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archiveikemen · 1 year

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Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 21 (Crazy Love)

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

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Liam: I don’t ever want to disappear before your eyes again.

The pair of rose coloured eyes staring at me contained a passion I had never seen before.

I noticed a change in Liam that was small, yet definitely there.

Liam: Hey, Kate.

Liam: I couldn't take your hand back then. But—

Liam: But…

While his face contorted as he tried to force out the words that were caught in his throat, I shook my head.

(He’s referring to the time he tried to end his own life.)

Kate: You don’t have to force yourself to say something. When you’re ready, you can tell me.

Liam: … Tell you?

Kate: Yes. Things like… what’s on your mind, what’s making you happy, or what’s hurting you.

Kate: I’ll wait for you. Don’t worry, patience is one of my biggest strengths.

Liam: … Mm. Thanks, Kate.

I nodded and we looked up at the night sky together.

The small changes in Liam were like faint lights of hope twinkling in the sky.

…

The next day, Liam and I went to The Scala to discuss William’s plan with everyone there.

(Hm? It's unusually quiet today.)

The practice room was usually bustling with actors doing their rehearsals, but today it was filled with silence.

Liam and I went backstage, and saw Tom looking at the script in his hand all alone.

Liam: … Tom?

Tom: … Liam.

Tom’s eyes widened and he ran to pull Liam into a tight hug.

Tom: Liam! Ahh, I’m so glad you're safe. If anything were to happen to you, I would’ve—!

Liam: I’m so sorry, Tom. I…

Tom: It’s alright. You're back in one piece and that’s all that matters.

(Tom must have so many questions, but he’s holding them back…)

Liam: Are you the only one here today, Tom? Where’s everyone else?

Tom: I actually wanted us to carry on with rehearsals while waiting for your return, but your absence made everyone unmotivated.

Tom: So I decided to give everyone a break until you’re back.

Tom: The Scala very seldomly goes on break. That makes you everyone’s superstar!

Liam chuckled in response to Tom’s teasing yet kind words.

Tom: Anyway, did the two of you come today just to show your faces? You seem like you have something to tell me, but—

We slowly explained our plan to Tom.

There was a dangerous organisation in England known as ‘Golden Butterfly’ that was once annihilated. However, it had recently been showing signs of a potential revival caused by an unknown instigator.

As the identity of the instigator remained a mystery, our plan was to use The Scala to spread word of it to all of England and put a stop to its revival.

Tom: … I see. I have a general understanding of the plan, and that you don't want this ‘Golden Butterfly’ to revive.

Tom: However, Liam and Kate, how did you obtain this information and why do you want to stop them?

(The Scala must never know about my job as a fairy tale writer and the existence of Crown.)

(In order to protect them… we mustn't reveal any more details.)

Liam: I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t tell you that.

Liam: But… I don’t want people to be burdened by any more unnecessary suffering.

Tom: …

Liam: I swear to protect you and everyone at The Scala. … I absolutely will.

Liam: Therefore, will you help us…?

Kate: … I plead for your help as well. Please help us.

Tom: Lift your heads, both of you. I don’t see any reason why I… no, both myself and The Scala should refuse to cooperate.

Kate: Really?

Liam: … Really?

Tom: Yeah. I believe that people's thoughts have the ability to change them, and that’s why I named this place ‘The Scala’.

Tom: This is the perfect opportunity to show The Scala’s true spirit, isn’t it? We must make good use of it!

Tom: Also… I’m glad to have you asking me for a favour. This has never happened before.

Liam: … Tom

Tom clapped his hands together to dispel the sentimental atmosphere.

Tom: Now that it’s been decided, we should start thinking about how we're going to spread word about ‘Golden Butterfly’ through theatre.

Kate: Firstly and most importantly, I think we have to be able to get the audience’s attention. A well-known play would easily do that…

Tom: You’re right, I was thinking the same thing. We should integrate ‘Golden Butterfly’ into a performance that will captivate people's interest.

Liam: Are you saying that we’ll alter an existing story to include ‘Golden Butterfly’?

Tom: That’s right! — I think that ‘this’ would be the most suitable.

Tom gave us the script in his hands.

(‘Hamlet’...?)

Kate: … ‘Hamlet’, one of the four tragedies of Shakespeare?

Liam: As expected of you, Kate. I’ve only ever heard about its name and nothing more. What’s the story about, Tom?

Tom: It’s a story about a prince named Hamlet who seeks revenge on his uncle who murdered his father, took the throne, and wedded his mother.

Tom: You’ve heard the line ‘to be or not to be. that is the question.’, right?

Liam: … A story about revenge.

Tom: ‘Hamlet’ may be a story about revenge, but I believe that its true meaning lies elsewhere.

Tom: To me, the story tells us that if someone wants to live, they have to be strong and endure all their suffering.

Tom: I was reading the script while waiting for you to come back, and thought that you absolutely had to play this role.

Tom: Liam, endure the hardships as Hamlet. And after that, play Quasimodo in ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’.

(Tom wants Liam to persevere through struggles as Hamlet, then be successful as Quasimodo.)

Liam nodded.

Liam: … Yeah, let’s do ‘Hamlet’.

Tom: That’s great! Now I shall work on the script, and then we’ll let the others know…!

Kate: Let me know if there's anything I can help you with, anything at all!

Tom: Haha, you’re very dependable, Kate. Alright then, first of all—...

…

The days that followed were busy enough to make our heads spin.

Members of the theatre troupe readily agreed to participate in our plan, and that marked the start of a period of intensive rehearsals.

Despite that, watching ‘Hamlet’ gradually take shape gave us an indescribable feeling of accomplishment and joy.

— In the meantime, there was an unexpected visitor at The Scala.

Troupe Member: Excuse me… you can’t just barge in like this! Excuse me!

Kate • Liam: …?

I gasped when I saw what was written on the armbands of the visitors as they forced their way into the theatre.

(‘The Shadow’... the gossip magazine that published the cover article about Liam…!?)

Not only were there journalists from The Shadow, a number of them from other magazine and newspaper publishers had also infiltrated into The Scala.

I instinctively hid Liam behind my back to protect him.

(I won’t let them hurt Liam ever again. I’ll protect him no matter what.)

— To my surprise, that wasn’t the case.

Magazine Journalist: We’re here to cover your theatre’s next production! It’s called ‘Hamlet’, is that correct?

Newspaper Journalist: We’ll be here on the actual day of the performance as well, and we’re looking forward to seeing the exciting play. Ah, could you allow us to take pictures of you during your rehearsal?

(Huh…?)

Liam: Could it be…

Liam looked up at the second floor of the theatre — where Harrison was standing.

Harrison noticed us looking at him and left with a smug smile.

Liam: Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back…

…

Liam: Harry, wait! Harry!

Harrison, who was walking through the town square that was dyed crimson red by the setting sun, turned around.

Harrison: What, you actually came after me? Dealing with interviews from journalists is your job, Liam.

It was clear that Harrison was the reason why the journalists were there to interview Liam.

However great the performance may be, its influence would be limited if it didn't go beyond the theatre’s usual audience.

(And if that happens, there’s a chance we wouldn't reach the person behind the revival of ‘Golden Butterfly’, hiding somewhere in England.)

(Therefore, Harrison made use of his connections to the media to create a buzz.)

Liam: Harry, I…

Harrison: It’s all up to you now, Liam. I have high expectations for you.

With that, Harrison walked away and left Liam standing there, staring.

The casual ‘I have high expectations for you’ was more of a ‘do your best’.

Thanks to the newspaper and magazine articles, word spread throughout England about ‘Hamlet’ even before the day of the performance.

Rehearsals grew more intense after being motivated by that, and the opening night gradually came—.

…

Everyone from The Scala was gathered at a tavern to give themselves a boost of morale before the performance.

They clinked their mugs over and over again, and I quietly left the gathering.

I stepped out onto the street, the gentle night breeze brushing against my cheeks that were flushed from the alcohol.

(... I’ve been wondering about this for a while. Why do all the actors have such incredible tolerance for alcohol?)

While I was cooling down, I saw someone slumped against the wall of a nearby shop.

Kate: … Tom?

Tom: Oh, Kate. Haha… I’m not a very good drinker. Just trying to sober up.

Kate: Perfect timing, then. Let me join you.

Sitting down next to each other, we looked up at the night sky.

Kate: … Um, I’d like to thank you.

Tom: What for?

Kate: For many things concerning Liam. It’s probably rather odd for it to be coming from me, but I just wanted to tell you that.

Tom: Actually, I wanted him to play the role of Hamlet for my own sake.

Kate: What…

Tom: Take this as just some rambling coming from a drunkard, yeah?

Tom: When I first met Liam, it was in the audience seats at The Scala. Oh, judging by the look on your face, you’ve heard about this before?

Kate: Yes. He happened to see a play with no one watching in the audience… and all the characters in the story died in the end.

Tom: That’s right. Back then, I was still struggling and constantly trying new things. It felt like the entire world was criticising me.

Tom: That day, although the play had such a tragic end… Liam remained in the audience even after the performance ended.

Tom: He sat there all alone, staring at the stage. And before I knew it, I approached him.

– Flashback Start –

Tom: Excuse me, you over there.

Liam: … Erm, me?

Tom: Yes, you. Hey, are you interested in theatre?

– Flashback End –

(... He must've felt so happy when Tom approached him like that.)

Tom: Liam’s growth as a stage actor was impressive. His progress was also The Scala’s progress.

Tom: Watching The Scala grow greater and greater made me so, so happy…

Tom: And that's why, even though I knew… I turned a blind eye to it.

Kate: Turned a blind eye to…?

Tom: The dark side of Liam’s talent, which is his ability to completely immerse himself in the roles he plays, as if he and the character have become one person.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil main story #liam main story

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gayskogul · 8 months

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Wip snippet

Thank you for the tag, @renaultphile I have to admit that I'm not working on any writing for TC right now, sorry girlies, but I am working on something just as homosexual! It's the story of a young Paladin-in-training, and the fledgling Cleric who has been made to tutor him in the ways of the magic. So, stay tuned if you like fantasy and knights and magic and homoerotic devotion! I've a bunch of chapters written already but I'm not keen to start uploading bits until I have a whole act ready to go, but I plan to start posting these stinkers up on Ao3 very soon! Anyway, this is a snippet from an early scene that I quite liked.

[5-ish mins reading time]

“It’s really quite a simple trick,” said Arthur, spreading his cloak out underneath him on the tree stump. “We learn to do it early on in our training. You just have to open yourself up, and really…” Arthur noticed a wave of confusion sweep across the other man’s face. “You can feel the Light, can’t you?”

Oliver bit at his lower lip. He nodded, after a moment. “I think so, yes. Sergeant Wheatley—the practice instructor, that is—said that I wield it in combat. But off the training field…”

“Nothing?”

Oliver pushed a brown lock of hair back from his face, a twinge of frustration in the gesture. “Not even a glimmer.”

Arthur took the leaf that had fallen from the poplar branches above them, then held it in his hand, palm up. He focused for a moment, reaching out for the Light, then let it wash over the leaf. With a barely audible puff, it floated a couple of inches above his outstretched hand.

“Do you see it?” asked Arthur. “The Light.”

Oliver craned his neck, eyeing the leaf warily, as if it was some monstrous enemy upon the battlefield. After a long silence, he murmured, “No.”

Arthur felt his heart sink into his stomach. Had the Order made a mistake? The leaf did a sudden nose-dive, plummeting as the spell fed off of his momentary doubt. But he bolstered the enchantment, steadying it before it could drop to the floor and become lost amongst the foliage. “Look closer. Try again.”

Oliver shifted closer, leathers creaking as he bent down at the waist. “Hold on…” he breathed. He squinted at it for a moment, then nodded. “It’s hard to see, but yes, I think that’s it! Little threads of… is that the Light? You can really see it?”

“Good,” said Arthur, relief making the word come out sounding choked. For most people, those would not be visible. Not that they were visible per se, but those with some attunement to the Light were able to sense it. It was a sixth sense of sorts. Oliver’s ability to perceive them meant that he was indeed familiar with the magic, and had most likely been told the truth that he’d used it in his sparring, and most importantly, this wasn’t a waste of time for everybody involved, the poor lad included.

Arthur released the spell. The leaf flopped back onto his hand. “Now that you saw how it’s done, have a go."

Oliver stared at the leaf. His brows knit together in concentration, and he pressed his lips together so forcefully that they went white. A minute passed. Then another. A crow called in the distance, and was answered by a flight of unimpressed-sounding wood pigeons.

Long-held breath exploded out of him. He turned away rigidly. “I can’t.”

Oliver looked like he’d just been in a fight, all tense and coiled up like a spring. The sight made Arthur frown. That just wouldn’t do, he thought, idly running a finger across the edge of the leaf.

“It’s alright. Not everyone gets it right away.” Arthur put his chin into his hand. He rolled the stalk between the ends of his fingers. “Let’s try something else. What do you know about spells?”

A blank look was all the only response he got.

“I see. Then have you ever managed to purposefully channel the Light?”

Oliver shook his head glumly. “I don’t think so.”

“What about when you’ve done it whilst fighting? When you use it then, how does it feel?”

“I’m not sure. But when I’m paired up with some of the other recruits—the ones who cheat, or fight dirty, or the ones I know that bully the younger boys, everything feels… different.” Oliver sat up straighter. He shook his head, as if clearing it of cobwebs. “Each step is more certain. Each sword form feels like it’s always the correct one to use, like... like it would be impossible for it to miss. Winning the bout would be something pure and correct. I think that might be the Light: searing hot and sharp, and full of purpose!”

The words were stirring. They'd made Arthur inadvertently lean closer to the other man. He subtly clawed himself back into a more relaxed posture before Oliver could notice. Of course, the answer sounded like one a paladin would give, and certainly some of the more zealous priests too. But there was more to it than that. The Light could be burning hot, but it could also be a soothing warmth. He wondered whether Oliver had realised that, surrounded as he was by people who were so devoted to the art of battle. His gaze swept across the newest bloodstain on the squire’s trousers, and an idea came to him.

“Hold out your hand,” said Arthur, “the one you pricked on the briarthorn.”

Oliver gave him a curious look, but obeyed. Slowly, he reached out his hand and uncurled his fingers, one by one. They were long and knobbly, and his thumb jutted out awkwardly. There was still a spot of bright crimson at the tip of the ring finger, and a darker patch where blood had mixed with the dirt on his hand and dried there.

Arthur had proved that Oliver could see the Light. Now it was time for a different experiment. “Alright. Close your eyes,” he said.

“What are you up to?” asked Oliver warily.

“Do you trust me?”

There was a long moment of silence. Grey eyes flicked up to bore into him for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Oliver cocked his head slightly and said, “I do.” He shut his eyes. Thick lashes caught the sun.

Arthur brought his heels to the tree stump below him, using the motion to counterbalance leaning forwards to reach out to the other man. “In a second,” he said quietly, “I’m going to touch your hand, if that’s alright.”

“Understood.”

In the soft, calm voice that he reserved for the more delicate procedures, Arthur continued. “After that, I’m going to try something. I want you to focus on how it feels.”

Oliver hummed an affirmative.

“Alright. No peeking.”

By now, Arthur had cast healing spells countless times throughout his training, on many hundreds of different people. But this time, for the first time in years, he was nervous. It could have been some reticence at calling upon the Light to heal so superficial a cut—it was indeed wasteful to heal such a small pinprick. Or perhaps some lingering anxiety from being uprooted from his home so suddenly and sent across the continent. It could have been a fear of upsetting the young paladin again and wiping away the softness that had spread across his face when his eyes shut, and looked so at-home there. Regardless of its cause, healing magic required a particular state of mind to be effective, and the way his pulse had decided to quicken was not helping.

He took the outstretched hand. When his fingers brushed against Oliver’s palm, a tremor run through the other man.

“Sorry,” said Oliver, smiling. “I wasn’t quite expecting it yet.”

“Oh. Apologies.”

“It’s alright. Go on. Please.”

If one were to observe the elegant skin of Oliver’s face, his neck, and his arms, one might be convinced into believing that his hands would be just as fine. This was not the case. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There were bumpy calluses on his palm, hardened little hills and valleys worn into his hand by years of hard work, and recently long hours of combat drills. It was undoubtedly a strong hand, but it had an unspoken gentleness about it. The paladin's hands were quite pretty in their own way, he thought.

Despite his trepidation, it only took a moment for Arthur to reach out to the Light. He was very practised at it by now, after all, and it took little effort to open himself up and let the radiance fill him. He focused his efforts down, and pushed them gently onto the little snag on the skin of Oliver’s finger pad, where another crimson teardrop had blossomed. He imagined tiny threads of the Light and willed them to weave the skin closed. It took a couple of seconds to take effect. He knew it had worked, because Oliver’s brows rocketed upwards, becoming lost behind his fringe.

“You felt that?”

“Uh-huh,” replied Oliver. His lips remained parted slightly.

With his thumb, Arthur wiped the drop of blood away from the cut. The skin underneath was perfectly whole. “And?”

“I see what you mean. It went all warm, like a good blanket, or… or like sitting right at the edge of a campfire. I didn’t know it could be like that.” Oliver cracked open his eyes, looking directly at him.

Arthur shifted on his seat under the weight of that gaze. He looked away. “Good as new,” he said, dropping the hand quickly. He rocked back on his tree stump, suddenly eager to put distance between them.

Oliver flexed his hand, wiggling the fingers. “Yeah. Thanks,” he said, touching the spot where the cut used to be.

“You’ve never felt the Light like that before?”

“No. Not like that. It's beautiful. How do you…?”

“It takes some… getting used to."

-------

#wip #writing #wip snippet #warcraft oc #gay gay homosexual gay #it's fanfic in the sense that they're all my own characters that i've plopped into the wc3 world #so u dont have to know anything abt that universe to enjoy the gayboys :)#this is like. the first conversation they have with each other lol #yall know im a stickler for a homoerotic healing scene #This is not the end of the scene but i will spare yall the debate they launch into abt the nature of holy magic and its use as a tool of wa #gayskogul writes

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 2 years

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No way out: Part 3

Maya? How much longer does the upload have to go?

According to your monitor, it’s about 60% finished.

Which means we have about…10 minutes left before it’s completion.

Did you end up getting the hard drive back from those kids?

I have the wire. Kaede still has the box. Kuripa’s gone after her, but I was able to detain Shuichi. I’m on my way back-

Huh!?

*WHOOSH!*

HIYAGH!

*WHAM!*

DAGH!

Rantaro!?

*Mii-Yu uses her rocket boosters to fly Shuichi in. He leaps off her back and drop kicks Rantaro into a wall.

Sorry Maya…I’ll get back to you.

*He cuts off comms and crawls to his feet.

Mii-Yu! Fall back!

Yes!

*Mii-Yu flies away.

You sure that was a good idea? You lost your only backup.

I don’t need backup against you Rantaro. And there’s no way I’m risking you doing…WHATEVER it is you did earlier.

I’m gonna get to the bottom of your connection to her, and if I end up finding something I don’t like, you’re gonna be sorry.

Believe me…I’m already sorry enough that I made the crucial mistake of calling you here.

You did bring me a VERY interesting present though. Even if you don’t comply, maybe M11-YU will be useful here?

But she doesn’t want to be controlled by you!

It’s not a complex AI Shuichi! It doesn’t know up from down unless you tell it!

Yeah! That’s what a learning computer is! And I’m sick of hearing you treat her as anything less than a human!

It’s NOT a HUMAN!

SHE is a person! Not a tool! Sorry old friend, but I’m ending this right now! Hand me the wire, or I slap you in cuffs!

…You certainly are far more confident than I remember you being. I’m actually kind of proud of you.

What changed Shuichi?

Well…up until now, I thought the Killing Game had matured me…

But you went through two of them and it clearly didn’t mature YOU!

*WHAM!*

GAH!

*Rantaro is unprepared when Shuichi suddenly socks him round the face and hits his head into the wall behind him.

Hrgh…!

…!?

*PEW!*

*As Shuichi presses Rantaro to the wall, he swiftly moves his head out of the way as Rantaro points his gun and fires at point blank range.

HRGH!

*PEW!* *PEW!*

…!

Ah!?

*Shuichi tries to fire back, but Rantaro grabs him by the wrist and somersaults over him! With the wire firmly in his hands, he starts making a run for it!

Hah!

*BOOM!* *BOOM!*

…!

*PEW!* *CLACK!*

GAH!? WAAGH!

Tch!

*Rantaro uses his megaphone device to launch himself up a wall. He gets a fair distance, until Shuichi fires a carefully aimed shot and blasts the device, breaking it before Rantaro can use it again. Just narrow of the platform, Rantaro is just able to grab the edge of it and heave himself up before he plummets.

…!

*He looks back at Shuichi once more before he clambers to his feet and starts running. Shuichi rushes after him.

DAGH! DRUGH! DOOGH! DAAGH!

HRAGH! GACHG! NGGHA! RYAGH!

*CLINK!* *CLASH!* *SMASH!* *CLANG!*

*As the fight on the lower floors continues, both Kaede and Kuripa’s blows start to get more enraged and more violent.

RWUUGH!

HRRGH! DAGAGH!

UUGH! GRRGH!

KRGH!

WAAAHAGH!

*SLLAAAM!!*

OOOOFF!

*Kuripa clashes weapons with Kaede, and forces her arms to the ground. With her defences lowered, he delivers a nasty elbow to her face, knocking her back. Kaede swiftly recovers and thrusts her spear towards him. Unfortunately, Kuripa moves out of the way of the attack, grabs her by the torso, lifts her up and flips her over in the air, slamming her down on her back.

CHRYAGH!

HEEGH!

*CLASH!*

Grr…! TAH!

EH!?

*While she’s on the ground, Kuripa brings his blade down on her, which she raises her spear to block. Kaede thinks quickly though. She stops blocking and slides out of the way, causing Kuripa’s blade to hit the ground next to her. In a single swift motion, she throws her spear, and rolls back over to her original position, pinning Kuripa’s hand to the ground with her arm.

*WHOOOSH!*

GAH!?

GUHUP!

*Kuripa notices at the last second as the spear flies back around, soaring straight at him while he’s stuck. Thinking fast, he delivers a hefty kick to Kaede and knocks her back, jumping backwards to avoid being skewered. The spear flies back to Kaede’s hand as it misses it’s target.

That all you got!?

You’re the one out of breath kid…

I’m also the one who has the hard drive. I thought you wanted this thing.

…Don’t make it harder for me to resist the urge to kill you…!

*pant!* *pant!* *pant…* *pant…*

*Rantaro continues running, aiming to make it back to the download room before Shuichi can catch him.

*PEW!*

GOOGH!

Going somewhere…!?

*Rantaro frantically looks around for an escape route, but somehow fails to spot Shuichi catch up to him. Shuichi aims and shoots an electric bullet straight into Rantaro’s shoulder.

GRGH!

*PEW!*

!!?

*Rantaro tries to run for the door, but Shuichi thinks one step ahead. He aims and shoots the button to the door, slamming it shut before Rantaro can run through it.

TURN AND FIGHT ME YOU COWARD!

GRRGGHH!

*PEW!* *PEW!* *PEW!* *PEW!* *PEW!*

HAH!

*WHAM!*

GRGH! RAGH!

*SMACK!*

OHUGH!

*Left with no other option, Rantaro cocks his gun, turns around, and charges at Shuichi. They both start firing at each other, and then start throwing punches when they get close enough!

Hyagh!

KRGH!

WOAH!

DAAGH!

*SLAM!*

GUUHUGH!

*Rantaro lunges at Shuichi, holding his gun with both hands and attempting to whack Shuichi around the head with the barrel. Shuichi retaliates however; he grabs Rantaro’s wrists and flips him over him, slamming him to the ground.

Ngh…Huh?

DRRAAAGGH!

*WHAM!*

DOOOOAHH!

*Rantaro quickly scrambles to his feet, but only does so in time to see Shuichi charge at him with his head lowered. Shuichi tackles Rantaro and sends the both of them flying over the balcony. The clatter and roll along the ground.

GRRGH…

Hoo…

Thank you Tenko…!

*Rantaro winces in pain, while Shuichi gets to his feet and goes in for another round.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #oc #hyper danganronpa h2o #hdrh2o #danganronpa new world order #drnwo #shuichi saihara #kaede akamatsu #miiyu #m11-yu #kuripa kurafto #rantaro amami #maya canzanilla #the monster in me arc

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lilysdaydreams · 4 years

Text

For Them

→ Pairing : Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre : fluff.

→ Warnings : Swearing, Reader panicking a bit.

→ Request : Heya! I was thinking maybe a corpse x reader where the reader is playing among us with him and the gang and they use the proximity mic and he walks past her to hear her singing and she’s kept her singing like a MAJOR secret because she’s shy about it- idk you don’t have to do it if ya don’t feel like it it’s just an idea 💛

→ A/N : Oh my god, did Lily finally finish writing something??? YES SHE DID. Pretty happy with this, so I hope you guys enjoy as well! Sorry for any spelling mistakes :) Requests are open!

~~~

You grabbed the water on the table, moving to the side and out of the camera to quickly take a few sips. You could hear the rest of the group still yelling about the previous game. You laughed quietly hearing Peter and Rae yell at each other.

Looking over at chat you hummed as you took in the questions.

"How much longer am I streaming?" you read out the question.

"Probably a few more games. Maybe like 30 more minutes. I wanna go get dinner soon." you mumbled as you kept on scanning the chat.

A random question caught your eye.

"Do I sing?" you read out with a laugh.

"Wow, that's such a random question oh my god. Um, I used to want to be a singer when I was a kid," you started leaning back in your chair. You looked at the ceiling reminiscing and chuckled when you remembered the concerts you used to throw for your parents.

"I used to get my parents to be the audience and I would sing all my different songs for them. When they weren't free, I would do it for all of my plushies on my bed. Oh my god, I probably have old videos in the basement or something."

You smiled wistfully, looking back onto the screen.

"Those were good times," you muttered.

Looking back onto chat, your eyes widened at the amount of "SING FOR US" messages.

"Woah guys, calm down, that was when I was a kid. I don't sing seriously you know that right?" you questioned, laughing at how fast the chat was going.

"Okay okay," you said smiling when they didn't stop. "Lemme ju- Oh wait" you cut yourself off seeing the words "IMPOSTER" light up your screen.

"LETS GOOOOO" you yelled, turning your mic on again for the game. Everyone's voice slowly faded as people went different ways. You stuck with Lily, both of you going straight to medbay.

"Lilyyyyy" you said dragging her name out.

"Y/N" she said doing the same to you.

You giggled, and asked her if she had med scan.

"Nope, I have the inspecting the sample one."

"Ohh okay," you said getting on the med scan and pretending to scan. You watched as Lily finished her task, saying a quiet "bye" and rushing off to the next task.

You sighed, moving off the scan and starting to walk towards weapons. "Lily's so nice, I'm so glad I got to meet her through this. Like, she's the absolute sweetest I swear, I'm hoping that I get to m-" you got cut off by a body being reported.

"Already?" you asked, others echoing. You gasped when you saw who was killed, immediately whining about how someone could kill Sykunno, while playfully glaring at Sean's name, who was the other imposter.

"Okay, so the body was at reactor," revealed Rae.

"I was in the cafeteria, going towards weapons. Me and Lily were in Medbay before but she left before me," you said leaning back.

Lily confirmed this, also stating that she was in weapons now.

Sean, Corpse and Felix all said they were in Electrical, and Poki said she'd been in storage.

You looked at the chat again, not saying anything while the rest said where they were.

The chat was still spamming "Sing please!" and you looked back to the game without giving an answer. If you were being honest, then what you had said before was a lie. You still sang. Hell, it had been your dream to release your songs ever since you started writing at 15. You had started singing by singing for your parents. Ever since their car crash though, you couldn't even think about performing for anyone else. If you couldn't even perform for them, then what was the point? For some reason, whenever you thought of singing in front of someone, you couldn't even get the words out.

You sighed and skipped voting as the timer ticked down. No one was ejected and you started humming slightly as you moved away from everyone.

"Hmm should I sing you a song everyone?" you asked your voice very low. You breathed deeply reminding yourself that technically no one was in the room with you, and it was only your fans watching, a small community of people who were the sweetest you had ever seen.

Going into reactor and moving down to the very end so that no one could see you, you breathed in deeply and started singing lightly, noticing that the lights were off, the blinking arrow in the corner of your screen.

"I think we could do it if we tried

If only to say you're mine

Sofia, know that you and I

Shouldn't feel like a crime

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you

Standin' here alone now, think that we -"

"Y/N what the fuck your voice is -"

You screamed before the person could even finish what they were saying, hitting the "kill" button without even realising, and letting out a gasp when you saw the black body flop over.

"Oh god, oh my god, what did I do?" you whispered staring at Corpses body, half of your brain freaking out over the fact that he had heard you and the other freaking out what to do. You quickly vented, coming out in electrical and pretending to do the download.

"Oh my god, guys!" you whispered furiously, playfully glaring at the camera. "This is all your fault, do you see what I did, I killed someone with my singing... I just got so scared because he came out of absolutely NOWHERE, oh my god guys." Leaving electrical, you heard someone yelling and headed closer to them laughing nervously when you found Toast and Sean yelling at each other.

"Hey guys," you said voice being unnoticed because of all the yelling and you moved into comms pretending to do a task there.

Just as you did that, Pokis body was found, and you gasped as you realised that Sean had killed three people so now there were 5 left. Toast was dead, which means that he just died, which left Sean, you, Rae, Lily and Leslie.

There was a stunned silence for a second as everyone took in the 4 kills and then Rae immediately attacked.

"Ahh, the body was in cafeteria. Like bottom cafeteria."

"Um, So I just wanna add something, I was coming from the electrical right, and I was walking to comms, and Toast just passed in the middle of storage. I came into comms and Sean is here as well.

"Yup, shes right, toast just left and she came in." confirmed Sean.

"Well, I saw Leslie at the start of the round, we stuck together and then I was with Poki for a bit."

"Yeah okay, but where were you?"

"Well, I went to weapons then I went down into comms and storage and then I went electrical when lights were called and everyone was ther-" she said cutting herself off and gasping. “Guess who WASNT there? Y/N wasn’t there!”

“Well yeah, I just thought someone else would do it” you replied. “I was all the way in upper engine and I couldn’t be bothered. You all did lights and I was doing my tasks in reactor and then I went to electrical and then I was waking to comms, and then I saw toast and then I got into comma and saw Sean. Even if I was the imposter and killed Toast, I definitely couldn’t have been able to kill Poki.”

“Yeah no, I still think it’s you,” said Rae after a pause, Leslie and Lily both giggling at her.

Lily chimed in then as well, “Yeah I haven’t seen y/n this whole round at ALLLLL, so I think its her as well."

Ignoring your protests, they all voted you out, and you shrugged at the camera as your character was thrown off the ship.

"I think I'm okay with that guys, I was way too nervous to still play," you muttered, now looking at the chat.

"Guys," you whined suddenly remembering. "I was only meant to sing for you, I didn't want anyone else to hear it, Corpse literally came out of nowhere. I hope he wasn't deafened by my screeching," you grimaced.

The word "Victory" came onto your screen and you huffed out a laugh as the lobby exploded with noise.

"Lily! I told you it was Sean!" exclaimed Rae.

"Sean was on a killing spree," you added in, sipping your water. "I only killed like two people cuz I was distracted, I swear he literally carried the whole game.”

“He backstabbed me!” said Sykkuno and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was doing upload while he was right next to me and we were talking about how great this group was and he just killed me right there!”

Suddenly all the attention was on Sykkuno as everyone started cooing.

“Awww, Sykkuno, did you just compliment us?” Rae yelled, lots of other chiming in to tease Sykunno and him ending up stuttering because he got flustered.

“Alright guys,” you said when everyone quieted down. "I think I'm gonna go now."

"NOOOOO" yelled Rae, everyone else echoing her.

You smiled and quickly said your goodbyes, logging off the game and quickly saying bye to the viewers and ending that as well.

Slumping into your chair, your breath quickened. "Oh my god," you whispered, the realization creeping up on you that you had just sung in front of nearly ten thousand people and that Corpse had heard you sing. You and Corpse had met through Among Us with Toast inviting you to the lobby. You had fun playing with him and you'd both followed each other, but most of your interaction was in games. Like sure you'd messaged each other a few times but those were only brief conversations! and sure, maybe you had a small tiny crush on the guy but like WHO WOULDNT? He was sweet, nice and you related to him a lot. The point was, you were absolutely not ready to sing in front of him. You stood up from the chair and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm down.

Your phone rang and you grabbed it from the counter, choking on the water as you saw that it was from Corpse.

He had never called you before. Like you said you simply weren't that close.

Coughing out a "What the fuck?" you answered the call, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Hey," you said, confused when there was no sound.

"Uh yeah, Hi Y/N. Its Corpse."

"Ah yeah, I see." You facepalmed yourself, rubbing your forehead. What the fucks was wrong with you.

"Um yeah, so uh I just- You know in the game? Um I kind of - well - I kind of heard you singing, um um, that song."

You stilled, not a breath coming out of you.

"Your voice, its -" he paused, letting out a huge breath. "It's absolutely beautiful."

You opened your mouth not even sure what you were gonna say but he continued talking.

"I just, I cant get it out of my mind. Have you heard some of my music?"

"Um yeah, I-I listened to it when I first heard about you. Your songs are so good!" you exclaimed, finally being able to move your mouth

"Do you think maybe we could do a song together sometime? Your voice would be absolutely amazing on one of the tracks I'm currently working on, its a chill one that I have, kind of like Agoraphobic," he asked, rambling through the sentence.

"Um, Oh my god," you muttered, still confused on if this was actually happening. "Yeah, Yeah definitely that would be so cool."

"Oh. Oh that's great, I-I didn't think you'd agree, that's great, I can send you a sample and the lyrics but -"

"Um," you started cutting him off. "If I'm being honest," you muttered, shoulders coming up to your ears. "I'm actually really conscious about my singing. Like this was the absolute first time I ever even sang on stream, so like sorry- I'm ruining it, but this is just a bit overwhelming for me. It's a great opportunity, and if you want I can definitely try but please don't have big expectations of me okay?" you asked biting your lip slightly. "I'm not that great."

There was a second of silence and then he whispered lightly, "Even if you don't believe it, just from those 30 seconds, I could already tell how amazing your voice was."

Your breath caught but a second later he had already moved on.

"If you want to, we could do a few singing sessions together? Just mess around have some fun? That way you can get a bit more comfortable and have some fun," he suggested, voice changing to a shy one that you hadn't ever heard from him.

~~~

"Yeah sure," you agreed, smiling. "Lets try that."

3 months later, you guys finally released your song. Titled "For Them", you sang about your parents who you had loved dearly, and he sang about his parents and their distant relationship. It showed two different perspectives, two different stories, two different lives, and you both loved it so much.

The song was a success, with fans pouring into your channel and small community and well, your life. Most importantly though, along with all of it, came a mask-wearing man, who held you on the days that it was hard for you, and who you held on the nights that were hard for him.

fin.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #Corpse husband fics #corpse x y/n #please like and comment #I like validation

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chipper-smol · 3 years

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Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws

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

By @daikoski

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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By @cloudcryptid

#hollowknight #hollow knight #palejesterau #telephoneknight #the pale king #lemm #ghost #hornet

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20moonchild21 · 3 years

Text

𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝘄𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝗹𝗱? [𝗸𝗻𝗷]

⇉ 𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁

[pairing]

Kim Namjoon x female!reader, Idol!Namjoon x wife!reader

[warnings]

none, just fluff

[words]

1.3k

[author]

No new chapter of 𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 this week. I am so so sorry, but I really couldn’t find the time to write a new chapter. I want to do that properly and not under pressure. I hope you can understand.

My exams will be over next week, and then I definitely will be back with 𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 💪🏼😌 Until then, I hope you like to read this cute oneshot. I had it saved on my computer but never uploaded it.

I also got a lot of messages recently that people would love to leave a message more often (not just under my chapters) but are too scared to make mistakes. English is also not my native language, and I am a 100% sure that I also make a lot of mistakes while writing. But believe me, no one cares if you do a grammar mistakes or if miss a letter. It’s so important to always be brave and speak/write a foreign language, even if that means to make mistakes. That’s the only way to improve your skills. Your message will always be heard as long as you are brave enough and express yourself 💜 it’s no shame to do mistakes.

Enjoy reading and stay healthy

Mꨄ

You watched as your husband, Namjoon, carefully slide his big hand over your baby bump, lifting his hand from time to time to push his half round glasses up the bridge of his nose , and resting them back onto you tummy. In his other hand, he was holding one of his favourite books, flickering the pages, while you were just checking your phone for new baby clothes.

You had never believed your friends how crazy you could get over some small baby clothes until you had become pregnant the first time. It was just so breath-taking to hold those tiny, little pieces of clothing in you much bigger hand, knowing that soon there would be a tiny human wearing them. But as excited as you were for your third baby to arrive, you also knew that from that moment your life would become even more stressful.

Just like the end of that stressful week that finally had ended for the both of you. Being pregnant with your third child sometimes made it hard for your body to give it’s full energy all day long, leaving you often exhausted and powerless. Especially, when there also were two other small toddlers running around the house and making a mess out of it.

You loved your both daughters endlessly. From the first moment you had held their tiny bodies in your arms, you had been falling in love every day again. But despite all aspects you loved about you two children, you sometimes wished that they would not have their father’s energy and urge to move. They could run around the apartment for hours, they could play hide and seek round after round after round, and they definitely could never get tired of braiding your hair or painting your nails all day long.

You couldn’t even blame them. After all, they were you a couple of years old. They were just trying to learn about the world around them, not understanding that your body was occupied with growing another living being.

In such moments, you were just more than relieved that you had your wonderful husband Namjoon by your side. Even though with his sometimes hectical idol life, he had always managed and made sure to support your whenever he could. He would go shopping for you when your feet had felt swollen and heavy, he would play with your two daughters in the living room when you had felt tired and exhausted, or he would just do simple things like giving you a nice message with his big hands whenever your back had hurt.

Totally absorbed in the thoughts about your husband, you didn’t noticed that you had been staring at him from the side all the time.

“See something you like, pretty girl.” He asked in his deep voice, before turning his head to look at you. His right hand never left your baby bump.

“Yes, that lamp over there at the drawer looks pretty nice.” You mumbled, leaning your elbow on the armrest of the sofa and placing your head on your hand, looking lovely at the boy in front of you.

Namjoon turned his head to look at the lamp behind him, before he looked back at you and began to chuckle slightly. Seeing his beautiful dimples and cute cringles left you no other choice but joining in into his laughers.

Most people said that those small moments with each other would get lost once you are married and once you have children, but your relationship had never been affected by that. You had always found way to take time for just the two of you, even if it only had been a meal you both created together.

“By the way, I have to tell you something.” He suddenly closed his book and looked excitingly in your way. “Do you remember that set of plates we found a few weeks ago, but they were already sold out when we wanted to order them? I stumbled over them again this morning, and they were available again. I hope you still want them, because I ordered them as soon as I saw that advertisement.”

You gasped in surprise. When the two of you had found out that you would expect another child, you had decided to finally muck out all that old stuff that you had kept from years ago. The kitchen was your current task to finish. You had found that new set of plates a few weeks ago and immediately, you had fallen in love with it, as well as Namjoon.

“Are you for sure?” You smiled at him, lifting your hands to give your husband a strong high five. “That’s freaking amazing. You are the best, yeobo (honey).”

Namjoon laughed again when you used the softened form of your expletive that you would also you use in front of your daughters. He carefully put his hand back on your swollen bump, leaning over to give you a kiss on the forehead, before turning his attention back towards his book.

The room fell in a comfortable silence again, as you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. It made you proud that your husband was so ambitious and caring about making yourselves a real home. Most people would believe that with his job, he would be more than occupied with himself rather than with your family but luckily, it was quite the opposite.

“Aein.” The sudden movement of your husband made you lift your head from his shoulder, watching as his closed his book, before he looked down at you with a somehow shocked expression. “Did we – did we just get excited about a set of – plates?”

Confused, you kept looking on your husband with wide eyes, trying to bring his words and actions together, until it finally hit you.

“Oh my god. Yes we did.” You whispered in shock, sitting up straight. “We just got excited about a set of plates. What did just happen.”

With your hand still placed on his chest, you both kept looking at each other. Namjoon and you had been together for more that 5 years now, but you had known each other for countless years before. You had been through high school together, and you had definitely been through some adventures and crazy times together.

Those teenager-times had gone by and the both of you had come together. You both had built up a strong relationship, even though you both had to manage your careers meanwhile. But that never meant that you had become boring in some way. Sneaking out at the dorms at night or wild make-out scenarios during his dance breaks had only been two examples of how you had developed together.

Even more year had went by and suddenly, you had become pregnant, bringing both, Namjoon and you, over the moon. That had been the moment you had finally grown up fully together, which was exactly the situation you found yourselves in right now, getting excited over a set of plates.

Meanwhile, Namjoon had broken away from his shock stare. He carefully took your hand away from his chest and brought it up towards his mouth, placing a big kiss on the soft skin.

“Oh my love.” He mumbled, lifting his gaze to meat yours. “I think we are getting old, hm?”

Even though such a realisation was hard to do, it somehow felt right to start that mew chapter in your lives together. Even though if that meant to be excited about a bunch of plates.

“It seems so.” You whispered back, leaning forward until your forehead were touching. “Next time we will get excited is about our new dentures.”

Namjoon chuckled slightly, before bending down to kiss your lips.

“As long as you are by my side when I get those dentures, I will always be excited about it.”

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sleep3deprived · 4 years

Text

2:32 AM - Drabble

Warnings: cheating, somewhat toxic relationship, intrusive/self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of sex

Word count: 526

“You don’t love me!” You scream at your boyfriend with hurt coating your voice.

“Yes, I do! It was one mistake! Just let me explain…” Atsumu begged you.

Maybe you did something wrong for everything to end up this way. Maybe you were the issue. You should’ve done better, been more involved.

Well, whatever it was, you didn’t expect to be cheated on by your boyfriend, recently fiancé, since your second year of high school.

“No, Atsumu, you don’t. Because if you did, you would not have been in bed with someone else! What’s there to explain?” You screamed back at him.

No, you refuse to put negative thoughts in your head. You did everything right. You were supportive of his volleyball career while you sacrificed your own. You stayed by his side, came to his games, came home and made him food. You thought of your future when he didn’t.

“Get out.” You say to him.

“What?” Atsumu stared at you, panic filling his eyes at the realization of his mistake. Or maybe even mistakes. You don’t know.

“I said, get out. I can’t bear the sight of you right now. Leave.” You speak loudly, making sure your voice doesn’t falter to show your vulnerability.

“You can’t mean that...I live here too. C’mon babe, let’s talk this out. Please…” Atsumu continues trying to reason with you.

You look at him in disbelief. How could he say that after what he’s done? You can’t just beg your way for a relationship after destroying it in the first place.

You stared at Atsumu, noticing he wasn’t going to budge. “No, we can’t. You cheated on me, Miya,” Atsumu felt weird when his last name left your mouth. It was a stinging feeling in his heart when he heard it come from you, oddly enough. This is for real. “You know what? Fine, if you won’t leave, I will.”

Atsumu noticed you moving and quickly protested. He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt so late at night and figured it’s better he leave than you. “Wait! No, I’ll leave.”

A few moments later, Atsumu left you. This led you to some peace and quiet to your own thoughts.

Slowly by slowly, everything started to sink in. The argument, finding him in bed with another, him constantly hiding the fact he was cheating, the toxic behaviour both of you got accustomed to, the kind words he told you, his comfort, him. Everything.

You walked into your, or what was once your shared room, and over to your mirror and stared at someone you couldn’t recognize. This wasn’t you. Their hair was messy, mascara running down their face and red and puffy eyes. Is this how you always looked?

You thought back to how you acted in your relationship. You were no different from him. You were probably just as distant. Sometimes you did neglect him. You just never cheated, that was your only difference. You guess you can’t really figure he cheated, it was bound to happen with the way your relationship went.

Everything started to make sense. Your insecurities took over your mind along with the mistakes and holes that were once in your relationship.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, you understand why.

Note: Hello loves! Here’s a litte angsty Atsumu drabble. I couldn’t think of any of character to do this on, so I settled for ‘Tsumu baby.

This is also poorly written and edited, so don’t mind it.

This was based on a Tiktok of opening and ending lines to use in a story and got inspired. For those who don’t understand, the final sentence refers to the first dialogue in from the drabble. I would show the Tiktok where I got the idea, but for some reason won’t let me upload. I’ve never written a drabble or time stamp before, so if there is an issue, please let me know and I will be happy to fix it! Also, this does contain self doubt and insecurities and I actually don’t like writing that kind of stuff and this somewhat makes no sense, but that’s the only way my brain worked to get the story to end that way. However, if you ever do feel this way, don’t be shy to let someone know, or DM me and I will gladly answer to help you out! You’re never alone and are valid.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading!

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atzsslut · 4 years

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「6:37PM」 → In which the boy’s volleyball captain, Joshua Hong, walks you home after accidentally hitting you with the ball. And you find out a little more about him. | fluff

note: i am having a block with my upcoming fanfics so pls dont be shocked if i upload timstamps out of the blue :-)

“I’m genuinely so, so sorry.” Joshua apologized again, and again, it’s been around 25 times since he said his first apology.

“It’s fine, seriously!” you said, assuring to yourself that you would’ve let anyone off easy, and not because you had a crush on him.

“I usually never make a mistake like that when I’m serving.” he went on again, “I also can’t blame the wind because we were indoors..”

You laughed at his subtle joke, still holding his water bottle that had been filled with cold water against your head. Surprisingly so, the school clinic was out of ice and so this was the next best alternative.

“Maybe you can blame the bright GYM lights? They could have impaired your sight.” you did your best to make him feel better, “Also, you really didn’t have to walk me home.”

“It’s the least I can do. I live near you anyways, so it’s not much of a hassle.” you looked up to him, only to see his signature smile.

There were many reasons on why you ended up crushing on Joshua Hong. At the beginning of the year, you had promised yourself that senior year wouldn’t be different.

You couldn’t catch yourself falling for somebody who (YOU thought) was too far to reach.

And yet, here you are, having been hit by a ball that could’ve symbolized cupid’s arrow, deepening your liking towards the boy who offered to take you home in fear that you’d “get a nosebleed and collapse”.

Especially if he was the captain of the volleyball team.

In reality, you only argued for Joshua not to because you wanted to appear polite. Without a doubt, you definitely wanted him to. Besides, you were using his water bottle anyways.

Hence, you seized the opportunity,

“Let’s change the topic and ignore the bump on my head.” I really didn’t expect his upperhand serve to be that fucking hard, you thought.

“Okay,” he nodded, stepping an each closer to you, the snow under his sneakers crunching, “What’s there to talk about?”

“Is there anything you’re interested in... besides volley?” you asked, in hopes that the question wasn’t too personal.

“Uh...” he pondered, “I like singing. It’s a small hobby, I guess.”

You looked at him, surprised to say the least, not expecting that answer at all. You expected maybe another sport, or even knitting, but not singing.

You were sure he noticed that you were surprised, as he giggled at your face, looking directly in your eyes as you both continued to walk to the direction of your house.

“Is it that surprising?” he asked back, scratching the back of his neck.

“No- Wait, yes.” you were sputtering out words, “B-but not- NOT in a bad way!”

“Mhm.” he sounded like he didn’t believe you.

“No, seriously!” you gestured with both your hands, the sound of the water inside the waterbottle sloshing, “I think.. it’s lovely.”

You felt embarrassed, not meaning to make Joshua think that you didn’t think it was attractive. You tried to play it cool, but the thought of him singing to you (another scenario, like others) in your head made you gush.

You were surprised he hadn’t seen literal hearts in your eyes by now.

“Thanks.” he sounded more relaxed now, “I can send you some recordings if-“

“I’d love that!” you had cut him off. This time, you found yourself apologizing exasperatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I sounded a little too eager, huh?”

“Actually,” he furrowed his eyebrows, “I think that you’re even more eager than my mom. And she’s my number one fan.”

“I’ll be number 0 then.” you smiled.

It seemed that the flecks of snow that were falling then were frozen in time, figuratively and literally. Although the air was a crisp cold, Joshua could feel the warmth coming from you.

You started to come to volleyball practices, sitting on the bleachers as you waited for your best friend to be done. The boys and girls volley teams were back to back for sessions sometimes, hence why Joshua saw you at least twice a week (outside of classes, that is).

From then, since Joshua often focused in class, he began to see how your hair fell in your face whenever you concentrated too hard on making notes.

Or how you always carried post-its, either for passing notes or to make some written commentary.

Or how you always sent him a small, hardly noticeable but clear pursed smile to him whenever he looked your way. Small, but sweet.

Maybe, just maybe, he was just a little glad that you were hit by his ball, or else he wouldn’t have the courage to ever walk you home despite your neighbourhoods being so near.

“Here.” he pulled out his phone and earphones from his coat pocket, avoiding your gaze as he plugged in the device and opened an audio file he had kept, “I think this is one of my best.”

You took the right earphone, placing it into your ear as the other went into Joshua’s. And as the music began to play, and his voice echoed through your drums, you almsot melted into the snow.

You told yourself that you couldn’t like Joshua more than you already had. But the way he sang, much softer than his talking voice which was already like caramel, it made your heart ache, yearning for the love you lacked.

And he told himself he couldn’t like you more than he already had. But looking at how you closed your eyes, even with that menacing red spot he had caused on your forehead, absorbing his music, it made him realize that he wanted to do this with you for a thousand more times.

And as the music ended, you gave Joshua two thumbs up and a big grin, to which he responded by walking a little faster and stopping in front of you.

With a serious look on his face, fingers turning white as he gripped his phone with nerve, he breathed out and spoke;

“I’d like to walk you home everyday. Is... is that okay? If it’s not okay then that’s also okay, I don’t mean to be creepy because being creepy isn’t okay and-“

“Joshua.” you couldn’t believe it, and you also couldn’t believe you were shushing the boys volleyball captain of your dreams.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, you can. Except, you can’t only walk me home everyday because you’ll hit me with a ball everyday.”

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends? Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done.

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right?

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly.

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly.

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button.

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls.

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal.

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all. “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?”

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips.

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!”

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?”

He pouted. “Aw...”

“You damn sadist.”

“Hehe.”

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended.

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.”

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.”

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.”

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy?

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate.

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second.

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick.

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.”

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.”

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock.

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).”

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?”

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.”

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded.

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?”

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention.

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his.

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself.

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo.

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.”

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage.

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered.

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it.

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying.

“That’s what I thought.”

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~”

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could.

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild.

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath. “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing.

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up.

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.”

“Hey, no fair!”

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit.

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived.

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him.

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you.

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to.

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.”

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.”

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.”

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?”

“Mm... Ten.”

“Fuck me.”

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up.

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?”

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later.

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.”

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.”

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.”

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?”

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little.

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash.

“Wha--?”

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality.

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!”

“How about no?”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.”

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.”

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--”

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing.

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he?

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze.

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right?

All he needed to do was to ask you out.

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand.

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!”

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would.

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down.

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way.

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well?

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

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Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement.

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking.

Nice work, you did.

You’re gonna go far, kid!

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck.

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity.

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up.

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.”

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer.

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?”

“Stealing kisses now, are we?”

“Touché.”

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction.

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be.

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #aph #aph england #england x reader #aph england x reader #arthur kirkland #request #oneshot #hetalia x reader #Axis Powers Hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #alfredosauce50 #hetalia fanfic #ivan braginsky #aph russia #aph russia x reader #reader insert #x reader

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

Text

childhood friends to lovers!au

yes i am uploading these all at the same time what about it???? yeah so this the one where david is a rich kid who is “forced” to play with matteo (who is autistic in this au) but of course they become best friends because theyre soulmates so ahh i hope you like it!!!

He knows that he shouldn’t be climbing the tree.

His mom has told him at least a hundred times that he shouldn’t. She always tells him that he’s going to fall, bump his head or break his arm, and he needs to come down right this second or he’s going to bed without any dessert which is almost always enough to convince him.

He wraps his legs tight around the branch he’s on and let’s himself fall backwards, hanging with his head poking out just enough under the lowest leaves so he can see if anyone is there. He knows that Laura is doing schoolwork and his mom had been cooking something last he saw her, and he thinks it’s still too early for his dad to be home from work. His eyes scan the huge backyard, and, seeing nobody, he grins and grabs onto the branch to swing himself back up.

He stands, looking down at the dark blue velcro sneakers that he had begged for last time his mom had taken him shoe shopping, and starts walking across the branch like a tightrope. He holds his arms out, careful not to knock into any leaves or twigs jutting out at him. He gets to an upward curve in the branch and puts a foot on it.

It’s higher than he’s climbed before. Usually by this point someone has noticed that he’s gone, his mom or Laura bursting through the glass double doors that led to their backyard, yelling for him. Always calling out a name that makes him glare and wrinkle his nose. He almost loses his footing thinking about it and refocuses.

He knows what his goal is, and he’s only a couple feet away from reaching it. There’s a birds nest in the tree, high high up, that he’s been watching every morning with the binoculars his dad bought him. His mom would watch him pointing them out the window at the pretty blue bird, and one day got down on her knees next to him, pointed to it, and said, “There are going to be new baby birds in the nest soon, I saw two eggs. That mama bird is going to have two little baby birds, just like me.”

And he’s been trying to get a closer look ever since. He loves watching the birds, the whole reason his dad had bought him the binoculars in the first place, and he will spend hours just lying on his back in the grass, sunglasses (that his dad also bought him) snug over his eyes, watching the birds fly overhead.

With his mission reset in his mind, he looks up, seeing the nest close by, and only a little bit higher than he is. If he puts his foot right between those two forking branches, and shifts his weight just the right way and grabs onto that one branch at the right time, he’ll be able to look into the nest. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He plants his foot and shoots up next to the nest, grabs the branch, and shakes a leaf out of his face. When he opens his eyes he grins, and starts laughing.

He can see two little birds in the nest, and they’re ugly. Gray and fuzzy, pink bald heads, huge eyes barely open as wiggle around. He watches for a moment, wishing that he could reach out and pet one but listens to his mother’s warnings against doing such. He rebalances himself, shifting his weight onto a different foot, and almost stumbles. He gasps and catches himself quickly. He grins at how fast he was able to grab onto the branch but quickly realizes his mistake when he hears an angry squawk.

He had grabbed onto the branch with the nest, the branch strong enough not to move but his hand close enough to the nest to alert the mama bird, who had been somewhere close by the whole time. He gasps again, quickly letting go as the bird jumps closer to his hand, and starts yelling as he loses his balance enough with the surprise to start falling backwards. He hits the ground, hears a crack and the worst pain he’s ever felt shoot up his arm, and he screams until he hears his mom running out the back door.

***

He throws the biggest tantrum when the doctor, along with his parents, tell him that he isn’t allowed to play rough or run around or climb or do any of his favorite things for weeks. He doesn’t even know how long a week really is but it sounds like it might last forever, and he cries and kicks his legs the whole time they’re in the doctor’s office. It’s summer so all of his friends are going to be playing outside and riding their bikes and going swimming, and now he’s being told he can’t do any of that? It’s the most heartbreaking news a six year old could’ve gotten.

On the way home from the doctor, his parents drag him, still crying, and Laura, who’s just excited about all the fanfare, into an ice cream shop. They tell them to get whatever they want, and he orders at least four different flavors through his angry tears because he always orders for himself. He only stops crying when his dad sets down the huge paper cup of ice cream in front of him, a spoon shoved in it, and says, “Go crazy.”

After he eats until his stomach hurts his parents take him to the store, lead him to the video game section, and tell him to choose three new games. He picks fast, his Wii still so new that he only cares about getting games for that, and his eyes are completely dry by the time they get home that night.

It’s later that night that his parents tell him the news. They both come into his room to tuck him in for the night which is unusual, but he’s thrilled that he’s going to get double the attention, not even complaining like usual about Laura having a later bedtime than him. His dad sits in the big chair across from his bed, his mom settling down on the edge of his bed, both smiling at him.

“You did quite a number on yourself today, kid,” his dad starts, grinning while trying to maintain some kind of authority. His mom looks at his dad and smiles, holding back a laugh. He glares between the two, much less happy about their presence in his room if they’re just there to make fun of him.

“I just wanted to see the baby birds.” he mutters under his breath.

“Well, you have your binoculars for that,” his mom said quietly, placatingly, patting his leg, “and we have some news that might make you a bit more happy.”

He looks up at that, wondering what else his parents were going to give him. He’s no stranger to gifts and treats, but he thought that the new video games and the ice cream were going to be it. He smiles, excited for whatever else it is they have planned.

“Do you remember Mrs. Florenzi? From the restaurant?” his dad says, smiling at his mom again.

The restaurant. He frowns again, not wanting to get into the topic of his dad’s job. He doesn’t even understand what his dad does. All his other friends’ dads are lawyers, or doctors, or other big words that he doesn’t understand. His dad seems to just...own a lot of things. One of those things being his favorite restaurant, that he had purchased a few years earlier. His family went there a few times a month, and he could remember Mrs. Florenzi if he really focused. Long brown hair, kind eyes, always smiling when she sees him at a table. She’s a chef there but sometimes would sneak out of the kitchen to pinch his cheeks. He nods.

“Well, I don’t think we told you, but she has a son around your age, and she needs someone to look after him some days when she’s at work. Since I’m home, and already have two crazy kids running around,” his mom says, poking at him until he giggles, “why not take in a third?”

He tilts his head, thinking about that. He has friends, lots of them., but if he’s going to be stuck inside because of his arm, it might be fun to have a new kid around. Especially so he doesn’t have to go to Laura if he wants to play with someone else, because they fight as much as they get along. After a minute he smiles, says, “Okay!” and drops his head to his pillow as his parents laugh.

Having another boy around sounds like fun.

***

The next day, after breakfast when he’s wandering around his playroom trying to find something to do that was fun but wouldn’t cause his mom to tell him to settle down because of his arm, the doorbell rings. His head pops up, and he runs out of the room just in time to see his mom open the door.

Mrs. Florenzi is waiting on the other side, and he frowns, not seeing a kid with her. She’s smiling and greeting his mom, talking in that way that moms always do when they drop off or pick up their kids. He’s not shy, not in the slightest, but he hangs back a bit. He wants to know where this other boy is.

Mrs. Florenzi seems to notice him, and ducks down to wave, and he waves back, and then walks over and past his mom, and pushes his face out the door to look around. When the moms laugh he pulls back, kind of annoyed at that, and demands, “Where is he?”

The moms laugh again and he considers pulling the face that his mom always chides him for, pouting his lips out big and glaring so hard it makes his head hurt. He hates being laughed at by adults.

“Sorry honey, he’s a bit shy. Matteo, do you want to meet your new friend?”

That’s when he notices the small hand clutching desperately onto Mrs. Florenzi’s skirt. His mouth twists up a little; he doesn’t usually get along with shy kids. He finally sees a blond head poke out from around her, the face on it looking nervous but also a little excited. They stare at each other until Mrs. Florenzi shoves the kid in front of her.

He gets a good look. Matteo is small, scrawny even, and his shoulders are hunched in a bit, making him seem even smaller. His shoes are dirty which he hopes means that Matteo at least like playing outside, and the scratches on Matteo’s knees that match his own makes him even more hopeful. Matteo looks at him, tilting his head, not saying anything, and then he looks off to the side, his hand clenching in the hem of his shirt.

“Hi, Matteo,” his mom says, bending down so she can smile at Matteo, and then shoves him forward and introduces him.

She doesn’t do it right though. She never does. Nobody ever does. He scowls.

Mrs. Florenzi pushes Matteo forward again, into the house, and thanks his mom before leaving for the restaurant with a kiss to Matteo’s head, and something whispered in his ear. He watches the door after she leaves.

He hopes the kid doesn’t start crying.

His mom sends them off so she can do something in the kitchen, and he and Matteo look at each other. Matteo looks nervous almost, probably because of the fierce glare on his face, so he decides to clear that up before the other kid tries to say something.

“That’s not my name you know,” he says, and turns, making his way to the playroom because that’s always a good place to start with new friends, “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a name?” Matteo asks, his voice quiet, his face confused, “Then why did your mama call you that?”

He shrugs. Matteo looks uncomfortable with that answer.

“But- everyone has a name,” Matteo says as they reach the door of the playroom, his hand twitching at his side, looking up at the big door in front of them, “you have to. How am I gonna talk to you if you don’t have a name?”

He rolls his eyes, something his parents started scolding him for the second he learned how and when to do it, pushing into the playroom. Nobody really gets it. He shrugs again, and says, “I don’t know but if you call me that I’ll beat you up.”

Matteo’s eyes pop open and he looks nervous. He nods, pushing his arms out at his sides, twisting them in the air and then snapping them back down at his sides.

He nods back, glad that they got that conversation out of the way. He looks around the playroom when Matteo doesn’t say anything, trying to find something to do with this quiet boy who seems like the opposite kind of kid than he usually plays with.

“You have a Wii?” Matteo asks suddenly, pointing at the white console attached to the big TV in the room, his other hand twisting at his side. He’s smiling for the first time since he had come in, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hoping that Matteo would want to play video games with him because that’s always easy and Laura never wants to, “I got Smash Brothers when I broke my arm, do you wanna play?”

Matteo grins and nods, rocking up onto his toes and his hands flapping at his sides as the game is set up. They both settle in front of the screen in the special chairs his dad had bought for him and Laura, his a light blue (that again, he had to beg for), Laura’s a darker purple. Matteo starts rocking in the chair when he realizes that he can get the momentum to.

“I know!” Matteo calls out a little while later, after they had played enough of the game that they were joking around and laughing with each other, Matteo losing every round but having fun regardless, “We should have nicknames! I want to be Luigi!”

He snorts and asks, “Why Luigi? He’s not as cool as Mario!”

“He’s green, though, that’s my favorite color. I don’t like red.” Matteo says, shrugging and shaking his head, focused completely on the screen in front of them. He’s tapping his fingers on the controller in his hand, pressing buttons, selecting and deselecting his character.

He nods, looking at the character selection screen, thinking that if Matteo picked a Nintendo nickname, he needs to do the same. He considers a bunch of different characters before landing on one and smiling, and he turns to Matteo, proud even though Matteo doesn’t look at him.

“I’ll be Link!” he says, and Matteo turns to him, smiling just as wide.

“I like Link, he’s green too!” Matteo says, and turns back to the screen, starting the next round.

They play for hours. They switch between playing different video games and looking at Pokemon cards and playing dress up with the chest in the back corner and bothering his mom until she feeds them, and when the doorbell rings and his mom calls them both down, he thinks fast.

“Come on,” he whispers to Matteo as he grabs his arm and yanks him out of the playroom, “and don’t talk about my room.”

He opens the door and shoves Matteo in first, glancing down the stairs to see his mom standing at the door, talking to Mrs. Florenzi. Neither of them seemed to notice so he follows and closes the door quietly behind him. He tries to ignore the fact that Matteo is staring around at everything.

It’s not that his room is small, or boring, or that his bed is uncomfortable or that there are monsters hiding in his closet waiting to eat him (he’s too old to be scared of monsters). It’s just ugly. The wallpaper was put up before he was even born, when his parents first found out they were having another baby, and the pink and white flowers made his head hurt. There were lots of marks on the walls from balls he had thrown and toy rocket ships he had “launched into space”. The canopy draped over his bed was cool when he closed it, pretending that he was in a tent in the middle of a jungle, but any other time he despised it.

Matteo stands in the middle of the room, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling above them. It’s covered in those little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets, something he had begged for after seeing it on TV once. Matteo seems to get lost in his own head, still staring up but spinning in slow circles around the floor. He turns to the door when they both hear a mom voice calling them down, and Matteo’s head whips back to him and he holds a finger over his mouth.

They hide as long as they can, quietly giggling, until his mom decides to check his room even though he almost never chooses to go in there, especially not with friends. Matteo looks like he’s going to cry when he’s escorted out with Mrs. Florenzi’s hand gently pulling his, and he waves bye as the moms reassure the two that they’ll see each other the next day. His mom closes the front door and turns to him with a smile.

“So, did you two have fun?” she asks, and instead of answering he runs into her legs and hugs them.

The next morning can’t come soon enough, and when the bell rings, he jumps up from the table to answer it, ignoring his mom yelling behind him that he needs to come pick his chair back up. He unlocks the front door (he doesn’t know if his parents know he can do that) and smiles at Mrs. Florenzi, who smiles back and pinches his cheek. She greets him and he frowns at the name.

Matteo runs past her into the house, his face bright, and they run up the stairs and into the playroom before they even say hi to each other. He can hear the moms laughing fondly behind them, and he closes the door to shut them back into the little world they had created around them the day before.

“Hi Link.” Matteo giggles, a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing in a secret, and he kind of is.

“Hi Luigi,” he says back, unable to stop his own giggles from escaping, and then points to the TV and asks, “wanna play more?”

Matteo nods enthusiastically, spinning in a circle before flopping into the same chair he had sat in the day before. He starts setting the game up like usual, but frowns when he turns the TV on and doesn’t see the usual black screen with words on it that he could read if he cared enough to.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working?” Matteo asks, and he looks over, and Matteo is staring at the screen, his eyebrows drawn down. He gets up, walking closer to the screen, examining it like he could figure out how to fix it. His hands come up and start rubbing at his arms as he squints.

“My stupid sister did something and then didn’t fix it,” he muttered, and Matteo’s head whipped to him, a surprised smile on his face.

“That’s a bad word, you can’t say that!” he scolds, but he looks secretly pleased.

“I know all the bad words,” says, smirking, proud of that, “even the really bad grown-up ones.”

Matteo looks at him, awe on his face, and he starts bouncing and says, “Wow, I think you’re the coolest friend I have!”

He grins, puffs up his chest a bit. He knows he’s cool, but hasn’t ever been called the coolest before. He’s going to have to make Matteo say it again in front of Laura.

Remembering his sister, he frowns again. He thinks that Laura may have watched a DVD and then not fixed the TV after, and he doesn’t know how to make it the Wii again. He has to either go ask her to change it, or find his mom.

“I have to go get my sister,” he says to Matteo, and then points off to the cabinet containing the Pokemon cards they had looked through the day before, “you can look at those but be careful, they’re fragile.” He doesn’t really know if they are but he had heard his dad call important things that before.

Matteo nods and he walks out of the room, running down the hall to Laura’s room. He isn’t in the mood to talk to his sister when he already has a friend over, especially a friend who thinks he’s cool, but he kicks her door a couple times, bangs on it with his fist, and yells, “Laura!”

He keeps up the noise until the door is wrenched open. Laura is already glaring, her curly hair frizzed around her face making her look even angrier, and he just grins when she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at him.

“What do you want?” She asks, sneering, and he puts a frown on his face to match hers.

“You messed up the TV, and I have my new friend over, and we can’t play video games!” he sneers, crossing his own arms over his chest, “You need to fix it!”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, and stalks out of her room, shoving past him to get to the playroom. He clenches his fists and follows after her. She closes the playroom door in his face just as he gets to it, and he smacks it with his fist before yanking it open with a growl.

He sees Matteo pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. It seems like Laura hasn’t even noticed him, as she’s focused on the TV, but Matteo’s eyes are wide. He looks towards the door and places a hand flat against the wall.

“Laura, this is my super cool new friend Matteo,” he says, pointing to the boy cowering against the wall, who only presses himself more into it, “Matteo, this is my stupid ugly sister Laura.”

He smiles when Laura shrieks and throws down the chord she was holding, and runs out of the room, yelling behind her, “I’m telling mom!”

He turns to Matteo, who’s still against the wall, but with Laura gone he looks a little less tense. He puts a finger on his lips and waves Matteo over, and once he’s close enough he grabs his hand and whispers, “Come on, we have to go hide now.”

He tugs on Matteo’s hand and quickly, quiety leads him down the stairs. He doesn’t know where his mom is but he can hear Laura stomping around upstairs so he figures they’re safe for a bit. He can see his mom washing dishes at the sink, her back to the hallway that led to the basement, and he tugs again.

They get to the door and he slowly opens it, trying to avoid the loud creak. Once he gets it open as silently as he can, he turns to Matteo and is about to tell him to follow, but as he takes a step down onto the first stair, Matteo’s hand twists out of his.

“No,” he says, stepping back, shaking his head, rubbing at his arms again, “I- I don’t like the dark. I can’t go in basements.”

He grabs for Matteo’s wrist to try and drag him down anyway, but Matteo rips his arm away and wraps it behind his back fast. He glares, and is about to complain and whine and whisper that they need to hurry up because Laura is coming down the stairs, but Matteo glares back at him. He’s wants to argue but instead he rolls his eyes and pushes Matteo back, and then walks past him to the back door.

He pulls it open and runs outside, not even waiting to see if Matteo is following, because Matteo isn’t going to get in trouble if they’re caught. He runs until he finds what he’s looking for, the large shed in their backyard that housed various tools of his father’s and larger toys and bikes and such of his and Laura’s. He puts a hand on the doorknob, and then finally turns, and sees Matteo a little ways behind him. He decides to be nice and take extra long to get the door open.

He can suddenly hear his mom calling for him. His eyes widen and he tugs Matteo inside, who doesn’t seem happy at David’s hand on him so he lets go as soon as he can close the door. He puts a finger over his lips again, and even though Matteo looks mad at him he does the same.

He leads him to the back of the shed where there’s an old playhouse that his dad had built for him and Laura. The only reason it’s in the shed is because he, not loving the colors his parents had chosen for it, decided to splash a can of old black paint he found in his basement all over the exterior walls. He had gotten in trouble for that, but a new playhouse was in it’s spot the next week, a light blue one instead of the pink and purple that the original had been. He opens the door, quickly checks around for bugs or mice, and, seeing a clean enough space, steps inside.

Matteo looks around before hesitantly walking in behind him. He isn’t used to having friends as sensitive as Matteo seems to be, and he reminds himself of the words his mom would sometimes say to him when he’s getting frustrated at someone else, when he’s being too stubborn to think about how someone else might be feeling. His own brain is still a little too interesting to himself, all the thoughts and feelings that come so quickly and leave just as fast, and he sometimes needs to be reminded that other people have their own different, interesting brains.

“We can hide here for a little bit,” he whispers, and then noticing Matteo staring down at the ground, shoulders hunched like the first time he saw him, “are you okay Luigi?”

Matteo looks up, twisting the ends of his shirtsleeves around his fingers.

*** PART TWO

David’s high school graduation present is top surgery. Nothing about it is a surprise due to all of the meetings and consultations and doctor’s visits he needs to complete before they can do the surgery, but it goes by fast enough, probably due to his father’s presence. Or more his father’s money’s presence. He knows that he’s lucky, and can barely even remember the annoying process by the time he’s out of surgery, and on his way to healing again.

They had scheduled everything so he’d be able to go back to school on time, still finishing up the last of his recovery, but healed enough to do the rest of it on his own. As someone who already had a lot of confidence, getting top surgery makes David feel like he’s on top of the world.

His parents take him on a huge shopping trip before he goes, order him everything he adds to his college wishlist on Amazon, and help him pack up his car when it’s time for him to leave. They hug him goodbye, reminding him to be safe, and smart, and to focus on his work but also to have fun, and to call them if he needs money or food or anything. He waves them on and hugs them both quick, too excited to start this next phase of his life to stay and chat long. He gets in his car, starts the engine, and laughs hysterically as he pulls out of the long driveway.

And of course, he thrives there. Being raised in the family he was, he knows how to network, how to get himself out there in the exact ways he wants. The first person he meets is his roommate Jonas, a nice guy around his height with curly brown hair. They bond quickly over the fact that they both brought tons of music posters to hang around the room, and Jonas doesn’t even blink at the trans flag he places in a cup of pens on his desk. He’s perfect.

His classes are easy for him, and more fun than he expected, even the ones not relating to his major. He speaks well, has always been a good student, and gets on all his professor’s radars within the first few weeks with how articulate and insightful he is. He jokingly thinks to himself after getting praised one class for his eloquence, thank god for private school.

He joins as many clubs as he can, too. One for photography, making a note to look for the nice camera he had gotten one Hannukah, some kind of club that he ends up dropping because all of the other guys in it are the type of film bro that David always swears to never become. He also joins LGBT clubs, one for trans people specifically and one more general, and blushes when he’s asked to join the Burlesque club, turning the invitation down with a pleased smile. He makes friends fast through all the clubs, quickly finding people in each of the little niches he was forcing himself into. He tells all of this to Amira with a proud grin that falls the second she decides to start calling him Mr. Popular.

There are other things he does well in, up at school. He’s a little put off at first, how quickly people are to come up to him with small, private smiles already on their faces, touching his shoulder and laughing even when he doesn’t say something funny. The people who would squish themselves up against him at meetings, or put a hand on his arm to ask him a question about something in class. He can’t say he minds the attention at all, feel a little bit in his own cocky way like some prince with suitors parading around his castle doors. It only goes to his head a bit.

That stops a couple months in, when he starts actually noticing the girl in one of his only non-film classes that had been making eyes at him since the first week. Their professor always has the class sit in a circle to “better facilitate discussion” or whatever, after David notices her looking at him, a small smile on her face with her eyebrows raising when she sees him noticing her,, and they spend the rest of that class, raising their eyebrows at each other and smiling, daring the other not to laugh.

David catches her on the way out of class a week later, and finds out that her name is Amelia, finds out that she has one dimple on her left cheek that gets bigger when she laughs, and finally finds out that yes, she’d love to get lunch with him. She has hair that she tells him she dyed the mixture of greens and blues one night when she was drunk off of a bottle of wine and found her roommate’s leftover dye in their bathroom. She

When David gets back after his first year is over, he feels accomplished. He had done fantastic in all his classes, had clubs and friends to return to once the next year started, and as he drives home, music blasting in his car, he realizes he’s excited to have some time off.

When he gets back both of his parents are waiting by the door to greet him, proud smiles on their faces as he tells them about finals, and how much he misses his friends and Jonas and his girlfriend, that he’s definitely going to be inviting some of them to the house over the summer, and that he needs a new pair of headphones because he lost his good ones in the chaos of moving out. He feels like he’s rambling, but he’s excited to see his parents and actually talk to them again.

They tell him that they want to take him out to dinner to celebrate him finishing his first year and doing so well, and he runs up to his room to get changed at their insistence. He would’ve been happy just staying at home, ordering something from the local Mexican place that he’s been missing, but he know if they have an idea for something more celebratory he won’t be able to stop them. That’s confirmed when his dad calls up the stairs that they have a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in his town.

He gets into the backseat of his dad’s truck, buckling himself in and quickly taking his phone out. He wants to see his friends as soon as he can, and had promised to text Amira when he got home. He opened his conversation with her and started typing.

David: Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner, my parents wanted to take me out and they’ve barely given me time to breathe

As he waits for a response, he realizes that he should probably text his girlfriend, too. He snorts at himself for not thinking about it and opens his messages with Amelia.

David: I’m back!! You’re probably still driving so keep your eyes on the road and text me when you’re home <3

He gets a text from Amira just as it sends, and he switches back to that conversation.

Amira: Ah yes, your best friend is much less important than a fancy dinner David: 🙄

He was going to send more but before he can, his mom sighs, and he hears, “Oh look, we haven’t gone there in so long!”

He picks his head up and looks out the window in the direction she’s staring, and they’re at a red light so David has time to realize that it’s the restaurant his dad owns. He tilts his head, biting the inside of his cheek, and goes back to texting Amira, and checks to see if Amelia responded.

“Maybe we can go another night,” his dad says, turning his head just enough to catch David’s eye over the back of his seat, “we need somewhere fancier, our son just finished his first year of university with straight A’s!”

David smiles before casting one more look out at the restaurant as his dad starts driving again, and once it disappears from sight he turns back to his phone. He doesn’t like to think much about the restaurant, though he knows the reason they haven’t gone in a while. He doesn’t like to think much about that reason, either.

After Matteo was sent to live in Italy, David had a rough time dealing with it. He had lost his best friend, the one person he could talk to about all of the new and terrifying thoughts that were just beginning to drift through his head, he lost him before he even had a real name for him to know. He was angry, at the world for taking him Matteo away, and then at his parents for refusing to let him talk to Mrs. Florenzi about it.

“You don’t understand,” they said to him one night, after he had gotten so frustrated he had kicked a hole through his door and thrown everything off the desk in his room, “yes, you lost your best friend, but she doesn’t have her son with her anymore. If you ask her about him it’ll just make it worse. We know you miss him, but this is for the best.”

He didn’t talk to them for weeks. After about a week of complete silence in the house Laura stormed into his room with the intent to yell at him over something, and it all boiled over. He started crying the second her glare focused on him, and then he started talking. He told her about how Matteo was the only person who understood him, didn’t question what he did or said or called himself, just offered support and companionship no matter what. Through his tears, in a shaky voice, he explained to her that he was a boy, that it was okay if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore but he couldn’t deal with only one person knowing, especially if he didn’t have that person anymore.

She had sat on the edge of his bed and listened, nodding along until David could breathe again. She thanked him, told him that it was okay that he was angry, and asked if he had a name he wanted her to call him. He had hung his head, ashamed that his answer was no. She had nodded at that too, and said, “Well, we’ll find one then.”

David sighs at the memories that had come flooding back at the sight of the old, slightly dilapidated restaurant, and texts another friend. His dad orders a bottle of wine at dinner and pours David glass after glass, until his mom cuts him off with a tipsy laugh of her own, and he’s smiling with red cheeks when they leave later that night, stumbling to the car on steady legs as his parents laugh fondly at his state.

He collapses into bed that night with an urge he hadn’t felt in a couple of years. He takes his phone out and unlocks it after a couple of tries, ignoring the messages from Amira from earlier and opening Instagram. He gets distracted commenting on a friend’s post, but then goes to the search page and hesitates before typing in Matteo Florenzi.

He’s done it before, of course, tried to find him on every new social media site that popped up over the years, and he’s never found anything. That’s why he sits back up in his bed, his jaw dropping open as he sees an account called matteohno, and sees the profile picture, sees that he can almost recognize the face in the tiny circle, and he clicks it.

There are more pictures than he expects. He scrolls to the bottom, trying not to get ahead of himself, and clicks on the first picture he sees. It’s tagged with the name of some restaurant, as far as he can tell, and Matteo is in frame, David can tell it’s him. He has the same button nose, same floppy, dirty blond hair, same half smile on his face like he’s waiting for the right time to let a full one out. David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He scrolls through all of the pictures, his heart tightening each time Matteo is in them. The memories that have always been hard to think about, of a little boy, sensitive, quiet, happily following David’ lead, were especially hard to reconcile with these new pictures. Matteo looks like he’s grown into himself, more confident in himself or his abilities, David doesn’t know, but it makes him smile and send a pang of something through his chest.

There are pictures of food, and Matteo alone, and Matteo with random other people, all the captions in Italian so David can only guess what they say. He stops when he sees one, Matteo and some other young looking guy, their arms draped over each other’s shoulder as they laugh and each hold up a rainbow flag.

He locks his phone on the image, feeling something strange and nostalgic twist up in his gut, and drops his head onto his pillow. He closes his eyes, thinking back to days full of running through his backyard, hiding from angry parents and talking more deeply about life than kids should be able to.

He wakes up the next day, mid afternoon, with his head pounding and his phone buzzing with a FaceTime call from Jonas.

“Hey, man, is this your shirt?” Jonas asks, and David squints at his screen to see button down shirt he’s holding up, “I think it got lost in all my shit.”

“Uh, maybe?” David says rubbing a hand over his eyes. He blinks them open again and sees Jonas on his screen, smiling knowingly.

“Too much fun celebrating with the parents, huh?”

David flips him off.

“Okay, okay, love you too bro,” Jonas says, chuckling, and then continues, “I have to go though, I just found out that one of my old friends is coming back from Italy this week, I need to call him and yell at him for not telling me.”

David feels his face drop, but puts a smile back on and says goodbye before Jonas hangs up.

#this was a cute one omg i love them #davenzi

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archiveikemen · 1 year

Text

'Wicked Love Blooming In The Dark Night' Story Event: Chapter 2

Roger Route

read this before interacting with my posts

???: Thank you so much for waiting, Roger!

The person who approached Roger was a young man with brown hair.

Young Man: This is…?

Roger: Ah, she’s my lover. She insisted on sticking to me today, so… yeah.

Kate: Huh? I did n—

Young Man: Ah, I see! Nice to meet you. I’m Ben, and I’m a pharmacist!

Kate: I’m Kate. Did you and Roger arrange to meet here?

Young Pharmacist: Yes! Ever since I first met Roger at this tavern, we became great buddies.

Young Pharmacist: At first, I felt embarrassed because I was a mere pharmacist, compared to the Royal Physician.

Roger: Haha, you say that and yet you’re the one inviting me for daytime drinking these days.

Outsiders must never know about the existence of Crown.

Therefore, “royal physician” must’ve been the alias Roger used with outsiders.

Urged by Roger, the young pharmacist sat down and started talking happily.

(Fufu, they seem to be very close.)

Roger: This guy may be young, but he’s one talented chap. Rumour has it that the drug you buy from him is exceptionally effective.

Roger: Apparently, even long-term chronic illness can be cured instantly.

Kate: That’s like magic!

Young Pharmacist: Magic? Ahaha, right. If only I could really become a magician who magically heals the sick.

Roger: …

The three of us continued our lively conversation—.

…

(Leaving his wallet with someone to pay the bill for him. How convenient.)

I paid the bill and went outside to look for Roger.

(Ah, found him.)

Kate: Roge—

(Huh…?)

In the alleyway, Roger slipped “something” into Ben’s hand.

It was money.

Roger: Then, I’ll see you “again”.

When Ben left, Roger noticed my presence.

Kate: Roger, just now—

Roger: Ah, I purchased some of that miracle drug from him and gave him advanced payment.

Kate: Drug?

Roger: If the drug he made is truly that effective, we should have it in stock for the palace or Crown.

Kate: I understand that, but why did you have to do it in such a shady place?

Roger: Purchasing drug for the palace means that there will be less of it available for the people. Won’t that look bad if done openly?

(That's a reasonable explanation. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with that.)

(But something feels off.)

Kate: … Roger, is that really all?

Roger’s eyes that rarely ever showed his emotions flickered.

Roger: You suspect that I betrayed someone. … Right?

(...)

Roger: It's up to you to decide whether I’ve betrayed anyone, and whether my actions were good or evil.

Roger: Haha, your thoughts are written all over your face.

Roger: Young lady. You want an answer from me, but it’s not going to be that easy.

Roger: Even if I do give you an answer, you can't be sure that it’s the truth, can you?

Roger’s eyes were fixed onto me — like a predator eyeing its prey.

(He’s warning me. I’ll get myself into trouble if I go any further.)

Crown’s purpose was to fight evil with evil, they existed in a dark world that no one should step into.

(I feel like I’m being skinned alive and having all my weaknesses exposed.)

Putting my safety at risk was not part of my job as a fairytale writer, I was sure that no one would hold me accountable for backing out.

(However, I agreed to become a fairytale writer to save my life.)

(... I want to be accountable for my own decision.)

If not, I might lose myself in this dark world.

(Therefore…)

Kate: … I’m not going to back out. I said it myself that I wanted to spend the entire day by your side.

Roger: … Huh?

Roger: I like it, this side of you. Courageous and earnest. … I’m almost moved to tears.

Roger ruffled my hair with his tough hand.

Kate: H-Hey

Roger: Haha, you’re so cute. Come on, let’s get going. You said you’re not chickening out, right?

Kate: Y-Yes!

…

(Where are we…)

We arrived at an abandoned warehouse after sunset.

And then—.

Young Pharmacist: Sorry to have kept you waiting, Roger. Here’s the drug I made.

The young pharmacist took the drugs out of his leather bag and held it out to Roger.

Roger: So this is the cure-all drug called— “blue pill”.

Young Pharmacist: Yes! Taking this drug can cure you of all your ailments instantly.

Young Pharmacist: That’s why the price is a little bit on the high end—

Roger: The price doesn't matter to me. But is this all the stock you’re selling?

Young Pharmacist: Huh?

Roger: I was thinking that it'd be good to stock up on this “superior quality” drug at the royal palace.

For a split second, I thought I saw the look in Roger’s eyes change.

His gaze was sharp, calm, and yet angry at the same time.

Young Pharmacist: Of course! I still have some of this drug in stock.

Roger: Where are you storing them?

Young Pharmacist: Where, huh. … Erm, it's a warehouse I rented nearby Euston Station.

Roger: Euston, A501XXX—

Young Pharmacist: Wha.

Jude: I already did my research on that place. The trading company has also been eyeing that area.

I turned in the direction that voice was coming from, and saw Jude and Ellis standing on the second floor.

(Why are the two of them here?)

(No way— that means this is…)

Roger: We’ve got the evidence. Go to that warehouse and seize all the “blue pill”.

Ellis: Understood.

Jude: Tch, that place is far from here. How troublesome.

Young Pharmacist: What’s all this about, Roger?

Ellis: … Roger.

Ellis tossed Roger’s hunting rifle down from the second floor.

Roger caught it and pointed it at the young pharmacist’s forehead.

Young Pharmacist: !?

Roger: Doctors and medicine exist precisely because illnesses aren't so easy to cure.

Roger: And yet, you had the cheek to take advantage of and trample on that.

Roger: — Save your apologies for the afterlife.

— BANG.

(Ah…)

(... Wh… wha…)

My field of vision was dyed bright red with blood.

My heart hammered hard against my chest, I stood there petrified as Roger put down his rifle and approached me.

Roger: I took the initiative to approach that pharmacist, built a trusted relationship with him, then I betrayed and killed him.

Kate: …

Roger: Here’s the question, young lady.

Roger: Was my betrayal evil or justified? What are your thoughts on it?

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story event #roger barel #niki translates

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a-vintage-snake · 4 years

Text

Don’t Make Me Be The Bad Guy

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Moceit

Warnings: Dystopian future, implied torture

Characters: Janus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Summary: After seven years of fighting, Patton and his superhero team finally capture the super villain known as Deceit. But when Patton discovers evidence that sheds a new light on their nemesis he starts to wonder... Did he do the right thing?

Word Count: 9411

Author’s Note: For @dramaticsnakes, who’s a wonderful reader and writer. And special thanks to @rainbowbutterfrosting who helped me finish this when I almost wanted to give up. (Also, as always I upload and edit the mistakes out after, so bear with me)

Read on AO3

In the end, it had been Patton who had struck the final blow.

It had been mostly a matter of luck, really. One moment where Patton managed to break through the henchmen’s defences. One moment where he saw that their nemesis’ back was turned to him. One moment where he made a split decision.

One moment. And that moment had made all the difference.

He didn’t quite realize he had thrown one of his famous lightning bolts until it hit square between his enemy’s shoulder blades. He stood there, paralyzed, as Janus Lyre (alias Doctor Deceit) crumbled to the floor. The battle around them grounded to a halt as well, as the henchmen saw their leader unconscious at the feet of their enemies. His teammates froze as well, looking up at Patton in gaping disbelief.

When time finally seemed to start again, everything went by in a blur. The henchmen managed to escape, unfortunately with the super weapon Patton and his team had come to destroy. But it didn’t even seem to matter.

“By Odin’s beard, Padre!” Roman lifts him up in a hug. “You did it!!”

“I… I did?” Patton confusedly asks, still feeling a little dizzy.

“You got him! You actually got him!” Roman puts him back on his feet with a giant grin on his face. “We can finally put him away!” “But the weapon-!”

“Forget the weapon! We’ve got the bastard, Heart!” Virgil grins. “After seven years we finally got him! It’s over!”

“Well, not exactly,” Logan pipes in, although he can’t seem to stop grinning too. “There’s still the matter of rounding up the rest of his organization-”

“Technical details, my friend!” Roman dramatically waves Logan’s objections away. “We got their leader! Not a henchman, not some lackey, their actual leader! How long do you think until their little League of Losers falls apart?”

“Even so,” Logan says. “Better not celebrate until Doctor Deceit is safely behind bars. You three search the building. Who knows, maybe some of his henchmen are still hiding somewhere,” Logan throws a scornful look down at the unconscious Janus at their feet. “I will stay here and stand guard.”

“Ah yes, I was just about to suggest that!” Roman says as he flips his hair proudly. “Great intuition, Nerdy and the Brain!”

“Yes, sounds like a good plan!” Patton quickly squeaks as Logan gains a look that says he’s about a minute away from using his telekinesis to throw Roman across the room. “How about you call in our superiors, Logan? We need to put this villain behind bars!”

“Excellent idea, Heart Shock.” Logan says gratefully, while ignoring Roman’s protesting noises. Roman loved making the calls on jobs well done (which to be fair hadn’t occurred often lately).

“Great!” Patton grabs the hand of the still protesting Roman and pulls him along. “Come on Prince!”

Roman pouts and grumbles, but allows Patton to pull him further into the dark lair. He catches a glimpse of Virgil’s grin before he turns a corner.

“Bet you I can find something cool before you do!” Patton smiles up at Roman. His teammate’s grumpy face instantly brightens.

“Oh, you’re on Padre!”

Dissolving into giggles Patton and Roman run down the halls. Roman could easily outfly him, yet he chooses to run alongside Patton for now. Giddily Patton runs towards a promising looking door at the end of the hallway.

Throwing it open he however sags in disappointment as the room they found only holds a couple cardboard boxes.

“Bah, nothing of importance,” Roman says as he kicks over the boxes and nothing but rusty spare mechanical parts fall out. “I suppose even villains need a trash cupboard. Come Heart!” Roman levitates from the ground. “Let us find something more dastardly!”

Before Patton can say anything Roman flies out of the room. Judging from the clanging sounds he’s already searching in a room further ahead. Patton casts one last glance around the room before he shrugs and turns to follow.

He pauses.

Uncertainly he turns around again. Something about the room doesn’t feel… Right. He knows it, yet he can’t put his finger on it why exactly. His powers crackle in his veins, sensing the off-ness in the air.

Cautiously Patton walks around the room, circling the walls slowly with one hand trailing amongst the bricks. The sense of wrongness only increases until…

In front of a seemingly bare wall he stops. There it is. He feels an unusual amount of electricity clustering behind the stone, yet the wall shows no outer signs of being anything else than… Well, a wall. Curiously Patton puts both his hands on the bricks and closes his eyes.

The world behind his eyelids lights up in bursts of electricity. His power hums in tune with the wires inside the walls, stringing all over the building and mapping out the lair in his mind’s eye in perfect detail. Patton only takes short notice of it before he calls his powers back and focuses it all on the wall before him. Yes, there it was. His powers outline a door in the wall, carefully hidden behind a buzzing security system.

Well, no match for him! Patton only needs to concentrate for a few seconds to have the electricity revert and change directions. Flexing his fingers and furrowing his brow he wills the electricity to move into the opposite direction, to change their route, until finally he hears a click. Patton opens his eyes. He pulls his hands back as the wall shifts and a door opens, so seamlessly hidden in the brick it was invisible to the bare eye. Patton allows himself a proud grin. Oh, he was on a roll today! Patton steps into the room, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He searches for a light switch, but he can’t find one nearby. No matter! With a soft snap small lightning bolts dance on his fingers, revealing rich red walls which somehow complimented the flickering lightning in his hands.

The room is mostly bare, apart from a table in the centre of the room. It’s covered with various maps, some showing population size while others showing outlines of cities, roads and shops. There were some pencils and pens in the middle of the table, most sharp and pointed while a few were so dull that they couldn't be used anymore.

Patton noticed only one chair at the table. He only looked at it, remembering the times were Logan lectured him about not touching the crime scene unless absolutely necessary. Still, the chair seemed comfortable, the black leather clearly in great condition.

His eyes drift slightly downwards towards the cabinets under the table. They all looked the same to him, a spruce colour with a silver handle that could be pulled out. He crouches as he tries to pull open the drawer without ruining the possibility of getting fingerprints. What kind of horrors would he find in there? Knowing Janus it was probably something awful, like torture devices, or puppets of them with their eyes crossed out, or… Or…

Not able to take it any longer, Patton pulls open the drawer. He draws back, covering his face with his arms and waiting for poisonous darts or something to strike out and hit him. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Patton carefully peeks over his arms.

Inside the drawer... is just files. No cyanide, no razor-sharp knives, just... files. Patton lowers his arms and opens the one next to it, with more haste than the last one, only to find more files. Huh… That’s… Not what he was expecting? He honestly didn't know what he expected to find. It's not like the files were bad to find, it just didn't give him the rush of putting in the last piece to a puzzle. Capturing Janus almost felt like that. He knew he should have been more proud of himself, but this wasn't even close to the end of it. There still were all of Janus' accomplices and the propaganda he spread throughout several cities to take care of after all. Maybe the files had the names of his accomplices in them?

Forgetting Logan’s warning about contaminating the crime scene Patton grabs one of the files from the drawer and absentmindedly flips it open.

A scream echoes across the halls. Patton jerks up, forgetting the papers in his hand as the sound of struggle trail toward him. He jumps up, stuffs the files in his jacket before he runs back to where they left their enemy tied up.

It appears that backup had arrived, and in that same time their enemy had woken up. Several soldiers struggle with restraining a livid Janus, who trashes in their grip as they try to drag him into an awaiting prison van. They had managed to gag him before he woke, a muzzle strapped to his face to protect the soldiers from the venom of both his words and his fangs. He fights wildly, but in the end he is still one man against too many. As they finally wrestle him to the ground to clap him in handcuffs, he and Patton make eye contact.

Despite that he just knocked the man unconscious, despite that Janus is currently lying on the ground restrained by ten men, Patton instinctively takes a step back from the pure fury in those mismatched eyes.

Janus looks at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world.

One soldier pushes a taser onto his neck. Janus’ eyes roll back in his head as he convulses on the ground, muffled cries coming from behind the muzzle. When the taser withdraws Janus slumps to the ground, unconscious once more. Finally the soldiers can drag him into the prison van.

“Haha, yes!!” Roman yells. “You shall taste justice now, villain!”

Roman laughs, but it is only when the doors of the van close and they drive off that Patton feels like he can breathe again.

The press conferences were always Patton’s least favourite part. To stand next to their CEO, listening to a briefing of yet another failed mission while the people in the crowd shook their head in disapproval had always been torture. The longer the years went on the worse the pressure to actually defeat their villain became. To come back to the cameras every time Janus escaped became worse and worse as the years went on. The disappointment of not only the AEP, but of the people… That alone felt worse than any punch he had ever gotten in battle.

Now however Patton felt like he could just burst from all the excitement. He could barely stand still enough for his stylists to brush his hair into a tamer shape. He peeked behind the curtains to the gilded ballroom beyond. The AEP had chosen this specific ballroom to announce the big news on purpose. Just two years ago Janus and his horrid crew had crashed a fundraiser being held here and had stolen all the people’s so graciously donated funds for a new hotel. They hadn’t been able to capture him. It had been an awful night!

To be here again was to show that villain they were not afraid. That they could claim back the spaces he so rudely invaded. Seeing all the people in their beautiful evening gowns and best jewellery now made Patton want to burst out from behind the curtain to yell at them that they were safe!! He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted to yell at the entire world!

You are safe! We rescued you! I defeated the villain, I did, I did-!!

“Here are our heroes of the day!”

Distracted Patton looks back to see their CEO has come backstage. Bentley Ceund is a man in his late fifties, with a bleach blond hair dye job that does not quite hide away his grey roots, as always dressed in a stylishly expensive suit. He was the one who had founded the AEP, or An Endless Peace organization, all those years ago. Yet outside of press conferences they did not see him often. And even when they did, it were often meetings filled with harsh words and bitter disappointment.

“Have I wasted all my money on THIS?!” Their CEO had bellowed at them the last time they had seen him, when Janus had destroyed several important construction sites. “On FAILURES who can’t even capture ONE MEASLY MAN?!” Angry spit had hit Patton in the face as he struggled to hold back tears when Bentley had moved in close and screamed in their faces. “You’re a fucking EMBARRESEMENT to ME and the company who RAISED YOU FROM BIRTH!! UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS WASTES OF TIME!!”

Their TV and leisure time privileges had been taken away from them for quite some time back then.

That screaming man from last time was a far cry from the smiling one that approaches them now however. No, he in fact gives the others a joyful hug and praise. Roman and Logan beam, and even Virgil smiles hesitantly. When he turns to him Patton nervously fidgets for a moment, but Bentley gives him the possibly the grandest smile out of all of them.

“Heart Shock!” Bentley laughs as he draws Patton into a hug. He never uses their real names, even though he knew them by those well before their superhero names. “Well done, my boy!”

“T-Thank you sir!” Patton says excitedly, almost melting into the hug despite the overwhelming smell of body spray. He can’t help it. It wasn’t often he was the one who got most of the praise. That was usually either Logan or Roman. “I couldn’t have done it without the others though-!”

“No need to be so modest,” Bentley draws back from the hug, put keeps his hands on Patton’s shoulder. “I’ve read the report. You are the one shot down that son of a bitch!

“Oh, well,” Patton flusters. “Anyone could have done it-!”

But in the end it was you.” Their CEO chuckles, almost fondly. “Be proud of yourself, son. Thanks to you…” Bentley pats him on the shoulder. “The company is safe again.” “And the innocent civilians, sir!” Patton helpfully says.

“Hmm? Oh yes, those too I suppose.”

Patton frowns lightly, but before he can say anything Bentley’s PA interrupts.

“Mister Ceund? The program is about to begin.”

“Ah, yes! It’s time boys!” Bentley grins towards his superheroes. “Let’s tell the world what we have achieved today!” He gives Patton a pat on his cheek before he turns and walks to the curtains, waiting for the moment to make his grand entrance. Patton frowns, but he doesn’t have the time to think for long. Their CEO walks onto the stage where thunderous applause greets him. Eventually Patton just shrugs and stands with his teammates, dismissing the uncomfortable thoughts.

As the applause slowly grows to a halt, Bentley takes centre stage. “Today is a momentous occasion,” He says into the microphone. “After seven years of making our streets unsafe, the villain known as Doctor Deceit has finally been put behind bars!”

The crowd erupts into applause, filling the gilded ballroom with cheers and cameras flashing. Beside him Virgil flinches from the sudden noise. Patton discretely slips his hand into Virgil’s and squeezes. Virgil gives a grateful squeeze back.

“Today, history has been made. Today this organization has finally achieved that which we have promised you, all those years ago…” Their CEO pauses for a second, before proudly continuing. “An Endless Peace.”

The crowd applauds again, laughing politely at the reference of the company name.

“But of course, we did not do it alone!”

Patton and the others took a deep breath. Right. Time for the show!

“Please welcome your heroes! Here is Prince Charming!”

On that cue Roman flies up from behind the curtains and the crowd erupts into cheers. Roman flies his usual round over the crowd, occasionally sharing a high-five with an audience member and flashing his fans a million-dollar smile. Several men and women giggle and blush behind their hands as he flips his hair and blows kisses to the crowd.

“Show-off…” Virgil silently scoffs beside him.

“Come now, Virge,” Patton whispers back. “You know Roman loves the cameras! Let him have his fun.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but still a fond smile curls up his lips.

“Next, give it up for Brain Teaser!”

Logan purses his lips and sighs, but makes his entrance from behind the curtains anyway. Virgil and Patton exchange a knowing look. They’d listened to plenty of Logan’s rants about how ‘utterly illogical’ the serious man thought his superhero name was. Unfortunately the public was by now too familiar with the name to even suggest renaming him.

“Let me hear you for Stormcloud!”

Virgil supresses a shudder yet he still reluctantly dematerializes, only to rematerialize on stage in a cloud of shadows. While the crowd only grows in volume Patton winces in sympathy. The EAP knows how much Virgil can’t stand loud sounds, but for the audience he has to bear it with a smile. It was a weakness their enemies had exploited frequently. Janus would often blast high-pitched noises at such a volume Virgil would crumble where he stood, allowing him to escape over and over.

Well, Patton thinks with a tinge of pride, he won’t harm his friends ever again now.

“And of course, last but certainly not least… The man of the hour! The hero who struck the deciding blow! Put your hands together for HEART SHOCK!”

The curtains are drawn and Patton is momentarily blinded from the hundreds of cameras flashing and deafened by the crowd cheering. Squinting Patton stands in the spotlight, dizzily smiling at the onslaught of praise that is directed his way. He walks forward- Although it feels like stumbling is a better word- to the front of the stage to where the CEO waits for him with a smile. Journalists crowd the stage as they shout questions.

“Heart Shock!! Heart Shock, over here-!”

“Heart Shock, how do you feel-?”

“What was going through your head?”

“How did you take the villain down? We want all the juicy details-!”

“Everyone, everyone! Please!” Bentley laughs. “One question at a time, please!”

Patton yelps as Bentley puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug like he’s a proud father. The cameras around them go nuts as their CEO smiles and poses with Patton.

“How are you feeling, Heart Shock?” One journalist manages to yell over the cacophony of questions.

“W-Well…” Patton stammers into the microphone. “I-I feel quite proud-!”

“A well deserved pride, my boy!” Bentley says jovially as he squeezes his shoulder.

“Yeah… I suppose it is-!” Patton smiles.

“Heart Shock! How do you think the villain will react to his status as prisoner?” One journalist yells, a question that is met with gaudy giggles.

“I guess…” Patton says with hesitant excitement. “He’ll find it…” He snaps his fingers, lightning dancing over his hands as he finger guns at the audience. “Quite shocking?”

To Patton’s bewildered delight the entire audience erupts into laughs. Even Bentley next to him laughs, while he had always disapprovingly glared before when Patton made a pun. Patton can’t stop the grin that spreads on his face even if he had wanted to.

The rest of the evening goes by in a haze. As the press conference part of the evening ends and the superheroes must mingle with the guests, the praise just keeps on coming. Patton gets patted on the back, hugged and complimented. The sheer amount of attention is dizzying. Patton can’t stop smiling throughout all of it. It might just be the best evening in his life.

It isn’t until he’s in bed, still glowing with pride and from all the praise, that Patton remembers the files in his jacket.

His superhero jacket lays thrown into a corner, cast aside earlier as he quickly got into a clean, more sleek version of his hero outfit for the press conference. Giving it a glance from where he sits on his bed he’s almost tempted to leave it until next morning. His handlers had actually given him hot chocolate and two cookies before bed! Two!! That was a treat he didn’t often get! He just wants to enjoy them in peace.

Still… Perhaps he could hand them over tomorrow, announcing all the wicked plans that are undoubtedly in the files that he had also stopped when he captured Janus. Grinning at that mental image Patton gets up from and retreats back into his comfy bed with the files, munching on a cookie as he lazily starts skimming through the papers.

An hour later his hot chocolate has long run cold and the second cookie lies forgotten on its tray. Patton sits straight up in his bed, the files open on his knees and his gaze firmly locked on the wall in front of him. His first cookie feels like lead in his stomach.

It couldn’t be the truth… It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!!

Abruptly coming back into motion Patton stuffs the files under his mattress and turns off the light to sleep, determined not to even consider or think about what is in them anymore. Yet it takes him until the first rays of dawn to finally fall asleep, and even when he does sleep his dreams are filled with mismatched eyes that look at him with a gaze that burns, burns, burns…

During the days of the week that follows he’s fine. He can smile and take the praise that he’s still showered with daily, with the files only a distant memory.

During the nights, however… Patton can’t seem to shake the image of those eyes. Furious, loathing mismatched eyes, looking at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world. The files underneath his mattress seem to burn a hole in his soft bedding, demanding his attention.

It is only a week later when he awakens from yet another nightmare plagued by those accusing eyes that Patton realizes this can’t go on. He has to know what it all means, or he might go mad with the questions that swarm his mind.

The next night Patton foregoes his bed in favour of slipping out of his room into the quiet halls of the facility, the files tucked away in his jacket. Sweat beads down his forehead, the familiar thrum of electricity inside the walls only a faint comfort. Although he only needs to make the barest effort to make the security cameras divert from him, the action still makes his hands shake. As he sneaks into the elevator at the end of the hall he inspects the buttons. You need a special pass to go to the very lowest level. But Patton only needs to send a pulse of electricity into the elevator to make the security system think he’s been granted access. As the doors close Patton swallows. No going back now.

The elevator ride feels both too long and too short. When finally the doors glide open to reveal a long hall Patton fastens his pace. He passes other closed cells, some of which he hears murmurs from behind their closed doors, but he does not slow down until he reaches the door at the very end of the hall. Door 409… Holding the highest level of security prison cell they have.

He glances backwards for a second, before he takes a deep breath and places his hands on the door. He feels the electricity answering as he redirects the flow. It’s hard. Harder than the vault in the lair, harder than tricking the elevator had been. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead, as he carefully has to divert his powers through layer upon layer of security, careful in case he triggers an alarm somewhere.

He isn’t quite sure how much time passes, but at long last the door finally, finally opens. Patton enters, and quickly slides the door closed again. His heart hammers in his throat as he presses his hands to the door and listens for the sound of the alarm going off.

It doesn’t come. He had done it. Exhaling a shaky breath Patton leans his forehead against the metal door, cooling his flushed skin.

“Well, well, well,” A smooth voice drawls behind him. “Look what the cat dragged in…”

Patton’s shoulders tense. He had hoped to never hear that voice again. A part of him is tempted to leave, but the files pressed against his chest still burn. So he gathers all his courage and slowly turns around.

The cell in the middle of the room is a monstrosity of glass and metal, bare apart from a simple bed. The security system surrounding it buzzes with the sheer amount of electricity it needs, making it dizzying even to Patton. It is only a small distraction however from the person all that electricity is holding prison, standing in the middle of that glass cell with his arms crossed at his back. Like he had been expecting him.

“My sincerest apologies for the mess. I wasn’t expecting such important company,” Janus grins. “Should I feel honoured that the famed Heart Shock is visiting little old me in my cell?”

Patton swallows. He had hoped that the villain would have been less frightening now, pulled away from his usual shadows and dragged into the light for once. He wasn’t. If anything the simple white prison grubs he wore instead of his usual black suits and the bright LED lightning only enhances how alien, how otherworldly he really is. The green scales trailing down his sharp face, the fangs glistening in that all too familiar mocking grin, the tall willowy frame that nonetheless packs a surprising amount of strength… The man in front of him is more monster than human. Patton wonders for a second if he ever was human to begin with.

“Oh, look at you,” Janus chuckles softly as the silence between them stretches on. “Like a frightened little mouse in the snake’s den… Whatever will he do now?”

Patton puffs out his chest indignantly. “I’m not afraid of you!” He says, ignoring how Janus raises an eyebrow with an amused smile. “I’m not! You have no power here! You’re our prisoner!”

“Really?” Janus mockingly drawls. “Well, pardon me for not believing you whilst you look like that.”

Patton belatedly realizes what kind of picture he paints. Pressed up against the door, as far away from the glass as he possibly can. Not exactly the fearless superhero everyone expected him to be.

Closing his eyes for a second, Patton takes a deep breath and steps forward. Cautiously he approaches the cell, his footsteps in sync with Janus’ until they both halt at the glass, right in front of each other. Patton stares up at his nemesis, more confident than he feels. Right into the mismatched eyes who have haunted his nightmares for almost a week now. He swallows, clenching his fist to hide that they’re shaking.

“While I’m definitely thrilled to have you here,” Janus smirks down at him. “I’m afraid I’m a very busy man, and don’t have time to have a staring contest with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Patton opens his mouth to ask what the heck he would be busy with, he’s a prisoner, but stops himself. That’s a discussion that would lead him nowhere, and he came here with a purpose.

“I’m here to talk with you.” He says instead.

“Congratulations, you just did,” Janus yawns, a forked tongue lazily flicking out from between sharp fangs. “If that was all, darling-”

“No! I mean-” Patton zips open his jacket and pulls out the files. “I’m here to talk about these.”

Janus’ eyes narrow when he spots the files, the only outward reaction he shows. Yet the temperature between them seems to drop to freezing level.

“I’ve never seen those before in my life.” Janus says airily.

“I found them in your lair!” Patton counters. “In a hidden compartment in the wall!”

“Did you now? How interesting.” Janus lazily inspects his fingernails. Patton frowns as he spots Janus’ left arm is completely wrapped up in white bandages. He can’t recall that they gave him an arm injury. He opens his mouth to ask, but shakes his head. He had to focus on this.

“These are your plans!”

“No they’re not.”

“Oh yeah?” Patton flips open the files. “Then how do you explain your name on top of these papers?”

“Can I help it that ‘Janus’ is such a popular name?”

“These are all written in your handwriting!”

“Preposterous. My handwriting is much neater.”

“All your old plans are in this, and some future ones!” Patton shouts exasperatedly.

“Pure coincidence.”

“Stop,” Patton grits out through clenched teeth. “Stop denying! I know these are yours!”

“If you’re so sure, why ask me at all?” Janus disinterestedly brushes away some invisible dust from his shoulder. “Why haven’t you immediately shown them to your superiors, like the good obedient lackey that you are?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” Patton responds heatedly.

With a growl Janus suddenly throws a fist against the glass, his eyes flashing dangerously. Patton jumps backwards, his throat squeezing shut before a startled scream can escape him.

“Don’t. Lie. To me.” Janus spits. “If you had shown them, you wouldn’t be here chatting with me in the middle of the night. Admit it.”

“I… No.” Patton finally shakes his head, gripping the files tightly between his hands. “No, I didn’t…”

“There we go…” Janus draws his hand back and crosses his arms again behind his back, his easy smile back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Heart Shock. Have your masters never told you it’s bad to lie?”

Patton bites his lip. It was true that he’d be in so much trouble if his superiors ever found out that he lied. But surely they would understand him lying to their enemy, wouldn’t they?

“You’re one to talk!” Patton says instead. “You lie all the time!”

“Says who?” Janus drawls with a mocking smile.

“Says me! You lied every time we fought, you just lied multiple times to my face-!”

“No I didn’t.”

“-And you lie in these files!!” Patton shrieks, waving the files in front of the villain’s nose. Janus’ smile falls and his face darkens.

“Oh? Pray tell, Patton.” Janus sneers, and Patton snaps back in shock at hearing his actual name coming from the villain’s mouth.

“H-How did you-?”

“Why exactly would you think I lied in these files?” Janus tilts his head. “If I wrote them, that is.”

“Because... Because-!” Patton flips angrily through the files. “Because these files say you used the money you stole from the hotel fundraiser two years ago to finance black market medication research!”

The hero looks up triumphantly, expecting Janus to laugh and simper about how gullible he is for believing such an obvious decoy. Janus however doesn’t laugh. He shows not even a hint of his mockery as he silently listens. Patton’s triumph falters, and he flips once more through the files to avoid that calm gaze.

“A-And here!” Patton pulls another paper from the file. “In here you claim that you kidnapped the scientist Emile Picani because the AEP made him design weapons, not new mental health robots!”

Still no response. Patton scowls as he holds up another paper. “This says you destroyed a construction site for a new factory because the output would pollute the town’s only water resource!”

“They were also exploiting the builders,” Janus finally interrupts. “Forced them to work under horridly unsafe conditions for barely a quarter of the salary they needed to support their families.”

“Yes!!” Patton throws the files down with frustrated force, making the papers fly everywhere. “You… You… You keep lying in these files, making us appear like the bad guys! Is this what you tell the people? To brainwash them into joining your stupid little gang?”

“Me? Brainwashing? HA!” Janus shakes his head. “That’s a laugh and a half…”

“I’m onto you, Deceit!” Patton proudly puffs out his chest. “I see right through your tricks!”

“Oh, of course you do,” Janus smiles down at him like he’s a child who just badly solved a puzzle game. “Nothing gets past you. Truly, I’m so impressed.”

Patton’s certainty wanes. Villains who just got their plans exposed should look angry, not like they’re secretly laughing at you.

“Well, if you’re done spouting wild accusations, would you mind closing the door behind you?” Janus stretches his arms above him. “I want to get my eight hours of sleep in before I get thrown into the next torture session tomorrow, thank you very much.”

“Torture-? Oh, haha, very funny!”

“Not joking, unfortunately-”

“Why do you do this??” Patton has to resist to stomp his feet in frustration. “Why do you keep on lying?”

Janus lowers his arms, his smile falling away. “I don’t.” He says. The seriousness of his voice throws Patton off, but even so he scoffs.

“Yes, you do!”

“I really don’t. There’s not a single word in those files that isn’t the honest truth.”

“Yeah, right,” Patton crosses his arms. “Tell that to the people outside! Or to my superiors!”

“Oh, by all means, bring them in,” Janus says seriously. “Bring them all in! Your precious masters, all my supposed victims… I think you’ll find that they’ll all agree with my side of the story.”

Patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, uncertainly. The rigid seriousness of the other makes him more nervous than he hopes he lets on. He was so used to the dangerously charming smooth talking Janus that he had no idea what to do with this calm, somber Janus. Oh, why hadn’t he taken Logan with him? He would have known what to say!

“Oh really?” Patton eventually says, sounding more sure of himself than he actually was. “What exactly is ‘your side of the story’? Go ahead, I could use a laugh!”

“You want to know, little mouse?” Janus says, and just like that the dangerous smile was back. “You really want to know?”

Patton swallows, but tilts his chin up defiantly. “Yes.”

“Well, you asked for it…” Janus hums thoughtfully, gathering his thoughts for a second. “My side of the story is about how years ago a small company gained interest. Funded by the richest of the rich of the world this company created unwilling abominations. Children reared only to use as weapons to hold the world hostage. So that those richest of the rich could create a planet where the lowest of the low were forced to work for them. Leeching of the world’s natural resources like parasites, while the rest of us peasants suffer as a result. Of course, that was the system even before these children became their shiny new atom bombs, but now… Now they had safeguard. A safety net that ensured no one would ever dare to rebel against them. Well…” Janus smiles. “Almost no one…” Janus inspects his fingernails casually again. “Of course, to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by such things as icky morals, they justify their actions by saying it was for the greater good! By saying this system created…” Janus raises an eyebrow at Patton. “An Endless Peace?”

A silence falls between them. Then Patton lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? You think I’m going to believe that? I’m not dumb, you know!”

“Dumb, maybe not,” Janus shrugs. “Naïve, however…”

“I don’t believe you!” Patton says proudly.

“You were born and raised at AEP, weren’t you?” Janus asks. “Told from a young age you were born to be a superhero? To help people? Tell me Patton, have you ever been away from this building for anything else than superhero business? Or talked to anyone who isn’t approved by EAP first? Anyone at all?”

Patton tries to think of an answer, but comes up empty. “The people in this building protect me,” He answers instead. “Protect me from people like you, who would exploit my powers for evil!”

“Trust me honey, you’re not the one who needs protection out there…” Janus mutters.

“I don’t believe you.” Patton repeats, a bit more uncertain this time.

“Fine. Don’t then.” Janus shrugs. “I don’t need you to believe me for it to still be true.”

The absolute confidence in Janus’ voice infuriates Patton, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“EAP is a good company! We actually help people, unlike you!” Patton yells, now actually stomping his foot. “You stand there trying to tell me you’re so noble, when you have NO PROOF for anything you claim!!”

“Proof?” Janus growly lowly. “You want proof? Fine!” Angrily he grabs the edge of his bandages and starts unwrapping his arm. “I’ll give you proof!

Patton inhales a sharp breath as Janus unwraps the last bandages. His arm is completely raw and swollen, oozing with barely healed wounds. His stomach turns at the sight of angry deep black burns strewn over any flesh that got spared.

“They tore the scales off my arm,” His cool façade finally shows cracks as Janus’ voice shakes. “One by one they ripped them off my skin. Even when I finally talked they didn’t stop. They continued on until my arm was bare, and the iron they placed in the fire was white hot. That’s how I got these…” Hovering his fingers over one of the burns he swallows. “Obviously I told them old hiding places, long since abandoned. It will keep them busy for a while, but when they realize I’ve given them old information…” He rubs his jaw absentmindedly. “They said they would take my teeth next. Too bad... I’ve grown quite fond of my fangs.”

“They…” Patton shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from Janus’ tortured arm. “They wouldn’t do this…”

Janus’ eyes turn cold, his collected mask back on. “Obviously, they did. Or do you think I would do this to myself to gain sympathy points with delusional so called ‘good guys’?”

“B-But-!! We are the good guys!! The people, they love us-!”

“Oh, please,” Janus rolls his eyes. “The only reason the ‘common’ folk sing your praises is because they’re too afraid that their ‘beloved rulers’ send you to destroy their homes next.”

“T-That-! That’s NOT true-!!”

“Do you know what they call your little ‘hero’ group outside of the little circle of rich assholes you protect?” Janus says with a nasty smile. “They call you ‘The Executioners’. Because the minute someone refuses to obey, to fall in line… They send you. To make sure the people know who’s in charge. To destroy any ounce of happiness they scraped up and make an example out of the corpses you and your friends leave behind in their wake!”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!” Patton shakes his head, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out that damned smooth voice.

“Face it, kid. You’re no hero. No… You want to know what you are?” Janus continues on mercilessly. “You’re a tool. A sharpened axe the elite of the world hold over the necks of the common people, so they continue working as proper frightened little drones. Nothing like a good threat to keep their servants from revolting against them.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!” Patton screams as he throws his fists against the glass, the lights above them flickering in sync with his outcry. His powers bursts out of him with a force he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid. Electricity climbs over the glass cell in living lightning, framing the villain like a cursed portrait. But Janus barely blinks as the electricity crackles around him.

“If you are so sure that I’m lying… Why are you still here?” He asks thoughtfully. “Why come here at all if you truly think I lied in these files? Unless…” Janus says slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “Unless you’ve already seen the cracks in their pretty façade. Is that it?”

Just as quick as his power had acted up it retreats. “I… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Patton stammers as he pulls his hands away from the glass, the bright glow of the electricity dying in his fingers. He steps back but Janus follows, like a shark that smells blood in the water.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Janus breaths out a disbelieving laugh as he shakes his head. “When did you start to notice the holes in their logic? Started to taste the bitterness in their pretty lies? How long have the doubts been eating at you, Patton?”

“That’s not…” Patton starts weakly, but any other rebuttals wither and die before they can leave his mouth.

“You’ve seen glances of their true faces,” Janus continues. “And you hoped that I would what? Comfort you? Deny everything and let you wallow in your own self-denial? Be the so-called ‘villain’ you think I am so you can continue feeling good about yourself?” Janus chuckles, lowly, the sound wrapping around Patton’s throat like a noose. “Come now darling… Did you really think I was that kind of person?”

It distinctly feels like something inside him breaks. The pretty wall of his superhero persona crumbles and crashes down, leaving Patton with only the ugly truth that wall had kept hidden from him. The pride and praise of the past week now suddenly tastes like bitter ash in his mouth.

He hurt people. He hurt the world. He did he did he did he did he DID-!!

He can’t take any more. Patton’s legs give away beneath him as he crumbles in front of the glass, his chest heaving with sobs. Pulling his hands through his hair he buries his face in his knees, tears dripping down his cheeks. Janus says nothing while Patton’s sobs echo in the room. He only stares down at the shattered hero at his feet with a distant kind of satisfaction.

"What do I do...?" Patton eventually whispers when the tears finally slow. "What can I do to make this right…?"

Janus grins, kneeling down to look the hero straight in the eye.

"You could start," He purrs. "By getting me out of here."

Patton walks through the halls he’s walked through a thousand times. His heart hammers a mile a minute in his ears, almost deafening him. Yet it can’t keep him distracted from the person currently running after him, sticking out amongst the grey walls like a sore thumb in his bright white prison grubs. They halt at an intersection, pushing their backs against the wall and holding their breath as soldiers run past in the next hallway.

“I’m going to need your phone.” Janus suddenly whispers, making Patton bite back a yelp.

“I-I don’t have one-!” He stammers. Janus gives him a long-suffering look.

“I’m not surprised, yet somehow still disappointed.” Janus sighs as he impatiently moves past him. Just as Patton wants to ask what he’s planning, Janus darts out of the dark corridor, as quick and ruthless as the snake he is and grabs the last soldier in the platoon that passes them. He gives her no time to alert the others in front of her as Janus covers the soldier’s mouth, drags her back into their corridor and sinks his teeth into her neck.

“What are you doing?!” Patton hisses.

“Making sure we can get out of here!” Janus hisses back as he pulls his teeth from the soldier’s neck. The woman’s eyes are already drooping, despite her effort to raise her voice in alarm. By the time Janus lowers to the ground she has fully lost consciousness.

“You can’t do that!! She’s just doing her job!” Patton furiously whispers as Janus searches her pockets.

“Yeah, well, currently her job would be to shoot me on sight, so excuse me if I would rather not die!” Janus finally victoriously pulls a phone from the soldier’s pocket. Grabbing the soldier’s hand for a second to make her unlock the screen, he then furiously starts texting.

“What are you doing??” Patton repeats, just as frantic.

“Arranging our getaway ride, if all goes well,” Janus says as he finishes the text and hits send. “Now we just need to get out of here and keep hidden until they can come for us!”

“Right… Right!” Patton nods. Oh, why did he do this again?? “I know how we can get out of here! We’ll have to follow-!”

“Patton?”

Patton freezes at that familiar voice. Turning he comes face to face with Virgil, wrapped in his favourite hoodie and sleepily rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. How could he have forgotten his teammate’s insomnia? Or his habit to wander around until he got sleepy??

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Virgil yawns. “Do you want a lecture from Logan about proper sleep schedules? Because trust me, they’re not very-”

Virgil freezes as Janus rises to his feet behind Patton. His eyes dart between him and Janus, gasping as he finally spots the unconscious soldier on the ground.

“You…” Virgil’s voice turns dark, the shadows behind him moving on his unspoken command. “I don’t know how the FUCK you got out, but you will step away from my teammate RIGHT NOW and get back to your cell, or you’ll regret it!”

“No thank you,” Janus smirks. “While I thoroughly enjoyed your hospitality, the room service here is positivelyabominable. Not to mention the horrid excuse you call cuisine. I don’t think I’ll return here soon.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Virgil growls, gathering his famous shadows in his hands.

“Virgil, NO!!” Patton screams and steps between the two before Virgil can throw his attack.

“Patton, get out of the way!”

Patton shakes his head. “No! You have to let us pass, Virge!”

“What do you mean-?” Virgil stops, furious disbelief etching across his face. “…It was you… You helped him escape-!”

“I…” Patton swallows and nods. “Yes, yes I did… But Virgil-! It’s not what you think! We’ve been lied to, Virge!”

“Yes, by HIM!!” Virgil points at Janus, who wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. “You know, the enemy that we’ve tried to capture for literal years??”

“No, not him! The AEP! They’re the ones who lied to us! They’ve been using us, Virge! They used us to… To attack innocent people! We’ve hurt the world instead of saving it! We have to set this right!!”

“What the hell are you talking about-??”

“Virgil, please,” Grabbing Virgil’s hands in his Patton gives his teammate- No, his best friend- a pleading look. “Come with us! Help me take down the organization! They’re the bad guys, Virge! It was never him!” Patton gestures to Janus.

“Oh that’s fine, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus mutters.

“We can fix this, Virgil. You and I!” Patton says, fragile hope growing in his voice. “Please, trust me on this! Let’s run away together from this place and actually help!”

Virgil stares at him, the tense silence stretching on in the hallway like a wire slowly growing taut. Virgil’s eyes flicker between him and Janus indecisively. Patton hopes for a brief second that maybe, just maybe-

His stomach drops when Virgil’s gaze remains on Janus, and just like that the wire snaps.

“You…” Virgil snarls. “I don’t know what lies you fed him-”

“Virgil, please no-!!” Patton pleads, but Virgil shoves him aside.

“But I will not let you get away with it!” The shadows behind him move again, answering their master’s call as they gather around him. “I will take you down for this!!”

“Must we?” Janus sighs exaggeratedly before he straightens himself and grins his lengthening fangs bare. “I suppose I have time in my busy schedule to teach you some manners, Stormcloud.”

Virgil growls and aims his hands towards Janus, the shadows behind him brewing and moving in dark colours without hesitation. Patton doesn't think. Later on he wishes he had. He doesn’t remember moving, yet he sees his hand grab onto the back of Virgil's neck. He doesn't want to see the sparks fly out of his hand, making the Virgil’s body go rigid before promptly becoming weak in his grasp. But it doesn’t matter what Patton wants, as Virgil's body hits the floor with a thud quieter than it should've been.

Paralyzed Patton makes eye contact with Janus over Virgil’s unmoving form. The other man stares at him dumbfounded, uncertainty and shock fighting for the same place on his eyes. Patton looks down, trembling.

Oh god what had he done.

For the second time that evening Patton felt his knees give way beneath him as he fell next to his friend.

“Virge…” Patton whispers, pained regret shaking in his voice.

“Patton-!” Janus walks up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders but Patton barely feels it.

“I’m s-so sorry-!!” Patton sobs over his friend’s unconscious body.

“Patton.” Janus says, his voice so calm that Patton’s muddled mind readily clings to it. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“I-I c-can’t j-just leave him h-here-!!”

“You must. The commotion must have alerted someone. This place might be crawling with guards soon. We have to go.”

Patton looks up in Janus’ eyes, their mismatched colours strangely grounding him and he nods. Janus helps him to his feet, and after one last look towards Virgil, Patton turns and they run.

Much later Patton would look back on this night and barely remember their escape. He leads Janus through the facility on automatic pilot, only managing to avoid capture because of Janus’ vigilance and sharp hearing. In the end Janus has to take out only one additional guard, who had been watching the emergency exit that Patton had lead them too. This soldier went down much easier than the first one. Patton supposed he hadn’t expected anyone to come to the quiet, halfway forgotten exit. But how could Patton forget it? He and Virgil had used this door as kids to escape from training once in a while.

Virgil…

Janus hastily runs through the emergency exit with Patton closely following behind. The cold night air finally shakes Patton's mind awake, away from the phantom feeling of Virgil's neck and how his hand tingles slightly. He almost wishes the tingle hurt.

They run loudly on the pavement, aiming for speed over secrecy. Patton’s breath comes in heavy pants and his lungs prickle, yet he dares not to stop or to look back. When they reach the high fence it takes Patton’s every bit of concentration to stop the electricity singing in the fence, guiding it away from Janus as they climb over it.

The sirens start as they safely land on the other side of the fence.

With the alarms blaring behind them Patton follows Janus to where the concrete leads into worn-in dirt, and where that leads to sticks, leaves, and not many traces of society. Patton's breath hurt in his chest, but knows he can't stop for a moment. He doesn't bother looking behind him either.

After what feels like hours but were more likely minutes, Janus skids to a halt, his breath forming clouds in the cold air as he leans heavily against a tree. Patton leans his hands on his knees, catching his breath. In the distance the alarms continue blaring.

“D-Do…” Patton gulps, exhales. “Do you think we’re safe…?”

Janus looks at him. “I don’t know…” He says, and Patton hates the raw honesty he hears in his voice. He suddenly much prefers the smooth lies his former enemy could spin at a drop of a hat. If they’re caught, he'll suffer Janus' previous fate or worse. Patton doesn't want to think about how it could get worse.

Just as he’s about to sit down, resigned to his new fate, a bright spotlight illuminates their spot in the forest. Patton can’t stop the startled scream as spots dance in his vision at the sudden brightness, the rumbling of an aircraft above them finally overpowering the sound of his wildly beating heart. They had found them already??? Or…

“Ahoy down there!” A nasally voice shouts down over the intercom as a rope is lowered from the aircraft. “Did some clown order a clown car??”

Patton puzzlingly frowns, but besides him Janus grins.

“Hold on, Heart Shock!” Janus grabs the rope with one hand and throws his other arm around Patton’s waist to hoist him up close. “Our ride is here!”

Before Patton can form some kind of protest the rope is hoisted up. A high-pitched shriek tears from his throat as the ground falls away beneath them. Patton never liked flying or heights in general. No matter how many times Roman took him for a flight he never got used to it. So he throws his arms and legs around Janus koala style and buries his face into the other man’s scaled neck. He dares not to peek as they dangle above the ground until he feels hands grab him and Janus. Excited voices ring in his ears as the hands drag them both into the aircraft. As they land on the metal floor with a heavy thud a blush creeps in on Patton’s cheeks when he untangles his arms and legs from Janus’ frame.

“Snake Daddy is in the nest!!” The same nasally voice shrieks over the roaring engines. “HIT THE GAS!! GO GO GO!!!”

The door behind them slams closed, and the aircraft flies off with a speed that throws Patton backwards, making an inelegant roll on the hard metal floor. Janus on the other hand sits up his knees, giving the man that runs up to them an exasperated look.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” Janus sighs. The man gives him a grin that makes his moustache curl up mischievously. Either Patton’s eyes are deceiving him, or the man resembles Roman to an uncanny degree.

“And I told you to get used to your new codename, Double-D!” The man joyfully says. “Deal with it!”

Janus rolls his eyes, but nonetheless grabs the hand stretched out to him. As he’s pulled to his feet Janus throws his arms around the other.

“Remus, you absolute insane wonderful man you,” Janus breathes shakily. “How the fuck did you get here so fast?”

“Are you kidding me??” Remus eagerly returns the embrace. “We’ve been hiding around here for five days now!”

“You what-” Janus reels back, grasping Remus by the shoulders “Why??”

“To rescue you, of course!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake- You promised that if I ever got captured you would continue where I left off! Not risk everything by trying to rescue me!”

“Yeah, well,” Remus shrugs. “You promised me that I would get to watch you use the president’s head as a football some day! And god fucking dammit, you are not getting out of that promise, no matter how hard you try!”

Patton flinches at the gruesome fantasy, but Janus only wetly laughs and draws Remus back into a hug. Over the whole aircraft relieved and excited voices ring, welcoming Janus back.

Amidst the excitement Remus halts as he finally spots Patton, who still sits quietly amongst the excited rebels.

“No fucking way…” Remus breathes. “You actually got us a hostage?”

Patton freezes. As all eyes turn to him, he suddenly remembers again that he’s surrounded by people he previously thought as his enemies. And to them, he still was the enemy.

"Double-D, you should've warned me you would bring a hostage! I would've brought the rougher rope with us!" Remus pulls away from the hug and quickly moves towards a container, which once opened Patton could see was full to the brim with rope of various colours, each appearing thick and rough enough as they were.

Janus dramatically sighed. "He’s not a hostage."

Remus stops rummaging through the container and quirks an eyebrow. "But Heart Attack or whatever is one of those stupid guys! Wait.” Remus squints suspiciously at Janus. “Don't tell me you're breaking up with me and joining his side."

“Not quite,” Janus says as he extends a hand to help Patton to his feet. As he stands Janus lightly places his arm over Patton's shoulders. A shield against the suspicious glares from the rebels around him. "You see, my darlings… He's joining ours."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #superhero AU #eat the rich if this fic doesn't make that clear enough

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maxwell--lord · 4 years

Text

Always Been You

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Rating: M

Words: 2182

Warnings: Sexual tension, language, some angst, fluff.

Summary: Maxwell Lord and you were dating for two years when you walked in on him in the office with an investor and you called it quits- now he’s reaching out to you, a year later, to give you some closure before you leave forever, but what he doesn’t expect is that you feel the same way about him as he still feels about you.

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever really written anything other than poetry and I hope this is received well. I’ve also never uploaded anything like this to tumblr before, so hopefully this works out correctly for me. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

Maxwell groans, gripping the bed sheet in his hand, he's been dreaming of you again- while laying next to another one night stand. He grips the sheet harder before letting out a breathy moan of your name, before he sits straight up in bed and glances at the time. 3:02 am, he's drenched in sweat and the cool air on his skin sends chills down his spine, he sighs and whips the blanket off of him before climbing out of bed. He grabs his phone, tapping the screen to scroll his contact list, selects your name and chooses to send you a text. "Y/N, can we talk? It's been a while- I know. I fucked up- and I wanted to clear the air, before you leave New York forever. I know the timing is bad, I'm sorry. Please give me a call later", he presses send and places his hand to his forehead, squeezing gently and pulling his hand down his face. He looks back at the woman, who is peacefully sleeping, and he thinks that sending you that message might have been a mistake. His eyes widen as he feels his phone buzz in his hand and he thinks "there's no way that she's calling me now, she shouldn't even be awake". He quickly looks down at the phone to see your name across his screen and he scrambles to get out of his bedroom quickly, shutting the door behind him, he swipes his finger across the phone and slowly raises it to his ear "Hello? Maxwell???" you softly speak and his voice trembles "H-hey Y/N" , "Why did you text me? Why do you want to talk? The last time we spoke you couldn't even give me an explanation for what I saw in your office. You literally broke my heart, Max." you say, with pain in your voice and he can sense it, the hurt, still as fresh as it was, a year ago. He sighs "Y/N, I fucked up. I was only worried about how I could keep the business running. I wasn't worried about the one thing that mattered most to me", you cut him off "Oh, and now, suddenly, a year later you want to talk to me about it? Now that I am going to leave to get away from seeing you in everything I look at? Maxwell, please spare me the bullshit" anger now penetrating your voice "Y/N, listen please. What you saw wasn't me- I mean it was me, but it wasn't me. Alice was our biggest investor and I didn't think she was a threat to our relationship, not until that day... Not until she pulled me into her.. I know what it looked like and I know I should have heeded your warnings and your feelings before, but I promise you- I never wanted anything to do with her" he sputtered with anguish in his voice. You softly spoke "Max, a-are you t-telling me that she propositioned you and..." you trail off, your breath hitching as you gasp for air, your throat swelling and your eyes filling with tears. Maxwell can tell you're beginning to cry and he inhales sharply "Y/N, please don't cry. It would be easier to talk to you in person, I know its now.." he looks over at the clock "3:30 am, but if you want to meet for breakfast at the Radio?", your lip trembles and tears stream down your cheeks.. a year has gone by and you're just finding out the truth, learning that what happened wasn't his idea and he wasn't comfortable with the situation and your breath trembles as you speak "M-max, I don't think I can wait- is there any chance we can meet now? You can come to my place" you ask. Max looks over his shoulder at the woman sleeping in his bed and he thinks for a second "Yes, I would like that more than waiting. Let me get dressed and I'll drive over" he says and you can feel a smile crack at the sides of your mouth "Okay Max, I'll unlock the door for you. I'll see you soon." you sigh and you hang up the phone.

Maxwell walks over to the bed, sighing and looking at the clock, it blinks 3:45 am and he gently nudges the woman until she wakes and softly says "I will have an uber here for you in 15, you need to go, please. I'm sorry I brought you here, it was a mistake" and she looks up at him in the glow of the light from the city "It's alright, Maxwell, I was going to sneak out while you were on the phone, but you were pacing around the room and I didn't want to startle you or make a ruckus, it seemed like you are trying to fix a relationship that meant everything to you, and I truly hope that she is everything you’ve ever wanted" she said, without any regrets or anger in her voice. He walks to his bathroom, flicks on the shower and removes his boxers, slipping into the shower, as his guest shows herself out. Meanwhile, you're scrambling around your apartment, tidying up, you didn't want him to see your vulnerability and the sadness still lingering in your apartment. You set the Keurig up to brew some coffee and place a cup on the machine and press the button, nervously pacing your kitchen as you wait for the brew to finish so that you could make a second cup for Maxwell.

You look over at the clock and it says 4:25 am and you startle a bit as you hear the handle on your front door grind as Maxwell opens it and enters your apartment. You hear his footsteps louder than you've ever noticed before as he walks in and closes your door, turning around and walking towards you in the kitchen. He looks so perfect, so composed and you have your hair up in a messy ponytail, a loose shirt, tired bags under your eyes and you keep staring at him as he crosses the floor to you. "H-hey M-maxwell, you look amazing" you stutter out, holding up his cup of coffee towards him as he approaches, and you sip yours as he gently takes the cup out of your hand and leans against the counter across from you, smiling before saying "You look as beautiful as ever, Y/N, I've missed you so much, it hurts every single day", you blush and shift on your feet, while looking at him "So, what are we doing, Maxwell?" you avert your eyes so he can't see your tears welling up. Maxwell sets his cup down on the counter, gently, with a clink and steps towards you, slowly lifting your chin to look him in the eyes. Your eyes meet his soft brown eyes as they gaze into yours and you tremble, he takes your cup and places it on the counter next to you.

"Y/N, I know you've taken the job in DC and that you'll be leaving in a few days, but I couldn't let you go without telling you what happened- giving you that closure and asking for you to not hate me anymore" he swallows sharply and his lips pull back in when he does "I'm not here to ask you to stay, or to stop you from going, I just want to give you the closure that I've heard you have been wanting." he says as he's looking down into your gaze. Your eyes well up with tears and you place your hand on his wrist to pull his hand from your chin, sighing, "Max, I took that job because I was being haunted by seeing you everywhere, in everything I did. It's been a year and I am still so deeply in love with you, that hearing about your escapades just keep destroying me and I need to get away. I didn't even want this job with the agency, I don't want to work for them. I want to go back to my normal office job, with you. But every time I did something and started feeling happy again- someone came around and rubbed you in my face" you say breath hitching and tears rolling down your face "asking why I ever let you go and shit I just don't want to go back into". He lifts his other hand and gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with a sigh, looking away, you can see the pain in his eyes.

"I told you I made a mistake and I threw away everything we had, to try to advance our companies investments. When you left me that day, my heart broke into a thousand pieces and I went looking for anything to fill that void... the loss of you, I turned to meaningless sex, I've slept with 6 women since then... I've not called any of them again, and I felt sick after each one, always dreaming of you- waking up in a sweat, gripping my bed sheets. Standing here in front of you, is the happiest I've been since you left. Y/N, I am still in love with you. You're all I've ever wanted." he chuckles lightly and cups your cheeks with his hands "remember that song by Blink-182? "All of This".. the one I sent you 6 months back?" he smirks a bit and you nod your head and speak softly “yes, the one that I responded to telling you to not contact me...but contact is all I wanted from you”, still anxiously shaking in his hands "Again, I wait for this to pull apart, to break my time in two, another night with her, but I'm always wanting you" he says- "It's always been you, I want to ask you to give me a second chance but I also don't want to take away from you, this opportunity to work with the agency, even if you say you don't want this, it’s all you’ve dreamed of for years, Y/N." and you bite your lower lip gently, looking away from his eyes and fidgeting your fingers into each other, you inhale sharply "Max, kiss me. Kiss me like you're never going to see me again- please" Maxwell smiles "I thought you'd never ask" and he leans down and places his lips against yours, his warm but familiar lips send a shiver down your spine as you wrap your arms over his shoulders and place one of your hands in his hair, his hand still on your cheek, his other hand drops to the small of your back and pulls you in close against him and he kisses you with the passion he had the very last time you kissed him. Your hand plays with his hair and he gently pulls away from the kiss, looking at you, holding you against him. Your breath hitching and your heart rate is higher than usual, you lick your lips, longing to still feel his lips against yours.

"Max, I.. I don't want to go to DC and be away from you, I want to be with you, be by your side" you blink several times and your shaky voice begins to calm "You won't be taking this opportunity away from me. I had the option of staying here and working or going to DC. If you will have me again, I'll request that I stay here for this job, I'll just need to turn a room into an office here". Maxwell's eyes light up at you asking if he'd have you "Y/N, I'll always have you, I love you more than words can express." He glances around your apartment before looking back into your eyes "You don't need to make an office here, you can have a private office, next to mine, in our building". You look at him, smiling and your thoughts racing with how much you've missed him and how right this feels to you. "Max, I love you. I would love to have an office next to you" your breath hitches a little "I will call the agency when the main office opens at 8:00 am, and change my assignment to here, instead of DC." as you run your fingers through the hair at the back of his head still, "I won't leave you again, Max. I don't think either of our hearts could handle it". He chuckles gently and then moves both of his hands down to your butt, lifting you up to sit you on the counter in front of him. " 'll never make another mistake where I could lose you, ever. I promise you, Y/N, I love you- more than any words can express", looking into your eyes, that are now level with his. You pull his lips into yours and kiss him deeply as the sun rises and fills your apartment with orange and yellow hues against both of your flesh, and the sunlight glinting off of the glass buildings surrounding your Skytop apartment.

Tag list:

@starlightmornings

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord fluff #maxwell lord angst #maxwell lord x y/n #max lord x reader #max lord fluff #max lord angst #max lord fanfic

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