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tange-my-rine · 1 month

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borrow some sugar || Tangerine × gn!reader

Summary: You were living in the city, on your own. It was your dream though, you'd known it was far from home but you needed the space. Well, wanted the space. Didn't mean it wasn't lonely. The one time you actually met your neighbor, of course, you put your literal whole life in danger.

TW: blood, guns, murder, threats, cursing (it's Tangerine), protective!Tangerine (eventually), kidnapping, threats, and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: love a good normal person × Tangerine, and this is the epitome of that. Except you get way too wrapped up in it.]]

"Yeah, I know," you echoed out, fetching your keys out of your pocket -mindlessly walking through the hallway, "-I'm always safe, you know that."

Pressing your phone onto your shoulder, you heard a sort of bang -a heavy thud really, on the wall.

You furrowed your brows, the neighbor on that side was usually quiet. Like unusually quiet. You'd seen him, maybe once or twice in the hallway -he'd never said a word to you. Always wearing a suit and a super serious face, you'd assumed he was some sort of corporate worker with insane hours.

"Look," you spoke, unlocking your handle, "-I have to go, but I'll call you back tomorrow. I'm home already."

Slipping into your apartment, you sighed, pushing your phone into your pocket, dropping your keys, and taking off your shoes by the door. With the familiar thrum of your fridge, you mindlessly wander up to your couch and drop your bag.

It had been a terrible day at work, your boss was... well, your boss. And your work was exhausting, your feet hurt and your brain was working on the migraine of the century-

You just wanted to eat and watch your comfort TV show and turn your brain off -for an hour, at least. If not for the last few hours before you went to sleep, that was dream case scenario. Finally, when your brain was succumbing to the buzz of the voices, your eyes drifting shut, and the couch seemed so fluffy, there was a noise.

At first, you ignored it -figured it was your brain or something out in the hallway.

But then, it came back -a clear, harsh knock.

'2:30 am,' flashed across your screen as you looked at it, and then again, seriously, you thought you imagined it. Because who would that be?

You were fully awake now, leaning up on your couch, staring at your door -waiting, testing if it was real.

Knock.

Huh, you stood up -wiping at your eyes, and slowly slinking to the door.

"Hello?"

You don't know what you expected, but it certainly wasn't what you saw.

It was your neighbor, sweaty with ripped clothes (a suit, you think) -was he ever in anything else? His eyes were lidded, nose bleeding, it stained his mustache, and you were pretty sure there was a knife in his shoulder-

"You 'ave any first aid?" He had an accent, a crazy accent that somehow suited him but you didn't expect at all.

"Are you-" you were in disbelief, "-Are you okay?"

He paused, before retorting -frankly, "Did you hear a fuckin' word I said, love?"

"Sorry, sorry," you swallowed, beckoning him inside, "-I think I have one in my bathroom. Just- Just sit at the counter."

"Right, thanks."

You weren't even sure your feet were touching the ground at this point, but still, you were quick -sifting through your cabinets.

A man is bleeding out in my kitchen, your brain panged, -a man is bleeding out in my kitchen.

Blinking, you mindlessly -in an entirely different way now- but directly made your way to the kitchen. A kit in your hand, you pinched yourself for a moment -this would be one weird fucking dream.

As you said, the man sat on a stool -blood dripping down onto your tile. You briskly wondered how to get that out, before sliding all the supplies across the countertop -the clatter filling the quiet air.

Pulling yourself onto the stool opposite him, you licked across your lips -fidgeting with some packaging.

"You couldn't just borrow some sugar?" you mumbled, taking out an alcohol wipe.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, frown still present on his lips -it seemed like it stayed there.

"This-" you motioned to him, "-is the first time we've met. You couldn't do a normal neighbor thing? Like borrow sugar-"

"Sorry, love," he rolled his eyes, "-I'll think of it fuckin' next time, yeah?"

"You should," you scoffed, "-I don't think every neighbor would appreciate bloodstains."

"And you do?"

"No," you stressed out, dabbing at a cut along his cheek -not the worst one but the first one you could handle right now, "-I am barely awake right now, and I'm half convinced you aren't even real-"

"Very real," he tsked, less biting this time.

You digested that information, swallowing dryly. A man, in some business, was on your stool, bleeding.

"Honest question," You pursed your lips, before focusing on another cut above his eyebrow. You were blatantly ignoring the knife, you literally had no idea-

"Go ahead," he huffed out, breaths puffing out of his chest.

"How the hell did you get stabbed?"

The man paused, thinking over his answer (why did he have to think?), "Break-in?"

You raised an eyebrow, tossing out the wipe, "You sure about that answer?"

"Better if ya didn't know, love," he mended -blue eyes slinking over your kitchen.

You hummed, picking through the material -thank god you took that sewing class, "Kind of expected that, mysterious suited neighbor."

"Tangerine."

You flicked up your eyes, confused, "Is that... Is that your safeword, or...?"

"Fuckin' hell," he sighed, using a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "-'s my name."

"Your name?" you questioned, tone raising.

"My brother-" he began before shaking his head -solidly, "-Doesn't fuckin matter, are ya gonna get to the knife wound or?"

"Listen," you spoke -a little pressed, "-I'm not one to stitch up wounds, Tangerine. I have to remember my sewing class-"

"You gonna stitch up my fuckin' shirt then, love?"

"Oh my god," you exhaled through your nose, "-no wonder you had to come to a stranger."

He opened his mouth -eager to bite back, but you promptly interrupted him.

"I have no experience," you said, taking the knife handle into your hand, "-but I'm pretty sure this is going to hurt like hell."

"Lucky for you, love," he spoke through labored breaths -wrapping his fingers around yours, "-I'm very fuckin' experienced."

And then without hesitation, he tugged it out.

The next few moments were bloody and unreal to you -your hands working quickly but your brain significantly falling behind. You could cross 'stitching up a wound on a handsome man' off your bucket list if it was ever even on there.

Now, you sat on the stool -hands sticky red, and your shirt (one of your better pjs, sadly) stained just the same. With a roll of bandages, you wrapped his shoulder with tedious little movements -eyes focused only on the skin. Only looking up when you'd tied it off, mind finally settling.

"Is that everything?" You asked, careful to not put your hands anywhere except your shirt.

"Yeah," he spoke, softer, "-just some bruisin', I think."

"Let me get you some peas," you echoed, sliding down from your stool -steps slow, you were just tired.

He didn't speak a word, as you dug through your freezer -finding one at the very bottom, of course.

You extended your hand, the cold sensation keeping you up -aware. Right now, your brain was in overdrive, probably ever since he'd shown up at your door, and your body merely just followed behind.

He shifted, grabbing it from you -you saw a kiss of a tattoo that you were curious about but not enough to ask. Your eyes sunk along his shirt, which was not a shirt anymore, all bloodstained and ripped up.

Before you could stop it, you were asking, "Do you need new clothes?"

Tangerine paused, looking at you like you grew a third head. You were past that point, you had his literal blood on your hands -there was no need to be shy now.

"'Had a boyfriend about your build," you clarified, "-I never gave him back like 10 shirts, so-"

"10?" He interrupted and you thought you might've seen a smile quirk onto his lips.

"He smelled good," you offered, before spinning to the kitchen and proceeding to scrub your hands with no hesitation, "-You want one or not?"

"Yeah," he sighed out, a little awkwardly, "-Yeah, thanks."

"While I'm at it," you spoke over your shoulder, "-do you need a place to stay?"

He pursed his lips, hand pushed into the peas against his ribs -you imagined it would be a big bruise in the morning.

"I'm pretty sure whatever happened," you emphasized, "-left a mess. I have a couch if you need it."

"Bein' awfully fuckin' nice to a stranger," he hummed, eyes tired.

"I figured you would've killed me way earlier," you remarked, finally drying them on a nearby towel, "'Had some good opportunities."

He smiled then, you actually saw it with your own two eyes -you almost thought you were hallucinating. His head tilting back, as his shoulder pressed against your counter -he looked kind of like a painting, all twisted angles and sharp jaw.

"What's yours?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "My what?"

"Your name, love," he answered, soft and attentive -much different than before (you kind of thought he might've lost too much blood).

"You wanna know that now?" You laughed, but even still you told him -there was something about him that made you feel at ease. He really shouldn't have.

He stayed that night, cozied up in your ex-boyfriend's shirt (which he looked surprisingly good in) and freshly showered. You didn't see him when you woke up that morning, and you didn't know why you had expected it.

A few weeks go by, and you were pretty sure that he moved out. Which, in retrospect, made sense, even still something in you felt kinda disappointed. He was the first person you'd actually talked to in months.

Coworkers didn't count.

You shook your head, he was literally covered in blood. In a business he couldn't talk about, and you missed him? You were officially losing your mind.

"Stupid," you muttered, eyes dipping across the TV -some sort of cheesy romcom that you'd never seen before in your life but still felt nostalgic to watch. It wasn't the worst thing you'd ever seen.

Good enough to sit and eat your favorite meal to, it was interesting enough to keep you awake.

When you finally slinked off to bed, and tossed into your fluffy comforter and soft pillows, you were exhausted. Far too exhausted to stay awake any longer. So, you didn't.

The sun was creeping through your window when you woke up, but not a morning sun -a too early sun. You groaned, looking to your phone and seeing without a doubt, it was 4:15 am. At first, you didn't know why you'd woken up so early but then you heard it.

A knock.

Initially, you were not going to move because it was warm here and you were tired.

But then you thought about if it was him, and if in the morning you'd see him dead on your doorstep. That would be suspicious, and you'd probably end up in jail-

You sighed, pulling yourself out of the bed and pattering to the door. And when you swung it open, you were met with familiar blue eyes.

Before you could stop it, you asked, "Don't you have any friends?"

He barked out a laugh -chuckle really, but something in him seemed nervous (like he wasn't sure if he should have come), "Lovely to see you too, love."

"Right," you agreed, before shuffling to the side and letting him in. He relaxed ever-so-slightly.

The first thing you noticed was a split on his forehead, just a cut -it wouldn't need any stitches (thank god, these pajamas were your favorite), and then you dipped to his clothes which were actually in tack. It was a blue suit, really complimented his eyes, and you wondered distantly if he did that on purpose. He seemed the type.

His pants though were dirty, and you could see him limping -only slightly. He was definitely not in as bad as shape as before though; you really wondered why he was here.

"Sit," you motioned to the stool and disappeared into your bathroom.

You got much of the same things and climbed onto the stool beside him, eyes sweeping across his face. Now that you were closer, you could see little cuts along his skin -teeny tiny.

"Glass bottle," he offered before you could say anything.

You hummed, nonchalantly, "Coulda guessed."

Your brain was numb at the moment, still sleepy and you once again thought this might've been a hallucination. He was handsome after all, and you did daydream about handsome men so it definitely could be. And you guessed you could have a saviour thing-

You stopped your train of thought, interrupting the silence as you dabbed at his forehead, "You know I'm not a doctor, right?"

He spoke, frankly, "You talked about a sewing class when you needed to stitch up my bloody fuckin' knife wound, love."

You nodded, fair point, before continuing, "Then why are you here?"

Tangerine paused, and you thought distantly he didn't have an answer, until he answered, "'Hard to do myself."

You thought for a moment, before replying, "What about your brother?"

"Not in the fuckin' country," he answered simply -something frustrated in his tone. But then again, when wasn't there?

"Hmm," you hummed, before rubbing the rest of the tiny cuts -he hissed slightly, "-different job?"

"No," he exhaled, "-just a different... mission."

"'Make it sound like you're a super spy," you laughed, "-but Tangerine isn't a very cool codename."

"Fuck you."

"You are such a joy," you remarked, debating bandaging the top cut, "-Are bandaids too baby for you?"

"Plasters?" He asked.

British, right, you nodded -waving one in your fingers, "Yeah, I think it's all I've got for your wounds. Well, unless you want it wrapped around your head-"

"'s fine," he muttered -low but you still caught it.

"Good," you assured, sticking one to his skin -fingers fluttering along his skin (when was the last time you touched someone?).

"Alright," you leaned back, gathering up your supplies -promptly ignoring the thought, "-all done here. Your leg-"

"Bruised ankle," he clarified -explaining the limp.

"Oh," you spoke, "-I'll get the peas again."

Your eyes dipped to his pants, covered in... something (maybe a mix of blood and dirt?), "And a pair of pants."

He didn't say a word, merely staying seated, as you grabbed the peas -sliding them across your counter. Before stalling slightly, asking-

"Do you even still live here?"

He pressed his lips together, apparently debating telling you -which you were slightly offended by, "No."

"So you're staying?" You asked, neutrally.

"Don't 'ave to," he spoke -not combative, and you really thought you were hallucinating then.

You tilted your head, confused, "You can stay, didn't I say that before?"

He nodded, still so wordless, and you were honestly the most confused you ever could be. Tangerine was quieter, softer, and it was nothing like the time before; he even seemed grateful.

"Honest question," you started.

"Yeah, love?"

"Are you okay?" You decided, careful wording with eye contact strong. You two were kind of close, he left his life in your hands -it was strangely intimate. Your relationship was very confusing, but it felt right to ask.

"Yeah," he answered -furrowing his brows, "-these wounds are fuckin' nothing, love. I have been far, far closer to death."

"No, I mean-" you clarified, "-like mentally. You're being too nice."

He raised his eyebrows, "Too nice?"

"Yeah," you stressed like it was obvious, "-you are like grateful and shit. You've barely cussed at me."

"You saved my fuckin' life, love," he questioned, "-shouldn't I be kind for 'at?"

"You should," you agreed, before contradicting, "-but you don't."

He was quiet then, eyes not meeting yours as his fingers tapped against your counter -seemingly running things over in his mind. It was awhile that he was doing that, but you patiently waited. You suspected opening up at all wasn't his forte.

Finally, still looking around your living room, he mumbled, "'Needed to see someone."

You took him at his word -not dwelling because it really felt like he didn't want to, and the rest of the night was the same. He took the pants, slept on the couch, and was gone in the morning -even though he couldn't have slept more than a few hours.

It started happening pretty regularly after that. You'd fix him up, he'd talk, you'd talk, he'd stay over. You started loosening up, talking about your job, and your life -nothing super specific. He stayed clammed up about his job, but his personal life he did talk about -there wasn't much, but he did talk about his brother.

You felt like that was a big thing.

And then, after quite a few months between visits, you heard a knock at your door. Super late as always, you made your way to it -expectant and in routine. This time though, there were two of them: a familiar Tangerine, and a man with bleached tips and a surprisingly big smile.

"Hello," he smiled and it was very odd -Tangerine hardly smiled, "-lovely to meet ya, I'm Lemon."

You could assume from the name, even still, you felt a little out of place, "Nice to meet you."

"Brother," Tangerine motioned to him -frustration nearly radiating off of him, as he made his way inside.

"Rude," Lemon spoke, "-can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," you exhaled, letting him in.

Tangerine was relatively well -bruised knuckles, a busted lip, and a mild slice on his collarbone. Lemon was even better with just a black eye, atleast on the surface.

Instead of on the stool, Tangerine beelined straight to the bathroom -slamming the door.

You pursed your lips, turning to Lemon for answers, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Annoyed 'im into takin' me 'ere," he answered simply, "-'Wanted to meet who my brother was talkin' about."

He talks about me, you thought for a moment -you fully believed that you were a little miniature part of his life, not something he'd talk about. Especially to his brother.

He must've seen your confusion, because he continued.

"Oh, he never shuts up, love," he laughed, "-'Feel like I already fuckin' know ya."

"Huh," you responded, puzzled.

You thought about it for a second, running over the idea in your mind. What did he have to talk about? Your life? Your boring job, your lack of love life, your favorite cheesy movies? He told that to his brother? His brother with the same unbelievable life?

Why the hell would he do that?

"Please, sit on my couch," you finally spoke, wandering towards the kitchen with intent, "-I'll get you something cold for your eye. And then, I'll deal with the tantrum."

"Thanks," Lemon smiled, tottering off to your TV and without hesitation, popping it on.

He really was very comfortable for not knowing you. How much had Tangerine said?

You stepped into the living room, offering the same peas to Lemon (did you even like peas?) that you often gave Tangerine. He smiled gratefully.

"Do you need any like Tylenol?" You asked, further -eyes swiftly drifting over his eye, it was a nasty sort of yellow, "-that one is a shiner."

"So nice," Lemon hummed, "-no wonder my brother was hoggin' ya. But, I'll be alright, 'ave had worse."

You nodded, before slowly making your way toward the bathroom. Raising your hand, you gently knocked -nothing compared to his on your door in ungodly hours of the morning.

"Tangerine?" You offered.

The door slid open, and your eyes swam over him -taking in his wounds that you had before like in confirmation. He really wasn't hurt bad, not like other times.

Turns out, you didn't care and still wanted to help.

He was leaning against the counter fidgeting with his hands -you think there was blood on his rings. You spoke before you could think about it.

"You want me to wash those?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "What?"

“Your rings,” you clarified, mentally cursing yourself, “-or… do you need help with your wounds?”

He seems to think about it for a moment, eyes dashing across his knuckles -his rings, really. You only watched him for a few moments, half convinced you had dreamt this all up, that maybe he didn’t even exist. Maybe he was a figment of your imagination, he was certainly handsome enough. And his name was Tangerine. This could definitely all be a dream.

“Think I can do the rings myself, love,” he laughed a little -you still weren’t used to that sound, “-and the wounds aren’t ‘at bad.”

You looked at him for a moment, peering along the busted lip and the slice on his collarbone, “You sure? It’s kind of all I do, is it not?”

He smiled, mustache quirking up, “If it makes you feel better, you can clean the cut. But really, love, I’m fine.”

You pursed your lips, taking in his breaths that swirled with yours -the bathroom was small, “I’ll just get you some ice for your knuckles. But if you die from infection, it’s not on me.”

He really laughed at the one, as you spun on your feet back to the kitchen -digging out some other frozen food you hadn’t gotten around to eating yet. With a solid motion, you extended it forward (it was maybe tater tots?), offering it to Tangerine.

“Sorry it’s not the peas,” you spoke, pointing to Lemon -who at the time seemed to be half asleep on the couch, “-your brother stole those.”

“The fuckin’ twat,” he hissed out, a little too personally -you thought it was probably about something far bigger than your frozen peas. He could definitely be that petty though. So, it was possible.

"Woah, somebody's pissy today. Bad day?"

Tangerine seemed to pause, eyes swimming over you -like he was committing you to memory, you briefly wondered why.

"Yeah," he said, solidly -not elaborating. You knew better than to expect him to.

"Well," you spoke, a little awkwardly -not sure where to go, "-I've got... icecream?"

He looked at you like you were insane, but then again, when wasn't he? You said a lot of things without a filter in front of him. Handsome men, what could you say?

"Like..." you clarified, clearing your throat, "-to eat."

"Yeah, love, I fuckin' got 'at part. Why the hell would I want icecream?"

There it was. Tangerine in his true form.

You opened your mouth to respond, but someone else cut you to the chase.

"Sorry," Lemon perked up, "-did you say icecream? Because 'at would be really lovely with this movie, a great pair-"

"Yeah," you turned to him -his presence was a lot warmer (why was his name Lemon?), "-I've only got one flavor, but..."

"Fine with me," Lemon responded, with a big smile, "-brother, are you gettin' any?"

Tangerine huffed out of his nose, genuinely frustrated apparently -much different than a moment ago. What was he even angry about? There was nothing-

"No," he spoke through a snarl.

"Ouch," Lemon put his hands on his heart, replying flatly, "-really hurts, mate. Not used to your shitty behavior at all."

You decidedly left the room (not really it was all open concept), waltzing toward your kitchen with a focus in mind. As you were digging around, trying to find the pint you'd hidden from yourself, you were interrupted.

"Do you..." you turned at his voice, Tangerine, he didn't look very certain of his words, "-Do you need any help, love?"

"Help?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow, "-With icecream?"

"Well," he was suddenly very grumpy -probably embarrassed, "-you help me all the fuckin' time, so I just thought- Excuse me for fuckin' offering."

"You..." you started, standing and now facing him, "-You were going to repay me for saving your life, by helping me with icecream?"

"'S hardly saving my life," he grumbled, under his breath -you still heard it.

"You had a knife-" you motioned harshly to stress the word, "-in your shoulder the first time we met."

"Not deadly," he retorted, a bit pompous.

You rolled your eyes, "Look, give me the benefit of the doubt-"

Tangerine quickly said -almost on instinct, "I certainly will fuckin' not."

"-let's call it even," you continued, ignoring his remark, "-I save your life, you save mine."

"That's..." he started, "-That's makin' it even?"

"Well, yeah," you tilted your head, "-a life for a life."

He furrowed his eyebrows, you took it as him not understanding.

"Let's say that I'm getting chased down an alley," you clarified, before interjecting, "-Ooh wait, or maybe I'm getting robbed-"

"Are you fuckin' excited at the idea of gettin' robbed, love?"

"No," you quickly mended, "-it's just a better story. Plus, that's not relevant-"

His lips quirked up into a little smile.

"-What I'm saying is," you started, "-If I'm in trouble, you have to save me. To make it even."

"And how am I supposed to know when you're in trouble, then?"

You paused, pursing your lips -good point, "Uh, I don't know. Do you guys have like a bat signal? Like I hold up a fruit stand sign to the light-"

"Very funny," Tangerine interrupted -flatly, "-Look, just take my phone number, yeah? If you're ever in trouble, you can ring me like a fuckin' normal person."

"You're one to talk," you responded, before furrowing your eyebrows, "-Wait, you guys have phones?"

"Yeah," Tangerine stressed, "-who do you think we are?"

"Well, I don't know," you explained, "-don't phones have trackers? Won't that out you guys? When you're on... jobs?"

"Burners," Lemon quickly clarified, "-well, kind of. 'S on a secret network, basically."

"So," you started, processing, "-you want to give me your secret phone number?"

Tangerine hummed, realizing but seeming to settle, "Well, it's not like you've given me a reason to not trust you, love. Should I not?"

"True," you responded, "-I have not snitched on you. Even with... all the blood, and the knife, and the job you won't talk about-"

"We get it, love," he groaned out, "-just give me your fuckin' phone, yeah?"

You without hesitation gave it to him, he seemed to quickly put your phone number in his, and then his in yours -handing it back to you open on the contact. With a smile, you made his name the tangerine emoji.

"You put me as the damn emoji, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah," you laughed out, pocketing your phone in one fellow swoop.

You ended up seeing them both a few more times after that with varying injuries. (Once Lemon had a broken nose, and Tangerine had a broken finger. No more knives, thankfully.)

They were starting to be familiar to you -friends even. Despite not telling you about their job, you had gotten to know them well; you hate to brag but you were pretty good at settling their arguments. It made you integral to their dynamic.

You probably should've known one day you helping them stay alive would come back and bite you in the ass.

See, if you were asked, you'd probably assume they had many enemies. They were, at least, fighting people on a daily basis -you don't do that if your job is a positive one. And fighting people, almost regularly, is a surefire way of saying 'somebody hates me'. They probably had an enemy in every other city, if you were realistic.

You don't know why you hadn't thought of that.

That day, it was just a normal one. You worked until the sun went down, and then went home. Or you were supposed to.

Your shift at work was long and exhausting and you kind of wished your bed was right in front of you -so, to be honest, you weren't in your most aware state. It was always dangerous walking the streets tired, you knew this, so you usually had someone walk home with you. This night, in particular, was a lone shift (hell on earth) with a manager you didn't like, so you didn't ask.

And maybe that was stupid of you, but you doubted they would say yes.

Your feet pattered along the sidewalk, street lamps fading in and out of your view. Every few steps it'd get dark and then light again; to be honest, you were too tired to feel scared when it was dark.

And then, right as you stepped into the light, you heard the screech of car breaks (which you were kind of used to) and then suddenly there were hands all over you. Gloved hands, black-gloved hands.

Before you could say a word, you were thrown into the back of a van -no seats by the way, and enveloped in darkness.

It took you a minute to adjust, head spinning and hands shaking against the cold metal underneath you. It kind of felt like when you met Tangerine for the first time, like you weren't really there. Like you were experiencing something so bizarre, it couldn't be real-

Shit, you thought to yourself, Tangerine.

You patted yourself, ruffling over your pockets -trying to find your phone. It was dark and you couldn't even see. You guessed that was why, your phone went clattering onto the metal, away from your hand -loud.

There was something in you that hoped that these guys were stupid. That they'd look over the noise and ignore you until they took you wherever the hell they were taking you.

You weren't that lucky.

The van was distinctly pulled over, tires even scraping along the bumpy texture. And within minutes, the door to the van was flung open.

They were just a shadowy figure, light framing them so you couldn't see any of his features at all. He was just a shadow. You didn't know if that made him any scarier.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" His voice was low and gruff -like a smoker.

"I didn't-" you started, trying to avoid your phone -it was shadowed in the dark. You doubted he could see it-

And then his eyes flicked directly to it.

You literally could not have had a worse day.

Instead of reaching for it, he eyed for you to instead. And for a second, you thought he might've been trying to help you. That was wrong.

With your phone in your hand, the man promptly put a gun to your head. From a distance, yeah, but still trained directly into the center of your forehead. Was he going to kill you? Just like that?

This was suddenly very real, you swallowed back tears and nearly dropped your phone -trying to raise your hands up.

"Please," you begged, slowly and shaky but clear enough for them to hear.

"Shut up," he hissed out, "-listen. Take your phone, and call 'em."

"C-Call who?"

"Don't play dumb with me," the man echoed out, and you heard the click of the trigger pulling back -dear god, "-we know you're close to the twins, we've been watchin' your place for months."

"Okay, okay-" you breathed out, it felt like your lungs were full like you were suffocating-

Tears burned at the backs of your eyes, as your fingers, shaking, scrolled around the contacts app -he hadn't texted you or anything so all you had was his contact. Only for emergencies, he'd said.

You almost wanted to scare him once, but the idea felt so very stupid now.

Clicking call, the man nudged your hand, speaking lowly, "Put it on fucking speaker, now."

You dutifully did so, even if it took a few tries to hit the button -your hands were shaking enough to blur the screen. Your head was spinning, and the only thing your could feel was the cold metal beneath your legs.

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? To get caught up with... with bloody men who had a mysterious job?

You were moving back home if you made it out alive -the city wasn't worth this.

"'Ello?" His voice was spent, and you could hear the raggedy breaths puffing out of his chest -somehow hearing his voice calmed you just a second.

The man nudged you again, so you spoke, "Tangerine?"

He must have not been paying attention, because your shaky whisper -wet from your tears, you were crying, went relatively unnoticed.

"Little busy at the mo-" you heard a solid hit and what sounded like a crack, "-ment, you sure this is important, love?"

The man kept his eyes laser-focused on you, you took it as a sign to keep talking.

"T-Tangerine," you repeated, more inflection -the shake in your voice unavoidable.

The noise on the phone, suddenly got very quiet -you heard him mumble something to Lemon 'you got 'im?' before seeming to pull his full attention to you, "Everything okay, love? You sound... Is somethin' wrong?"

The man looked at you, expectantly. You took it as to tell him what was happening, clenching your nails into your skin -it might bleed. The pain was distracting, even just for a moment.

"I-I'm," you tried, but your voice cracked, and your breath turned into a sob, "T-There's a man, he has a gun to my head, I don't- I don't know why-"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Tangerine spit out, something fierce in his voice, "Lemon-"

The man snatched the phone from your hand, voice low and in a growl, "Seems I got something you want, Tangerine. It's only fair."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Doesn't matter," the man deflected, "-all that matters is that I have your little nurse, and you have no idea where we are."

The van, suddenly without warning, started up again -swinging back onto the road. You braced yourself against the wall, mindlessly blinking -this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.

You could hear the pounding of his footsteps -rushed, like he was trying to get somewhere, "If you lay a hand on 'em, I will fuckin' rip you apart, piece by excruciating piece. Slow and fuckin' steady, for hours-"

"You say that as if you know where we are," the man responded, "-as if you have a chance of finding them in time."

In time? your brain chimed, and everything felt so far away now.

"I swear to fuckin' god-" he spit out, venomous, "-if you hurt 'em-"

"Yeah, yeah," the man retorted -confidence in his tone, "-I got that part, fruit."

You breathed out, swallowing back tears, and wiping your eyes so hard that you were seeing spots; maybe this was all a dream, maybe you had just fallen asleep at work-

"Hate to do this to you," the man echoed out, "-but we have to go. Let's hope we see each other later, for your sake."

Tangerine nearly yelled through the phone, but that didn't stop him from hanging up.

At the next stop, the man moved back to the front -taking your phone with him. You sat alone, in the back of a van, in complete darkness.

Would this be the last thing you ever see? Really?

It was just like you were in the city, so incredibly alone. At least you had a chance then, to remedy it. Now... Now you weren't even sure you'd be breathing in a few hours.

"Oh god," you breathed out a big exhale, a sob bubbling up your throat -you had so much left to do, "-oh god."

The van didn't stop for what felt like forever, bumpy roads and quick turns -they were speeding the whole time, and you had no idea how they weren't pulled over. But maybe it was because of the hour, it was fairly late.

The door swung open before you could think about anything else, two men rushing in and grabbing you by the shoulders -dragging you out.

"If you scream," you felt cold metal to your neck, "-you're dead."

"Aren't you going to kill me anyways?"

"Only if your friends," the other man retorted, "-don't behave."

They tied something around your eyes, leaving you completely in the dark -gloved hands squeezing your shoulders so tight, they were definitely going to bruise. Three sets of feet pattered along what sounded like concrete, as your mind went numb -the cold, bitter air filtering over your skin.

It was echoing now, after you heard the swing of some heavy doors opening -must have been a big place. Your mind was reeling, you felt like you weren't even really there.

Then, without a word, they threw you forward directly into a brick wall -seemingly latching a door behind you. Your head spun for a moment as you tried to reorient yourself -blindfold still on, as you pulled it off you felt a stickiness on your forehead.

Pulling your hand in front of your face, you realized it was blood. How hard did you hit your head?

Your fingers flitted across it again, and you hissed. Apparently very hard.

You tried to look at your hands, see how much blood, but it was all shadowed -the darkness didn't change much from what you saw in the blindfold.

Hands shaking, you leaned yourself against the wall -tears steadily making their way down your cheeks. You could cry now, freely, as you finally were brought back down to your body.

This was really happening. You were in some dingy old room, and there were men outside who wanted to kill you to get at someone else. You were expendable, a pawn.

Any moment, any feeling, and they could just kill you. You'd die here, and nobody would know what happened to you.

You'd be one of those news stories you couldn't believe.

The brick scratched against your head, but it was kind of numbed by your headache -pounding where you knew the split of skin to be. Or where you could've guessed it was anyway.

That couldn't mean anything good.

Your breaths were starting to hollow out, low and slow, your body coming back to the cold concrete floors. You were grappling with your helplessness, what the hell would you do? What could you do?

You were... you couldn't do anything. You were done. This was it, all that work for... for you to die in some dingy old room alone.

And then, you thought of something you hadn't thought to. Something you'd never let your mind dig into, not really, because at the time it seemed stupid.

Tangerine.

You'd always known there was something there, something bubbling under your skin. Even with everything, you still... there was something.

Something warm in your chest at the idea that he came to see you. That it wasn't just for the help anymore. And he was handsome, and he promised to save you and his eyes and his arms and his hands-

Before you could think about it for too long, something interrupted you.

Boom.

It made your ears sting, the noise bouncing along the walls -you flinched where you sat. Breath sudden in a gasp, you stilled. Almost like as if someone could see you, like you were hiding.

There was some shuffling outside, someone messing with the latch on the door -they were struggling. Maybe because their hands were shaking? They were trying to get in-

And then, right outside the door was an even louder-

Boom.

It makes your head sting, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see spots. You swallowed, trying to calm the pounding in your head, rubbing at your temples.

Gunshots, you recognized, suddenly, they were gunshots.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, they were right outside the door. With a gun. With a gun-

Before you could think of anything to say, the rattling at the door started again -the scratch of metal against metal. It sounded more frantic now, somehow, and your whole body froze. Maybe if you didn't move they wouldn't hear you?

The door swung open, light pouring in that made your eyes sting. The door pounding against the wall -loud and opposing.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held your breath, staying completely still -hoping the shadow hid you against the walls. One hand covering your face, waiting until a figure steps into the room.

And when one did, cast in shadow, you sat very still. Watching their head twist around the room, back and forth -looking, searching.

You bit back a sob, let me live, let me live.

Then, they spoke.

"Love? Are you in 'ere?" He echoed out, "-Or was that fuckin' twat lyin'-"

"Tangerine," spilled out of your mouth as you rushed forward -wrapping your arms around him in a huff, "-holy shit, Tangerine-"

He stood frozen for a second, unfamiliar with the affection, you assumed. You inhaled a shaky breath in, the whiff of his cologne keeping you stable, there. You were safe-

His arms slowly met around you, unsure, but settling comfortably. Holding you for a second, just a second.

"Are you alright, love?" He pushed back a little bit -blue eyes scanning over you, "-Did he fuckin' lay a hand on you?"

"No, just-" you breathed out, pushing through the pain, "-he slammed me against the wall, I hit my head pretty hard, but that's-"

"Your head?" He asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the light, "-Come out 'ere, love, so I can see."

"It's not really-"

Tangerine let out a big sigh, turning back to you, "Let me help you, yeah?"

You pursed your lips, eyeing him for a moment -he was relatively unscathed, just a blood stain on his shirt and maybe some busted-up knuckles. His hair was still in place and his suit jacket uncreased, he felt composed -sturdy. Stable, really.

"Okay," you whispered out, letting him guide you out the door -you hissed at the little light you did see, almost instinctively squeezing your eyes shut.

"Sorry, love," he spoke, soft and gentle, "-can't control the sun for you."

"You could block it," you remarked, "-god made your shoulders insanely broad for a reason."

He laughed, moving in his place so less light shone on you -hands moving to hold your face (tilting the wound into the light), "You think my shoulders are broad, then?"

"Duh," you responded, something in your head woozy -you stumbled a little in place.

"Shit," he reacted, hands smoothing to your shoulders, holding you up, "-Can you 'ear me? Stay fuckin' awake, yeah?"

"Okay," you blinked heavily, trying to see him clearly.

When you did, he stood there eyes desperately searching yours -looking at you, concerned. They scattered all over you, settling on the split on your head for a bit too long -it was still pounding in your head, made you flinch a little.

"Do you think-" you started, "-Do you think I need a hospital?"

"No," Tangerine breathed out, fingers dusting along your wound, "-just need someone to watch ya overnight. And to clean you up a bit."

"Wouldn't..." you echoed, "-Wouldn't a hospital do that?"

Tangerine met your eyes, his lips quirking into a smile (just barely), "You think you're fuckin' funny, yeah?"

"I'm just making a point," you deflected.

"Just-" he sighed out, before connecting your eyes again, "-let me help you. I want to, yeah? I really fuckin' want to."

"Okay," you echoed out, relaxing into his touch -relaxing finally, "-fine."

"Good," he tsked, and without hesitation wrapped his fingers around your wrist, "-now, let's get out of 'ere, shall we?"

You did so, eyes squeezed shut tight because all the light did was hurt. But Tangerine soothed you, hand still on your wrist, ("Close your eyes if it hurts, love, I've got you.") and guided you along, even sitting you down in the car and pulling the seat belt along your body.

"You know I could do that myself, right?" You spoke, eyes squinted open -the car was much darker.

He didn't dignify you with a response, sliding into your side and shutting the door behind himself. He silently settled into the seat beside you, like the passenger seat was taken. Which it decidedly was not.

His blue eyes kept darting to you, and you could feel his leg pressed against yours.

"You know that I'm fine, Tangerine," you exhaled, looking to him, "-don't you?"

He didn't respond, so you continued.

"You looked at my wound, I'm alright-" you laughed a little, "-I can sit in the backseat by myself."

Tangerine seemed to think for a second, before speaking decidedly, "If you go to fuckin' sleep, love, you won't wake up. I'm 'ere to keep you awake."

You could feel his breath fan over your face, and you swallowed. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as your eyes stayed on his (blue, blue-). With another intake of breath, you snapped them away -eagerly looking out the window.

Well, you thought to yourself, you're doing a really good job, Tangerine.

The city blurred by, as it made way to more familiar silhouettes but not... not yours. Not ones near your home.

"Um," you spoke, particularly to Lemon (who was driving) "-are we not going... home?"

"You serious, love?" Tangerine offered, blue eyes decidedly matching yours.

"Are we not-"

Lemon interrupted -catching your eye in the mirror, "You were kidnapped, mate. Do you not remember 'at?"

"No, I do," you huffed out, eyes dashing between the two of them, "-they didn't get me at home though, they got me off the street."

"Doesn't mean anythin'," Tangerine countered, jaw twitching ever so slightly -he really didn't like talking about them, "-'Ey 'ave eyes on your home, 's how they made the connection to us."

"Tangerine-"

"He's got a point," Lemon responded, fingers tapping along the wheel, "-takes too much effort to prove 'im wrong, trust me."

"Lemon-"

"Why do you even want to go home, love?" Tangerine interrupted, eyebrows furrowed -genuine curiosity.

"Because it's my home," you reiterated, "-it's familiar. I know you guys may have forgotten the feeling, but it... it would make me feel a lot better to be home."

Tangerine sighed, a deep heavy sigh, "How about a compromise?"

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering across his face (god, was he pretty), "I'm listening."

"We stay at the hotel a few nights until they cool off," he offered, "-and then, you can go home."

You sighed out in relief.

"But," Tangerine clarified, "-me and Lemon need to stay with you for a while. There's not a fuckin' chance you're goin' alone after this. Especially so soon."

"What so-" you started, "-you guys are going to constantly be around me? I have work, and I... I need to get groceries-"

"We 'ave to be, love," Tangerine spoke in almost a whisper, soft, "-these people, they're not goin' to be as fuckin' nice next time. Lemon and I know 'at."

Right, you thought to yourself, mysterious jobs. They've probably done something like this before.

You involuntary shuddered, thinking about the darkness and the gun and your life-

Tangerine looked at you, eyes darting around your face -a slosh of concern sliding over his features, flickering in his eyes. It was no wonder those thoughts had come to the forefront of your mind, he was so protective of you. There's only so much you can resist feelings for someone who so very much values your life.

A handsome someone, your mind tsked.

Before he could open his mouth though, you turned your head back to the window. A familiar swirl bubbled into your stomach, you couldn't chance looking at him. Afterall, getting flustered with him was surely a dead giveaway and there was no way in hell Tangerine felt anything remotely the same.

And that was plain embarrassing.

You felt suddenly like you were in school again, and were crushing on a jock -that never even looked your way. It felt pretty hopeless, and even though it did, it didn't stop you from going to every game -just to pretend for a little while.

Was that what patching him up was? Your own sort of way to be close to him, to pretend for a moment that everything was different.

Shit, you thought, that is embarrassing.

Luckily, you severely doubted Tangerine would ever know. You were pretty good at keeping secrets. Hence, well, the whole reason you were even here in the first place -you regularly housed assassins.

It took only a few minutes after that (feeling blue eyes boring into your side the whole time) when Lemon pulled into a parking spot and you arrived at the hotel. Lucky for you, it was far from a dingy old place on the side of the road.

This place was way above your paygrade. You had never even dreamed of living such a luxury; all golden accents and marble floors. You hardly even knew this place existed in your city.

"I take it back," you whispered to Tangerine, as Lemon strode up to the front desk to request a room change, "-we can stay here forever."

You saw the woman point to you, clearly in concern and you suddenly remembered the wound on your head. Your fingers smoothed along it, and you grimaced, Lemon seemed to come up with some sort of explanation, though. And she promptly looked away.

Tangerine laughed at your words, a quiet little chuckle, and fell rather silent. You peered over at him, wondering why he hadn't said anything back; and when you did, he seemed to be stealing little looks at you -silently fidgeting with his rings.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment, debating asking him about it.

Before you could, he opened his mouth to say something -eyes lingering on your face, like he was trying to memorize it (something in your chest fluttered), "Love, I-"

"Sorry, mates," Lemon interrupted, eyes dashing between the two of you for a moment, "-rooms are booked tonight. Lady says we can try again tomorrow but she doubts it'll 'ave changed."

"So," you swallowed, "-just two bedrooms?"

"Yep," Lemon popped the p, "-and hate to say it, but I'm gettin' one by myself. You lot can figure the rest of 'at out yourselves."

Something was gleaming there in his eye -something mischievous; you frowned -heartbeat stuttering in your chest.

Maybe there's a couch, your mind chimed -a little patheticly.

As fate would have it, there was. And an entire kitchen and living space -an expensive kitchen and living space. You were truly floored by this place.

"This is a hotel, right?" you questioned, eyes lingering on the high ceilings (you decidedly did not have those).

"For rich blokes," Lemon clarified, "-the kinds 'at hate to 'ave anythin' besides luxury."

You spun around, eyes darting between the two of them, "Like you two?"

Tangerine frowned, and Lemon snorted -disappearing off into the kitchen; leaving just you and Tangerine alone in the living space. That being said, each room was actually divided, with no open concept -just archways.

You slung yourself onto the couch, inelegantly (but when were you ever elegant) and were pleased to find it felt like clouds, "Why, if you could pay for this, did you ever come to my apartment? They probably have an on-staff nurse you could page, good god-"

"Eh," Tangerine mended, voice calm and confident, "-like the company better 'ere."

You smiled to yourself, small and quiet, heart fluttering in your chest. You are not making this easy, fruit man.

You cleared your throat, about to shift the subject because you frankly could not address the fondness in his eyes. Instead, Lemon came to your rescue with a smile.

"Well," he spoke, "-I'm fuckin' exhausted, I'm off to bed. If you need anythin', ask Tangerine."

And then, with that, he left -disappearing behind one of the doors down into the hallway.

"You can't sleep," Tangerine said suddenly, "-your head... We've got to get you to a doctor in the mornin', so they can look at it."

"Why not tonight?"

"I truly fuckin' doubt anyone of credit would be open this late," he explained, sauntering up to your side and sitting down (when he had the whole couch).

"Tangerine," you spoke, "-the emergency room doesn't just... close."

"I just," he sighed out, leaning back into the couch "-I want you safe for tonight, yeah?"

"I doubt they'd show up to a hospital," you reasoned, weighing your words.

Tangerine frowned.

"Look, I just-" you paused, "-you don't have to be on watch duty. You need sleep. Just take me to the ER, and I'll-"

He scoffed, repeating, "There's no fuckin' way you're going alone, love."

Swiping the keys off one of the tables near the door and shooting Lemon a text, he grabbed your hand and guided you outside.

The night was a surprisingly quick one, as you were taken into the ER and looked at. They quickly bandaged and stitched your wound, even sending you in to get your brain looked at. Tangerine was dutifully by your side, all night, even when they told you they'd rather keep an eye on you tonight. Something along the lines of what Tangerine said, keeping you awake.

He did, however, end up getting some sleep -slouched over in a hospital chair. One of those plastic ones that really could not be comfortable, and you knew his back would ache in the morning. But when you asked him to, he straight refused to leave ("No fuckin' way, love"); so, you were sort of glad he had gotten some sleep after all.

Then, the next morning, they set you on your way. Quickly reminding your husband (it was the only way Tangerine could stay overnight) of all the bandage changes and consistent eye he should keep on you; he seemed rather serious when listening -eyes intent, and almost as if he could, he would take out a notepad and write each thing down extensively.

You were touched, something in your chest swirling widely.

Was this how he felt when you took care of him?

Well, you sort of doubted so, because they were different circumstances. Despite the closeness and the fingertips on the skin, it was less protective and more domestic. Something very different in the closeness there, and the presence of him now.

Even now, as you leaned onto the couch, scrolling through channels -you felt his eyes solidly on you.

"Tangerine," you tsked, bandage smoothed across your head, "-I'm fine."

He blinked, as your eyes swam over his face and a pink dusted along his cheeks, "That's not what I- I was just... just lookin', love."

You furrowed your eyebrows, curious, tilting your head, "Why?"

Tangerine paused, blue eyes bubbling along your skin -like he was considering his answer, or maybe deciding on one. You thought for a second that he wasn't going to say anything -wordless, as always.

"Need to change your bandage," he deflected, getting up, grabbing some supplies, and roaming over to you on the couch.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the cushions -so soft and cloudlike that you almost couldn't stay frustrated, "We just did that."

"'At was yesterday, love," Tangerine hummed, smiling ever-so-slightly, "-the doctors said-"

"The doctors said," you mocked his accent, shaking your head with the words, "-spare me the speech this time, Tan."

He smirked, face so close to yours now (peeling the old one off, rough fingertips dusting along your forehead), "Fuckin' argumentative today, yeah?"

You swallowed, eyes darting between his -back and forth, responding shortly, "Maybe."

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at the quickness of your response, dabbing at the wound quickly -cleaning it. He was gentle, with tiny little movements; it was hard to imagine these were the same hands that hurt others. He was so soft with your wound, why-

"You alright, love?"

He was a breath away, blue eyes (upon finishing the bandaging) matching yours, intensely. Tangerine just had an intense stare, like you simply held the world in your hands. It was like he didn't blink, even though you knew he did.

You swallowed, for a moment, eyes dashing along his face -it really was totally unfair. Your cheeks grew a little hot at the closeness, you saw his eyes dart to it -eyebrows furrowing together.

Good god, it really was like high-school again.

"What, yeah-" you laughed, awkwardly -eyes darting away from him, "-why would I not be?"

Tangerine hummed in thought for a second, and you could nearly hear the gears in his head turning, "Love... you're actin' really fuckin' odd right now."

You fidgeted with your fingers, watching them in your lap -you couldn't think straight right now. This was all new in your brain, and when was the last time you had feelings for someone-

"I'm not," you answered, finally -a bit like a toddler who was getting in trouble but the meaning all the same.

He sighed out a breath, seeming to settle on something and you could almost feel his eyeroll.

And without another second, you felt his fingers on your chin. Rough fingertips brushed against it, as he tilted you back to face him.

You blinked.

His blue eyes flickered along your face, slow and tedious, "You know you're safe with me, yeah?"

"Tangerine," you exhaled.

"I'd-" he started, eyes dipping away before coming back to yours -so genuine, "-I'd save you without the deal, you know 'at? Anytime, anywhere-"

"Tangerine, that's not-" you faltered, he was so broken open, vulnerable, to you right now. Something in your chest heavy, and your heart ready to spill on your tongue.

"I'd shoot 'im over and over again if it made ya feel safe, love," he continued, fingertip brushing along your skin like he was cradling your face, "-I'm sorry I ever let 'im put a fuckin' hand on you, you 'ave to know 'at."

"Tangerine," you sighed out, soft, "-That's not your fault."

"It is."

"Tangerine-"

"You're afraid now, aren't you?" He echoed out, a soft sort of whisper but filled with intent, "-How does 'at not mean I'm responsible? I never should've-"

"Tangerine!" You exclaimed, resorting to using your hands to cup his face -bringing him back down to earth, "-I'm not... afraid."

He paused.

"Well, yeah, I am, but it's not-" you tsked, before sighing, "-I know you'll keep me safe. I don't know how I know, I just... do."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Then why-"

And then, as normal, your brain stopped functioning, words coming out before you could think them over, "You're very pretty."

He opened his mouth, a smirk smoothing onto his lips. You didn't let him continue.

"And I'm not immune to a pretty man caring about my well-being," you clarified, swallowing -somehow maintaining eye contact, "-I'm not... good at handling it."

"You're..." he started, a quirk of a smile on his lips (not that you were looking), "You're fuckin' flustered, love?"

"Mortifyingly embarrassed," you corrected, your voice squeaked out.

Tangerine laughed a little, "Ya sure you didn't hit your head too hard?"

"Ha ha, laugh it up, mustache," you responded, rolling your eyes -much more comfortable. The banter was easy.

"Well," he tsked, and you were suddenly very aware of how close his face is to yours, "-you apparently fuckin' like it, love. What's 'at say about you?"

You swallowed, "Didn't say it doesn't suit you."

"Hmm," he hummed, and there was a flicker of something in his eye -mischievous, "-guess not."

"Nope," you popped the p -awkwardly. Your eyes darting between his frantically, you felt something building in the air a moment -heavy as your eyes sat on his, and his on yours.

It was almost as if, a look, one glance held your entire being in the balance.

"I think you're quite pretty too, ya know," he echoed out, low and gravelly -you could feel his breaths scattered across your face. He was suddenly very close to you again, the fuzziness that banter provided snatched away.

Something twisted in the bottom of your stomach, as you opened your mouth -letting out a very quiet, "Thank you."

He seemed to take those words, just absorb them in the heavy silence that had bestowed upon the room. There was a part of you that wished Lemon was still here, that he could pull you apart but he left early that morning. And now, here you were, and all you could think about was his lips and that stupid fucking mustache-

You blinked, clearing the fog, and clearing your throat -backing up and standing to your feet.

Tangerine slowly came to the realization, the haze drifting out of his eyes, as they came to default onto yours -still intense but not as close. You could handle this.

"Anyway," you bit your lip, "-I'm kind of starved, do you... want anything?"

"Do I fuckin' want anythin'," he mumbled to himself for a moment -hands carefully putting the old bandage on the table and arranging all of the supplies so they wouldn't fall off.

And with a slow measured breath, he rose to his feet -steps teetering closer to you. His hands found solace in his hair as he rifled it up a bit, and on the cuff of his shirt -you saw a little blood. Was that from you? From your bandage-

"I've got somethin' in mind," he finally said, a little distant from you, but nothing like before (maybe just a few steps away from the closeness of the couch).

"Yeah, um," you cleared your throat, but it still felt dry, "-what do you... want? I think we've got like some... fancy tortilla chips and salsa, which... is a good one, or-"

He laughed a deep sort of low chuckle, erasing those steps you talked about before. You swallowed, words trailing off; there was a little spark in his eye when he noticed that you had -pride.

"You are really un-fuckin'-believable, you know 'at, love?"

"I think you've told me before."

He laughed at that, shaking his head, and you felt the breaths of each one scattered along your face -brushing onto your lips. You snapped your mouth closed at the thought.

Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, deep, deep breaths. You can do this.

Tangerine grew rather silent, before words seemed to bubble out of him without thinking, "You."

"What?"

"I want you, love," he clarified, "-in particular, I'd really love to fuckin' kiss ya right now, is 'at alright?"

"I didn't think you were the type to ask," you quipped, before you could really think about it, again.

He furrowed his eyebrows, a bit in defense.

"No, I mean-" you scrambled for a minute, "-you feel like the kinda guy that does it-"

"It?"

"-in like an emotional rush. You know? Like no words, just... just..."

Tangerine sighed, but you could see the quirk of a smile on his lips -you hadn't scared him off yet apparently.

"Sorry," you squeaked out, and you definitely saw a smile smooth across his lips.

"I'm fuckin' askin' ya, love. Say yes or no, yeah?"

"Yes," it came out in a rush of breath, a little like it clawed up your throat with desperation, "-yes."

Tangerine didn't hesitate a second longer, pushing forward with a force unmatched -big hands coming to cup your face at the hinge of your jaw. It was desperate, almost like he'd been waiting to do this awhile and the idea of that, made your breath catch.

You briefly wondered when it started, before he pushed into you further -hands righting themselves just below your ears on the back of your neck. He made you bump into the wall behind you. Tangerine promptly swallowed your squeak at the sensation, as easy as breathing.

Of course he was good at kissing too, your mind chimed, so unfair.

And then a more coy voice spoke up, but hey, he does want to kiss you though, I'd count that as a win.

Yeah, you decided as his mustache scratched ever so slightly at your upper lip and his hands dropped to your waist, definitely a win.

He pulled back a moment, breaths ragged and slow -eyes darting over yours, "Was good, yeah?"

You decidedly didn't answer him, pushing forward to kiss him again -this time a little slower, less rushed. He was just as slow, fingers holding your waist just slightly tighter like he didn't want you to leave.

Why the hell would I leave?

Tangerine was the one to part that time too, eyes slow to open like the kiss had affected him just as much. Your heart beat a little faster at that.

"Take that as a yes, yeah?"

"Oh, definitely," you laughed, hands coming to rest between his chest and shoulders.

He's strong too, your mind unwillingly retorted.

He didn't move, like he was simply absorbing your breaths and to be fair, you were pretty sure you were doing the same. He was nearly panting after all.

Words slipped out before you could stop them, "When I told you to borrow sugar, this was not what I was expecting."

Tangerine paused for a moment, gears working. Before his face flickered into something of annoyance, frown so prominent.

"Good god, fuckin' shut up, love."

"Make me," you offered, laughing.

And he certainly did.

#tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tan's things #borrow some sugar

237 notes · View notes

chocoenvy · 2 years

Note

ok but like

imagine a sagau au where the reader isn't recognized by the acolytes

but they aren't being hunted down by them either

and in this au looking like the creator isn't a sin it just warrants a "damn must be truly blessed by the creator to be blessed with their face"

and the reader just kinda wants to see how long it takes for everyone to realize

also venti is the first to know and the reader literally begs him not to tell anyone

and they both just kinda

vibe as gods in disguise

Say My Name

In where you begin your journey in a fairly dull way, but that doesn't make it any less exciting.

Part two

Characters: Barbara, Noelle, Venti

Notes: Once again, I have made Venti a prominent character in a fic. I have grown far too attatched to him :( AND I WANTED TO MAKE THIS MORE ABOUT NOELLE BUT I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM BECAUSE VENTI'S FAT ASS TOOK UP ALL OF IT. And I didn't want to shove something in at the end, I thought it was a good stopping point so I didn't stretch the fic on longer than it needed to go. Anyways this was fun to write either way :)

warnings: fluff, cult behaviors, comical

Considering how extravagant and lively Teyvat is, your arrival was fairly dull.

You were freaking out of course, your heart beating out of your chest and breathing erratic. What were you supposed to do when you wake up in your favorite game? What was the right course of action?

Frankly, you thought you were dead or about to die. Teyvat is crawling with high level monsters. Maybe this was all a big fever dream?

You sighed, clutching your head, so many thoughts whirling around and yet none of them stayed long enough for you to get a good grasp of the situation or the best course of action.

But one thought remained consistent as your eyes drifted over to the path laid out before you. Mondstadt.

The moment you lay your eyes on the bridge leading to the Mondstadt gates you can't help yourself, running past Timmie's birds, shouting out a quick sorry to him, and sprinting as fast as you could to the gates. You slowed as you neared them and Lawrence - the gate guard - stopped you in your tracks.

"Greetings strange but respectable traveler!" He saluted, his eyes wide staring at you and you assumed it's because of the odd way you dressed, "May I ask what business you have in Mondstadt?"

"Oh! Just visiting." You grinned, feeling a tad bit dizzy at hearing his voice right in front of you and not just through your headphones. Not to mention the fact that his hair looked so real and nice.

He hummed and nodded, "Alright then, just don't cause any trouble." He waved you off.

That was easy... you mused. Though you didn't dwell on it and marveled at the wonderous city adorned with the high-noon sun and pretty flowers.

You could hear the humming of bards and birds, the sound of Flora selling her flowers, and of course Donna simping over Diluc.

It was all so familiar, from the people to the music and the tiles on the floor, it all felt like the beginning of your journey. Almost like home, you couldn't help but hum along to the merry music.

You passed by Katheryne and she waved at you knowingly but didn't say anything. You decided not to question her about it - Katheryne knew a lot of things anyways so you decided this was pretty in-character for her - and you waved back with a grin.

You wandered meaninglessly through the calming streets, still humming the tune. You came upon the fountain in the plaza and paused. Usually, you'd climb up the wall to get past but now you had to actually walk.

You chuckled, you weren't sure why but this was such a nice feeling and you sprinted to the left until you came upon a set of stairs. You climbed up them and made your way to Venti's large statue.

When you made it, you craned your neck up to take it all in, an awed smile on your face.

"Ah, are you a newcomer?" A nearby nun asked you, snapping you out of your dazed state.

"Oh! Uh- yeah I am!" You grinned sheepishly.

The nun hummed, smiling warmly, "You must be truly blessed to look so similar to our creator. You can go into the cathedral if you want to see our offerings to them." She nodded towards said building, "Hope you enjoy your stay in Mondstadt!" She waved, now even allowing you to get a word out before moving along.

You stared after her for a minute before whispering to yourself, "What the fuck-"

You turned back around and stared cautiously at the cathedral. What did she mean by creator? Stuff like this has never been mentioned in the lore before...

You'd been in the cathedral maybe a hundred times and had never seen anything that could be attributed to some... creator or whatever she meant by that.

So, naturally, you had to go and investigate.

The moment you entered those cathedral doors (with no loading screen separating the two anymore), your eyes immediately caught onto the shrine built on top of the rotating door. Two pairs of stairs leading up to it.

You gaped at the shrine, grand and well-kept, but what caught even more of your attention was the sheer amount of offerings left out at the base below the shrine. There was so much food and random shiny objects, some of which looked more than what you were worth.

Your jaw hang open at the sight, and you noticed you started to get some odd stares. You fixed your face and donned a more neutral expression, looking on at the shrine curiously.

"Ah, first time in Mondstadt's cathedral?" said a soft and familiar voice.

You whipped your head around to face Barbara, her sparkling eyes fixed onto you.

You composed yourself - both at the scene in front of you and the fact you just met Barbara face-to-face - "Yeah, it is."

"You look so much like our beloved creator!" She exclaimed, "It must be such an honor to be blessed with their lovely face!"

"U-uhm..." You stuttered, sending her an awkward smile, "I suppose so."

Her eyes shifted and you felt a jolt of unease in your chest, sinking into your heart, "Sorry, I'm just not used to Mondstadt's customs. We practice things quite differently where I'm from."

"Oh! Sorry then," Barbara frowned, "I didn't mean any disrespect, I just wanted to make sure you weren't disrespecting our creator in any ways. I suppose in the end it didn't do any good."

You hummed non-committedly and gazed back upon the shrine. There was a statue of the supposed creator upon there and unconsciously you took steps towards it. As you gazed up at it, it was as though you were looking into a mirror.

The statue was an exact replica of you, in every way shape and form it was you.

"It truly is remarkable how alike you two are," Barbara smiled up at the statue, pure devotion in her eyes, "It was an honor to look upon you and see an image that so wonderously reflects our creator's." She smiled at you.

You nodded and she left with a wave. A few moments later you left the church.

The problems in this perfect world arose when your stomach started to growl and you realized...

You had no mora.

"Goddamnit I'm having a Zhongli moment," You cursed the gods (specifically Venti and Zhongli) for not giving you mora when you arrived to Teyvat.

Although you didn't have to worry about that for long, oddly enough. When you were eyeing Good Hunters, a kind little lady approached you.

"E-excuse me," Her cute voice cracked and your eyes met with Noelle's, "Are you hungry? I could um-" Her eyes diverted away from yours but always seemed to come back to stare into your eyes, "I could make you something if you so wish."

You gasped, your face lighting up in a smile that reddened Noelle's cheeks, "Really? Oh! I'd love to try some of your Tea Break Pancakes- oh! Ah, nevermind. You don't have to." You waved her offer off, "I don't even have any mora on me."

"That's fine." She grinned, "Consider it... a gift to our creator. A celebration of how much you look like them."

"Ah," You couldn't help the surprised smile that tugged up at the corners of your lips, "That's- I mean I appreciate it but I'm sure there's much better uses you could use with your time-"

"Nonsense! I insist," Her resolve was as sturdy as the sword you'd given her, "A little treat of mine."

"I-" Your stomach interrupted any argument you were going to make, "Fine..." You sighed, "But I owe you okay? If you ever need anything just ask me."

She agreed and made you the meal, which you excitedly watched her make. It was so surreal watching Noelle make the pancakes instead of just pressing a couple buttons.

Even still she made those pancakes in record time, you were impressed.

"Thank you so much Noelle! Really, you're carrying Mondstadt on your shoulders." You giggled.

Her face flushed a bright red and she waved her hands dismissively, "Oh no no no, I don't do that much. I'm... not even a knight yet." She frowned.

"Well," You said in-between bites, "You do as much if not more than the knights do. Don't put yourself down just 'cause you're not official yet."

Your smile, a replica of the ones on the statue but brighter and more personal caused Noelle to feel nearly dizzy.

"You're far too kind... Oh! Dear, where are my manners?" She huffed, "What's your name?"

"Oh! It's (Name)." You held out your hand but she didn't take it immediately.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion, "Isn't that... the creator's name? Did your parents name you that?"

Your mind blanked. Why the hell does this creator person have my face and my name?

You chuckled, "They did."

Noelle hummed and nodded along, "It's a bit unusual but not like it's against the law or anything," She shrugged and took your hand, "It's nice to meet you (name). I'm Noelle, though it seems you already knew that..?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I've heard of you. You're the best maid in Mondstadt. Who knows, maybe the best maid in all of Teyvat." You chuckled as her face bloomed into color once more.

"Truly, you flatter me too much," She fanned her face in an attempt to get rid of the heat, "...have you really heard of me outside of Mondstadt."

Without hesitation, you nodded while biting into the pancake, "Of course!" You technically weren't lying. You'd heard of her outside of Mondstadt... and outside of Teyvat... in your world. So it was technically true.

She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes lit up in wonder, and a soft giggle escaped her throat, "Aha, I'm so happy..."

Without thinking, you reached over and patted her head. She had stars in her eyes. "I'm glad," You said, "You deserve it."

You and Noelle had talked throughout the entire day. She had often went to go and help people and you tried your best to help her as well. Finding stray cats, helping children find lost items or getting them down from high places, collecting and delivering items for people.

You did your best to nudge Noelle away from accepting every little thing that came her way, but majority of the time she'd end up helping the person. So you settled for helping lessen her load by helping her complete the tasks instead.

When night time finally rolled around Noelle finally bid you good night and you were hesitant to leave her because...

You had nowhere to stay.

The dark Mondstadt streets, only lit up by the few streetlights still lit by candles and night owls still awake inside their houses creeped you out.

Where would you stay? You couldn't stay outside for too long, it was freezing and you only had the clothes on your back.

Maybe you could sneak into Angel's Share and sleep in the rafters? That way you'd stay warm and they were open 24/7 you believed.

Maybe you should just tell someone you got transported here from another world. That's what the Traveler did and now they're a renowned hero with a teapot to live in...

Teapot... Teapot! If you could find the Teapot...

"Shit! Where did I last set it down..." You scrounged through your memory, praying it wasn't in the inventory. You had no clue how to access that or if you even could access it.

You recalled... teleporting to Windrise to grab some crystalflies and heal up... and opening up your teapot. That's where it is then. Or at least you hoped.

Even if it wasn't there, sleeping in the big Windrise tree didn't sound like a bad idea. So long as you didn't freeze to death.

With that in mind you set out to begin your walk to Windrise, sending a wave to Katheryne as you left. She wished you good luck which made your heart swell. Her eyes always seemed to know too much... but in this case it was quite comforting.

You also waved goodbye to the guards outside Mondstadt's gate, and they saluted with kind smiles.

You hummed, tiredly making your way across the bridge once more. What a lovely day in Mondstadt, you mused to yourself, humming the quiet nighttime tune.

Your legs were jelly by the time you made it to Windrise, silently thanking the gods that you weren't attacked on the way there. Tiredly, you looked around the statue and the tree for any sign of your teapot and...

nothing. Absolutely nothing.

With a groan, you sat down at the base of the statue, burying your head in your hands, too tired to hold your head up on your own.

You just needed to shut your eyes for a moment...

You blinked your eyes open as the sun glared at you. Squinting up, you noticed you were now laying at the base of the statue.

You paused as a melody filled your ears, close by and unfamiliar. You turned your head to see a bard - your bard - playing the lyre and humming a tune.

"Ah, you're finally awake." He grinned, "What were you doing sleeping outside by the statue?"

You groggily sat up, "Venti?" You groaned, "I was just... traveling and ended up falling asleep."

He hummed, "You know my name?"

Goddamnit-

You nodded, "Yes, you're quite the famous bard aren't you?" The excuse flew naturally off your tongue, it wasn't necessarily a lie either.

Venti giggled, his fingers idly plucking a tune, "Quite the charmer aren't you? Though, can't say you're entirely incorrect. I am the best bard in the world! Most famous though? I can't really say." He leaned in, his face nearly touching yours, "So, how do you know me hm? You just arrived to Mondstadt yesterday after all and I don't believe you ever caught my name or even saw me."

"...You were watching me?" You questioned, your eyes narrowed.

Venti faked an offended gasp, "You make me sound like a criminal! I was merely observing my surroundings. I saw you, an odd looking traveler, and had to observe you for a bit of time. Can't blame me for being a little curious." His grin was sly and it made you roll your eyes.

"Still a bit creepy if you ask me, especially for an apparently not-so-famous bard." You challenged him, your eyes sharp as they dug into him.

He shrugged, "I gotta watch over Mondstadt. I love the city with my life, you know. Now answer the question, how do you know me?" His eyes were so playful for such a scathing question.

You hummed, surprisingly calm given how wrong this could go, "How do you think I know you, bard?"

He giggled, "Asking me the questions now are you?" His fingers switched up and started playing a much more familiar tune. One he shouldn't know, "Perhaps you've been watching me for a long time now. And whenever I saw your eyes I just knew they were the same ones that had been watching me for countless months. Hm?"

Your eyes shot open, "How do you know that song?"

"I know every song," His teal eyes sparkled with mischief and glee, "Past present and future."

Your jaw slackened, but you couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips.

"I suppose I wasn't aware of just how far your knowledge reached, O' Anemo Archon." You snickered, and jokingly bowed.

Venti giggled, his fingers stopping his playing so he could mockingly bow back, "And I suppose I wasn't aware of how stubborn you are, O' Great Creator."

"What?" Your playful nature halted in its tracks as you stared at Venti, dumbfounded.

He blinked, confused, "Huh?"

You shook your disbelief away with a shake of your head and a laugh, "Did you just call me Teyvat's God?" You chuckled, "Then should I call you your friend's name?"

A flash of hurt took over his eyes, he whined, "Huh? What do they have to do with this, your grace?"

"What?" Dread crawled into the back of your throat, "Cut it out Venti, don't joke like that."

"But I'm not joking, your grace. Did you- did you not know?" His eyes were wide and glassy, "I'm sorry..."

You blinked owlishly, "Wha- you're serious? I thought- I thought I just looked like them!"

"I thought that was your intention!" Venti cried, "I thought this was like- a test of loyalty or something!"

"No! What? Am I actually-" You couldn't force the words out as you stared Venti in the eyes, stunned.

"Y-yes!" He shouted, "You're the creator! I can sense it! So can the slimes and animals. Don't you see?" He pointed to the nearby birds, their gaze turned towards you, "They like you! The monsters don't attack you and this statue calls out to you! Don't you feel its warmth? It's probably why you didn't freeze last night."

You were silent as the information processed, "So- so wait!" You turned your body fully facing Venti, "That shrine in the cathedral... was for me?" You asked, bewildered.

He nodded, "Yeah! Did- did you really not know?"

Immediately you were wildly shaking your head, "No! I just- I dunno! I thought I was like the traveler or something that just got dropped off here one day."

"The traveler came here of their own free will, (Name)!" Venti sighed, "I just- You look exactly like them too!"

"Listen! Denial is a powerful think, okay!" You huffed.

"Fine, I get it." He rested his head on his hands, his eyes meeting yours, "So... are you gonna tell the others?"

"... Dunno." You shrugged, "What would happen if I did?"

"Well..." Venti tapped his finger against his face and used his other hand to hold up his pointer finger, "Zhongli would go batshit. He's got a whole log up his ass when it comes to you and how to 'properly worship you' bleh." Venti stuck his tongue out, "Then there's Baal, she'll probably also go insane over you. She's like a lost puppy." He held up a third finger, "Then there's Jean and the knights. I think they'd be... alright. If you told them they'd try and throw huge festivals for you and worship you. Oh, and the church would triple their worshipping for you, obviously."

You roughly sighed, "So... I won't be treated as a human is what you're saying."

"I mean- well- yeah." He frowned, "Don't worry, I get it if you don't wanna do a whole grand reveal. It's stressful. Too much work, y'know?"

You hummed in agreement, "The thing is..." You frowned, "We don't have any mora."

Venti scoffed, straightening his back with a proud grin, "Speak for yourself! I have a mora."

You snorted, "A mora."

"Hey, better than what you're doing," He took off his hat, "It's right in here-"

You both stared at the hat that was almost as empty as your souls.

"Okay well," Venti put his hat back on, "Nothing a little begging can't do. Not like I haven't played music for money before."

You stared at the ground hopelessly, "...so... how do you think Ningguang would react to me telling her I'm the creator?"

Venti snorted, "I like the way you think but... she'd be grand. I think she'd make you live in the Jade Chamber and give you every little thing you could ever want. She can keep a secret though I'll bet."

You hummed and stared at Venti, living a life as free as a bird. Even with the status of the Anemo Archon, he was as free as his people, and just as happy as them as well.

"Not really the life I wanna live... what about Childe?"

Venti shuddered, "I love you (Name), but no. He makes... quite a spectacle of things. And, well," Venti frowned, "He'd probably leave a few corpses at your doorstep."

"Ah," You grimaced, "Okay so... we're fucked."

"Ah ah ah," Venti waggled his finger comically, "Don't you remember what I said? I can sing for money, and I'm sure with you, the creator's look-alike right by my side helping me with my performance, we'd make double the money! I mean," His eyes were alight with mischievous glee, an expression on him you were coming to dread, "That Noelle girl yesterday had no problem giving you a free meal just cause you look like the creator! So I'm sure we'll pull in lots of cash!"

You frowned and then a lightbulb went off in your head, "Wait a minute," Venti raised a brow, intrigued, "If I'm the supposed creator or god of this world... then those offerings at the altars and shrines are meant for me... right?"

Venti nodded with a tilt of his head, "Yes? ...Oh... Oh!" His eyes lit up like Christmas lights, "You mean-?"

You grinned, "So that means that if I were to... let's say... take the items and sell them, it wouldn't be wrong right?"

Venti tilted his head back and laughed, "No, I suppose it wouldn't be, your grace."

Your grin was damn near evil, "Then I suppose we have our plan then."

Venti nodded, "I suppose we do!" He hopped up and grabbed your hand to help you up as well, "Though I think my singing idea was pretty good." He kicked his legs up like a child as you both made your way back to Mondstadt, "Who knows, I might even become the most famous bard in all of Teyvat with you by my side!"

You hummed, smiling fondly at the silly bard at your side, "Perhaps."

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nqmonarch · 3 months

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hihi! I want to say that I really LOVE the way you write Blade <33 and also what do you think about Blade with a reader who was part of the hcq in the past being reincarnated and joining the stellaron hunters in the present timeline but they don't remember anything from their past such as being Yingxing's lover

Yeah! Of course :) Didn't know if you wanted Yandere Blade or normal Blade assuming the former because it's the only Blade, it's not anything hardcore tho, I've written so far but let me know if this doesn't suit you, and I'll try again :)

Warning: High Cloud Quintet Spoilers,

TW: Kidnapping, Yandere

Note: Reader is a vidyadhara (think that makes the most sense in terms of reincarnation)

You knew everyone fairly well but you knew Yingxing the best. The two of you spending evenings next to each other in the same bed and days by each other's side. You weren't much of a fighter but he made you a weapon nonetheless and you carried it everywhere.

You would laugh as you saw Jing Yuan and Yingxing train while Jingliu would make them run laps every time they messed up their stance. You would stare at the skies with Baiheng and speak about worlds you'd only heard of in stories. Dan Feng was the one you knew the least but as everyone else became rowdy the two of you would stand in silence, both of you smiling with equal understanding of each other.

Then Shuhu, an emanator of abundance, attacked and those happy moments drifted off as dandelion seeds in the wind. You focused on evacuating citizens, fighting off mara struck with the knowledge you'd gained from watching Yingxing train. Your eyes were always on his body. Jing Yuan had been with you initially, the two of you had been talking about what to do for Yingxing's birthday. Beneath Jing Yuan's aloof exterior there was still a child, he was young after all.

You weren't sure where everyone else was but you only hoped they'd be okay.

Baiheng died. Dan Feng and Yingxing committed a sin, which would lead to both of them being banished. Jingliu returned but was struggling with mara. Jing Yuan was left to deal with the consequences as you left. You couldn't leave your lover on your own could you?

So you followed the mess that Yingxing was, making sure he never got hurt too much, trying to keep him safe. He didn't look the same, white hair turned to a blueish black and cool gray eyes turned a burning hot red. You still loved him, he didn't remember you, and whenever he did it was followed by a bout of pain. Part of you didn't want him to remember, if it was that terrible.

For the majority of the time you stayed by his side he was in and out of it, struggling to even move at points. You weren't around to see when he was able to fight time and again, when he went and hunted after Dan Heng, and how every time he was slain he came back stronger anew.

You had to leave, otherwise you likely would've died. You did it while he slept, otherwise he would've realized and maybe you would've felt too guilty to leave. But you had to go through the rebirth process. You left behind a journal for yourself to read and so you would go back to Yingxing but you never got the chance. After all if anyone else read it, why would they want a Vidyadhara leaving and risking their life, when population numbers already dwindled? Especially if they were risking their life for someone who almost ruined everything.

You were told you took a hundred extra years to hatch. You learned everything anew, deciding to pick up a weapon, it felt comfortable in your hands. Sometimes you'd dream of fighting mara struck off with it, sometimes the weapon was idly by your side as you felt joy course through dream you's body as you spoke to a friendly white haired male.

The thing was throughout a hundred years of living you'd never found a reason to live. The only thing you longed for were your dreams. You'd heard of a land called Penacony, where you could live in your dreams, and you'd smuggled your way in but it wasn't what you thought. You wanted to live in your memories, not some idealistic world. So you wandered planet from planet in search of something, anything. Your only purpose became finding a reason to live.

Everything changed when a woman called Kafka recruited you, she was all smiles and charm, and promised you the thing you were looking for. You'd been skeptical and challenged her but when she elaborated that you'd be able to live within your memories, you decided to join her. Whether Elio's plan worked out or not mattered naught to you, so long as you were able to live in your memories again.

Your dreams got fuzzier harder to reach with time, as if your past life was slipping away from you. This wasn't supposed to happen. But things improved slightly when a man with long navy blue hair eagerly joined the Stellaron Hunters. He looked at you with a strange longing gaze, it was honestly rather pathetic. Pathetic looked good on him though, well he looked good in general.

"Blade," Your voice held no extra emotion to it as he walked over to you, he felt strangely familiar, as if existing by his side wouldn't be that bad.

So you hung around him often, you weren't sure why he hung around you but he didn't speak much to you. It wasn't that there was nothing to say but too much to say, to the point he couldn't say anything. Instead he often clung onto you like you were his lifeline, in bouts of mara, his grip hurt but it wasn't the worst pain you'd experienced. Being a Stellaron Hunter meant you'd faced your fair share of fights. Now that Blade was here, you got hurt less and less, he'd tank blows for you and annihilate whoever you were against. There were always large stains of blood left in the place of your battles but you never got dirty.

You wondered what he would do if you died, go insane? From the little sanity he had left, "What would you do if I died?" You asked a slight smile on your face before returning to your usual silence.

You didn't have a moment to speak before you felt your back crash against the cold, hard floor knocking the air out of you. Normally you'd be able to keep up with Blade while sparring, although you doubted he had the heart to go all out against you. Now he gripped your biceps with no regard for your feelings, yet, it only lasted a few seconds as he loosened his hold to remove the pain yet keep you still. His knees rested next to your hips, and you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

"...You don't like that question?" You spoke with a grin on your face, was he really so attached to you?

Hot red eyes glared at you, as if you'd just committed a sin, "No. You... don't understand anything now. You... you've done far more than you should've." He forced himself to let go of your arms, standing up and walking away as stiff as a board. It was as if the very process was agonizing.

You stared at his back in puzzlement, "...Blade did you know me?"

He didn't answer.

Which led to your turn to chase Blade, always a step behind. When you weren't following him, you knew he was nearby, somewhere you couldn't see him. You could feel his gaze rest on your head, it felt very unique. You'd beg Blade for any clue about your past but he would remain quiet, as if ignoring you. He'd still step into all of your fights, blade itching to be used.

You only made progress on the mission where you'd been ordered to go to the Xianzhou Luofu, as someone who'd been raised there you happily snuck along even if it wasn't your mission. You were sure Elio knew anyway. Blade was on his own mission and for once you were alone. On the Luofu you met a man that gave you the same familiar feeling as Blade, a young fellow by the name of Dan Heng. He didn't recognize you at all though, so you assumed you didn't know him. He was the only one to catch a glimpse of your face without your cloak.

You traveled with him, Luocha, and Sushang for fun before dashing off to the streets, cloak covering any distinguishable part of your body, to buy some snacks. You ran into a short dragon girl, who felt somewhat familiar, but you doubted you knew her too. But then there was the general of the Luofu, a well spoken man, who put on the appearance of a slacker.

Did he sleep because he could no longer stand life? He felt familiar as well but you also empathized with him and that was why you went up to talk him. Putting on the act of a fortune teller, you saw a hint of recognition when he heard your voice. He agreed to let his fortune be read, and you did so staring at him for any other hint of your past. He looked at you very sorrowfully.

You weren't sure what compelled you to say it but you shared some thoughts with him, "I sleep a lot too," you suddenly remarked, uncaring that it gave away you having watched over him for a while, "Less now. But in the past the only place I could live was my dreams, memories of my past life. I yearn for them, dearly."

The general looked at you his smile waning, "Then perhaps one day we can discuss them." So he did know you. Who... exactly were you in the past? How did you find so much happiness, in the simplest things? How could you do that now?

But the two of you were never able to discuss that as the final act of Blade and Kafka's plan came into fruition you found yourself between a mournful Jing Yuan and Blade, who'd reappeared. You didn't mind Blade's company, he just got in the way sometimes.

Especially when he was holding the blade of his sword to the only person who'd been willing to help you recover your past. Jing Yuan didn't put up a fight, it was rather strange, instead he spoke in a wistful tone, "The two of you found each other again." Perhaps you'd been closer to Blade in your past life than you thought.

You'd unceremoniously been brought back to the ship the Stellaron Hunters were currently using. It was not by choice. Blade held you in his arms as you kicked and bit and scratched. He didn't mind in the slightest. He may have even liked it which dissuaded you a bit from continuing. You didn't scream, he'd probably kill any bystanders who cared anyway.

It was annoying. Even once you were back on the ship he was always by your side, literally. One part of his body had to be touching yours at all times, otherwise he'd begin to panic.

"...Tell me about my past." You demanded, glaring at him, concerningly more upset over this matter than him kidnapping you and his constant clinginess.

"Of six people, three must pay the price... why did you waste your time caring for someone like me? You love me..." then in a pitiful voice, seeking for confirmation he asked, "right?"

You looked at the mess of the man before you, had you loved him in your previous life? If so, then wasn't he part of your happiness... So you'd have to learn to love him again, "Right," You lied with a smile, resting a hand on his back as he embraced you burying his face in your neck.

The moment Blade couldn't see your face the smile dropped from it.

Imo Blade would hide his own sinful past and actions from the reader and not want them to have to embark down the road of pain, since he knows how terrible it is.

Reader is also lowkey a two faced person, don't know how much you guys noticed, but they put on one of those facades but inside they're like i'm dying inside yay... ._. i like two faced characters :) they're so fun to read in stories, haven't really written one before though

I honestly think reader is more unhealthy than Blade like yeah he's kind of obsessed with you but at the same time reader just concerning like highly fucking concerning. Did not mean for reader to be so concerning just happened.

Anyway as much as I love like that I waited 800 years for you troupe! I'm not a big fan of it, personally, with Blade's character just because he's a very big red flag for a relationship even as a non yandere. Being in love with someone from the past can turn out good but I feel like with Blade it would turn out so horribly and he would just see a memory as opposed to the past, present, and future of the reader.

I like the idea of him falling in love with someone while he's Blade because Blade feels like a very different person from Yingxing.

That being said the idea of reincarnated lovers always has its own kind of charm :)

#TW Yandere #reader insert #hsr #hsr x reader #gn reader #blade x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader

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kenny-the-ken · 1 year

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Y O U + M E |Pt 3|

A LOT OF WARNINGS WITH THIS ONE!!!! ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS AND IN HIGH SCHOOL/COLLEGE!! Loosely based on the Netflix show YOU, if y'all have seen it,,, then you know what Kenny's gonna do. If you haven't seen it,,, strap yourselves in, it's a lot!! Yandre Kenny, strong language, sexual content, violence, mentions of blood, gore, stalking, obsession and narcissistic thinking, so please beware!! I warned y'all!!

ALSO!!! A lot of this fic is written as Kenny's internal monologue and from his perspective so bare that in mind!!

Spring break. The literal bane of my existence. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love parties, I've taken more drugs than most people I know, excluding my parents of course, but Spring Break in the US was known for crazy parties, girls half naked in bikinis, guys chugging 2% alcohol content beers thinking that they're the shit, and copious amounts of drugs.

I don't care about any of that though, no, not at all, which you may be extremely shocked to hear, the only thing I cared about was, what were you doing for spring break?

Were you going to any parties? Were you meeting any friends, old or new? Were you planning to show yourself off in a tiny bikini, not that I'm complaining, but I'd rather see you like that alone, without other men's wondering eyes glaring at you as if you're a piece of meat. I can promise you y/n, that would not end well for anyone involved.

I had texted you this morning, like we do every morning. We fucked but after that it felt like we drifted apart. Or rather, you drifted from me. So here I sit, in my bathroom, cock in hand with my face buried in your used panties that I'd stolen from a while back, I assumed you didn't miss them much, and anyway, they were currently in use.

I'd give anything for another taste, your lips were soft, plumped, and oh so red from how aggressive I can be, your h/c cascaded perfectly down your back, and your breasts.

"Fuck." I knew thinking about you like this would make me cum faster, and that's exactly what I wanted, for reasons you'll find out soon enough.

Your pierced nipples and how perfectly shaped they were, your ass was round and perfect for slapping when you needed taught a lesson. Your hips were perfect for gripping, and oh how I'd grip your hips and fuck myself deeper and deeper and shit.

And just like that, here I am, hand covered in my own jizz, cock twitching between my legs and your panties still in my hand.

I have a box, I keep it under lock and key behind my wardrobe, just some little souvenirs, your panties, some nude Polaroids I'd found of you in your bedroom. Oh yeah, and one of Clyde's teeth. Just to remember him by.

You see, although we weren't dating, that didn't mean that you weren't in need of protection, you see, I'd overheard Clyde chatting to Jimmy about how he was thinking of asking you on a date. Now, I've known Clyde for a long time, he uses women like they're nothing, fucks 'em, leaves 'em.

What did you expect me to do? I mean, I did this for you! He was going to take advantage of your kindness and use you for his own sexual gratification and desires and then throw you away like you're worthless, and you are far from worthless. I'd kiss your feet as you walked the earth if you'd let me, oh how I'd worship you, like you deserve to be.

It wasn't too hard to kill Clyde, you see, when you've been known as a fuck boy before, which I unfortunately have been, other fuck boys, they tend to trust you more. So Clyde was pretty easy to reel in. I told him the truth, how I was working on an English project with you and I fucked you in your bedroom, and Clyde was all over that shit like a dog on heat. He was so focussed on what he was planning to text to you, obviously with my keen eye proof reading it for him, he was too distracted to notice me coming behind him with a brick. He only realised just as it was too late, sorry dude, your skull's caved in.

We needn't worry about the details of where his body is, let's just say... I've taken care of it. And tonight was our date, and also the first night of spring break, I would ask you what you were up to, and of course I wouldn't demand to come, unless you chose to invite me, no, I would just hang out in background, you won't even notice that I'm there. And I dare anyone to try anything, they would be dead men walking.

It didn't take long for the time of our date to roll around, and I stood on your doorstep, politely knocking on your door a few times, before smiling as the door cracked open.

You were breathtaking. I'd worked my ass off at City Wok to be able to afford to take you out to dinner, and my god, no food could ever look as delicious as you looked right now. Your tits, your hips, your ass, your legs, your hair, your face, everything! We were destined to be together, and when you smiled back at me I swore my heart swole in my chest.

"Hey, Kenny. You ready to go?" You asked, pulling your leather jacket on over your short, black dress that was showing off way too much cleavage for me to control myself for the entire evening, god I'd take you right here right now if I could.

"I was born ready, baby. I got these for you." I replied, bowing to you and holding out a small bouquet of flowers, your hand clutching your chest, and a gasp leaving your red stained lips.

"They're beautiful, Ken! Oh you shouldn't have! I'll just go get these into a vase, please come in." You spoke like an angel, and who was I to say no to an invitation into your home?

"I wanted to. I really do mean what I said last time, I've had my eye on you from you moved here, y/n, and you're different than those other girls, you're special, I can tell." You cheeks were flushed which meant that my charm was working. You'd be mine soon, and as much as I wanted to show you off to the world, I also wanted to hide you from it, so no one would dare to try and steal what's rightfully mine, or they'd end up like Clyde. Buried in the middle of fuck knows where.

"Had your eye on me? Not a little stalker are you, McCormick?" You joked, and I hoped it was a joke, you were laughing and so was I, so that was a good sign.

"Not at all! I mean, how could my eyes not go to you when you walk past me? I mean, look at you!" And slinging my arms round your hips would surely make you see that I was nothing but a pure gentleman.

"You're such a flirt, Kenny." God the way you looked at me, it was no surprise that to me that you'd stolen my heart, god the things I would do to you, the things I would do for you, oh they were criminal, but in this moment as I stood staring into your perfect e/c eyes, I couldn't care if my crimes caught up with me, I mean, getting away with it would be easy, trust me, I'm not that stupid.

Around two hours had passed and so far, our date seemed to be going perfectly, you were laughing at my jokes, I flirted, and you flirted right back, you'd told me about a huge spring break party at Tolken's house, you'd asked me to be your plus one, of course I'd gratefully accept, I needed to keep you safe, you even took my hand within your own when we were leaving the restaurant, my plan was working a charm, and you'd invited me in to your house for a quick night cap, no doubt I'd be staying the night.

And when you led me to your bedroom wearing nothing but some skimpy lingerie, I knew that your panties that were in my safe would be getting a much needed night off from being pressed against my face.

You were on top of me, grinding on me, fuck you were so needy, and my cock was growing by the second, I couldn't help but groan and pull your hips down against my own.

I'd swapped the positions, and now you lay beneath me, I'd left dozens of hickeys all over your neck, your breasts, your stomach, thighs, and now I was going to taste your sweet cunt again, god I couldn't wait, it had been too long from I'd tasted you, had my tongue inside you, claiming your insides, god I was starved, and I couldn't wait any longer, and just as I pressed a closed mouth kiss against your parted lips, your fucking phone rang.

"Ignore it. Don't answer." I ordered, my tongue lapping up your wetness, a moan coming from your lips as your phone started ringing again, and of course, being the kind person that you are, you answered.

And this couldn't have been a worse time, your face was worried, and you moved my head from where I wanted desperately to be for the past week, it was your mother.

Drug overdose, she was in hospital and you had to be there to take care of her, not that she ever did the same for you. No, you'd told me previously that our lives were similar in a lot of ways, and that's where my need to protect you came from. You were like a delicate flower awaiting to bloom, but others put you in the dark, stopped you ever from doing so, from ever reaching your full potential, but I was here now. I was going to care for you, I'd put you in the sun and give you all the love and support I could, the perfect partner, a soul mate some may say.

And as you hurried to pull your sweatpants and T-shirt on to your small frame, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, you gave me a hug, whispering sweet apologies, and I offered to come with you, which you declined. And I understood why, I hated people meeting my parents, seeing my sorry excuse of a home, fitted with built in meth lab in the garden. You were embarrassed, ashamed of your drug addict mother, and I felt that pain, I knew it personally. I was strong enough to deal with it, but you darling, you're too fragile, far too good to be feeling that way, and by god would I protect you from anything.

I'm so sorry to say this baby, your mother will never get clean, she's never been clean your entire life, it truly is a miracle that she's lasted this long. I'd be doing you and everyone else a favour. You'd told me this wasn't the first overdose she'd had, and every one made you feel the same way, like you were the parent, like you were at fault, you didn't keep an attentive enough eye on her, the pain you were feeling was soul destroying, not just for you, but for me too! How dare that woman who brought you into this world make you feel so awful, how dare she cause you pain and misery, if she died it would mean she couldn't cause any more of that, sure you'd be sad, but you'd realise in time that life was better without having to worry every time you left the house if you would come back to your mother, her skin blue and covered in her own vomit, which she choked on in her drug idled state.

And I would care for you, I'd be your shoulder to cry on, your support network, your lover and your boyfriend all tied into one, the whole package, you'd fall straight into my lap and I swear, I'd never ever let you go.

I'm sorry hunny, but your mother needs to be dealt with, and it would be easier than you'd think, one bad batch could wipe out hundreds of drug addicts, and besides, it's not as if I'd never used this method before. My parents died of an 'overdose', well, at least that's what the coroner's report said on the matter, Karen was put into my care, and the home was given to us, and life had been so much happier from I did my whole family a favour and took them out of the equation, and I know you will feel the same, in time at least.

As I drove you to the hospital you told me about your childhood. How you'd been in foster care, then your mother cleaned her act up and for a long time she was stable and in recovery, till she met some douchebag when you were ten, and she was back to using again, and your life had never been the same since.

When we pulled up outside the hospital, you hugged me tightly and kissed me twice, telling me that you'd text me later, and thanking me for the lovely evening, I assured you that this was to be the first of many of these delightful evenings, and even in the deepest depths of your pain, you still smiled at me.

I watched you till your figure disappeared inside the hospital, and I knew there and then what had to be done. I'm sorry baby, but your mother isn't good for you, she's not good for you, not good for us!

She had to go, and I had to be the one to kill her.

#kenny mccormick #kenny south park #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick smut #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle brovlofski #kyle south park #south park #stan south park #south park smut #south park x reader #south park boys #fanfic #you netflix #yandere

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slayerkitty · 6 months

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(Stages of) Grief and Loss in Last Twilight

So apparently I'm ready to meta this show right out of the gate! That's never happened before, lol. The last P'Aof show that aired was Moonlight Chicken and I was still learning about BL as a genre as well getting caught up on various BLs (I mean, I'm still getting caught up, but I'm way more well versed now, lol). It's exciting, actually getting to meta a P'Aof show.

@twig-tea was the first of the former Only Friends Ephemerality Squad to discuss Last Twilight with a focus on liminality. During our discussion on the characters and how liminality was affecting them, I mentioned that grief is liminal; @twig-tea replied with "When you’re in grief you’re not in the same space you were, and coming out the other side you’re different and the world feels different, and grief feels interminable, and you can’t feel the passing of time the same way."

That sentence, of course, got me thinking about the grieving process (because P'Aof seems to be once again using his art to work through his emotions surrounding loss; I remember that it was said he used Moonlight Chicken for this as well). I was further prompted by @waitmyturtles and their commentary on Mhok (Mork? I know Jimmy sanctioned Mork; have we settled on a spelling?) and how he is angry about and distanced from his sister's death.

Depending on where you look, there are 5-7 "stages" of grief. Per Medical News Today, they're listed as: Shock: This stage may involve numbed disbelief in response to news of a loss. It may serve as an emotional buffer to prevent someone from feeling overwhelmed. Denial: Denial may entail refuting the reality of the loss or any associated feelings. Once an individual accepts reality, they can move forward through the healing process. Anger: During this stage, an individual may direct their anger toward the person who died, doctors, family members, or even religious entities. It is important to address the anger. Bargaining: Bargaining involves thoughts such as “I will do anything if you take away the pain.” This stage may come at any point within the grieving process. It is frequently accompanied by guilt. Depression: At this stage, a person may experience feelings of emptiness and intense sadness. They may also withdraw from daily activities and things they once enjoyed. Testing: Testing is the process of trying to find solutions that offer a means of dealing with loss. Someone may drift in and out of other grieving stages during this time. Acceptance: This is the final stage of the grieving process. Acceptance does not mean people feel OK about a loss. Rather, it means they realize the loss is their new reality. They understand that while life will not continue as it did before, it will go on. This stage may involve reorganizing roles and forming new relationships.

I wanted to give a closer examination of specifically Mhok and Day and where they're at in the grieving process at the start of the show, as they've both suffered tragic, massive (albeit entirely different) losses.

Mhok:

Mohk's losses are huge but mostly affect only him. Prior to the start of the show, he had lost his parents (how they died and how long they've been gone isn't really mentioned but he and Rung don't seem too grief-stricken in the flashback to visiting them). He made a mistake, a fight went too far and he lost his freedom (so I'm a little unclear exactly how much time he spent in jail - was it the full year? or six months?), as well as presumably his home and his job.

Somewhere in the ensuing jail time, he lost his friends (assuming he was telling the truth to the guy who took his ankle monitor off) and it's implied he lost his girlfriend (I am fascinated by Mhok's relationship with his ex; with everything else he lost, he has managed to maintain a friendship with her - so much so that she has a boyfriend and it doesn't even phase him). The night Mhok is arrested, he loses his last remaining family member, his sister. Rung's death is clearly the thing he's struggling with the most - as @waitmyturtles said "There’s a lot of anger, a lot of regret, a lot of avoidance, a lot of dancing around the honest truth."

Mhok seems to have reached acceptance with most of the things he's lost - his parents, his job, his friends, his girlfriend - but he is struggling with his anger over his current situation (needing a job so he can, you know, have money to live - and also pay for his sister's car storage) as well as the anger he clearly feels toward his sister. Given how she died, Mhok says she's to blame.

Day:

Day's losses are completely different and affect everyone in his life, most notably his mother and his brother. While Mhok was just muddling through life before he lost everything, Day is at the top of the world. He's a champion badminton player, headed into an important match when the unthinkable happens - his vision goes blurry and he can't see clearly. Now, we don't get a lot of info up front about exactly what's wrong with Day's vision - one of the nurses at the hospital says he had some sort of car accident (where I'm assuming he would have hit his head?). As a result of his injury, Day has lost his career, but more importantly, he's lost control over his life.

His injury is in control now - every moment of every day is now centered around the fact that he can't see. Every interaction he has with his family has to do with his vision loss. What's interesting is that he seems to be fairly accepting of his injury, of the fact that he can't see. It's the way he's being treated as a result that is making him angry - his family is definitely made it so he has little to no agency and no self-sufficiency in his life. He's in a wheelchair so he can be pushed around the house (instead of just being able to learn where the furniture is and walk himself - though he is still getting over an ankle injury). His brother is giving up his entire life it seems to be Day's carer - something clearly neither of them want.

So we have two angry men with dealing with massive loss - and knowing P'Aof, we will go along on their journey acceptance and healing.

Tagging @waitmyturtles, @twig-tea, @ranchthoughts

If you'd like to be tagged in future metas, let me know and I'll add you!

#last twilight the series #bl meta #thai bl #have we got a new name yet?

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stolen-magpie · 3 months

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Sleep Tight

Garroth x reader sleep comfort

(Could be platonic or romantic depending on how you look at it)

warnings: none :D enjoy!

Far too awake to drift off into sleep, you wondered what you had done to deserve such a tireless night. You did your best to relax, really you did, but you slowly became more and more aware of the buzzing of the ceiling fan. And the longer you listened, the surer you were that it was the only thing stopping you from going to sleep. You got up to turn it off, and in the silence, you felt confident that the sweet relief of dreams would soon be on its way. But then it was the blankets that twisted around your legs uncomfortably, and the air that seemed to warm itself only to irritate you and the growing sense of dread that seemed to lodge itself in the tight spot between your heart and lung. So maybe, just maybe, it wasn't only the fan keeping you from sleeping.

Scrolling through your phone, pacing, staring at the darkened ceiling, stubbornly closing your eyes and laying still-- as if daring sleep to avoid you. Nothing worked. An hour passed by, and then another until that moment when you finally felt exhausted enough (and maybe lonely enough too) to disregard any guilt that you might experience waking up your roommate.

With this broken resolve you tiptoed down the stairs, carefully avoiding the second step which always made an awful noise. Laurance had complained on more than one occasion about you waking him up on your midnight ventures to the fridge. Skipping over Dante and Laurance's rooms, you found yourself in front of Garroths door. He had always said it was okay to wake him up if you ever needed to, and you did take him up on that offer occasionally. But you also often held back from doing so. You didn't want to annoy him. You hoped he wouldn't mind as you slipped into the room and quietly approached his bed.

"Garroth?" A small whisper into the night. But that was all it took to get a response from him. He was an extremely light sleeper, just like Laurance.

"What's wrong? Is something happening?" He sounded more alert than anyone should be this early in the morning.

"No, everything is fine, I just can't sleep." You were quick to sooth his worries. He always assumed the worst. The first time you woke him up like this, he had thought someone broke in. "Can I stay in here with you?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." The sleep was back in his voice now. Garroth fell against the bed and held open the covers for you. It wasn't even a moment of hesitation before you dove in. He waited until you situated yourself before wrapping his arm and the blanket around you. The blankets and his skin were warm against your body. He ran hotter than anyone else in the house, and you and the boys often took advantage of that by cuddling up next to him on cold nights. Garroth didn't mind, in fact, you thought he enjoyed being able to take care of you all. It made him feel needed.

His voice rumbled in your ear. "Are you alright? Anything you want to talk about?" You knew Laurance had nightmares sometimes and always went to Garroth for help. It made you feel even safer to know how much he was looking out for you all. You moved as close to him as you could. Being next to him was an almost instant relief for your restlessness.

"I don't know, I feel a little anxious and a little lonely but there isn't really a reason for it."

"Lonely?" A spike of concern shot through his voice.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why though."

He was quiet for a moment, as if thinking of the best way to take away all of your rotten feelings. Garroth was just like his mom in that regard, always wanting to fix problems. But he rarely actually knew how to solve them.

"How about tomorrow we all hang out, hmm? It's been a while since we all spent time together. We can do whatever you want. Would that make it any better?" Listening to his voice made you want to fall to sleep right then.

"That sounds perfect, thank you." You mumbled; you were already drifting off.

Smoothing your hair away from your face he asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Just wanna sleep."

A small chuckle, "Let's see if we can make that happen." Garroth hummed as he rubbed slow, calming circles on your back, sometimes letting his nails graze your skin. You could feel your body melt into the mattress as sleep sank in. And so, you fell asleep, feeling as safe and content as could be.

#aphmau #mystreet #garroth ro'meave #aphmau garroth #laurance zvahl #aphmau fandom #aphmau laurance #aphmau dante #fluff #comfort #sleep #aphblr

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zoeykallus · 1 year

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hi i hope you’re doing amazing ! i recently discovered your account and have been blessed to see such amazing work🤩

recently i had to get a spinal fusion surgery. which also means i have metal rods and screws in my back :( it’s been tough for sure and most days i’m fine but there are days where i can’t just stop thinking about everything that happened before my accident and how this will change how i do things in the future. i know this may seem like a long shot but i was wondering if you could do a little one shot with echo about post surgery and how supportive he would be during the recovery process and those hard days ? he really is my comfort character and i know he would just be so understanding😭

Aloha!

How are you doing by now? Wishing you a speedy recovery, strength and love to deal with this new situation 💚

Echo is indeed a perfect comfort character, especially for something like this, I assume. Let me see what I can do for you.

Echo x Reader One - Shot - By Your Side

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort/Reader Recovering From Surgery After Serious Injury/Accident

___________________

You slowly open your eyes, you are still hungover, everything feels strange and as if you are wrapped in absorbent cotton, at least for the moment. You feel dizzy, sleepy, the anesthesia hasn't really let you go yet. Blinking, you try to get used to the light and immediately realize that you don't like your surroundings, but you didn't expect that. Hospitals are rarely pretty to look at. "Finally awake, sleepyhead?" Echo's soft tone with his deep voice, immediately creeps under your skin, to your deepest core, like soothing balm. You want to say something, but your mouth is so dry that you barely get your lips apart. Not a second later, you see Echo's hand, a cup and a straw. "Drink slowly," he says gently, "The doctors say your stomach might rebel if you take in food and liquids too quickly." You are incredibly thirsty, but you force yourself to take small, careful sips. "That's it," Echo says with a satisfied smile. Finally, you can speak again. "You're here," you state, smiling at him. Echo raises his brows. "Of course I'm here, by your side. Where else would I be?" He puts the cup back down and gently clasps your hand with his. "How do you feel?" he wants to know. You think for a small moment before answering with a sigh, "Fine, I guess, considering the circumstances. Tired, groggy from the anesthesia, and I'm not very comfortable in hospitals in general, but I guess that's beside the point." You glance at an imaginary point on the opposite wall and drift off in thought for a moment as you feel Echo's hand apply gentle pressure to yours, and he asks, "What's wrong? What are you thinking about right now?"

You look at him thoughtfully and reply, "About my recovery, the healing process, the physical therapies needed, and how everything will change in the near future." "That worries you?" You nod tentatively. Echo smiles at you, unperturbed. "You don't have to go through this alone, you have me. Don't worry, I'll help you with everything, support you. It will all seem hard at first, but it'll go away in time, you'll see." And Echo keeps his promise. He is always there when you need him, whenever he can, he is by your side, at doctor's appointments, therapeutic measures and in everyday life. You never once hear him grumble or complain. The only times you see him upset is when you neglect yourself or want to go too far too fast. He reprimands you now and then, but he does it out of affection and genuine concern for you. Echo makes sure you are always taken care of, even when he can't be there himself. He calls regularly from the road to hear how you are doing and to make sure you are recovering well. Still, of course, you worry, fearing that all this might become too much for him or that he might see you with different eyes than before. One day, when he comes back from a mission, he goes straight to you, carrying shopping bags with ingredients for a delicious dinner. The moment he walks in the door and smiles at you, all the fears and doubts that plagued you in his absence vanish. The genuine joy on his face to see you again, tingles under your skin, every time.

"Did you miss me much?" he asks with a grin, kissing your forehead. "Hell of a lot," you say, beaming at him. Echo lifts his bags in the air and says, "I'll be in the kitchen making us a decent dinner, then we'll take some time just for us" "That sounds wonderful" Echo takes care of everything, you don't have to ask him for anything, he does all these things by himself. He has a sense of what you need and what needs to be done. He has a talent for calming you down, taking away your fears and making you relax, even in moments when you don't think it's possible. As you become thoughtful again over dinner, Echo gently but firmly tells you, "Love, look at me. I know what you've been through is scary and healing is exhausting, but there's no need for fear or doubt. You are still you, still the person I love, don't let your gloomy thoughts take away your joy for the future. And above all, enjoy the good food." He smirks at you, and you automatically smirk back. "What would I do without you?" you ask, amused. Echo laughs softly and says, "Eat much worse for sure."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

#echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #echo fanfic #echo fluff #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #echo bad batch #echo x fem reader #echo x female reader #echo x you #clone trooper echo #echo tbb #tbb echo #swtbb #star wars #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #echo oneshot #the bad batch

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imperial-agent · 7 months

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Hello! I just completed the 5some scene witb Halsin and Astarion and I dont really have anyone to comment this with I hope you dont mind me dropping here real quick to say [SPOILERS]

So... he just dissociates no matter what? I completed Astarion's quest and I could swear that meant he wouldnt dissociate in the scene. But I think what bothers me the most isnt even the dissociating itself but the lack of response from the Player Character. I just LET him?? I dont comfort him, I dont stop the whole thing in its tracks??

And its the only way to get Halsin's backstory?? Am I doing something wrong? I feel so conflicted about the whole thing. Opinions? Thanks for reading this far if you have, sorry for any inconvenience!

I don't claim to be the best source on Astarion lore or on his storyline consistencies/inconsistencies since we're like a bitter divorced couple, I can't talk about him without getting slightly annoyed. But,

I got that exact same scene (5some) after Astarion's story conclusion. To me it makes sense that he's still distant - we fixed his Cazador situation but we didnt fix his sexual abuse issue because he never brought up the trauma. I'm assuming you didnt romance Astarion ang got this scene? For me, a non-Astarionmancer it made sense, since he never told me about his intimacy issues in the first place. But if that happened to you, and you romanced him, then I can still understand him being distant in that moment. He's not that into sex with other people and you just asked him to perform in front of 4 others. I can see how he would default to an auto-pilot. But that's assuming you did romance him. If you didn't then there's not much to be surprised about. He's tired of performing seduction.

To me, it's not that big of a deal that the PlayerCharacter doesn't respond to catching Astarion drift away. Without romancing him and learning about his baggage PC at best can only assume that Astarion is not into sex due to his past of sleeping with his victims and that possibly bringing up bad memories. Since the narraror line about him being distant during the encounter was only a brief mention (narrator mentions PC and Astarion catching eyes for a moment, any further descriptions of his performative behaviour are a general description of the scene since nothing is visible, not necessarly describing what the PC is seeing).

What! I! Fully! Agree! With! You! Is how Halsin's mega traumatic backstory is only ever accessible through a hidden option (i wouldn't even call it a mission, just a random NPC conversation) in Act 3. That conversation could have been naturally implemented into the (currently bare-bone) Halsin romance route. This is why I'm still screaming about letting the players have access to Halsin as a companion in Act 1 already, so that he can go with the PC to the Underdark. That could lead to him having some flashbacks to his time there, and perhaps slipping in some titbits during idk the exploration of the wizard tower in the underdark and him seeing the chain mounted to a wall and that bringing up some nasty memories?? Like the story writes itself, it's all there but I'm guessing the devs had better things to do then flesh out their fanservice and fan demands. Like adding Halsin as a romance options SHOULD HAVE BEEN a post release thing !!!

My opinions are more or less summed up here. It's ass that an abuse victim such as Astarion gets all the special treatment and a catharsis while Halsin, who also went through a traumatic experience doesn't. He actually laughs it off. But that's okay, people cope differently. So why not have us explore his backstory more? Well, it's crunch of course. The devs had no time to put love and care into Halsin even tho him being a romance option/companion (so those conversations about his past wouldn't come up) wasn't even on their initial goal list, just something a few discord people suggested.

I feel like the writers had too much on their plates and too little time to make sure inconsistencies in character motivations/ reactions, backstories don't occur. But we should all be happy Astarion got all the attention he deserved. Oh, you're saying there are other companions in this game too? Since when?

#im still thinking about that graph of the amount of content asta got #compared to plot relevant characters like wyll or even laezel and shart #i do wish for halsin to be more than just a bear druid stereotype but in his current state he's just that #i completely disagree with people seeing more in him than what's shown in the game. it's one thing to HC and think of possibilities #it's somethjing else to face reality and admith yeah there's not a lot to that guy compared to other NPCs #i'd argue a silly goose such as minsc (if you've no clue who he is bc you havent played previous baldur's gates) is more fleshed out #than halsin ever was #damn i can say more about zevlor than i can about halsin #there's just not much there to begin with ;////////#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #halsin #astarion #yes i will remain highly critical of this game bc i really care about it!!!#personal #reply #//didnt proofread it fuck it we ball im stuck in traffic and its so bright i can barely see the screen anyways

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creature-wizard · 4 days

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The problem is, she says that across all cultures misogyny is part of the unconscious collective, I tried to tell her that the 15 cultures she knows aren't the majority, but she didn't listen. Also she says that the unconscious collective is shared by all human beings, like just one big clump of consciousness. I'm not too familiar with Jung's work but that sounds very far fetched

Okay so I'm gonna preface this with a "transphobes fuck off" because I know one of them is gonna find this post sooner or later.

So, I'd say that whatever form of collective unconscious exists is shared by social networks, in which memetic drift is a very real factor. The only thing you can really count on to be universal is stuff that's informed by universal human experience (for example, "water is wet").

Misogyny unfortunately exists in many places for many reasons, one of which being being the universal human capacity of devaluing, caricaturing, and objectifying people whose existences and experiences we don't fully understand. This is one of those problems that can be exacerbated by certain labor expectations, and it's easy to pigeonhole the people who are theoretically capable of bearing children (most of whom are women) into roles associated with childbearing and childrearing. Add in the fact that what's intrinsic nature vs. social construct is often far from intuitive, and you get people thinking that if somebody can theoretically bear children, then doing so is their "natural" role in society, and deviating from it is weird and wrong.

This of course is very very basic and there's zillions of other factors in play, too. Which brings us to another thing - misogyny exists in many places, but it doesn't always take the same form, because it's building off of different experiences and different worldviews. For example, within modern western capitalism, where people are explicitly or implicitly taught that life is all about maximizing those profits, misogyny can take the form of assuming that people theoretically capable of bearing children all subconsciously want to maximize the amount of children they can have. From here, people who are critically out of touch with actual human minds and hearts begin interpreting all kinds of behaviors as existing to maximize the amount of children born, and suddenly it's "oh my god, she's showing her ankles, she must want to fuck me and bear my spawn... but she will leave me as soon as she sees a Better Mate who can provide her with More Money To Optimally Raise Her Spawn and also Better Spawn In The Future."

(Now just to be clear, capitalism gives people mindworms in the other direction, too, with assumptions that anyone who can theoretically impregnate other people wants to cause as many pregnancies as possible. "Trans women are actually men trying to sneak into women's spaces to sexually assault them!" is ultimately an extension of this thinking. If you want to see a real example of a movement started by men who legitimately want to cause as many pregnancies as possible, go look at the Quiverfull movement.)

So yeah, misogyny is a very real problem in many different places, but to act like it's all a monolith is both incorrect and unhelpful. Misogyny has to be understood in the context of each culture it appears in, not just lumped together as if it's all some singular mass. Jung's collective unconscious is really just a terrible framework for this.

#answered #misogyny #collective unconscious #carl jung

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princeresnikov · 2 years

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it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 1

one. the scorpion: better a fruit fly than a clementine.

Chapter Summary: The Scorpion (Clementine) and The Prince board a train that will change their lives forever, and The Scorpion, at least, is non the wiser. The Prince makes sure her well trained but disheartened bodyguard knows her place, and Clementine really hates this goddamn family.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 2744 words. Lets GO baybee. I've been reading the novel and tried to stylise my writing more to match that because I find the Isaka's writing style really engaging to read. :) also this is kind of a slow burner, as much as a fic that follows the film can be i suppose. also i think The Prince's characterisation might lean a bit more towards her book counterpart, but there's also a reason she doesn't mask her intentions around clementine as often as others. this is mildly edited at best.

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. Chapter specific warnings will be added when necessary so please heed them. There will be smut in the future chapters.

Taglist: @venusthepirate [ always open, just message or comment! ]

-----

When Clementine boards the Shinkansen behind The Prince, she does so with a reverential, bowed head, always shadowing her charge only two steps behind.

"You're thinking awfully hard there, fruit fly," the Prince's tone is almost sing-song, marching through the aisle of the seventh cart to their seat. Of course she was able to pick up on Clementine's masked distraction. Clementine herself grimaces, at the tone, at the name, at her focus breaking.

"Going through dossiers in my head," she says frankly, sitting when directed to, smoothing the pleats of her skirt out against her thighs, eyes still trained down, impractical attire for her line of work, but appearances had always mattered more to The Prince, and hopefully there wouldn't be any acrobatics required today.

The Prince's own outfit is similar to Clementine's, skirt, blouse, though she had a sweater vest where Clementine wore a full sweater. The Prince was in pink, looking all kinds of girlish and innocent, while Clementine was in rich browns and oranges, as if she were able to blend into the wooden detailing and gold lighting of the first class cabin, or into the background of any scene she was party too, far more deliberate than one might assume. Both outfits were far more unassuming that either individual wearing them, for that exact reason. The only truly unique and practical item in Clementine's outfit was her expensive leather gloves, which served to house the two highly advanced prosthetics she required on each hand as she was missing both ring and pinkie fingers.

"Your job is simple, fruit fly, father hired you to keep an eye on me, and that's all you need to do," the Prince crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in her chair before she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Clementine's brow furrowed once more at the nickname, but kept her mouth shut. It had been a long while since she's been properly active in the field, and she'd forgotten how grating it was to be under The Prince's thumb.

The Shinkansen doesn't rumble to life like most other trains, it's take off is glass smooth, and Clementine barely feels a jolt as they finally head out from Tokyo.

"Why are you going through dossiers anyways?"

"Didn't bring a book, ma'am," Clementine tells her, peering out from her seat to scan the aisle, cautious where the Prince's similar movement had been strangely anticipatory.

"I could lend you one," the Prince somehow even managed to sound condescending with a simple offer. Clementine politely declined, and for a few moments they share a calm silence. The kid reads too much True Crime, and Clementine had enough stories of her own to not bother with the sensationalized, publicised stuff. Her mind instead drifts once more, to Cape Town, to Barcelona, to Santiago, to the past year and a half that she'd spent intelligence gathering all over the world. Others like her, hitmen, assassins, trained killers from all walks of life, she had hunted them, practically stalked them at her client's request, spending months gathering every scrap of information she could about them while living in the periphery of their lives. She never had to pull the trigger, no her employer had grander things in mind, things that Clementine need not be privy to to do her job. So she did, never afraid of what lengths she would have to go to in getting everything she needed. In New York -

"I should call you Clementine too," The Prince mused blithely. Clementine's nose scrunched almost involuntarily, "not a fan?" The Prince has always liked watching her reactions; Clementine is a fun toy for the bored teen, if only you knew how to push her buttons, "its even on your necklace; it'd be rude not to." There's the beginnings of a cruel smile at the edge of The Prince's lips, but Clementine composed herself. The dainty necklace around her neck, complete with a tiny, glass clementine, however, feels distinctly heavy.

"Whatever would suit you, ma'am."

"You're so passive," The Prince practically sulks, arms crossed, expression sour as she looks pointedly at the head rest in front of her. The seats around them are far emptier than Clementine had expected, but she's grateful to have relative privacy for this conversation.

"I'd prefer fruit fly," Clementine says carefully, "or cockroach -"

"But Clementine's so pretty," The Prince is clearly teasing. Clementine sits a little straighter but doesn't look up from her hands in her lap, "and you're not even a cockroach anymore."

"I was never a fruit fly, and yet," Clementine finally casts a less than amused look at the Prince, mouth set in a thin line. The Prince seems to be taking this all as one big joke, if the mirth alight in her eyes is any indication.

"Clementine," the Prince tried to school her expression into something more serious, tried to hide her smile when their eyes met, but it's not particularly effective.

"Yes, ma'am?" Clementine tried to remain as neutral as she was able, though The Prince still seemed to see the resignation in her, and was thrilled by it. For all the time Clementine had known her, she'd always known The Prince took great pleasure in inflicting cruelty on others as some sort of bizarre experiment about the nature of humanity.

"You really are tragically formal."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And tragically dull."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can you not call me that? You make me sound like my mother," and despite The Prince's casual tone, Clementine still frowns reflexively. They both know she said it to cause a reaction; the Prince prides herself on any power she can claim over others, even something as small as that.

Clementine hesitates for a long moment before she dips her head, if only to hide her eye roll.

"Your highness," she doesnt even fight her own rueful tone, but The Prince at least doesn't seem to mind.

"I know you're teasing, but I actually would prefer that," she offers. Clementine gives a non-committal hum, but does not see fit to respond further. At that, The Prince makes a face, propping her chin up on her hand and tapping her cheek with her index finger, as if analysing Clementine thoroughly. Clementine finally looks away from her charge and the malevolent gleam in her eyes, comfortable simply being observed in this moment.

"I can't believe he obsessed over you like he did," there's something cold in the Prince's voice. A muscle in Clementine's jaw twitched. "Was it something sexual?" The question startles the demure mercenary, though years of training mean the only outward display of this is the derisive way her lip curls.

"I don't think this is appropriate, ma'am," Clementine struggles to keep her tone passive. The Prince gives her no reprieve.

"Oh hardly," she laughs, "but I'm still asking. Don't be a prude, Clem," it almost sounds like they're friends, a stranger may mistake them as such. Glancing at The Prince shows the girl's body language to be open and easy, hands and shoulders relaxed, a trap to Clementine's expertly trained eye, who knew the teen far better than to trust her, "come on, I know how easy it is to manipulate someone when you know what they want, and sex is such a base desire," then, carefully, the Prince leans back in her seat, looking again to the empty headrest in front of her, "I've read your reports, I know how you operate." The Prince glances back over her shoulder, down the aisle, before settling further into her seat.

"I don't know why he was obsessed with me," Clementine answers slowly, "though, if I did have an idea about why, I still wouldn't share it with you, ma'am."

The Prince actually groans with frustration, head pushed back against her headrest as she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. Arms crossed over her chest, she looks markedly less relaxed than she had done moments ago. It's the little things in life that Clementine had had to find joy in, and now, the arrogant Prince's frustration is one she'd gladly enjoy. Clementine relaxes her own shoulders, lets the tension drop from her jaw as she smiles; it's a give and take of tension between them, and has been for as long as Clementine's known The Prince and her family, neither made happy from the others joy as much as their anguish.

"Dull," The Prince huffs petulantly, "can you go be dull elsewhere?"

"Is that an order?" Clementine was genuinely confused, which only seemed to irritate The Prince further. The young woman's face scrunches with some kind of put-upon frustration at the question. The Prince often lamented the predictability of the world around her, the way everyone always behaved as expected, but admitted that Clementine often caught her off guard in the most 'deeply uninspiring' way. Again, it was one of the small joys of the mercenary's life. Instead of beratting her bodyguard, however, The Prince sits up a little, but remains looking forward as she speaks.

"In a sense, yes; there's money on this train and I need you to find it for me," the teen says, voice dropping low so there was no chance of any of the few more remote passengers would hear her. Clementine outright scowled at this.

"Absolutely not," without hesitation, Clementine declined. This mission was humiliating and demeaning enough, posing as the tutor for 'The Prince', acting more like the girl's handmaiden, she was not going to encourage the girl's sense of entitlement any more than she could help.

"So quick to judge," The Prince admonished, shaking her head, "it's not like I'm going to keep it, I just want to make sure it's all there."

"Why don't I believe you?" Clementine narrowed her eyes at her charge.

"Because you're deeply paranoid, fruit fly, which is healthy in your line of work, I'll grant you that, but I promise for once I'm being genuine; that money will see its rightful owner," the Prince, for once, sounded mostly genuine, and Clementine sighed, "I think you should start looking in the third car." Considering how little Clementine wanted to remain in The Prince's presence, and The Prince's unfortunately well established, almost supernatural good luck, Clementine gracefully rises from her seat. The Prince smiled toothily at her, "at least you're predictably obedient, good for something I suppose."

"If I come back to any shenanigans -" Clementine hissed.

"Shenanigans? How old are you?" The Prince cut her off with disbelieving glee, which Clementine ignored.

"I'll knock your ass out myself so I can make sure you behave for the rest of the trip," the tick in Clementine's jaw is back at the sight of The Prince's smug little smile in the face of the threat.

"When you come back with the money you can make that judgement call," is all she said. Then holding up her own, little phone, The Prince's smile became wider, almost as if she were trying to convince Clementine of her innocence; it may have worked on someone less familiar with her, "I'll text if I need anything, I promise."

Clementine carefully smoothed her expression to something more neutral, and nodded, about to reply when her own phone starts ringing. The Prince cocks her head to the side, intrigued by the coincidence, and Clementine fishes the phone from her bag. It's The Prince's father, and she tells the teen as much.

"Tell him I'm having a wonderful time," she settles into her seat with a languid ease as Clementine rolls her eyes and takes off up the aisle while answering.

"Your daughter wanted me to pass on that she's having a wonderful time," Clementine tells him almost robotically, in lieu of a proper greeting.

"So you've both settled comfortably on the train?"

Away from The Prince, Clementine allowed herself to relax, tension in her shoulders easing, walking with a well earned confidence.

"It's well lit but not overbearing, everyone's suffocatingly helpful, the leather chairs are immaculate," Clementine rattles off with a detached kind of boredom now, "running an errand for The Prince now but we're in constant contact, not that there should be any problem."

"An errand?"

"A fetch quest for her royal highness; don't worry, she won't leave first class, that's why you've got me here," Clementine assures with a practiced warmth, gliding with ease down the aisles of the train, making sure to look over and catalogue as much detail as she could.

"Scorpion," he uses her code name with such malice, even as he'd bestowed it on her several years before. It's never gotten easier to hear from him, "if a single hair on her head so much as splits, you will no longer have your own, do I make myself clear."

Clementine bites her tongue as the irritation bubbles up venomously inside her.

"As crystal, sir," she mutters through her teeth, stopping at the baggage hold between the third and fourth cars. Peering through the window on the door, the economy seating is just as blue as the she'd just passed, and just as sparsely filled. It's a straight shot to the end of the car, to the baggage hold between cars two and three, and she'd rather start back there and work her way up. She thinks she sees someone catch a glimpse of her peering through the window, analysing the composition of the car, but she's trying desperately to not draw attention to herself, and so ducks back the little vanity area to finish her conversation.

"Nothing will happen," Clementine assures, drawing the curtain across and leaning against the wall, making sure not to catch sight of herself in the mirror. The blonde is new, it's been drawing attention all around Tokyo and it feels too ostentatious, but her boss insisted, and she really doesn't like to refuse him.

"Still, one must always plan for contingencies; unlucky that she insisted on such a public form of transport, lucky that you were available."

"Your wish is my command, sir," Clementine fiddled with her gloves, making sure they were secure, and the prosthetics they concealed were all at full capabilities.

"You have demonstrated your respect and loyalty these past few years, especially after rejecting my family's kind offer, and the incident that followed," as he speaks, Clementine stops fiddling; he often brings up the past in order to hold it over her head, this time felt distinctly different, "once you have safely escorted my daughter to her destination, your debt to me will be cleared," Clementine feels like her heart has stopped in her chest, "you will be free to take on freelance contracts wherever you wish, though you are more than welcome to work with myself and my family at your previous rate."

"You'll rescind the burn notice?" Oh, Clementine hopes he doesn't judge her for the hope in her voice. A pause follows, and a strangely amused chuckle.

"I'll rescind the burn notice," he agrees, "I will re-endorse you to my colleagues and contacts, and -" he pauses for effect, "while your direct payment will still be at your reduced rate, you will be able to secure the remaining amount that will meet your previous rate upon that very train."

In that instance, Clementine feels an almost sickening sense of joy and even fondness for The Prince several cars down. Foolish to think she wouldn't be in on this in some way; she's far too perceptive, even if her father hadn't clued her in she'd still have found out one way or another.

"There's money on this train?" Clementine murmurs, carefully peering out behind the curtain to make absolutely sure she was alone.

"Yes, in a briefcase, I believe my contact who has stored it on the train put a sticker on the handle of a train itself."

"Thank you, sir! I'll find it."

"Scorpion, do not forget the terms of this; this is your only chance." And he hangs up without even saying goodbye.

Clementine's barely containing her glee, she's overwhelming giddy in this moment of solitude, bouncing on her toes. It's the best conversation she's ever had with him, a far cry from the man who took four fingers from her as punishment years ago.

Perhaps she could have been kinder to The Prince, after all, without her help Clementine wouldn't have the first clue where to look for the cash. Finally, with the promise of freedom, she can go back to loving her work, to choosing it for herself, to reminding those in the circles she used to run in that she was still top of her game. There was a confidence now, one she hadn't felt in years.

Until she opens the third car's door.

#tangerine x oc #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine #bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train oc #tangerine bullet train x oc #the prince #the prince bullet train #bullet train 2022 #bullet train x reader #bullet train movie #bullet train fanfic

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deldeldel90 · 10 months

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it's two in the morning and there's thought i cannot keep away. okay, so, imagine, imagine fancer (fangirl x fencer).

(a tad bit of lorzanna sprinkled in here!)

there's her, the fangirl without a name. an unknown instigator of hurt and chaos, of calculated misunderstandings that are for one purpose, one boy she is wholly and horribly obsessed with. she crafts dolls and merch and she brings in money for the kingdom- she makes him happy, she'll assume, from afar, with her fellow devotees by her side. her name does not matter, has not mattered for a long time.

and there's Suzanna Winchester, who you can take everything from, rip it from her clenched hands ready to pounce. you can take it all, except her name. she'll fight you for it, with a lean figure and a gracefulness that manages to be both taught and innate because fencers are meant to be graceful, fencers are light and delicate and everything her brittle personality is not but she is what a fencer is. Somehow. she will not allow you to steal the title that has decided her future, it's the name on her jacket and the name that's called a prodigy. an expected legend. a Winchester.

they meet, some way or another. in the café from complaints, bumping into each other at the birthday bash, some way they always end up together. they've always been aware of each other's existence. and it's not good, mostly.

Suzanna considers the fangirl below her, considers her a blight with eyes that are far too inquisitive yet hold a hollowness to them, like forever considering options at the end of the world, and the girl is annoying. she's embarrassing, almost, with her proudness to display herself. what will her parents think? is a question that arises more than once, as she watches her and the rest of her gang.

The fangirl is wary of Suzanna at first, when she sees her paying too much attention to her fanclub, but is later soothed by the fact that she's smitten by Blaine's brother. in love with him, she can tell and the girl pictures an ally. a true ally, one she can stand besides, one she can fall asleep next to. one that will stay without a second meaning.

(the fangirl does not seek an ally, she knows, deep down, she seeks a friend- but friends are a dangerous term. a back-stabbing, bitchy, fake term. popular girls have friends, they throw birthday parties and dance to the harp and they're just shallow. they don't have the raw, putrid, eternal devotion like she does. they can't understand what it means to have a purpose to follow.)

it's upsetting, of course, that Suzanna spits so many horrible things about the prince. about the fangirl's beloved. but, it's preferable that way because Suzanna, with her unblemished skin and her crisp jackets and her hair that's the exact shade of the prettiest sky, is better off hating him. she could get him, if she wanted to, most definitely. could snag him with her fencing prowess, somehow, even if the effect would melt away sooner or later (because she's not his type; he likes softer girls, less competitive, nicer, a girl who'll appreciate him, not snarky like Suzanna can be. not clever like Suzanna is.)

Suzanna doesn't know what anything really means- why she waits outside the fangirl's door when she's ill, why her prospects drift slowly, steadily, why she kissed her before Lance's birthday bash.

what they have is many things, all at once. sweet strawberry chapstick and ramblings, concerning or otherwise, and a girl who's never had anybody who made her listen. it's company in the quiet times and the loud, Suzanna sticks by the fangirl every time an event comes up and she just has to be there, apparently. her schedule be damned.

(she always makes it, despite her dubiousness. despite how gritty it makes her feel that the fangirl will always love a man that will never love her back. will never even meet her, let alone like her. it's just bitter, uncomfortable, to think about, that's all. it's not like Suzanna actually cares that much.)

it's a disaster in the making. a rotting heart and a rotting brain. Suzanna hates the fundamentals about the girl but she somehow got attached, somehow began to get used to staying by her side. it became a comfort, almost, to relish in what they have.

and, what they have: it's all patchwork, sewed together pieces of their past that connect them. it's so much to one of them, and it's not important to the other, assuming it to only be a distraction, thinking it was not real because it's with a girl.

It'd be cheating, she told to a pigtailed ginger, like it was obvious, like it was just a joke, if it was a guy. this is Suzanna.

it's the frustration brewing inside of Suzanna because the fangirl is talented; she can make bracelets and dolls and knows how to iron words onto shirts. and Suzanna can't stop seeing it, everywhere and anyway.

she never realizes it, too prickly and too stubborn and seeing the fangirl as someone to be protected and indulged after a few moments of huffing, but she's always the one giving. always the one left with an aching, yearning heart that she doesn't understand.

she wants more, wants something legitimate and touchable. but she will never realize it.

the fangirl will never think it really matters, not until it's gone. maybe she'll never know what it meant, just that she liked having somebody love her. and she liked that person being Suzanna.

it brings a security to both of them. a curse to loneliness. kisses between meet 'n greets. ravings about the plaid kingdom's princes in the middle of the afternoon before Suzanna's practice.

maybe, Suzanna meets a worthy opponent with lavenders growing around her and she spends thirty minutes telling the fangirl all about it. maybe, she'll see Lorena show up, loud and there in her presence, sunshine clinging to her skin, and her heart will twist in her chest. she'll see Lance, and her heart will drop. fury, passion.

Lorena hugs her, in front of everybody, in front of Lance. Suzy, she says her name, excitement dripping off of every word, that was great, Suzy. Can you do it again, Suzy? Can we do it together?

Suzanna will share each story with the fangirl. each story, the fangirl will change the subject, will divert and divulge endlessly, will ask questions for topics she's never even inquired about before.

they'll look into the stars, the time late, the two hopelessly lost, and Suzanna will dirty her skirt in the grass, sitting next to the fangirl, who thinks about how the contrast between the white stars and the black night reminds her of piano keys.

a different while later, Suzanna will meet her for the last time in a while. they'll be a lot on her mind, thoughts that don't make any amount of sense to her.

but she, Suzanna Winchester- a name that's been held in admiration and jealousy and now is disgraced by her parents, will spend these precious moments with the nameless fangirl.

it's been different, recently. everything has been.

but this, this is the normalcy she needs right about now, even if there's a feral glint in the dark eyes she once knew. even if there's an empty place in her heart where the guarded care (not love, not love) for the girl usually swells until she's choking.

(even if she can't stop thinking about that brash, foolish princess with tears down her cheeks.)

she shakes the girl's hand and realizes how they've gotten tougher. "military, huh?" she asks, m and there's that tone in her voice she gets whenever she's insinuating about Lance.

and Suzanna's gaze flickers to her lips and she's conflicted. on her feelings. on her future.

on what this was all for.

who, this was all for.

"yeah," she agrees, fastly. she looks away. a Winchester at heart, she's always been, graceful and pristine. but now, now she stumbles during training and finds herself wondering.

she's deployed the next day. the fangirl gets rejected by the prince she never truly loved.

and war is incoming.

#cursed princess club #cpc suzanna #suzanna Winchester #blaine fangirl

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ninlilwinds · 2 years

Note

hello!!! can i request a scenario where kaeya and diluc(separately ofc)crush on a fem reader and confessing to her only for reader to tell them she likes girls and later they notice she and rosaria getting close and they kinda play the wingman role? i hope this makes sense and isn't a weird request😁 have a nice dayy

Character crushes on reader who likes different gender! (I had no idea how to title this???)

Sorry, this took so long to write I was on a bit of a break. I made this as story of sort instead of bullet point since it was only two characters. I hope you enjoy!!

Plot: Characters(Keaya and Diluc) crush on Fem!Reader who has a crush on someone else (Rosaria)

Warning: Not Proofread! Please let me know if there are any major mistakes.

P.S I am not very knowledgeable in same gender relationships so if i messed up somewhere (ex: relied too much on a stereotype or such) please let me know! I would love to expand my knowledge to be able to include all types of readers and relationships in my stories!

Kaeya

Kaeya had been observing you for quite a while now. He loved the way you carried yourself and what he thought was mere interest at first, he found to actually be attraction. I'm sure Kaeya is hit on by many many of the citizens of Monstadt. Whatever gender they may be. And because of that, he's confidence is pretty built when it comes to things like this.

Which is why he was confident when he came up to flirt with you. You thought it was amusing and played along for a bit, but when Kaeya asked, "Well, maybe we should talk about this over lunch." With a smirk, you laughed nervously.

"Well....could I bring Amber with me?" You smiled.

Was he not obvious enough??? "Well, I was hoping this could be more of a private lunch." He clarified.

"Between friends, it's best to have more don’t you think?" You deadpanned.

He stared for a second before recollecting the bits of pride and bravery he still had, "Friends?"

"Uhm...yeah." You bit your lip trying not to reject him straight out. He had been a nice friend since you two had started talking a few weeks ago, so you didn't want this to affect the reasons too much.

As much as you'd like to keep your attention on the conversation, you spotted Rosaria not too far off, returning from a mission most likely. Your eyes drifted to her while Kaeya was trying to explain a bit more of what his intentions was. But you couldn't bring your mind to concentrate.

Everything about Rosaria exuded confidence and elegance. You were bewitched by every movement she did. Kaeya slowly trailed off when he realized you weren't paying attention and followed your eyesight. When he saw Rosaria walking past and you Rosy cheeks and how your pupils dilate, he connected the pieces.

He didn't want to assume, so he thought it would be better to slide it under the table.

"She's kinda hot don't you agree?" He smirked.

Your blush reddened and then you drew your attention away reluctantly, "I-I mean she's....she's pretty yeah." You cleared your throat.

"Hmm ever talked with her?" He asked.

"Of course I have. She's pretty calm."

Kaeya nodded thinking about his options. He could either help you get with Rosaria, which he knew if he tried he could.....or he could keep you away from her (if he can't have you no one can!!).

Kaeya held back his sigh and tried to remain composed. After being so vulnerable for himself...and accepting his feelings they weren't returned. He would be the forever bachelor of Monstadt.

But if being with Rosaria would make you happy, then who was he to keep you from it.

"I have an idea." He voiced out loud.

You looked at him in curiosity, "that's never good is it."

"Ouch, (y/n). I've already had my heart broken." He placed a hand over his heart in a dramatic manner.

You laughed nervously, "S-sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. I know exactly how to get her alone." He winks and write something on a piece of paper, handing it folded to you, "At 10am tomorrow, I would like you to open that and go to the place marked."

And with that he left to speak with Rosaria.

He arrived at the gates of the church and spotted Rosaria going to ne of the rooms towards the back. Her face looked exhausted and he was sure she had just come back from something tiring and intense. He jogged up to catch up to her and waved, "Rosaria," he greeted.

"The infamous Kaeya, approaching me? To what do I owe this.....uhm pleasure."

"Hesitated at the pleasure hm? Well I have a mission tomorrow of high importance...but! I also promised someone a drinking challenge tonight. A certain bard. I can't go back on my word, so would you mind filling in for me tomorrow so I can wake up a bit later." He put his hands together in a begging position.

Rosaria looked unamused, "You dumping your responsibilities on me...to drink?"

Kaeya nodded enthusiastically, "Yep! Thanks for understanding. Here's the place. See you around." He handed the piece of paper to Rosaria and quickly sprinted off before she could reply.

Rosaria gripped her spear tightly and willed herself to not freeze Kaeya in place then smash him to pieces. She took a deep breath and decided she'd sleep until tomorrow.

You arrived at the spot that Kaeya had instructed, dressed in your adventurers clothes. Kaeya stared at you in shock, "Thank goodness I didn't expect much of you." He sighed, handing you a semi formal outfit, "after your done changing, wait down there." He showed you an area set up for a nice lunch. There were candles, different platters of food, petals of different flowers.

"Rosaria should be here shortly." He crossed his arms in thought, "Or I will have to take my leave to hunt her down."

You sighed quietly finally taking this in and trying to calm your nerves, "Thank you for this Kaeya...you didn't have to."

"But I did. Anything for a friend."

Rosaria approached the clearing with an unamused face, "Curse you Alberich."

Kaeya pushed you forward, "I'll leave you two alone."

And with that he turned, never to look back again. He knew it would be painful for a while, but he also knew that you'd be happier this way. He'd never force oyu to be in something to be unhappy in anyways.

And as for whether you and Rosaria got together or not? Well, Kaeya always completed his mission successfully.

Diluc

Diluc had always found his eyes straying to where you were seated whenever he worked at the tavern. Diluc had always been very reserved, so he never had any plans on telling you...at least not soon. But if he were to ever tell you anything, he had to know how to do it. What you liked, disliked, if oyu thought something was cliché or cringey.

So he willed his courage to walk up to you and ask.

He set down a drink he mad especially for you judging on what you had often ordered at the tavern. You thanked him and he asked if he could join you for a bit.

He himself had a non-alcoholic beverage, so you wouldn’t be drinking alone, "You come here quiet often." He noted.

"Yeah, always nice to wind down after a long day." You said. Lies. You knew Rosaria would come here often around this time so you always looked forward to seeing her (in a non-creepy way-), but you weren't going to admit your crush to master Diluc...!!

"You're often alone. Why don't you come to the stools so we could talk more often." He said.

You smiled with a nod, "sure thing." You stood and walked to the stools.

Rosaria would often sit there while she waited for her drinks before going upstairs and drinking it in solitude, and she hadn't come there yet so maybe you'd have a chance to talk with her.

Rosaria entered shortly after you sat down and ordered her usual. Diluc began to make it and you fumbled with your clothes, trying to find the words to say. When you finally had a sentence you thought was kinda cool and a good conversation starter you turned...only to find that she was gone.

Diluc raised an eyebrow at your wide open mouth and then smiled a little in amusement, "Are you looking for someone?"

You shook your head quickly and turned back to the drink o the counter, "Nope...."

"Say would you like to join me for dinner someday?" He said quickly. It was now or never.

You tensed a little and then looked away from him, "I'm not really into that." You explained.

To say he wasn't shocked would be a lie. Diluc couldn’t help but stare at you for a long time as the information just delivered to him sink in.

What signs did he miss? From all the times he had observed you and tried to find your likes and dislikes...

Or maybe he had but he simply decided to ignore it. He knew you had interest in Rosaria, today had just confirmed it. And he knew of a way to get you both together....but should he?

Why should he go out of his way to help you? He wouldn't benefit. Not to mention, the sister from the church was very sketchy in herself. She drank, went around in revealing clothing and also seemed to carry out what the church wanted to swipe under the rug. You could be put in danger if you were around her for too much.

But you knew how to take care of yourself.....and you would be happier if you to it off your chest. Diluc certainly felt relief when he asked you out for dinner, despite the rejection.

But this wasn't his business anymore, whether you stayed with her or not was up to you. He simply needed to give you the little push you needed.

Diluc flipped a bottle up and then held the bottom out to you, "Would you like to learn this drink that is very popular with the ladies?" He glanced at Rosaria to signify more than the ladies it was a lady.

You blushed and then grabbed the bottle, "Well...sure."

You spent the next few days trying to perfect the drink, going every night to the bar and watching as Rosaria passed by you but Diluc stopping you, trying to teach you the exact proportions of the drink.

On the day you were both finally satisfied with the drink you had made, Diluc nodded and gave you the green light.

He had his usual stoic face. He wouldn't pretend to be happy for you, his attraction wouldn't go away that quickly. But, he was happy that you were fairly pleased with yourself.

Rosaria entered the bar and your breathing quickened, nerves picking up.

Diluc elbowed you gently, to remind you of all the times you had practiced and let you know that you had it.

You took a deep breath and then asked her if she was willing for an adventure today.

To which she answered, "surprise me."

You began to make your drink and then handed it to her. She took a sip and then nodded, "Impressive. I've seen you practice this often."

You were at a loss for words as you usually were when around Rosaria.

Diluc stepped in and opened the little trapdoor to lead out, "(Y/N), why don't you tell Rosaria how to make the drink. Maybe that way she could make it at home herself."

"Revealing your secret recipe, Master Diluc?" She swished the drink around with an amused face.

Dilic shook his head, "Oh that one doesn't belong to me. It was (Y/N)'s creation." He went back to wiping glassed and putting them away as you went around and headed with Rosaria upstairs to talk.

He'd need a small vacation after this...but he'd be ok. Seeing you smile from afar was enough for him.

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dongiovannaswife · 1 year

Text

reborn and rebuilt

Collab with @softlimefluff @sunshine-shitposts 💕💕

I'm so happy to have reached this point on this arc and see how every arc from past years has culminated on this!!

Arc's Masterlist.

CW: medical stuff, suggestive content (one scene), unreality, mentions of death.

***

Fugo’s bored: it's not like he wants something to happen because if it did he'd be the first responsible for such an incident. Maybe it's just the lack of change in his surroundings that's tiring him out… Unlike the others, he doesn't want to leave his spot and have someone else monitor the cameras, too caught up wanting to do his best for the Giovanna's.

Leaning on his elbow, his hand moves every now and then, making him lose sight of the multiple cameras —however, he stops once Kishibe Rohan comes in sight, Akashi before him: judging by the way Akashi’s gesturing, he can tell he’s going on detail about one of his stories.

How could he forget the time he confessed his… Bizarre life before being a stand user: He still couldn’t believe he used to be one of Oda Nobunaga’s men.

Sighing and leaning back on his chair, he takes one long sip from his coffee, looking around until he spots Paolo and Abel by the front doors. Rome’s Capo doesn’t look so well, leaning against the wall clutching a mug—their conversation comes through the earpiece, making him stop and listen, even if it goes against his morals.

“The thing is, have you noticed how many, if not all, cultures and religions mention the number twelve?” gesturing vaguely, Paolo counts down every example with his fingers, “Twelve apostles, twelve months, twelve constellations, the twelve labors of Hercules, the twelve Greek gods. Twelve. This started in October…”

Abel nods, finishing Paolo’s sentence. “...Twelve.”

Sighing, Fugo speaks up. “Abel, you should take a break. You too, Paolo. I’ll get West and Pietro there in a second.”

***

Akashi has been ranting for a while now, drifting from anecdotes to actual gossip—and suddenly, as if reminding himself of his initial motives, the short, pink-haired man looks back into Rohan's eyes. “So, Kishibe-sensei, you know I'm a stand user, right?”

Hands stuffed into his pockets, Rohan nods, brow furrowed, almost as if he feels insulted by the question. Pondering his reply for a second, the mangaka nods: “I assume everyone in this mansion is one. Giovanna wants powerful people around to protect his family.”

Akashi scoffs, resting a hand against his katana and nodding. “That's right, man's crazy. Don't tell him I said that though!!” Walking a few steps further, Akashi looks back at Kishibe-sensei with a smile. “By the way, let me tell you something.”

Rohan's brow furrows further —and though he's suddenly reminded of Josuke's comment on how he looks like The Grinch when he frowns, he still brushes it off, letting the swordsman carry on.

“First off,” Akashi starts, a soft and relaxed sway on his walk down the hall, like he's dancing and walking at once. “Have you ever heard of Oda Nobunaga?”

Rohan scoffs. “Of course. One of the three unifiers of Japan.”

Akashi laughs, wholeheartedly. “Then you're gonna shit yourself, man!!!” His expression turns serious, pausing in the hallway a moment. “I was one of his soldiers. My stand, No Plan B, has the ability to not let me die no matter what happens to me.” After letting the information sink in, Akashi’s grin soon returns. “Like the song says: I will survive, I will survive!~”

“You’d need that ability with everything that happened back then…” Rohan muses thoughtfully, glancing at the bedroom door, so close, yet so far away.

“Right?!? You wouldn’t even believe the kind of scrapes I got into back then… I’d be glad to tell you more stories if you want, sensei! Maybe you can use 'em as material for your manga, y’know??”

Holding in a breath, Rohan attempted to calm down. Even if Akashi would be a valuable asset, he didn’t like being told what to do by a stranger. “Perhaps some other–”

“So there we were, the whole field and mountains before us, only horses, our katanas, and–”

Standing there listening, Rohan knew it was going to be a while longer before he could make the few step walk into their guest room. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking of some semi-polite way to escape. Just as he was ready to interrupt, Akashi's phone rang, Fugo on the other side.

“You gonna be done any time soon, killer queen?? We still have assignments, you know.”

“Oh damn, what time is it??”

“Too long… Kishibe-sensei has been glancing at the door for the past 10 minutes, dude.”

Eyes widening, Akashi hangs up and bows low, uttering apologies and backing away slowly, then running out of the hallway. Shaking his head, Rohan finally gets to the door, walking inside and very quietly shutting the door again.

Breaking into a smile, he walks over, finding Ellie asleep in a mini bed and Ari napping on the couch. Just like at home. Pulling out his phone camera, he snaps a few pics of Ellie to remember the moment and walks over to Ari, kneeling and petting her head softly.

“Ari, baby??”

She wrinkles her nose gently, letting out a soft whine, and opens her eyes slightly, groggy and still sleepy. “Mmmmmgh???”

Rohan chuckles, laying his palm on her cheek. “Go back to sleep, just wanted you to know I’m here.”

“Mmmm.” Nodding slowly, Ari closes her eyes again, one hand still holding onto his. Kissing her knuckles softly, Rohan pulls his hand away and drapes Ari’s blanket back over her. They all had a long flight and none of them slept particularly well, so he didn’t blame her for needing more rest.

Brushing a thumb over her cheek, he stands, going to make sure Ellie is okay, watching over her quietly as he checks his email.

Spam. Spam. Interview request. Fanmail. Spam. Izumi–

He opens that one, reading over her latest editorial notes:

Rohan-sensei,

In reading the new chapters you sent me, I think the concept is good, but perhaps you could make the reasons for Myo’s quest more obvious? While we all love a mystery, I believe he needs more evident drive for exploring the Coralius Library. His character, while somewhat curious, should have a better reason for being there. Pulling plot points out of thin air is possible, but not the complex and expertly planned storytelling your readers have come to expect. Please revise and turn in new storyboards (at least for the next chapter) within a week.

-Kyoka Izumi

Swearing under his breath and rolling his eyes, Rohan sits down hard on the bed, flopping back onto the covers and racking his mind for ideas.

What more reason does Myo need than pure curiosity???

Looking over at the console table, he spies a fruit basket, left there by the Giovannas.

Of course. Food. Basic sustenance. Even if they’re in the underwater city, Myo and Sana still need to eat. Perhaps there’s a cafe inside or a cultural center… A tower with many vendors like one of the areas in Shibuya… What was it, sharelounge?

Sitting up once again, Rohan opens a new note on his phone and quickly types out the new scene ideas, setting, and pacing, noting that he’ll try to make time for sketches later in the evening or the next morning. Heaven’s Door pops out, reading over Rohan’s shoulder and already forming ideas, discussing the changes with him, then claps his hands over his mouth when the noise wakes Ellie and lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I’m so sorry, master, I forgot Ellie can see and hear stands.”

Rohan waves his hand, dismissing Heaven, and walks over to the small bed, leaning down to find Ellie’s chimera-san and bring it closer to her. She grabs it with a pout and sniffles, letting out little cries once again, still upset about being in an unfamiliar place.

“Heyyy.” Rohan smiles a little, reaching to soothe Ellie. “I know it’s a little scary, but you’re okay, Ellie. You’re safe.” Petting her hair gently, Rohan sings a quiet melody to her, getting her to settle a bit before she sits up, leaning up against the bars of the crib.

“Papa?”

“Hm??”

“Up?”

Sighing and looking over at Ari, he reaches down and pulls Eliana up and out of bed, whispering, “We have to be quiet because mama is sleeping.”

She nods in his arms, clutching her toy by its snake tail. “Quiet.”

Peering into the dim light of the room, Rohan whispers “Hearts on Fire?” and is immediately greeted by Ari’s stand, who recognizes Rohan’s call.

“Rohan? What can I do for you?”

“Can you make sure Ari knows we went for a walk if she wakes up? I don’t want her to worry about Ellie.”

Hearts nods, giving Rohan a gentle smile. “Thank you for thinking of us. I’ll make sure she knows.” Giving Ellie a gentle forehead kiss, Hearts returns to her user, leaving the dull hum of energy behind her, like the static on a CRT TV after it gets turned off.

“Diaper check first, kiddo.” Making sure she doesn’t need changed, Rohan grabs their jackets and shoes, setting Ellie on the edge of the bed to get her little boots on through wiggles and tiny giggles.

When she hops down with his support, Ellie grabs chimera-san with one hand, then holds Rohan’s hand with the other, hanging on tight as they walk out of the room and shut the door gently. Looking down the hallway, Rohan walks slowly to the door leading to outside, making sure Ellie has enough time to walk without tripping.

“Outside?” Ellie looks through the glass of the door, smushing her face onto the pane to get a better look. Rohan chuckles, nodding. ‘Yeah, outside. It’s later in the season, but there’s a nice garden back here. I think the boys have a play area too.”

“Boys?”

“Mhm. Dante and Jovi. Dan and JoJo. They’re your friends, but they’re not feeling well right now. As soon as they’re better you can all play together.”

Ellie nods solemnly, holding tighter to her dad’s hand as they open the door. An electronic alarm goes off for a second, before Fugo’s voice sounds from the nearby intercom.

“Go ahead, Kishibe. We’ve got you covered. If you need anything let us know.”

Pressing the button, Rohan responds. “Thank you, Fugo, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to tour the gardens and play a bit. Ellie was getting restless.”

“Understood. I’ll let Don Giovanna know where you are if he needs you.”

“My thanks again.”

The area is fenced off for everyone’s protection, so Rohan lets go of Ellie’s hand, letting her run a bit while he watches carefully, picking up her toy and tucking it inside his jacket when she drops it in her excitement over the gardens. The flowers are mostly gone, except for a patch of drooping sunflowers. Walking up to it and tilting her head, Ellie reaches out and plucks a few bright yellow petals before gasping.

“Papa???? Papa!!!!”

Walking over, Rohan looks down. “Something wrong???”

Ellie’s eyes are welling with tears. “Put back.”

“Put what back??”

“Flower!!! Put back…”

Rohan notices she’s trying to put the petals back where they came from to no avail, and kneels down, opening his hands and taking the petals from her. “When we pluck petals off of flowers, they don’t go back, Eliana.”

“Why??” Ellie frowns, not yet understanding.

Rohan considers the complicated version, of root structures and leaves and biology, but settles on, “when you pull them off, they get separated from the base. Once they’ve left, they can’t return. There’s nothing to hold them there anymore.”

Ellie looks at the petals in her papa’s hand and at the sunflower once more. Leaning forward, she kisses the other leaves that are still intact. “I'm sorry.”

Melting, Rohan takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures, even getting when Ellie finds a ladybug on the sunflower leaf, screaming happily as she points it out and lets it crawl over her hand.

When he gets a good shot, he texts it to a few people–Tomoko, Lena, Sunnie, and to his mom and Ari’s. Everyone loved getting Ellie updates; it was the one thing he could count on quelling family drama.

As soon as he slips his phone into his pocket, he feels a tug on his jacket, and sees Ellie pointing to a play area.

Scooping her up and letting Heaven help lift her onto his shoulders, Rohan walks to the play area, still covered with layers of crunchy leaves from fall weather.

“Down!!!” Ellie demands, kicking the backs of her boots onto Rohan’s jacket.

“Okay! Hang on, hang on!”

As soon as her boots meet ground, she’s running around and screaming, carefully climbing to the top of the slide. “Papa!!! Catchme!!” Flinging herself down the slide, giggling the whole way down, Rohan runs to wait at the bottom, grabbing her up as she comes to the end, laughing and giving her tummy raspberries as she squeals.

“Again!!!!”

Rohan sets her down and she repeats the process, sliding into his arms and giggling as he swings her around. Staying in his arms this time, she puts both her tiny palms on Rohan’s face, squishing his cheeks and singing “totoooorooo totorooo.” Joining in, Rohan sings the theme from My Neighbor Totoro as they walk around, looking at all the play equipment, until they find the swingset.

Slipping into the seat safe for smaller kids, Ellie grabs onto the chains, watching carefully as Rohan starts to swing her. Keeping it at a slower speed so she doesn’t fall out, Rohan watches as she looks down and investigates the new experience. She’s never been on a swing set yet and has huge eyes, hanging on tight as she goes swinging midair.

“I thought I’d find you back here~~”

“Mama!!!!” Ellie yells, seeing Ari walk towards them with a grin.

“I got a text from my mom about the picture and woke up. Hearts let me know you were here.”

Rohan smiles apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you… Er, text your mom and have her wake you?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I got some rest, I feel better. Besides, I’d rather be here with you two.”

Pulling Rohan into a kiss, Ari grins, holding his jacket collars. “Daisuki.”

“Dai–”

The world changes. For an instant, the matter around them bends and warps, distorting and blending in colors and lights —the ground underneath them feels like melting ice, almost like it dissolves into nothingness.

Rohan’s instincts kick in —reaching out, his arm quickly wraps around Ari’s shoulders as his hand reaches forward for Ellie, bringing her close too.

As everything around them keeps changing and matter stops looking like itself, Kishibe holds onto his family, faintly hearing their breathings and hearts: like his senses have been momentarily enhanced, adding to the intensity of the moment.

In the blink of an eye it stops. Suddenly he’s back in the Giovanna’s yard, his wife and daughter held in his arms tightly as they look around startled, small pants and furrowed brows. Unable to let go yet, his eyes make quick work around them, trying to identify anything that might mean harm: the smallest, tiny, most insignificant thing that might put them in danger.

And when he’s unable to find anything but the security cameras and the swings and slides around them, he looks down, feeling his own sweat clinging to his forehead and the way he can almost hear the air blowing softly around them.

Questions fill his mind as silence comes in, settling down between them as he pulls Ellie from the swing and lowers her to the ground.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” A deep voice cuts in, startling all of them and making Ellie hide behind her dad’s legs, tiny hands holding onto his pants and big eyes full of fear.

By the glass door stands Don Giovanna, lips tightly pressed in a line and a coffee mug held in his hand, his expression one of strange calm, like he’s trying to keep it together for the sake of everyone. To know how he got there, or how long he had been there when Rohan looked around was the last of his worries.

Clearing his throat, Rohan slowly lets go of Ari, making sure to stay closer to her as he picks Ellie up, cradling her head close to his chest through trembling hands —words seem foreign, a mix of curses and senseless, interrogative pronouns circling in his head until his lips part but nothing comes out. Like he’s lost his ability to speak.

Ari’s hand finds his arm and he relaxes, turning to her: her lips part and for a second he’s afraid of being unable to hear her voice one more time before the sweet melody of her voice reaches his ears and his brain interprets it as sound and language:

“What’s going on?”

Giorno sighs, forgetting about his coffee for a second as he holds the cup by the lid, turns around and gestures to them back in. Following him in silence, the Kishibe’s come inside, hearing the door lock back again.

“Are you okay?” someone asks, and Rohan barely recognizes the voice as Lena’s. As he sits on the couch with Ellie in his lap playing with chimera-san, Ari reaches out for his hand, rubbing a gentle, soothing thumb over the back of his hand, replying after taking a big breath in. “I guess so?”

Coming to join them, Giorno sits by his wife’s side, setting his mug on the coffee table before him with a small ‘clink’ sound. Leaning his elbows on his thighs, he leans over, green eyes scanning the family before him with ease, almost like he’s looking for something specific: stopping on Rohan, he stands up, reaches out and taps the mangaka’s cheek with his palm until he blinks and frowns, leaning back with a scowl. “Stop that.”

Sitting down, Giorno chuckles, shoulders tense. “Now that you’re back with us, Kishibe. Let me explain.'' As his eyes take on a darker shade and his voice a serious tone, Rohan leans back, rubbing Ellie’s back, who’s suddenly too busy toying around with Ares, who purrs and stays by Rohan’s feet, looking at the infant.

Putting Ellie down to let her bond with the maine coon, Rohan and Ari look back at the couple before them, though their eyes and attention remain mostly on Giorno.

“Stands can modify time and space during their awakening phase, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Both nod, slowly, and after sharing a look, their attention lays back on Passione’s boss.

“Dr. Louis thinks that, since we’re both born stand users and one of us has had a requiem stand for years now,” he makes a pause to gesture at himself, “The boys have a higher predisposition to stronger stands. Which means the stand fever should be more aggressive.”

“Which makes the whole reality collapse worse.” Lena adds softly, a hand rubbing over her belly as the other toys nervously with her ring, eyes drifting between Rohan and Ariel while she and her husband await a response.

Rohan frowns, hands reaching up to fix his headband even though it remains perfect —taking it off, his hair falls over his eyes for a second, messy green locks slicked back with a shaking hand as he lets the fabric rest around his neck. “Let me get this straight,” he says, pulling the headband up to rest around his forehead like it usually does, then fixing his hair up and into its usual hairstyle, “You’re saying Dante and Jovi… Their stands, I mean, are messing with the whole of reality? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Of course it is.” Lena says, low and calm, despite the fear buried in her eyes. “But… We have someone who has reassured us it won't cause any real, permanent damage.”

“Han,” Ari speaks up now, much gentler and calmer. “If they know nothing will happen, then we just need to be extra careful.” she looks on through kind eyes, expecting them to say anything else, though it never comes.

Silence settles in. Unnerving, full of anxiety: Lena’s wandering eyes and Giorno’s dark eyes give off a strange aura, almost like there was something left unsolved between them. Not an argument, that was evident, but something…

Sighing, Rohan leans in, imitating Giorno’s position. “Alright, Giovanna, Speak up. You two are thinking, no; you’re worried about something.”

Chuckling, Giorno shakes his head, looking down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing out of nowhere: there he confesses, question shaped and broken hearted: afraid. “Does ‘soul extraction’ ring any bells?”

Quieting down, Rohan looks down at the coffee table, staring into the mug for a second —there he notes the mug is full, like they had just come here before the incident happened and Giorno decided to check on them— before he looks back, this time in Lena’s direction. “Wire requiem.”

Ari gasps now, eyes falling on the baby bump. “Wire AND Gold Experience requiem.”

Nodding, Lena speaks up now, raspy and slow, full of fear. “If what she said is true, which is most likely, then Esme…”

Giorno finishes her sentence through gritted teeth, voice raspy and full of something that he can't name nor drown out. “She will be in so much pain when the time comes.”

Rohan hums, trying to say anything that might soothe them. “But that means she’ll be extraordinarily strong, doesn’t it?”

Giorno looks back, tense: his tone one of defeat. “If I can’t stand seeing the twins like this then I don’t know how it will feel when she’s the one in bed.” His eyes soften, pained. “Seeing your kid in pain feels like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest without you being able to do something to help them, because this sh—” taking a deep breath, he tries to finish his sentence. “This thing, the stand fever… It’s up to their system to survive or not.”

A sob breaks through, and Giorno looks back to Lena, who’s now hiding her face with both of her shaking hands. Leaning back, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer in an attempt to soothe her.

Looking up from her spot in the carpet by Ares' side, Ellie stands up and runs up to Lena's lap, where her small hands carefully lay and her big eyes look up to her with innocent worry. “Auntie Lena…” She holds up her toy, pushing it into Lena’s arms. “Here.”

Hugging onto Lena’s leg, Ellie lays her face on her Aunt’s thigh, holding on tight to comfort her. Lena looks down, eyes welling with tears at the little one’s kindness, petting her hair softly and holding the toy.

“S’okay to cry.” Ellie pats Lena’s leg once more and closes her eyes, laying there for another minute until everyone has calmed down.

“Why don’t we watch some Spy x Family and relax for a few minutes?” Rohan suggests, gesturing to the TV, trying to break the tension.

Lena nods, holding the toy back out to Ellie. “You’ll need this if we watch Miss Anya, right?”

Smiling, Ellie grabs the toy and takes Lena’s hand. “Come watch!!!” Tugging gently, she drags her Aunt to the couch, waiting for someone to put an episode on, kicking her legs over the edge of the couch and bouncing slightly.

“Is Anya your favorite?” Giorno asks, smiling over at Eliana and picking up the remote. She immediately lights up and nods over and over, giggling. “Anya!!! Anya!!!” She can say it better than the first time they watched together and Ari beams, remembering her “Ah-Ah.”

Leaning into Rohan and watching from the side, Ari tears up a little, whispering, “Rohan, she’s getting so big. When did she grow up so fast?”

He smiles and kisses Ari’s forehead, lingering there as the opening theme starts. “We’re lucky… So lucky… And she’s gonna be a stand user some day. But she’s strong. She’s already so curious and learning fast… I know she’ll make it through.”

Squeezing Ari’s hand, he pulls her close, watching as Ellie sits between Giorno and Lena, happily holding onto chimera-san and giggling as Loid puts on his bondman mask and competes to save “Princess Anya.” The room’s mood has completely changed, and while an air of uncertainty still lingers, the feeling is warmer now, worries forgotten for a few moments together.

As time flows, and a few episodes later, the tension in the room has dispersed completely, blending back into more logical thoughts and possible solutions, like Dr. Louis’ words about a way to slow down the awakening process, extra checkups and higher vitamins intake. Outside the weather pairs up, as the sun shines weakly between gray clouds and the wind toys and messes with the leaves of the trees in the yard.

The first to stand up is Giorno, who turns to Ari and Rohan with a small smile —one that shows just how grateful he is to have them around— and, laying his coat over Lena's sleeping form, the Don gestures upstairs, trying to say he's gonna check on the twins.

Walking around the couch, he pets Ellie's head, carefully not to hurt or distract her from the TV. Then, as he walks by Ari and Han, he leans over, whispering: “Giuseppe should be in the kitchen. Feel free to ask for anything.” Without waiting for a response, he keeps going, though a bit faster. Rushed.

Exchanging a puzzled look, Rohan mumbles out, “Do you think…?”

Looking back at the stairs, where Giorno's just disappeared, Ariel hums thoughtfully. “Dunno, maybe he just thought of something?”

Looking on, Rohan presses his lips together for a moment, focusing on the characters in the scene, “He seemed uncomfortable.”

Sighing, Ari imitates her husband without realizing, deep in thought for a second. “Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll talk about it later. There's a lot happening… He must be exhausted.”

“Right.”

***

Giorno's not sure how or why. But back there he could feel something —the arrow restlessly moving around like it did back when Wire Requiem awakened: paired up with that, the skin of his shoulder and scapula started to sting, the feeling reminiscent of that of a tattoo healing process.

But he's sure he doesn't have tattoos on his back. At least not for now.

Coming into their shared bedroom, his hands quickly reach back, grabbing the fabric at the back of his neck and pulling off his shirt, letting the fabric hang from one of the sleeves around his wrist, using a hand to hold the shirt close to his torso. Walking up to the bathroom, he stands before the mirror, taking a look at the tattoo on his chest. It looks fine —lines perfectly healed and the ink intact. Green eyes trail over his arm, skin clear and intact, too.

The itch comes back, stronger: it makes him turn sideways, peeking over his shoulder to take a look in the mirror.

His eyes land on the star-shaped birthmark between the top of his scapula and his shoulder. The color is the same, he notes, and as he runs a gentle fingertip over it, the sting becomes unbearable, makes him hiss through gritted teeth: despite that, he still touches again, making sure the texture hasn't changed, trying to see if there's something around it—tissue or rash—though nothing seems to have changed, except for the fact that it stings like hell.

Stopping to think for a second, his mind runs over the possible, momentarily, solution. Tapping it like he usually would do with an itchy tattoo is not an option: fabric doesn't exactly hurt. However, his skin feels hot, almost like it's upset.

Tapping on the faucet in the sink before him, his palm forms a cup, where he waits until a bit of water pools. Then, using his palm, he makes sure to tap gently in the zone, feeling the sting calm down for a bit until it disappears, leaving back the faint sensation of pain.

Should I tell Lena? She's gonna find out sooner or later… But lately she's been so sensitive. Maybe not. Maybe Rohan or Ariel could help, or… maybe Bocelli? He's a doctor, if anything he should be the first to know and let me know if there's something wrong with me. But right now doesn't feel like the right time. I want to see Dan and Jojo healthy again.

Sighing and reaching out, he makes quick work to dry his hand and wait until the few drops of water dry so he can put his shirt back on, and finally, leave towards the twins' bedroom.

Knocking on the door and coming in without expecting an answer, Giorno stands in the doorway, eyes overlooking the scenario before him.

Dr. Bocelli stands up from the desk, where he had been writing notes. “Son, we have great news.”

“Oh?” Eyes lighting up, he comes into the room, closing the door behind him. Once he's standing before the three doctors —Bocelli, Rebecca and Joshua— his hands entwine behind his back, waiting for them to speak up in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Dr. Rebecca Louis takes a seat by Bocelli's side, a small and professional smile lifting the corners of her lips. “We're starting to notice improvement on the treatment. The fever is finally coming down.”

Before Giorno can reply, Dr. Joshua López speaks up, relaxed now that his dear friend is there with him (after being told the Don was not going to hurt him). “If we keep going like this then we think they should be conscious and alert by evening.”

Nodding, Gio takes a quick look at the clock in the wall behind the team of medical professionals: 2:21 PM.

Looking back, he makes eye contact with every single one of them, “Six hours, then?"

Dr. Bocelli replies now, calmer —his voice tired, barely hiding the relief behind his words. “It's only a supposition. See,” gesturing at the sleeping boys, the old man keeps going, “Their expression has softened and they're actually sleeping and resting now. When fever is that high, the body works only to protect itself, especially the brain. Now that we've managed to get a hold on it, they should be able to adapt after their cells have mutated and settled down.”

Sighing, Giorno's lips slowly but surely turn up into a smile, the green of his eyes softening to a teal shade and his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”

Bocelli gestures vaguely, a grin spreading through his features. Warm, like a father would smile and comfort a pained son. “It's our duty, Giogio. Go tell your wife and friends, they must be so worried and exhausted.”

“I think I’ll call down and see if everyone can join us up here.”

Pulling out his phone, Giorno calls Rohan, inviting everyone up to the twins’ room for a status update. In a few minutes, everyone has gathered and Giorno repeats the same information told to him, while Ellie holds Ari’s hand and stares at the twins.

Walking towards them slowly, Ellie hops up onto the bed, crawling between Dante and Jovi and grabbing one hand from each of them. Leaning over, Ellie presses a gentle kiss to Jovi’s face, then Dante, and lays down, squeezing their hands. “S’ ok.”

Closing her eyes, Ellie rests quietly, still holding the twins’ hands and starts to fall asleep, comfortable between them.

The monitors that had been keeping track of the twins’ heart rate (which had been slightly elevated during the entire stand fever), finally even out and slow. Dr. Louis, who had been observing carefully, walks to the twins and feels their forehead, noting that their temperature has decreased even more.

In a whisper, she smiles up at Rohan and Ari and says, “We need to keep an eye on Ellie’s stand powers. I have a feeling she inherited a bit of both her parents’ skills.”

Lena raises an eyebrow, walking over as well. “She’s not…?”

“No.” Dr. Louis shakes her head. “Only early stages, but there’s faint traces of stand energy.”

Standing, she walks to the Kishibe’s. “Perhaps we can get a hold of a pendant for Eliana. We’ve been researching how to slow the stand awakening ever since my own daughter’s experience. There’s a special type of meteorite that seems to affect the body’s energy fields on the same wavelength as the stand virus. It’s not a permanent fix, but it would keep her from awakening too early.”

Rohan looks over at Ellie, sleeping next to the twins. “Please. We would be grateful.”

Ari speaks up next, “Our friend Sunnie at the Dallas SPW branch has a special interest in minerals and rocks. I’m sure she could help us find the right stone if you give us the information.”

“I’ll send it to you right now.”

Walking over to the desk, Dr. Louis boots up her laptop and searches her files before taking a screenshot and texting it to Ari’s cell phone. “There. Let me know what Sunnie finds.”

“Han, come with me?? Ellie will be safe up here with everyone watching her…”

Reluctantly, he leaves the room with her, going to join the call with Sunnie and Dio.

***

“Here.” Stopping before Giorno's studio, Akashi holds the door open. “The bosses gave me orders to stay in with you, if you don't mind.”

Shrugging, Rohan steps aside, letting Ari walk in first before he follows, taking a look around the studio: it's big and spacious, with the proper lighting and white walls barely noticeable due to the bookshelves all around. Taking a quick look, one can realize the books there go from history and economics to anatomy and philosophy. Almost like there's a bit of everything in there. The desk is clean, only a Justitia statue on the right.

Coming in last, Akashi hums, closing the door behind him. Hands inside his pockets, the swordsman sways from side to side as he walks, leaning beside the window on the left. “I take it you don't mind, then. Go on, I won't interrupt.”

“Thank you.” Sitting on the couch, Ari pulls her phone out, checking her connection and battery first as Rohan roams around, stopping once the manga collection comes into sight —a few Bleach volumes, followed by the Jujutsu Kaisen volumes up to the most recent… And there it was: Pink Dark Boy.

Reaching out, his fingers ghost over the first volume, nostalgia bringing back memories from those days when Pink Dark Boy was just starting to be a thing… Back when the idea of a family wasn't there yet, let alone a wife. Now his life had changed for the better and he couldn't be happier: if there was truly a benevolent god, then—

“Ah, yes.” Akashi's voice cuts through his inner monologue, making him snap from his daydream. “Don Giovanna's truly a fan of your work. Every time there's a new chapter he stops everything to read it and comments on it with the Donna.” Chuckling, the short pink-haired swordsman gestures around the manga collection Rohan's standing before. “They've been waiting for a fanbook, too.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Rohan stops and his smile stays there as Akashi keeps talking so fast he almost can't grasp everything he's saying;

“Which makes me think of that one anime movie that got lost in the 80's, ever heard of that? Man, it was so good, such a shame it didn't make it to the public!” hands on his hips, Akashi tilts his head aside, “I can't remember what it was called, but then again I've been through a lot of places and met a lot of people. That makes me think of the time I met Stan Lee and didn't even realize: so I was roaming through the streets, okay? Fresh out of a shower, and this man was waiting to cross the street—Wait, why don't you just read me, Kishibe-sensei?”

“Read you?” Frowning, Rohan takes a step forward, cautious. “How do you know about my stand?”

Akashi shrugs, his tone so natural it almost sounds like a weather forecast. “The Intelligence division makes us read a report before every mission: and if there are updates, we read about them too.”

Raising a finger, he stops Rohan from talking.

“No, Non, Nein: it's not me you should get mad at, that should be Fugo's fault. Actually, that should be Giovanna's fault, 'cause he's the boss and all that. Uhm, I think…” raising a finger to his lips, he taps against it twice, mumbling to himself. “I shouldn't have said that, if he finds out he's gonna kill me: but it's not like I'll stay dead so…” Letting his arms fall at each side of his body, Akashi finally shrugs, finishing his rant. “Yeah, man's crazy and I'm just doing my job… And I'm bored.”

Before Rohan can react or say anything else, Akashi's Cheshire cat smile disappears, replaced with pursed lips and dull eyes as his chin tilts up forward. “Your call's starting, Kishibe-sensei.”

“How…?”

Ari motions Rohan over, waiting as he pulls over the nearby ottoman and stares at the screen. Sunnie’s number is already in, the call ringing a few times before finally picking up, revealing a very pregnant Sunnie in the arms of her lover, Dio.

“Hi!!! Ari! Rohan-sensei!!!”

“Hello!” Ari waves, giving her a grin. “Sorry, did we wake you??”

Sunnie shook her head. “Nah, just lazy morning snuggles with D… Pretty sleepy this many months along with the kid.”

“Of course…” Ari smiles, watching them for a minute, then remembering the purpose of the call. “So we’re in Naples here with the Giovanna’s right now because the twins are going through the stand fever…”

Dio’s eyes go wide, staring intently at the screen. “Are they alright???”

Rohan leans over, nodding. “They will be. They’re doing much better than this morning.”

Reaching his arm back to rub over his Joestar birthmark, Dio winces, feeling the familiar sting that has been radiating off the mark since this morning. He hadn’t made any connection to the current situation until now.

“How… How is Giorno holding up?”

Ari seems surprised for a second, then purses her lips, holding Rohan’s hand tighter. “He’s doing his best. Trying to be strong for his family. But it’s… It’s hard for everyone, seeing the twins so sick.”

Dio nods, reaching for his wife’s hand as well. “I know it may not mean much yet, but. Please tell GioGio and Helena that we are thinking of them.”

Both Ari and Rohan nod, giving a small smile to the camera. “We will.”

Chuckling, Sunnie leans into Dio, closing her eyes as she holds the bump. “I assume this wasn’t just a social call? What’s up?”

Ari pulls up her phone, tapping into her and Sunnie’s messages. “I actually have something I need your help with. A rare mineral. I’m sending you the stats now.”

“Oooooh!!!” Sunnie bolts up at the mention of rocks and dives for her phone, eagerly poring over the image and documentation Ari had gotten from Dr. Louis.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it looks like cosmic honeycomb!!!” Sunnie shows the picture to Dio, then zooms in on the specifications. “Does this relate to the stand fever at all??”

Ari nods, closing her phone. “We need a pendant of some form for Eliana. Dr. Louis says that the structure and materials interact with the same wavelength as the stand virus. Because the stand virus comes from a rare meteorite, they’ve experimented with other meteorites’ influence on it. This particular one acts as a safety net, masking the stand user’s energy signature and slowing down the manifestation process.”

“That’s cool as fuck!!” Sunnie grins, setting her phone down on the bump and listening as Ari finishes.

“Yeah! It won’t stop the process completely, not that we’d want to, but it makes the stand awakening a bit easier. Dante and Jovi’s came on so suddenly that we didn’t have any warning. We don’t want that to happen to Ellie, if possible…”

“I’ll hunt around with some local collectors and see if they know where to get something like that. Imma text you when I know more… Anything else before we go?”

“Nah, that’s about it. You doing okay?”

Sunnie laughs, holding onto her stomach. “Yeah. I’m okay. This watermelon of a baby is wearing me out though, and we still have another month or more to go…”

“We’ve been there.” Ari smiles, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Get lots of rest and snacks and fresh air.”

Dio points towards the table, puffing out his chest. “I always have snacks covered, you need not worry about that.”

“You do, D.” Sunnie pats his arm reassuringly, kissing his cheek. “I can always count on you.”

“Do you…” Ari hesitates, grabbing the edge of her sweater. “Do you think you two and Giorno will get to meet sometime soon? I know the SPW Dallas incident was too soon to meet, but… Getting it over with might calm some of the tension for both parties. I hate to see both of you so anxious whenever the other is mentioned…”

“When the time is right.” Dio nods, tapping a clawed-finger on his thigh. “Perhaps after the child has arrived, we can make plans.”

“I understand.” Ari bites her lip this time, reaching a pinkie finger out for Rohan to hold. “I can promise Don Giovanna and his wife are amazing. They’re some of our closest friends, and even though the Don seems intimidating, especially when his stand is so powerful, they’re unlike anyone else on the planet. I think you would be really proud of your alternate universe’s son.”

Choking back emotion, Dio nods solemnly, pressing a hand to Sunnie’s stomach. “I do not doubt that, but I would like to welcome my own progeny into the world first, then make amends with the son fate has given me. One step at a time.”

Rohan sighs, looking up at Akashi. “I think we have to go soon, but thank you for sharing your time with us. And Ari means no harm or prying, I know. We all would be grateful if the various Speedwagon Foundations can work together.”

“Do not worry.” Dio lets out a small fanged grin. “I have more experience dealing with human emotions than in the past. Sunnie has been letting me view a show called ‘Bluey,’ and I have found the family dynamics and discussions most helpful.”

Rohan chuckles, shaking his head. “We haven’t watched that one yet, do you think Ellie would like it?”

Sunnie’s face immediately fills the tablet screen, leaning in, excited. “SHE WOULD LOVE IT, YOU HAVE TO WATCH BLUEY!!!!!”

“I’ll add it to our list!” Ari smiles, waving at the screen. “We’ll talk again soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah!!! I’ll get on the pendant right away.”

“Thank you. We really appreciate your hard work.”

“Nah. It’s fun for me. I love this kinda stuff.” Sunnie wiggles on the couch, excited to get hunting.

“Still, thanks…” A moment of silence passes, and Ari laughs, leaning forward. “Okay, we should probably hang up.”

“Probably. Who’s gonna say goodbye?” Sunnie laughs too, used to the neurodivergent urge to keep talking and never end the conversation.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Oh, wait! I have a post I need to send you, hang on!!” Ari grabs for her phone, scrolling through her dashboard.

“Okay, well, send it in a minute, I’m hanging up!!”

“OKAY, BYE, I LOVE YOU!!” Ari grins as the screen blinks out, returning to the home screen. Petting her hair gently, Rohan leans over and plants a kiss on Ari’s forehead. She hums, standing and pulling him up next to her. “Glad to see they’re doing okay.”

He nods, slipping an arm around her waist then glancing over at their chaperone. “Akashi?”

The pink-haired man glances up, his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Can you go update the Giovanna’s with the conversation? Ari and I are going back to the room for a bit.”

“Do you need an escort?”

Rohan shakes his head no, pulling out Heaven’s Door. “I have backup in case of emergencies.”

“Right, of course. I’ll go now and make sure they know the gist of everything.”

Ari walks forward, clasping one hand over the other, addressing Akashi. “Don’t hesitate to let us know if Ellie wakes up and needs something. We don’t want her to be too scared, even though she knows everyone pretty well.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kishibe. We’ll let you know.” Giving a small bow, Akashi slips out of the room, communicating with Fugo on his way back to the Giovannas’ room.

Ari and Rohan, meanwhile, step into the hall, navigating the mansion maze until they find their way back. Slipping into their room, the couple lays on the bed together, staring up at the ceiling fan as the cool air washes over them and Ari shivers.

“Rohan... Where do we even start from today?”

Rolling over, Rohan quietly sits up and puts one leg over his wife, straddling her hips and laying down onto her chest, his face gently smooshed onto her breasts and talking with a slightly muffled voice.

“There’s a lot to untangle… The new stand powers and just. The unknowns. The future.”

Rohan closes his eyes, planting himself face first into her chest until he needs air, then tilting his head back out with a gasp. Ari chuckles, petting his hair quietly and whispering to him.

“I think it’s worse sitting with this anxiety. Knowing we’ll pretty much be powerless over the process.”

Nodding, Rohan finds Ari’s hand and laces his fingers between hers. “If we both fought through the stand virus, then we know we’ve given Eliana her best chance. Hopefully we’ve transferred some genetic ability to adapt to the stand mutation when the time comes. She may be sensitive, just like her parents, but she’s also strong.”

Rohan leans up, making eye contact with Ari. “Neither of us would be here right now with manifested stands if we didn’t have some fighting spirit.”

Smiling gently, Ari pushes Rohan’s headband up and kisses his forehead, wrapping her arms around him and sighing deeply. “We can help guide her and make sure she’s healthy, but we can’t manifest a stand for her. That’s part of her own story to write.”

Scooting up a little, Rohan puts a hand on either side of Ari, as her hands still drape around his neck. “It’ll all work out.” He leans down, pulling a soft kiss from her, then kissing across her face–one cheek, then the other, and over her nose and eyes, taking his time. “We have all the time in the world right now…”

Smiling up at her husband, Ari pulls him closer, finding his lips again and slipping a hand into the back of his hair, dragging her nails though his undercut, making him break the kiss and inhale sharply.

“Ari–” Rohan’s voice comes out in a warning whisper, frozen in the moment.

“Yes?~” She has a mischievous glint in her gaze, teasing and toying with him, even after their serious moment.

Rohan sighs, giving in easily. “Just try to keep quiet~”

***

He’s been alive for a long, long time. He’s been and seen too much, has felt too much pain, both emotional and physical: his whole existence has consisted of traveling around the world, bored and alone, seeking something to cure his loneliness and the strange, bone-chilling question that keeps plaguing his mind.

Akashi does not remember his full name at all. He isn’t sure if his last name is actually Akashi, or if it had been one random name he had picked along the way. For decades, he had been roaming the world, learning and watching, lost until that day he had finally had enough and decided to lay down in Rome’s streets, where Abel had met him.

Abel Agreste, Rome’s Capo, had reassured him his boredom could be solved by Don Giovanna and his Passione, and though that was true, there was still an ounce of the feeling remaining, like he had become addicted to boredom like one would turn sadness into a necessity.

To him, emotions and vulnerability did not come easily, both from his backstory in the war and the culture and period he was born in and now from his reputation: but even then, a few persons knew about his doubts and worries: one of them, perhaps the most compassive and pure man he had ever met before, had always been open to listen to him: Bocelli Enzo, the man who had killed his son’s assassins and had gave up on his medical ethics, turned Passione’s doctor and probably the boss’ most closest thing to a father.

Bocelli had said his brain was damaged, both from the constant fights —where he didn’t care about hurting himself— and the psychological trauma his stand kept causing with the constant death and coming back to life loop to the point of causing something he had called dissociative amnesia.

To him, his only hope was Kishibe Rohan: ever since he had read about his abilities on that report, his hopes of finally knowing his identity had resurrected, though it seemed nothing he said about his past experiences arised the mangaka’s curiosity.

Then again, the situation wasn’t the best backdrop for getting his wish fulfilled. Maybe someday he could ask for a favor…

Knocking on the door to the twins’ bedroom, Akashi clears his throat up as he twists the doorknob, standing awkwardly on the doorframe for a second.

“Akashi?” Giorno calls from his spot on the couch by Jojo’s bed, “What’s wrong?”

Blinking twice, his smile comes back and though he notices Giorno’s knowing look, he still plays along, “First off, just saw Dio Brando and for fucks sake, you’re a carbon copy of him, but like, with green eyes,” walking forward, he takes his hands out his pockets, gesturing around vaguely as he starts to explain. “So, it seems like little Ellie will get a nice pendant to keep the stand fever controlled, or that’s what I understood from all that: keywords are meteorite and pendant. And again, boss,” taking a seat by Lena’s side, Akashi finishes with a: “You and Dio Brando look almost the same. But like, your sons look like you so that must be a family thing. Oh, and he sent his well wishes for the twins’ recovery.”

Nodding, Giorno brushes off the comments about his father, not knowing exactly how to reply or feel about them and, as he looks at the twins, his frown softens and he replies. “Got it, thank you.”

Taken aback by his response, Akashi slowly looks back at Lena, eyebrow arched and mouth agape.

“Be patient with him, ‘Kashi.” Lena whispers, leaning a bit to meet him. “That’s not something he can talk about yet.”

Nodding, Akashi brings his right hand up, imitating a zipper over his mouth as he closes it, leaning back into the couch.

Silence settles in, strange: the calm it brings feels unsettling, but still, the brief moment doesn’t last long before Giorno speaks up, soft and calm:

“We should probably get one for Esmeralda too, Lena.”

Rubbing at the bump, Lena nods, feeling a foot meet her touch —a warm smile spreads through her features, much calmer and at ease than before. “Agreed. We’ll talk about that once she’s born.”

“Well, my hunger was born first,” Standing up, Akashi swiftly cuts off the conversation, “I'm gonna go and ask Giuseppe for something, maybe some paella.” turning around and extending a hand out to Lena, he asks, “Want something, boss?”

Chuckling, Giorno gestures forward when Lena looks at him, his words warm and calm. “Go on, honey, you need to eat.”

Taking Akashi’s hand to stand up, Lena grins, returning the gesture. “I’ll go, but after I’m done you’ll have something too.”

“Okay, deal. Akashi, take care of her.”

Guiding her to the door, Akashi nods, “Yeah, yeah, I will!”

***

Coming into the kitchen, a high-pitched voice with a bit of an accent welcomes Akashi and Lena. “Good afternoon! How can I help you?”

Giuseppe De Niro, the occasional chef for the Giovanna family, a middle aged man with big brown eyes and dark hair kept up into a hair net grins from the other side of the kitchen as he covers a bowl with cling film, hands in his hips and a patient look as he waits.

“Giuseppe, Giuseppe, oh Giuseppe~” faking a pout, Akashi comes closer, retrieving a chair from the bar and holding a hand out for Lena to sit down. Then, as she makes herself comfortable and he's sitting before the chef, his hands rub at his stomach. “I really want some paella, think you can do it?”

“Of course,” nodding, Giuseppe turns to Lena, a much gentler look thrown her way. “What about you, Donna? Is there something you're craving specifically or…?”

“Mhm,” leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, she tilts her head aside, thinking for a second: “I'll have the same.”

“Sure. It should be ready in twenty, if that's okay?”

“No worries,” gesturing with her free hand, Lena gives him a warm smile, watching him turn around and start working. By her side Akashi has quietened, eyes glued to the granite bar.

Passing an arm behind him, her palm rubs at his back in circles, whispering; “What is it?”

“Uh?” Looking back, his pink orbs drift between her eyes frantically before his shoulders slump down and he sighs heavily, smacking his head against the countertop, voice muffled when he speaks up. “I wanted to ask, I really did, but… I don't think this is the right time.”

Rubbing at his back again, she looks forward, watching Giuseppe work for a while. Her lips part, and by the time she looks back, Akashi's already sitting straight with the skin of his forehead red and his eyes wide open, like a wild cat.

“Akashi,” she starts, “Wire can read the memories of your soul, but only when you've passed away, which is something you can't do… But, uhm, what I'm trying to say is I would help if I could. But I can't.”

Sighing, Akashi rubs at his eyes. “I know, that's why Kishibe's the only option. But in this situation, with reality collapsing and all that, it's dangerous to try. Even I know that.”

Looking forward and accepting the glass of water Giuseppe offers to each of them, Lena replies. “But this won't be the last time you'll see him. Besides, your problem was caused by your stand: the Foundation would gladly help. I'm sure I can make a request for the Morioh branch.”

Setting his empty glass down, Akashi looks back with eyes full of hope and his usual smile back: “Okay, but promise I won't be an experiment like that time when—”

“Yep.” she cuts him off, gesturing for him to stop, “That's not happening again.”

“Eureka!” throwing his arms up, Akashi grins, pointing at Giuseppe, who's just turning around to set both dishes before them. “Giuseppe, celebrate with me!”

“Uhm,” imitating him, Giuseppe mirrors his words and movements, though much less enthusiastic, since he didn't understand the context. “Eureka?”

“Yeah!” taking a napkin and turning to Lena, Akashi nods twice, excited. “Thank you, boss! And Giuseppe,” turning to him, he bows, taking the first bite of his food and talking with his mouth full. “This better be good.”

Laughing, Giuseppe nods, turning back to start with another recipe, “I can assure you it will. Anything else I can do?”

“Yeah,” Lena replies now, “Could you send some food to Fugo and the rest?”

“Sure!” turning to her again, Giuseppe leans on the bar, setting his chin on his hand. “Any special menu?”

Humming, she toys with the fork in her hand, “Lasagna and gelato? Everyone's working hard so… They deserve it.”

Nodding, Giuseppe takes a pen and a small notebook from his apron, quickly writing down. Then, he looks back, eyebrows arched. “What about the Don?”

Cheeks warming up, she lights up considerably at the mention of her husband. “He'll come after we're done, he's with the boys.”

“Is that so?” leaning back and leaving the notebook aside, Giuseppe twirls the pen with the fingers of his right hand, “I'm looking at him right now, though.”

Immediately looking back and finding Giorno under the doorway, Akashi gasps and gulps down, hitting his chest so the feeling of food restricting his airway goes away —hand reaching out to Lena, then pointing at Giorno dramatically.

Turning around, she gasps, cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he walks into the kitchen and looking at Giuseppe, he says: “I'll have spaghetti alla carbonara,” then, as he comes closer, his hand cups her face, thumb rubbing over her cheek before he sits down by her side, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Who's with the kids?” she asks, setting her fork down.

Accepting the glass of water that Giuseppe sets before him, Gio takes a small sip. “The medical team and Vivianne. Ellie's still asleep and the twins' heart rate has come back to normal.”

Sighing relieved, Lena nods, finally calm enough to start eating. By her side Akashi leans over the bar, looking at Giorno.

“So, Giogio. I know I said it before, but Brando really seemed… Interested, worried, or just… With the intention to be present in your life, when Mrs. Kishibe mentioned the boys' fever. I think he means well.”

Eyes softening and shoulders relaxing, Giorno meets Akashi's eyes. “I know. But, as much as I want to meet him… It seems like the time will not come soon.”

Shaking his head, the pink-haired swordsman presses his lips into a fine line and when he speaks up, his voice has a certain nostalgic tone, “The time will come when it has to. Don't rush it. Just wanted to let you know that this Dio… Is much different than the one described in reports and anecdotes.”

Giorno's mind drifts to Jotaro Kujo —the troubled and uncomfortable relationship with him, tense and always weird. He could only wonder if he knew about the Dallas Board from the start. No, he could wonder if they got along or if they were still trying to fight. But again, it looked like there was someone keeping him from doing all the things Prime Dio would.

And that was probably Sunnie.

“Earth calling Giorno, earth calling Giorno!”

Blinking, he looks on, eyes landing on both Akashi and Lena's worried looks as the swordsman sways his arm from side to side, grinning when he finally seems conscious.

“Your food's ready, boss! Eat before you pass out, I'll go back to Abel.” standing from his chair, Akashi bows in Giuseppe's direction as he leaves, hand resting atop his katana handle.

“Thank you, 'Kashi!” Lena shouts, watching him go. Turning to her husband, she chuckles, noticing the sauce left on the corner of his lips. Taking a napkin, she wipes his lips carefully while he chuckles, letting her help.

“I got you, baby.”

Food goes by between sweet conversations and bright smiles. Soon, both go back to the twins' room, making sure everyone's eating.

As they sit down, Giorno's eyes drift to the clock in the wall: 6:16 PM. Hopeful, he looks on, knowing the wait is almost over.

A faint whimper makes him look back, eyes immediately noticing Eliana rolling to the side and slowly, her small aqua green eyes open up, finding the world before her.

Brushing her hand across his arm, Lena stands up before he can, approaching Ellie with a warm smile and slow steps, “Hey, baby. Are you hungry?”

Sitting up, Ellie looks around her and, unable to find her parents, her eyes fill with tears and she whimpers, looking back at her aunt her voice comes out tiny and heavy with sleep. “Mama? Papa?”

“Hey, 's okay.” Sitting down on the bed, Lena reaches out for Ellie, helping her sit with her. “They're here.” a gentle hand combs through her hair, trying to make it look somehow better and letting Ellie grasp her hand.

“Where?” the little girl asks, looking around the room frantically, still coming out of her sleepy state and disoriented. As someone stands up from one of the couches, Ellie looks at them intently until he comes near and his face seems familiar.

“Hey,” Westwood whispers, kneeling before her. “I heard there's a princess waiting to be taken back to her castle?”

Ellie looks back, finally recognizing Lena and the rest of the team, tears still there, though her fears long forgotten. “Auntie!”

“Yeah!” Grinning, Lena turns to West, then back at Ellie, “He's here to take you to mama and papa! Like a knight!”

Intrigued, Ellie scoots off the bed and hops down, slowly approaching West. “Knight?”

Following along, Westwood takes his mask off, bowing down with an exaggerated gesture of his hand. “Princess Kishibe, if I may take you to King Kishibe's castle?”

Ellie finally plays along, jumping excitedly and bowing too. Westwood stands up, offering his hand to her, and exchanges one last look with Giorno and Lena, making sure to shield Ellie with his stand, then guide her out of the room.

“Princess Kishibe, the road ahead holds multiple dangers, may I carry you there?”

“Mhm! Up!" Extending her arms out, chimera-san still in tow, Westwood's chest swells with happiness as he takes her into his arms, fixing her hair and outfit the best he can and, as he walks down the hall, he makes sure to wipe her tears and improve her mood to the best.

Stopping before the Kishibe’s door, he knocks twice, feeling his face warm up as soon as Rohan swings the door open, headband around his neck and hair disheveled.

“Ellie!” he says, surprised. Reaching out, Ellie quickly reaches back to him, leaning forward and jumping into her father’s arms.

“King Kishibe,” Westwood starts, ignoring Rohan's confused look, “Now that I've brought the princess back, I'll keep working.” Turning around, he almost runs back, hearing Ellie's laughter.

Closing the door behind him, Rohan grins, setting her down. “Well then, princess? The queen must be waiting for you.”

Already sitting up in bed, Ari reaches out, helping Ellie climb up onto the covers. “Princess, huh?~”

“Yes!! Knight helped!”

“Well then,” joining them, Rohan shares a knowing look with Ari, “We should make sure to properly thank him later.”

8:18 PM. Giovanna household.

“This is not a drill, everyone who has an earpiece must take it off and turn the volume up in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight.—” The sudden message startles those with an earpiece: la unità and la squadra’s members freeze in their spots, doing as told right after: there, Fugo’s voice comes up after the robotical voice from before, his tone neutral despite the scary message.

“We’re experiencing an unknown threat.” He stops, as if trying to find a logical explanation to his words. “Time has stopped. Please seek immediate shelter. The Kishibe’s must be protected. All Capos close to the twins’ room must arrive and follow Don Giovanna’s instructions. Do not leave the property before we know what’s happening.”

The message ends there, leaving behind confused looks and pursed lips: trembling hands and fear creeping up spines and nervous systems.

“How does he even know?” Paolo mumbles, standing up from the grass in the yard, “If time really stops then we wouldn’t even be able to do anything. Hell,” taking his mask from his pocket, the scientist toys with the fabric, “Motion wouldn’t even be possible.” putting it on, he fixes the fabric around his mouth and nose until he’s sure it’s perfect. “But it’s not like stands care that much about physics.”

Coming into the mansion, the first thing Paolo sees is pure chaos —Vivianne and the other members of la unita rushing upstairs, Fugo coming out of his office with his laptop, Abel and Akashi preparing their weapons in the corner and last, Vittorio at the top of the stairs, hands behind his back.

The latter, as soon as he notices Paolo, points to his right. “Paolo, with the Kishibes. Someone will join you soon. You know our orders, right?”

Jogging upstairs (having to take it slower or straight out stop to prevent accidents) Paolo finally reaches Vittorio's side, stopping only to reply in a whisper. “No one can ignore the magnitude of this event, Vittorio. It's bizarre.”

Watching him turn down the hall, Vittorio looks forward, mumbling to himself. “That's the perfect word to describe the situation.” Giving one last look to his team and husband, he leaves to take his position outside of Giorno’s studio.

Soon, some of the members from la unità and la squadra stand around the twins' room, some around the mansion and others in the halls —Fugo has moved to Giorno's studio, Abel and Akashi stand by the main doors, katana and gun in hand ready to attack, defend… Or die.

In the room, nothing has changed, the medical team running around the room performing tests and monitoring the boys as their vitals even out to normal. By the toddlers' sides, both their parents sit, waiting and hoping.

Someone speaks up and the sound only has a few of them turning, anxious:

“Donna, shouldn't we keep you company somewhere else? What if…” Rubbing his hands together, Pietro looks down at them, staring at his wedding ring. “If something happens and we have to fight… Then we should prioritize you, because I suppose you shouldn't fight in your—”

“Mommy?”

Giorno's look makes everyone quiet down as the tension grows and the mystery remains unsolved. Still, Lena looks back at Jovi, melting at the sight of his grabby hands and reaching out to help him stand up, her eyes follow every movement as the boy holds onto her shoulders —soft pink cheeks and sleepy green eyes, hair (that had lost its curls months before, remaining as wavy strands now) disheveled and skin finally back to its fair tone.

“What's wrong, baby?” Mumbling her question, Lena keeps her hand on Jovi's back, watching through calm and loving eyes as the toddler fiddles with one of her curls, shy and tired still, seeming to struggle to find the proper words.

The boy looks back, letting go of her hair and instead, he blinks slowly, mumbling his question: “Cuddles, mommy?”

With a hum, Lena makes him turn sideways and sit on her lap, wrapping an arm around his back and using the other to keep his IV attached to the back of his hand, passing the IV tubing above her shoulder. Cradling his head close to her chest, she starts humming a tone, slowly rocking back and forth, feeling his tiny hands hold on the fabric of her dress.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead and using the momentum to look around the room, Lena nods in Giorno's direction. His tense shoulders relax and he stands up slowly, hands shaking but still he walks up closer, sitting before his wife and younger son. His left hand reaches out and his fingers run through his hair. The boy sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that shows just how comfortable and warm he is –safe in his mother's arms with his father watching over him and his brother.

Sighing, Gio stands up, turning to Dante and, taking him in his arms, he makes sure to cradle his head close to his chest —a habit both had ever since the first time he held them. Almost like they always sought his heart in order to sleep peacefully. As Bocelli makes sure the IV remains in its place, Dante stirs awake, blinking up at Giorno and, through his exhaustion, he smiles.

The action makes Giorno chuckle, caressing the toddler’s cheek with the back of his hand, “Hey, buddy. Missed you too.”

Dante hums, hand unconsciously grabbing into Giorno’s coat: voice tiny and sleepy eyes, he asks: “Daddy?”

“Hmm?” Sitting besides Lena, Gio exchanges a quick look with her, then looks back at Dante, who’s observing his twin intently, as if trying to make him look back.

Dante looks back into Giorno’s eyes, his own full of hope and innocence, the kind only a child could ever show and then he asks: “Piano man?”

Jovi stirs awake too, almost as if he hadn’t been asleep and blinking to try and get the tiredness off his eyes, he still tries to join the conversation, eyes lighting up upon the mention of the song that has become his and Dante’s favorite ever since they heard it on his father’s office while Giorno was signing a few documents.

Surprised, it takes a moment for Giorno to react —looking back at Lena, she’s still looking between them, worried and scared, maybe thinking the worst, the possibilities of any kind of brain damage during the long episode of fever seem to come to her mind. Still, he retrieves his phone from his pocket, finally catching her attention. There, and even if his hands shake and everyone’s looking at them, he opens the app music. Scrolling through his library, his mouth runs dry and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Every now and then, the boys look around the room, slowly waking up and recognizing those around them.

Sighing, the realization that he could just browse through artist, album or song title strikes him and, feeling his cheeks burn, he taps on the search bar icon atop the app menu, typing the first letters of the song title until it pops up, displaying song name, album, artist and year.

Piano Man. Piano Man. Billy Joel. 1973.

Taking a deep breath, he taps on it and soon, the first piano notes start, followed by a soft harmonica that seems to reply to the piano, syncing into a peaceful and melancholic melody. The boys sway from side to side, warm smiles and tired eyes closing for a bit as the song starts and Billy starts to sing.

Looking up, Giorno smiles, finding Lena’s eyes filled with tears and grinning as the twins relax in their arms, not quite understanding the depressing undertone behind the song, that was probably inspired by Billy Joel’s attempt to get out of a bad record deal —not realizing the people mentioned there are all real people he played for as the piano man, whom everyone relied on to get over their daily life sadness and problems.

Dante leans forward and Giorno uses his arm to prevent him from falling, allowing him to lean closer to his twin. Reaching out, Dante finally touches Jovi’s arm, catching his attention. Jovi, conscious, smiles back at his twin, holding his hand like they’ve always done.

Right as their hands meet the room spins, lights flicker and then it stops.

There, everything happens in a flash: the twins' hands slowly pull apart until there's a space in between them. In the middle of that space, green, blue and golden sparks spin around an invisible core, slowly absorbing into it and forming a small black mass —slowly, the mass starts to shift, becoming much larger and white, displaying a black dot at the top that slowly grows and takes its own shape. By the time it stops growing, the shape remains as a rectangular, long piece of wood with one single black line in the middle. Though there’s no mechanism, the object still clicks and then it’s back between the boys’ hands, held by them and connecting them, too.

Giorno blinks confused, unable to name the recent event, move or even think.

Frowning, and still as shocked as her husband, Lena takes the object from them, making sure they’re still listening to the song, detached from the object that has just… Materialized.

“A piano key?” turning it around, she frowns, then looks back at Giorno, giving it to him.

Inspecting it closer, Giorno hums, finally out of shock. Slowly lowering his hand, he ponders his words for a second, finding it impossible to keep holding his supposition for longer. “I think… This might be their stands. Remember the prophecy?”

She frowns, the prophecy coming to her mind right there: almost like she had learned it word by word, until there's something that does not match the situation: looking into her husband's eyes, she frowns, lips parting until Fugo speaks up through Pietro’s earpiece:

“Time has resumed. I repeat, time has resumed. It's ten o'clock. Everyone please get back to your previous positions until the twins—”

Reaching out, Giorno takes the earpiece from Pietro and taps on the side of the small device: the action activates the mic and Giorno replies, out of breath even if he’s sitting. “Fugo, I want Paolo here. Now. The time thing was related to their stands.”

“What?”

Giorno’s jaw tenses and he mumbles his answer through gritted teeth, “Aren’t you looking at the cameras?” He takes a quick look at the twins, watching them still enjoying the last part of the song then at Lena, who’s turned paler and hasn’t stopped looking at him: like she's terrified.

Walking up to them, Bocelli reaches out for Jovi, noticing Lena’s expression. “Donna,” he says, taking the boy from her. “We need to make sure they’re okay. It seems they’re completely out of danger, but still, we need to run some more tests.”

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” Standing up, she still gives Jovi a smile while Bocelli sets him down. Imitating her, Giorno stands and turns around, letting Dr. Louis take Dante in her arms and set him down beside his twin. Soon, both professionals start a quick physical examination as the conversation between Fugo and Giorno still goes on.

“Giorno,” Fugo says, “The cameras stopped working when time stopped. I was trying to monitor you through your earpieces. I didn’t see anything.”

Clenching his jaw, Giorno tenses, then sighs heavily. “Got it. Then, come here and bring Paolo with you… But make sure the Kishibes are okay.”

“Sure.” The communication ends and Giorno sighs, returning the earpiece to Pietro, who stands there awkwardly for a moment, then puts it on and walks out, Vivianne and the others behind him, rushing back to their previous positions despite the plethora of questions and longing looks thrown their kids’ way.

Closing his laptop, Fugo stands up from the desk, walking in big strides to the door and next down the hall in the Kishibe’s room direction —he’s sure he almost (if not) damaged the hinges from the sheer strength he used to open the door: his confidence drops for a second as he makes eye contact with Paolo and the Kishibe family, mouth agape for a second.

“Kishibe-sensei, is everything okay over here?”

Rohan’s frown does not go unnoticed, nor does his curiosity and worry when he asks back. “Is everything okay over there?”

Sighing, Paolo turns, patting Rohan’s back and pulling back as soon as Rohan steps aside to avoid his touch. “Rohan-sensei,” the scientist starts, walking over to the door in short steps, hands behind his back, entwined, “Don Giovanna will let you know soon. As you can probably sense, things might be back to normal, but I’m positive this hasn’t ended.”

Stopping by the doorway by Fugo’s side, Paolo turns around, facing the family. “Please stay here, it’s just logical to stay safe after the magnitude of the event we just witnessed.”

Closing the door, Paolo turns to Fugo, as if knowing what’s going on —though it was just his guessing. Fugo nods, leading the way: “When time resumed, it looks like something happened with the twins’ stands.”

“Oh?” Paolo lights up, his attention completely on Fugo now. “What happened?”

Stopping before the door, Fugo’s hand stops as soon as he takes the doorknob, turning to Paolo with stern eyes. “That’s exactly what we don’t know.”

***

The room’s calm, with the medical team still observing Dante and Jovi, who are now sitting on the carpet surrounded by their favorite toys and their cat. By the left, sitting before them and watching over them, their parents —while Lena’s eyes seem lost somewhere along her sons, Giorno remains standing, arms crossed and lips pressed tight.

“So,” Coming into the room, Paolo stands beside Giorno, arms behind his back and a playful sway to his body as he speaks up. “What happened, boss?”

Giorno barely looks back as he shows the piano key, holding it between two fingers. “This happened.”

Eyes drifting between the key and his boss, Paolo grins; “I’m afraid I’m not talented enough to play piano, boss. That should be Fugo, he played in a bar for some month—”

“Paolo,” Lena calls, voice soft but still stern. “That… That thing came from them.”

“Oh?” taking the piano key from Giorno, Paolo turns it around, examining it cautiously: “What exactly do you mean, Donna? By ‘came from them’ we could think of many things. In order to give you a hypothesis, I need to know everything.”

Lena sighs, reminiscing the event: “Jovi woke up first and asked for cuddles. Then, Gio took Dante with him: he was more, uh, responsive? Active?” her hands toy with the fabric of her dress, trying to find the proper words to describe the situation, “I don't know, he just asked for their favorite song and Jovi immediately woke up. Then Gio started playing it. Dante … He reached out to Jovi and when they held hands something happened.”

“Oh? You say Dante reached out to Jovi?”

“Yeah.”

Paolo chuckles, amused, a knowing look hidden behind calm eyes —and as he speaks, his laughter only grows: “Chrono, Chrono, Chrono!” he laughs fully and carelessly, voice dropping a few octaves: tone accusing. “Prophets…”

“Yeah…” Giorno nods, still looking at the boys. “What we need to know is if we're right.”

“It depends,” Paolo says, “What's your theory, Giogio?”

Finally looking back, Giorno's chin points at Lena. “It's hers —she thinks Chrono lied.”

“Well,” the scientist crosses his arms above his chest, toying with the piano key before him. “Let's see, why a piano key, of all the things? Is there something you are not remembering? Everything has a reason.”

Both fall silent, and while they're still looking on deep in thought Paolo hums to himself, sitting with the boys. “Don't worry, I have plenty of time.”

Lena's the first to talk, slowly turning to look at him. “It's a piano key, because their favorite song features a piano. Now, I don't think that's what we should be thinking about. Remember the prophecy?”

Paolo hums, leaning his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his closed hand, eyes drifting between Passione’s bosses. “I understand you might be worried and confused. But it is important, at least for me: everything has a reason when it comes to these things. It’s science. Now,” looking back at Jovi, then at Dante, he starts explaining his hypothesis.

“I think the song acted as a trigger —have they ever seen a piano before?”

Fugo speaks for the first time since he got there, voice calm but still holding an ounce of anxiety behind. “I’ve played for them. So, yeah.”

“Good,” Paolo nods, “Then, that means they’ve seen and are familiar with piano keys. They might not know how they work or the material they are made of but one thing is for sure: they know that’s a piano key and that’s the thing that can play their favorite song.” Looking up, he meets Lena’s eyes, then Giorno’s: “Now let’s take a quick look at the prophecy, hm? I’m pretty sure both of you learned it by heart just so you could be sure everything happened like Chrono said.”

The couple nods, and he gestures at them to go on.

Giorno takes a deep breath: “Reborn and Rebuilt. Reborn for Dante and Rebuilt for Jovi.”

Paolo nods, raising a finger to interject with a question. “Who touched who and happens to be the one that creates matter?”

This time, Lena replies, voice tiny. “Dante’s Reborn.”

Paolo hums, “Then that means Dante was the first to react, and Jovi’s Rebuilt just responded to its counterpart —which means…”

Giorno sighs, sitting on the couch beside Fugo. “Chrono said both stands would awaken in October or November, but wouldn’t be active until they turned seven.”

Silent, Paolo nods, fully knowing what this means —the rage of those two. Cold, scary and explosive, held back by stern eyes and calm faces.

The thing that comes, however, is something completely different: while Giorno’s still looking down at the floor Lena speaks up, softly: “Thank you, Paolo, Fugo.”

Fugo stands up, as if knowing he’s dismissed without having to be told: Paolo follows and as they leave, Dr. Bocelli’s words react their ears:

“They’re out of danger, boss.”

As the door closes and the medical team leaves for a break before packing everything, the family in the room remains in silence as the twins drift back t o sleep, tired but no longer ill; safe and healthy.

“Helena.” Giorno mumbles, reaching out for her hand as he sits by her side, his eyes clouded by the strands of wild hair that fall on his eyes and the shadow that forms due to the low lighting in the room. “Are we on the same page?”

It takes a moment for her to reply, but when she does he’s sure he’s never seen her so angry yet so calm and collected —like she’s holding it all in for later, when the time comes to unleash. “We are, babe. I think we should ask Ari and Rohan to watch over them for a bit.”

“Hm?”

Lena looks back at him, brown eyes darkened and lips in a straight line: though her brow remains relaxed, the tension in her voice is enough for him to know her true feelings, the turmoil of negative emotions she’s holding in. “We’re paying a visit to our favorite prophet.”

The smile that curls his lips up screams danger —the kind of smile only his enemies have seen: wicked and horrifying. “Oh, I’d love that.”

***

“I’m serious, Don Giovanna!” standing in the living room with his phone clutched in his hand and a deep blush across his cheeks, Dr. Joshua López plants himself before the much taller mafia boss, “I can’t accept this! It’s too much!”

Giorno looks back —and down— at the man, a much calmer expression now that he and his wife have talked and planned out their next move, and giving a small smile to the man before him, his hand comes up to rest on Dr. López’ shoulder. “It’s never enough when it comes to my family’s well being.” Looking up and in Dr. Louis’ direction, he makes sure to look her in the eye as he finishes with a: “We will be forever grateful with you. If you ever need something, I’m positive we can help.”

Dr. Bocelli speaks up from the couch, his cane between his legs and a cup of tea in his hands. “Please accept the money, Joshua, Rebecca: they're really grateful for your help: for traveling all the way here to see the boys. Right, son?”

Giorno chuckles, dropping his hands at each side of his body and shrugging, he nods: “He’s right. That’s the least we can do, but I’m serious —if you have a problem, we can help.”

Walking over, Dr. Louis sets her hand on Dr. López’ shoulder, a reassuring tone to her voice as she speaks to her friend. “Just take it, Josh.”

“Agh,” sighing, Joshua nods, looking at Giorno in the eye, then at Lena —who has been sitting by Bocelli’s side— and hums. “Thank you, it was a pleasure to work with you.”

This time Lena replies, “Of course, Dr. López. Please let Director Arroyo I’m forever grateful for his help.”

“Of course, Donna.” Bowing one last time, Dr. Louis and Dr. López leave the mansion with Vittorio and Abel behind to escort them all the way to the airport: there, another group of Passione’s soldatos would keep track of them until both arrive at their homes.

As the door closes behind Abel’s back and Akashi stands aside, Paolo walks downstairs with Rohan. The latter seems tense, maybe angry as he comes to stand before Giorno with both hands tightly curled into fists and his jaw in a straight angle.

“Mind telling me what’s going on, Giovanna?”

His question doesn't bring anything new to Giorno —sighing, the Don turns around and walks back to his wife’s side, sitting down in the couch armrest. Gesturing upstairs, he says: “Bring your wife and daughter, then. Ari needs to hear this, too.”

Ari speaks from the upstairs, carefully walking down: the absence of Ellie has Rohan frowning before she explains, “Ellie fell asleep for the night. I have the monitor with me.”

Reaching the living room and walking up to the couch, Ari’s hand finds Rohan's, gently coaxing him to sit down and listen to whatever Giorno and Helena have to say.

Crossing his arms under his chest, Giorno sighs: “Well, I guess Paolo should start with the theory.”

Clapping and standing before both couples, Paolo grins: almost like the words about to be pronounced don’t mean too much. “Turns out little Giorno number one and Giorno number two have, uh, really fucking strong and dangerous stands! I’m sure you two heard time stopped, right?”

Rohan nods, slowly, and Ariel hums.

Paolo keeps going, “So. Time stopped because while we were trying to figure out what the hell was happening, Reborn and Rebuilt were ready and functional. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Quit it,” Giorno shots back, “Just say it.”

“Right,” looking back at the Kishibes, Paolo blurts out: “Chrono lied with the prophecy. Dante and Jovi’s stands are exactly what it said, but… It never said they would be active since the awakening and active phase. We were told they would use them once they got a little bit older.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Giorno stands up, retrieving the piano key from the pocket of his jeans. “This is what they made. As you can see, it’s a nonfunctional piano key —they know this little thing can play their favorite song. To me,” he sets the piano key on the coffee table before Rohan and Ari, standing before them. “It means the more knowledge they have, the better their creations will be. Knowledge and experience will directly mean they will be dangerous… The thing is they’re still kids, barely starting to live. This is not something we considered before.”

The prophecy shared with them months ago comes to mind and, as Rohan looks down at the piano key and reluctantly reaches out to it, Ari looks back. “Do you mean Chrono was right with the matter creation thing?”

Giorno nods, lips pressed in a tight line. “Yes.”

Rohan sighs and speaks up now. “If Chrono lied… And you didn’t expect this, you must be angry.”

A dark chuckle leaves Giorno’s throat, rumbling through his chest and making Rohan look back through big eyes and tense shoulders: by his side Ari reaches out for his hand, unconsciously gripping at it.

“You have no idea,” he says, leaning back and passing a hand through his hair, then goes back to his previous posture, expression back to normal. “We’re planning a visit tomorrow.”

“So we were wondering if you could stay and watch over Dan and Jojo while we’re gone.” Lena speaks now from her spot on the couch, taking the cup of tea Akashi offers. “We understand you’re still tired from the flight and a lot of weird stuff happened today, but we’d leave in the afternoon. Just so we can rest, you know.”

Ari nods, still holding onto Rohan’s hand. “I know Dan and JoJo are still resting a lot, but we’ll make sure to keep them company. Is there any worry about them using their stands now that they’re active? Should Rohan use Heaven’s Door to temporarily disable their stands until we know more?”

Glancing down at Ari, Rohan raises an eyebrow. “Is that something that’s on the table?” He looks over at the Don and Donna next, waiting for a response.

The weight and weariness of the past few days is evident on the couple’s faces, but Giorno remains steady, thinking the request over. “As is often repeated in the community, stand users attract other stand users. With the boys’ stands manifesting this early, they would undoubtedly be in more danger. I am willing to let you seal them, Rohan, but we need to carefully consider the phrasing and how much we limit or allow.”

Rohan nods, pulling a small sketchbook from his pocket. “We can modify the language of it as much as we need before I write it in them.”

“Let’s work on it tonight so we don’t have to worry about it tomorrow. We don’t know if the new stands have any auto-defense mechanisms or not, so we’ll have the whole team on standby if necessary.”

Ari raises her hand and pulls Hearts out, saying, “I can use my lights to calm them down too, if you need it.”

“Giogio and I can each hold a twin too, to keep them more calm.” Lena adds, holding her stomach.

Looking over, Giorno gives her a sad look, holding a hand to her stomach. “Helena. I know you want to be there. But if anything does happen, I prefer to keep you and our future baby safe. I know it’s not in your nature to sit things out, but would you want to watch over Eliana along with Akashi?”

Eyes filling with tears momentarily, Lena nods. “I’ll do whatever we need to keep everyone safe.”

Ari walks over, wrapping her arms around Lena’s shoulders from behind and holding tight. “Why don’t we all get some food together and work on the phrase? I got Ellie some applesauce and waffles and yogurt earlier, but I don’t think anyone else has eaten much since lunch.”

Giorno looks up, finally smiling a little. “We could do pizza tonight.”

Rohan nods, standing. “I know Tonio’s recipe for a good mozzarella tomato salad too, if you’d like any help.”

***

It's late —past two in the morning, dark clouds visible through the curtains as chilly air blows past and into the Giovanna's mansion living room. The moonlight and the sounds of the night work as a natural melody for the two men hunched over the coffee table between mugs and energy drinks.

“Master,” Heaven's Door calls, hand carefully set on top of his user's shoulder, where his thumb rubs gentle motions over the tense muscles as he overlooks the men.

“Hm?” blinking slowly, Rohan leans back, wincing as his back cracks and the pain is momentarily relieved: green eyes heavy with sleep but still holding determination.

“I believe we're ready.” The stand says, pointing at the messy words written in the paper before them, then at Giorno —who's not in a better condition, purple bags under his bloodshot eyes, lips dry and hair slicked back after hours of thinking and working on the correct, most effective phrasing.

Looking back at Giorno, Rohan hums, reading over the orders once more and then back at Giorno with an arched eyebrow. Sighing, he reaches up for his headband, slipping it down and letting the fabric hang around his neck, words mumbled out in a quiet, exhausted tone. “If you agree, Giovanna, I'll go get Ari.”

Giorno hums —deeper, like the stress has finally worn him out. Reaching out, he pulls the paper sheet to him, reading over one, two, three times before he nods to himself, looks back at Rohan and Heaven's Door and nods firmly. “Yeah. But. I was thinking… Maybe Gold Experience Requiem can, you know, help.”

“I don't think I get it—” frowning, Rohan's fingers massage his temples, a funny small undertone to his words. “Justify your answer.”

“Mhm,” Leaning back, Giorno winces as a short sensation of numbness sets on his lower back and disappears almost immediately —and still he replies, slowly as he thinks about his words and the proper way to phrase his reasoning. “Goldie can…” he looks up into the ceiling, almost like it has the answer: after a moment, he looks back, eyes drifting between stand and user: “He can disband other stands, to put it simply —it's far more complicated than that. But I think it can work. Make everyone's work easier.”

Tapping his pen against the table, Rohan and Heaven's Door fall silent for a moment before Heaven looks back, golden eyes shining under the artificial light. “But Hearts can help calm them down.”

Standing up, Giorno smiles, turning and walking up to the closest window: “Figured you'd say that. The thing is you'd keep them calm, yes, but we don't know how aggressive, responsive and alert Reborn and Rebuilt can be. Let's remember we're just seeing them. Anything can happen.” turning his back to then, Giorno keeps talking, hands entwined behind his back and voice low, barely audible for Rohan:

“I'd hate to see anyone hurt.”

Sighing, Rohan smiles, pretending to not have heard Giorno but knowing his words will let the Don know he did. “Okay then, Mr. Protect Everyone. I'll get her.”

As he leaves the living room, Giorno's voice reaches his ears:

“Go, Romeo, go.~”

Chuckling and shaking his head as he leaves and walks down the hall, Rohan turns on the corner, stopping on his tracks as he comes face to face with Westwood and Ari. The frown that reaches his features tears a small chuckle from West, who stands aside and gestures to Ari, voice a gentle warm tone: “She couldn't sleep so I offered to take her here, Kishibe-sensei.”

Nodding as a 'thank you' Rohan steps closer, hand reaching out to Ari's shoulder as Westwood leaves down the hall (probably going to check on Giorno), leaving them alone.

“Hey,” he calls gently, tilting her chin up with the pad of his index from his free hand, “What's wrong?”

“'s nothing,” Ari mumbles, wrapping a warm hand around his arm, “Just worried.”

Rohan's features relax and his lips curl up into a calming, soft smile: “Everything's gonna work out. We made sure to think of everything.”

“I know. Just anxiety…”

Taking her hand and guiding her forward, Rohan's eyes soften as he looks back at his wife. “Fear and anxiety makes us human. It's natural to feel it.”

Wiping a stray tear, Ari nods, looking back with a soft, tired smile, “You're right.”

As they reach the doorway, Giorno's sitting in the couch with his head between his palms —and as soon as the sound of their footsteps alerts him of their presence he straightens up, playing it off with a quick look at Ari and a: “You don't have to do this, Ariel.”

Walking in, she shakes her head no, sitting before the Don with determination shining behind her eyes. “I want to.”

Giorno smiles, dimples slightly standing out: “A warrior, huh? Well,” standing up, he walks up to the door, stopping only to say: “I'll go get the boys. This room is far away from the others so if something goes wrong, my team will have more space to move around and protect you and act. Please prepare.”

Sharing a look, the Kishibes nod, watching the Don leave with Westwood following him —the flicker of his shadow and the sound of air blowing outside leave behind a mysterious, scary silence.

“So,” Westwood starts once they’re in the hall, hands inside his pockets and eyes glued to the ground. “Are you really ready to show your stand, boss?”

The answer comes after a long silence, right as they reach the stairs: “What are you trying to say, West?”

Chuckling, Westwood shakes his head: “You shouldn’t answer a question with another question… I guess I’m just wondering if this is really the right moment.”

Giorno hums, thoughtful, “Rohan and Ariel know little to nothing about my stand, but… If it’s about the boys, then it’s the right time. Besides, everyone I trust has seen my stand and knows about his powers: I believe our situation calls for it, too.”

Reaching the top, Gio stops and turns around to face his friend and bodyguard and only there when Westwood stops before Giorno does he notice the exhaustion on his features, not masked anymore.

“West,” Giorno says, eyes dull, “Trust is not a bad thing.” His hand reaches out, landing on Hysteria's user shoulder and applying minimum pressure, as if trying to comfort him. “I know you don't always know who to trust, but I can assure you Kishibe Rohan and his family do deserve our trust and protection.”

Chuckling, Westwood nods, raising a hand to pat Giorno on the shoulder with a quiet: “Got it, got it.”

As Giorno turns around and keeps walking, Westwood speaks up again, though this time quieter. “You're showing your stand as a thank you, then.”

Grabbing the doorknob to the twins bedroom, Giorno nods. “Yeah. But Rohan and Heaven have been curious about Goldie for a while now —you can call it a demonstration.”

Stifling a laugh, Westwood shakes his head, mumbling one last “So you're just getting cheeky~” as they come into the room, coming face to face with Abel and Akashi.

“Shhhh,” Akashi starts as soon as he spots them, raising a finger to his lips: “They're asleep.”

Nodding, Abel steps in, blocking the light coming from the hall from reaching the sleeping toddlers, “Is everything ready?”

Sitting by Jovi's bed, Giorno mumbles out: “Yes.” then reaches down, taking the boy in his arms, lifting him up carefully until he's cradling his sleeping son against his chest. Standing up, he turns to Carvelli. “Could you take Dante?”

Doing as told, Westwood imitates Giorno and as they're standing ready, Abel comes closer with two small blankets, draping each over their shoulders and into the kids to keep the light from hurting their eyes and waking them up.

“There you go,” he says, forcing himself to smile even if he's anxious, “Don't want the Donna to hear them cry, right?”

Giorno nods, though the mention of his wife brings a short sensation of pain to his chest —to think of her crying and worrying as she watches over Ellie brings uneasiness and sadness to him. But still, he nods, imitating Abel with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes nor makes his dimples stand out. “Right. Could you two go and stay with her?”

“Of course, Giogio.” Clapping, Akashi runs out between giggles, waiting outside for Abel.

***

Paolo Aparigi is a scientist. He believes exclusively in evidence and science —anything else, like religious dogma and superstitions must prove themselves.

Stands are science, he knows: because their existence is related to medicine and said discipline is science and biology coded. His own stand demands his understanding and attention on scientific matters, but even with his years of sitting behind a desk reading, writing and his vast experience dealing with other stands and stand users, nothing could compare to the physical pressure requiem stands could inflict.

He could only describe it as funny: the amount of ridiculously oppressive pressure a requiem stand could inflict was nothing to joke about.

A quick look around the room and he's sure everyone's just as affected as him—shaking hands, dizziness, tiredness and probably more than he can see.

Gold Experience Requiem has been standing in the corner of the room, big pink eyes staring from his spot as Giorno and Westwood stand in the middle holding the twins who are still asleep, with the rest of La Squadra and Unità around them: the process had just started and though he is the closest to the door, he still can't bring himself to leave even if Giorno did say anyone could leave if they couldn't take it.

The voice coming from the corner, of that being close to a god, makes him stand straight and look forward when he speaks:

“Kishibe Ariel, use your stand, please. I will not attack or affect your powers.” His hand rises up forming a fist and the pressure in the environment decreases like he willingly dropped —or overturned— his abilities like some kind of electromagnetic field to allow her unrestricted movement and space.

Through shaking hands, Ari leaves her husband's side, approaching Giorno first: Hearts on Fire pops out after a moment, almost like her user struggled to call her. Reaching a hand out, Heart's hand rests gently on top of Jovi's head, combing his blond wavy strands back. A blue aura soon emits from Hearts’ forehead and stomach eyes, glowing through her crystal heart as well and surrounding the stand and the boy, who sighs in his sleep and sinks further in his father's arms.

Gold Experience Requiem turns to Rohan, eyes boring into his soul and a hand gesturing forward with a “Go ahead, Kishibe Rohan.”

Standing up from the couch, Rohan curses under his breath as dizziness kicks in for a second, then makes his way over. With Heaven's Door peeking over his shoulder in Goldie's direction, both stands share a look before Heaven turns back to Jovi, raising his hand, swiping open at his forehead and stops to look back at Giorno.

The Don's eyes show his pain and exhaustion: the hurt from seeing this. Still, he nods, lips tightly pressed into a line and eyes dull, from their usual tone to a darker one.

“Sorry, Giovanna.” Rohan whispers, right hand shaking as he holds the pen and writes down the command:

‘Reborn and Rebuilt will not work, passive or actively, unless my life or my brother's are in danger and we are unprotected.’

Nodding, Rohan makes sure to deactivate his stand on Jovi, reading over the command and letting his skin turn back to normal when he's satisfied with the result. Then, he moves on, now before Westwood and Dante. Quietly, he watches Ari repeat the same process: using the blue light and letting it sit for a moment before he's allowed to come closer.

And repeating his own actions, he still mumbles his apologies to Giorno, hands shaking by the time he's done.

The room stays the same for a second —the sounds of crickets outside suddenly disappear and Paolo tenses, noticing the two silhouettes barely forming behind Giorno and West.

“Don't move.” Gold Experience Requiem says, pink eyes staring right into the two beings: there, he watches over both. The one coming from Dante, a completely white humanoid being with a clear hose down his arms, connected to a core in the middle of its chest —the other, the one behind Jovi, has the same humanoid form and white skin with only one clear hose in its left arm, connected to his back and ending at the top of his right shoulder. Both vibrate, with the one coming from Dante producing something that circulates inside the hoses relentlessly.

As both their hands materialize and reach out to the other, Ari's stand reaches out again, setting her hands atop the twins' heads and, as the first wave of blue light comes out in waves, both stands disappear and the edges of the pages in their foreheads disappear.

Finally deactivating his powers, Goldie overlooks the room: everyone's panting and sweating, completely exhausted. And so he says: “We're done, Master.”

“Thank you, Goldie." He says, leaning back.

Before he disappears, Goldie bows, leaving behind the faint smell of honey and flowers.

Sitting up straight, Giorno looks back at the Kishibe's, blinking slowly –like a cat, though his action comes from his exhaustion. “Thank you.”

Helping Ari sit down as La Squadra and Unità slowly take their seats in the couches, Rohan nods, taking slightly longer to reply as he sits on the floor between Ari's legs, leaning his head on one of her thighs. “Yeah, 's okay. Jus' make sure they're okay.”

***

As they stop before the door, Akashi and Abel tense. With the latter still offering his arm for Lena to hold on, the Capo and soldato look back at their boss: she's quiet, brown eyes bloodshot from all the crying and tiredness. Her hand rubs over the baby bump and the other grips Akashi's arm, staring straight into the door. Anxious and tired.

The door opens suddenly and Giorno's there by the other side, a towel draped over his shoulders, damp hair and pajamas on. Taking a step out, he offers a hand out to his wife, talking to his men with a small, reassuring smile:

“Thank you, Abel, Akashi. Go get some sleep.”

Letting go of Akashi's arm, Lena remains silent as she takes Giorno's hand and both men leave.

In silence, both come into their bedroom.

Guiding her to the bed, Gio's silent as she sits down, eyes welling up with tears as she looks over the sleeping twins in the middle of the bed, surrounded by blankets and pillows in an attempt to keep them from falling down.

“Hey,” he calls, setting a warm hand on top of her cold ones, leaning down in order to do so, “We succeeded. Their stands are sealed: they won't be used unless there's no one to protect them.”

A sob cuts off the silence —reaching out, Lena holds both of his hands between her shaking ones, quietly crying and trying her best to hide her face from his view. With a “Hey,” Giorno moves, kneeling before her, trying his best to warm her hands with his. “It's okay. They're healthy.”

Another sob and she reaches out, arms open and face red and swollen: the image breaks his heart. Coming closer, he wraps both arms around her, rubbing her back as she holds onto him, mumbling her answer against the crown of his head:

“I'm just glad it's over,” wiping her tears with the pads of her fingers, her smile slowly brings a small pink blush to her cheeks, “Knowing they'll be playing soon. Running around the house, asking about their sister. I'm so happy…”

Pulling back, Gio grins —relieved and calmer— looking up at her. “I'm sure they will keep going like nothing happened. We will talk to them if they ask, but I think we should keep this information from them until they're older and mature enough to understand.” his hand reaches out, cupping her face gently, tone shifting to one quieter and warmer. “I was just going to fill the tub for you, do you want to take a bath or leave it for tomorrow?”

Leaning into his touch, Lena hums, rubbing a hand over his arm. “I don't think I have the energy for a bath, maybe just a quick shower. Creating a baby is hard, you know.”

Laughing, Giorno pulls back to untie her shoes, tossing them aside and standing back again, a warm, tired smile her way as he walks into the closet to retrieve clean clothes.

Looking back, Lena reaches out to Dante, then at Jovi, tracing their faces with the pad of her finger. For a second, as the sounds of Giorno walking in the other room and the quiet night surround her, her attention remains only on her sons, studying their faces and making sure they're safe: counting down their fingers, making sure their freckles are still there —even running her hand over their hair and checking the color of it. The same type and color as their father's.

“Okay, I got you my hoodie and clean panties —” stopping before her after coming back from the bathroom, Gio goes silent, waiting until she looks back, sighing in relief when he notices her calm expression, keeping on. “Do you need help showering?”

Shaking her head no, she stands up, slowly and only after looking back at the boys, Lena walks over to Gio, taking the towels from him and pulling him in for a short kiss. “Be right back, babe.”

***

The bathroom door opens slowly. Blinking the sleep away, Gio looks up into the direction he knows the door is: there stands his wife, wearing his hoodie and putting a wild curl behind her ear.

“Hey,” she whispers, slowly walking up to bed. “Sorry it took so long, I needed to dry my hair first.”

Nodding, Giorno stands up, quickly circling the bed and offering a hand to help her up into the bed. As she makes herself comfortable, he pulls the comforter up around her hips. Then, he retrieves another comforter from the top of his side of the bed, mumbling:

“Guess we won't share the comforter today. Gotta keep them safe.”

She hums, watching him climb on his side and lay down, propping himself up into his elbow.

Both of them look down at the sleeping twins —deep asleep, like nothing happened and it had just been a long day playing and running around the house.

Slowly looking back, Lena's mouth opens slowly to ask in a whisper: “Where…?”

Looking back, Giorno blinks slowly, understanding her real question almost immediately:

Where did he write the command?

Raising a hand, his finger comes closer, almost touching Dante's forehead, right where Rohan had written the command: “Here.”

She nods, thoughtful. Perhaps calmer than before. Then, she slowly settles down, mumbling: “And I guess Ari helped too?”

“She did.”

Sighing, a soft smile lifts her lips up. “They're so good to us.”

He follows her eyes, watches her blink slowly, staring at the spot he signaled earlier. Her question does not come out, though he knows she really wants to ask: like she's afraid of even mentioning the topic.

Slowly opening his mouth, Giorno's warm hand reaches out, gently coming to rest against her hip with a whisper intended to reply to her unspoken question:

“Goldie saw their stands. Not completely, but I know he could see some small details.”

She looks back, lips pressed into a line and a quiet hum. If she wants to talk more, he's sure the topic will come up again tomorrow, when both have rested and calmed down.

He watches her eyes close and her hand reach out, holding Jovi's hand and, before he gets the chance to say goodnight, he knows she's already asleep.

Sighing, his own eyes start to close as his mind runs quickly over the recent events: before reaching a conclusion, sleep begins to overcome him.

At least now, compared to around thirteen years before, he's surrounded by everything he's ever wanted but didn't know he needed: a family and friends.

#Giovanna twins #GioLena #AriHan #SunnieD #self ship

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