a woman, and she finally made him pay.

She descended a staircase that lead deeper into the halls and a sharp pain pierced through her gut. Xiaojiao yelped and brought a hand to her side, she saw the dark fur for only a brief moment before she stumbled back, hand clasping over the- over the blade-

he'd thrown a knife at her and it had landed in side. She didn't think it pierced anything important, but she couldn't be sure. It felt like she'd been struck by lightning in one very small localized area. Warm blood quickly soaking through her shirt and staining her hand.

It wasn't that her legs weren't working anymore, but they refused to obey her as her back hit the wall and her knees turned to jelly. She slid until her bottom brushed the stairwell behind her.

Ten years.

And she was a sitting duck. The Macaque could kill her in one swipe of that wretched spiked staff of his and she'd die a failure.

“I'm sorry father-” she muttered softly to herself. “I tried.”

“Hang on, I recognize that sword.” The Macaque's smarmy voice broke through her thoughts. “You're that dragon girl aren't you?” He whistled lowly. “It's been what, ten years?” slowly she watched the monster approach. “Have you been tracing me your whole life?” He laughed, a cruel cold thing. “and right on the precipice of victory you die here, bleeding out from a stomach wound. Pathetic.” he leaned against a table, ready to host the banquet for the wedding that would never come now. “Honestly that's hilarious.”

her fist tightened over the handle in her stomach.

–

He needed to be quick, he only had a little time before the Prince came in to end him, and with his hands so useless already he would just need to stop the bleeding which would be a snap once he had his fire back.

But he needed something sharp first. His hands gave dull throbs of pain whenever he tried to force the sluggish digits to move but eventually through his rummaging through the nearby work desk he found a small silver dagger, likely the one the prince was planning on using to kill him later on. He'd have to brace the knife on something to get both of his hands and if he passed out in pain he was as good as dead.

Soon enough he pulled together a brace on the worktable, and went about steadying his left hand first, if he was quick he could pass it right through cleanly and-

“You know there's kind of a shortage on perfect hands, It'd be kind of a shame to waste such beauty as yours.” a voice cut through his thoughts.

A familiar voice. But a kindly one.

His heart leaped into his throat and he felt his face turn red as he turned to find Xiaotian, a little beaten up and still in his False Monkey King garb laying on the bedding as if this were any day back on his mountain. Red Son wondered just how long his love had been there, watching him plotting out and trying to carry out his own dismemberment, and Red Son hadn't noticed. It would have been embarrassing if he bothered to care.

But he didn't, he cared far more about seeing his beloved again and ignored the pain in his hands as he fell on top of Xiaotian in the bed, barely able to get his name out before Red Son was kissing him. The uncertainty that the prince had placed in his mind burning away in and instant as he felt Xiaotian move against him he was kissing him back, he wasn't angry or upset-

But he wasn't returning the embrace.

Red Son pulled himself away from that perfect mouth just long enough to smile and mumble a small teasing comment. “Is this your revenge for leaving you waiting? Must I beg just to get you to hold me?”

“Ah-” Xiaotian sounded pained, but when Red Son let up properly any trace of discomfort was gone. “No, it's just a bit complicated.” But there were other pressing matters.

“I just need a moment my love, no matter if I'd love nothing more than to run off with you, I wasn't able to stop the Prince from forcing things to fall in his way.” It was a rock in his gut to consider, especially how without the use of his hands he'd need to somehow pull a victory against a demon prince in his own mountain but-

“If we want to be together this farce of a marriage needs to be made defunct.”

“Well did you consent to it?” That gave him pause.

“Huh?”

“The marriage, did you give consent to it?”

“Of course not!” his temper flared for a moment only to be immediately quelled by the small adoring grin Xiaotian hadn't stopped looking at him with. “I spent the whole time rejecting the whole thing, loudly. Violently. Buying time for you to break the ceremony up, wonderful timing by the way Noodle Boy, I was just about to chop my own hands off if you hadn't noticed.”

“I did actually. Horrifying. But crafty.”

“But what does my consent have to do with it, that's not how demons work things out-”

“Maybe, but it means more when its demons marrying each other.” His gaze flickered to a place just over Red Son's shoulder. “Wouldn't you agree, your highness?”

a thin blade rested on Red Son's shoulder. “A mistake that shall never be repeated, 'Monkey King'” the Prince hissed, breath hot and far too close to Red Son's ear.

–

“Are- Are you still trying to fight?” Her knees felt like they were about to give in, and her hands were shaking, but she was able to pull the blade from her side and raise her sword again. “Wow you're obsessed!” The macaque crowed, before finally taking out his staff. “That's gonna get you into trouble some day.” he sent the head of the staff for her face, child's play, the flat of her sword hit it right before impact and pushed it to the side, one half of her hair was taken down from its updo, the stone cracked beside her head.

But her skull wasn't smashed in.

The Macaque pulled away and made another lunge. He was rusty. How long had it been since he'd actually fought anyone? She made the next jab skew to the other side, her hair now fully released from its former ties, the wall behind her now a pile of rubble.

It seemed the Macaque realized she wasn't an easy kill because he started to properly wield his staff again.

His form was sloppy. Strikingly easy to counter, even with the fact that she was stumbling forward, free hand buried in her clothes to try and stop the bleeding in her side as she fought.

She opened her mouth, and she wanted to say something witty, but she couldn't think of any words to say at all, her entire mind was turning to white noise, save the one thing she'd been carrying with her for a decade.

“Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

Her side gave another throb and she caught herself on a nearby table. The Macaque spurred forward to try and capitalize on the opening.

The bench below splintered into pieces and she forced him back a few steps. “Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

“I heard you the first time!” The macaque grunted as he swung forward again.

Child's play.

Somewhere along the line, she'd surpassed him.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You killed my father! Prepare to die!”

“Stop saying that!” The Macaque growled, he was getting flustered. Good.

He made another jab at her, this time when she parried her blade met flesh and struck a line across his cheek.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You Killed my father! Prepare to die!” She crowed, now she had him on the ropes, when she moved forward and struck he'd have to move back to not risk being hit again. She could corral him. Her blade landed again, this time along the Macaque's knuckles, and his staff clattered to the ground. The tip of the jade blade tore into his shoulder, right in the place her scar was.

She only ever told people the first part of how she would picture this to go. And sure it wasn't perfect, she didn't expect to nearly die right out the gate, but it didn't need to be.

It just needed this.

“Offer me money.” She pointed the blade to his nose. He was without a weapon and if he tried any tricks she could run him through before they were completed.

“Three mountains full, all yours.”

“Power too, offer that.”

“All that I have and more.”

She leaned back just a hair, not enough to give him any room to work, but just enough to gesture. “Offer me anything I want in the world.”

The Macaque seemed to know where this was going, and whether he had a backup plan in mind she didn't care. “Anything.” He made one last lunge forward to try and grab her.

A grip on a sleeve, a jerk forward, the warm blood dripping down her sword.

“I want my father back you son of a bitch.”

When the Macaque's body fell she didn't... feel much relief. A little, the release of tension of a confrontation, the knowledge that she hadn't wasted her life.

But no revelations, no great euphoria or deep happiness at finally avenging her family. Her side was still bleeding, and the scar on her shoulder was never going to fade.

She began to stumble forward through the pain. She'd lost Sandy some hallways back, and they'd left Xiaotian high and dry, she needed to find them or they'd never get out of this damned mountain.

–

“Now beloved, you may want to remove yourself from this charlatan before I'm forced to do something you'll regret.” Red Son glared over his shoulder at the prince, but he gazed impassively back at him, and flicked the tip of his ear. There was a small zing of pain and suddenly the side of his face was very warm. Xiaotian hissed through his teeth at the Prince, but Red Son did as asked.

Once again parting him from his love because he had no choice but to trust a liar to be telling the truth.

“I should have had your body tossed in the forest when I had you killed. I never liked Six Ears' machine.” The Prince huffs. “But nonetheless it'll be more rewarding to kill my husband's lover first and THEN my husband. And hey! I won't even need your parent's army beloved! The Monkey King will be dead and Flower Fruit Mountain ripe for the picking!” The Prince crowed. “So, Qi Xiaotian, to the death?”

“To the pain.” Xiaotian didn't even flinch. Despite the fact that Red Son had never heard of such a duel condition.

Apparently nor had the prince, “I'm not sure if I'm familiar with that one.”

“I'll explain, and I'll use small words so you can understand you slug faced warmongering buffoon.” The tone in his Xiaotian's voice was unlike anything Red Son had ever heard, even when he was still masquerading as the Monkey King. It was severe, cold, yet ruthless. The unrelenting force of a blizzard.

“That may be the first time in my life someone below my status has insulted me.” The Prince turned a very strange shade of violet.

“Well it won't be the last. 'To the pain' means that once I defeat you, which I will, first you lose your feet, just below the ankles.” Xiaotian held direct eye contact with the Prince and Red Son found himself unable to look away. “Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose-”

“Then my tongue I assume? I killed you too quickly the last time, an error I will not be repeating.” The Prince reared back with his sword and Red Son made a grab for the knife he'd had before, but when Xiaotian spoke up again the prince stopped.

“I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose Is your right eye, followed quickly by your left!”

“And then my ears I get the picture! Let's get on with it!” The Prince was losing his temper fast, Red Son needed to act quickly. He couldn't torch the prince and hope it would be enough to break his cuffs, but he could barely hold the knife he'd dived for let alone be able to wield it with any force.

“Wrong!” Xiaotian interrupted, his face still the picture of determined calm. “Your ears you keep! And I'll tell you why!” The Prince was stopped again, and Red Son figured if he could put enough weight into his grip he could probably disarm him on his own at the moment. And another wave of frustration washed over him at the realization that he certainly couldn't put enough weight into his grip.

“-So that every shriek of every child dismayed by your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every maiden that cries out 'Heavens above what is that THING' Will be heard oh-so perfectly, in your untouched ears.” He huffed a small laugh. “That is what 'to the pain' means, it means I leave you in Anguish. Alone in your head with naught but the screams you've long since deserved forever.”

There was a pause as the Prince processed the threat. “You're bluffing.”

“It's possible, worm.” Xiaotian responded. “I could be bluffing. It's conceivable you miserable odious mass.” 'Odious' what kind of vocabulary did his love learn while becoming the false Monkey King? “I could be lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But then again, would you like to take that chance?” slowly, as though he were in great pain, Xiaotian began to sit up, and from there stand. He lifted his staff from its position leaning against the bed frame, and pointed the end to the Prince's nose.

“Drop your sword.”

it clattered to the ground.

“Undo the cuffs on Red Son's wrists.” a quick spell and a gesture and the golden bands clattered to the ground. A fierce pain jolted through either of Red Son's hands as the blood was finally allowed to start traveling back through them.

“Have a seat.” The Prince stumbled into a chair and Xiaotian glanced over at him.

“Can you tie anything?” his fingers curled painfully but he could probably manage, so he nodded and only then noticed the coiled up rope beside Xiaotian's former resting place.

“When did you get that?”

“You never know when you need rope.” All the same he tied the prince up firmly, excepting on the wrists that he tied to the armrests of the chair, those he tied as tightly as possible.

See if he liked watching his hands turn purple.

Just about as Red Son was done restraining the prince the sound of approaching footsteps came near, and with a flash of green (well, green stained red) he recognized the Swordsman mercenary.

She looked around at the lot of them and then her gaze settled on Xiaotian. “Where's Sandy?”

“He took of with you!” Xiaotian countered.

��Yeah but then he said he'd double back!”

“Well-!” Xiaotian cut himself off with a surprised yelp as his body pitched to the side, Red Son of course was there to catch him.

“Quick on the draw Red Boy.” The Swordsman hummed “Was that just reflex?”

He didn't pay her any mind. “Xiaotian what happened are you alright?”

“I'll be fine.”

“He was mostly dead all day, his body's completely zapped of strength.” The Swordsman countered.

“You've been dead?!”

“Mostly dead!” Xiaotian corrected as if that made any difference.

“Ha!” The Prince cackled. “I knew you were bluffing!” The Swordsman had zero patience for him though as that was enough for her to press her sword to his nose. “I knew he was bluffing.” The Prince repeated far more sedate.

“Xiaojiao! Xiaojiao can you hear me?” a voice calling from the window broke up all the near forming arguments, and though ti took Red Son a little finagling to ensure he had a proper grip on Xiaotian despite his hands not wanting to grip much of anything right now, the three made their way to the window peeking out the side of the mountain only for Red Son to see the large mercenary waiting below with a small gaggle of horses.

“Ah! Xiaojiao! There you are! I was trying to make my way back to Xiaotian and I ended up in the Prince's stables! The poor things deserve to have better keepers I think! I figured I'd take four of them, since there would be four of us when we found the Red Prince.” Sandy's eyes flickered to Red Son. “Oh, Hello Red Prince!”

“Nice job Sandy!” the Swordsman (Xiaojiao apparently) cheered. “Think you can catch some projectiles?”

“Of course!”

the large mercenary (Sandy) positioned himself below the mountainside, ready to catch any and all of them, and Red Son could remember, vividly, just how adept he was at such physical performances.

“well, royalty first.” Xiaojiao turned to him and gestured. Which, whatever. Though his hands gave another painful throb, he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The air was cool as it whipped against him.

–

“You know, it's funny.”

“What is?”

“I killed the Six Eared Macaque and now... I'm not sure what else to do. I've been in the revenge business so long, I don't know if I have anything else of value to try out.”

“Would you like to try leading? I could use a captain I can trust back on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

Xiaojiao shrugged.

–

“Oh, well you don't wanna hear this. The end I suppose.”

“What? Why are you stopping if it's not the end?”

“Well you were very specific about not wanting to hear about the kissing stuff, I don't want to gross you out or anything little one.”

“Well... Maybe I... won't super mind... if it's the ending. But only because it's the ending!”

–

It took a week's travel for the four to enter truly safe territory. To come into the lands of Flower Fruit Mountain and be greeted by the armies of demon monkeys that Xiaotian called his people.

They were finally safe, and Red Son recalled that he'd promised himself to wait until such a time came before he allowed himself to drown again in the ardor of having his love back, but now that it came, he found he simply wasn't as deliriously giddy as he once was. The stresses that had mounted between Xiaotian's return and now had dampened the mood, though his hands no longer ached and strength had returned to Xiaotian's body, they'd both been through so much stress there simply wasn't the space in either of their heads to be anything but focused on reaching their destination.

Of course Red Son had curled up next to his love every night around the campfire the Swordsman- That Xiaojiao would light and tend to, but there was nothing but relief in his body, bone deep, weary relief.

But now they were safe, and Red Son simply couldn't muster up the energy. He should have been jittery and excited to be alone with his love, but honestly he'd just wanted to bathe and eat something beyond travel rations.

Then the dirt and sweat had been washed away and their bellies were full of fruit and what few savory dishes Xiaotian had taught his monkeys to make, and Sandy and Xiaojiao shared a sly grin before going to explore 'the guest bedrooms' in Xiaotian's iron palace behind the watercurtian, and he was alone with his love.

And he felt like he should do something, yet nothing was coming to mind. They were safe, Xiaotian was alive and right here, and they could finally be together in the open, and Red Son felt such a fool for the fact that he didn't know how to proceed.

Xiaotian scooted closer to him and placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging Red Son to the side until he was leaned up against him.

“Red Son.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through Red Son's chest.

“Xiaotian.” he responded simply.

He might not have known what to do, but Xiaotian it seemed did. He reached over to gently cup Red Son's face with a hand, and brought him close.

There have been more love stories on this earth than we have time to ever recount in their entirety, but every story has in it a kiss. A soft, loving kiss, a kiss of relief and thankfulness and passion as the hard part was finally over.

It has been said that in the upper echelons of these kisses, that the one shared between Red Son and Qi Xiaotian in that moment, blew them all out of the water.

Tomorrow would come, and Red Son would sent missive to his parents explaining the situation, and Xiaotian would prepare a message to be sent to his own fathers, and they'd spend the next few days bracing for impact.

But tonight was theirs.

And though struggles were certainly on their way, all in all, their lives were finally on the path to be together.

And to live happily ever after.

–

“-The end. Now I think you should be getting to sleep.”

“Okay....”

“Welp, get better soon little one. So long.”

“....Grandpa Sun?.... Maybe you could come over tomorrow too? I could teach you how to play my game?”

“Heh, As you wish.”

#Spicynoodleshipping #Red Groom AU #Monkie Kid #lmk #Qi Xiaotian #lmk Red Son #Long Xiaojiao #lmk Sandy #Princess Bride AU #lmk Six eared macaque #Yes I know Six Ears went out like a punk shut up thats how Count Rugen dies this is an AU #Vega writes stories too #I said to myself 'no animorphs until Princess Bride is done'#and then Princess Bride got pounded out immediately #....I should hold my fics hostage in my head like that more often talk about results lmao

22 notes · View notes

lavenderboneswrites · 3 years

Note

Can i request some Shizuo and Izaya getting out of the closet during highschool for pride month?

Love your blog btw

Here you go, I hope this okay and you enjoy, thank you for the request! I wanted to get this out before pride ended but you know what? Pride never ends. PRIDE IS ETERNAL. Happy pride everyone!!

Rocketman

Words: 3049

Tags: shizaya, pre-relationship, the boys have a chat about sexuality, asexual izaya, demi-sexual shizuo, pride babey, high school days

AO3

Shizuo rolls the tiny badge between his fingers.

He’d taken it from Izaya. Ripped it from his clothes during their most recent fight.

Shizuo had been so close to catching him too. His fingers had brushed at the rough strap of his bag, but before he could get a proper grip the flea was darting away. He had grabbed out desperately and the little pin had come away from Izaya.

It was a small rectangle, probably the size of a fingernail. Made of metal, the front was shiny with horizontal stripes, in colours black, grey, white, and purple. Shizuo didn’t understand the significance of it, Izaya was always wearing ugly ass accessories. Still, as he fiddled with the badge something itched at the back of Shizuo’s mind.

Something important.

He was sitting up on the school roof during a free period. It was empty up here, most aware that the fearsome Heiwajima Shizuo had claimed the rooftop as his territory. The only ones who ever came up the same time as Shizuo were Shinra, Kadota, and that annoying little insect that Shinra always insisted join them.

That’s only when he wasn’t skipping school to do who only knows what.

Shizuo stares down at the little pin in his hand, the wind blowing lightly through his hair as his thoughts pass by lazily.

It’s almost like a flag.

A harsh grating noise pulls Shizuo from his musing. It’s the sound of the rooftop door being dragged open, and as if his very thoughts had summoned the devil himself, out stepped Orihara Izaya.

“Oh,” copper eyes widen slightly, before narrowing in the familiar sneer Shizuo knew all too well. “You’re here.”

Red blinds his vision. Rage erupts in his blood like a volcano. Shizuo’s pupils are expanding, are going predator wide as eyes narrow in on their prey.

Izaya is talking quicker than Shizuo can think, “I think anyone would be here.”

The flea sighs, hands slipping into his pockets as he pouts.

Shizuo’s breathing hard through his nose, mind a haze of kill, kill, kill. He’s about to leap to his feet, about to let out his usual roar and lunge at the flea but his brain suddenly hits a wall.

The rooftop was his safe space. A place where he could come to find peace. It was also a neutral zone, a place where Izaya and Shizuo were forced to tolerate each other for the sake of their mutual friend.

Shinra wasn’t here though.

Shizuo blinked up from where he sat slumped against the fence. This was unknown territory for them. Never had they been up here together … unsupervised.

The strange situation makes his rage flounder slightly, dulls his usual instincts and he just glares up at the flea.

“Fuck off.”

Izaya scoffs at his less than welcoming words.

“Shizu-chan doesn’t own the roof,” he’s arguing back in a derisive tone. It does nothing to quell Shizuo’s rage.

He clenches his fists at his side, metal badge in his hand forgotten as he growls up at Izaya. “Fuck off, I was here first.”

Izaya only raises a brow at that, as if he can’t quite believe Shizuo’s immaturity.

He’s expecting a sarcastic remark, something about his lack of intelligence; Izaya did always love to call him stupid in the most roundabout way. Instead Izaya just lets out a sigh, as if he can’t be bothered arguing today.

Shizuo stiffens as he makes his way over to his own side of the roof. The pest doesn’t sit down next to Shizuo, no, he makes sure to put a distance of at least three meters between them.

Shizuo glares at him the entire time. He’s tensed for an attack, ready to catch one of those annoying as fuck knives flying his way, but none come.

“Relax … there’s enough space for the both of us beast.”

Shizuo feels his eye twitch at that familiar nickname, but Izaya’s tone for once is lacking the usual edge.

He knows if he attacks, the other will defend himself. Yet today Shizuo just can’t bring himself to be bothered. Least when Izaya is acting so docile for once. Well docile for him anyway.

They sit in silence, waiting for the lunch period when Shinra and Kadota will no doubt join them. Izaya’s tapping away on his phone, the noise is only half annoying as Shizuo stares up at the clouds passing by.

It would be nice to take a nap … but he’s not stupid enough to let his guard down completely. Knowing the flea he’d end up getting stabbed.

“Oi.”

Shizuo’s doesn’t bother to look at the flea as his voice comes out gruff.

Izaya doesn’t answer, just keeps tap-tap-tapping and Shizuo has to do that stupid counting thing he was taught to keep his temper at bay. It rarely ever works though.

“Oi bastard,” Shizuo growls a bit louder, eventually turning his head to send a glare Izaya’s way.

Izaya doesn’t look at him. Instead he leans his head back against the fence, as if searching the sky for patience.

“What?”

Izaya really had no right sounding so annoyed. He was the one who was annoying. Always jumping around like a pest, getting Shizuo into fights, plotting and manipulating and just being a general, all-around nuisance.

“You in a bad mood or something?” Shizuo needles and Izaya can’t stop the chuckle that escapes his lips.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Izaya’s eyes are coming down to meet Shizuo’s, red gaze alight with a hint of amusement. “Shizu-chan is in a bad mood 24/7.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Shizuo snaps.

“… I’m guessing mine, right?”

There’s no remorse in his voice, only sarcastic mocking that grates on Shizuo’s ears.

He grinds his teeth together at the annoying noise. Shizuo clenches fists harder, ready to throw a punch when he’s suddenly reminded of the item in his palm as it presses into his skin.

“You piss me off”, Izaya lowers his voice, doing his best Shizuo impression before his voice returns to the usual lilt. “Really Shizu-chan, who did you blame your temper on before you met me?”

Izaya flashes a crooked smile his way, like Shizuo should be grateful he has the flea around to take his anger out on.

Bullshit.

Without another word Shizuo slides the badge in his hand less than gently across the concrete to Izaya’s side of the roof.

There. Now that odd knotting feeling in his stomach can go away.

“What’s this?” Izaya asks curiously.

He leans over and reaches out, fingertips only just grazing the badge. He’s forced to shuffle over on his knees, the action bringing him a little closer to Shizuo as he picks up the shiny metal object.

“It’s yours, right?”

Izaya doesn’t respond. He’s looking down at the pin his hand, brow furrowed in a look Shizuo has never seen on him.

Can’t believe I got him to finally shut up.

“Why …,” Izaya finally breaks his silence. Really, thinking he’d shut the flea up forever would be too good to be true.

Izaya doesn’t meet his eyes, still staring at his hand as if the little badge could give him answers.

Why would you give this back? Why would you do this? Those were the questions that seemed to be crossing Izaya’s features.

“Why do you have this?”

Shizuo can’t help but blink at that, it wasn’t a question he had been expecting.

“I got it yesterday. During …,” he trails off lamely, resolutely looking out at the open rooftop and not at Izaya’s inquisitive eyes.

Izaya doesn’t respond, instead he picks up the badge by the back end, rolling the pin between his index finger and thumb to make the little flag swirl around.

“What is it?”

Shizuo can’t help but be curious. He knows he’s seen those flags around before, maybe not the exact same colours but there’s definitely been a lot of flags randomly around lately.

Izaya makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. Shizuo can’t decide if he’s annoyed at the question or insulting Shizuo.

“It’s a pride flag, duh.”

Shizuo couldn’t help roll his eyes at the immature response.

“Obviously,” he deadpans back.

There’s an awkward silence, which Izaya doesn’t bother to fill for once. Instead he plants his feet on the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest to lean his crossed arms on them.

Shizuo shifts, unknowingly decreasing the distance between them.

“Which flag?”

Izaya’s only a meter from him now, close enough that when he sends a glare Shizuo’s way he can almost see the individual speckles of red in his eyes.

“Why do you care?”

His tone is defensive and Shizuo wants to roll his eyes again.

“I don’t,” Shizuo wants no confusion here on where he and the flea stand. He continues on, his words going rough and mumbled as he almost doesn’t want to say them. “I was just curious is all.”

Izaya’s brow has turned to a frown, and he’s got this look on his face like he’s actually suspicious of Shizuo; like he can’t quite figure out his intentions. Shizuo had stated them clearly enough, it wasn’t his fault Izaya thought all words had to have meaning upon riddles upon bullshit.

What a fucking headache.

“It’s the ace flag.”

Izaya is purposely not meeting Shizuo’s gaze when the words slip out of him. He’s staring off to the side once again, as if he doesn’t want to give Shizuo a chance to see some unknown thing in his face.

“Ace, huh?”

“Mm.”

Silence falls again, this time a little less awkward from Shizuo’s side. He can practically feel the invisible walls Izaya’s got up around himself though.

“Which one is that again?”

A little chuckle comes to Izaya’s lips and he shoots a coy look to the blonde.

“The asexual pride flag, if you must know.”

Izaya’s got the smallest of grins on his face. It’s not like the usual smarmy smirks he often throws Shizuo’s way. No, this look is softer somehow, as if he’s almost unsure.

Shizuo just raises an eyebrow at his words, as if saying ‘you expect me to know what that means?’

Izaya sniggers at the look before continuing. “Asexual meaning I don’t feel sexual attraction for anyone.”

Shizuo nods along, as if he knew what it had meant the entire time.

Honestly he’d never really thought about. Thinking about your mortal enemies sexual preferences would be just … weird. No matter what Izaya liked, Shizuo really didn’t give a flying crap, as long as he got to beat the shit out of the louse nothing else mattered.

Shizuo tries to remember all of the different flags he had seen lately, he really could only recognise the gay pride flag … all the others he was a little lost at. And really, there seemed to be so many that he couldn’t be bothered learning what they all meant anyway. He really didn’t care what other people wanted to do as long as it didn’t inconvenience him.

“So you’ve never…,” Shizuo opens his mouth without thinking. “You’ve never felt that way … ever?”

Izaya doesn’t seem offended by the extremely personal question. Rather his eyes crinkle at the corners, almost sparkling with amusement.

“Why, does Shizu-chan feel that way about me?”

“Pfft,” Shizuo can’t help but scoff at the sarcastic jab. “As if flea … you’re trash, who would ever be attracted to trash?”

“Glad to know the thought disgusts us both,” he says it more to himself than anything.

“Does that mean you don’t want to … that you don’t ever…,” Shizuo’s face scrunches up, why the fuck is he asking all this?

“What? Have sex? Jack off?”

Shizuo puts his head into his hand and groans at Izaya’s complete lack of shame.

“What the fuck is wrong with you flea?” Shizuo asks into his palm. His only answer is high pitched laughter.

He rubs at his face, finally removing his hand to throw a glare Izaya’s way. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“Hmm, shame and guilt are such interesting concepts don’t you think though? Humans creating standards for themselves depending on whether something they do makes them feel bad, or whether something they do makes others feel bad, which just in turn makes them feel bad too I guess.”

“…huh?”

Shizuo has no idea what the fuck the flea is saying anymore. Twisted little weirdo.

Izaya’s laugh is way too mocking, Shizuo’s going to punch him if he doesn’t stop.

“Well, what happens when that person doesn’t feel bad, no matter what they do?”

Shizuo can’t help but narrow his eyes in a suspicious frown, “…are you fucking with me right now?”

Izaya just giggles again, sounding way too fucking self-satisfied and Shizuo can feel the vein in his temple throbbing in time with that annoying high pitched laugh.

The flea’s chuckling finally settles down a bit, his breath coming out soft before he continues.

“I think Shizu-chan is confusing sexual attraction with libido,” Izaya starts, his parkour between topics making Shizuo’s head hurt slightly.

Can’t you just fucking speak plainly for once?

“There’s a difference?” Shizuo mumbles, hand going to the back of his neck. This should be awkward as hell, embarrassing, mortifying … but Shizuo is surprisingly feeling kind of okay with the conversation … somehow?

“Mm,” Izaya gives a nod and Shizuo notices how he shuffles a little closer. “Think of it like skiing Shizu-chan, you’ve been skiing right?”

“Snowboarding,” Shizuo grumbles. It’s not like his parents had the money to go to a mountain resort every winter, like Izaya’s rich family probably did. However, their last school trip had been a ski trip and despite a snowball fight turning incredibly violent and Shizuo almost causing an avalanche, it had been pretty fun.

“Well, some people like skiing, some like snowboarding, other’s like tobogganing and then there’s those who’d rather stay inside cozied up next to a warm fire. And who’s to say you can’t try more than one thing, or like a variety of either?”

Shizuo frowns, he can kind of follow along with this metaphor.

“So, say you’re a fan of skiing. That can mean you like certain type of skis, or maybe you avoid specific types, or maybe you just prefer to watching skiing from afar or even just on your tv.”

Izaya’s speech flows easy, as if talking was like breathing to him. There’s something almost comforting about it.

“In regards to asexuality, and you can probably apply this to all types of sexuality, but think of it more as a spectrum, an umbrella with varying types all fitting in under it. Some asexuals are don’t have sex, they may even be repulsed by it. Other’s might enjoy it, might experience sexual urges and activity seek it out. Then there might be some that don’t really care either way, they’ll enjoy sexual pleasure but they don't crave it or necessarily seek it out. Some might even just prefer to be by themselves, or focus their energies on other types of releases; like erotic fiction or watching porn.”

Shizuo lets it all sink in. It’s a lot to take, but it makes a surprisingly good amount of sense.

“So you can … it can feel good,” Shizuo purposely ignores the way his ears go red, “you can enjoy stuff like that … but still be asexual?”

There’s a pause, where Izaya tilts his head and observes Shizuo with an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny.

“Hmm, why so curious Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo just shrugs, he’s not entirely sure how to answer that question. Not entirely sure where this desire to discuss this all came from.

Shizuo almost startles as Izaya suddenly closes the distance between them. He crawls to Shizuo’s side, thigh almost touching his own as the flea mirrors his crossed leg position and it’s way too close.

“Here,” Izaya reaches out for Shizuo’s arm and can’t help but flinch slightly, as if expecting an attack.

Izaya just chuckles at the reaction, he holds his hands up for Shizuo to see, the only thing held in them is the little pin between his fingers.

“No tricks, I promise,” the little grin he speaks with and the mischief in his eyes tell a different story.

Frowning, wondering if he’s making a huge mistake, Shizuo’s hands over his arm to Izaya palm up.

“You know, just because someone doesn’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy sexual or romantic activities. One also doesn’t need to be sexually attracted to someone to find them aesthetically pleasing either.”

Izaya’s fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, hands blocking Shizuo’s view of exactly what he’s doing.

“Does Shizu-chan like watching horror movies?” Izaya changes subject way too easily and Shizuo is struggling to catch up.

“I don’t know, I guess?” Shizuo wouldn't say he’s the biggest fan of them but he’ll watch them occasionally.

“But you wouldn’t want to be in a horror movie, would you? Or maybe it depends on the kind of horror movie? Maybe if it’s a movie you feel a deep connection with perhaps?”

Shizuo stares at the side of Izaya’s face as he speaks, the flea’s smile going wry as his fingers click something into place.

“There,” Shizuo stares down at the cuff of his shirt, little coloured pin now attached.

Izaya’s voice is firm as he admires his handywork, “until Shizu-chan figures it out, why don’t you hold onto this?”

Shizuo feels his ears burn. His heart skips a beat and he suddenly feels parched. Is he dying? Is he having a heart attack? Why does he feel so warm all of a sudden?

It can’t have anything to do with the heat radiating next to him. The feel of Izaya’s thigh against him and a warm hand cradling his wrist.

As quick as the strange feeling comes it immediately vanishes as Izaya stands up. The door is scraping again, Izaya walking towards the two new arrivals with a casual wave.

Shizuo is left behind in his wake.

#i listened to a lot of elton john while writing this #this is honestly so sweet #they are so cute #finally managed to have an actual conversation #babies #Shizuo: izaya i hate you and hope you die BUT YOU ARE VALID #shizaya #writing prompts #writing request #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #durarara #drrr

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

Could'st we get some English major Valdo and performing arts major Jaskier? Por favor? 💖🥺💖

Comfy!! Of course you can my darling. 🥰

Rated E

CW: public sex, butt plugs, anal sex, top Jaskier, with a side of humiliation.

Jaskier wanted to tear his hair out. The whole fucking play had been his idea. He’d been spitballing ideas with Pris and Essi on the green outside the canteen on a free period, and he’d come up with a rather marvelous idea: a valiant battle between monster slayers and monsters, an undertone of what really made a monster, a side helping of tragic backstory for the lonely yet incredible handsome protagonist, and, of course, a gay as fuck romance story. It was fucking fantastic, and Essi had helped him act it out on the grass. They’d just been messing about, but he hadn’t noticed the spy lurking by the trees.

Valdo fucking Marx.

An unreasonably attractive, yet equally annoying, English major who had a habit of stealing Jaskier’s very best ideas. Well, not a habit exactly, this was the first time it had happened, but the bastard was getting all the credit! Not to mention that he’d taken out the gay as fuck romance and replaced it with something so drearily heteronormative. Jaskier didn’t have a problem with Yennefer, the lead actress, but he’d really been hoping that he’d be able to swindle a smooch with his long term crush and fellow thespian, Geralt Rivia.

The man was completely dreamy; tall, brooding and built like a house. There weren’t many men that were taller than Jaskier, and certainly not many who could throw him around like Geralt could. Jaskier was completely smitten.

But no.

Valdo just had to steal his idea and sell it to the theatre studies teacher before Jaskier could pitch it. He’d taken something utterly brilliant and made it unremarkable. It was pandering to the masses, taking out the gay romance to make it less ‘controversial’. It was bullshit, absolute fucking bullshit.

Jaskier sighed, tugging at his costume. It was itchy and cheap as fuck, instead of the fancy silk the bard character would definitely prefer. Dandelion was a nobleman, a bard, a poet, a troubadour. Dandelion wasn’t limited by the college costume department. It was devastating. Jaskier’s whole vision was falling apart. Even the witcher’s armour was scrappy and ill-fitting. Poor Gerald wouldn’t be able to fight a dog let alone a wyvern. Of course, for the next three scenes, Gerald would be off having adventures without Dandelion, because Valdo fucking Marx had butchered his script. It was supposed to be him and Geralt, sorry, Dandelion and Gerald, for the whole play. The bastard English Major had known exactly what he was doing, the cockblocking little prick.

Fuck.

He really needed to get laid. It would wipe that smarmy look off of Valdo’s face, and Jaskier could go back to being the phenomenal actor that he was. He sighed again and peered out behind the curtain. Valdo was sitting in the auditorium watching the dress rehearsal, his bloody shirt barely done up, his long dark hair bunched up in a bun on the top of his head revealing the undercut on either side.

He was really unfairly hot.

Which gave Jaskier an idea. It was as stupid as it was ridiculous but he was horny and he wouldn’t be onstage for ages. Everyone else was on the stage or busy getting changed. He had at least fifteen minutes on his own… he’d have to be quick, but he was a master of seduction, even if it was his nemesis.

He waved Valdo down from the wings, delighting in the obnoxious way the English Major rolled his eyes. Jaskier was going to have so much fun taking him down a peg or too. He licked his lips, and ruffled his hair up a bit, going for a roguishly handsome look. His cock was already started to fill out at the thought of fucking his rival backstage where they could be interrupted at any moment. Maybe it would even be Geralt… and Geralt would join in…

Shit. No.

Focus.

“What is it, Julian?” Valdo sneered, but he didn’t have time to say anything else before Jaskier had him pinned up against the wall.

“You stole my play, Marx,” Jaskier murmured in his ear, pressing their bodies together so that Valdo would be able to feel his erection.

Valdo scoffed. “And you get off on plagiarism now?”

“I get off on wanting to fuck someone that I hate,” Jaskier growled, running his nose under Valdo’s jaw, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. “If you’re down? We won’t have long though?”

“What?! Now?”

“Shhh, quiet. Yes, now. Problem?”

Valdo smirked, his smile almost sinister. Fire burned in his eyes as he licked his lips, his gaze taking in Jaskier’s appearance like a hungry dog. “No, no problem. Just unexpected.”

“Brilliant, turn around,” Jaskier snapped, releasing Valdo just enough so he could spin the English Major so that his chest was pressed against the wall. He ignored the protests of the man beneath him, “and be quiet.”

“Bastard, Pankratz,” Valdo hissed. “You better make this good.”

“That’s not being quiet,” Jaskier growled in Valdo’s ear, fishing a condom from the other man’s pocket. “how predictable, do you have lube too?”

“Other side,” Valdo grumbled, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers. He took his cock in hand whilst Jaskier fiddled with the condom and searched for the packet of lube, grinning when he found it.

Jaskier was about to slick up his fingers when he noticed the pretty green plug stuff into Valdo’s hole. “Oh you little whore, how often do you wear this?”

“I thought we didn’t have much time, shut up and fuck me, Julian.

Kissing Valdo’s neck, Jaskier worked the plug free. It came loose in no time, lube glistening around the ring of muscle. Valdo moaned quietly as he tried to muffle the sound, biting against his own hand. “How long have you wanted me, Valdo?” Jaskier purred his rival’s name in his ear, sultry and low.

They both groaned as Jaskier pushed inside. Even with the plug, Valdo was tight around his cock, and it felt completely divine. The thrill of people so near to other people was intoxicating, lighting a fire at Jaskier’s core. He could hear the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer running through their lines on the stage, some stupid argument that hadn’t been in Jaskier’s original plan. Of course, Jennefer had been Gerald’s best friend and confident in Jaskier’s version, and Dandelion was the love interest.

He fucking hated Valdo Marx.

“Why did you change it, Marx?” he hissed through gritted teeth, nipping at Valdo’s earlobe. “It was perfect, it was mine.”

“It would never have been allowed,” Valdo gasped, half moaning as Jaskier pounded into him at a relentless pace, one hand wrapped around his rival’s cock. “The idea was too good to waste.”

Jaskier grunted as he bit down on the tender skin of Valdo’s neck. He hadn’t realised he was this wound up but he was close already, his mind a foggy haze of arousal. Geralt and Yennefer’s voices sent shivers down his spine. They were so close, only a curtain’s width away, and that was so fucking hot. He never thought he would fuck Valdo Marx, the infuriating bastard, but like this, not even able to see his face as he used him for his own pleasure...

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned, losing any witty retort he might have had. His only thought was for his own release, movements getting erratic. Jaskier barely bit back a moan as he grew ever closer to cumming deep inside his rival.

His hips bucked forward, pinning Valdo against the wall. The angle must have changed because the obscene moan that Valdo let out was absolutely sinful. Jaskier barely managed to stop his thrusts, both men freezing as they struggled to keep their breaths. Panicking, Jaskier threw his hand across Valdo’s lips.

“Careful, you whore,” he hissed.

“Oh like you didn’t want that to happen,” Valdo spat back, pushing back onto Jaskier’s cock and guiding Jaskier’s hand on his cock. “You wanted me, Julian, not the other way round.”

“Shut up!” Jaskier whispered, pressing them closer to the wall, unable to stop himself from rocking into Valdo.

The play hadn’t stopped. Geralt and Yennefer were still verbally sparring, with the occasional interruption from their director. They’d gotten away with it. Jaskier let out a shaky breath and continued his movements. The pleasure began to build again, quicker than before and it didn’t take long for sparks to fly as he felt the all too familiar twist at his core. He bit his lip as he came, burying his face into Valdo’s shoulder. Valdo whimpered and gasped alone a few moments later, spilling over his hand.

Jaskier pulled out in a hurry, wrapping up the condom and tossing it in a nearby bin as he pulled up his trousers. He was pleased to see Valdo still panting against the wall as he tried to regain his composure. Jaskier chuckled, swatting Valdo’s arse as he went past. The forgotten butt plug was lying on the ground next to the wall so Jaskier picked it up. He pressed it into Valdo’s hand. “I think this is yours.”

“Fuck you, Julian,” Valdo stammered.

“Maybe next time, Marx, I have a play to finish.”

#the witcher #valskier #valdskier #valdo marx #jaskier pankratz #valdo x jaskier #wolfie’s witcher writing

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fantastic-rambles · 3 years

Text

Random Sk8 Thoughts: Episode 12

So, the end. I’ll get back to my other fandoms after I settle down, lol. My ideas are still a little scattered here, because I’ve got one more thing to do before I go to sleep, and it’s already 3 am somehow. xD

Just to start off, I loved the last episode. There were parts that were really cliche/feel-good, it felt rushed, and the ultimate solution was a bit facile, but overall, I enjoyed it.

Starting from the opening scene: absolutely fantastic. Adam’s still crushed from his race against Reki (which I’ve already expressed skepticism about, but whatever), and skating recklessly in the rain. I definitely got a sense of his frustration and desperation, and it seemed like he realized that Langa wouldn’t end up following him, as he chose not to get a wedding suit made, but rather a funereal/grim reaper suit. Some of his delusions have started to fall away, and yet, he’s not willing to let Langa go just yet, either.

So he chooses to hold the race on the most dangerous course, where the slightest mistake could mean death. It’s the ultimate test of “Eve,” and a chance to pique Langa’s love of challenges. He wants to try to pull Langa into his world one last time with the thrill of danger and the high level of difficulty and show him that they’re the only ones who can truly understand each other and keep up with each other, to see the perfect world of “Eden” where they are free of all earthly attachments. In a way, I think he’s trying to commit a “lover’s suicide” (non-romantic >.> ) with Langa, to depart together (their “day of departure” from everyone who is “hindering” them) from the mundane world where they’re restricted by expectations and worries and other people (or at least Adam is, lol).

So Adam’s whole thing is pushing Langa to his limits to bring him to “Eden,” and Langa keeps up with all his antics with ease, until they finally do reach the world of just the two of them. But “Eve” has already tasted of the fruit of wisdom (Reki teaching Langa that skating is fun), so Langa knows there is far more to skating than just that, and he shares that with Adam, who is confirmed to be in a “state of innocence”/like a child and is afraid to step out of his carefully curated garden. So when Langa rejects him/his offer of “Paradise,” Adam rejects Langa in turn as he realizes that even Langa doesn’t understand how he feels and is going to leave him alone as well.

Except that Langa doesn’t leave him behind. He meets Adam head-on physically and ideologically, starting the process by which Adam can heal and mature past his previous traumas. Langa’s win is proof that his way of skating is better, but it also shows Adam that winning isn’t the end-all, be-all of success. He can still be loved, admired, and respected even if he loses (unlike the weird af conclusion of episode 11... yes, I’m still salty).

And then the final scene, where Reki and Langa are skating one last time at what seems to be a shut down “S”: it’s because Adam no longer needs his artificial garden and has been able to step out into the real world, a world filled with other people.

So I think that it’s apparent that he’s also beginning to shed the chains that his family has put upon him (and I believe that Tadashi will be able to more actively support him going forward to continue the process). And he’s still a Magnificent Bastard regardless, ducking the charges against him and orchestrating the whole political scandal to get himself ahead. No wonder he didn’t seem concerned at all, even though he claimed he was going to pin it on Tadashi. I love it. He’s redeemed, but he doesn’t compromise himself and become some shadow of his former self. He’s still as ridiculous as ever, jumping from helicopters and being a smarmy politician.

But the repair of the relationship between Adam and Tadashi... my heart. <3

As always, though, I do take issue with some elements. Primarily that it’s super rushed and a kinda unrealistic “shounen” ending. I love it, but we’re talking about a guy who has done rather unforgivable things, especially during his races with Cherry and Reki. But that was all just handwaved away when he remembered how fun skating is. Just like Reki’s make-up with Langa, this was just too simplified given how problematic Reki and Adam’s behavior was. I mean, I get it, it’s a lot of trauma and problems to unpack in the limited space of the show, but I’d rather that Adam earned his happy ending by starting to try to do things to make amends and beginning to regain people’s trust (especially Cherry’s and Joe’s). But maybe that’s just me, a drama queen who loves angst, lol.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #skate the infinity #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #ainosuke shindo #sk8 langa #sk8 snow #hasegawa langa #langa hasegawa #random thoughts #analysis #mine

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Lambs In Danger - Bragi x Reader

I’ve had this chapter in my pocket for a while now so I think I’m just gonna post it. Still not sure where this series is going, but as mentioned in previous chapters, I’m just having fun with Smarmy Fluffcoat.

~~~~~

“I’m back,” the red-head calls, jingling the bell as he enters the store.

“Welcome back,” I call before addressing the customer. “Sorry about that. Here’s your book.”

The patron is bid goodbye just as my boyfriend sidles up to the counter. “Hey there gorgeous,” he hums with that signature smirk. “How’s your day been?”

“Just fine,” I reply, walking around to re-shelve a few misplaced books. “There’ve been a few customers but it’s been mostly quiet so I’ve been practicing my spatial magic.”

“Yeah? You should just about be an expert by now.”

The drama in my sigh cannot be expressed enough. “I don’t know why I picked spatial magic to be my specialty. The texts are near impossible to find and all of the experts refuse to take an apprentice.”

“Guess I should count my lucky stars there,” he teases, only receiving an eye roll. “Oh come on. You don’t need a master. You’re already a Master Mage and you’ve gotten this far on your own. The pocket dimensions are pretty cool and just last week you shoved me down the stairs from across the room.”

The incident still haunts me: the smarmy bastard had poked the bear just one too many times and a hand waved at him without a thought. “Please stop bringing that up. I said I was sorry.”

If that expression is any indication of his intentions, it’s not going to stop any time soon. “Yeah, but you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Ugh…”

The chuckles of Smarmy Fluffcoat still play with my guts every time; there’s no doubt I’m still madly in love with him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t push buttons.

“Anyway, Master Odin wants to meet with you.”

I look back at the boy. “What does he want me for?”

Shoulders bounce. “I ‘unno. He just asked me to tell you.”

“I swear to the gods, if he tells me you’re causing trouble in class, you’re going to be grounded,” I laugh, final book in its place.

Warm hands capture my face, calloused thumbs brushing over the skin as the perpetrator leans in. The amber in his eyes glow with that sultry mischief he enjoys trapping me with. “Me? Cause trouble? Never.”

“Says the guy who shoved his classmate into my bag.”

“Shh. No one needs to know about that.” His voice drops to a whisper. He’s baiting me; he’s absolutely trying to bait me—and he’ll probably catch a bite.

“I know. You’re entire class knows.” Tongue following the conversation, my thoughts are one hundred percent focused on his lips only a miniscule movement away.

“Shh.”

Needless to say, kisses take over communication as I fall victim to the cinnamon-scented bait.

~~~~~

The next morning is spent wondering just when is the best time to venture to the citadel; worries of what the master would need me for consume the following afternoon. Come two o’clock, the shop closes down early and I wander my way through town.

Droves of students pass by me—all on their way to various after-school activities. It’s on my climb towards the faculty offices that I hear my name. Familiar faces all await me at the top.

“Hey guys,” I greet.

“Hey! What’s up!” the blonde waves back.

“What are you doing here?” asks the second girl.

A simple laugh is offered. “Turns out I’ve been summoned. I think Bragi is in trouble.” There’s a glare at my quip.

A head of silver hair tilts. “The Master summoned you?” I nod. “Ooo, Bragi’s in trouble!”

“Does everyone remember the bag incident?” our victim asks, gesturing towards the satchel at my hip. There are murmurs of agreement.

“I told you they knew.”

“I know they know—it was a threat.”

Replies vary from offence to taunts until I’m forced to intervene, dragging my boyfriend away while he waves his middle fingers at Urd and Xehanort. There’s some apologizing and chastising as we go until we reach Master Odin’s office.

“Want me to go with you?” Bragi offers.

Knuckles rap against the door. “I’ll be alright. I don’t know how long this will take so I’ll just meet you at the shop later.”

“You sure?”

I can hear the resident beckon me inside. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

A brief kiss on the cheek bids me goodbye and we part ways. This is when I learn of the reason Master Odin summoned me—it’s kind of upsetting. I question his decision in choosing me, barely holding my tongue long enough to reword the derision bubbling in my brain. None of this sits well with me; the Master seems to understand that and implores me to accept. Seeing as thing could be disastrous if I don’t, I do.

The agitation rolls in my chest as I descend the steps. What the hell are they thinking?! It doesn’t matter if I’m a Master Mage! They-

“Yo, babe, you in there?” Out of reaction, I slap away the hand in front of my face. My thoughts had taken over, leaving my body to autopilot out to the castle grounds.

Hermod—ever the big brother—leans closer. “You okay? You looked upset?”

Eyes scan across the young faces before me. Their light to be put at so much risk stokes the fire boiling my blood. As the ‘master’ in a professional situation among these kids, I wipe the surface clear of turbulence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about a book order I need to work on.” My decision is just as terrible as Master Odin’s, but at least mine is to preserve peace—leading the blind lambs has never been a desire of mine though.

The rabble of Odin’s pupils manages to distract me for a while, but the content of my disagreement with the master keeps dragging up how much of an outsider I am. Not only am I not a student of the master, but I don’t even wield a keyblade. Mage students aren’t common in Scala Ad Caelum so I was an outcast from the start. My status above them only serves to widen that gap, not to mention the alienation my choice has placed on me. Efforts have always been made to include me in their shenanigans and, while I will likely never be part of the group the same way Bragi is, I always appreciated their kindness. Yet here I am, withholding information that will endanger their very lives because of “grown-up business.” Scum on the bottom of their shoes is what I am.

“We’ll catch you guys later.”

Bragi’s words cut through another stroll through my thoughts. The path that breaks off towards my shop is just to the right. There’s just enough sense left in me to tell the others I’d see them later, receiving some funny looks, before they walk away. That’s when my partner begins prodding at me.

“Alright you. Spill it.” His first few steps start the trek home.

“Huh?”

“You can’t hide it from me. Hell, you can barely hide it from Eraqus. What’s bothering you?” Gods, he’s right. Even at my best, hiding secrets from Bragi is just impossible for me. “What did Master Odin want?” An idiot, Bragi is not.

Suppressing information from the others can barely be excused, but hiding things from my significant other—especially information such as this—feels like a sin. It smolders in my heart and threatens to suffocate me in the smoky guilt. I can fool myself all I want that it’s for the better, but his life is on the line and I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.

Shoving a hand through my hair, I mutter, “He’s going to start preparing you to go off-world. He asked me to accompany you.”

The boy stops in his tracks. “What?”

That guilt billows stronger. “The upperclassmen are missing. He’s sending us to find them.”

The understanding washing over him is visible, turning into fierce objection. “No. Nu uh. You are not coming with us!”

My brows furrow; that’s not the reaction I was expecting from him. Excitement, veiled worry, anger at not being told by his master, maybe even enthusiasm at my presence—those were the things I expected, but his protest is that I’m going with them.

“What?”

“You’re not coming,” he repeats.

I don’t know what it is in me that reacts to this, but it’s insulted. “That’s not really for you to decide.”

Looking ready to fight me over this, he snarls, “No! You’re going back to the castle and telling Master Odin that you refuse.”

“Excuse me?! The last time I checked, I outrank you!” This retaliation further drives home the point that there’s a gap between us. “So I don’t know what silly little delusion you have that makes you think you can boss me around, but you don’t own me! I make my own decisions!”

The combativeness shines in his eyes. “The last time you went on a mission, you disappeared for a month and came back a complete wreck! It took weeks for you to stop having nightmares!”

“So what!”

“So what?! It took me all night to convince myself you’d be okay long enough for me to go to school the next morning! And then I spent all day worrying you were having a meltdown while I wasn’t there!”

“This is part of my job! And I’m not going to let a few bad dreams keep me from protecting the person I care about!” Interrupting his argument, I add on, “Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” The boy scowls. “Go on! Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter what I would do! You’re not going!”

“Try and stop me!” His teeth bare. “If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going home!”

My boyfriend just stands there, glaring at me.

Say something! Say something, you idiot! Yell at me more, grab me, do something! Anything! Don’t let it end like this!

I can’t blame him for not stopping me and I'm ashamed to say that I walked away at that point.

Slamming the door behind me, I lean against it, my weakness finally slipping through my eyelids.

#bragi #khdr bragi #kh bragi #bragi x reader #smarmy fluffcoat #smarmy nonsense #gender neutral reader

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tfw-no-tennis · 4 years

Text

hxh....MUSICAL

as soon as i saw that a hunter x hunter musical from the year 2002 starring the OG 99 VAs existed, i knew i has to see this...so i set out and watched the nightmare of zoldyck (i would later find out that theres ANOTHER musical, which i plan to watch too)

luckily its all on youtube subbed! in 360 quality...oh hell yes lmao

ok i logically knew this was gonna be a musical but seeing the characters singing is like. a lot. THIS IS SO STRANGE

musical illumi is played by a woman which is interesting. shes got a good voice

i think they just panned to killua but it was so pixelated that i legitimately could not tell hvbadjkfbjkdsf

i have no idea whats going on vhbajdfhhajsdf theres a bunch of people falling over on stage...i think theyre dying? who are yall

oh shit backup dancers?

lmao illumi killed the backup dancers rip.

oh that IS killua lol. s/o to the 3 pixels that are visible

is this gonna be the zoldyck arc but a musical? lmao

OH WAIT IS THAT KURAPIKA AND LEORIO? i cant even tell lmaoooo

i can 100% tell these are fan subs lmaooo i love bad fan subs SO MUCH it makes a viewing experience even better

this is p much just a musical version of the manga/anime so far lmao i love it

the way theyre spelling zoldyck is. a lot

is every character gonna get an intro song. how much of this musical is singing and how much of it is dialogue cause theres defs a range w/musicals

lmao i love gon leorio and kurapikas interactions even here, they rlly feel like two parents being dragged around by their energetic kid

i cant even see the set at all so im just gonna assume theres like, the gate and all that behind them, but it all just looks like a dark wall to me lmao

i love singing exposition

HISOKAS IN THIS???????????????????? oh my lorddddd

OH i see now in the description that hes played by the 99 VA too lmao i love it

wow musical hisoka rlly b like [writes himself into the zoldyck family arc]

oh here we go w/the song introducing the zoldycks

damn grandpa got mad flips

this is. wild

its especially wild that alluka isnt here bc she like...didnt even exist yet at this point in the story

zoldyck family sitcom wow

i see the gon/killua romance is still going strong in the musical

oh so they did all the training and goin thru the door stuff offscreen lol

this is actually doing a pretty good job expanding on the canon stuff from this arc lol so props. espec w/showing more of killua being scared of illumi

oooh this is interesting actually, this is like....an AU where illumi is present during this arc, and how that would change things. And Also They Sing

the zoldycks are so fucked up lmao

also i feel like theres some ‘early adaptation’ character weirdness going on, like w/the grandpa, who seems much less intense here than in the anime (at least after seeing him in the yorknew arc), and milluki, who seems like a gag character here lmao

oh my god lmao is hisoka here to visit illumi?

the hilarious irony of illumi telling killua that assassins cant have friends, then going to hang out with his good buddy hisoka

kurapika is the only one here with a brain cell (for now)

ah yes hisoka and illumi doing their nasty murder flirting thing

HISOKA IS SO NASTYYYY I HATE HIM tho his actor is very good and smarmy

OH its canary!! is there uh. blackface goin on there. i cant actually tell, what with there being only 3 pixels present at any given time

really love how half of this is just the regular arc but with the characters singing abt stuff during it

the lady playing killuas mom has a rlly good screeching voice jesus lmao

ohh i love musical fighting so much

the sound fx on kurapikas sticks are cracking me up

butlers got mad cartwheels

oh theyre doing the coin thing! this is so out of order lmao

oh my god i love that theyre doing like, sick dance moves while coin flipping

ah the zoldyck messenger hawk makes an appearance. i love that thats canon and real

the 12 yr old gay romance is REAL even here

the subs seems to be translated very literally, especially in the songs, so its honestly not clear what theyre even singing about vbsjkdjhfskjfd

gon and killua singing about each other is adorable tbh. also i love how silva asks killua abt his friends and killua is like yeah i made some friends. and then only talks abt gon ahjsduhfabhskdf gayboy

ok so the zoldyck arc is like, ending, but theres still an hr of musical left so whats even gonna happen lmao. also where did hisoka go

oh no the audio and video arent synced anymore huvbhjadfbhjsakdf

oooh they asked canary to come w/them, thats cool

theyre having a party??? hvbajdsfbhasjkdf

oh shit??? what did zeburo just do to killua??? WHATS GOING ONNN lol this is UNCHARTED TERRITORY

OH GOD IT WAS ILLUMI. SHOULDVE KNOWNNN

omggg all their formal outfits....everyone cheering wildly at kurapika is cute

LEORIO AND KURAPIKA DANCING.....

the fact that both killua and gon are taller than kurapika in this is rlly funny

the idea that the zoldycks are also highly trained ballroom dancers is super hilarious to think about, even moreso when you consider how isolationist they are

seriously grandpas got mad flips

also i love leorios outfit

this feels like a filler arc tbh. and i dont mean that in a bad way!

leorio trying to get kurapika to go to the hot springs with him lmaoooo

HVDSJBJFSBFJHS HISOKAS BACK. IN DISGUISE. OH MY GOD

hisokas stage presence is fantastic gotta say

damnnnn dad zoldycks got mad flips too. guess it runs in the family

props to the actors for managing to keep their wigs on while flipping around like that

its so fuckgin funny thats hisoka just introduces himself as illumis friend, when this whole arc is all about how assassins Cannot Have Friends

so hisoka is just here trying to get family approval too huh

gon miming a fishing trip was adorable and realistic...sometimes u get skunked and It Just Be Like That

leorio is rlly tryin to shoot his shot w/kurapika and kp is just Not Realizing huh vbjsdufjbsaukjf

wow leorio breakin the fourth wall like that lmao

wow so illumi hacked killua. rude

hisoka and illumi are lowkey hilarious in this

leorio is rlly sending every signal possible to kurapika and kp is like. No

leorio: killua is a scary murder baby, but also im adopting him

kurapika singing abt how weird it is having friends after dedicating their life to Revenge(tm) is v on brand

HISOKA OH BOY

LMAOOOO HISOKA IS SUCH A FUCKING SNITCH I CANT

no wonder illumi didnt wanna tell him abt his evil plan lmaoooo he fucked up even telling hisoka that much clearly

the zoldyck siblings just staring at hisoka in confusion bc How The Fuck Did This Clown Get In Our House hvbhjdksfnjksdf

you can tell the subs are off when the audience is cracking up but you dont even see a joke there lmao

oh my goddd hisoka using bungee gum to make everyone dance is. hilarious

oh my god synchronized dancing

HVBSHDJFBJDSKFHBSJ illumi doing a dance routine independent of hisoka and hisoka being like ????? vhbjsdkhfjkjsdnfkj THIS IS HILARIOUS

supremely funny to me how illumi makes such a big point abt assassins not having friends, yet hisoka is announcing himself as illumis friend w/every given opportunity hvbhajdkdfhjskf

this feels so filler arc i love it. thats so charming to me since the 2011 anime doesnt have any filler (from what i can tell?)

kurapika and leorio rlly feel like killuas parents here lmaooo

this is all dramatic but kurapika keeps repeating what leorio says and its cracking me up hvbajhkdhfbjsk

i lov this fambly

ah, even in the musical illumi is still such a manipulative bastard

i feel like the quality just went down EVEN MORE, which i didnt think was even possible hvbhjkdsfskf. at least the audio is synced w/the video again

illumis got a good evil laugh

this is the exact brand of dramatic angsty filler content that i was hoping for in this lmao i love it

oooh more zoldycks

honestly this is more how i expected the zoldyck arc to go in canon hbshjdkujfkjsfdas

dramatic gay filler angst + somewhat incorrect fansubs = perfection

OH SHIT CANARY

BRO DID SHE JUST DIE???? OMFG

the subs keep calling illumis power ‘spells’ which seems to imply that illumi is some sort of assassin wizard rather than a nen user hvbsudhfkjsdjgf

come to think of it, what point was the manga at when this musical was written? it has to be pretty early on, maybe just as nen was being introduced

gon boutta go ham on illumi...Get His Ass

OHHHH GON DOING THE ICONIC ARM GRAB....ARM GRAB REPRISE

gon doin the good ole reliable shounen ‘punch your friend and yell at them so they snap out of a funk’ lol

i do love how typically shounen this is. friendship speeches! but delivered by SONG!

illumis main hobby is butting in at the worst possible moments

HISOKAS BACK OH BOY

hisokas playing card blocked killuas hit hvbhjakdhsfjnakdsf thats like in jojo when those manga blocked dios knives

wow the whole zoldyck squad is here

ooh forbidden zoldyck lore lmao

killua: mom u guys are lame im joining this much cooler family now. bye

i love how hisoka is just weirdly lurking around for all this zoldyck drama lmao

silva seems like such a bro in this but i feel like hes rlly not like that in canon vhauidfhbsjhdkjfk

oh nope there he goes w/the evil laugh lmaooooo

sorry dude but leorio is his dad now

gon sniffing zeburo hgbajkdfshbjkdfjnsjdk oh my god

oh hell yeah some synchronized main character finale dancing

actor showcase! everyone loves kurapika which, same

ah so the director of this musical also directed the sailor moon musicals, which i didnt know existed but of course that exists...thats funny considering the hxh mangaka is married to the sailor moon mangaka

anyways that was fun honestly!!!! i fuckgin love musicals, and musical adaptations of non-musical source materials can be like, SO different tonally, but this honestly felt like a fun filler

it was really interesting seeing something based on the canon from this early on - as i said above, some of the characterizations (like the zoldycks) seems a bit different than we’re used to, but others were spot on - like hisoka only showing up intermittently to sow chaos and do nothing else vhjkadhbfhkjdsfnj im assuming the yorknew arc hadnt happened at this point, but hisokas actions in this musical were hilariously similar to how he acted in the yorknew arc, so, props.

plus it was cool to see the ‘what if’ factor w/hisoka and illumi also being there, espec illumi interacting w/killua bc its so wildly different from how killua reacts to any of his other family members - hes clearly scared of illumi, in a way he isnt w/anyone else, and that was done well here w/the scene where illumi threatens killua’s friends to get killua to listen to him

also the angst was honestly great, and there was some REALLY sweet wholesome parts that i loved. and the music wasnt half bad either!!

i think the VAs did a great job playing the characters - hisokas VA was especially great (and i really loved kurapika too). gons hair was not very similar to how it looks in the show so it was a little more obvious that he was being played by a grown woman, but still a great performance.

anyways fun times, i love musicals and this was a fun ole 2000s filler shounen musical adaptation

#lj watches hxh #well. hxh ancillary material #also we're almost done w/the chimera ant arc but i still gotta edit up my heavens arena stuff hvbhjsdfbjdskgs epic fails #i have all my chimera ant liveblogs ready to go but i dont wanna post things outta order Ls #hxh

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years

Text

take my scars & make them stars - ch 5

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter Five

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

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Anna usually went to the coffee shop after treatments, but she decided to have a different routine that day. Surely, Kristoff wouldn’t mind if she popped in on a different day. If Anna was honest with herself, despite their constant messaging and videos…. she missed him. And she was having one of her bad days, so it’d be nice to see him. The need to see him seemed so silly since they’d just gone to the park a week prior, but Anna could never really get enough of him. She didn’t know a--whatever they had--could feel like this. She’d spent so much wasted time with Hans, but she’d never felt like this.

Never had she felt so cared for… Even from her own family. Sure, Elsa tried her best now. And it wasn’t her fault she was kept away when they were children. But, her sister had stayed a little distant until the diagnosis. Which was probably because of Hans, and Anna didn’t blame her for that.

Anna was grateful that Elsa opened her door to her when she said she was leaving Hans. She was glad Gerda and her sister still wanted to be with her after she left, despite both of them warning her that Hans was bad news. They probably believed she would eventually come to her senses. And hoped she would move on. And although Anna hadn’t expected to move on so quickly after such a long term relationship, it was like a breath of fresh air. Even though… if she were honest with herself, the time with Hans hadn’t felt like a relationship in years. It had just become a regular constant in her life. Not actually anything with true meaning anymore.

So, walking into the coffee shop and seeing that familiar smoothed back ginger hair had Anna completely disoriented. Her chest tightened as she swallowed thickly. There was a familiar crowd of frat boys at the table, including those two guys--Erik and Francis--that Hans had started to hang out with frequently right before their break-up. There were cute sorority girls attached to their arms, smiling and laughing along with them in their seats. There must’ve been some event nearby, and they’d all stopped by for coffee.

Of course, Anna rationally knew by living in the same college town that there was a chance of running into Hans. Arendelle was big but not that big. But she just didn’t think it’d happen. She’d gone months without seeing him, so he’d not really been on her radar. What were the chances he’d show up in the very coffee shop her new, uh, not boyfriend worked at?

Kristoff saw her when she entered, and while he seemed a bit stunned to see her, he grinned fondly--completely unaware of the mental collapse she was experiencing. Anna kept glancing in Hans’ direction, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She forced a small smile, and instead of approaching the counter, she pointed to the table that they normally occupied during her visits. Kristoff furrowed his brows, looking a bit concerned, but nodded anyway.

She returned the gesture and headed towards the seat. Anna huddled herself in the corner, busying with her phone in an attempt to avoid drawing any attention. God, she wanted to kick herself for not wearing makeup that day… or just dressing up at all. She hadn’t felt great that day to begin with, that’s part of the reason she’d wanted so badly to see Kristoff to cheer her up. She’d just left her house in an Arendelle University sweatshirt with leggings and comfy running shoes. And one of her beanies, of course. She was full “sick girl” style… and it pissed her off that Hans could see her in such a state. Anna wanted him to know she was strong, didn’t need him, and was fighting her cancer just fine. In fact, she’d felt better than she ever had. The therapy included in her treatments worked wonders… It was group therapy, but it helped to rant about Hans in the times she needed it.

Her eyes kept flickering around as she scrolled through her phone. Not really reading the content in front of her, she was mostly paranoid about being seen. She felt her blood boil when she recognized the blonde girl she’d caught him macking on the day of her diagnosis. There was part of her that wanted to confront him. To call him out on what a bastard he was.

But she couldn’t. It wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. Anna just wanted to enjoy her day, despite how utterly drained she felt.

Kristoff’s gaze never left her. That frown was plastered on his lips. She knew he could tell something was wrong. That was just one of his many quirks: reading her like a book. Anna watched him as he called Ryder over to take the register and he stalked over to her, apron and name tag still on and everything. Quickly, he pulled up a seat next to her and looked her over.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Anna simply shakes her head. The last thing she wants to do is to upset him while he’s working. She knows how fierce Kristoff’s sneer is, and she doesn’t want to get him fired for glaring down a paying customer. “It’s nothing. J-Just a lot of people in here is all.”

The blonde scoffs at that. “You got that right. They had a fall festival event for the Greek organizations at the park,” he smirked leaning in to her. “You would not believe how many pumpkin spice lattes I’ve had to make in the last hour.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at that. Pushing him gently back by his shoulder, Anna smiled up at him. “When is your break?”

“In about twenty minutes? But if you need me, I’m yours, okay?”

Her heart fluttered at that. Nodding, she agreed. “Yeah.”

Kristoff gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder with a reassuring smile. Giving her one more once over, he seemed hesitant to leave her, but he stood and went back to work.

Despite her spike in anxiety, he really had helped her calm down. At least a little. She felt safe when he was there, but now she felt exposed to the world again. So, she returned to scrolling through her phone. If only she had earbuds so she could drown out the crowd. But she was pretty sure she’d forgotten them on the counter.

Her phone suddenly chimed, startling her but when she saw the ID was Elsa, she instantly answered.

“Hello?”

“Anna, where are you?”

Blinking, she was a bit stunned by her sister’s harsh tone. “I’m at Arendelle Roasts, why?”

“Did you cook something?”

“Uh, yeah? I wanted to lighten the load on Gerda since I was at home all day and baked the chicken for dinner ahead of time.”

“You left the oven on.”

“Oh. Oh, God, Elsa… I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean--I’m so--ugh!” Anna grimaced, smacking herself in the face. God, chemo brain was so stupid! So, not only had she left her earbuds on the counter, she’d also almost burned the house down. Fuck, could this day get any worse!?

“Hey, hey, hey--calm down, Anna, it’s okay. No one got hurt. Just double check from now on, okay?”

“Okay… I just--I’m sorry, it’s only the afternoon and this has already been a horrible day.”

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you with Kristoff?”

Anna tapped the table, glancing her in her ex-fiance’s direction, glad to see his back was still to her. “Yeah, it’s who else is here. Uh--you-know-who.”

“Hans is there!?”

“Yes. And he hasn’t seen me yet, and I’m just trying to keep it that way.”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

After a few more brief reassurances from her sister, they exchanged “love you”s and “goodbye”. When she hung up the phone, she was grateful that she was still alone. There was a small glance from Kristoff, but she just grinned at him and he bobbed his head before returning to customers. It was very crowded. She was lucky their table wasn’t taken when she walked in. Kristoff and Ryder were busy bees as they sped through multiple orders. Their teamwork was impeccable, really. Anna wasn’t sure how on earth Kristoff would be able to take his break.

She was so lost in watching the boys work that when Hans suddenly stood, it completely startled her. Gasping, she hurriedly looked down at her phone, hoping he hadn’t noticed her. He was at the counter, ordering something else it seemed. When he turned towards her, Anna felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She glanced up fully, and Hans was staring at her. He arched a brow, squinting harshly at her as he slowly processed who she was. It disgusted her to see Kristoff speak so politely to her ex as he handed over the drink. Hans’ expression changed to that fake pretty boy smile as he thanked him for the drink. But she saw the way his eyes changed, the way his lips quirked into a smirk as he meandered towards her seat.

Feeling her eyes widen, she went back to piddling on her phone. She could just pretend she had no idea who he was. Maybe, he’d think she was some other girl with cancer? The treatment center was highly regarded around the country, so there were a lot of patients in the area. Anna just lucked out with living in such a prosperous town.

Hans pulled out the chair, sitting down in front of her with that smarmy look on his face. She ignored him. Not even sparing him a glance.

“Well, this is the last place I expected to see you,” he said with a chuckle.

His voice made her skin crawl. She hid her flinch pretty well, she was sure. Anna still didn’t pay him any mind and casually played a word game on her phone. Maybe her constant swiping would pester him enough to leave. He usually had a problem with the way she did anything.

Tapping the table, Hans took a sip of his drink. “You could at least acknowledge me, Anna. You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you while you look like that.”

Anna decided to muster her best Kristoff scowl as she slowly lowered her phone. She kept her gaze hard, lips in a harsh frown. “What do you want ?” she growled with as much venom as she could muster.

His brow twitched. “That’s rude. Is this how you treat all of the men who spare you a glance?”

“Too bad you’re not a man, you’re just a cheating coward,” Anna said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Hans laughed at her words. Which fueled her anger even more. “Such big bad words for someone who looks like she can’t even fight off a fly.”

“Everything is about appearances for you, isn’t it!?” she spat, standing quickly.

Anna felt her nostrils flare, her body shook as hot hatred brewed inside her. Heart pounding, her hands clenched against the table. And while Hans seemed a bit shocked at the display, he still didn’t move. He would learn that she wasn’t that meek little girl she manipulated for far too many years despite how she looked on the outside.

She wasn’t even sure when Kristoff got there.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” he asked, voice cool and professional despite the anger Anna recognized in his eyes.

He was glancing at Anna seeming to beg for an answer, but she just crossed her arms. Staring her ex-fiance down with as much fury as she could.

Hans waved him off. “Oh, nothing to be concerned about. Her bark is far worse than her bite.”

Kristoff’s lips parted at his words, brows shooting past his bangs. “Uh, do you know her?”

“This is Hans. My ex-fiance,” she murmured.

The blonde gaped. “Your what?”

Hans snorted. “Yes, it’s embarrassing to even admit I was with someone like you. You know I’ve always had more of a preference for blondes? Maybe, if you had looked a little more like Elsa, I would’ve found you sexier.”

Kristoff’s jaw snapped shut and clenched. If Hans didn’t shut up, Anna was worried her ex may get decked. Not that she would complain. But Kristoff was working, and that would definitely not look good with his boss.

Shaking her head, Anna scoffed. “Oh, c’mon. You’re pathetic if you think you can goad me.”

“Goad you into what? I’m not afraid of a fragile, desperate, little wallflower like you. Do you know how much it pained me to deal with you for all those years when I didn’t even get the pay out? And I already knew how I wanted to spend our money.” he smirked.

She knew what he was doing. Trying to manipulate her into reacting. Into doing what he wanted. Forcing her into acting. Just as always, trying to be the victim. Make her look like the aggressor to the crowd of people.

He can’t hurt me anymore , she reminded herself. His words meant nothing. Hans Westergaard was nothing to her.

“Look at yourself, Anna. All you ever wanted was for someone to love you and now? What man would ever desire someone like you?”

Kristoff’s hand slammed onto the table, startling both of them, and a few customers at nearby tables. “I would,” he snarled. Anna’s breath caught in her throat. A flood of emotions began to overwhelm her. Gripping Hans by the arm, the blonde brought him to a stand. “I would appreciate it if you’d leave, sir. I’m sure my boss would not be too pleased to hear you’re harassing one of our favorite customers.”

Hans glanced between the two of them before jerking his arm away. “I see. Well, don’t expect any more business from any of us,” he retorted with a glare.

“I can live with that.”

As Hans began to move away, Anna’s feet were suddenly moving on their own. She hadn’t thought through her actions. She didn’t know what came over her. But there was a sick sense of satisfaction when she smacked Hans’ cup in his hand, making him pour the contents all over his clothes. He shouted, gaining more attention from the crowded shop. There was a chorus of laughter from his Greek comrades as Hans flicked coffee off his hands and looked down at his ruined shirt.

“You bitch,” he hissed taking a step towards her.

But Kristoff was faster, getting between the two of them. “Touch her, and you answer to me.” His voice was deep and dark. The fire in those honey-brown eyes spoke more volumes than his words ever could.

Anna blinked innocently. “I’m sorry. I get muscle spasms sometimes. It’s a side effect from chemo,” she chimed loud enough for the witnesses to hear.

With a glare, Hans straightened out his shirt, standing taller and stomping back over to his friends. They quickly gathered, standing and leaving the shop as some of the girls went back to buy a few sweets to go. When he was finally out of the coffee shop, Anna felt her shoulders deflate. Her wobbly legs somehow led her back to a chair as she practically collapsed into it.

She knew the spike in blood pressure was not good for her. But she was so proud of herself. Even though… she honestly just wanted to cry. Her eyes watered, tearing pricking the corners as she quickly wiped them away.

Kristoff’s expression was almost unreadable. There were so many emotions etched along his face. With a sigh, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, she nodded. “Yeah.”

He cocked a brow. “I’ll be back.”

When he walked off, Anna felt her heart plummet to her stomach. She should’ve told Kristoff about Hans much sooner. She was kicking herself for not being honest with him. It was just something she wasn’t fond of talking about. Just springing “hey, i was engaged!” on someone wasn’t a reasonable thing to do. Especially not in a relationship that wasn’t labeled yet.

Anna was stunned to see Kristoff come around the corner in his regular clothes. No apron or name tag in sight. He bobbed his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Go? Go where? What about your shift?”

“I have time I can put in. Honeymaren is already here in the back to cover for me. I’m taking you home.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God, Kristoff. I’m so sorry. I’m totally disrupting your life. I didn’t mean--”

Taking her hands, he pulled Anna to a stand. “Hey, hey, none of that. We’ll talk on the way, okay?”

Anna nodded. “Okay…”

o~o~o~o

They didn’t talk on the way. The truck ride to her home was awkwardly silent. Anna couldn’t help but feel like Kristoff was upset with her. And he had every right to be. She just waltzed into the coffee shop while he was working, had a confrontation with her ex-fiance he didn’t even know about, then forced him to leave his shift early to take her home. It was completely justified if he was furious with her.

When they reached her home, Kristoff put the truck into park. Before she could change her mind, Anna turned to him. “Do you want to come in?”

He seemed stunned, but nodded nonetheless.

Anna opened the door, grateful when she noted there was no one there to ask questions as to why he was here. Kristoff followed her up the stairs as she guided him to her room. He seemed just as in awe of the inside of her home as he had of the outside. Hopping on the bed, Anna patted the place across from her so they could talk face to face about this.

She crossed her legs as Kristoff mirrored her position and looked at her. He sat silently, waiting for her to speak. It took a few moments for her to gather her courage, but Kristoff never rushed her. He just sat patiently as he always did.

Finally, she sucked in a breath. “Hans and I met in high school. I was young and dumb and desperate for a happily ever after. People talk about how romantic it is to marry your high school sweetheart, so I convinced myself that’s what we were,” Anna gazed down at her lap, watching her thumbs fiddle in her lap. “It was all a lie. Hans was so, ugh, convincing . I believed every word he said. I believed him when he told me I was a bad girlfriend if I didn’t do as he wanted. I’d never been in a relationship, how was I supposed to know? As you saw today… Hans was only with me because I have money. And don’t get me wrong his family is loaded, but he didn’t want to have to share with his brothers.”

Kristoff was nodding, absorbing her words like a sponge. “So, what happened? How’d you get out?”

“I had been miserable since we graduated. As soon as he started college, he got worse. More...manipulative than before. Loved drama. Knew how to get under my skin and pick a fight. I knew he was cheating on me, but I just kept pretending he wasn’t. It was just too much. Then… I got diagnosed. And I knew if I was going to be in the fight of my life, then I didn’t want to spend it with Hans. Plus, like hell would I let him get my money if I didn’t make it.”

Snorting at that, he agreed. “True,” he said. She watched him purse his lips, seeming to think something over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anna smiled sadly. “I planned to. I just never felt like I had a reasonable opportunity. Our first date already had such heavy discussions that I didn’t want the added bonus of ‘hey, I had a fiance’ on top of it. I just never wanted to ruin the moment.”

“I understand.”

Sighing, she felt her shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry for all the shit I caused today. This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

Kristoff chuckled at that, nervously scratching at his neck. “It was a shock, for sure. But you have nothing to apologize for. You were so badass.”

“Really?” she giggled, hugging herself slightly.

“Yeah. And when smacked his coffee on him? I had to try so hard not to laugh.”

Anna busted a breathy laugh. “It felt pretty great. You know… the day I left I punched him in the face.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“God, you’re amazing.”

They shared a small laugh, but suddenly… Anna felt all of the anger and hatred she felt for Hans bubbling to the surface. All of the horrid things he’d said to her floated in her head. Despite not caring for Hans for a long time, what he said still hurt. It hadn’t been too long ago that he was still a part of her life. When she still let him control her. And she didn’t want to give him that power over her again, but it was hurtful anyway.

She felt herself fall silent, hugging herself tighter and looking away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

Anna gave a bitter hiss. “I just… He basically admitted that I was nothing to him. Even said I wasn’t as pretty as Elsa and said that I’m even worse off now. It’s so disgusting. It makes me so angry that I let him touch me when he didn’t even find me attractive. That I gave him my virginity. He didn’t deserve me like that. And I deserved better.”

Crawling towards her, Kristoff came to sit beside her. His hand rubbed comforting circles on her back. “You’re right, he never deserved you. But you made the right decision for yourself in getting out. I’m grateful you’re here now. I… I really like being with you, Anna.”

“Me too,” she smiled up at him. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me through all of this.”

“I’m glad I can be here for you,” he said. His smile was so sweet and genuine. She’d never seen someone whose honesty was plastered on their face.

Anna felt her cheeks heat a little as she leaned in closer. She noticed his eyes flick to her lips and back to her eyes. It had her heart pounding. Was he going to kiss her? Did he want to? She wanted to…

Kristoff cupped her cheek, pulling her in slightly before closing the gap between them. The kiss was featherlight. Barely just a brush of their lips together. But it was enough to have her eyes fluttering shut, and leaning into his touch as he deepened the kiss. She sighed, letting out a small, happy hum. Kristoff chuckled in response, laughing against her lips.

For an absolutely shitty day… Anna decided it didn’t end as badly as it began.

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #tw: cancer #tw: character death #cancer fic #angst #hurt/comfort #mentions of chemotherapy #tms&mts #take my scars & make them stars

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corancoranthemagicalman · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Crowley overhears Aziraphale threaten someone/something on his behalf

Anon, holy shit. Were you like blessed with great ideas?? Where do I sign up to have those??

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

The last time Crowley could remember walking up to Aziraphale’s bookshop and spotting Gabriel there, he had flowers and chocolates in his hands that Aziraphale would never see. That was one of the few days throughout his millennia on Earth that he could remember with clarity. One of the first modern threats of losing Aziraphale, as it were.

This time Crowley had not been expecting it. He had not been expecting it the first time, of course. But this time he fully had put it in the hands of the book girl’s great-something-or-another that Gabriel was but a distant figure in the Bentley’s rearview mirror. As it was, spotting Gabriel standing there in his stupid suit with his even more stupid face had sharp teeth pricking at Crowley’s slowly sneering lip. He doubted a faux talk with a coat could get Azirpahale out of whatever trouble he was in now.

Like the snake he was, he poised himself carefully before striking. He waited, nearly swaying as neither Gabriel nor Aziraphale spotted him. It always sent something like a pang through his corporeal heart that Aziraphale’s little bookshop reeked so heavily of demon that there was no sensing Crowley’s arrival.

He held his unnecessary breath as he crawled closer to the window. He strained to listen, not daring to perform a miracle to allow himself in. Even Gabriel would be able to smell the sulphuric entrance. Crowley hissed at himself, berating his insatiable urge to provide Aziraphale’s batting eyes with whatever he so wished as he clutched the bag full of fresh baked goods.

“So, really, it’s all for the best if you come back with me.” Gabriel gave that smarmy grin of his, purple eyes a deadly strike of sugilite against a smaller crystal. But Crowley’s angel was no smaller crystal. He was the Bearer of Her Flaming Sword for Someone’s Sake.

“I believe we’ve made it very clear that we’re on the side of Humanity,” Aziraphale’s prim voice rang out. That Crowley could hear over any distance without strain. His being so attuned to his angel’s own as it was.

Gabriel’s laughter was not like a ringing bell unless that bell was tolling something horrid. “And I believe I’ve made it very clear what will happen to that little... boyfriend... of yours if you don’t come with us.”

Something shifted, even outside of the bookshop. The air took on the smell of electricity. Something unnatural charged, lifting the hairs of Crowley’s corporation on end. He instinctually licked at the air, tasting and smelling that charge he could recognize from a small airbase in Tadfield as Aziraphale wielded his sword, his words, against Crowley to move him into action.

“And I believe I told you exactly what would happen if Crowley so much as senses you in his vicinity.” Aziraphale’s eyes took on that ethereal glow as Crowley peered through the window. A near blinding light as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Principality Aziraphale, flashed his true form. All of his eyes stared Gabriel the fucking Archangel down. Crowley swore he saw some illusion of that flaming sword at his side.

And it must be something, that this once Principality of Heaven would stare down an archangel in a small bookshop in Soho. It must be something, that Crowley watched frozen to his spot as Gabriel flinched at the unexpected show of force.

Gabriel sneered, shaking his corporeal head. “You’re a fool. You could have had everything.”

Aziraphale’s face, true beauty and grace, the only show that perhaps Her Work did have something precious. Truly precious. He smiled primly, head held high. “I have everything I need.” That small Soho book clerk, that great warrior angel, that creature that had held Crowley’s minuscule and shriveled heart, or soul, or whatever the bloody equivalent for an occult being, for millennia, that clerk held out his arm and showed Gabriel the fucking Archangel of Heaven the door. “Have a lovely day.”

There was no argument. Just Gabriel’s face turning nearly as purple as his eyes as he deprived his corporation of air. The archangel must have still held that fear from Aziraphale’s trial to not make a move against that great show of force. Aziraphale politely smiled. It reminded Crowley of what face he had put on during Aziraphale’s trial. Gabriel’s face had been just as contrite. He was like a child being denied a sweet. Crowley’s idly wandering mind left to an estate and an American family and the wrong child until he returned to Gabriel’s pouting leave.

Crowley stayed in his natural shadow until Gabriel had turned the corner. He dusted himself off, brushing at his knees and sauntering into the bookshop. The bell rang, this one. familiar toll. Crowley smirked as he spotted Aziraphale righting several books that Gabriel must have displaced.

“Oh! Crowley!” Aziraphale brightened. “How are you today?” The angel’s eyes wandered to the bag in Crowley’s hand. “What’s-”

“Nothing,” Crowley said abruptly, throwing the bag to Aziraphale. “Just spotted a small shop that piqued my interest.”

Aziraphale opened the bag, the smell of hot and fresh sweets permeating through Gabriel’s sour presence and filling the bookshop with something much more welcome. “Oh,” Aziraphale’s voice came softly. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley swaggered over to the couch, falling on to it with as much grace as a demon who vaguely sauntered downward could. “Ngk, don’t mention it.” He turned away from his angel, not allowing his corporation’s cheeks to flood.

He could hear his angel shake his head as he moved closer to the back. “Well, regardless,” Aziraphale smiled softly, like a treasured secret. “Thank you.”

“Fine.” Crowley allowed the thanks and the four-letter word. “I saw Gabriel as I was leaving.” He brushed his words across their conversation as he grabbed the wine that Aziraphale had set out. The bastard acted as if he didn’t know Crowley was coming, as if Crowley hadn’t been here as long as Aziraphale had accepted him.

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale took out the napkins and treat that Crowley had brought. “Thought he could convince me to rejoin the Force, I suppose.”

“And the offering wasn’t up to your standards, eh?” Crowley smirked without smirking, raised an eyebrow without his face ever moving. Always speaking with his body without moving.

Aziraphale paused, turning to Crowley fully. A quiet conversation that had slowly been building throughout all their millennia took place between Aziraphale’s glowing eyes and Crowley’s shielded ones. Crowley knew the answer to his posed question, and yet...

“I quite like the prospects of Earth and Humanity,” he started, “our side.” Crowley smiled at his words, hiding the gesture behind a sip of the wine he had poured some time during their silent passing of words.

...and yet Crowley would always ask. He was known for his curiosity, for asking questions. And Aziraphale would answer.

#anon asks #c prompt #good omens #ineffable husbands #send me some prompts!#thank you this prompt was... awesome #I almost wanted to make it like a full thing :\\#ur too good to me

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aziraamane · 4 years

Text

All the Better Part of Me (Human AU) - Part 7

(Previous) - (First)

Anathema strolled into the lounge, cleaning her glasses on the hem of her frilly blouse. "Both out for the count," she murmured. "Thought they'd stay up all night, the way they were running around…"

"Tired 'emselves out," shrugged Crowley. He'd sprawled out across his sofa in a tangle of limbs, head resting on the rather unwieldy sofa arm and sunglasses askew on his face.

"That's putting it mildly. I've never seen Adam so excited." Anathema slipped her glasses back up onto her nose as she shuffled around the room, picking up stray toys and rubbish the boys had left lying around. "It's nice, though. I'm glad he's got a good friend now."

"Yeah. Me too."

"And it seems you have as well." She fixed Crowley with a curious gaze. "I wasn't trying to tease you earlier - much, anyway. You do like him, don't you?"

"Ngk."

"Anthony."

Crowley's mouth twitched. "'S not...professional...to talk about that with my employee."

"Anthony," Anathema repeated, dropping to her knees in front of the sofa, "as your employee, I spend a lot of time around you, and I notice things. Namely, that you fucking light up like a beacon whenever you mention Ezra. I've not seen you this happy in years. Something about him is affecting you, and honestly, it'd be great if it carried on, because you're much less of a pain in the ass when you're happy."

Crowley shoved at her, groaning. "Stop it. He's just a friend, alright? Leave it at that."

She opened her mouth to argue back, but suddenly there was a long, repeated pounding at the front door, and they exchanged confused glances. "What on earth…?" Crowley flung himself out of his sprawl and gently shooed Anathema out of the way as he loped towards the commotion. A prank call, maybe, some kids being stupid…

Nope. It was a dishevelled, beaming, and very drunk Ezra Fell.

"There he is! My friend! He won't ridicule me all night!"

"Holy shit, angel. The hell happened?"

Ezra stared at him for a moment - then the smile dropped and he burst into tears.

"They're all so mean to me!" And he fell into Crowley's arms, sobbing his heart out.

Naturally, the best thing to do in a situation like this is to offer some sort of comfort. Maybe a pat on the back, or a firm, squeezing embrace. A few soft words of reassurance and some tissues to mop up the tears. Instead of all that, Crowley uttered, "ngk," and his brain promptly short-circuited into tartan-filled oblivion.

That was how Anathema found them a moment later, Ezra with his head buried in Crowley's shoulder, Crowley clinging to him with a sort of awkward desperation and, presumably, a look of help me in his eyes. Her own eyes rolling, Anathema flapped her hands at Crowley and took a sniffling Ezra to the kitchen, leaving Crowley to stand in the hallway looking utterly bemused.

Once he rebooted, Crowley realised what must have happened at dinner with Ezra's siblings, and he shook his head to dispel the last dregs of stupor before storming into the kitchen. Ezra sat at the island, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve and looking very wobbly atop the narrow stool while Anathema made tea.

"What did they say to you?" he demanded, grabbing for Ezra's hands.

"Anthony, calm down," Anathema sighed.

"No, sod off," he replied, childishly.

Ezra let out a watery giggly, more tears spilling down his flushed, plump cheeks. "Should have just gone home," he admitted, "but I - oh, I don't know-"

"Angel."

"They all think I'm nothing. Useless. An embarrassment to our family." Crowley's hands tightened around Ezra's, jaw clenched. "But," Ezra continued, "but they're right. Gabriel's, well - have you seen Gabriel? He's amazing, so clever and - and - but there's me, and…"

Anathema set a mug of tea in front of Ezra. "Let go of him," she said sternly.

Crowley withdrew with the least venomous glare he could bring himself to adequately muster. Every nerve in his body screamed to, well, scream "how dare they," possibly break a few things. He was good at that, breaking things. Only when Adam wasn't around, though.

"It's okay," Ezra murmured, diligently sipping tea. "I'm used to it." And oh, did that hurt a familiar pain. Crowley heard his mother's firm tones ringing in his ears, all her years of grinding her brood below her heel to shape them into what she wanted. Never able to question it, just going along with it, never being enough, wanting to be enough.

Crowley reached for Ezra's hand again, paused, drew back a moment later. "You don't deserve that, angel."

Ezra said nothing, but a few tears splashed into his mug, lips pressed tightly together as his body quivered with emotion.

"Calm now?" Anathema asked Crowley, who gave a low grunt. "I'll be in my room if you need me." And she swept off, the bracelets on her wrists jangling.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on his own family matters. With Ezra here, drunk and vulnerable, he needed assurance. Crowley gathered his courage and reached out again, patting Ezra's hand softly. "You alright?"

Ezra sighed deeply. "I suppose. Though the room is very spinny right now."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Ah, now that -" Ezra held up a finger, giggling again, "well, that is to say, I - might have taken a very expensive Chardonnay, and told Gabriel I'd stick it up his smarmy arse if he protested." Crowley burst out laughing; how could it be possible for this sweet creature to use even the mildest of profanities? "I believe I had two glasses with dinner, and then the bottle on the way here, so…oh dear, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

"Might be able to out-drink me, angel," Crowley grinned. Now that was difficult to do. Most reporters had learned that the hard way. "Stay here tonight," he offered, "you're not walking alone and I love the Bentley too much to risk you chundering in it. I'll get the spare room ready for you later, yeah?"

"I don't want to impose-" Ezra spluttered.

"I don't think you ever could. 'Sides, Warlock'd love to wake up and find you here. And, uh, I don't have a spare booster seat in the car, so...heh. Forgot about that."

Ezra pondered, staring into his tea. Crowley couldn't help but sigh in relief to see his tears had stopped.

"Yes, alright then," Ezra said. He looked up at Crowley, smiling broadly, if still a little watery - Crowley might have kissed him senseless if he lacked even an ounce of self-restraint, if he knew more about this peculiar man that had somehow become his friend, knew more about what way he swung, if he swung at all.

No, it was too good to risk.

He patted Ezra's hand again. "It's still early. Reckon I might have a few drinks myself. That okay with you?"

"It's your home, darling. Don't stop yourself on my account."

Darling.

Oh, Anathema, you bastard, you’re right.

~*~

The misery of the evening had been promptly forgotten practically the instant the last of the tea vanished down Ezra's throat. He really did feel better - well, still spinny, of course, but no longer with the solid feeling of abandonment lodged in his heart.

He'd popped his head round Adam's bedroom door, just to see how Warlock was doing, and almost cried again to see the boys topping and tailing in a completely ridiculous sprawl across Adam's bed, cosy in the depths of slumber. Crowley had had to drag him away lest he barge in and sweep Warlock into a tight, drunken hug.

And now, with the lights dimmed, doors closed, and rock music playing quietly from surround sound speakers, Ezra and Crowley were laughing and joking whilst enjoying a rather splendid Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the year of which Ezra couldn't recall, nor did he particularly care at present. All he cared about was the smooth, dark taste slipping down his throat, the blessed comfort of the sofa beneath him, and the bright, mirthful tones of Crowley's voice on the other side of the upholstery as he rambled.

"-An' I said, I said - shit, what was it now - oh yeah, that it was the whales! Massive brains! Brain city, angel, 'm tellin' ya."

"Well, of course," Ezra giggled, toying with his wine glass. "Quite big creatures, aren't they?"

"That's m'point!" Crowley gesticulated wildly with his free hand. "Huge! An’ - an’ - shit, where was I going with this…?"

"Whales, brains?"

"Oh, yeah. But then it goes into - into - right, fish ‘r mammal? No idea!” Crowley burst into raucous laughter, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His glasses had come off at some point in the night, revealing the eyes Ezra had been so interested in, but hadn't dared to mention, since he first saw them, the first time he came to the apartment. Amber, they were, or golden, perhaps, with distorted pupils, almost like that of a snake. They were oddly beautiful, if not immediately eye-catching, pardon the pun.

"Anthony, dear fellow." Ezra found himself putting his glass down and scooting closer. Crowley blinked at him, eyelashes fluttering, but said nothing. "May I - I wish to - um…" He shook his head and, without waiting for an answer, raised his hands to cup Crowley's cheeks. The man froze, a choked noise in his throat that Ezra hardly heard as he brushed his thumbs just below Crowley's eyes. "Why do you hide these? They're lovely. Very striking."

Slowly, Crowley lifted his own hands, slender fingers closing around Ezra's wrists. "Have to," he replied. "They hurt otherwise."

"Hurt?"

"Yeah. Light gets to 'em."

"Oh, darling, I am sorry."

"Don't be." Crowley lowered Ezra's hands gently. "Had it all my life. Got a name, uh, colour - colo - coloba - fuck it, can't say words when m'drunk." To Ezra's slight disappointment, Crowley fumbled for the sunglasses lying on the coffee table and jammed them onto his face. "'S better."

Had Ezra gone too far? Even drunk, he felt the gentle pang of guilt, of causing Crowley discomfort in his own home. Dutifully, he shifted backwards on the sofa, putting space between them. With a bleary-eyed glance at the clock, he saw it said two o'clock in the morning. "Oh, goodness me. It's late all of a sudden. I should - well, we should go to bed."

Another choked splutter from Crowley, but after a moment he muttered, "Yeah. Course. Late. Um, I'll set up the guest room - wait here a sec…" And on wobbly, spindly legs, Crowley exited the room.

It was sweet of Crowley, Ezra mused, to let him stay. A funny, tense sensation in his chest had balled itself up there over the course of their drinking session, and he couldn't quite place it - but he knew who could. With a resolute nod, he pulled out his mobile and, with much squinting and pressing of wrong keys, finally typed out a coherent message to his best friend.

"Tracy, darling, I must talk to you asap."

#tia-lew writes #fanfiction #human au #ineffable husbands #good omens #otp: ineffable #aziraphale #crowley #work in progress #fanfic excerpt #slow burn #crowley is a dork #aziraphale is a precious drunk boi and we must protect him at all costs

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zayashmaya · 5 years

Text

Gods and Monsters - 10 - Because of You.

Tagora x Reader; SFW

You catch up with Lynera, and an outing with Tagora gets interrupted by Zebruh.

It was a mad world, we lived for fun And we got shit for free Had a face like an angel, but inside my heart was as black as a broke movie screen … But then I saw you standing there, like a millionaire Give me a number, call me before I get stupid Make me uncrazy like you did

Look at me now, I have everything You gave to me and my heart can sing I was a kid who could only drink Dance on tables, makin' deal with devils like a drunk beauty queen Fighting the fantasy, hooked on the scene, but you brought me to my knees And it's all … because ... of you

- Lana Del Rey

You weren’t quite ready to head home just yet. With the fire of determination burning in your soul, you hunted down Lynera — her craziness was exactly the sort of personality you wanted to bounce your new high off of. She was lurking in her hideout, focused on some sort of paperwork scattered across her desk. At your warm greeting, she instantly perked up, momentarily abandoning her work to excitedly buzz about your arrival and launching into a million rants about the other jades as you made yourself comfortable on her couch.

Dear, sweet Lynera. You let her run hot and cold with her monologuing so she got everything off her chest, because you owed her a lifetime of perfect friendship for not chasing after her when Lanque had told her off.

You hoped that bastard was fuming after your beautiful payback. Maybe you should have given him your Chittr handle, just to laugh at whatever angry insults he would have sent to you.

“So.” You began with an air of utter discreteness, checking your nails inconspicuously. “I heard you’ve been giving Lanque a hard time lately.”

Lynera had slipped back into looking over her papers before you spoke. She whirled around to face you, her pupils narrowed into thin slits and her cheeks tinted jade. “ - !!! who told you that !!!"

Oh boy. A flustered Lynera was a dangerous one. You plotted your next move carefully and hoped her knife was stashed far away somewhere. Or even disposed of, as you had recommended to her one time. “He told me,” you confessed. Lynera’s eyes widened. “He was keeping an eye on me earlier at the grub nursery and just started venting. And you know what?” You flashed her a thumbs up. “Keep up the good work.”

She blinked in astonishment before meekly fidgeting in her seat and glancing away. “ - i just couldnt let him get away with what he said to me you know.“

“It was pretty fucked up,” you said in agreement.

“ - !!! and !!! “ Her eyes lit up once more. “ - !!! i dont want him thinking that im a weak little pushover because im not !!! - !!! he has no idea who he messed with !!! - !!! that rude pathetic slut !!! “

You quietly regarded her. “Holding a grudge, are we?"

“ - !!! I — I … !!! “ Lynera bit her lip and flushed brighter than before. You furrowed your brows at her odd response. “ - im going to prove to him that im not a weakling who runs from fights and if he has a problem with how im treating him then he can come see me instead of gossiping.” She shook her head. “ - funny how hes doing exactly what he criticized me for.”

“ … it sounds like you want him to confront you again.”

“ - !!! you know what yes i do !!!” She squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest, hands clenched into fists. “ - !!! lanque probably thinks i cant take him on because i ran away last time but !!! - !!! i am stronger than he thinks and i want him to know that !!!”

“Lynera?” She calmed down momentarily and glanced at you. “Do you … Is this some sort of pitch flirting?”

Instead of the sort of vehement opposition you knew only she was capable of — volcanic outbursts and graceless flailing — Lynera merely deflated, hanging her head as her eyes swam with unshed tears. “ - … i just really hate him ok.”

Fuck. Of course she would take his challenge in stride. It was so difficult to keep up with what trolls consider platonic or not.

Guilt pierced through you as though Lynera had personally slid her knife deep into your chest. How could you have missed the signs? It’s not like Lynera was known for being subtle.

And then you remembered the sort of person Lanque was. Toxic, rotten, and completely in control of his vices. Lynera would not survive his manipulative scheming. You were anxious just thinking about how swiftly and efficiently he would break her down.

“Is he really someone you’d want to get involved with?” you asked.

“ - what why.” Lynera narrowed her eyes at you. Uh oh. “ - !!! why wouldnt i he is so hatable and and — !!!” She pushed up her glasses and rubbed away her tears. “ - maybe it could help me get over bronya i dont know.”

“Lyn, come here.”

She looked at you questioningly, and when you patted the open space beside you, she mustered up a weak smile and made her way over to you. You pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she sat down, and she squeaked in surprise, her hands hovering in the air before settling hesitantly around your waist.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” you spoke through her curly hair tickling your nose. “Hooking up with an asshole isn’t going to magically make your love for Bronya disappear. The challenge might be enticing, but you and I both know you deserve someone better.” You pulled back slightly and met her stare. “Only idiots fall for someone like Lanque. And you are not an idiot.”

Lynera sniffled, and this time, her smile was more genuine. She nodded and said, “ - maybe youre right."

“Just think on it, okay?”

“ - yes i will.”

“And will you think more on what I said before about throwing out these torture devices? You know Bronya would be horrified by the stuff in this room.”

She glanced at the iron maiden, panic blossoming on her face.

Oh, sweet Lynera. What were you going to do with her, you wondered fondly.

“You did what?!”

“You heard me.”

Tagora looked at you with beaming pride as he sipped his drink. “We’ll have to celebrate this, you know."

You giggled and waved dramatically around the cafe. “What do you think we’re here for?”

“No no, you deserve far more than a coffee for your sleazy efforts.” He placed a hand on top of yours. “I mean it, that was some top-notch payback. Clearly my influence is finally rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, Gor Gor.” You laced your fingers with his and smirked. “You should know by now that the student always surpasses the master.”

He eyed your connecting hands and blushed lightly, yet made no effort to pull away. Progress, you told yourself. “You wish," he teased. “This sort of talent is in my blood. Your intentions are ruled by something far more … concupiscent.”

“Mhm.” You took a gulp of your coffee. “What does that word mean?”

Tagora looked at you like he swallowed sour moobeast milk. This time, he retracted his hand, opting to rest his head against it. “Will you ever cease to amaze me?”

You smiled. “Never. And by the way, there’s been a new development that I may or may not need some advice on.”

“My counseling services don’t come cheap,” he snarked, and you lightly kicked him under the table, earning a disgruntled look as he wiped away the nonexistent dirt from his trouser pants.

”Anyway — pretending I did not just hear that — I realized that I might have stepped on some toes, so to speak.” Tagora quirked his head in question. “It looks like one of my friends is pitch for Lanque.”

“And why is that your problem?”

Damn, leave it to him to be so blunt. “Because she’s my friend, and I don’t want to accidentally get in between whatever fuckfest is brewing? But I also feel like I should. I don’t want her getting hurt by him.”

“What, do they have some sort of history?"

“I guess? She’s the friend who brought me to the hive party and got told off so harshly that she left in tears."

“Hah!” Tagora fell back against his chair in a fit of sharp laughter. “That’s gold. She couldn’t handle the heat then, and so what makes her think she can take him on now?”

You pursed your lips. “The girl has torture devices in her hideout, Gor Gor. Another very good reason for why I don’t want to cross her.”

He simply waved you off and snorted. “Please, like you haven’t survived worse. If you want my opinion, then I suggest you keep doing what you’re doing and let her wallow in her misery. With the stunt you pulled on him, I guarantee you have nothing to worry about. Or better yet, bulge block her, piss her off, and get with her instead.”

“That advice is the exact opposite of what I expected, and also makes no sense."

“What’s there to not understand? It’s a perfect set-up, a win-win situation if you play your cards right.” Tagora steepled his fingers and leaned forward, diabolical intent etched all over his face. “You either reveal your elicit escapades with the slutty bottom feeder and get on your pal’s bad side, or you continue this ongoing battle. It’s quite the beautiful situation, really. You have all the power here."

“This is really weird,” you admitted weakly. “You … want me to have an enemy? Wouldn’t you want me to be free from this drama and let Lanque deal with his own bullshit?”

“Uh, no? Why wouldn’t I want you to be in a kismesissitude? Especially when it’s off to such a passionate start.”

You tried several times to offer a rebuttal, but the words just couldn’t come out. “What do you mean kismesissitude?" you shrieked, earning a few glances from nearby patrons and a smarmy smile from Tagora. You blushed and toned down your outburst. “That is a relationship. What Lanque and I have is explicitly the opposite of a relationship. We — this is, i — it’s platonic hate!”

“Right. And it was also very platonic when you were slobbering all over his bulge."

“Tagora. Disgusting."

“Fine! Be in denial all you want. That’s how it starts, anyway.” He sighed and leaned back. “You owe me another drink for this headache.”

You mentally thanked him for switching the subject, because you were about to lose your mind from his ridiculous assertions. “Sure thing, just put it on your tab."

“You mean your tab.”

“Nah. I’m not exactly on a payroll here."

“Weren’t you the one who recently mentioned lavishing me in expensive chocolate and creating a pile of luxurious ablution robes? I think there was some serenading being offered as well."

“Yeah, but where do you think I’m gonna get the funds to do all of that?”

“You’re planning on wooing me with my own hard-earned money?”

You cheekily grinned and held up your drink for a toast. “Is it working so far?”

He rolled his eyes and lost the battle to return your smile, clinking his cup to yours. “I’ll decide once I see that pile.”

“Assuming that you won’t be the one to make it for me.”

“If you come back to my hive with me right now, I can guarantee a very comfortable pile made from a mountain of spreadsheets detailing your massive list of debts to me."

“And you say I lack a sense of romance — “

“ ♥ Did someone say romance?♥ ”

Oh no.

A hand settled over your shoulder, uncomfortably close to the bare skin of your neck. Tagora was staring above you with an expression of frozen civility, laced with an undercurrent of panic that only a highblood could evoke from him. And as Zebruh settled into a stool right in between you two, flashing you a toothy smile and over exaggerated wink, you wondered if Tagora would be able to take this monstrosity in stride.

“So nice of you to join us, Zebruh,” you weakly said, offering a half-assed smile.

He ignored your obvious discomfort, as usual. “Imagine my surprise when I noticed you while I was taking a stroll! ♠ Not that I was actively looking for you, though. ♠ ♣ That would be a very inappropriate thing to do, because it would seem like I’m trying to take control of your lowblood autonomy for my own selfish gain. ♣ “

“Um, w — well I am sort of on a da — “

Zebruh whirled around to face Tagora, who had noticeably straightened out as though someone had shoved a rod up his ass. He leaned in unnaturally close, forcing Tagora to inch back ever so slightly. “ ◆ Hello there, I don’t believe we’ve met! ◆ “ He held out a hand in greeting, and Tagora immediately met his handshake with vigor, as though spurred by an instinctual pull. Zebruh did not let go. “My name is Zebruh, although you’ve probably heard a lot about me already through our lovely mutual friend here. ♥ It’s so admirable to see a midblood of your stature forgoing commonplace laws to protect an alien! ♥ “

Then, and only then, did Zebruh withdraw his hold, grinning pleasantly all the while. Tagora looked absolutely murderous behind his customer service smile. “The law means everything to me — “ he forced out through gritted teeth, and before he could launch into a scathing attack, your foot darted out beneath the table to rub up against his lower leg. He met your heavy handed stare and seemed to catch the meaning behind the subtle shake of your head, because his breath escaped him like a deflated balloon as he loosened the tension in his frame and weaved his hands together in front of him. This time, his poker face was spot on. “ — and that is why I offer equal representation to all people, regardless of their blood color or species,” he finished off. “Oh, but where are my manners. I am Tagora Gorjek, legislacerator-in-training.”

Usually, Tagora finished off his introductions with the offer to call him by his nickname. He always told you that breaking the ice while networking was of utmost importance to him. The absence of such a peace offering was very telling, at least to you. And you could not be more proud, or more relieved. Zebruh would definitely have taken it the wrong way otherwise.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,“ Zebruh said, and turned to look at you with a contemplative expression. “ ♠ I didn’t know you had teals for friends. ♠ ◆ I hope you’re protecting yourself from exploitation, because they are a really ruthless bunch. ◆ “ He glanced at Tagora, the corner of his mouth curled up. “ ♣ Not that I blame you at all, of course; it’s just a teal’s nature, you know? ♣ “

Tagora sat in silence for a moment. You were starting to grow concerned before he smoothly replied, “I commend you for being so socially aware of my caste’s shortcomings. It is rare to meet an indigoblood who is capable of introspection.”

Zebruh nodded sagely. “I take this sort of stuff very seriously. ♣ Fighting for lowblood rights is an honor and privilege that very few can boast about, but I am willing to sacrifice my standing to protect the weak. ♣ “

You reluctantly patted his forearm that rested on the table in an effort to get his attention away from Tagora. It worked splendidly — Zebruh’s eyes lit up at the contact, and he scooched his stool a little closer to your side before throwing an arm around the back of your seat. “He’s really such a good friend to me, Gor Gor,” you forced out, discretely inching away from Zebruh until you sat at the edge of your chair. “Your drink is getting cold, by the way!”

Tagora brought the mug so rapidly to his face that he nearly smacked himself with it. You taught him this trick a while ago, to hide his expression if he was getting too riled up in the presence of someone who would cull him for his disobedience in an instant.

With that taken care of, you poked Zebruh’s side and said, “You don’t have to worry about Tagora. He treats me better than most!” His pleasant grin faded a little. “But not as much as you, of course.”

“ ♥ Your safety has always been my top priority, sweetheart. ♥ “ Tagora choked on his drink. “ ◆ If I don’t look out for you, then who else will? ◆ ♥ And considering how close you and I have gotten, I say this as someone who is as invested in developing our potential quadrant as you are. ♥ “

Tagora was openly glaring daggers at the back of Zebruh’s head. Your Gor Gor Panic Meter was lighting up with the intensity of the Alternian sun — you could sense a meltdown coming soon.

“That’s really so kind of you!” you squeaked. “But remember how we decided to just be friends? Very, very good platonic friends with no pale feelings whatsoever? Remember that, Zebruh?”

“I’m fairly certain her quadrants are being filled these days,” Tagora pipped up, his claws digging into his cup as his diplomatic grin took on a darker undertone.

“ ♠ Really? ♠ ” Zebruh glacially asked, retracting his arm from around your seat. “By who?”

“By me,” he replied with slight bite. “And various other individuals. Surely you must have heard, given that you are so close to her.”

Oh, your indigoblood friend did not appreciate that. “ ♣ Well that’s pretty damn presumptuous of you to say, considering you didn’t let her answer for herself! ♣ “ He shifted in his seat to face you and grasped your hands in a pleading gesture. “ ◆ My dearest companion of unspecified nature, please see this toxic situation for what it really is! ◆ ♥ You deserve to be treated like the queen you are, not silenced into submission. ♥ ”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression. “It’s really not that serious, dude.”

Zebruh sighed dramatically and shook his head. “ ◆ I can’t bear to see you beaten down like this and remain so unaware. ◆ Do you see what I mean about teals now?"

Tagora slammed his drink down on the table none too gently. “I’m terribly sorry for having given you such a poor impression of my character,” he hurriedly said. “And I wouldn’t dare presume that you are capable of ever being wrong about these things, but with all due respect, that is my moir — my associate you are speaking to, and I must politely request that you — th — that you unhand her.”

Oh my gods he almost called me his moirail and now he’s going to die after talking down to this crazy fucker —

You were frozen from an onslaught of emotions as Zebruh obliged Tagora’s demand in favor of leaning into his personal space. “You know, I’m sensing very strong hostility coming from you. ◆ I can vibe with that! ◆ ” He tugged on his bowtie and winked. “♠ If you wanted a formidable kismesis, you could have just said so. ♠ ��

Tagora looked like he was ready to faint on the spot from the suggestion. You have never seen him look so pale and scandalized. “Regrettably, I am entirely unavailable in that regard!"

“Oh. ♠ Then you’re just trying to piss me off. ♠ ” He folded his arms in an attempt to appear intimidating, yet his petulant expression made him look utterly pathetic instead. “I came all the way out here to see my best friend, so it’s kind of rude of you to lead me on with pitch flirting and leave me hanging like this!”

You needed to salvage this shitshow immediately. “Didn’t you say you were just passing by?“

Zebruh flushed indignantly. “W — well, whatever! ♣ You should be thankful that I’m even giving you the time of day — either of you! ♣ “ He pointed at you. “In fact, I’ve been nothing but kind and supportive to you, so I think you owe me for my efforts.”

Tagora sputtered in his haste to reply, but you cut him off with a sharp look. He inhaled deeply and slumped back against his chair, his eyes taking on a concerning shade of darkening yellow as he roughly carded his fingers through his hair. “What do you propose I owe you?” you asked lightly.

Zebruh’s eyes widened and he tilted his head in confusion, as though he did not expect you to be so agreeable. He tapped his chin thoughtfully until a smug look overcame him. “I’m feeling pretty hurt by all of this rude treatment. ◆ I wouldn’t mind a chance for you to join me back at my hive for a relaxing feels jam session to discuss how much this exchange has affected me. ◆ “

To you, the statement was utterly harmless — it’s not like you haven’t had a sit down with a friend to talk about personal issues before. But to Tagora, Zebruh may as well have thrown his drink in his face and pailed you right on the tabletop for all to see. His face was practically fluorescing teal, a stark contrast to the eerie orange glow of his eyes. And with the way his teeth were digging into his bottom lip to hold his outburst at bay, you suspected he was about to draw blood soon. Thank the gods Zebruh was turned away from him.

You shot out of your chair and slammed your hands down on the table. “We! We really need to get going, don’t we, Tagora?!” you exclaimed in a wavering voice. “We have to meet with Tyzias soon for your study session!” Zebruh frowned, and you hastily added, “I’m so sorry, we really lost track of time. To answer your earlier suggestion, I’ll have to say no to that, but I am very flattered by the offer! Why don’t you walk us out?”

Zebruh tisked, languidly getting up and stuffing a hand into his pocket. “Fiiine. ♠ It’s not like I was serious anyway. ♠ "

You expertly sidestepped his attempt to wrap an arm around your waist to guide you to the exit, quickly coming up to Tagora as he silently stood and watched the spectacle with no small amount of distaste coloring his sneer.

“We’re almost rid of him,” you whispered conspiratorially, ignoring his sour mood and looping your hand through the crux of his arm.

He nodded stiffly and kept you as far away from Zebruh as possible, situating himself between you two on your way out. You smiled secretly to yourself as you felt him press up against your side, presumably to keep himself away from Zebruh as well. Even in the throes of anger, Gor Gor was still a wimp around highbloods.

The crisp air filled your lungs with much-needed calmness once you stepped outside. Tagora radiated tense energy beside you, staring straight ahead as though in an effort to forget the situation he currently found himself in.

You put yourself between him and Zebruh this time, hoping he would have the chance to cool down while you handled the indigoblood. “Which way are you headed?” you innocently asked.

Zebruh pointed towards the downtown area, where the suburban streets quickly morphed into seedy-looking buildings lit up by neon advertisements. “I was on my way to a hot new club that opened up recently, before I so graciously decided to stop by and see you. ♥ I heard that the owner is a pragmatic rustblood, and I just have to meet him! ♥ ◆ Would you be interested in joining me? ◆ “ He eyed Tagora critically. “I’m sure your friend can get his homework done without you."

You heard a barely-restrained growl beside you as Tagora grasped your hand in his own with a vice-like grip. “I’m sorry, Zebruh, maybe next time,” you said with an apologetic smile, angling your body towards the opposite direction. “Text me all about it later though!”

He pouted and grumbled about not seeing you enough these days, but finally relented in the end, throwing a careless wave as he walked off. You wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t follow you, but Tagora jerked you forward and stormed towards an aimless direction.

“Tagora, slow down!” you huffed, tugging on his hand. “We’re in the clear. You don’t have to power walk us to another continent.”

“There is no place far enough away from that creature," he hissed, coming to a full stop and releasing his hold on you to stare down at his hands in livid contempt. "That disgustingly sweaty palm of his ruined my skin!” He curled them up into fists as they trembled, and his voice began to take on a hysteric edge. "And to add insult to injury, he had the fucking audacity to assume that I would break the law? Like you’re some kind of charity case to me!” he ended in a screech.

“Gor Gor, he’s gone now,” you said in a hushed whisper, hoping to quiet him down as you flushed at his outburst. To your surprise, passersby paid little to no attention to him, going about their day as though this was a normal scene. Considering the violent nature of trolls, you suspected that to be the case.

Tagora groaned and shook his head as he buried his fingers in his hair and pulled so tightly that you rapidly grew concerned for him. You gripped his shoulders and shushed him down, but he barely acknowledged you, throwing his head back as he stared wide-eyed up at the sky with a disturbing expression. “That fucking highblood thinks he can walk all over me,” he seethed, before cutting himself off with a high-pitched giggle. “And he can! He fucking can! Because I’m just a lowly ruthless teal who he feels the need to protect you from, while thinking I would spread my strut sticks for him!"

You balked at the crude statement. “Tagora, no — “

He sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly stilled. Your momentary hope of him finally calming down promptly evaporated as his eyes darkened to an alarming shade of red, his pupils narrowed into thin slits. You flinched when he finally looked at you. “That piece of shit lowlife just couldn’t leave you alone, could he?” he muttered in an eerily quiet tone. “And right in front of me, too. And I couldn’t do anything about it.” He broke off into another round of freaky giggles, no longer looking at you, but looking through you. “I may be just a weak teal, but I can still show him how gogdamn ruthless I can be, because when I sic the drones at him, he’ll be nothing but a pile of fucking ash by then!"

You stepped back as Tagora doubled over in a fit of vicious laughter. Yep, he was absolutely incomprehensible now.

It was your time to shine.

You have prepared for this moment for quite a while, considered all angles of approach and optimal spots for papping. The traditional seated frond hinge shooshpap was standard protocol, considering how squeamish he got whenever you dared to touch his face, but you have kept a killer technique hidden up your sleeve.

You had his lusus to thank for the bout of inspiration. Tagora had overworked himself into a frenzy one evening and ended up borderline passed out on the couch at his lusus’ behest, laying obediently as the ferret meticulously groomed his hair and dug his little paws into tense muscles. You had watched with curiosity, seated off to the side so as to not disturb their bonding moment. Just as you had prepared to slink away, the lusus lightly chittered at you to sit back down, and with a knowing look cast to you, he scritched at the nape of Tagora’s neck.

He had melted into absolute putty for the rest of the early morning. And if his lusus had bequeathed Tagora’s weak spot to you for a purpose, then you were obligated to carry out his wishes.

So while Tagora continued to rant and rave into the night sky, you sneaked up behind him and snuck your way under his long hair to touch the nape of his neck. Tagora froze instantly, like a prey caught in a predator’s grasp. You gave him no time to react, gently raking your nails along the exposed skin in a meandering pattern as you quietly shooshed him and petted his upper arm with your other hand.

Within a split second, all the tension in his frame melted away. His arms dropped to his sides and his head fell forward as he let out a deep sigh, giving you better access as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and stroked it with your thumb. You peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face, and you were stunned to see how relaxed he looked, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, and a substantial blush coloring his cheeks.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” you softly asked.

“Yes,” he meekly whispered.

“Will I need to resort to more shooshpaps in the near future?”

“No."

You sighed and released your hold on him, coming around to stand in front of him with folded arms. “You’re an absolute nutcase sometimes, Gor Gor.”

Tagora blinked at you, eyes finally settled back to their normal yellow hue. He huffed and looked away, still lightly blushing. “Well. I might have a bit of a problem regulating my temper. If you know a better way to deal with a lifetime of pent-up anger and humiliation brought on by the complexities of Alternian society, let me know.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to smoke a blunt once in a while.”

Tagora glared at you. “It would kill me, and I will kill you if you bring that shit anywhere near me. Bad enough that you come to my hive smelling like that garbage.”

You giggled and smiled impishly. “Looks like I won’t need to.” You wiggled your fingers. “My shooshpaps are an effective tranquilizer, apparently.”

He bit his lip. “How did you think of that move?”

Should you out his lusus as your partner in crime? Better not — you might get some more insight from the ferret at a later date. “I guess I just know you that well. It took a while to figure out your preferences, since you’re so weird about being touched.”

“So you’ve put a lot of thought into it … ?”

“Sure have,” you cheerily admitted, and Tagora’s blush reappeared with a vengeance. “Wow, that’s quite a reaction.”

You expected him to lash out at you in denial, and yet he simply shuffled in place as he rubbed his shoulder, his bang obscuring half of his face from your view. You cocked your head in confusion at his sudden silence —

And you were promptly pulled into a tight hug. Your heart thumped as you stood frozen in shock as he briefly nuzzled the side of your face before pulling away with lightning speed and settling his arms behind his back.

Tagora briefly cleared his throat before saying, “That was … a thank you. F — for caring, and … and doing that for me.”

You thickly swallowed and nodded, slowly succumbing to the realization of what your shooshpap had meant for your friendship. A while ago, you had done the same for Polypa. You recalled how strange her reaction had been, reminding you that she needed to remain professional as she fought back her flustered blushing. And the way she had melted into your touch …

It looked eerily like an orgasm, quickly followed by post-coital relaxation.

Gods, did you just …

“I, um, I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wringing your hands nervously.

He furrowed his brows. “For what?”

“For … you know, not warning you in advance? I’m just now realizing that I should have asked for your consent to do that. I never really considered how intimate a shooshpap was … “

Tagora’s eyes widened, and he softened his expression. “I don’t. I don’t mind."

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Of course not. It’s not like it w — wasn’t, ah, unwanted.” Tagora held out a hand for you. You shyly complied, and this time, his hold on you was tender as the two of you resumed your walk. “Anyway, aren’t you afraid of me when I get like that?”

You tittered. “What the heck is there to be afraid of? I know you would never hurt me. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can lift you with one arm.”

”Hilarious."

“Oh, and by the way, I figured out how I’ll fund your expensive taste.” Tagora quirked a brow, and you grinned sneakily. “I’ll be pilfering your swear jar. You owe it a hefty fee after your meltdown.”

He chuckled. “It’s still my money.”

“Not when I tell your lusus about your uncouth, boorish behavior.”

“So you know what those words mean, but not ‘concupiscent’?”

“I can only listen to Galekh for so long before my mental thesaurus gets filled up for the day.”

“Ugh.” Tagora rolled his eyes fondly, and you squeezed his hand without thought, simply basking in how happy he made you.

#self indulgent fluff #marvus next chapter with more fluff #friendsim #homestuck #hiveswap #tagora gorjek #tagora x reader #tagora/reader #lynera skalbi #gods and monsters #zebruh codakk

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