LegionQueenSav

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

Alva always saw you peeking at him during his arrival at the manor—running away when he'd meet your gaze. He didn't think much of it at that time but now that you're right in front of him, he realises that there's much more to your innocent stares.

"A crush?" he mumbles under his breath, eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you think they have a crush on me?" he questioned in an intrigued manner, looking at the hunter sitting across him.

Mary rolled her eyes, "Monsieur, have you seen the look of pure adoration in their eyes?, can you not feel the love radiating from them? It's not just a crush, they're in love with you" she said, utterly exasperated from how dense the other hunter was.

"It's just that I find it hard to understand why they would" the hermit paused, fiddling with his staff. Mary sighs, "Well, I'll leave you to think about it", before promptly standing up and taking her leave.

"Why would they like me of all people? I don't see what's so good about me" he mumbled, pondering about what exactly they liked about him—but nothing came to mind.

He never pursued love, making it seem like it wasn't necessary but the truth is that he doesn't feel as if he's worthy of it. Yes, he was deemed as a "catch" by other people but he truly never saw his value in anything other than his inventions and ideas.

He wanders around the manor, immersed in his thoughts. Alva only snapped out of his daze upon hearing a soft voice he's never heard before.

"Well, I actually used to know him back then, we were still teens when I met him. I've loved him for years but he never paid much attention to anyone aside from Herman" they paused, swirling the tea in the cup they held in their hands.

Alva perked up, staying quiet—he wanted to hear more from this person that apparently loved him. A soft laugh enters his ears from beyond the tall hedge.

"I've kept it a secret for so long, so, when I was offered a chance to enter Oletus manor in order to find out more about why he disappeared, I accepted. I never expected to see him again, I was just hoping to see whatever remained of his body so I could finally tell him about how I've felt for so long" tears build up in their eyes as they hold in a muffled sob.

Mary smiles, "I know I've never experienced anything like that, but all I can do is attempt to console you, I can't do anything about your feelings dear" she soothes, rubbing their back.

"I, I know, but it hurts so badly, I've been pining for him for years. I just want to stop, it hurts knowing he'll probably never be mine." they whisper, still loud enough for the hermit to hear.

Alva cups his hand over his mouth, shock and a weird feeling of warmth taking over his body. Just how could someone feel such feelings for him?.

He could vaguely remember one of his classmates. They always tried talking to him despite being known as someone who always stayed away from everyone. He remembered how cold he'd act and how he'd brush them off every time and yet they still kept coming back with that same sweet smile.

He felt warm whenever they were around, heart racing and mind trying to focus on something else that wasn't them. He thought he was just sick, never thinking about the possibility of him having feelings for them.

Herman often brought up how he felt jealous that Alva had their attention—but of course, Alva didn't pay him attention, he thought Herman was joking.

He thought they were this friendly with everyone so he never once thought of telling them about his weird feelings.

Oh, Alva felt like a total fool. He felt as if he was even more dense than Osmium. But how would he even respond? he can't just pop out randomly and say that he accepts their feelings, hell no.

Alva eyes brightened, he's realised that he has the perfect way to confess. He had to hurry though, he had a match with them the very next day.

He quietly teleports to his room, hastily rummaging around his room in order to get the materials he needed. He had to finish before next morning, he absolutely had to.

The next day, (Name) had puffy eyes from crying so much. They kept their head down as they sat in the waiting room. How could they not be nervous, their heart was beating so fast at the thought of even seeing Alva.

They close their eyes as they wait for them to get teleported to the map. They spawn in the middle of Eversleeping Town, quickly running to the nearest cipher.

Alva connects to their cipher but instead of the usual blue connection, it was a very pretty shade of pink. Soon enough, their heart beat sped up.

They gulped, preparing to run only to be stunned to the ground. They close their eyes, waiting for the hunter to hit them only to be picked up. "H, Huh?" they squeak out, holding onto Alva's shoulders when they see just how high up they are.

"I'm not good with words, I never have been so, I decided to do this" He spoke, not looking at them in the eye. He quickly brings them up using a large electromagnetic globe, holding onto them tight in order to not drop them.

They close their eyes, not wanting to see how high up they are. Alva chuckles, slightly amused at their reaction. He sits them on his lap as they hover high above the map.

"Open your eyes... please" he whispers to them, voice as gentle as it can get. (Name) hesitantly opens their eyes only to see why exactly the ciphers were in odd places.

A large pink heart was formed by Alva's connections, the survivors setting off small sparklers on the ground as they waved up at them.

"W, What?, but," they pause, bewildered, They look to Alva, eyes asking for an explanation. Alva hums, meeting their eyes. "I have always liked you, I just never realised what those feelings were back then" he drifted off, smiling down at them.

The hunter started falling for you when you visited him after his match with you, he was surprised to hear you apologising profusely, offering a tray with tea, some soup and a bottle of what looked like pain medication.

You slammed so many pallets on him, he was honestly annoyed during the match so he chaired you and let the other survivors escape and yet here you are, just as battered as him and still checking up on the very person that caused it.

He invites you into his room and that's how your friendship slowly developed into something you never would have expected.

when he first finds out how easy it is to fluster you, he ends up trying to get a reaction out of you every.single.damned.day

he can't help it, you're just so cute

does it during matches as well, he often terror shocks you just so he can carry you around the entire match, or he'll down everyone else and carry you around afterwards as if you're a prize

there was one instance where he terror shocked you and got a good view of your ass

he enjoys seeing the reddish pink hue decorating your face

will flirt with you in public

you can try hitting him to try and teach him a lesson but he'll only laugh at you

you may act annoyed but he knows you like his attention

the only thing you can do is run away from him but even then you fail because his legs are much longer than your own

you try to act like you're annoyed with him but he knows damn well that you love his attentions

he loves it when you try and fluster him back only to fail

Jack admires his new skin, putting his mask on before walking out of his room. He roamed the mansion, hidden from view as he searched for his lovely S/O.

He smiles behind his mask when he finds them painting in the garden, he didn't know what exactly they were painting though.

He snuck up to them, removing both the mist concealing him and his mask before promptly kissing them on the cheek. Their cheeks instantly flare up, they turn to Jack, narrowing their eyes at the tall man.

"Stop doing that!" they shout, hiding their face behind their hands.

"Never~" he responds with a cheeky smile on his handsome face. (Name) huffs, rolling their eyes at him.

Jack peeks behind them, eyes trained on their unfinished painting of him. "Awe, you painted me without asking me to be your muse? how could you not ask me to pose for you beforehand" he pouts, his tone dramatic as he turns away from them and crosses his arms.

Jack quickly faces them again, a teasing smile on his face as he grabbed one of their hands. Before they can even question him, he places their hand on the open area of his chest that the scarf didn't cover.

"Y, You w, wha-" they stammer out, jaw going slack as their face and ears get redder with each passing moment. Jack leans down, "I'd love to be your muse, if you'd like, I can pose in whatever way you want me to, I'll let you paint me nude too," Jack paused, a deep chuckle leaving his lips, "But I'd like it more if you were nude as well—" Jack's mouth was covered by their palm before he could continue, "Not another word from you, y, you pervert!" they cry out, dashing past him and into the manor with a face that could rival a tomato.

Jack frowns a bit, he still wanted to tease them :(. "Oh well, I have a match with them today, they can't escape once it starts" Jack shrugs, his smile coming back, only for him to put his mask back on.

The hunter picks up the painting, humming softly as he cleaned up their paintbrushes, tools, and the easel, leaving a note on the painting as he did.

let me paint you next time, also, you made the eyes way more detailed than needed, ♡

Vera covers her mouth attempting to stifle her laughter, Jack tailing behind her as she purposely leads him to (Name).

She laughs triumphantly when he switched target immediately, chasing after you the moment his eyes landed on you.

"HAH, so worth it, have fun!" she shouts, earning a glare from them as they attempt to run away from Jack.

“Aha, we merely jest, my child. Now,” Reaching into a wardrobe, he pulls out the same outfit you’ve worn every day. “Get dressed and we will head to the dining hall. Wujiu will be waiting outside.” Leaving the stack of clothes in a neat pile, he sets a loving hand on top of your head and steps out of the room soon after. 

You’re quick to pull on your clothes and grab your weapon. Before leaving to meet up with the Black Guard, you grab a marker and scratch off another day from a calendar. Another day without your wish being granted. How many games must you play before you’re set free?

Leaving and shutting the door, you crane your neck to look up. “Good morning, Mr. Wujiu. Did you sleep well last night?” 

With his free hand, Wujiu grabs your own and begins to walk down the long hallways. “We have been over this dear child, Bi’an and I do not need to rest. Though, how about you? Are you well-rested for the day?”

“Yeah, after that match yesterday I went to bed right away. You guys are lucky you don’t have to sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

The rest of the walk was filled with your mindless chatter and Wujiu listening to anything you had to say. 

The dining wall was filled with your fellow hunters. Some are well energized and others are ready to fall asleep in their chair. You take your usual seat at the large table in front of Jack, the Ripper, while Wujiu prepares your breakfast.

“Hello, small one. Are you ready for a day of hunting?” Jack asks while he fiddles with an envelope.

Taking small sips of water, you look at his rarely unmasked face. “Good morning, Mr. Jack. Not really, but I don’t have much of a choice.”

Beside you, Michiko gives a small smile. “My, how honest children are these days.”

Without time to give the Geisha a greeting, Jack waves a slip of paper in your face. “Well, you will be sad to know that you were invited to a game.” He flips the envelope around to reveal your name written in beautiful cursive.

Letting out a sigh you reach for the slip. With your fingertips just gracing the envelope, Jack whips it back. He lazily uses it to fan his face. 

“Not so fast. Before I give you this invitation, I have one question to ask.” He leans over the table. “Am I your favorite hunter?” 

“Uh, well…Mr. Bi’an tells me I shouldn’t lie…”

Next to Jack, the Bloody Queen breaks out into laughter and covers the lower half of her face with her hand.

Jack’s face falls flat. “How honest indeed.” He tossed the envelope onto the table in front of you. “Just take it.” He sighs as he slips on his mask.

You take the envelope into your hands. As you’re peeling back the wax seal, a steaming bowl of rice porridge is set in front of you. It’s topped with fish and green onion.

“Here you are, dear child. Eat before it gets cold. You can read your letter after you’re done.” Wujiu says as he takes his seat next to you. Even when sitting he easily towers over many at the table.

With a pout, you glance over to the guard. “But I wanna see who I’m playing against.”

“It won’t matter whom you’re playing against if you have no energy. Now eat, and don’t forget to thank Ms. Grace for helping with breakfast.” 

“Alright…” You mumble as you take a bite of your meal. The smooth rice goes down quite nicely. Coupled with the fish Naiad had caught, it made the perfect meal to start your day.

From across the table, Jack clicks his tongue. “You two spoil them, Wujiu. They’re practically grown at this point. Why coddle them at every moment?” He leans forward to rest his head in his non-clawed hand.

The guard sets his hand on your shoulder. “Oh hush, Mr. Ripper. We are merely nurturing the child as they had arrived here alone. This manor is no place for someone so young to be wandering about.”

You place your spoon into the empty bowl and wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Wujiu, I think Mr. Jack is right. I’m pretty much grown now. I don’t need help anymore.” You cross your arms in an attempt to look mature.

The umbrella sat in Wujiu’s lap glows as Bi’an tells him something. “Oh? Really, dear child? What about in duo hunters when Bi’an had to help you reach the phone?” He recalls. “Or perhaps the time that novelist told you a scary story and you had us checking under your bed for weeks? Or when-”

“Okay! That’s enough!” You interrupt. “I guess I do have more growing to do. But that’ll be in no time!” 

Wujiu begins to stack your dishes. “You shouldn’t rush. Enjoy your youth while you can.” Picking up the stack of dishes, he stands up from his seat at the table. “How about you read your invitation while I stop by the kitchen. When I get back I’ll walk you to the waiting room.”

With long strides, the Black Guard walks through the dining hall. For a second he pauses. Looking at the large windows that surround the room, he could see the splattering of rain against the glass. Time seems to freeze. Wujiu closes his eyes for just a moment and takes a deep breath. Clearing his head, he continues to the kitchen.

Once Wujiu makes his return, and you say your goodbyes, hand in hand you begin your journey to the waiting room. The waiting area is in a building separated from the main manor. To reach it, you would have to walk through a courtyard. 

“Bi’an will be waiting for you once you return from your match. Remember to stay alert for any survivors that may lurk nearby.” Wujiu states as the two of you come to a covered section of the courtyard. His voice trails off at the sound of rain fills his ears.

You notice him take a step back. The grip on your hand gets tighter. “I can go from here, Mr. Wujiu. I’ll be fast so I don’t get too wet.”

He takes a cautious step forward. “...No, I said I was going to walk you there. Come along now, dear child.” Taking small steps he gets closer and closer to the rain. As he cautiously sets a hand out to feel the droplets on his skin, a clap of thunder booms above you guys. 

With a choked gasp, he steps back into the safety of the roof. He curls in on himself, causing him to let go of your hand. 

“Mr. Wujiu? Are you okay?” You set a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched on contact.

“Ah, yes, I’m quite fine. I’m…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be acting this way in front of you.” 

You’re quick to grab his hand. “No! It’s okay to be scared. That’s what you and Mr. Bi’an always tell me. I’ll just have to be the one that makes you feel better.” You wrap your arms around his tall, lanky frame.

Wujiu gets down on one knee to be closer to your height. Softly, he returns the embrace. “Thank you, dear child.” He smiles, though it looks a bit strained. “Now, we should get you to your match. It would be terrible if you were late.”

“It’s okay, I can go on my own!” Your words caused Wujiu’s eyes to widen. “Even though you and Mr. Bi’an don’t tell me about it, I still know that you guys don’t like the rain. This will prove how grown up I am.” 

Wujiu thinks for a second before giving a more sincere smile. Standing to his full height he pats you on the head. “Alright, make sure to get there fast. We wouldn’t want you to get a cold. Good luck out there.”

You beam back at him. “I’ll make sure to send them all back to the manor. Bye, Mr. Wujiu! Bye, Mr. Bi’an.”

The Black Guard watched as you quickly ran to the other building. Seeing you walk in, he lets out a sign and turns around. The umbrella in his grasp glows. “I know, Bi’an. We will tell them when they are older.” Wujiu makes his way into the manor to let Bi’an wait for your arrival.

The match didn’t take long. The White Guard was standing at the door to the courtyard, book in hand, waiting for you to return. The sound of the heavy door creaking open pulls him away from the pages. “Welcome back, my child. You look quite tired.”

He holds his book underneath one of his arms. Picking you up and setting you on his hip with one hand, he grabs his umbrella with the other. “Did you have a good match?” Bi’an walks down the halls to your room.

“Yeah, I got a win. I’m so sleepy, though. Chasing the survivors around really takes a lot out of me.” You mumble, resting your head on his shoulder.

The walk is silent. Entering your room, Bi’an sets his book and umbrella down. He rests you on your bed before walking to your wardrobe and picking out some comfortable clothes. Turning around he sees that you’ve already gotten under your covers. With a small chuckle, he sets the pile of clothes on your desk.

“Sleep well, my child.” Bi’an pulls the covers up on your body. He smoothes a hand over your head. As he tries to head for the door, he feels a small tug on his jacket sleeve.

“Can you stay with me, Mr. Bi’an? Just until I fall asleep.” You ask him in a sleep-ridden tone.

“Of course, I can.” You scoot over in your small bed to allow him space to lay. His long body doesn't sit very comfortably in the bed. 

You rest your head on his bony chest. The second you make contact, you’re out like a light.