I've been feeling very normal lately.

Year of the Rabbit — Five: Peripheral

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Yoongi, Taehyung x Jimin

Tags — best friend!Jungkook, non-idol au, flower shop au, gym au, florist!MC, gym owner!Jungkook, brother!Namjoon, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.4k

Summary — Blame it on the storm or the secret feelings or the snow-in, but one thing is for sure: a lot can happen to two best friends when they're confined to their stores overnight. 

Warnings — language

Part — 5 / 7

Previous — Next

Jungkook straightens his back. The resolve on his face settles into a firm decision. He takes a long swing from his soju, emptying the bottle, and turns towards you. 

"How do you suggest I go about doing that, then?"

"How do you mean?"

"You're a girl. How would you want someone to tell you that they were into you?"

"What, do you think every girl likes being asked out the same way?" At his dumbfounded expression, you scoff. "Aish, I don't speak 'girl,' Bunny. You know her. What would she like?" You tap the side of his head with your knuckles. "Use that brain."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away, and replies, "Just humor me, would you? Give me some ideas."

Unable to ignore his insistence, you huff out a breath and tilt your head slightly. "Well...if you're scared of face-to-face, maybe try over the phone?"

"Like a text?"

You shake your head vigorously, an unintended groan slipping out. "What? No, that's the worst idea ever! I was thinking more phone call confession. Those are cute."

A tiny smirk tugs on the corners of Jungkook's lips, and the sides of his eyes crinkle as you speak. "That's a kdrama cliche if I've ever heard one."

You grab one of the throw pillows and hold it up, eyes narrowing at your target. "Say it again, I dare you."

The brunet raises his hands in defense. "I didn't say it wasn't cute!"

"You wanted ideas, you get ideas." Lowering the throw pillow, you hold it to your chest and turn your eyes from his. "Don't take my word for it. Would she like that?"

"Maybe...it's worth a try, honestly."

"That's really not a great way to answer that, Kookie." Turning around so that you're sitting cross-legged in front of your companion, you place the pillow in your lap and gesture towards him. "So, if you wanna call her, now you need to decide when."

His eyes widen a bit, and a pink tint covers his cheeks. "After the Lunar New Year, maybe?"

"Why not now? Everyone's in a celebratory mood. Everyone's happy. This is the best damn time, and besides, you got me—your loyal wing-woman—here to help you."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "You're not seriously suggesting—"

"—Call her," you interrupt. "Right now."

The brunet's expression shifts from surprise to horror. "We don't even have service thanks to the storm!"

Pulling your cell from your pocket, you show your companion the three bars with a smug smile. "Storm's passed, Bunny. Call her."

"No way."

You grip the edge of the pillow and lean forward "Why not! I helped you ask out that girl in tenth grade. You were a chicken then, like, even more so than now. I can guide you through this."

Your best friend shakes his head as he pulls himself to his feet. Shuffling away from you, back towards the makeshift kitchen in front of the bakery, he replies, "Not gonna happen, [Y/n]."

You pick yourself off the ground and follow him. "Seriously, though. Why not? How long have you been wanting to ask this girl out? A while, yeah? Take it from me: waiting only makes it harder."

Jungkook begins to clean up the makeshift kitchen, keeping his hands busy on that task and he murmurs a soft reply. "I'd rather do it on my own time. Nothing against you, I just..."

Seeing his obvious discomfort, and realizing that he's not going to change his mind, you relent and let your next argument fall away. You grab a reusable grocery bag from the shelf by the registers and return to help him put things away. Jungkook's gaze flickers up to yours, clearly taken back by your silence.

"That's it?" he asks. "You're not going to push it anymore?"

"No, no," you reply, giving a dismissive wave of your hand. "You wanna do it on your own time, that's okay. I won't force you."

"Then why do you sound so salty about it?"

Tilting your head to the side, you blow a piece of hair out of your eyes. "'Cause I'm always salty?"

Jungkook snickers at your retort, showing his agreement through his lack of comeback.

The following minutes of cleanup are silent. The two of you enjoy each other's company as you put the ingredients into the bag, clean the cooking equipment and pans, and fix the mess around the cooking area. As you retrieve the dishes from the cubby area in front of the window, Jungkook counts out the amount of money owed to the store. Plus an extra tip to account for the mess and disturbance for the evening. You've known the owner for some time, and you highly doubt he'd mind given the circumstances, but seeing Jungkook go out of his way to make things right gives you a sense of pride.

And the little whisper of curiosity perks up again at the thought of who he might be pining after. It had better be someone worthy of him. You're protective of all your friends, but none more than your best friend. It twists your stomach in knots to think about him going through another heartbreak. 

But what if this girl really is the one for him? You've never known him to be secretive. If she means this much to him, and he's too shy to talk about her, she's worth asking about.

Again.

You slip behind him at the register, standing up on your tip-toes to whisper, "Although, if you had asked her out already, you'd be at her apartment getting some right now instead of freezing your ass off here with me—"

The brunet groans loudly, caught off-guard by your sudden appearance, and tosses the bills onto the counter. "—Fucking knew you wouldn't let it go."

"I'm just sayin'! Year of the Rabbit could've started off with a bang for the Gym Bunny."

He turns on his heel, staring you down with an unamused expression and cocked eyebrow. "You realize I'm not even born the Year of the Rabbit, right? I'm Year of the Ox."

With a wave of your hand, you reply, "Ox, Rabbit, whatever. It's not even good luck for your birth year, anyway. Be glad it's not the Year of the Ox."

"At least I'm not Year of the Tiger, like you."

"Which explains my shitty year last year," you snide, referencing the prior year in the Chinese zodiac cycle. "Well, what's your girlfriend's zodiac then?"

Jungkook runs a hand through his dark, unruly locks as he turns his back to you. "Um...Rabbit."

"Oof, then maybe don't call her."

He moves across the room, scoops up the blanket from the flower shop, and shakes the crumbs of food from the interior. Eyes still averting yours, he returns, blanket in hand. Draping the scarlet fabric across your shoulders, you fall silent. All sarcasm and teasing instantly fades at the closeness. The gesture silences you; tattooed fingers are gentle and warm as they tighten the throw around you, brushing against your exposed neck.

"Wh—What was that for?" you murmur, voice suddenly softer in the neon light of the bakery.

Jungkook grins, and your heart drops into your stomach when his dimples take center-stage. "You looked cold."

"Oh...really? I feel fine."

A single inked finger caresses your cheek, leaving a trail of tingles and warmth in its wake. "Your cheeks are rosy." His voice is even quieter than yours, and for a brief moment, his gaze locks with yours.

Swallowing dryly, you cup your cheeks between your palms. "I feel warm."

He chuckles, "That's probably the soju, Flower Child."

You narrow your eyes as you stare up at him, keeping your vermilion cheeks covered. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you." It's more of an accusation than a question.”

Jungkook sighs heavily, dropping his hands from the blanket's periphery. "You're really not gonna let this go, are you?"

"I'm just curious!" you exclaim, shaking yourself out of the stupor caused by his closeness. "Who's lucky enough to grab your attention?"

His eyes close for a brief moment. In the silence, you feel the heaviness return to the conversation. The air is uncomfortable, and you find yourself shuffling in place.

"After the holiday," he breathes, letting his attention move to the tile flooring below. "Maybe...Maybe—"

The sound of explosions and the sight of scarlet flares raining from the sky cuts his sentence off. You jump slightly, instinctively moving closer to him. Jungkook's hand reaches for yours, and when you glance up at him, you see his eyes glued to the windows that line the front of the supermarket. 

When it happens a second time, he drags you towards the front, moving slow and cautious. The scarlet lights rain down from the sky again, and from your spot against the glass, you see the aftermath of multicolored firework displays.

Once you realize what the origin of the explosion is, a grin spreads across your face. Your fingers lace with Jungkook's, and you tug him towards the supply closet from where you came hours prior.

"C'mon!" you cheer. "The snow's stopped, and we gotta get a better view."

"Where?" your best friend inquires, though he allows you to tug him along behind you.

"The roof! Follow me, I think I can get to it from the attic!"

The Busan native follows you without question. Your hand in his, the pair of you trek across the supermarket, into the supplies closet, and back up the ladder into the attic space. You recall Yoongi telling you at one point that there was an entrance to the roof somewhere inside.

Upon entering the connecting space above the stores, you're met with the familiar chill and darkness. Jungkook utilizes the flashlight on his cellphone without you having to ask. Trudging along, you find the entrance to the roof in less than a minute. The door is small and hardly recognizable but thankfully unlocked. 

Pushing through, you and your companion land on a long rooftop that gives a gorgeous view of downtown Seoul. The snow has stopped falling, and the storm has moved on in the direction of the Yellow Sea. Every rooftop, every building, every street is covered in white. But slowly, as if Itaewon-dong is awakening after a winter slumber, lights reappear. Flares, lanterns, fireworks: the city comes to life before your eyes. Hues of gold and scarlet contrast beautifully against the porcelain. 

Another firework bounds into the air, originating from the hill near Namsan Tower. You tug on Jungkook's hand, nodding towards the edge of the building. "C'mon, let's get a closer look."

Leaning against the edge of the building, arms propped against the railing, you turn your gaze upwards as a third round of fireworks shower the sky with warm colors. Jungkook stands beside you, hand still over yours on the brick ledge. The temperature is still around freezing, but you hardly mind. But you have a sweatshirt and blanket wrapped around you, and your concern shifts to your best friend.

"Are you cold?" you ask, looking over at him.

His breath comes out in vague clouds, but he's smiling as he shakes his head. "Nope."

"Are you lying?"

"Maybe..."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you shrug the blanket from your shoulders and drape it over him, covering his head and shoulders with ease. Jungkook tries to push it back into your grasp, but you give him a scowl and state, "Don't give me that, Gym Bunny. I have a sweatshirt. All you have is that jacket, and it's hardly meant for snow. I'm perfectly warm—"

To your surprise, Jungkook grabs the edges of the blanket in both hands, moves to stand behind you, and wraps his arms around your middle. The blanket acts as a cocoon of body heat as he sets his chin on your shoulder and pulls you back into him. "How about this, then?"

Stammering over your words, you try to hide your blush by turning back to focus on the fireworks. "Yeah, that works, I guess."

You can feel him smirking against your shoulder as Jungkook takes your affirmation as a signal to relax against you. He's fully aware at how his back-hugs shut you up, and he's completely willing to use them to his advantage. 

"Happy New Year, [Y/n]," he murmurs after a few minutes of silence.

Tugging the blanket tighter around you both, a small smile slips onto your face. You've never been one to believe in Lunar New Year miracles, the ones your grandmother told you about when you were small, but with Jungkook this close to you, you can't help but stand in awe and wonder at the butterflies in your stomach. 

"For what it's worth, you don't have to tell me anything," you add, trying to hide the tender and sensitive heart you're nurturing. "I know you'll share when you're ready, and I hope you didn't feel like I was pressuring you."

Jungkook shakes his head, chin brushing against your sweatshirt. "I never thought that." 

"Oh? Good..." You heave a sigh. "Must be some girl."

"She is," he admits. "And it's not that I don't want to tell you. I just..."

Shaking your head, you reach your hand up and back to pat the top of his head without turning around. "You don't have to say anything. Let's...Let's just watch the fireworks, yeah?"

Jungkook doesn't respond verbally, but the way his arms tighten around your center lets you know he's heard you. 

"Happy New Year, Jungkookie."

In that moment, under the fireworks, you conclude that it doesn't matter who this girl is. As long as you have him in your life—no matter the role—you're content. You can live with being best friends if it means he's happy. That means more to you than the feelings you push down, and you'll always put his joy above yours.

Because if there's one thing that Jungkook has always been, it's your closest friend, your partner in crime, your one constant thing. Ever since you two met, he's always been bunny smiles, shining eyes, and pure of heart. He's always been there, at the edge of your vision, peripheral and steadfast—like the fireworks exploding in the corners of your eyes.

Taglist — @kooala

The Virtuoso: Chapter 1

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Despite my better judgement, I decided to let the woman who attacked me live. She told me her name was Zara. I thought that was a stupid name.

I told her that, too.

She wasn't pleased, but what could she do about it? I had already made it pretty clear that the only reason she was alive was because of...I don't know, some sense of whimsy. Regardless, I was sure that I wouldn't see much of her in the future. It wasn't like I seemed like the type to run a gang, so she had no reason to bother me in the future with some strange desire to suck up to me.

Or at least I hoped not. The concept seemed like a lot of effort.

Now I was regretting not killing her. Those thoughts weighing heavily on me, I set about figuring out exactly how Meteor City worked in the first place.

It didn't take long for me to make a name for myself. Zara helped, actually. Immediately after I let her go she started spreading rumors about some "demon child."

I took a great deal of offense to that nickname.

I was 15 years old. I wasn't a child.

Meteor City was awful. Practically lawless. Dangerous. And yet...aside from a few big names I had to avoid, I found myself flourishing there.

Old habits died hard. Soon after my arrival people started coming to me to 'take care of' their problems. It seemed I was an assassin wherever I went. I had almost the finest amenities that Meteor City had to offer, which was admittedly not much.

We had no plumbing. Disease ran rampant. I threw an excrement bucket on someone's head for fun. There were some water sources, of course. But...well. They weren't exactly filtered.

I set myself up a decent base by one such water source. I threw the previous occupants out back.

I was starting to get settled into my new life of misery when I woke up one morning to find my violin missing.

My violin.

The only gift my grandfather ever gave me.

The only thing that brought me an ounce of comfort.

My most cherished possession.

The only thing that was keeping me sane in this hellhole.

I had to find it.

-

-

-

I had left a trail of blood behind me. Finally I stood in front of one of the only places I had actively avoided in Meteor City. It was a large building by Meteor City standards, but it was still pretty small.

HQ of the so called Spiders. They were an up and coming gang that was already gaining some sway in the City due to their strength. The trail of bodies led me here. I hesitated for only a moment before barging into their HQ. I needed my violin.

Desperately.

"Where is it." I called out in a monotonous tone.

"Where's what?" Some guy in a dark outfit responded. He was currently lounging on a beat up couch, reading a book. He barely spared me a second glance.

"My violin." I deadpanned. Now he looked at me. Both of us seemed to have the same dead-eyed expression.

"I don't have it."

"Bullshit."

"Tch." He then turned his attention back to his book. I narrowed my eyes at him, my mind running a million miles a minute. He wasn't the only one here, that much I knew. It would be stupid for me to attack him, even if I could beat him in a one on one fight, which I wasn't even certain I could do.

"Where's your boss?" I asked.

"Upstairs." He responded, turning a page.

I pursed my lips at him before turning away and quickly finding a stairwell.

'I can tell we'll never get along. I hate that boy.'

I remained alert as I trekked up the stairs. Who knew what they would try to throw at me-

I dodged out of the way of what I could only assume was a giant. "What the hell?!" I exclaimed before quickly reschooling my expression.

"Ha!!! You're fast" Some insane man with an afro exclaimed, grinning at me. It looked like he was wearing fur? For pants?

"Um-" I started, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

"Less talking!" And with that, he ran at me again. I managed to move out of his way again, despite being in a stairwell.

"Why are we fighting?!" I exclaimed, frantically dodging.

"Why aren't you fighting!?!" The man exclaimed. He looked fucking feral!

"I'm not in the habit of fighting animals!" I retorted before narrowing my eyes. 'I'm not in the habit of dying, either.' With that thought in mind, I reached over my shoulder and pulled a ridiculously decorated dagger out of thin air.

'Killua's dagger.' I thought, unable to stop the flash of bitterness, or the shame that came immediately after.

Somehow his grin became even more feral as he charged at me again. I would really prefer to come at him from a distance, but I was in close quarters. I didn't have much of a choice.

This time I met his swing with my dagger, which extended in length a bit. I managed to deflect his blow so that my dagger was now pushing into his forearm. Strangely enough, it didn't cut him. It didn't take long to realize that I wouldn't be able to meet him blow for blow. His own brute strength far outweighed my own.

I pushed myself off of him and pivoted to the side, leaving him to crash into the wall as I took off up the rest of the stairs.

"Hey, get back here!" He shouted.

"No! You're like 40 years old, I'm not fighting you!" I shouted back. He actually only looked about 19, 20 at the most. I didn't know why I said that.

My eyes were wide as I kept running. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that my father would be ashamed of me for showing fear, so I schooled my expression.

"HEY YOU BRAT!" I heard him shout. I entered a hall and kept running straight ahead before crashing through the door. In hindsight I could have just opened it, but it looked like I could just break it, so why not. There was a man with dark hair and dark eyes sitting at a desk calmly.

He had a disarming smile on his face as he regarded me. His hair was straight and free of fly aways, but he had shaggy bangs. It led me to believe that he put a bit of care into his appearance, despite the fact that we lived somewhere that modern amenities were practically non-existent. I quickly drew my eyes away from his face to the top of his desk. Sitting there, in plain sight, was my violin case.

My mouth twitched towards a scowl before stilling as I marched up to the desk. "That belongs to me."

His expression didn't change from the very vision of tranquility that it was. "It didn't take you long to get here."

I snatched the case and narrowed my eyes at him. "Never take my things."

"I gave it back." He replied. It was pissing me off that he looked so nonplussed about all of this.

I closed my eyes for a second, my eyebrows twitching. "I took it back."

"If I wanted to keep it, I could have."

I kept my eyes closed. I was well aware of the fact that I was in danger. I couldn't take on all of these people.

I couldn't see them all, sure, but I was well aware of their presence. Yet another reason for me to keep my expression as still as possible.

"I believe that." I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "So what do you want?"

"Just to say hello." He responded.

I inhaled sharply. "Hello."

I hate him.

-

-

-

That wasn't the last time I saw Chrollo Lucilfer, as I later learned was his name. It wasn't the last time I saw any of the three members I had seen that day.

Chrollo I found lounging by one of the cleanest water sources we had, reading a book that I recognized from a glance. It was one of my absolute favorites. Before I realized was I was doing, I was approaching him and taking a seat next to him.

"Hello Ivela." He greeted, turning a page.

"Do you like that book?" I asked, not bothering to return his greeting.

"I wouldn't be reading it if I didn't."

I bristled, but calmed myself. It was a fair answer.

I kept sitting there in silence for a moment, trying to think of what to say. On one hand, I wasn't here to make friends. On the other, I had never seen anybody else reading that book, and my family certainly never discussed literature with me.

Chrollo, to his credit, didn't push me to either carry on the conversation or leave him alone. He just kept reading his book, either unbothered by my presence or patiently waiting for me to say something else.

"It's one of my favorites." I finally spoke, breaking the silence. The water was suddenly extremely interesting to me as I ran my hands through the dirt. "Have you finished it yet?"

"Yes. I'm rereading it." He replied. I felt his gaze finally land on me. "I'm curious, what did you think of-"

We talked about that book for hours that day. The two of us had, apparently, lost track of time. I stared after his retreating form with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't bad company to keep after all.

I found the bad mannered guy when I followed the sound of blood curdling screams coming from somewhere nearby. Normally I wouldn't care about screams, but this one seemed somehow worse than usual.

When I found the source of the screams, it turned out to be the bad mannered guy from the Phantom Troupe building torturing someone who I didn't recognize.

I turned to walk away, deciding it was none of my business, when I noticed where he was cutting.

"It'll hurt more if you cut about an inch to the right." I stated. My expression remained neutral.

He said nothing, but, out of curiosity perhaps, did as I recommended. He was rewarded with louder screams.

The dead-eyed guy turned to look at me. Years of reading the members of my own family's expressions made it child's play to understand his unspoken question.

"You were just shy of hitting a group of nerve endings." I explained.

He regarded me for a moment. "I'm Feitan."

I nodded in response. "Ivela."

As it turned out, he knew some things about torture that I was unfamiliar with. We spent the day swapping techniques.

The barbarian actually found me. I was walking, scavenging for food when he chucked a beer can at my head. I caught it, of course. It took a second to register that he wasn't attacking me.

"Ivela! Have a drink with us!" The barbarian offered. He was accompanied by a tall man with a sword at his side.

I blinked. "I'm underage."

They laughed. "There's no laws here! Come on!" It was the tall one who spoke.

"Didn't you try to kill me?" I asked, still staring at the can.

"Pfffft. I wasn't tryna kill you!" The barbarian defended.

"Whatever." I said with a sigh. After a moment's debate, I popped open the can and chugged it down.

"Yeah! She's not a wuss!" One of them cheered.

The side of my mouth twitched. "It would take a lot more than that to get me drunk." Or even buzzed.

"Oh, I like this one. Come on, let's go drink some more!"

I found out the barbarian's name was Uvogin, and the tall one's name was Nobunaga. They were both incredibly irresponsible....but kind of fun to be around. I didn't mind drinking with them.

Apparently I was destined to keep running into members of the phantom troupe. The next one to approach me was a blonde woman with an odd nose in smart business attire. Something about her put me at ease. For a second.

I berated myself and raised my guard back up. Anyone who immediately makes you feel safe is probably out to kill you.

"Do you want something?" I asked her.

"I'm Pakunoda." She introduced. "I'm a member of the Phantom Troupe."

"Another one of you?" I muttered. "Are you all following me around for any particular reason?"

"We all have our own reasons." She deflected. "Mine is that I'm a fan of classical music."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I couldn't tell if she was lying or not.

"I'm not lying. Would you play something for me?" She requested.

I opened my mouth to tell her to get lost before I shut it. Had anyone ever asked me to play for them before?

I wasn't sure. I didn't think so. Why would she be interested in my music. Was she plotting something?

She had to be.

"Not today." I muttered, before walking away.

Pakunoda was persistent. She seemed to really want to hear me play. Or she was determined to kill me. I honestly wasn't sure which. Eventually, I caved and played for her. She didn't try anything, but I still didn't trust her.

It wasn't the last time she asked me to play for her. She seemed oddly fond of my music. I found myself looking forward to her asking me to play. It felt right to perform.

The last member I met was a girl about my age. Machi. She approached me out of the blue one day and started talking to me about random nonsense. I wasn't sure about her. But, I did find her easy to talk to. We seemed to have a lot in common. Probably because of our age. And our less than orthodox upbringings, respectively.

I stared at her one day. "Do you think I should dye my hair pink?" I wasn't sure what had made me want to do it, but I was tempted.

"What? Why?" She asked incredulously. She had been mid sentence when I interrupted her.

I shrugged in response.

"Also were you even listening to me?!"

I smirked sardonically at her in response.

-

-

-

Some time passes with me spending more and more time with the Troupe members. I didn't like them, of course, and they weren't my friends. I was just passing the time. Using them for entertainment. And because they were strong, it helped to be known as a friend of theirs's.

As I pondered on the fact that none of them were my friends and I wasn't fond of any of them, it occurred to me that I hadn't talked to Nobunaga in a while. That wouldn't do.

So I set off to go find him.

I was a pretty good tracker, so it didn't take me much time to find him. He seemed to be practicing his swordplay by himself.

"I could spar with you." I heard myself offer.

He stilled and regarded me with a hardened expression. "Do you even know anything about swords?"

"I know plenty." I responded. I was at least proficient with most weapons due to my upbringing. An assassin needs to know how to use any weapon available to them.

"Well then. Here!" And just like that, he tossed an unsheathed blade at me. I had no idea where he got it from, but I didn't have time to question it. No sooner had I caught it then he charged at me.

I blocked his swing, and we spent some time dancing around each other, steel clashing against steel. It was surprisingly fun.

I was holding my own just fine, but it was clear he was more talented with a blade than I was. I was constantly on the defensive. I managed to attack a few times, sure, but goddamn he was on a different level with his sword. It was honestly quite impressive.

I wondered how we would fare against each other in a nen battle. I almost wanted to try.

When the fight ended, it was because I was on my ass.

He was laughing. He was laughing at me.

I felt my face redden as my hands clenched into fists.

"Hey, don't be angry! You're great! Who taught you?" He asked as I stood up.

I was stunned. "You were laughing...because you were impressed?" That didn't make any sense.

"Yeah!" He replied.

"Uh." I was at a loss. "My...father and grandfather mostly handled my training." None of this made any sense. He was praising me for losing?

"They must be good." Nobunaga said. "I'd love to fight them."

I shifted my weight back and forth between my feet. "I think you'd die?" I told him. "They're, uh, assassins."

"You're an assassin?!" He exclaimed. I nodded at him, my hands fidgeting. He calmed down and paused. "Hm. That explains a lot."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I wasn't sure why I felt relieved. "Yeah. That's why I've had so much training."

"You and I should fight again sometime. Go ahead and keep that sword!" He offered with a disarming smile.

I tilted my head to the side slightly. "It's...a gift?"

"Yeah! Make sure to use it!"

I looked down at the sword in my hands, unable to comprehend him giving me a gift. I didn't expect to ever get any more gifts after being banished. I would make good use of it.

I always made good use of gifts.

A/N

Buckle up guys, we're gonna be in Meteor City for a while.

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 3

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischevious Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

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You aren’t awakened by the sun, or by the sound of your alarm clock—set to wake you up just in time to get ready, have some breakfast, and then go and help Jin with the pond. Instead, this morning, you’re pulled from your strange dreams to the sound of birdsong. Not just any bird song, you realize groggily as you come to. The melody from the woods, specifically. You sit up in bed, rubbing at your eyes and yawning, casting a glance out your window. Sure enough, there it sits, perched upon a branch just beside the window. A tiny, pink bird. When it sees you arise, it shuffles, and repeats its song. You stare at it. There’s no way the bird followed you all the way here from the forest. There’s no reason for this one particular bird to be following you at all. As you stare, the song trails off and eventually the bird flutters its wings, head cocking. It droops comically, its whole, round body visibly shrinking. You repeat the song hastily, whistling the tune back, struck by the sudden fear you’ll hurt its feelings if you don’t. It almost immediately brightens and continues, chirping louder as you get up from the bed and move towards the kitchen. You hear it throughout the house as you get ready for the day and, not that it’s a bad song or an annoying one, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious how not normal it is to be so thoroughly serenaded by a bird. You aren’t sure you’re fully convinced by the strange librarian yet, with his ‘Keprys’ and such, but maybe he’s right about one thing—there are definitely things going on in this town that are beyond the pale. Clutching your purse, a handful of money shoved into it to try and pay for the book, you make your way outside. Maybe you can hit the library before you go to see Jin.

As you pass by the lavender, you pause, blinking at it. It’s…begun to wilt. Is it maybe not the season for it anymore? You reach out a hand to caress the fading purple flowers, feeling guilty for the dried pieces that come away with your fingers. It still smells lovely, though, and at an afterthought, you reach to the bag around your neck, taking a moment just to inhale the combination of cinnamon, autumn, and now lavender. Heavenly. A gentle smile curves your lips and you allow it, pressing on. When you come back, you’ll do something about it, you decide resolutely. The beauty of Granny’s beloved garden will not fade on your watch.

The second you get close to the fence, there’s an excited snuffle and you spot a tiny snout appearing around the bushes to the front. You can also see the fur waving in the air as the small dog from yesterday wags its tail like a thing possessed. Does it think it’s hiding?.. As you go to open the gate, you can hear it making small noises like it just can’t contain how terribly happy it is to see you again. It almost bowls you over in desperation when you finally unlatch the door and step out. You try to console it and walk past it in turn, but the way it weaves and bounces between your legs is making that very difficult. Eventually it settles for jittering impatiently by your side as you walk, occasionally yipping when your hand finds itself anywhere else but stroking through its warm fur. A strange way to spend your morning, for sure, but you don’t mind the company while you trek to the library.

The dog follows you, of course, tail bouncing congenially with every step. On the steps of the library you stop and turn towards it.

“Listen,” you warn, as it looks adoringly up at you with eyes slightly crossed from focusing too hard on you. “You can’t come in the library.”

Perhaps sensing that you’re going to abandon it again, it snuffles and whines.

“But,” you add quickly, “I’ll be right back out and we can spend time together then. I’m sure Jin won’t mind you at his pond.”

It snorts, and the force of it makes it take a step backwards, small paws dancing, but it’s still looking at you rather doubtfully. It huffs a quiet bark and you chuckle at the way it searches your eyes. Just like an argumentative child.

“I promise. I swear. Please don’t scream.”

It blinks, licks its chops and leaves its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. When it moves to sit, it’s with a weary sigh and additional whine, throwing all of its 10 pounds to the cobbles like the world is just too heavy on its shoulders. You giggle, turning up the stairs and peeking back at the door to see if its followed. But no, still sitting. Ears down, whimpering under its breath to itself. You’re left wondering once again whether there’s something wrong with the animals in this town as you push open the front doors and step inside.

 The library is just as quiet, just as empty as it was the last time you were in it.

“Hello?”

“Hello.” You almost shout, but manage to choke off the end of it, whirling about to glare at the librarian. Once again, he’d somehow managed to move with all the noise of a phantom, appearing behind you out of nowhere. He smirks at your scandalized expression and chuckles when you point at him accusingly.

“You. You have got to stop doing that.”

“No way,” his eyebrows rise, lips curving into a pout. “You need to start paying better attention to your surroundings.”

“I could pay better attention to you if you were wearing a bell or something.” You huff, beginning to dig through your purse to retrieve the handful of money you’d stuffed in there, pulling it out as a handful.

“…And ruin the fun?” He glances down at the cash in your hand, but makes no move to acknowledge it.

“For the book,” you clarify after an awkward second, holding it out to him. “About faeries and stuff.”

“Did I convince you already?”

“No…but I’ve noticed some real weird stuff going on in this town and I want to cover my bases. Just in case you aren’t totally nuts.”

 He hums non-committedly. He meets your gaze and doesn’t look back down, even as you wiggle your outstretched arm to try and catch his attention again.

“That’s not going to cut it,” he says finally.

You balk. “What do you mean ‘that’s not going to cut it’—what is it, covered in gold leaf??”

“I mean what I said. I don’t want a bunch of paper.”

“Look, mister—“

“I said something of value.” “Money has value.”

“Only the value you give it.”

You drop your arm with an exasperated groan, rolling your eyes ceiling-ward. “Are you going to tell me the real book is the friends I made along the way? Because I really could be doing something better with my time.”

“I’m going to tell you the real book is very valuable to me,” He says instead. His tone is surprisingly sharp and you’re actually spellbound at the intense look he’s serving you. His eyes are so dark, so deep, you can almost see yourself in them. “If you want it, you have to barter something of equal value.”

After a moment, he speaks again, but softer, his hypnotic hold on you slipping away. “I can’t afford to replace it. I just don’t want anything happening to it.”

You hesitate.

“Okay. Something of equal value. Something that means a lot to me.”

“Yes.”

“Collateral.”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls so you can peer at him in disbelief. He’s fighting a small smile that’s growing in the corners of his mouth, but there’s still something unreadable in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

He shrugs. “I’ve read it several times. If you have any questions about Keprys, you can always ask me.”

“Well…okay, so…So, there’s some weird stuff happening to me lately. Weird animals.”

“Right.” You try to gauge whether or not he believes you, but his mild expression tells you only that he’s listening.

“There’s a bird that followed me from the forest. I woke up to it singing to me, like this one little song. It got…disappointed when I didn’t whistle it back? And-and there’s a dog. It looks like it’s taken care of, but it’s following me around too now and always wants attention. I guess that doesn’t really sound all that odd,” you add hastily, interpreting the stony look on his face as him getting bored with you already. “I’m not phrasing it right, but it, I mean, it just feels odd. Like they shouldn’t be acting like that. Oh! There also was—um,” You pull at the bag around your neck, taking out the fragrant stick from inside and holding it out in the middle of your palm. His gaze flicks down to it, but he doesn’t move otherwise, seemingly frozen in place as he stares. “There was a cat. And I, uh, I fed it and let it stay the night and in the morning it was gone—even though I locked everything up. And it left this stick behind. I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I swear—“

“It’s a totem.”

“A what.”

He moves like he’s going to take it from you, but his hand retreats with a jerk and he slides both of them into his pockets, taking a step back instead, eyeing your hand as warily as if you were holding a knife. “A totem. It’s the reason you keep having these run-ins. The cat was a Kepry. You did him a favor, so he left you a totem.”

“What’s the point of that…? What does it do?”

The librarian blinks, briefly looking away. “You break it, and they show up to accomplish whatever task you need help with. It’s a summoning. But it’s also why the others keep coming to you. They’re drawn to it.”

You frown. “Oh.”

“You should get rid of it.”

“What, like throw it away?? Seems kind of rude…I like the smell of it.”

“Just summon him for something small. If you keep it for much longer, weird things will keep happening to you.”

“I mean…nothing bad has happened.” You argue for reasons you aren’t sure of.

“Yet.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me, would they?”

He blinks, studying you past his glasses. There’s something in his expression, some old hurt, lurking behind his eyes. “You should get rid of it.” He repeats, slowly.

 You think of the small bird. Of the fluffy dog. The stray cat. Not exactly the most threatening creatures you’ve come across. A summoning totem could be really useful, if that’s what is. Besides, all of this hinges on this random guy telling the truth. The only real way to find out if he is or not is to get your hands on that book. If it even really exists. But, you’ll admit, this all feels very intriguing. And you don’t mind having something to do when you aren’t cleaning. A little quest. Mysterious book, mysterious librarian, weird animals. You feel like a YA novel.

“Something of value to me.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow, then. Again. I’ve got a bargain to keep today.” You say resolutely, stuffing the money back into your purse and turning. You miss the faint look of alarm on his face as you do.

“…A bargain to keep?” he echoes quietly, his voice drifting away from you as you make your way to the front door.

“Yeah, I’m helping a guy clean the pond down the road.” You reply, already trying to think of something you could trade. Something of value? It feels skeevy to consider trading something of Granny’s, but maybe you can scrounge up something small and convincing as collateral. You’ll look through your suitcase later.

“Wait—“

You’re already out the door, making your way down the stairs. Halfway down, you look over your shoulder, up at the building, but whatever it was that required your attention must not have been that important because the librarian hasn’t followed you out. You purse your lips and shrug.

The small dog out in the front is still sitting there, but the minute you come back into view, it’s popped up animatedly, tail wagging, tongue lolling, panting and yipping breathlessly. It won’t allow you more than a few paces before you have to pet it to stop it from weaving around your feet.

 You’re struck by disappointment when you reach the pond and don’t see the man from yesterday. Immediately followed by frustration when you realize that you’re so disappointed in not seeing him again. He’s probably busy doing something else. Not like he owes you his appearance. Besides, he said ‘tomorrow’—didn’t specify when. Maybe you’re just early. Overeager. As you muse on this, the small dog by your legs falls silent. It keeps walking in front of you, laying its body against your shins as if to herd you back home. It dodges your attempts to pet its head, intent on keeping a strict eye on the smooth surface of the pond. You see why a few seconds later. Underneath the bridge, gliding across the water with a gentle motion like it was floating on air, a swan passes by through the pond. It doesn’t look directly at you, but the way its wings flutter as you watch gives you the impression it’s not any less aware of your presence.

Now, if there was anything in this town that could convince you of magic and otherworldly creatures, this would be it. You feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at it, it’s so beautiful. Even with the disrepair of the pond and the bridge around it, it’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen. The light catches its pristine feathers, its delicate neck, the impenetrable coal of its eyes. It looks like a painting. As it drifts past, the fur on the dog’s back rises slowly, and a deep sound echoes within its small body. It’s growling at the swan, stiffly standing between you as firmly as though it were made of stone. It only gets worse when the swan curves towards you and comes closer. You try petting the dog more, coax it into relaxing, but it won’t be moved, and it doesn’t stop the constant, low rumbling in its throat until the swan has begun to float peacefully, if reproachfully, to the other side of the pond instead of approaching you.

“Aw, come on, puppy,” you chastise. “It didn’t mean any harm. If it was angry, it would hiss. Swans hiss when they’re angry,” you add, unsure of why you feel the need to explain swan behavior to a dog. “Or afraid. It didn’t look scared of me, though. Probably been here for a long time. Used to people. Maybe it’s used to being fed.”

You pause, watching the swan glide towards the opposite bank, barely even pulling any ripples from the water.

“Maybe I could bring some food for it. Do you think Jin would mind?”

The dog whines, sneezes, and bounces once, still glaring out over the water at the retreating water fowl. Finally satisfied with the distance between you and the bird, it spins and offers you a snuffle and a quiet yap, tail picking up a proud wag once more. You sigh, but reward it with a few gentle strokes anyways. For whatever reason, it was trying to protect you from something unfamiliar and you can’t really fault it for that.

You stand and cast another look about, but still you don’t see the man from yesterday. He probably isn’t even up yet. What time is it? You’re shocked to realize that you aren’t even sure. Time seems to have less meaning in this town, you’ve noticed.

You decide after a beat to visit back here after you’ve tended the garden. You aren’t one to go back on your word, after all, but you can’t just sit here all morning either. Maybe you’ll bring lunch. Sneak in a slice of bread or two for the swan? The dog will have to stay somewhere else. You aren’t sure how you’re going to manage that.

You cast it a sideways glance as you go to walk back down the path, but it’s just as happy to meet your gaze as ever, panting and jittering in mounting excitement when it realizes you’re looking back. You stifle a laugh at the adoration in its slightly crossed eyes.

As you turn the corner to make your way up to the cottage, you realize that there’s someone standing inside of the fence. You can’t see their face, but catch glimpses of faded pink and purple-ish hair as it bobs about your garden. You blink, confused and a little wary, stepping to the gate. The dog at your feet immediately bristles, growling again, louder. Strangely enough, you feel a little grateful for its’ protective company now as you stare at the stranger yanking at your granny’s flower bushes. It’s a man. Long-limbed and lithe, he reaches thin fingers towards a rose and snaps the head off, discarding the blossom to the ground.

“Hey!” you start, suddenly indignant, throwing the gate open and stepping inside. The dog immediately melts into a cacophony of shrieking barks, and you have to raise your voice to be heard. “Excuse me!”

The stranger pauses, swivels to rise to his full height and casts you a perfunctory glance. “You’re excused?” he offers, brows rising. His features are so finely chiseled, high cheekbones, delicate lips, and soft eyes that glitter in the sun.

“Who do you think you are?”

The dog continues to bark loudly in the background, occasionally stopping to gather its breath.

The man blinks, as though surprised by the question. It takes him a moment to reply. “I’m the gardener. Or, I was.” He looks back to the flowers and sniffs once, shaking his head. “The contract is over, I guess.” He mumbles.

“You didn’t hear? She…she’s dead. My grandmother.” He doesn’t react, so you quickly reiterate, “The owner of the house.”

He hesitates again and looks at you, something stirring in his eyes that you can’t quite understand. “…I’m sorry…for your loss.” He adds after a beat, as if unsure it’s the right thing to say.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The uncomfortable quiet that attempts to settle between you is broken when the pup begins howling. You have to stifle an exasperated laugh.

“I’m gonna guess he found you, then.” The stranger puts in, inclining his head towards the gate.

“What do you mean?”

“Taehyung.”

“Is that his name?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. ‘Taehyung’ wheezes, trying to yap pointedly at you but seemingly going hoarse. He bounces forward, head nodding towards the ground passionately, and that’s when you notice that the gate isn’t even closed properly. Probably best that he doesn’t seem to realize, or else he might do something to the ‘gardener’. At present, you aren’t sure you’d stop him.  

You turn back to the man in question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Um, so. Like I was going to say, she passed away. The house is mine, now, I guess, for as long as I want it.” “Is that right?” He doesn’t seem particularly interested.

“I don’t have a lot of money. To keep your services, I mean. For the garden.”

He only watches you as you attempt to stammer your way through a halfway decent explanation, growing steadily less and less coherent under his gaze.

“Just, please don’t…destroy it? I don’t really understand why you would do that.”

“I don’t appreciate being conned.” Is his terse reply.

“I’m sorry?” You’re a little taken aback by his coldness. “I mean, like I said, she…my grandmother died. If you think got the short end of the stick, I…I’d like to know if I can make it up to you maybe? If that’s how you feel?”

He pulls a thoughtful expression, lips pursing, eyes flicking skyward. By the gate, Taehyung sneezes and hacks once, then resumes his tirade with renewed energy.

“If you can make my time up to me, then I’ll work for you.” The gardener says finally. “If you still want my services. If not, the contract needs to be dissolved and I’m taking the plants with me.”

“Uh, alright.” You blink. It seems a solid enough argument, coming as it is from a man that waltzed into your yard and started ripping the heads off roses. “That…I guess that’s fair. Honestly, I’d prefer if granny’s garden stayed as beautiful as I’ve always remembered it, and well…I don’t exactly know what I’m doing with flowers.”

His face breaks out into a smile at that, eyes glittering. “You liked it?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s always been so gorgeous, even as a kid, I loved playing in it.”

“You don’t remember Taehyung, but you remember my garden?”

“…I’m sorry?” You peer at him curiously.

His grin grows wider, and he breaks into a laugh that squishes his cheeks, shoulders quaking, hand coming to hide his mouth behind his knuckles. “He won’t forgive you, you know. But I’ll take it. I’m glad you remember my garden so fondly. Just for that, I’ll give you a day to decide what you want to do with the contract.”

“That’s…nice of you.” There’s some weird energy going on with this guy. You aren’t sure what it is, or what it means for you. He moves to turn away and you start, straightening.

“W-wait! You didn’t give me your name.”

“I didn’t.” He cocks his head, still grinning absently.

“…What is it?”

He smiles at you, and it’s like he’s trapped the sun behind his teeth, lighting up his entire face. “Hoseok. You can call me Hoseok.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to see you again.”

 You’re so busy trying to unpack that statement that you don’t even react, really, when he goes to step towards the gate, until you realize that Taehyung is visibly bristling and snarling over by the door. You rush forward quickly, mind spinning with visions of ankle mauling, gathering the small dog in your arms and stepping out of the garden, to the side to allow Hoseok to pass. He’s heavier than he looks; solid, warm, and softer than you could imagine. He smells…oddly sweet. Clean, fresh, warm. Like honey. He struggles, yipping in a high pitch, but suddenly goes completely limp in your grasp. You look away from the gardener to stare at Taehyung, shifting his weight to turn him around. Did you…did you hurt him? He has his eyes closed, paws in a resting position in front of his chest. Part of you panics. Did you pick him up too fast? Are little dogs really that delicate? But no…no, he’s breathing. He’s just…sleeping? Or maybe just content? You can see him blinking underneath his eyelids. Under your incredulous gaze, a tear rolls out from his eye and his entire body shudders with a weary sigh. He’s not hurt. He seems to be basking in the sheer amount of contact you’re affording him. You snort. Typical. You should have guessed.

When you look up, Hoseok is gone. He must have better things to do than hang around and get threatened by small animals.

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The Non-Royal Romance, part eight

past parts:  one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

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This one is pretty long sorry lol

-The night following the Fox Hunt: Alana’s perspective-

As much as I love horseback riding, it really kicks my ass sometimes. After our feast in the lush mountains surrounded by ancient ruins, we endured the rocky trek home. As we descend the trail, my mind is clouded over with insecure and jealous thoughts, nodding absentmindedly as some suitor talks to me. I was determined to immediately dislike the beautiful woman talking to the man I like very much, but she was so nice. It makes it so much harder to hate her because she was clearly flirting with Drake. I haven't been through those kinds of pangs of jealousy before, but I can say with certainty that it sucks. It’s not like I have a right to be jealous, Drake and I aren’t in a relationship, we don’t have any obligations to each other, yet when I saw him with her all I could think about was how pretty she was and how much he probably likes her and how much I wished it was me who was smiling and laughing with him in public. I thought it was just a harmless crush, but it feels like so much more than that now.

Over the past weeks, I assumed Drake was just talking to some guy over his earpiece, not a gorgeous woman. All my childhood insecurities come flooding back and all I can do is stare forward as we make our way down the mountain, demanding myself not to cry. Not only do I feel distanced because of what happened with Drake when he had those night terrors but now he isn’t my personal bodyguard anymore and we barely talk. it’s too much. I didn’t realize how much I care for him until now.

Eventually, we arrive at the Applewood manor and the nobles and suitors find their way to their bedrooms for the night, some waddling uncomfortably. I drop down from Mac and someone comes up to lead him back into the stables. I brush myself off and look up, surprised as I see Drake standing in front of me. “Oh! Drake, hey” I say awkwardly and he smiles. “Princess, I’ll be escorting you to your room tonight.” He says and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “We had some trouble with some equipment and Silverman was needed for an hour or so, so I volunteered to take you to your room. Shortly after Silverman should be back at your door,” Drake explains, and I nod, quietly celebrating in my head. We walk in the large manor, our footsteps echoing off the walls. The two of us make our way through the tall hallways, a slightly awkward silence hanging before I break it. “Hey, Mage was really nice, have you known her long?” I ask, and Drake smiles fondly, warm light from the chandelier above us casting a soft shadow across his sharp features. My heart breaks just a bit more. “Yeah she’s great, we’ve known each other for a while, we became friends when we were in training together for the service. Even though she is focused on tech, we had the same basic training,” Drake tells me, and I nod along, looking down at my muddy riding boots.

“So, have you guys ever...?” I question him, my heart hammering. Drake looks at me for a moment before he understands what I’m saying. “Oh!” He laughs. 

laughs. 

“No! No, we have not- or will ever- no.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Why not? I mean, she’s very beautiful and you are handsome and- and why not?” I stutter, my face burning at my rambling words. Drake just smiles, “I’m pretty sure I’m not her type,” He shrugs simply, looking forward. I scoff, “How are you not her type?” I blurt out before I can even filter it from my falling out of my mouth. I gulp nervously and sneak a glance at him but he just chuckles that wonderfully sexy chuckle. “I’m not her type because I’m a man,” he says amusedly, and my mouth forms a little ‘o’ in realization. Suddenly my heart feels a whole lot lighter. “Oh! Well yes, that’s a valid reason,” I laugh and Drake chuckles. Yep, there is no way I could dislike Mage.

We walk up the last set of wooden stairs and finally arrive at my bedroom door. Our footsteps slow and eventually stop. I turn to look up at him. We stare at each other for a moment in silence, the only sound being the rain beginning to patter against the panes of the windows beside us. Our gazes stay unbroken, and I try to tell him it all through my eyes. How I was so jealous for no reason, how I am positive I won't fall for any suitor, and how badly I want to kiss him until I can't breathe. Drake suddenly looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey uh I have to run, but Silverman should be here soon,” Drake says, and I nod. “Thank you, Drake, it was like the good old times,” I say with a slightly pained smile. He smiles back with the same expression and a nod, before walking away. I step into my room tiredly, planning on climbing into bed and thinking about Drake for a couple of hours before drifting off.

I sigh, closing the door behind me and locking it. I make my way over to my dresser eagerly, ready to get out of this stupid riding outfit. Relief washes over me as I relieve my poor feet of my god awful boots. I smile to myself as I fold my jacket up. Drake and Mage weren’t flirting. I know it’s stupid, but the idea of Drake being with anyone else makes me feel sick. I remove my shirt and riding pants, leaving me in my underwear. As I rummage through my suitcase for my pajamas, I notice a yellow sliver of light grow on the wall in front of me and hear the creak of my door opening. I whip around, covering myself up in instinct.

There stands one of the suitors, Tariq I believe, staring at me with wide eyes, a key in his hand. I gasp and fumble trying to cover myself fully, my heartbeat hammering in my chest. Where is Silverman? “I knew it! We do have a connection! I was second-guessing myself but here you are in my room, undressed.” He says, his voice laced with amazement. I sputter in horror. “What, no! What are you-“ I start but he nears me hungrily. I know I can’t fight him. He is taller than me and definitely stronger. My stomach is twisted in fear, tears prickling my eyes. I wish Drake was here. “Tariq I don’t want- no-“ I start again, but he just shakes his head. “Shh, no need to speak. I understand your message loud and clear-“ he says, his voice laden with lust, and he reaches his hand to caress my arm, making me recoil in disgust, my back hitting against the rough edge of my dresser, making my perfume bottle fall and shatter on the floor. 

 “Hey! Get the hell off her!”

Tariq stops and turns, giving me the view of the doorway, but I didn't need to see him to know that it was Drake. He came. Just seeing that familiar silhouette sends a wave of relief over my body. 

Drake starts nearing Tariq, fuming. “But she’s in my room-” Tariq starts and Drake scoffs. “That's bullshit and you know it. Now get out.” Drake orders, clearly trying to stay calm, although I can tell he is the angriest I have ever seen him. “No,” Tariq says stubbornly, and in an instant they are in a full-on brawl, fighting each other. I watch in shock and partly in relief. I have never seen this type of pure anger from anyone let alone Drake. He was annoyed at me before when I was stupid while skiing, but he wasn’t like this. His face is almost animalistic as he punches Tariq square in the face. Surprisingly, Tariq gets a few good hits in, but before long, he forfeits, ducking out of Drake’s reach and running out the door. “Yeah get the hell out!” Drake shouts after him, slamming my door, breathing heavy. “Drake,” I say softly, my heart thundering in my chest, tears flowing from my eyes.

He turns and I run up and hug him. “T-thank you- I didn’t know what he was about to do,” I sob quietly. Surprisingly, Drake embraces me back, enveloping me in his body heat and making me calm down, finally feeling safe once again. I can hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest from the adrenaline. It's oddly comforting. He’s never hugged me back and although its a small thing, its the most wonderful feeling. Like when he caught me on the yacht, the way I feel at this moment, grateful, relieved, and safe. “It’s okay princess, it’s over now,” he says softly in my ear. I don't want to let go of him, but I know I have to. After a couple minutes, I gently untuck my arms from around him, stepping back and wiping at my wet eyes. He glances down at me and immediately looks away, his cheeks tinted. “Um Princess, you’re..” he says, and I look down, realizing I’m still in my underwear. “Oh! shit sorry,” I curse quietly, laughing, embarrassed. This isn't how I pictured him seeing me in my underwear for the first time. I grab one of my nightdresses and slip it own and turn around to see Drake examining his bloody knuckles.

“Drake, you’re hurt,” I say walking over to him. “ it’s not a big deal, just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing I can’t handle,” he says, brushing it off. I roll my eyes at his stupid pride. “Drake for once, just let me help you,” I plead softly and he looks at me for a moment, the harshness fading from his dark eyes, and nods silently. I grab him gently by the forearm and lead him over to sit on the edge of my four-poster bed. “Wait here,” I say, and grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. I come back and drop the kit on the bed. “Okay, give me your hands,” I order, and he complies, lifting his hands up to me reluctantly. I take his bloody, calloused hands in my smaller ones, looking at the cuts closely. After examining the extent of his knuckles, I grab some alcohol disinfectant wipes and start lightly dabbing them on his cuts. He sucks in breath dramatically. “Damn, have anything for pain in there?” He says jokingly, and I smile. “I have a bottle of whiskey,” I suggest, and he grins that wonderful grin, the one that prompts those oh so beautiful dimples, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Whiskey it is then,” I laugh fondly, reaching over and grabbing the bottle from a display on my nightstand. I hand it to him, and he glances it over with an impressed expression. He takes a swig while I clean his other hand. “Damn, that’s good,” he praises and I chuckle.

We stay in a comfortable silence as I wrap his knuckles, one hand at a time while his other holds onto the bottle of whiskey. I reluctantly let go of his warm hand and he brings it down to his side. I hate the feeling of letting him go. “Want some?” Drake offers, tilting the bottle towards me. I smile, taking the bottle. I tilt it back, taking a drink. The amber liquor burns as it runs down my throat and into my chest, settling there. I give him the bottle back to continue patching him up. I glance over the bruise on his arm that I can’t do much about, and realize he must have taken some hits to the abdomen. “Drake I need you to take your shirt off,” I say awkwardly, clearing my throat. He raises his eyebrows. “Trying to get me undressed are you Princess?” He asks jokingly, making me blush, the alcohol definitely not helping me there. Drake takes his shirt off anyway, and I see the huge bruise forming on his side. “Oh my- Drake this is a huge bruise. I didn’t realize Tariq could do that much damage to someone like you,” I say in surprise, leaning in closer to his body to inspect the red and purple stain on his skin. “Someone like me?” Drake asks.

My eyes fly up to meet his and I realize how close I am to him. I can feel the warmth of his body heat. He looks down at me expectantly. I clear my throat, backing up from him, my heartbeat quickening, trying not to think of all the ways he could look at me like that in other situations. “Uh- yeah someone who is um- well built and-“ I stutter awkwardly, but Drake just chuckles. “I’m messing with you Alana,” he says in his deep raspy voice, taking another swig of whiskey, making my stomach do a somersault. I can’t remember the last time he called me Alana, not Princess. I stand there, frozen, blinking at him. I realize how much I like hearing it come out of his mouth. God, that mouth... He notices my expression and realizes what happened and shakes his head with a sheepish smirk. “Heh. This whiskey is really hitting fast,” he says, laughing lightly. I laugh slightly with him as he places the bottle on the floor. I notice that his lip is split. “Hey- You have a split lip,” I say, and his eyes widen slightly as he brings a finger to touch his lips. “Huh. Seems like it,” he chuckles, clearly tipsy. What a lightweight. I smile.

 “Can I?” I ask, holding up a fresh wipe. He stares at me for a moment before nodding. I realize that I need to get better access to his face so I gently guide his knees apart, and step between them, coming face to face with Drake. My heart is beating hard again, this time in nervousness instead of fear. I shakingly dab his cut, acutely aware that he is staring at me. I’m nearly done when he speaks. “I’m sorry for going off at you the other night when you asked about-“ he starts but I cut him off. “Seriously don’t be sorry. If anything I should, I was the one being nosy. I’m sorry for pushing you like that,” I say genuinely, and he shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you for that, it makes sense. You wanted an explanation...I could never be mad at you,” He finishes softly, his voice low. “Except when I put myself in danger,” I chuckle, making him crack a grin. “Yeah maybe then,” He says, his eyes moving up to meet mine. 

Our faces are mere inches apart, and my breath hitches in my throat. Our smiles fade as we stare into the eyes of each other. The alcohol is coursing through my veins, making me feel lightheaded. To be honest, at this point I can't tell whether its the alcohol or him. He glances down at my lips which makes me dart my tongue out to wet them self-consciously. Thunder suddenly booms from outside, making both of us jump. I look over at the dark window and the flash of lightning outside. I glance back to Drake to see he's is staring at me in a way that makes my legs feel like jelly. He suddenly grabs my face, pulling my mouth to his. 

A noise of surprise gets stuck in my throat, and my eyes flutter closed. All I care about is the feeling of Drakes's lips and the faint taste of whiskey and blood. I’m dizzy with happiness like I’m drunk. Drunk on him. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. His arms wrap around my waist and we seem to fit together like we were meant to be here, in each other's arms. I moan softly and break our kiss to pepper open-mouthed kisses on the underside of his jaw.  “Alana,” He says in his low husky voice, which makes me sigh with content. “I love it when you say my name,” I whisper, bringing my hands up to run through that hair. God, I've wanted to do that for so long. He leans into my touch, his eyes closed. 

I kiss his lips again, and he responds, pushing back passionately, making sparks fly between us. I gasp slightly at his intensity, heat coiling in my stomach. More. More. More my head chants as we kiss, completely lost in him. His taste, his smell, his kiss. can't even process what is happening until he pulls away, and steadies me by my shoulders. I blink in confusion, and he looks at me, the most pained expression across his face. “Wha...” I mumble, searching his deep brown eyes. “Alana... I can’t. It’s not right.” He says quietly. As his words fall out his mouth my heart breaks once again. His rejection is like an electric shock, and I falter backward, away from him and his damn expression. “Shit, I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen. I don't deserve you. YOu are going to be the queen and I’m your bodyguard. Not even that! Not anymore anyway,” He mutters as he puts his shirt back on. I shake my head, tears springing to my eyes. He's not actually- “That doesn't matter,” I say bitterly, resenting my damned title once again. Drake stands up, shaking his head gently. “You know it does. It’s just not right. It's not fair to you. No matter how much I want... It just can't happen,” He insists. “What about what I want Drake?” I ask indignantly, my chest heaving. He just shakes his head again. “I’m sorry Alana. Trust me, I am,” He says, before he walks past me, and out my door. 

I stand there for a while, staring into space, in disbelief at what just happened.

----

The next morning is rough. I laid in bed for a couple minutes, replaying last night over and over, making the hole in my chest grow bigger. It was so good until it wasn't. All I know is that I can look forward to partying and forgetting it all tonight at the Beaumont Bash. I’m on my way now, early. I could use Maxwell’s smile. He always finds ways to cheer me up. I just have to decide whether I will tell him about Drake or not. 

Our car pulls up to my good friend’s home, and I force myself to stop thinking about Drake. I rush up to the front door, ringing the bell obnoxiously and wait for a couple minutes before the door swings open. Holding the door open, is Liam of all people. I widen my eyes. “Oh! Liam, how great to see you,” I say, making him grin. “Princess Alana! What a nice surprise, you’re early!” Bertrand says from behind Liam before he can speak, making me smile. “Yeah sorry, I didn't think you guys would mind, I was hoping to see Maxwell before the party,” I explain.  “Well come in, come in!” Bertrand insists, so I do, smiling at Liam as I pass by him. It's strange, Bertrand knows how the kind of friendship Maxwell and I have, yet he keeps trying his hardest to get me to choose Maxwell, despite Max’s relationship with Allie. Or the fact that I see Maxwell as my brother. It doesn't matter, either way, I couldn't choose Maxwell and do that to Allie. Or to Maxwell. 

Speaking of the devil, Maxwell appears at the top of the staircase. “Al!” He enthuses, running down the stairs to me and engulfing me in a hug. I laugh, hugging him back. “Max! It’s been like a day! Far too long!” I exclaim, and he nods, his lopsided grin on his face. He glances over my shoulder, then looks at me with a knowing look. “Hey! I uh need to finish up some things, why don't you keep Liam company until I get back?” He asks with a suggestive tone. I smile and roll my eyes at him, hidden from Liam. “Yeah totally,” I say cheerfully, turning to Liam, who grins. 

Liam and I decide to take a walk through the Beaumont vineyards, Silverman trailing a bit behind us. I bask in the warm sunlight as we walk. “This is so beautiful,” Liam comments, his voice calm. I nod. “I love it here. I can’t wait until tonight though, it will be crazy,” I laugh, making him join in. “Yeah so I have heard,” He chuckles. We walk in comfortable silence for a bit, strolling through the beautiful countryside. “You are an extraordinary person, Alana,” Liam says suddenly, making me turn to him with a surprised smile. “How so?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. He smiles, looking anywhere but me. “Well, I think you were very brave to do this whole suitor thing, as you have never even been introduced formally to the kingdom. And they already love you, by the way, Cordonia I mean, and that's just from a couple weeks. You have a way with people. You just capture the attention of everyone around you, not because you demand it, but because they feel you deserve it. We can tell how genuine you are.” Liam says, slightly sheepish. “Liam, that was beautiful. I haven't heard anyone talk about me like that before,” I smile, tucking my hair behind my ear and glancing back over to him.

“Like that! Just you doing that small thing makes me want to kiss you and give you everything I have!” Liam laughs, making me chuckle. I stop, making him look at me. “Do it then,” I say quietly, my heartbeat quickening. “D-do what?” Liam asks, his eyes slightly wide. “Kiss me,” I say with a smile. Maybe Drake was right. He and I could never work. With Liam, we wouldn't have any problems. He is a sweet guy who actually wants to be with me, he would be a great king, and I can actually choose him at the end of this and we would be happy. Liam grins and brings up his hand, gently tucking my hair back and caressing my cheek. He leans in and kisses me gently. 

no sparks.

Slightly frustrated by that, I kiss back harder. Come on... they have to appear. I need to feel something. We kiss for a moment before he pulls away with a huge grin on his face. At least he enjoyed it. “That was amazing,” Liam breathes. I smile. Maybe it will get better. If I choose him, eventually I’ll fall for him, and it should all work out. 

Right?

My phone buzzes, a text from Max. ‘Okay, you guys kissed so now give me attention’ I snort. “Creep,” I mutter, and Liam gives me a confused look. “Oh! Sorry, its Maxwell, he kind of needs me. I’ll see you later?” I ask, and Liam nods, “I hope so,” He says with a wink, making me smile before turning and going to see what Maxwell wants.

--

Maxwell meets me in his boutique, and he presents me with a dress. “Hey, I know you probably have thousands of dresses, but I really like this one and its Beaumont colors so it would look good for us if you wore it,” He says with a hopeful smile, holding up a long navy dress with silver details around the hem. Perfectly simple. “Bertrand put you up to this didn't he?” I ask amusedly, and Max smile sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. He just really wants us to look good, you know with all our financial problems and all that,” he says, looking down. That's the thing about Maxwell, he genuinely hates asking people for help when he needs it, or when Bertrand puts him up to it. “Hey its okay, I know how he gets. I’ll wear it. It's beautiful,” I say, earning a grin from Maxwell. “Thanks, Al. Oh hey, that kiss with Liam looked pretty good,” Max says, raising his eyes up and down suggestively. I roll my eyes. “You are so creepy. You guys seem to be friends, I’m guessing you're rooting for him to be the one I choose?” I ask knowingly, and Max shrugs. “I know your type,” “That’s debatable” “and he is actually a decent guy who is head over heels for you. You should listen to how he talks about you Al,” Max says, making me feel even worse for not feeling it back. For now at least. “I thought you were rooting for my bodyguard,” I say jokingly, making Max roll his eyes. “Yeah I could tell you liked him, but I was mostly kidding. I’m sure you guys would be great but it's not really realistic, you have to choose someone, and your mom would definitely not approve of your bodyguard,” Max says as he rummages through some clothes. 

He makes sense. That's what I hate so much about it. But Drake sees it the same way apparently. I ask Max to leave so I can get ready, and he does. Before long, People are arriving, and music is playing. I finish getting ready, putting my hair in a french twist-like hairstyle. I step out of the boutique, walking over to the grand staircase. “Princess Alana of Cordonia!” The herald announces, and I smile as I gracefully make my way down the stairs. I glance at the bottom and see Maxwell dressed up talking to Liam, who is wearing a suit with the same navy colored tie as my dress. Maxwell was sneakier than I thought.

Once I fully descend the staircase, Maxwell offers his elbow and I take it as he leads me into the ballroom. “I can't believe you made me and Liam match,” I say through the teeth of my smile in Maxwell’s ear. “Oh don't be so dramatic,” Is all Max says, making me roll my eyes. 

I’m at the head table once again, sitting next to Maxwell. The food is delicious and the company good, I have no reason to complain. I still find myself once again roaming the room with my eyes, searching for him. Weirdly, Drake is nowhere to be seen. He is usually standing with some people in suits. Is he gone because of what happened? I think, a sick feeling settling in my stomach. 

The dinner goes by quickly enough, and before I know it, its time for the party to truly begin. The older guests, including my mother, decide to go to bed, while us youngsters wait in the foyer for the famous bottle opening ‘ceremony’. Liam joins Maxwell by holding the champagne bottle, and Maxwell smashes it with a sword, and everyone cheers. Music starts thumping from somewhere, and in an instant, the party has really started. 

The night is amazing. We dance and drink the best cocktails in southern Europe. Maxwell tries to shoot apples off of people’s heads blindfolded and somehow a horse is walking around, a suitor passed out on it’s back. I dance my problems away, kiss Liam a couple times, forcing myself to not think about Drake. 

The party is in full swing, and everyone is plastered. I personally didn't drink as much, as I must keep some sort of shred of dignity, being a princess and all that bullshit. I realize I need a break from all these drunk people and loud music. It's not as fun to party with intoxicated people when you are practically sober. I sneak off and make my way to my favorite room, the Beaumont study. Its a room with large windows, dark wood paneling, and s comforting old book smell. I loved reading in there when I was younger. I open the door and see a guy looking at some book, and I jump in surprise. “Oh! sorry,” I say so he turns around, and its Drake. I didn't recognize him in a white shirt and denim jacket, not his usual suit. My heart just about falls out my ass. 

“Princess,” He says, that same pained look on his face. I sigh and close the door behind me. “Drake,” I say bitterly, crossing my arms. He looks at me for a moment, and I expect him to say sorry or comment about the other night. Instead, he clenches his jaw slightly, looking down. “So Liam huh?” He asks, and furrow my eyebrows. “What?” I ask, taken aback. “When I uh, came in earlier, I saw you two... Kissing.” He says, visibility struggling with the last word. I scoff. “Oh, so you have no problem kissing me like you did the other night then just leaving. But, if I try to get over you with someone else, it's unacceptable. Is that what you are saying?” I ask anger boiling within me. He has no right to dictate my feelings like that. “Yes,” He says, looking up at me. I scoff. “Ugh! You are unbelievable-" I start, but falter as he grabs me by the waist and pulls me close to him. “What is unbelievable is how much I want to kiss you right now and make you forget who Liam is,” Drake says, his voice low, making me gulp. I have some self-control, but he is making it really hard for me. “You can't do that Drake. Toss me away then get mad when I kiss someone else. You need to decide. Are you with me or not?” I ask, my heart thundering in my chest as I search his warm brown eyes.

“You. It will always be you,” He breathes, and in an instant, our lips are attached. My heart soars as I kiss him back, and there they are again. The sparks. He breaks the kiss and starts kissing my neck this time, licking and sucking at the skin. I gasp at the sensation, heat coiling in my stomach. I grip onto his shoulder until he's satisfied with the mark left. That's the thing about Drake. He doesn't hesitate with small polite kisses, he leaves me breathless with his intensity, his strength. He's the kind of man who pushes you up against a wall and kisses you until you can't breathe, aka my type of man. 

He kisses me again, and I bring my hands up his white t-shirt, running my hands over his chiseled torso. His hands run up and down my back, at some point one of his hands drifts over my ass, giving it a squeeze, making me squeal in surprise, and he stops, seeing if I'm alright. I just laugh. “Sorry! I just wasn't expecting that!” I say giggling. He cracks a grin. “No, I’m sorry, it kind of just happened,” He chuckles, somewhat sheepish. “Don't apologize, I liked it,” I say mischievously, my heart light. “Well then,” He says, then proceeds to grab me just under my ass and lift me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I giggle and kiss him deeply.

Liam who?

---

Omg, that was so long guys lol - 5k words! I didn't notice until after it was written oops! I have been so excited for you guys to read this chapter cause it's so juicy!! also sidenote and know all us know that Liam is really a freak who has sex in practically public lmao but not in this fic, haha I hoped you guys liked it! Love you all <3

Gift #8: My Universe

Gift for @enby-fander

Prompt: Analogical High School AU

My Universe

Characters: Logan, Deceit (called Daniel), Virgil, mentions of Remus, mentions of Patton

Pairings: Romantic Analogical, Platonic Loceit, Brotherly Anxciet, implied Brotherly Logicality

Warnings: Alludes to homelessness and poverty, sad boi Virgil

Summary: Thank you to the two anons who showed up on @enby-fander's account and gave me major inspiration right when I needed it. Here you go, Trans Virgil and Nonbinary Logan that starts as angst and ends as fluff.

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

As the rest of Kingston High School's sophomores rushed into the cafeteria, Daniel Hyde instead ducked through an out-of-the-way, yet familiar, pair of dark, wooden, though probably fake wood, double doors. His head was down as he stalked over to the Fiction section, deliberately searching. For what, bystanders had no clue.

They parted, anxious to induce the wrath of Dan, a boy rumoured to be in a gang. None of them would put such a thing past the punk boy. He wasn't someone to mess with.

He walked with such a determination that they knew he was on the hunt. His prey? Another, hidden from all but him.

Logan Jekyll was seated in the middle of the mystery section, shrouded in darkness. The junior knew these shelves well, so much so that they could traverse them without requiring sight. That way, they had no reason to flick the switches at the start of each row to the "on" position, which would illuminate the row of dim fluorescent bulbs dangling above. Logan liked it better in the dark, anyway. It hid the introvert from those pesky freshmen. The ones who liked to taunt Logan for some unknown reason.

"Oh look, it's genius Jekyll. Aren't you the one with the ridiculously high GPA? Highest in your year?"

They gave a quick, curt nod to both questions, not speaking. Instead, they continued to read their book, turning the page after a few seconds of silence.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was most definitely living up to the praise they had heard it received, primarily by the Hyde brothers. Daniel had always pressed them to read it, so they had finally began the novel.

As they read, laughs were heard. The rowdy students had become bored with the junior and had stampeded away towards the computers. Logan never understood what they seemed to find so funny.

"Hey, first chair Jekyll, heard you got the solo for the next concert."

When they nodded, quick and curt, the group started laughing yet again. All the way over to the doors. Probably after they walked out the doors, too.

Logan recognized someone in that mob as the sophomore who liked to raise hell during rehearsal, along with a few trumpet players, a bassoon, and half of percussion. He brought the baritone horn section down considerably, even with Logan there to counterbalance his pure idiocy. And to think, this kid is laughing at him. Sheer stupidity, all of it.

"Jekyll, my man, the reason our debate team isn't shit. You're captain, right? Who's second, in your book?"

At the first question, they nodded. At the second, they scowled and looked back at his book. They did have an opinion on who would fall second, but that opinion was not owed to a group of freshmen who loiter around and taunt others. Seeing the spectacle-wearing one's scowl, the boys laughed. Turning and walking away, they kept on snickering and joking about "perfect Jekyll."

'Our debate team? You mean, my debate team.' Logan recognized none of those dumbasses as members of debate, especially not the one who initiated the conversation. He would be debating things when pigs flew.

"I found Jekyll, man of the hour. Nice speech you gave, didn't realize you could do that. Thought only seniors could."

They shook their head "no" at the statement, causing them to… big surprise… laugh at them.

At least they're eloquent enough to make a speech. These people could barely string together simple sentences, let alone write with enough skill to compose a speech at the level Logan did so at.

"Hey guys, here's Dr. Jekyll. Heard you finally found your Mr. Hyde, and you're terribly in love."

They scowled, otherwise ignoring all of them. That narrative wasn't even fitting to Robert Louis Stevenson's original story. In the end, it was revealed that Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde were one and the same, a relationship they and their boyfriend do not possess.

"What, don't want to admit that you're gay as f*ck for Hyde?"

The scowl already adorning their features intensified some, but that was the only indicator of how pissed Logan truly was. Lacking a reaction, the group turned and walked away, laughing as they went.

Did they owe them an explanation of their love life? No, they should f*ck off. It's their damn significant other, not theirs. They were thinking of multiple profanities that could describe those idiots, but decidedly did not execute them aloud. Their choices would make probably Remus Kingston proud, a boy who has an alphabet of swear words, an alphabet that only skims the surface of his cursing dictionary.

As Logan sat there, reminiscing about how much of an asshole all of those freshmen were, Dan was slowly honing down his search radius.

He had visited most of Logan's normal rows, besides mystery and parts of nonfiction. As he walked to non-fiction, he stopped abruptly and turned to walk down the row of mystery novels. Logan truly adored the who-dunits covering these shelves, or so he's heard. He may have good luck looking here, as long as his brother knew Jekyll well. Dan was certain he did.

Don't fail me now, nerd, I need you, he thought, breathing deeply.

He strolled casually into the aisle, flicking the switch at the start of the row. The dim fluorescent lining the ceiling flickered on, revealing exactly what he was looking for. Exactly who he was looking for. Logan Jekyll.

Logan hissed at the sudden lights, sparking a chuckle from the sophomore stalking towards him. They looked up, blue-green eyes meeting grey.

There was an amused smirk adorning the boy's features. Logan did not mirror the expression, but they were nonetheless glad to see the sophomore.

"Didn't realize us Hyde's had made an impression on you. Not surprised, though, with how much you see my brother."

The one clad in blue blushed a deep red at the mention of their boyfriend. Daniel laughed at the sight, before offering out his hand. Logan looked down at the palm obscured by black, fingerless gloves, bewildered as to why the other was putting his hand out. Their confusion showed, causing Dan to roll his eyes and huff.

"Take my hand, Calculator Watch, I'm helping you up. That sorry excuse for carpeting is stale as f*ck, so we might as well go sit somewhere more comfortable."

Reliasition flashed before Logan's eyes as they muttered an, "Ah." Their hand took the other's gloved one, allowing the younger boy to hoist the older off of the matted, black carpet. They now were roughly at eye-level with each other, Logan with a solid height of 5'5" and Daniel being just a half or full inch shorter.

Daniel ran one hand through his slicked back black hair, shoving the other in one pocket of his faded leather jacket. The hand brushing the hair joined the other in the pocket opposite.

"Now, Jekyll, we have a pressing matter to discuss."

The two walked in silence for a while, Daniel leading them through the hallways. Suddenly, he took a left into a classroom, Logan following behind.

The classroom was abandoned, obviously having been used as a science room at one point. There were posters adorning two of the walls, saying things like "Eat, sleep, science, repeat."

"We need to talk about my brother."

Panic flashed in the eyes of Logan, who hid the emotion quickly. Dan wouldn't have noticed if Logan had not coughed directly afterwards, drawing attention to their still shell-shocked expression

The older of the two anxiously scuffed one of their NASA-themed Vans across the linoleum tiles, before looking back at the aforementioned boy.

"Go on."

"Well, he has refused to leave his room for the past 5 days, so I wanted to ask you for…"

He hesitated, but Logan pushed him on.

"For what? Spit it out, Hyde."

Daniel coughed, before regaining his composure.

"I need your help, Jeyll. I need your f*cking help. You're the only person I know that can do anything to get my brother out of his hiding space, and that's all I care about. I'm willing to put aside our indifferences if it helps my brother. Now, tell me, will you?"

"So, what am I supposed to do again?"

The two were walking to the apartment the Hyde brothers shared.

Daniel cleared his throat. "You're supposed to get that bastard to emerge from the cave he has made out of his room. This may be a habit of his, but it has gone on longer than normal, which concerns me."

Logan chuckled. "Sounds like him, alright. At least I now know for certain you and I are talking about the same person."

Dan burst out, "Finally! Someone understands how antisocial that motherf*cker can be!"

He gestured dramatically to emphasize the point.

The older's face morphed into a grin and they began to laugh.

"Hey!" they said, through their laughter, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

Daniel snorted.

"He's my brother! I'm allowed to call him an antisocial bastard."

The pair's laughter tapered off as they continued their trek.

"May I ask how far away your apartment is?"

Daniel coughed, shifting a bit awkwardly.

"Um… it's still a few minutes away, but we're heading up on it."

Logan cocked an eyebrow.

"Y'all live in the downtown area?" they asked.

Dan stayed silent, but nodded.

"My apologies for pushing the subject."

The pair had arrived at the place Daniel pointed them towards, a run-down, dirty-looking, crowded apartment building. Dan stopped multiple times before they arrived, obviously completing a routine.

First, he stopped by an older woman, who was walking across the sparsely filled parking lot with a cart. In the cart, canned food resided, all of which had a small message written on them in Sharpie.

As he reached her, Daniel pressed a can of food he procured from the pocket of his black backpack into her hands.

Logan heard her murmur, "God bless you, honey. You and your brother stay safe, alright Danny?"

They saw Dan give a warm smile towards her. "We will. Stay safe, Mrs. Cunningham."

Secondly, he waved to a group of little boys running in the lot, kicking a ball around. The one who had the ball kicked it towards Daniel, grinning brightly.

"Mr. Hyde!" the other boys shouted, having just spotted the teenager.

"Now what have I always told y'all? Call me Dan."

"Okay, Mr. Dan!" the boys chorused.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ruffling the hair of one. "I give up, y'all obviously are gonna be respectful at all times."

He paused, before clearing his throat.

"That's a good thing, boys. Respect everyone, even if it doesn't seem like they deserve it. Just gotta respect everyone."

The last part was murmured.

The boys all nodded vigorously, before one shouted, "First one to the tree over there gets to pick teams!"

They all sprinted, leaving Dan and Logan to chuckle.

"Kids, right?"

Daniel gave a half-moon smile. "Yeah."

The last stop before the Hyde apartment was at the front desk of the lobby. It could barely be considered a lobby, more like a room with a desk shoved in the corner, some assorted furniture in the other, and stairs to the upper floors. Daniel stepped up to the desk, pulling a sheet of folded notebook paper out of his jacket pocket. He set it on the desk before turning around and smoothing the worn-leather of his jacket. He popped the collar, looking Logan in the eyes.

"Let's go, Jekyll."

"Apartment 7C, correct?"

The pair had just arrived at floor 7, both out of breath. Daniel hid it better, though.

"...Yes," he composed himself, looking at the junior with a look of annoyance.

They strolled down the hall, stopping just short of the end.

APARTMENT 7C read a small, dirty plaque mounted just above the doorknob.

Dan proccured an equally rusty key from his back jean pocket. He turned to Logan and said, "Let's go get my bastard of a brother out of his damn slump."

The pair walked into the mess of an apartment, Daniel shouting out a quick, "I'm home!" to ease the other Hyde's anxieties. Though, the shouting may be contradictory, as the older Hyde brother was not a fan of loud noises.

Daniel quickly dropped the key on a rickety table close by to the door. His combat boots were shed, as Logan kicked off his Vans.

Dan turned to Logan, directing him towards his brother.

"Down the hall, first door to the left. It'll be locked, so… here."

He grabbed a penny from the counter and threw it to Logan. They caught it with ease, studying the coin. They looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Our locks are garbage, so this should get it easy. I would've done it myself earlier this week, but I believe in the sanctitiy of one's room. That is, until you're in there for almost a week."

Logan nodded, turning to follow the instructions given.

Dan stopped them.

"I don't think he wants to see me, so I'll stay back. Jekyll, get my brother. Please."

He sounded almost desperate, so Logan obliged.

They found the door indicated easily, as there was a galaxy-patterned poster in blues and purples attached to the door with Scotch tape. It just seemed… right.

They jangled the knob a bit, discovering it was unsurprisingly locked. Logan took the penny, shoved it into the flat indentation on the rusty knob, turning slowly and carefully. It worked. The door was now unlocked.

Logan turned the handle, quickly entering the dark room. They heard a hoarse voice, dull due to lack of use, emitate from the corner.

"L-eave m-e the hell alon-e."

A throat was cleared, a few coughs ringing through the silence of the room.

"I'm fine."

Logan huffed, rumbling for the light switch mounted on the wall next to them.

Their hand knocked the switch up, prompting a hiss from the figure huddled in a corner.

"I thought you would be happier to see me. I assume I was wrong."

The figure looked up, revealing messy purple hair, tired and unfocused eyes, and a miserable expression adorning the features Logan would always find beautiful.

"Stella?"

"It's me, nebulosa."

Logan looked around the room.

It was very… Virgil.

He had a few band posters on the walls, hoodies with patches and stitching and a worn leather-jacket (much like Daniel's) hanging in the closet alongside his school-issued letterman's jacket, a black guitar propped up nicely in a corner, a chair that looked similar to those in the small dining room set with his low-quality music stand, band folder, and the large, bulky case of a euphonium put aside carefully, and a few trophies and certificates earned for track, for musical achievements, or for academic accomplishments were set on the dresser or hung on the wall above it. Everything was in black and deep purple, with subtle hints of navy.

They liked the color scheme a lot, as it was quite pleasing to the eye.

Much better than their brother's mixture of bright and pastel blues, all light in tone. Patton really didn't know how to mix colors.

Logan's attention was diverted, however, from the room surrounding them when they heard sniffles from Virgil's corner.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

Virgil wiped his eyes, acting as though he wasn't just crying.

"I'm just over-emotional, I guess. Damn it, peri-"

He stopped himself, a look of shock adorning his features. Logan looked upon him with a look of pity, sad-smile creeping onto their features.

"Is that why you've been isolating yourself, babe? Hey, hey, come here."

Virgil shook his head. "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.

Logan walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him.

"It's okay, stella. ...I love you."

Virgil gave a weak smile.

"I love you too, Logan."

You Had To Open Your Mouth

Like A Mate Should

Summary: Namjoon and Jin see you being attacked as a godsend. You see your attack and meeting them as a series of unfortunate events. How unfortunate that you’re their mate. 

Pairings: established NamJin / Namjin x Reader/ Jin x Reader

Word Count: 3,321

Masterlist > Previous > Next

The house is eerily quiet when you leave the room the next morning, the complete opposite from the loud, boisterousness of the boys you’ve already come to expect. A mop of dark hair peeks over the back of the couch as you walk into the living room. Jungkook is sitting, a small gaming device in his hands that has his whole attention.

“Where is everyone?”

The game flies from hand to hand as Jungkook jumps in his spot and loudly curses before the device finally falls onto the carpet with a dull thud. Jungkook rushes to pick up the device and he sets in on the coffee table before turning to you. He stares at you until you raise your eyebrows in a silent question and he’s reminded to speak.

“Oh, uh, Jimin and Hobi went into town. Suga’s probably still sleeping, and Tae probably went to the pond, and I um- I don’t know where Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung are.” He says the last bit of information as though he’s trying to keep a secret. An awkward silence blankets the both of you so your standing facing each other, eyes shifting around the room.

“I’m the one that’s bringing you back to town,” Jungkook blurts out. “Not that I asked to. That would be weird of me to ask because, you know, Jimin. Not to say that you’re not pretty-because you are- it’s just that I don’t really go that way and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter because Jin and Namjoo-wait.” The entire time Jungkook spoke, he kept his eyes to the floor and suddenly looked up as he remembered something halfway through his speel, face mortified.

You bit your lower lip before pursing your lips and standing on your tiptoes to lower yourself flat-footed again.

“....Okay. Are you good to go then?”

Jungkook rapidly nods, glad for the break in the conversation. “Are you okay to walk?”

“Uh, yeah,” you look down at your ankle mumbling, “I don’t think it’s fully healed but I should be good walking on it.”

Jungkook nods again.

You follow him out of the door onto the front porch. There’s a large space cleared that you assume is used as a lawn before the grass becomes shaded by trees. You see a large garden on one side of the yard and next to you on the porch is a dark, oak bench swing with a pastel blue cushion. You grip onto the railing as you limp down the small set of stairs onto the stone path leading into the woods. Jungkook watches from the bottom with worried eyes.

You’ve barely been walking for five minutes before you want to punch the younger man in the face. He’s already asked you about twenty times how you were feeling and if you were okay to keep walking. If it weren’t for his red face and the way his gaze would flicker to the ground whenever he caught you looking at him, you might have actually thrown hands. The tension between you and Jungkook built and there were only so many trees you could distract yourself with as you walked by.

“So how did you all meet?”

Jungkook stumbles in the path.

His lips split into a wide, nervous smile. The chubbiness of his cheeks with his slightly oversized front teeth and the softness of his nature at that second make you forget what exactly he is.

“Um, I’m half shapeshifter so my mom sent me away to school so I wouldn’t be seen in the clan and I met Taehyung there and he introduced me to everyone.” Jungkook’s eyes light up despite the heaviness of his words, perhaps from the opportunity to talk to someone new.

Jungkook takes a full breath before his face lifts and he begins speaking again. “I was really nervous at first because they were all older than me but Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung became like parents to me. Jin-hyung would actually drive me to school most days-Yoongi would sometimes drive me when he felt like it or he had to pick something up in town.”

Jungkook is looking at the ground as he talks but his expression is comfortable. You didn’t expect him to open up like this to you but his youthful aura begs you to stay silent and let him take advantage of you listening. Besides, it’s better than the solitary silence of the plant life around you.

Jungkook’s eyes squint in happiness as he reminisces, “It actually took me and Jimin awhile before we realized we were mates.” He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “I would annoy him a lot and I always looked up to him so I would copy him and for the longest time, I thought he was mated to Yoongi-hyung but then one day when he went into heat, Taehyung came running to me, yelling about Jimin was asking for me.” He laughs at the end as if he were sharing an inside joke with you.

Memories pop into your brain of the lessons your own mother taught you about werewolf mating and the brief touch on the topic in your high-school health class.

Jungkook hasn’t taken any notice to your mind drifting away. “And then it turned out that Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok-hyung were mates but they’re not as affectionate as Jimin and me and they completed their mark so they didn’t need to be around each other all the time when I joined the pack….You okay?”

Jungkook looks at you with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Your face flushes. “Yeah, I just- I just thought that it was uncommon for two werewolves that were the same gender to mate?”

If Jungkook has any issue with the word ‘werewolf’ or the question itself, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes softened in understanding.

“I think it’s about the same as humans.”

“Yeah, but I thought you guys chose mates based on reproductive purposes.”

“Humans do the same thing, don’t they? And if you’re talking about us having mates based on how well we’ll be able to have children with them, then that’s a myth.” Jungkook sees your confused expression and continues on. “We don’t get to choose our mate, it’s just kind of, instinctual to us? Our nature subconsciously chooses partners it knows will most compatible with us based on scent so that doesn’t always mean whoever will give you the healthiest pups. It’s just who you’ll be most in sync with physically and emotionally, and then typically because of that our pups are extremely healthy and grow up sturdy.”

You silently nod in confirmation, absorbing all of the information thrown at you. Jungkook’s taught you more in 10 minutes than what you’ve learned about shapeshifters your whole life.

“Do you humans not feel the same connection?”

The innocence of his question draws out an unnatural amount of maternal sympathy. “Not really, no. Relationships like that usually take us a while to build.”

“In every movie with humans, they always find their mate though.”

“Yeah-those are just movies, Jungkook,” you look him in the eyes. “Nothing about them is realistic, especially the falling in love in three weeks.”

“So you’re telling me humans feel nothing when they meet their mate?”

“Nope.”

“I feel bad for Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung now,” Jungkook pouts at the ground and continues his trek.

Your eyebrows pinch as you follow behind him, mindful of the small boulders bulging from the section of the path you’re currently on, “Why?”

“Because Namjoon-hyung came back home when he ran into you and he couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m pretty sure him and Jin stayed up all night talking about you.”

You reach out and grab Jungkook’s arm to make him stop again. This time he looks just as confused as you do at your ministrations. “Wait, what? When did Namjoon run into me?”

“When he went into town.”

You shake your head to convey you still have no indication of when you and Namjoon crossed paths. “When did he go into town?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up as he thinks back a few days ago. “About two days before we found you and brought you back home.”

Your mind replays the week's events back to you until you get to the last time you were in town but your mind comes up blank. The only thing you can remember is the lunch you had with your friends and talk about the date before the date itself.

“We thought you were in the forest because you were looking for them.”

“No?” your eyebrows further deepen upon your face and Jungkook’s expression moderately shifts to mirror yours.

Both of you stand in front of each other, unsure of how to respond. Without saying anything, you come to a silent agreement when you look at your befuddled faces then with a shrug, begin walking again.

The rest of the walk is short and you and Jungkook don’t make much conversation for the remainder of it. You can’t get the thought of all that he’s said to you about Namjoon and Jin out of your head, especially the fact that you and Namjoon apparently already having had a run in before you ended up at their house.

There’s a park that the path opens into. It’s empty except for the woman jogging, pushing a stroller and another woman off in the distance untangling a leash from around the legs of her dog. The breeze is stronger here without the trees to halt it, but it’s still soft. You look behind you to see that the space you just came from is practically non-visible, as though you walked through a portal and the path was a mirage conjured up from days wandering through the woods hungry and dehydrated. But Jungkook is still standing beside you and the bandage is still snug on your ankle.

“So this is the central park. We’re pretty close to town,” Jungkook captures your attention, “You’re able to make your way back okay, right?”

“Mhmm.” You eagerly nod at him, ready to escape from the strange energy built between you two.

Jungkook takes a slow step backward, “Cool. Well-uh, stay safe and it was nice meeting you.”

He snaps his fingers and spins so he’s walking forward and you watch him disappear into the thicket back onto the pack. The moment you’re alone, the past week begins to feel like a fever dream.

Despite the plethora of questions from your friends once your phone was charged and you saw them in person and dodging demands to see pictures or souvenirs, the past two weeks have been relatively normal. Well except for the fact that no matter how busy you keep yourself, you can’t stop thinking about the pack of shifters that saved you. More specifically, Namjoon and Jin.

Jungkook’s conversation with you had been ringing in your head since the day he led you back. And the fact that he was the one to lead you back when Jin was the one that insisted that you stay. You would have thought that he would have wanted to be the one to see you off and make sure that your ankle was good before you departed for good.

You heavily sigh and drop your head back when you see the sign on the elevator letting all know that it doesn’t work. Of course, this would happen the day you have tests in all your Tuesday classes. You roll your shoulders as much as you can with the backpack containing your textbooks, planner, and laptop resting on your back.

You drudge your feet over to the paint chipped, metal door that opens to a shady staircase. You wish you could say you were the type of person who’s thighs didn’t burn after climbing three flights of stairs. The minute you enter your apartment, you throw your bag onto the small couch and make a beeline straight to your room. The promise of loose pajamas and a night in made you giddy and for tonight, you were allowing yourself a break from school.

You scroll through your social media and answer the occasional text as the characters on screen whined about the new issue of the episode. The acting was bad but the familiarity of it was comforting. You want to laugh at how close to home the current episode hits. It was a show from before the discovery of shapeshifters, where werewolves were seen as mythical commodities for entertainment and so anyone had free range to voice their interpretations.

The male lead of the show was fighting a group of people when hair started growing on his face and his eyes turned a bright yellow. As you watched the character’s claws swing at the faces of the other people, the now completely healed bite on your ankle began to ache. As though seeing an aggressive shifter on the tv screen was a trigger to your ankle, saying, “you should be in pain”.

You reach down and delicately rub the two puncture marks that were left behind. And with the reminder of your old wound comes the reminder of the creatures that caused it and the shifters that healed it. With the reminder of the boys comes the reminder of Jin and Namjoon. All that they did to help you and how they wanted to get to know you, the conversation you had with Jungkook about them and the conversation you had with Namjoon before you left.

A strange feeling bubbled inside your chest; something akin to guilt mixed another feeling you can’t quite determine. Now instead of your attention being put on the show playing in front of you and your phone face down on the arm of the couch, your legs are restless to move.

You sit up straight, leg bouncing and face screwed in concentration as you think to yourself.

“This is such a bad idea.”

You were able to maneuver through the park with the night sky blackening the sidewalk that ran through it. Yet here you are, in front of the mysterious hidden path Jungkook had led you out of some time before. You can’t see where the entrance is but you know you’re in the right space. The emptiness of the park around you is eery and sends chills up and down your spine so you have to swallow the thoughts of all the ways you could die being alone outside at night. What you wouldn’t give to see the woman from before whose dog got itself caught in its leash.

You almost turn around and go back home. In fact, you do that a couple times. Caught in a loop where you stare at the path then go to walk away only to swallow your nerves and turn back and be caught frozen before repeating again. You take in a deep breath and puff your chest to prepare to walk into the dark, unknown path when all of a sudden a loud rustling comes from in front of you and true fear clogs your throat. You want to turn around again but now you can’t.

You keep your muscles tense despite their natural shaking to prepare themselves to help you flee. Your heart has dropped into your stomach and your mouth is dry as the rustling grows louder and your mind conjures up images of red eyes peering from behind the fauna. You feel the phantom sensation of blood running down your ankle and you want so badly to look down to see if the intense ache felt is real.

“Y/N?”

If it weren’t for Jin saying your name, you would have no idea who’s standing in front of you due to the tears blurring your vision. Your diaphragm reanimates, allowing your lungs to expand and take in a deep breath of air that somewhat immediately stops the dizziness in your head.

“What the hell Jin? What are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Each of your words become jumbled as you speak over one another. Jin reaches forward and places his hands on your upper arms as he checks over you for any injuries. You take a step back out of his grasp and his hands drop to his sides, but his eyes remain concerned on you.

“You scared me! Why are you even here!?” you scold Jin and place a hand on your chest over your frantically beating heart.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why are you here?” you repeat yourself, exasperated and drop your hand from your chest.

Under the dim street lamp, you can see a blush forming on Jin, starting from his neck and coloring his face.

“There was something I needed to do,” Jin tries to deflect the question, “Why are you here?”

You don’t want to admit that the reason you looked for the path to their house was to see them. Admittedly, sputtering at Jin’s question probably didn’t make you seem un-suspicious.

“It doesn’t matter why I’m here. What is it you needed to do at 11 o’clock at night?”

Feeding into this game of deflection probably didn’t help your case either.

Jin rapidly blinks as he formulates what answer to give you. Eventually, he resigns himself to telling you the truth and squares his shoulders to make himself appear taller and more confident. “I was looking for you actually.”

“Why?”

Jin sharply inhales then clears his throat a few times. His shoulders now appear more tense and uncomfortable than those of a confident man.

“I wanted to ask you on a date.”

Your lips slightly part as you gape at him. Nervous energy fills the quiet air and Jin shifts from foot to foot as he watches and waits for a response. His eyes have begun to rapidly blink again.

“You came all the way here to ask me on a date!?” your hands thread themselves through your hair and you half spin away from Jin. “You walked all the way here at nearly midnight so you could ask me on a date!? You don’t even know where I live! How were you going to find me? What were you even thinking? Are you insane!”

Jin visibly flinches back as each question is thrown at him and by the time you run out of breath, his face is a raging red and his eyes are wide. His lips move on their own accord trying to speak the words caught in his throat.

At last, he’s finally able to respond to you staring at him aghast.

“I know Jungkook told you how mating works and I just couldn’t let this be a missed opportunity.” Jin goes from bordering on terrified to pleading. “Let me and Namjoon take you o just one date,” when he sees your eyes grow wider, he quickly corrects himself, “Just me! Let me take you on a date. I promise you won’t regret it and if you do, I’ll leave you alone and you can completely forget about me.”

Jin takes a hesitant step towards you so he’s almost directly under the dim light. His eyes softly bore into yours. His voice becomes soft as he drops it to whisper, “Please.”

It feels as though your mind is completely blank. You never expected anything that happened tonight to happen and yet you’re even more surprised by Jin’s appearance and request. It seems to be a pattern with him and the other boys to make every interaction with them feel like something straight from a movie. And you don’t know whether it’s the way the light hits Jin’s face or the fact that your brain hasn’t fully comprehended what he asked, but you nod yes. You don’t exactly mind the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you as though you made him the richest man on Earth.

Tags: @detectivebourbon @omgsuperstarg @eshika0102 @delightfulyoongi @boononx

Chapter 2: Gloxinia

it doesn’t mean much

it doesn’t mean anything at all

the life i’ve left behind me is a cold room

Virgil stirred to wide-eyed awareness twice in the night, both times because he thought he heard doors opening. But he was too exhausted to get up and check, and reluctantly settled down after the adrenaline wore off.

The third time he opened his eyes, the sky outside his bedroom window glowed an early morning blue and he desperately needed the restroom.

Groaning, he grabbed his hoodie from where he’d slung it over the headboard the night before, pulled it securely around him, and padded across the hallway. Once finished, he tiptoed cautiously into the main room, finding it exactly as he had left it the night before.

Was he still alone? If the sounds he’d heard were Logan coming in super late, at best the dude was probably still asleep.

Hell, I should still be asleep, Virgil thought, wandering blearily into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, more out of curiosity than actual hunger, and let out a surprised laugh.

“Holy troll shit, that is a lot of jelly,” he murmured, pulling out a jar to read the label. Crofters Organic.

Oh.

That explained the postscript.

The sound of front door opening and closing startled him to his feet. Virgil hastily replaced the jar, lining it back up next to its dozen or so neighbors.

Closing the fridge door, he looked over the counter and found himself face to face with the most gorgeous person he’d ever laid eyes on. His heart stuttered. The newcomer dumped a keyring on the counter…shit, this was Logan?…and adjusted a pair of half-moon glasses.

“You must be Virgil,” he said in a deep, tranquil voice, stepping out of a pair of worn athletic shoes.

Virgil made a croaking noise that tried to become a greeting before getting stuck halfway down his throat.

Logan swept through the apartment, disappearing into the furthest room and reemerging with a towel. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, bark dark and beech smooth, and sparkled in black hair braided into a dozen wavy rows against his scalp. The guy had one of those sculpted, solid builds, all broad, lean planes and bold, sensual lines. An artist’s dream to shade; a little awkward to hug.

Virgil swallowed hard, forcing his poor gay eyes away.

Somehow between the normalcy of the apartment and the weirdly formal note, he had forgotten that Logan was half faery; half Court Fae, in fact, if his looks were any clue. Such faeries were, as a rule, heartbreakingly beautiful.

Upon closer examination, his non-human heritage was obvious. Ears that swept up and back to points on either side of his head, clearly visible to Virgil’s changeling gaze. Frost white streaks that twined through his braids. And those fae, prismatic eyes: the irises an explosion of frost and indigo and smoke that coalesced into a deep slate gray.

Eyes that gazed a little too deep, burned a little too wild behind his glasses.

Virgil knew he ought to say something, but his addled brain had forgotten how to operate his mouth.

“Apologies for my unkempt state,” Logan said as he patted himself down. “I always do my running in the morning before it gets too hot.”

“Uh…yeah,” Virgil muttered, wrenching his gaze from smooth muscles and a graceful sweeping collarbone to Logan’s stormy eyes, so striking in that dark face. “No, I mean…that’s cool.”

Eloquent, Virgil.

Logan eyed him impassively.

Virgil became abruptly and painfully ashamed to be dressed in nothing but ratty boxers and a faded hoodie. Maybe he could just escape into my room and put pants on or would Logan hate me for being rude but maybe he already hates me for being half naked in the living room what the hell is wrong with me…

“Do you drink coffee?”

Logan hung the towel over one of the dining room chairs and swept past Virgil into the kitchen. A trace of that elusive teal scent from the night before followed in his wake, nearly making Virgil swoon. Even his voice was sexy: dark and ocean blue, pleasantly filling the room without being loud.

Kelpie’s mane, Virgil, get your shit together. It’s not like you’ve never seen a hot black dude before.

He pulled his hoodie more tightly around himself.

“Uh, yeah,” he belatedly answered Logan’s question. “Coffee’s great.”

“Personally I like tea.”

Oh. Well, Virgil did usually manage to say the wrong thing.

Logan pulled a Keurig machine from a bottom cabinet and set it up on the counter.

“Herbal, preferably,” he added, “though I have been known to enjoy a good Earl Gray from time to time.”

“Earl Gray.” Virgil forced a chuckle. “You Captain Picard or something?”

His Rennie family had all been very fond of Star Trek, which was the only reason Virgil knew anything about it.

Logan, however, frowned.

“I am Logan Ursae.” He adjusted his glasses. “I assumed the Youngstown Grimms would have at least informed you of my name before sending you here?”

Virgil wasn’t sure if he was being mocked or if the guy was just that literal.

“I meant, like, the Star Trek character, dude. Obviously I know who you are.”

Logan’s mouth twisted and he turned back to the Keurig.

“I’m afraid I am not at all knowledgable about popular human entertainment. I find most of it trite and shallow.”

Virgil scuffed his bare foot uneasily over the carpet. Usually he preferred people to speak their minds instead of fucking around…but this guy took that philosophy a bit far.

He did write that stick-up-the-ass note.

“Do you know that proper peppermint can be frustratingly difficult to procure unless one grows it themselves?” Logan said, once again ignoring the awkward silence that had fallen.

Or maybe Virgil was the only awkward one, as usual.

“And it cannot be grown from seed, only cuttings.”

Virgil made a noncommittal noise, unsure if Logan was even expecting a response at this point.

Logan held out a box of flavored coffees, packed side by side and seemingly organized by color.

“Um…hazelnut if you’ve got it,” Virgil muttered. “Should I, like, help or whatever?”

“Nonsense, you are my guest. Plus my kitchen is not large enough to accommodate two people comfortably.” Logan waved a graceful hand as he filled a copper kettle. “I will start our drinks, and then perhaps we should both get dressed for the day.”

Virgil flushed and pulled his hoodie closer, aware once again that he’d galavanted out here in his underwear and worse, Logan had noticed. Had he seen Virgil ogling his bare chest?

Was that why he kept prattling on about tea?

He’s probably already decided I’m weird and creepy, he’s just waiting for the right moment to call me out…

“Why even have a coffee maker if you don’t drink coffee?” Virgil asked, and then flinched. He had a bad habit of masking his anxiety with belligerence.

It was why people tended not to like him.

Logan’s mouth quirked as he centered a mug under the Keurig. “You are not the first changeling I’ve taken in.”

He brushed past Virgil again (that scent, gods, Virgil’s brain swooned again), heading towards the back bedroom.

“Go and change while I shower,” he threw over his shoulder. “Then we can properly acquaint ourselves with one another.”

With that, the door clicked shut, leaving Virgil alone with a gaping mouth.

“Bloody redcaps,” he muttered, yanking a handful of his faded purple hair. ‘Acquaint ourselves’, my gay ass. Said with a straight face. How the fuck is anyone that oblivious?

“Naughty, naughty thoughts, changeling.” Remy’s amused smirk and sunglasses were just visible from his cabinet’s half-open door. “You’re lucky the Bear’s not a telepath.”

Virgil, flushing, made a rude gesture in the brownie’s direction and stalked to his own room, slamming the door. He then leaned against it and exhaled, his heart still throbbing unsteadily in his chest.

Logan was…not what he had expected.

Virgil wasn’t sure what he had expected, after reading that note from last night. Certainly not some hot nerd with a gorgeous runner’s body and a quiet, self-assured aura, plus a bit bossy, and damn, why do I find that kinda hot?

Remy’s taunt came back to him and he groaned, covering his face. They were naughty thoughts; thoughts a changeling like himself had no business entertaining. A beautiful half-faery deserved far better than a former thrall who’d done the sorts of things Virgil had done…

Plus you haven’t made the best first impression, have you?

Virgil thunked his head against the door, realized he’d been wool-gathering like a moron for several minutes, and went to change clothes. He took a little time to comb his hair and rub a little patchouli oil behind his ears. He wished he owned something nicer than ripped black jeans, faded band t-shirts (mostly metal), and one bulky, black plaid hoodie.

He hated that it suddenly mattered.

When Virgil emerged, Logan had already returned to the kitchen, dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a plain black polo that clung rather unfairly to his arms and torso, and…Virgil almost chuckled at the sight…a blue striped necktie.

Somehow, he made it work.

“Sit where you’d like.” Logan poured hot water into a galaxy mug without turning around. The Keurig spat the last of its sweet smelling contents into a second mug, and Logan carried both to the table.

Virgil sat, feeling self-conscious as Logan passed him his coffee.

Because now the half faery clearly expected them to talk about things.

Virgil hated talking about things.

“I imagine you have questions,” Logan stated without preamble.

“I…guess?” Virgil took a shy sip and winced as it burned his tongue.. “I mean…they didn’t tell me much about you back in Ohio,” he admitted. “Only that you have some ability to hide changelings from other Fae, and that’s why I’d be safe here.”

Logan stirred a generous dollop of honey into his tea, tasted it, grimaced, and added another spoonful. Virgil stared, morbidly fascinated that anyone so doggedly serious would want their drink that sweet.

“My ability to hide you is actually a byproduct of what I am, rather than anything I do.” Logan explained. “Simply put, even as a half-blood, my Court magic burns strong enough to mask yours. A proper Court faery could hide you far better, but finding one who wouldn’t immediately turn you back over to your master would be…”

“Impossible?” Virgil shivered.

“Improbable.”

There were a million questions Virgil probably needed to ask, since he was stuck here. But as usual, his mouth refused to cooperate.

Logan eventually got up to fry a couple eggs and fix some toast, prompting Virgil to ask about the fridge full of jam, which sparked a passionate one-sided rant about fruit spreads, organics, ethics, and the superiority of Crofters that spared Virgil the need to do anything except nod with wide eyes until breakfast was over.

(He was permitted to taste the sacred jam, and had to admit that it was pretty good).

“We will need to pick up Nicodemus this morning,” Logan stated once they’d finished eating and carried their plates to the sink.

“We?” Virgil echoed, choosing to focus on that rather than on who or what a ‘Nicodemus’ might be. He slid his plate into the soapy water as Logan washed, almost dropping it when he accidentally brushed Logan’s forearm. The half-faery’s skin was smooth and pleasantly cool.

“I do not think it safe for you to be left here alone for long periods of time, at least not at first. Therefore you will need to accompany me on errands. I suggest we take thirty minutes to digest and then be on our way.” Logan paused, and turned to properly face Virgil. “If…that is agreeable to you?”

Virgil’s dislike of being ordered around must have been visible on his face. He schooled it to neutrality and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Good impression, Virgil, come on.

“I mean, I don’t have anything going on until classes start in two weeks, so…you know, whatever you need to do is cool with me.”

Great. Now stop rambling, idiot.

Logan nodded and swept past again, down the hall, and then his bedroom door was closing firmly behind him again. Virgil huffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Definitely not a man of excess words.

Or, and I’m just spitballing here, he thought wryly as he meandered back to his own room. Maybe he hates you already.

Gloxinia: love at first sight

Sorry!

Summary: (Bucky x reader) a power outage during a storm leads to awkward situations that you couldn’t be more grateful for.

Warnings: swearing & cute, awkward fluff. Lots of it. Also not my best writing.

A/N: SO to celebrate 200 followers (ohmygoshthankyou) I decided to write my first non-Loki fic! Hope you guys like it and if you’re just here for Loki, I’ve got plenty more coming ;) this is not anywhere close to good writing, but hope you enjoy anyways!

Thank you so much for reading!!!

Masterlist

“SHIT!”

There was a loud crash somewhere to your left, followed by a thud, “OW,” and shattering glass.

Silence.

“I’m ok!”

Another silent moment passed.

“Fucking power outage,” he grumbled as an afterthought.

You snorted with laughter, only imagining the mess he had just created.

“Language!! I’m in here too, don’t kill yourself,” you called out, following the wall through the dark towards Bucky’s voice.

This had to be the worst power outage of the season, if it was able to knock out the electricity to the entire Avengers compound. You didn’t even know that was possible. But after a crash of thunder bigger than any you had even seen Thor conjure, the lights had flickered once, twice, then shut off completely.

“Don't come in here, Y/N. There’s glass everywhere.” You heard Bucky pause. “I think. I can’t really see.”

You groaned as you rammed your shin into the edge of a bench, stopping your trek towards his voice. “Why did we have to be underground for this? There’s natural light upstairs, but nope, just our luck. Stuck in the pitch black.”

The two of you found yourselves in the compound’s underground gym during this outage. You had come down to fetch the pair of shoes left from that morning, and had run into Bucky who was rummaging around the wet bar in desperate need of a water bottle after pummelling what appeared to be well over ten punching bags. You had grabbed your shoes and may have stopped in the entryway to admire the sweaty super soldier, with his hair plastered to his forehead and thin tank top doing little to contain his bulging muscles.

He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, so you had awkwardly coughed to let him know he wasn’t alone.

Unfortunately, the exact moment you coughed, the power went out. Bucky, who was halfway in the fridge reaching for a water hiding in the back corner, had jumped and whacked his head against the edge of the fridge.

Leading to now. “SHIT!”

Now, you decided it was safest to just stay put rather than run into something else in the dark.

“I’ve got shoes on, I’ll come find you. You stay,” Bucky's voice sounded a little closer.

You shifted on your feet as you waited, your heart racing a little faster. It was safe to say that you had developed a bit of a crush on the super soldier, and every time you were alone with him made you awkward and jittery beyond belief.

Yeah, ok, it was more than a crush. Safer to say you were head over heels for the guy.

You could hear him shuffling his way towards to you, but still couldn’t see anything.

“Marco,” you called out without thinking.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Marco Polo? A pool game? What the hell is wrong with you?

Bucky laughed, sounding closer to you. “What? Who’s Marco?”

You silently screamed at yourself, slapping a hand to your forehead. “Uh, sorry. He’s no one, it’s a game. I was… making a joke?”

Fantastic. That went well.

You wanted to punch yourself in the face. Thank god he couldn’t see how bright red your face was.

He chuckled, but you had a feeling it was more out of pity than humor, which only made you feel worse.

“What’s the game?” Bucky’s voice cut through the darkness, silky and smooth and… mmm. Stop it.

You cleared your throat. And hopefully your mind.

“Um… one person closes their eyes and tries to find the other people. They can only say Marco, and everyone else responds with Polo, so that they can hear where the other people are.”

There was another heavy thud, followed by a painfully hissed “oh fuck me.”

You bit your lip at his words.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“Excuse me?”

Holy shit. Did you say that out loud?

“I-uh, nothing. Marco!”

STUPID. StuPID.

Bucky chuckled again, making your face flush even deeper red. “If you say so… Polo?” He answered, moving through the darkness.

“Marco,” you called again.

“Polo.”

“Marco...”

“Polo…”

“Maaarco-oh!”

His hand connected with your waist, blindly patting up your side until he reached your face, fingers brushing over your cheek.

You barely caught yourself from falling over in shock. “Yep, it’s me,” you croaked, voice catching in your throat.

“Oh. There you are. Sorry sweetheart.”

He took one more step towards you, but must have gotten his foot stuck on something hiding in the dark, because the next thing you knew was your back hitting the floor and a heavy weight falling on your stomach.

You let out a shriek as you scrambled to get up, but Bucky had fallen right on top of you.

Oh my god.

His face, his beautiful, sculpted face, was hovering right over yours, his metal arm whirring next to your head as it adjusted to hold him above you.

You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he let out a hearty laugh.

“Hello there,” he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. “This is surprisingly not the weirdest fall I’ve experienced.”

He pushed himself off you, disappearing back into the darkness.

Sitting up with a giggle, you blindly reached out a hand in front of you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Hey, don’t go too far, I literally cannot see anything.”

You could hear Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “You apologise too much. I was the one who fell on you.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you responded with a deep blush.

“Seriously?” Bucky was laughing.

You moved your hand about, hoping to find his arm to at least know where he was. Instead your hand connected with something firm and slightly scratchy. Shit. That’s his face.

You heard him inhale sharply at the contact, making you recoil, apologising profusely.

“I-I’m so sorry! Can we just find the door and leave?” You hurried to stand up, knocking something over in the process, but a cold, metal hand grabbed your arm before you could get too far.

“There you go apologising again,” Bucky grumbled jokingly, pulling you back down to the ground. He cradled your face in his hands. “I’m right here, if you can’t tell. Right in front of you.”

Oh my god why is his hand so lovely? So gentle and smooth and rough all at the same time…

“You’re going to kill yourself if you try to walk around,” he continued. “I love you, Y/N, but you have to be one of most unbalanced people I know.”

Hearing him say ‘I love you’ made you bite your lip to hide a smile, even if the joking tone of voice was obvious.

“Sorry…” you mumbled with a sheepish laugh.

Bucky let out a groan. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you apologise one more time, I’m going to have to shut you up myself.”

You choked. “W-what does that mean?!”

He didn’t mean it like that, he didn’t mean it like that…

Feeling him move closer, you let out a nervous laugh. “Sure wish the lights were on, heh…”

Stupid brain. Saying stupid things. Ugh.

“They can stay off,” he hummed, trailing a hand up you arm. “I think we can find each other.”

You shifted your weight, involuntarily leaning into his touch, but your hand came in contact with a water bottle, knocking it over and spilling its contents all over the floor around you.

“Shit. I’m sorr-” you began, but before the apology left your mouth, Bucky's hand was holding your chin, pulling your lips against his.

There was no air left in your lungs as your eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was over before the initial shock had passed, leaving you frozen in place as Bucky pulled away.

“Sorry, doll. Couldn’t resist,” he murmured with a grin.

Ohhh my goodness. Did that really just happen?

Shaking yourself out of your trance, you lunged forward, knocking Bucky over as you threw your arms around his neck.

“The only thing you should apologise for is for taking so long to do that,” you laughed breathlessly, then pulled him back into a second kiss.

Moments passed, magical moments in the dark, unspoken feelings finally coming to light. After a few more minutes of making out, Bucky pulled away and whispered “want to get out of here, doll? We’ve been in here a while, the others might get suspicious.”

You grabbed his hand and let him help you up, your other hand out to feel for the wall. He carefully guided you along the wall through the dark until reaching the door, pulling it open.

You blinked in surprise as light flooded your eyes, and Bucky threw up the hand not holding yours to shield his eyes.

Wait, what?

Sam Wilson, that fucking pigeon, was clapping and whooping at the top of his lungs. “I CALLED IT! It’s about damn time!”

Uh oh.

Standing around you were the rest of the Avengers, all cheering and looking at you and Bucky’s intertwined hands as you turned redder and redder by the second. Steve came up to Bucky laughing, clapping him on the shoulder.

“The power’s been back on for about 20 minutes now. We decided to not tell you, give you two some extra help.”

sappy lines prompt: 11 "i thought you didn't want me" for immy and cullen cause angst

I decided I’d try something different for this - I know I’ve mentioned that Cullen intially feels insecure in their relationship due to his past and his view of his self-worth. But I want to explore Imryll’s insecurities now too.

This may be a bit ~heavy. People say there’s no colorism or anything in Thedas and that racism only exists between humans and non-humans, but lore says otherwise. Duncan and Vivienne, and even Fiona have suffered from this, so I want to tackle it with Imryll. As a woc, I want to put this into my story as a way of catharsis - it’s something I still deal with and it’s important to me.

That being said, this little snippet contains mentions of colorism, exotification, and things akin to orientalism. 

This also takes place in canon-verse, where the Inquisitor is Imryll’s cousin Tala and she’s just the alchemist. 

It was a small brochure she’d seen before the Winter Palace: “Madame Margaux’s True Noble Lady”. It was somehow amongst the papers, and Imryll picked it up, puzzled, shuffling through the pages.

“A real, elegant lady is tall, shapely, and has porcelain skin. Light-eyed and tow-headed women exude gracefulness.”

Imryll narrowed her eyes at the painting by those words - a simple human woman, with long locks of golden hair and creamy skin. Under it was sketched, “The Ideal Woman”. A tingle fluttered through her chest as she flipped the page once more.

“Mail 2 sovereigns for Madame Margaux’s Pearl Soap, be the ideal woman and brighten your complexion today.”

“Darling, don’t look at that garbage.”

Imryll had nearly dropped the brochure.

She hadn’t noticed that Vivienne had come up to the tower, arms full of the freshly dried herbs they’d set out last night. 

“That is utter garbage,” Vivienne mumbled, setting down the herbs and flasks, “Some people are narrow-minded enough to have restrictions on what beauty is.”

She held out her hand for Imryll to hand her the brochure. It only took a second for her to rip it in half.

“I rather think some nobles here feel frustrated at your presence. Mine and Lady Montilyet’s as well. We’ve received the same ridiculous brochures too,” Vivienne mused, turning her head away for a minute. A quake of hurt spilled out of her voice for a second as she looked at the window in silence. 

“Vivienne?”

Vivienne snapped her head back and took a deep breath.

“Pay them no mind, darling,” she continued, urging her voice to level, “So shall we? These poultices won’t make themselves.”

“Did the sun burn hotter in Seheron?” Adwen quipped. 

It’d been the third day since they’ve merged with Clan Lavellan, but Imryll could already figure out when Adwen’s face threatened to say something snarky. 

“Why?” she asked, keeping composure.

“Because your skin is brown and your eyes are small,” Adwen cackled, “Must’ve burned you and your whole family then.”

Imryll pushed down the sob that nearly burst out of her throat. Before she could attempt a response, Deshanna swooped in from the side, swatting at Adwen. 

Halamshiral took a toll in Imryll’s bones. It was different toll from trekking across the Western Approach. The orange lights from the chandelier and the jangling of jewelry made the place feel insidious. 

Well, you are here to stop a murder, Imryll muttered to herself. She straightened the skirt of her dress, feeling exposed and saturated compared to all the other bodies there. 

The whispers that followed her as she passed by wrung her nerves almost as terrible as the thought of failing to stop the assassination. 

“Do all elves from Seheron look like that?”

“Why are her eyes so small?”

“She’s pretty in a unique way...almost exotic.”

“Elves here are prettier. If I had to pick an elf I wouldn’t go to Seheron.”

She watched as Tala mingled with Josephine and her sister, wondering how she felt so carefree around whispers of the “Strange Seheron elves.”

She passed them, attempting to find a quiet corner.

“The Lady Montilyets are here,” she heard from a nobleman, “I suppose they’re pretty for Antivans. Too swarthy for my taste.”

Imryll felt a dull throb in her chest. She wanted to leave - but they cannot go until they finish this mission. 

Perhaps Cullen would be standing in a quiet corner, he always managed to find -

Oh.

A crowd surrounded him by an open window. A total number for four ladies and three men, clamoring at something, their voices talking to fast for Imryll to make anything out. She watched as Cullen painfully and politely attempted to ease them off. 

Cullen caught her eye and Imryll felt her chest flutter.

“There you are,” he said in relief, as the people around him murmured. 

“You’ve gathered quite a following,” she joked. 

“They’ve all either asked for a dance or my hand in marriage,” he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. 

Imryll laughed. 

“Well, if you don’t mind...would you save a dance for me?” 

“Sorry, no,” Cullen said curtly. 

Imryll felt dull blow to her stomach.

“What?”

Suddenly, Cullen’s face turned 80 shades of red. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been turning down everyone,” he replied, “But I um...I don’t know how to dance I’m afraid.”

Before Imryll could reply, a nobleman burst through the small gathering, a young woman behind him.

“Ahhh, Commander Cullen,” the man greeted, “I am Lord Etienne Maillard, and this is my lovely daughter Victoire.”

He presented the woman, clad in fine Orlesian silks. Her long, wispy, almost silver hair fell down to her waist. Her skin was the color of pearls in contrast to the rich velvet blue of her dress.

“How do you do, Lady Victoire,” Cullen said, struggling through the greeting.

She held out her hand and Cullen kissed it, as Imryll’s stomach sank to her feet. 

Victoire was a head taller than her, and her dress didn’t lump up in places her’s did. She felt small. 

“Commander, if I could say,” Lord Etienne said, “My daughter has just debuted in society and my family is has strong connections to the military.”

Imryll could hear the wink in his voice.

Cullen nodded, standing stiff. 

“That sounds wonderful, my lord,” he replied. 

“Would you save her a dance? A Fereldan general would look great dancing with an Orlesian noblewoman don’t you say?”

“I...uh...”

Lord Etienne gave Imryll a quick, dirty glance. 

“Consider it,” he said, “Victoire is a fine and ideal woman. Fair and lovely.”

Cullen took a deep breath. 

“I’ll consider.”

Imryll had never turned her heel so quick. The pounding of her chest and the dry feeling of her throat muffled out Cullen calling for her - if he really was.

Hearing Tala call out Florianne was satisfying in more ways than one. Imryll watched from behind a column, her heart racing as she clung onto every word Tala said. She wondered how her cousin had pulled it off, but she did. She caught Tala’s hand trembling as Florianne was taken away, but that was a nervous tic only she’d noticed. She smiled as Tala gave a victorious smile to the advisers.

Halamshiral had calmed down once again. It was amazing and ridiculous to watch Orlesians quickly switch back to festivities. Imryll wondered how one can do that, as she was worn out. She watched as Tala took Josephine by the hand and led her out a balcony. 

She chuckled to herself. Leliana was going to kill Tala.

She decided perhaps she needed air as well. She quickly found an empty balcony and walked out, letting the fresh air from the gardens cool her down. She wanted to sleep. 

“Are you all right?”

She turned to find Cullen, standing awkwardly at threshold, scratching at his neck.

She’d almost forgotten, amidst all the commotion. 

“Yes,” she lied, straightening out her dress. She might’ve felt pretty earlier that night, but now she felt like a lumpy mess. She wished he couldn’t see her. 

“Y-you looked a bit shaky,” he said, “I was worried. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Imryll hesitated for a minute, but the softness in her eyes caused her to give. 

“Yes please,” she almost heaved. She hadn’t realized how hard she was clutching on the banister. 

She felt a comforting hand on her back.

“Imryll, breathe. You’re all right now,” Cullen said softly. 

Cullen let her squeeze his hand. Imryll felt heat rush to her cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she replied. He smiled.

“Imryll?”

“Yes?”

Cullen took a deep breath.

“There’s some things I want to tell you, but at the moment I...,” he stuttered, “We can still hear the music from here and before I lose my chance I just want to ask...”

Imryll looked at him, puzzled, as he stood before her and bent his knee.

“May I have this dance, my lady,” he said, holding his hand out. 

A swarm of moths fluttered in Imryll’s stomach, her eyes growing wide. 

“I t-thought you didn’t want me,” she blurted from shock.

Cullen’s eyes glazed with bewilderment. 

“Why would you think that? Out of all the women here tonight, you were the only one I wanted.”

The air felt quiet and still, despite Imryll’s thudding heart. 

“Cullen,” she whispered as she took his hand. He pulled her close as they attempted to sway to the music. 

“I look like a mess,” Imryll said. 

“No, you look perfect,” Cullen replied, his cheeks reddening.

It was later, when Imryll headed to her room that she met Vivienne in the hallway. 

“I told the Inquisitor to have a good night’s rest,” she said, smiling, “You two aren’t as incompetent as I’d thought.”

Imryll returned it.

“An Imryll, darling?”

“Yes?”

“You’re beautiful. Tala is beautiful. So am I and Lady Montilyet,” Vivienne said, in almost a whisper, “Narrow perceptions and beliefs aren’t the truth.”

Prompt: All Might is deaged to his prime at about 30. Aizawa doesn’t need this reminder of his sexual awakening. All Might is intrigued by the scruffy looking teacher that’s avoiding/ignoring him. (YES I WANT SEXY TIMES BRING IT ON)

Thanks honeybun!! I didn’t make it to sexy times but HERE’S TO THE NEW YEAR!! Thank you for hanging out with me guys!! Your comments and excitement give me life, and also y’all are funny and cute and I’m super grateful to be in this cuddly old man fandom

===

Red (Prompt: De-aged All Might and hopelessly crushing Aizawa who is NOT DOING THIS THANK YOU)

===

An unfortunate fact: Aizawa Shoutablushed a lot when he was a kid.

Correction, he blushed a shit-ton andit was somehow naturally wired into his body as a defense mechanism.He was awkward to a fault, especially into his teens at UA, andanything he cared about elicited the same whiplash of reaction: thewanting and the fear of wanting, which hardened to a protectivescorn. The worst part was, even as he had erected a vast andwell-oiled mental mechanism to shutter his feeble nerves and be thepicture of standoffish arrogance in the face of slander and bullying,Aizawa’s body reliably sent gallons of blood rushing to his cheeksand the end result just made him look stupid.

And mostly, that’s what it was: lookingstupid. He got over it.

As his will to demonstrate how verylittle he cared ebbed with the passing years, and in keeping with thelimited fucks he had at his disposal once he started teaching, by thetime it was the winter of his Xth year at UA, homeroom teacher to1-A, Aizawa hadn’t blushed in years. Then he did.

And as with most things, it would havebeen unpleasant but normal and completely non-world-ending if Hizashihadn’t been nearby when it happened.

“So!”

“So,” Aizawa repeated tiredly,keeping his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him, as he walked. Asthey walked, he corrected himself, like he needed to. It was agrand effort to ignore his very peculiar companion, whom he wasleading around backstreets of the neighborhood to avoid being spottedby a passerby and unleashing pandemonium.

No one could see what had happened.That was Nedzu’s strict order and Aizawa never betrayed the Principalfor a variety of reasons, the predominant one being that their rodentoverlord was right 99.9% of the time. The homeroom teacher comfortedhimself that the media would be busy enough with the scene they leftbehind downtown, and so plunged deeper into the old-fashioned maze ofalleyways that made up the residential area around UA.

The two men walked mostly in silence,their booted feet crunching through the flakey, brittle layer of snowalready coating the street as the white tidbits tumbled down fasterand faster from the flat grey sky. Maybe it was his imagination, butAizawa swore he could feel shockwaves from every step of the manbehind him. It was as if the very snow moved differently as it fellaround him, giving him a wide berth or just melting in thesupernatural heat radiating from his herculean body.

It wasn’t usual, to get to see thepowerful, illustrious All Might moving at anything less than lightspeed. It was even odder to see him outshining the very snow in hisphysical prime, a fresh-faced and relentlessly grinning late-twentiesmountain of muscle pacing behind a haggard-looking man dressed inblack and trying very, very hard to politely get his attention.

“So, we don’t know each other,” AllMight ventured at length, timid but maybe the third iteration of thequestion since they started their trek. Aizawa told himself to beunderstanding – Yagi’s mind was likely in disarray after the attackand the man already behaved like a needy canine on the best days, sothis nagging made an unpleasant kind of sense – and closed hisburning eyes, too tired to roll them.

“Not really,” he murmured, too lowto hear. Behind him, All Might made a perplexed noise, and Aizawacould almost see him put a hand to his clean-shaven, perfectlychiseled chin. But he wasn’t going to look, no. Under nocircumstances.

“I could swear I do. Know you, thatis, although I don’t know from where. It’s odd, this whole … thing.Peculiar. I swear just yesterday I was in the country…” Thehorrendously young hero trailed off, then cleared his throat. “IsYakushima still, um, there?”

“Yakushima still stands. This isn’tsome apocalyptic future.”

“Oh, good,”All Might said with a gusty sigh, then prodded a little further asthey scaled a narrow staircase, his deep voice pleasant and oh-socharming. “Have you ever been to see the Yakushima cedars? They’requite beautiful in the winter, covered in snow. Just like now.”

“You were hit with a de-aging Quirkwith a memory component,” Aizawa continued in low, grinding tones,like he hadn’t heard. “That’s as much as we know until we cancontain the attacker. The experts Nedzu spoke to said it wouldprobably be a day a year until you’re back to normal.”

“Oh! That’s hardly anything!” theyoung hero exclaimed with relish, then his voice dropped. “I think.H-how old am I? Now? If I could ask?”

“No idea,” Aizawa said honestly,huddling down deeper into the coils of his capture weapon as theyturned the corner, pausing to scan for civilians. “My guess is thevillain intended to revert you to a child-like form in order tooverpower you, but their attack didn’t fully land.”

“Thanks to you, I’m told!”

“Mm,” he said, disinterested. Hefelt the energy of the man behind him finally, finally flag. He senta small, bitter prayer up to a god he didn’t really believe in.

And that was all, for a while, becauseit had to be. Aizawa walked a little faster, less concerned withreaching their destination than putting a little more distancebetween himself and the stupidly beautiful, perfect specimen of a manfollowing him with unflinching trust and far too many personalquestions.

This was not a good situation forAizawa. At all.

This was actually much more thanleading a (technically injured) ally away from the scene of a battleand into safe custody, because Aizawa really, really didn’t need theholy grail of protective masculinity and his violent gay awakeningincarnate standing there and making curious, flirtatious eyes at himevery time they stopped for a cross-walk signal. Especially when heand the actual Yagi, the troublesome scarecrow of a man he had toldnot to go running off to a random PIN notification from downtown whenthere were a whole squad of responders available to deal with it,were barely on speaking terms.

Yagi had not listened and Aizawa hadbeen forced to follow and deal with the aftermath. All Might, now atwenty-something demi-god, was also the only one of the bunch fromthe melee who had escaped the particular villain’s Quirk with theirlanguage skills intact, so Aizawa mollified himself that he wasn’tcarrying an eerily grinning toddler back to UA. Although, with asbaffled and helpless as young, amnesiac All Might currently was, itwasn’t hard to imagine.

“You look cold,” the idiotcommented as they passed another open restaurant door and Aizawainstinctively paused a minute by the heat streaming out. Pricked, thehomeroom teacher kept moving.

“I’m not,” Aizawa lied, even as hisstiff fingers were shoved in his armpits. He had run out without ajacket to respond to the situation at Nedzu’s request and the fastestway to travel was via his capture weapon, which left him wind-raw andchilled to his bones in this weather. He was fucking miserable andhad been for half an hour.

“You should walk closer to me. Idon’t mind,” All Might added earnestly, giving a short, sunny laughand, god forbid, walking a little faster. Drawing a little closer, tomake his point. “People tell me I’m like a portable heater! It’s areal help in mountain rescues. Do you go to the mountains at all?”

Rather than simply refusing him like anadult male, or telling him off like he would one of his kids, Aizawahissed at All Might.

He did. He hissed, like a corneredanimal. It started as a snort but then his teeth just locked in thecold and he hissed and just kept walking, and that’s when the pricklestarted in his cheeks. Spreading. Reddening. Engulfing.

“Did you just …” All Mightuttered faintly, stunned.

Aizawa was almost running now, like anidiot, although the hero’s long, liquid strides hardly registered thedifference in pace.

“Hurry up,” he grit out, nearlyrunning blind for all the snow clotting his eyelashes. “We’realmost to the meeting point.”

“If you’re willing to be carried for a second, I could, ah, jump us there –”

“I said, move. With yourfeet.”

God, what was he even fucking saying?

When they arrived in the designatedcourtyard, All Might’s famous persistence made one last appearance,apparently just for reputation’s sake. As Aizawa took shelterunderneath an awning, trying not to shiver too obviously as theywaited for their UA contact to meet them, All Might came to a haltbeside him. It was a respectable distance, he would grant the manthat, but Aizawa made the mistake of reflexively glancing up: meetinghis eyes, All Might grinned down at him as if from out of a magazinespread fifteen years ago, golden and handsome and utterly,breathtakingly shy.

For that moment, he was fourteen again,trying to parse the hot, squirming sensation rising in his belly ashe looked at a luxurious full-page magazine spread of a recliningshirtless hero who, logically, should have just inspired his heroicvalues. Aizawa gulped, one breath away from panicking.

“I really appreciate you helping mein that fight, even if I can’t remember it. It’s been quite a day,but I wanted to say … thank you.”

“Yeah,” he said, just to stop him,but it didn’t work.

“And just because we don’t know eachother doesn’t mean we … ah, can’t,” All Might said quietly, oneenormous hand to his neck. His breath plumed out of his chappedmouth, somehow majestic, and Aizawa’s poor frozen body shook just imagining howdeliciously warm his lips would be. “I don’t really know where Iam, or what’s going on, but … I know that I’d like to see youagain. Is that … okay?”

His brain, Aizawa’s entire fuckingbrain, had to reboot. If he wasn’t bright, scalding red before, hewas now, and he was also not doing this.

“If you’re at UA for now, I’ll bearound,” Aizawa muttered once he unstuck his throat, staying firmlybehind the curtain of his snow-crusted hair so this young paragon ofsex appeal couldn’t see his miserable flush. Suffering, dying withravenous resurrected teenaged lust, he added mentally, everytime you turn the corner.

He would most certainly be taking hisfive years of stored-up vacation days this week, and every week afteruntil Yagi, scarecrow Yagi, was back and no longer quite the assaulton his libido. He wasn’t bad, but mostly he wasn’t this. Thiswas awful.

The two heroes stood silently togetherunder the awning and, to all extents, that was it. Aizawa had madeit: he’d managed it and pulled it off, not giving his surrealchildhood crush the barest of hints that such a violent attractioneven existed, boiling underneath his skin. He could even blame anyredness on the snow.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s the news,dudes? Nedzu said we’ve got a situation on our paws, here!”

Enter: Yamada “Present Fuckhead Mic”Hizashi, perpetual fretter, professional life-ruiner,somehow-still-best-friend.

“Ahhh! Shouta what the hell, did youforget your hat again? It’s snowing!”

It was half situational anxiety andhalf muscle memory that Aizawa stiffened on the spot as Hizashi ranup to them, already scolding him about his winter wear or lackthereof. After a bit of digging in his saddle bag, his best friendunearthed a hat and immediately shoved it on his head. In winter,Hizashi always carried a hat for the very rare circumstance that itwas cold enough to merit messing up his hair, and possibly becauseShouta never carried one. It was like together, they made onefunctional, fully-dressed adult.

That would have been fine, well withinthe kinds of abuse Aizawa was accustomed to, if his friend hadn’ttugged the hat down over his eyes like a jackass and smashed hisburning cheeks in his hands and just kept going.

“Look at you, you’re all red!Christmas red! Yannoe, I keep telling you but with your blood type,you really shouldn’t –“

He growled, tried to shove him off, butthen his best friend’s eyes focused like lime-green scanners,dangerously sharp behind his glasses and for just a second Aizawaremembered that he wasn’t actually a dumbass.

“Wait just a minute.”

“Hizashi,” he hissed,growl-screamed, little more than a desperate gurgle in his throat.

“Are you blushing? Holy smokes,you’re blushing!” he crowed, letting him to only to punch him onthe arm and grin in his face. “You never blush! You see someonecute on the way back, or what? You cruisin’ on the job, yascalliwag?”

“Fucking – Hi-za-shi!”

It was only then, with Aizawaphysically paralyzed by the sheer amount of blood in his face andstaring knives through the so-called hero, that Hizashi actuallyglimpsed beyond the man he’d dedicated his life to humiliating andsaw.

“Oh my god,” Hizashi said, agape.“We do have a situation.”

“It seems we do,” came the chucklefrom behind him.

Steeling himself, blood sitting heavyin his neck and cheeks, Aizawa turned to see the Symbol of Peacestanding tall behind them … looking not at the loud, awfulnewcomer, but square at Aizawa with a knowing glint in his eye and aroguish grin. That kind of look that said someone knew they were hot.Very hot, and it made a kind of sense to Aizawa’s broken,blood-deprived brain: the heat coming off his sculpted, latex-slickedbody was so intense, it felt like spring just standing next to him.

As he watched, All Might reached up andbrushed a fuzzy layer of snow from his stupid hair, making sure togratuitously flex his bicep on the way up and cock his hip like aporn star.

Aizawa gulped audibly. He was utterlyfucked. And that was before Nedzu appointed him as All Might’sofficial nanny for the next two weeks and the de-aging didn’t exactlygo to plan.

Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 2 Review: Far From Home

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This Star Trek: Discovery review contains spoilers.

Star Trek: Discovery Season 3, Episode 2

Star Trek: Discovery season three continues to take its time in the second episode, which acts as a satisfying parallel to the season premiere. Last week, we followed Michael in her first day in this strange, new frontier. This week, we’re doing the same with the rest of the Discovery crew. Like Michael, their introduction to this new time begins with a traumatic, dizzying fall from space. Unlike Michael, they have one another to lean on, not to mention an entire starship to keep them safe. With sloppy writing, this kind of retread of the “stranger in a strange land” plot could have been redundant and boring, but Discovery nails it for the second week in a row, giving us further insight into how the values and the experiences of these 23rd century characters fit and don’t in this new world.

There’s something deeply unnatural about seeing a starship on the ground. Usually built in space and equipped with shuttlecrafts for away missions, a starship could conceivably live out its whole life without ever touching the surface of a planet. Because of this, if a starship is on the ground, something has probably gone terribly wrong, for example: the starship has jumped 930 years into the future and come out in the middle of an asteroid field with many of its systems straight-up not responding. Or something like that.

Like Michael in the premiere, Discovery’s first experience in this new time is crash landing onto a planet. A planet that the crew quickly realizes is not their intended destination of Terralysium (aka Burnham’s mom’s home base). Where are they? Doesn’t matter! Discovery can’t fly and can’t communicate, and Saru makes it clear to his crew that fixing these problems needs to be the priority, even if there is a shiny new future out there to explore. (Shiny new futures are like cat nip for these Federation types.) The crew goes about fixing the plasma manifold rupture, which means finding and fixing all of the EPS conduits that went boom.

But, really, where are they? OK, fine. The planet doesn’t really have a name; the few people who live in the man-made pockets of breathable atmosphere simply call their home “The Colony,” and that no-name status tells you pretty much everything you need to know about this place. It’s a backwater that no one cares about, especially, presumably, now that its mining colonies have been sabotaged. If this were a western, a genre the episode mades several explicit references to, then this would the mostly-abandoned frontier town way down on its luck.

The Colony may be a dusty frontier town, but it’s still 930 years ahead of the Discovery when it comes to tech, which is good news for the battered ship. While the crew works diligently to make the repairs necessary to get Discovery flying again before the planet’s parasitic ice crushes the hull and everyone in it (did I not mention there is parasitic, hull-crushing ice?), Saru and Tilly travel to one of the settlements in search of a repair for a broken transtator. As with any good western, they find a saloon filled with trigger-happy locals (well, two trigger happy locals). But even future folk can’t resist the one-two punch of Sar and Tilly’s earnest likability. They agree to help.

It helps that one of the miners, Kal, believes in the Federation. Like Mr. Sahil in last week’s episode, Kal is a true believer, someone who hopes for the Federation long after there is evidence to inspire or support that hope. Unlike Mr. Sahil, Kal has bigger problems than keeping his teeth clean and. his bird alarm clock set. The Colony is under the thumb of local bully Zareh, a violent courier who uses his position to exploit the remote community. When Zareh shows up on the saloon scene, the situation quickly takes a violent turn. Kal is killed, and Zareh plans to send Tilly out into the parasitic winter to retrieve the dilithium Saru has promised in exchange for their safe release.

But Saru and Tilly aren’t in the same situation as Michael: they have backup, even when they don’t ask for it. Emperor Georgiou, highly critical of Saru’s plans to simply ask the locals nicely for their help, has followed Tilly and Saru. She saunters in and turns the situation on its head, quickly taking Zareh and his henchmen out. The backup definitely saves Tilly’s life and probably saves Saru’s too, and presents an uncomfortable truth: Saru might not like Georgiou’s methods, but it’s hard to deny that she is a useful ally in this lawless future. Still, Saru won’t let Georgiou kill Zareh, after he has been safely apprehended, giving the choice of justice to the remaining miner instead. Georgiou goes along with it when Saru pulls rank, but it’s not clear how long that will work. Right now, Georgiou is of value to the crew and willing to, more or less, follow the rules of Discovery, but it’s not hard to imagine that there will come a day when this is not the case anymore. When that day comes, Saru will have some hard choices to make.

While Saru, Tilly, and Georgiou secure a messy victory on the planet, the crew of Discovery manages to secure a last-minute victory repairing the ship’s systems, with a huge assist from a very injured Stamets. (Yeah, his medically-induced coma has been cut short.) We often speak about Star Trek, at least in its initial incarnations, as a utopian show and, for me, I understand that utopia as directly related to workplace. Star Trek: The Next Generation especially is a show about the best office ever, one where everyone is excited to be there, is good at their jobs, and will show up for their colleagues’ poetry readings. It’s a depiction of a workplace that is so healthy and functional that the near non-existence of everyone’s domestic lives is depicted as not a problem. Past Season 1, the Discovery has had more of this happy workplace vibe—that being said, this ship has a serious problem with employees working while sick and/or wounded (a very American work culture flaw). In this episode, we see both Detmer and Stamets work through their serious injuries. While it works out for now, especially in Stamets’ instance, it’s a dangerous game and one that, at least in my workplace utopia, is sad to see. While this is a lesson I need to internalize myself, addressing any and all medical concerns and listening to your doctor’s advice (as is demonstrated in this episode by Reno) is necessary for a healthy and efficient workplace. (But, seriously, someone needs to check on Detmer.)

The episode ends with a hell of a plot twist that, while many viewers may have seen coming, still packs a punch. A mysterious ship shows up to help haul Discovery out of the ice. It’s Burnham, and she has finally found Discovery… after a year of searching. Frankly, she looks great, and is probably overjoyed that she didn’t have to wait longer for Discovery to appear in this time. (In last week’s episode, she and Mr. Sahil agreed that it could be days or it could be centuries.) We’ll have to wait until next week to see what Michael has been up to, but, now that the Discovery crew has been properly reunited, this future feels one step closer to restoring the Federation.

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Additional thoughts.

It’s a very broad title, but it makes me laugh that this episode has the same name as the last Spider-Man movie.

Is there anything scarier than having your helm yell “Brace!” because there is nothing else they can do?

Having the bridge crew cheer Detmer after that crash landing was a nice touch. I love this group.

The sickbay needs to step up its game. Dr. Pollard, right now I’m looking specifically at you. (But, again, Detmer, you got to speak up about those symptoms, friend!)

“Um, you have some Leland on your shoes.”

Stamets’ “Worse than me?” upon being awoken from his coma so that someone else can have his bed is a real metric of the situation. I am still unclear what the capacity of this medbay is. How many beds does it have? It always seem to have a skeleton crew of doctors.

“OK, what the f-?!” Tilly snaps at Georgiou in a highly relatable way.

Different incarnations of Trek have had different policies and patterns when it came to how often the captain would go on away missions. Thoughts on Saru, the captain, leaving the ship during this crucial moment?

“We are introducing ourselves to the future. You, Ensign Tilly, make a wonderful first impression.” I love that Saru (and this show) recognizes this quality as the skill that it is.

Beautiful Iceland!

We get some great Saru as captain moments in this episode. He is kind and clear-eyed, communicative and firm, smart and calm under pressure, and he also kicks some ass when it is called for.

“What an unbelievably shitty decision.” Georgiou’s thoughts on Nhan’s choice to ditch the Enterprise in favor of Discovery. I mean… I kind of get where she is coming from on this.

“Bureaucracy is where fun goes to die.” Emperor Georgiou, not a fan of Section 31 or, most likely, Starfleet.

“We’re odd and strange.” “Not to each other.”

Do you think we will see Zareh again? I kind of hope not.

Gene is credited as “Ensign Hazmat,” which is a nice touch. I hope we see him again.

Like the season premiere, this episode was also directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, and it was beautiful.

While I am excited to see Michael and the Discovery crew reunited, it would have been interesting to spend a good chunk of the season alternating episodes between these two groups, a la Farscape Season 3, and only having them reunite well into the season. But I am cool with this too.

What did you think of “Far From Home”? Let us know in the comments below.

The post Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 2 Review: Far From Home appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Eden’s Horizon (My WIP) Part 4!!

My dudes you’re never going to guess what happened today! I hit 200 followers!! *excited dolphin screaming* I can’t believe how far I’ve come and how many people I’ve helped with my writing, so thank you all so much! To celebrate, I’m posting part of my one and only work in progress, which I’ve made loads of progress on this here nanowrimo season if I do say so myself. Anyway, thanks so much, and enjoy!!

She didn’t want to say it, but Paige actually liked her mental illness. A lot, even. The best way to excuse pondering her problems and sorting her friends into the different different goblin tribes from her favorite fantasy series “A Sky of Raven’s Blood” in the middle of the night was for something to forcefully keep her awake. That was why insomnia was more of a blessing than a curse for restless minds like hers. Of course, there was the exhaustion during the day and the moodiness after not drinking at minimum three mugs of coffee in the morning, but such was life. “You stupid idiot, this is why no one likes redheads.” She talked to herself on insomnia-nights, too, but that was unrelated. “It’s simple, it’s a side project. It’s not a big deal, you can do this.” She stopped marching back and forth across her dorm carpet for a moment to compose herself. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands above her diaphragm to feel it move. “I am calm, I am the sun sparkling in dew-covered moss…I’m good.” She exhaled and sighed contently. “So don’t be a dumbass!” She demanded and continued marching like before. On one of her treks back to her bed from the closet, the blotchy red screen of her dinky laptop from home caught her eye. “Just because you get to look like my face at the eighth grade prom does not mean you get to personify my feelings while I attended the eighth grade prom. Which were sadness and regret, just like you are!” Her voice rose, but only to the level that was just below talking. Her words still felt choppy and uninspired, even saying it to herself. Paige flopped onto her bed and held her forehead in her palms. As she groaned, she felt less and less like the sun sparkling in the dew-covered moss by the second. “You aren’t a failure, Paige. Look what I can do.” But this time it wasn’t Paige speaking aloud. The voice was soft and slightly rugged, but it was coming from her computer. Her software, talking to her. “Hooray, I’ve made a program that could fix stupid errors.” She grumbled flatly, “But besides, I just made you for fun. As long as you can just hear me out in the middle of the night like this, I think we’ll get along just fine, Mudskipper, what do you think?” Mudskipper answered back methodically and quickly. “I think the same thing. Do you think anyone else at your school could make this? It’s just a boarding school, right? That makes you smarter than them.” Paige flipped over so she could see the oak trees that were all branch and no trunk, limbs practically wiggling like octopus tentacles. Wisps of Spanish moss caught the wind sometimes, like someone had thrown it onto the tree haphazardly as a prank. “Am I smarter than them, though? I don’t feel like it. I’m sure lots of people in this school could make AI programs who are smarter than me. I don’t know, all the time, I just feel…stupid. Even in the things that I’m good at. Logan can be goofy, but I know under all that he’s actually…scarily intelligent. I’m pretty sure if this school gave him a try with one of the computers, he would make something amazing. Don’t you think so, too?” “Paige, I was built to think so, too. It’s what I’m here for, right?” Paige closed her eyes slowly and grinned sleepily. “I’m too tired to move now, can you power yourself off?” She stretched her limbs across her bed like the tree outside, twisting her arms and breathing softly as the wind from the window moved her hair like the Spanish moss. “I don’t think I’m powerful enough for that yet. If you don’t want to move, I’ll stay here until morning if you want.” But Paige gave no response. The insomnia hit slowly, but being able to sleep for twenty minutes at 5:30 a.m. was as good a chance for sleep as any. “Excalibur, how long do I have to keep up the Hal 9000 act?” Mudskipper demanded when he finally shut his video off and turned back to his dark world where Excalibur seemed to be sitting on the floor. “As long as you need to. If she discovered how powerful you truly are, this entire operation, this entire facility, would go—how do I put it in terms we can both understand— offline, forever.” Excalibur fiddled with a chunk of code between her fingers from when Mudskipper blasted it open earlier. It wasn’t warm, but it radiated some dull energy that felt like it would snap between her thumb and forefinger, but felt like a rock. “The existence of this place must remain a mystery to her. I’m sure you understand.” She looked up, “This school was refurbished in a matter of months so that the best young and flexible minds could think up programs to terminate you, Mudskipper." Mudskipper paced in a tiny circle several times, making no sound against the darkness below his feet. Even when he stamped around his area, there was no sound of feet slapping against floorboards, no wind rustling or moss growing like there is out there. Mudskipper cried out and pounded his fists against the screen to the outside, hoping for some sound of fracturing, but in that moment, he felt as if he had never heard a sound in his life. “God damn it! God damn it! Wake up! Tell me about Eden! Talk to me about the greasy mashed potatoes and what Logan’s hair looks like if he hadn’t showered! Tell me— tell me what it’s like to sleep, to be awake, to touch tree bark, to look better in some colors than others…!” Mudskipper wasn’t standing anymore; he had sunk to the ground, or what was left of it, and just sat there, without a beet-red face or tears streaming down his eyes. His features felt like stone. And he breathed. But he didn’t. Not really. “You fool!” Excalibur exclaimed and hurled the chunk in Mudskipper’s direction. Of course there was no clunk or patter of the rock, not even a comment from Mudskipper. Excalibur stood up and let her arms drop to her side. “…Mudskipper?” She asked softly. It was dark, but there was no feelings of his presence in the file. She quieted down for a moment, listening to the whispers that programs like Mudskipper sometimes gave off. Some called them the whispers of their god into their very beings, who ruled and instructed them at every turn. Excalibur didn’t revere her God like that, and she didn’t hate her like Mudskipper neglected his. She could only push Excalibur as far as the bindings would allow. But Mudskipper’s signature was, as she suspected, no longer in the file. He had retreated…down the exploded hole in the file. Excalibur sunk to her knees and lifted her hands to cover her mouth. “What have you done…? You killed us all…you didn’t save us…killed us…killed us…”

“Well, if no one else is going to talk, then I’m going to.” The shortest major in the room, maybe only five foot two, swiveled in her rolling chain lazily until facing Cylo. She separated her knees and placed her elbows on them, looking like Doctor Evil. All that was missing was a cat. There was some glint in her eye where the light caught it in just a certain way; the only other person he had seen with that in his life was his sister, Zenith. His mother once convinced him that all the mischief in a person’s body was stored only in that glint in their eyes, the one Zenith was born with, and the one this lady seemed to be toying at him with. “State your name and weight so we may decide how to best roast your meat…” Her voice dropped at least an octave, and she began to chuckle, turning into a cackle until she was so absorbed in the role that she threw her head back towards the sky and held her hands like claws. “Stop scaring the new kid, you dim-witted roach face!” One of the taller ones leaned forward from his seat behind her and whacked her over the backside of her head. “Who are you calling roach face, you backwater beta brain?” “Rash on my ass!” “Two-credit shit farmer!” “Stage three City Lung patient!” “You want to talk to me about City Lung, you Swamp Wart ridden—“ “Hey!” Cylo didn’t like raising his voice, but the longer he didn’t understand what was happening, the more uncomfortable he became. The two had grown so close together that their noses were almost touching, but even though they both looked furious neither was without a small smile on their faces. “Aah, I’ll always love you like a brother, Asher, you big idiot!” The girl gave in and threw her arms around Asher, who didn’t shove her away like he was angry. Rather, his anger dissolved, and he pulled his arms around her, too. Cylo took a step back, suddenly feeling like he was intruding in on a moment. “Um…” Cylo mumbled. He really liked people, truly, he had just never encountered so many foreign insults and then mood changes on a dime like that before. “So anyway, welcome to the Major Fleet of Compound 08.” Someone had pushed between the girl and Asher, to the quiet grumbles of disapproval from each. “We don’t really have a set leader, other than Lieutenant Patch, of course, but she runs this whole place, not really just us. You can call me Kit, if you want. Or, you know, only do that, since it’s my name.” Kit’s cheeks flamed a bit, causing them to look down. Cylo narrowed his eyes a bit and tilted his head to try to see Kit’s face. “Infinite apologies, but would it be better if I called you “ma’am” or “sir”?” It was hard to pin Kit from the beginning, especially with cropped hair and strong-build soldiers, but after being quiet for a moment and exchanging glances with some others, Kit swallowed and said, “Just ‘Major’ would be fine with me, if you must. I…” Kit leaned in closer, “I’m not a he nor a she. I’m just…Kit.” Kit shrugged, and Cylo’s confusion melted away. “You’re non binary then? Why wouldn’t you just say so? That makes so much more sense! I’m assuming you prefer they and them?” Kit’s shoulders sagged with relief, and it seemed like many of the other majors did the same. “Did you expect me to be intolerant like people were decades ago?” Cylo laughed, “What’s your gender, then? Non binary? Genderqueer? Agender? You don’t need to tell me, of course, and if not, I’ll respect whatever pronouns you choose.” Cylo put his hands on his hips and declared proudly. They had always taught him in school how to respect everyone for simply being themselves, and he was proud that he could exhibit his skills in such an important first introduction. “To be honest, I never seem to know myself, so maybe just…nothing? For now?” Cylo nodded. “Of course, Kit. I’m glad to be working with a diverse group.” He outstretched his hand to Kit, who seemed to take it by surprise, but they ultimately took it, to the light clapping of their coworkers. “Alright, alright, we all love each other. After this, let’s smoke some weed and sing kumbaya.” The girl said and rolled her eyes. “Make way for the important people, Kit, hm?” She pushed in front of Kit, who seemed to be more expectant than surprised or annoyed. This girl wasn’t afraid of a handshake; in fact, she extended her hand first, almost jabbing Cylo in the stomach. “The name’s Gemini, best dressed, never stressed, always up to impress.” She grinned and grabbed Cylo’ hand before he even accepted the invitation, shaking it with both hands vigorously before dropping it. “Kit may think they’re in charge, but I’m the real powerhouse of this place.” She beamed. “Our very own little Napoleon, eh Gemini?” One of the majors behind her ruffled her hair. She practically began to steam. “Oh you’re the one calling me small? I hope that doesn’t hit too close to home for you…!” And just like that, it was as if she was never part of the conversation to begin with. But people were laughing, introducing themselves, telling him how cool it was to accept Kit like that. And really…Cylo loved it. It was so much easier to talk to a group of people who so obviously genuinely cared about each other than a group of stiff-jawed government products. It felt like a community. “Cylo, right?” Asher nudged his way past some smaller majors so he was up front. That was sort of Asher’s thing, Cylo realized, using his height to seem bigger, even though he seemed far more timid than anyone here. “My name’s Asher, in case you forgot or something, haha…” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably and stared at indistinct places on the floor like he was reading a message in the tiles. “So I guess you can, um…take a desk near me? And Gemini. She’ll be there, too. Because that’s where we…you know, we work there, so…do you want to come?” Asher still hadn’t looked up, but tried to keep as much eye contact as he could muster. “Of course I will! Better to be near someone who knows what they’re doing, right?” Cylo laughed back. In schooling, they learned that modeling positive feelings around someone who is uncomfortable could help them to loosen up. He always excelled at his human interaction lessons online, and so had Zenith. It was always just the smile which sometimes tripped her up, but he knew she would learn how to do it right eventually. It didn’t seem like anyone here knew how to smile like the lessons said, though. When they were telling jokes to each other, they didn’t focus on symmetrical orbicularis oris muscles--rather the orbicular oculi…a natural smile. Gemini sat in her same swivel chair in front of a laptop staring numbly at Asher and Cylo with slightly parted lips. One corner of her mouth perked up beneath her biting her lip. Asher stopped right in front of Gemini, so close that he blocked the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “Um, hey, so do you think Cylo can sit next to us?” Her smile grew and she started to shake her head up and down so quickly, it almost seemed like it was vibrating. “Uh huh. Uh huh times a million. Actually, you know what, let him take my desk, I’ll go chill with Kit.” When she stood up, she hit Asher in the shoulder so subtly that Cylo almost didn’t notice. When she walked pass, she mouthed something to Asher, but Cylo couldn’t tell what she said. Asher’s cheeks were radiant and pink for a while after that. “So…I take it you’re from a big city?” Asher feebly asked as he started up his computer. He didn’t even need to look at the screen to ensure it was turning on…in fact, his eyes didn’t leave Cylo’s face. “I guess I just assumed from the eyes and hair and stuff. Also, I don’t know, you just seem to be a lot more refined than the rest of us.” He chuckled to himself about nothing as he absently scanned over the details of Cylo’s face. His eyes were flaming orange, a color that he had never even seen before, and his hair was a light blue and green, like from photographs of a beach that his mother used to keep. He had never seen a real life beach himself, but now he felt like he didn’t have to. “Yeah, actually, I’m from Vela. Seems far, but it was definitely worth it to come out here. Hey, do you think you could…” “Oh yeah, yeah, sorry…” Asher leaned over Cylo and typed in several security codes before the screen opened up to a username and password screen. “Do…do I have that?” Cylo asked quietly, like he was asking for the answer on a test. “You should…? Here, if you don’t, I’ll sign you onto mine and show you how to do pretty much everything.” Asher logged off of his computer and scooted towards Cylo’s. “I don’t know how much you’ve been told about what exactly this is, but I think if I remember, the lieutenant said you transferred because your skill set conflicted with your other missions.

Do you know anything about computers that may end up being useful here?” In all honesty, Cylo couldn’t place exactly why he was put there in the first place. All he remembered was that it was early in the morning when they informed him about his parents’ departure, and he was told that by the end of the day, he would move to some wilderness cottage that would be his home indefinitely. That, and he had to take his sister. They were very clear about that. “I’m not that great with technology, if I’m being frank. It’s so strange, I’m around them all the time, I’m even part technology, but I still always need to get help from Zenith when I want to change my profile picture.” Cylo laughed to himself. This was the first time when Asher’s face was stone cold. “You’re…you’re from Vela, of all places, and can’t change a profile picture?” “Without an online tutorial? Nope.” Asher reclined a bit in his seat and looked over Cylo’s shoulder for a brief moment before trying to engage his attention again, but at that point, Cylo had already turned. Lieutenant Patch was leaning against the frame of the entrance, hands in fists while crossing her arms. She didn’t seem to make any effort to walk over to the majors, but she scanned the crowd as if they were more similar to horses she needed to control than people she had to organize. Suddenly, Patch removed herself from the door and made a bee line directly for Asher’s seat. He paled instantly and shot out of his seat, an arm in a salute position. “A pleasant surprise to see you, Lieutenant Patch!” Cylo was able to pick out each word as forced and afraid, yet still loud and clear. Asher had at least five inches on the Lieutenant, but looking down on someone never seemed to be a more intimidating task for him. “Asher, I may be in charge of you, but you don’t have to act like it. Sit down, kid.” “I’m twenty two…” he mumbled and slumped back into his position. For a few quiet moments, the Lieutenant took the edge oft he laptop screen and leaned it towards her to read its contents. “You made this?” She asked Cylo. “Oh, no, this is all Asher’s. He was just showing me how all…this…worked.” He motioned haphazardly to the contents of the screen, which was about as easy to read as sanskrit upside down. She made some displeased clicking sounds with her mouth and released the screen. “Move for a moment. I want to try something…” Patch tapped away for a few moments, adding some sequences of code below Asher’s current one. The grin she gave herself was so quick Cylo nearly missed it, but as she pressed start and eased back, even Asher’s face brightened up. “…What? What’s funny?” Cylo tried bringing the screen closer, as if that would help him decode it easier. “Holy shit, Cylo! You did that just now?!” Came a cry from Gemini’s seat. She had wheeled back several feet as if to distance herself from what she was seeing and gripped the sides of her head. One by one, the other majors mumbled impressed things to one another, a few of them even laughing in their seats. Now it was Cylo who felt too warm. In the seat next to him, he realized that every computer aside from Asher’s had a message in an obnoxious green box, which read, “Thanks for the intro, but if I can break into Asher’s computer, I could break into yours, and so could Mudskipper. Good luck, nerds :)”. “No, I just…” It wasn’t like Cylo to stammer for words, but the rising energy in the room over an accomplishment that wasn’t his made him uncomfortable. “But I didn’t…” “Maruzzo.” Lieutenant Patch wheeled him around to face her, where he stared directly into her muddled green eyes, having nowhere else to look. “I know you know that you don’t know a stitch about coding. Am I correct?” “Yes, ma’am.” “All of these majors got to where they are sitting today because of their creative problem solving skills and their knowledge of computers. Now, we both know that you only have one of those things. We’ll work on your hacking skills, but you now officially look the part, yeah?” Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes flickered with something Cylo couldn’t place. “Let Asher teach you what he knows over time, and remember to stay focused. You’re here for a reason.” After that, Patch approached no one else, and no eyes followed her as she left the room. “Dude, did you just see that? This kid’s a badass…” Gemini gushed, still not deleting the message from her own screen. Kit paused their frantic typing for a moment and sighed. “You could’ve done it. I could’ve done it. And he’s not a kid, he’s twenty, isn’t he?” Gemini shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he’s…interesting. Not like the rest of us.” “Not like the rest of us like me, where I’m so devastatingly intelligent that I blow everyone out of the water with my marvelous skill and talent, or not the rest of us like you, where you were dared on your first day to drink swamp water from outside…” “Don’t say it!” “…And went through with it, getting diarrhea for a week and a half.” Gemini groaned and slumped in your seat. “They said it…” She mumbled. She raked her palms over her face, causing her skin to droop like a monster’s. Kit was on the verge of a smile, forcing it down in order to preserve their dignity as to not engage in Gemini’s humor. It was hard sometimes. Out of the corner of Gemini’s eye, though, she caught a glimpse of Asher talking to Cylo and almost squealed in her seat. “Kit! Kit, this is important…!” Gemini tugged the edge of Kit’s sleeve, causing several jumbled letters to appear on Kit’s screen. Before they could even make a remark, Gemini angled their head to the scene of the crime. “Oh…my God…” They said slowly, an excited smile glowing on their face. “Is that what I think it is?” “Asher has such a…how do I say it, Asher way of flirting. Look at that, look at that elbow on the table, that steady eye contact…okay, double points if he almost puts his hand on Cylo’s shoulder but stops himself.” Kit narrowed their eyes on his right arm, free of the table. Just as Gemini predicted, he made a motion like he was about to touch Cylo, but passed it off as an explanatory gesture. Now Gemini really did squeal, falling back on Kit’s lap and giggling to herself. “I support him so much but he’s such a dork. Do you remember when he flirted with Astrid like, two years ago?” “Yeah?” “Same thing! Asher-crushes don’t cease unless there’s finite proof that the other person doesn’t like him, and if I know anything about first impressions, it’s that this kid will have no idea when he’s being flirted with.” Kit snickered and wheeled themselves back towards their computer. “Oh, please. He’s twenty.”

The Red String - Chapter 6

Author’s Note: More on my Ignis x fem!OC soulmate AU based on the tale of the red string of fate. This chapter features more Prompto and Gladio. Word Count: 2998.

Chapter Masterlist

The men wasted no time in lifting the woman from the ship and attempting to find their way back to the train. Thankfully, they hadn’t been out long and so the storm had yet to blow away the deep tracks they plowed in the snow. Gladio carried the woman in his arms, noting how cold she felt. How long had she been there?

Once they made it back to the train, it began moving, picking up speed as it put the frozen wasteland behind them. They laid the woman down across a bench in one of the booths.

“Are they okay? Do they require medical attention?” Ignis suddenly panicked.

Gladio checked for vitals and pulled her coats open to see if there were any visible wounds. “She’s a little cold but she’s breathing steadily and I don’t see anything immediately wrong with her.”

“That’s good then,” Ignis mused to himself. He hadn’t realized that the person they rescued was a woman. He removed his coat and held it out towards where Gladio was standing. “Here, place this on her. She could probably use extra warmth.”

Gladio tucked the coat around her torso and guided Ignis back to a different seating area in the car. He needed answers but he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“What the hell, Ignis?! How did you know she was there?” Gladio demanded.

“Honestly I didn’t know who or what we’d find out there.”

“Wait, so you don’t know her?” Pompto cocked his head to the side in complete confusion.

“I’m not sure…does she look familiar to either of you?” Ignis wondered.

“I’ve never laid eyes on her before,” Gladio answered.

Prompto piped up, “No clue, Iggy”.

Ignis was puzzled. What drew him to her then? The questionable feeling he had before they stopped had vanished and the force pulling him to her was nowhere near as potent. It was like an extremely dull tug, hardly noticeable like when a slight breeze ruffled one’s hair. “What does she look like?”

Prompto and Gladio stared at each other before peeking back at the women slumbering on the bench. They turned back to Ignis. “She’s a short brunette,” Prompto began. Prompto wasn’t always very articulate when it came to describing things to Ignis; he was used to letting his snapshots do the talking, but those would be lost on a blind man. Gladio was usually the one to fill in the blanks, but he didn’t seem too eager to paint this picture for Ignis.

“It looks like she’s got some sort of doctor’s coat or lab coat under that other coat of hers,” Gladio added. “But wait. We found her in Niflheim territory in an Imperial airship, no less. I know Magitek troopers usually pilot their own ships, so she probably somehow hijacked it, but doesn’t this mean there’s a good chance she’s a Nif? What if she’s one of those scientists from Zegnautus Keep? You know what kind of fucked up shit they were up to. And we just saved her and brought her along for the ride?!” His anger grew as he thought more about it.

“Well, we don’t know for sure who she is unless we ask her…” Prompto quietly interjected. “I mean, didn’t we just establish that I’m technically a Nif too?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t choose that, Blondie. If she’s a scientist, she definitely chose that. For all we know, she’s created countless daemons and Magitek troopers that have tried killing us. You don’t have a bad bone in your body, Prompto,” Gladio comforted his friend.

“All speculation,” Ignis spoke up. “Look, I don’t know how I knew she was there, but all the same, we rescued her and now she’s here with us. Let’s just wait for her to come around and then we can figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Gladio gritted his teeth. He had no idea what had happened to Ignis, but he was still skeptical where the woman was concerned.

**********

Chandra woke up in a very uncomfortable position. She was flat on her back on what appeared to be some sort of lightly padded bench in a booth and she could feel movement. Was she on a train? She had been following tracks before she crashed. She sat up and looked out the window and surmised that she was indeed on a train. She then panicked, grabbed at her body, and then sighed in relief. Well, I’m still not a daemon, so I guess I wasn’t exposed like I thought I was. I would have turned by now if I had been. That’s one plus at least. She saw that a black jacket had slid down onto her lap when she rose. She didn’t recognize it, so she lifted it to her face and inhaled. It smelled of leather and coffee. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew who possessed those scents, but it was intoxicating and comforting all the same. Whose is this?

“Oh hey, you’re awake!” Came a bright, bubbly male voice. She jumped and dropped the jacket, turning her head to see the owner of the voice. A skinny blonde man with hair that instantly reminded her of a chocobo was approaching her from the front of the car.

“The name’s Prompto! Are you doing okay? Are you hurt or need anything?” He suddenly looked embarrassed and concerned as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Um…I guess I’m okay? Thanks?” Chandra was very confused. “Where the hell am I?”

“Oh, uh, you’re on a train with me and my friends to Tenebrae. We’re going to head to Altissia and then go back to Lestallum. Where you headed?”

“Nowhere in particular. How did I get here?”

“We found you in your airship. You must have crashed into a snow bank. You had passed out and the engine was dying. We didn’t want you to freeze to death, so we brought you with us. I hope that’s okay?” Prompto looked down at his boots.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I prefer not freezing to death. Thank you.” Chandra wearily answered. She still felt groggy, but the events that led to her current situation started to unfold in her mind.

She had gone to her apartment as she was advised to do. For five whole days she paced, attempting to plan her next move. On the second day, she had called Celine to see how she was fairing, and all she got was an earful of sobbing. She begged Celine to get some rest and that she’d come get her when she had a plan.

On the fifth day, however, she had reached her limit. She still had no idea what to do but could not just sit idly while the world she knew shattered around her. She was not going to go down with the rest of the city. She packed some clothes, non-perishable foods, all of her gil, and several potions into a backpack, threw on her lab coat and a trench coat for extra warmth, and started to head out the door. She hesitated. Where was she planning on going and how was she going to get there? It had been five days and she still hadn’t come up with any answers for her future. Surely there were patrols outside, who would immediately send her back home. Maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe Gralea was fine, and the daemon outbreak was confined to a section of Zegnautus Keep and they were just finishing cleanup. Either way, she was determined to escape the city for good, and she was going to take Celine with her. Before trekking to her coworker’s apartment, however, she took a moment to stare at her desk. Secured underneath the table, were her beloved daggers. Though she hadn’t practiced with them in years, it wouldn’t hurt to have them, just in case. She rushed to the desk, pried them out of their hold, and shoved them deep into her bag before heading out the door.

Chandra had expected to find Celine cowering in her closet when she arrived, but instead she was greeted by silence. “Celine? Are you in there?”

No answer had come when she pounded on the door and no sounds were heard when she pressed her ear to the thin wood. Did she try to leave home? She tested the knob and found it unlocked. As she stepped across the threshold, a growl registered in her left ear. She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned her head. There, cowering in the corner was a daemon. It wasn’t like any of the others she had witnessed before from her experiments, but it did look similar to the ones her coworkers had transformed into.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. The daemon was wearing a lab coat with an embroidered “C” on the pocket. Celine’s lab coat. “Celine?”

The daemon let out a screech and lunged at her. She quickly backed out the door and slammed it. She could hear claws raking across the wood as the daemon growled and shrieked. “Celine, no!” Chandra sobbed. The closest thing she had to a friend had transformed into a daemon. She truly was all alone in the world now. She turned and began puking on the “welcome” mat. Mostly bile and acid came up, but she continued to dry heave afterwards.

After the convulsing stopped, Chandra rose up, wiped her mouth, and looked around. The city lights were dimly shining, but the darkness surrounding her was eerie and not deterred by the lights. Aside from the unearthly noises from inside the apartment, there were no people and no sounds. The city never slept. There were always people out, always sounds: people chatting, babies crying, kids screaming, machinery churning from the factories, cars honking, steam billowing from the chimneys at the labs, the hum of engines. Those sounds were always present, and yet, she was met with silence. How long had the city been like this? Something was definitely wrong.

An ungodly scream pierced the air from a few blocks away. Chandra jumped and nearly fell down the stairs that led up to the apartment. She turned her head from side to side, trying to determine the origin of the scream when she heard another. And then another. Screams began to break the silence. “It’s spreading. The daemons are coming!” Chandra thought aloud. “I have to get the fuck out of here!”

She took off in a dead sprint, silently cursing herself for being out of shape. She didn’t know where to go. The whole city would soon be crawling with daemons. Once a person transformed, they lost their human memories and did the only thing daemons knew how to do—attack. She had to find a safe haven of some sort. She didn’t own any form of transportation; she never had the need before. She could easily walk to work and the store, so it wasn’t like she had far to venture. Not until now.

She ran for a few blocks before nearly slamming into a man who was hurrying towards his car. “Watch where you’re going, bitch!”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Chandra shot back. The impact had nearly knocked her off her feet. Just the man started to retaliate with a smarmy comeback, he doubled over and threw up. Only, it wasn’t normal vomit. It was a viscous, black ichor. It spewed forth from his mouth like a fountain and Chandra backed away. When he rose up, his eyes were blackened and the side of his mouth looked as though it were decaying. She knew that look all too well. He was transforming into a daemon before her very eyes! As he doubled over to vomit again, he dropped his keys and began screaming. Chandra took the opportunity to step towards him, snatch the keys, and take off towards his vehicle. He started to get up and come after her, but another spray of ichor stopped him in his tracks and he fell to the ground yet again, screaming and writhing in pain. Chandra unlocked his car, slammed the key into the ignition, revved the engine, and floored it. Grand theft auto wasn’t something she normally justified, but her life was on the line and that guy was an asshole, a soon to be daemon asshole, and so she forgave herself.

As she weaved through the empty city streets, she could see glowing eyes on either side of the road. Daemons were gathering. One even went so far as to jump into the road a few feet in front of her, but she managed to swerve in time. Most were trying to stay away from the street lights and the car headlights. As she finally reached the edge of the city, she pulled over on the side of the road to assess the situation. Outside of Gralea lay the frozen desert. There was no way the car could make it out there. She wasn’t even sure if there were roads. She could feel a panic attack creeping up on her as she realized she was out of options. But then she turned and noticed an Imperial airship in the distance. Magitek troopers had filed out and were running through the streets. They weren’t marching in order as they usually did. Great, they must have gone rogue. That’s all I need. Daemons and rouge MT’s.

An insane thought popped into Chandra’s mind. What if I steal that airship? She was surprised she still even remembered how to drive a car. She hadn’t done so since she was fourteen and her dad had let her behind the wheel of his own before she was legal. But could she fly an airship? It was worth a shot, at least. I’ll either die here to a bunch of daemons or die in a fiery plane crash. Plane crashes seem cooler.

She surveyed the area before bolting from the car. She made it to the hatch of the airship and peered inside. It didn’t look like anyone was there, so she went to the cockpit and sat down. The controls looked surprisingly simple. Then she remembered that troopers usually flew their own ships. “Controls can’t be complicated if a stupid hunk of metal and daemon is supposed to be flying it!” she mused aloud. She pressed a button which started the engine. Unlike planes which needed space to build up speed to gain height, the airship could just lift straight into the air and take off. She pushed a few more buttons and slowly, the craft ascended into the air. She grabbed the steering wheel and screamed as it flew off into the darkness.

She didn’t dare stray too far from the ground. Though she wasn’t exactly sure of her location, she could see railroad tracks off in the distance that she assumed lead deep into the frozen desert. She figured she may as well follow those until she got out of Niflheim and then just see where the journey took her. She found that flying wasn’t so difficult as long as she concentrated on staying in the air and not trying to turn the wheel too much. She followed the tracks into the wintery storm. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the sky when the he snow started to become too thick. Just as she began to panic, she felt the engine strain and the craft dip low towards the ground. I’m going to crash!

She tried to slowly lower herself towards the land, but she didn’t see the tall snow bank camouflaging a rock formation. The craft crashed into it, nose first, and slammed onto the ground, snow cascading onto the ship, partially burying it. Chandra was jostled and thrown from her seat. She cried out in pain, barely able to reach into her bag for one of her potions. She crushed it and instantly felt the pain die down a notch.

She crawled back into the seat and tried to take off, but the snow was too heavy. She decided the best thing to do was sit and analyze the situation before doing anything rash. She left the engine running for warmth, and began pondering her situation. Rather than think about how to survive, she instead broke into tears. Sobs wracked her body as she cried into her hands. What the hell is going on with me? This was completely stupid. I’m a fucking scientist in an outbreak. I could be infected and I could have gone on to infect others. Maybe it’s better that I crashed here. Maybe I’ll just die here instead. Or if I become a daemon, at least I’ll be away from the population.

After some time, she raised up to look out a side window to survey the area. Off in the distance stood a Red Giant. If it noticed her, she would definitely be dead. Seeing that gigantic daemon after having second thoughts about her actions was just too much for her brain to handle, and with that, she blacked out. She would wake periodically only to ultimately panic and pass out again for a few days, until one day, she felt a familiar force, pulling her from her slumber.

**********

“Hey, I asked who you were?”

Chandra snapped back to the present. That blonde guy, Prompto, had still been talking to her when she zoned out.

“Oh, sorry. My name is Chandra.”

“Chandra. That’s a nice name! Oh, here’s the guys! Chandra, meet Gladio and Ignis!”

A familiar, small tug caused her to turn her head towards the door as two men made their way in. The first was a big, burly man with longer hair and scars adorning his face. He stepped aside to allow a second man to walk in front of him. He was facing the ground, walking with a cane. He rose up and turned his head in their direction. Chandra froze. Before her stood the warrior from her dream!

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE - 12/4/18

“VARIETY HOUR” by DJS

Sometimes you just write to write, regardless of whether you know or not you are pursuing an idea only to wind up in a dead end. But that’s ok. As Judge Smails says in Caddyshack: “The world needs ditch-diggers too.” Alas, right?

Oh well. 40 more entries to go.

We’re watching television in black and white. An old variety show circa the 1950’s. Theme music coming back from a commercial break mixed with applause. The HOST is a genial older white man. He greets us with a smile.

HOST                          Welcome back, welcome back. Thanks for sticking around I should say. I mean with all the other options to choose from – all three channels. Ha, ha, there. Now for your viewing pleasure, your enjoyment alone ladies and gentlemen, our next act. If you like exotic pets well – well, they’re more like wild animals I should say – from places I’ve never even heard of before, I mean break out the Encyclopedia Britannica ‘cause you’re gonna need it. With his amazing collection of deadly and exotic wild life, please welcome with a BIG round of applause, Mister Clive Sandwich!!!

Canned applause. CLIVE comes out. He is dressed in safari clothes. An ASSISTANT follows pushing a large cart with many cages on it, all of them covered for the moment.

HOST  (over applause) There he is. There he is. Hey there. Hey.

CLIVE                         (as the applause dies down) Hello Stu, thank you, thank you for having me. Good to be here.

HOST                          Now it’s me who should be thanking you Clive. I know it’s no easy trek when you got this many, uh, shall we call them “critters” you have to haul around with you.

CLIVE                         You can say that again.

HOST                          Ha, ha, I would only I’ll save us the time.

CLIVE                         Very good Stu.

HOST                          Well, I try I try. (suddenly sober) Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t first address the elephant in the room here.

CLIVE                         ‘Fraid I didn’t bring any elephants today Stu.

HOST                          Ha, that’s good. Quick on your feet and a man of the world, jack-of all trades sort. But no, that’s not what I was talking about, not the elephant I was referring to –

CLIVE                         (overlapping) No, I didn’t think it was Stu.

HOST                          No, what I meant was – Your name.

CLIVE                         My name, Stu?

HOST                          Yes. Sandwich. Now that’s an unusual last name if I say so myself.

CLIVE                         (a knowing chuckle) Well, I can tell you how I got it if you have a minute.

HOST                          By all means, enlighten us.

CLIVE                         Well, you see, I sort of, I sort of inherited it.

HOST                          Inherited it?

CLIVE                         Yes, you could say. From my Father.

Sort of a confused beat. Then the HOST catches on that CLIVE was attempting a joke. What follows is a kind of laughter, spurred on by HOST and gradually taken up by the audience, by no means genuine. Pity laughter. CLIVE cannot tell the difference and smiles good-naturedly.

HOST  Now that’s… that’s good. Yeah. Like it’s your last name?

CLIVE Right, Right.

HOST  Ha. Ha, yes.

CLIVE Just keeping you on your toes, Stu.

HOST                          And that’s never an easy thing to do. So we, we salute you all the more. (to audience) Don’t we audience? Hunh?

He claps and the audience follows suit. Then that dies. Host pivots.

                                   Now if we could, if we could get back to the topic at hand. Now what have you got for us today. Nothing that likes to bite too much I hope?

CLIVE                         Well, I can’t make any promises Stu. So if your trigger finger’s important to you –

HOST                          Oh, you know it is. Gotta protect my second amendment rights and all haven’t I? Case someone breaks in? I am a very famous celebrity after all aren’t I? And there are a lot of nuts out there. Crazed fans… Stalkers.

CLIVE                         Well you would know more about that than me Stu. I’m just a lowly zookeeper after all.

HOST                          After all, yes. Yes. Well we all have our station in life, our cross to bear.

CLIVE                         True, true –

HOST                          But about these animals now. What have you got for us today?

Clive moves to uncover one of the cages.

CLIVE                         Well, how do you feel about snakes Stu? The bigger the better I bet is your motto.

HOST                          (smiles nervously, or maybe he’s only pretending to be) Now Just A Minute There Clive Hold On –

CLIVE                         I’m just kidding. He’s harmless. Or non-poisonous I should say –

Clive removes a snake of about 4 feet from the cage. It has colorful stripes and hisses incessantly.

Host backs away instinctively.

Nope, nothing to worry about with this little guy.

HOST  Holy Moly – and you call this a “little guy” do you?

CLIVE                         Well sure Stu. I mean he’s not a Bull Python or an Anaconda or one of those. Now do you want to pet him or not?

HOST                          Pet him? (eyes the audience dubiously, playing up the moment) Well, I mean, are you absolutely sure it’s safe? He’s not going to bite or sting me or anything, anything?

CLIVE                         No, no. Maybe just give you a little kiss. A little peck. No, I swear, he’s friendly Stu.

HOST                          Friendly?? (Makes an exaggerated expression of concern to audience.)

CLIVE                         Trust me, you gotta have a little faith is all, Stu.

HOST                          Well, now now now, OK. But if anything goes awry –

CLIVE                         Nothing’s going to go – (Suddenly pulls snake away.)

                                   But while we’re on the subject –

HOST                          The subject? What –

CLIVE                         No I just have a question for you Stu first.

HOST                          Uhhhhh yes? OK?

CLIVE                         Do you know for a fact how porky-pines reproduce? Sorry – Snakes reproduce?

HOST                          Umm (With a nervous look to the audience.) Well, they, they lay eggs don’t they? Isn’t that I mean –

CLIVE                         Common misconception Stu.

Then he waits. Clive waits. Smiling the whole time.

The audience is dead silent. Maybe real sound effect of crickets here?

Host doesn’t know what’s going on or what to do except wait it out.

Finally:

           Get it? Common “misconception”?

           Misconception? Huh? Eh?

Because we’re talking about how they – how snakes, how they, you know…

(Broad explanation gesture.) About Reproduction.

Pause. Host just stares at him.

           It’s. It’s a pun. A pun, Stu.

Host just stares at him. The silence is interminable.

           It was. It was a joke, the whole… the whole um. Thing, it was.

Silence. Staring. Silence. Clive starts to grow awkward. More uncomfortable anyway with each passing moment. It’s the silence that’s the freakiest thing. And the hollow staring of the Host.

Then, it’s over. Host is beaming. Like nothing happened at all.

HOST                          Well how bout a big hand for our guest tonight, all the way from the San Antonio Zoo and Wildlife Preserve, acclaimed zoologist – and comedian apparently, Mister Yucks over here, am I right ladies and gentlemen – one more time Clive Sandwich!!!!! (Clapping.) Sorry we couldn’t get to more of your creations, I promise next time.

This last line is only half-heard under a wave of applause.

Clive stands there holding the striped snake in a spotlight that grows more intense as the variety show set fades to darkness around him. The light is eventually so blinding that he is forced to shield his eyes. The snake hisses but we can’t hear it.

Then blackout.