#*one shot

── ˚₊‧ 💋 ɞ₊‧˚ seonghwa x fem!reader ── mdni 𓆩♡𓆪 explicit smut, established relationship, romantic, domestic fluff, pregnancy scare/marriage talk, emotional intimacy, vaginal sex (unprotected), cum eating, squirting, food play, kissing, breast play, multiple orgasms, dirty talk ⸝⸝ᵕ ༯ᵕ⸝⸝ even though I’m wifey, you can hit it like a side chick <3 ── word count: ².²ᵏ 🥞 “clearly, making food would have to wait.”

Word count: 847Type: Oneshot

Somehow this turned from a drabble into a oneshot.

I feel like I wrote Kai really ooc here… I also wasn’t able to incorporate the “shy” element of the reader’s personality considering the situation they’re in, but she’s definitely sweet!

– Mod Katsuki

“Wake up! Please, wake up!”

Your delirious and strained voice shook Kai from his restless slumber. For the first time in years, he awoke with a start. There was an inexplicable terror reverberating from his core, steadily seeping into every nerve in his body and rattling every atom. He’s never felt such anxiety before. Even his worst nightmares – even the ones where he lost you – didn’t do that to him.

What a fool he was.

That nightmare – no, memory – was his breaking point. Losing you was something Kai never thought he’d bat an eye at, yet it was seconds away from happening when you saved him from Shigaraki days prior. The thought of that disgusting man’s hands coiling around your throat, nearly killing you and separating you from Kai forever… he never wants to think about that again.

“Ah, I’m so glad you’re awake now…”, your voice trailed off as you settled back into your seat. You gave his hand a light squeeze to calm his nerves, but his eyes were trained on the bandages around your neck.

In that moment, Kai realized he always took you for granted. Only in the past few days did he realize losing you would completely and utterly ruin him, and not just because you’re the yakuza’s best medic.

His bleary eyes, once a royal gold now reduced to a sickly fawn-yellow, slowly blinked as if taking in their surroundings for the first time. He was thankful that his nerves had began to settle; still, there was no rest for the wicked as nausea immediately flooded from his stomach and crawled up his throat like a charging army. He shot up from the bed and clutched his stomach, hacking up blood and bile onto the satin black covers.

“Kai!”

Despite staying up day and night tending to his wounds, your voice still held a melodious and angelic hum he cherished so dearly. Just hearing his name roll off your tongue settled the restless nerves in his body, and he suddenly realized your voice was also something he took for granted.

He really was a fool.

You hurriedly cleaned the mess he’d made while he stared at you and deliriously daydreamed; for a split second he felt embarrassed being cleaned and coddled like a baby. He was a powerful yakuza boss, reduced to a mere sickly human; but you were still an angel, his angel.

He didn’t deserve you.

“You never have nightmares. Are you okay?”

Your voice broke his troubled reverie as you placed the dirty rag on the floor, blissfully unaware of his tumultuous mind. He grimly chuckled; he had nightmares all the time, he just never admitted it or took them seriously.

Your hands gently gripped his upper arm and settled him back into the pillows, your brow slightly upturned upon hearing his laugh. A wet cloth quickly found itself on his forehead, the latter of which he realized was unbearably hot and sweaty.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t anything serious.”

Liar.

You smiled upon finally hearing his voice, your worries seeping away. He could tell you didn’t believe a word he said, but you still accepted his answer with a smile. It’s not like he could refute how badly that dream hurt him – you saw it with your own eyes only a few moments ago: the way he convulsed and shook as a torrent of tears spilled from his usually cold eyes. You’d already seen him at his most vulnerable.

“You’ve gotten pale,” he commented and eyed your disheveled and slightly oily hair. Bags had begun forming beneath your gorgeous eyes, which were slightly pink from crying, and your lips were slightly chapped. You looked so… different. You never let yourself go like this – all this time he thought you naturally looked angelic. But reality came crashing down: you’re just as much human as he is, and that only makes it easier to lose you.

You laughed and shook your head.  “It’s no big deal, Kai. Besides, it’s only natural I worry when my love is bedridden, no?”

It was more than just worrying though. You were a mess of sweat and anxiety, and clearly you’d forgone eating for the past few days. He hated your response; he wanted to protest, yell out how you didn’t have to do this – at least not for someone like him. But he knew you’d never listen. You may be a healer – a metaphorical angel sent to him for reasons unknown – but your mind was too far gone to listen to reason. After all, you’ve stuck by a monster like him for so long.

“Don’t ever leave me, [Name].”

It was supposed to be an order, but the crack in his voice gave way to his true feelings: he was scared.

You were scared too. You were scared of the dangerous life you’d wandered into. You were scared of the brutal death that flashed before your eyes. But someone has to be strong for both your sake’s.

Name:      How the Heavenly FALLS

Fandom:   Fairy Tail

Pairing:     unrequited Jellyon  [ Jellal Fernandes x Lyon Vastia ]                  + background Lyredy  [ Meredy x Lyon Vastia ]

Rating:      TEEN  [ T ]

Date:        18/01/09, 3:18 AM

A/N:   Here I am, 3 AM, writing an angsty one-shot for my rp-biased otp.            Dedicated to Kai (@wintergraced) bc everything is her fault. Somehow.

             Not that it’s a bad thing.........

LINK:     AO3               RP BLOG: @shcklesofsin               MAIN: @cheschire-kaat ​

     …And to think he'd been worried for Meredy. How ironic... It is himsef he should have protected better.

     ( Then again, why would he have? )      ( This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? )

     Hadn't it always been Erza, with her beautiful locks of red hair --- even with Ultear by his side and in his bed during the time spent masquerading as a council member? Had she not possessed his heart ever since their tender years? Hadn't it always been girls and girls only?

     How in God's name could he have predicted the havoc Lyon would wreck in his life, and that only with a simple kiss under the mistletoe? How could he have predicted that the smug, arrogant, frustratingly handsome Ice wizard would pierce through the walls he'd shielded himself with oh so easily, digging his way to his fragile, broken heart and making it his?

        How?!

     Overwhelmed, Jellal screamed, striking the tree he'd been using as a punching bag for about fifteen minutes in an attempt to find release. He knew Meredy would ask questions in the morning. He didn't care. He didn't care that it was past midnight either; he needed this, him who was always in control, head high and master of his emotions --- but all that was a facade, obviously. A mask behind which hid an once young boy fascinated by stars, now merely a broken soul.

     They couldn't know about this. SHE couldn't know, because she was happy and in love and so was he, with the same man.

     ( Or was he? Was it love, really? )

     He didn't quite know. Everything was so confusing nowadays.

     …

     He was tired. So tired of it all.

     ( At least, he had not forgotten to raise a soundproof barrier this time. )      ( Not that he knew whether it'd fool Erik or not. )

     The golden glow surrounding his hands faded away, and with it left every ounce of adrenaline that had inhabited him. He sunk to the ground, hands ( bleeding from punching the tree so much ) grasping his throbbing head and tears threatening to spill from his hazel eyes.

     He cursed Lyon Vastia and his kiss. Lyon, the man that had made him question everything that had once made sense in his insane life. Speaking his name brought him grief, a feeling of helplessness, warmth in his heart and butterflies in his stomach he pained to crush. Hearing it leave his ( glowing with happiness ) pink-haired guildmate's lips brought him scorching jealousy which guilt always followed. He had turned his world upside down, invaded his thoughts and dreams --- because suddenly he was not dreaming of red locks and lipstick but of white hair, cold hands and broad shoulders, of snow, ice and peppermint breath and exquisite perfume and soft, haunting and tempting lips and Mavis, of his eyes. Those beautiful, hypnotizing eyes of a deep cornflower blue, irises he felt as if he could drown into, eyes full of malice and audace but also of sadness, mystery and---

     The laugh that escaped him was bitter and desesperate and mixed with a sob, because he knew that Lyon Vastia unconsciously had him wrapped around his finger.

     And he hated it.

      Jellal Fernandes hated how deep he'd fallen for the ice prick currently courting his sister-figure, all because of a stupid Christmas tradition the other man had decided to follow.

This is over 1k words omg. It’s the longest piece I’ve written for this blog. But I mean it better be after how long it’s taken me to write, but boy does it feel good to have finally done it! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

Anyway, there’s not a lot of flirting or flustered Toshinori, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Under a read more so it doesn’t get too long.

—Mod Hitoshi

On several previous occasions, you’d been cornered by some fledgling hero trying to take you down. Ever since your vigilante career became front-page news, your capture also became a key for those desperate enough to earn a place among the top. But unlike those times, this time it was the number one hero standing before you—All Might.

His broad frame, in all its splendor, blocked your escape route. Had it been anyone else you’d have been able to get past them with your clever maneuvers, but this was the Symbol of Peace. The hero beloved and admired by all. Nothing got past him.

This request is so adorably original!! I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about Morticia despite hearing about her all the time, so I hope I did her justice here…

Type: oneshotWarning: a lot of laughter and second-hand embarrassment ahead… probably; also, my lackluster rendition of Morticia because I’m unculturedWord count: 745 

– Mod Katsuki

“Tokoyami-san! I mean… Tokoyami, cher (dear).”

Said boy looked up from his book, recognizing your voice immediately but curious as to your… newfound way of speaking. What he didn’t expect was seeing you languidly yet seductively strut towards him, your hips swaying under a jet black corset as a low-cut silk black dress hung from your body. Your hair was parted down the middle, framing your face and accentuating your cheekbones, and your lips were colored a deep wine red.

Needless to say, Fumikage was utterly shocked, though he was experienced in keeping his emotions under wraps. He immediately knew who you were trying to resemble, and honestly, he was slightly gladly you didn’t cover your face in baking powder to emulate Morticia’s famous pale skin. It’d be a shame to hide your beauty, after all.

“Cher, I was looking everywhere for you,” you mused and stood tall before him.

Fumikage internally chuckled at how low you were trying to make your voice go. A hint of a smile was playing on your lips, though you were trying your hardest to suppress it. Gotta stay in character…

“Is that so, [Name]? Why is that?”

You fumbled to find your words and convey them in the alluring way Morticia does, much less remember the bits of French you studied last night precisely for this moment. You mentally cursed yourself for not studying more.

When you didn’t respond, he took this as an opportunity to fluster you more, amused by your newfound “hobby”. Perhaps you were going through one of those teenage phases?

“Can I ask why you’re dressed like that? You remind me of Morticia Addams…”

You jumped on this topic, glad that he noticed. “Précisément, mon cher (precisely, my dear). I simply wanted to try something new, c’est tout (that’s all).”

You held your head high in fake confidence, though Fumikage could tell how uncomfortable you were in your black heels and tight corset. The low-cut dress seemed to be embarrassing you too…

He wasn’t a fool. The blush on your cheeks and the way you averted your eyes, unable to maintain eye contact with him for long, spoke volumes. Perhaps you liked him?

“I see. This is quite sudden, is it perhaps… for me?”

You nearly toppled over your heels, immediately rambling and mumbling for an appropriate answer. What would Morticia say?! Maybe this was a bad idea after all…

Fumikage only chuckled and shook his head in amusement. “You don’t have to change yourself just to capture my attention, [Name]. You’re perfect as is.”

A mere two seconds passed before he realized what he just insinuated. If birds could blush, he’d be a tomato; but, luckily they can’t and even if they could, their feathers would hide it. So from your perspective, he just cooly admitted to liking you. In reality, his mind was reeling and preparing itself for rejection. Perhaps he read too much into your actions…

You excitedly gasped and clasped your hands together, subconsciously leaning closer to the boy. Suffice to say, the low-cut of your dress was somewhat distracting, though you didn’t seem to notice. “Does that mean you like me!?”

Fumikage only blinked, unsure of how to respond. His lack of response immediately made you realize that not only were you making a fool of yourself, you also blew your cool, goth-icon cover! Morticia would be ashamed. You scrambled to collect your composure by straightening yourself and cooly brushing imaginary dust off the skirt of your dress.

“I-I mean…”

Fumikage couldn’t hold in his laughter, and within seconds he nearly had tears in his eyes from the enjoyment. He took this chance to play his (unbeknownst) embarrassment off, regaining his own composure quite quickly.

“See, my dove? You’re perfect just the way you are. Please don’t hide yourself behind a mask – I like you as is.”

Your mind was dizzy from the newfound nickname he’d given you: dove. You’re his dove. You nearly swooned right there.

“A-alright!,” you sheepishly grinned and nervously scratched your cheek. “I guess that means I can finally take off this corset huh…”

“Please do, surely that’s uncomfortable.”

You quickly nodded in agreement, though before you could make a move to leave, he gently grabbed your wrist.

“How about we take a stroll in the park after you change?”

Warning: mentions of emotional abuseWord count: 966

Ah I’ve gotten so many abuse/comfort requests lately. I’m glad you guys like my writing so much that you find it soothing! ｡ﾟ･（>﹏<）･ﾟ｡

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how to write this one - I hope what I wrote is okay with you anon! This also turned into a oneshot rather than a scenario… (´-﹏-`；)

Since I listened to it nonstop while writing, the song for this fic is Billie Eilish (ft. Khalid) - lovely. Feel free to listen as you read.

– Mod Katsuki

Eijiro seemed as chipper as he usually was, but his mind was a nervous wreck.

He noticed. You thought he wouldn’t, but he did. He noticed the way you withdrew from his touch, the way you looked so utterly drained, the way you averted his eyes and stepped back when he got too close. He noticed the skin on your fingers, mercilessly frayed or peeled back when you got nervous. He noticed how tender the corners of your eyes looked and how much makeup you’d started using to hide the bags right under. And every single time you talked to him, he noticed the frightened stutter in your unusually meek voice and the way your eyes glossed over as if holding back tears.

But what hurt the most was how you acted like everything was okay. He knew in his core that something was wrong, but you refused to confide in him and it tore him apart. Did he hurt you somehow? Was he a bad boyfriend?

None of that mattered nearly as much as one question though - how could he help?

He had no idea and it was quickly eating away at his sanity. He just wants to see you happy again, but all he can do is pretend everything’s fine.

But tonight was different.

When he saw you holed up in your dorm room for the past few days, withdrawing from everyone in general, he knew he had to do something soon. Originally he’d planned to stay in with you and watch movies or cuddle, but when he tried to open your door, it wouldn’t budge. He instantly panicked, not putting it past you to hurt yourself considering how odd you’ve been acting recently.

He knocked once. “Hey babe? Are you there?” No answer. Another knock, to no avail.

His knocks became more frantic. Eijiro felt like his world was crashing down, and your lack of response was the breaking point. “Babe? [Name]?? P-please, open up for me.”

You looked up from your reverie, your heart aching upon hearing his broken voice. You hoped he would just leave you alone, you wanted to deal with your demons yourself. Eijiro had no part in your past relationship, there’s no use involving him now. You’d get over it yourself.

“P-please, [Name]. I’ve been worried sick, please… please lean on me.”

A sob tore past your sore throat.

You knew better. The chirpy redhead wasn’t the brightest at school, but he’s a natural people person. There’s no way he wouldn’t notice, and in a way you felt a bit relieved by that fact. They were your demons, yes, but he was your angel.

Eijiro nearly toppled onto you when you opened the door. He instantly fell to his knees and hugged your waist, burying his forehead in your thigh as hot tears spilled onto your foot - he simply didn’t have the energy to hold them in anymore. Days of worrying, pretending, and chasing after you had ruined him.

“Please, please tell me what’s wrong. Please… rely on me.”

Your cheerful Eijiro… begging on his knees just so he could be let into your heart. It certainly didn’t help the emotions you’ve been feeling recently, but it was a wake call nonetheless.

“… I’m sorry Eijiro. I should’ve told you sooner.” He felt like he hadn’t heard your voice – truly heard your voice – in weeks. There was no hesitation or trepidation in your tone for once, and as your gentle hands explored his hair, he felt his nerves start to unravel.

“Y-yeah…”, he weakly nodded. You eyed the ceiling in defeat and sighed. Sinking to your knees, you rest his head on your chest. He didn’t protest; instead, he gladly wrapped his muscular arms around your frail body, basking in the sound of your heartbeat resounding in his ear. The tension that had built in your body slowly seeped away at his touch. You felt so… protected. How long has it been since you’ve felt that way, since you’ve felt this close to him? It may have only been a few weeks, but it felt like you’d been drowning without your anchor. Your Eijiro.

“I’m sorry, Eiji,” you started, intending to console him, but your voice broke and finally shattered under the weight of your emotions. “I-I’m so s-sorry, Eijiro.”

His gaze softened, but the tears didn’t stop. “No. I’m sorry… I… I should have been there for you sooner. I still don’t know what’s going on,” his ruby eyes met yours, and you finally noticed the bags under his eyes. Still, his calloused hands gently cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “I just know I’m a horrible boyf–”

“Don’t… please don’t finish that sentence Eijiro. You’re far for the worst, and I would know.”

“O-oh. Can… can you tell me what happened then? Please?”

Your lips trembled. 

“Only if you want to though…,” he added with a sigh. He didn’t want to rush you, but this was killing him inside.

“Okay.”

Eijiro gaped at your willingness, but quickly grinned. “Thank you, [Name]. Whatever it is, I swear I’ll help you through it! I’m your hero, remember?”

He wiped the tears from your tired eyes before eagerly adding, “I’m your hero, so let me save you.”

Your heart warmed at seeing your sunshine shine brighter than ever. “…Thank you, Ejiro.”

“Babe, don’t thank me. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

For the first time in days, you smiled. His grin reached his eyes, but his eyebrows soon knitted together. He cupped your cheek again, and this time you gladly leaned into his touch.

“I love you. I really, truly mean that.”

They'd gathered at Ms. Nae's place, her worktables pushed together and strewn with creepy-crawly thematic snacks and a bowl of blood-punch. There was talk of games, and a number of impressive costumes meandering about that caught Roks' eye. As he was wont to do, he intended to stay out of the way or follow Zuru around, watching the festivities in fascination.

He was grateful for his costume's cape keeping him warm, as whatever was causing his overheating earlier had faded just in time for the sun to go down so it was even colder than it had been. What ironic timing, but at least the problem had righted itself so he could enjoy the evening without that distraction.

He'd stopped to admire some decorations when he felt a hand land on his shoulder and a familiar voice sarcastically inquire, "Medabot, ahoy! Who do we have here I wonder?"

Roks turned around to see a smiling Metabee, all golden as ever and resplendent in a rather detailed costume Roks didn't immediately recognize. He had an eyepatch and a tricorn hat forced down over his horns so they tore the top out, with a voluminous shirt that had ruffled sleeves and baggy pants tucked into chaps around his feet. He'd topped it off with a tunic vest and a number of belts with holsters and torn fabric sashes, and somehow it all fit him rather well despite the not-quite-human shapes of his parts underneath. Perhaps it was the bagginess, or the intentionally disheveled appearance.

"Hello, Metabee," Roks greeted pleasantly just as Metabee started cracking up looking at him and his costume.

"The Mystery Medafighter!" he announced between laughs. "But who could you really be?" He narrowed his bright green eyes, one almost shining through the eyepatch, and grabbed one of Roks' horns as if to inspect him. "Will we ever know your true identity?!"

"Certainly its no one you know," Roks answered blandly. "I am very mysterious."

"Haha, right--" Metabee began, but was cut off by an arm, encased in a sleeve that looked remarkably like Roks' arm, coming between him and the "Mystery Medafighter" protectively.

"I cannot allow you to manhandle my master," Zuru said, voice lowered and serious.

Metabee's eyes went wide as he looked up at the tall teen, taking in his Roks costume. "Whooooaaaahohoooo," he said almost reverently, taken off guard, then laughed in appreciation and patted Zuru's arm a bit too hard in his giddiness. "That looks awesome, dude! How'd you do those horns? And the shoulders? Dude, I know what Ikki's going as next year! Yours truly!"

"Papier mache and cardboard," Zuru answered simply, smiling slightly with pride under his facemask.

"Dang, good job, man!"

"Thank you." Zuru took an elegant bow. "And you?" He went on to ask, poking the foremost horn of Metabee's hat. "A pirate, huh? That's adorable."

Metabee assumed a sword fighting pose, gesturing with a little toy pirate's cutlass. "Arrr, matey, yer dern right I arrrr!" He waved the sword around in what he surely intended to be a threatening way. "And I'm awesome, arrr, not adorable! En garde! Wah, wah wah wah!"

He was unmistakably a shooter Medabot judging by even his pretend handling of that sword, Roks thought; definitely more adorable than anything. He wasn't about to offend Metabee by voicing that thought, though. "A cutlass?" he inquired instead.

Metabee chuckled. "A toy one." He reached over to bounce it harmlessly off Roks' cape-clad shoulder. "Bap, bap."

"Nonetheless, a good choice of weapon."

"Hehe, glad you approve!" He tried to spin it in his hand like a baton, but wound up nearly dropping it. Trying to save face after flailing to catch it, he straightened out and made a throat clearing sound. "So ah, why don't you have one too, Zu?"

Zuru bit his lip to resist laughing at his antics and shrugged. "I didn't think of it. I should've, though, you're right."

Roks looked up at him. "You may have mine." He held up his hand, but Zuru pushed it away with an amused grimace.

"I'd rather not dismantle you for the sake of a costume. Thanks for the offer, though."

"I have spares," Roks said, tilting his head.

Before Zuru could argue further, though, Metabee pointed his sword at him adamantly. "Man you need to tell Ikki that! Seriously, his first idea was to go as zombies. And I'd be a cyborg zombie, and he was gonna take bits of me apart so I looked broken down. I was like, nuh-uh, dude! This ain't no EX-TREME costuming competition! Leave me in one piece!"

"That would actually look pretty cool, though," Zuru said thoughtfully. Metabee huffed, steam billowing from his horns, and Zuru relented. "Maybe save it for a costume contest with money on the line."

"...Well, if I could win something with it, maybe..." Metabee admitted.

"Right, appeal to the competitive spirit."

Metabee placed his sword hand on his hip and raised his other fist proudly. "Yep! You know me!"

"So secretly insecure that you're constantly trying to prove yourself through competition?" Zuru offered, deadpan, and Metabee made a screechy sound.

"Hey! Watch it!" He made a threatening step forward, "brows" furrowed down and systems whirring, but Zuru just laughed.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Metabee made another partial lunge forward and Zuru stepped back, grimacing, holding his silver-gloved hands up. "Er, really. Sorry?" he offered, and Metabee huffed and literally blew off some steam again.

“Yeah. Take that back. Or I’ll show you just how insecure I am.” He harrumphed and crossed his arms.

Zuru quickly changed the topic, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "So, uh... So what'd Ikki come as, anyway? I don't think I've seen him." A twinkle caught his eye, repentant expression fleeing. "Maybe he’s the fair maiden whose booty you've plundered--I mean--" He waved his hand dismissively with a feigned innocent expression. "--who you've taken captive? Sorry, got my stereotypes confused." His smirk betrayed his attempted innocence, and Metabee took a step back, pointing the point of his toy sword at Zuru accusingly, earlier insult forgotten.

"OOOOOH. OH OH OOOH NO YOU DIDN'T!" He adamantly slashed an X in the air with the toy, but couldn't hide his laughter very well behind his manufactured outrage. "Get outta here with that! There are innocent audio receptors about!"

"He lives with me," Zuru said, accurately determining he meant Roks and dropping his hand to his Medabot's shoulder. "He's used to it."

Metabee cackled. "Oooh the poor thing." Shaking his head, he waved his sword in Ikki's general direction, or at least where he thought he was. "Nah man, boy's not that creative."

"Or self-defeating," Zuru added.

Metabee pointed the sword at Zuru again briefly, then went back to waving it towards Ikki's theoretical location. "That too! He came as a ninja. Pirates versus ninjas, you know?"

Zuru nodded. "Ah, so that's why I haven't seen him."

"Don't give him too much credit," Metabee said, voice lowered disparagingly. "You'll inflate his ego. Oh!" He interrupted himself and pointed at Zuru again. "Speaking of not seeing someone, didn't Tyelbeetle come with you guys? Or does he think he's too good for us?" He said the last part mockingly.

"Oh, no, he's here," Zuru said quickly. "But I asked him to get me some punch a few minutes ago and he still hasn't returned. I think we both forgot he's lacking hands tonight, but he's not willing to admit defeat." He tilted his head, looking off to the side in thought. "Well, I suppose he doesn't have those either."

It took a moment, but Metabee snickered. "Har, har, 'da feet'. Very funny. So, what, he came as Gorem-2 tonight? I guess that's kinda ghostly."

"Yes."

"As Tyrelbeetle," Roks supplied, earning a confused look from Metabee.

"Uh. Which is it then?"

Zuru and Roks looked at each other, then said simultaneously, "Yes." A moment of basking in Metabee's confusion later, Zuru relented and added with a chuckle, "You'll see."

Metabee narrowed his eyes. "Man. Cryptic much?" With a sigh, he bapped Roks upside his be-hatted head with his sword lightly in farewell. "I gotta split. Gotta keep my rival in check, y'know. A pirate's work is never done!"

"Knowing Ikki," Zuru said, "he's probably plundering the buffet table."

"Right?!" Metabee all but shouted. "Dude can't even stay in character! C'mon man!" Then he dropped the affronted act and looked thoughtful a moment. "Ooh I hope there's oil shakes..." With renewed vigor, he held his toy sword in the air. "Ahoy, mateys, it's aboot time we set sail o'er them tharr seas!" Then he lowered his arm to point at Zuru one last time, lowering his voice with it almost conspiratorially. "I'll keep an eye out for Ty. Give him a /hand/, hurr hurr!"

Zuru feigned a long-suffering expression at the pun. "Uhuh. Thanks."

Then Metabee ran off, and Roks leaned over to watch him around Zuru until he disappeared into the crowds. After a moment, though, a shout of "THARR SHE BLOWS!" reached them and Roks stood up straight again.