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xcrystalzero · 3 years

Text

it's called a starconch

pairing: childe x gn!reader

summary: a seashell shouldn't hold as much meaning as childe lets it. and yet, he can't seem to let go.

note: i think i'm going through my angsty teenage stage as a literal adult.... also this shit long, good luck! also SPOILER WARNING HERE FOR THE LIYUE ARCHON QUEST DONT READ IF YOU HAVENT FINISHED IT!!!!!!!

Childe had always loved the ocean. Coming from a little fishing village on the coast, the Snezhnayan ocean had always felt like home, but that wasn't the ocean he was talking about.

It was so warm here compared to his homeland, the coasts lined with fine golden sand that crumbled under his feet and shells of every color under the sun scattered about. One in particular caught his eye and Childe knelt down slowly to take it in his hand.

"It's called a Starconch!"

He nearly spun around in panic as the voice seemed to echo around him. He hadn't heard that voice in long enough that it almost sounded real, and yet, there was no way that could have been the case.

With a soft sigh, he turned his gaze back out towards the sea. Starconch...

~~~

Liyue was a country of colors. The moment he had first stepped off of the boat and into Liyue Harbor, he had been awed by the way that city seemed to shine. The warm light of a thousand lanterns hanging from every building he could see pushed back the darkness of night, bathing the place and the people in a golden glow.

And in that golden glow, he saw you.

"Welcome to Liyue Sir Tartaglia!" Your smile was warm like the city around you and yet, Childe sensed that it wasn't entirely genuine. "I am [name], a representative on behalf of the Liyue Qixing. It is an honor to have you in our harbor." Ah, that was why. Well, you were smart not to trust the Fatui who had just docked in the city you were meant to protect.

Well, two could play at that game. It took him but a moment to pull his usual grin to his face as he extended a hand. "Quite the warm welcome! Trust me, the honor is all mine."

He didn't miss the way the side of your mouth quirked slightly upwards at that as you regarded him with a somewhat bemused expression before returning the gesture.

"And please, call me Childe."

~~~

"Fancy seeing you here." Childe had been heading out on a request to monitor a Fatui base near the coast and had thought to grab some food for the road before he left when he saw your figure weaving between the various stands set up around Liuili Pavilion.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the way his heart seemed to jump at the sight of you though. It wasn't as though he didn't see you often. His position as a foreign diplomat and your role as a representative of the Qixing made it so that communication between you two was an all-too normal occurrence. Almost every day as luck would have it and yet, he wasn't sure if he would ever get bored of the prospect of running into you.

You turned to face him and Childe couldn't manage to hold back the laugh that erupted out of him. Your cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk, likely filled with a huge bite of the pastry you were currently cradling protectively in your hands as though you thought he was going to steal it from you.

Your cheeks went red as you threw a hand up in front of your face as you finished your bite before turning a glare back on him. "What..."

"Hungry?" He teased, stepping around you to scan the stand's wares as he pulled his wallet out.

"Shut it..." You muttered, promptly folding the wrapping of your pastry up over the top and slipping it into your pocket. "I thought you were Ganyu... She's always yelling at me not to eat so many sweets but they're just so good..."

Childe chuckled at that, earning him another sideways glare from your direction. "Ah, so is that your weakness then?" He plucked a handful of fruits from the stall as well as a pair of lemon tarts sitting in a small container to the side, offering the money for them to the stand owner as he stowed them in his knapsack.

"What do you need to know about my weaknesses Fatui?" Ah yes, there is was. The thing that had drawn Childe to you in the first place. The city of Liyue was warm and so were the people, but there were times when for you, that warmth rose into a heated blaze. You weren't afraid to challenge him, to dart across the line drawn by diplomacy and come just close enough that he was tempted to chase after you when you retreated.

There was a slight smirk on your face as you waited for his answer. He sighed, shrugging with a soft smile. "I mean, it can't hurt right?"

"You're insufferable." He might have been offended if you actually meant that. Thankfully, that smirk was still there so he had nothing to worry about.

"Say, I'm going out to the coast right now for some inspections. You think you can spare a moment to come with me?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Why me?" You questioned immediately, suspicion evident.

"U-Um... Well it'll be a little suspicious if a Fatui Harbinger just takes off out of nowhere right?" An awful excuse truly. There had been multiple instances already in his short time in Liyue that Childe had just taken off to get done whatever it was that he needed to get done. In fact, it was something of a known fact within the Bank that he enjoyed heading out for smaller tasks every once in a while just to get some combat practice and stretch his muscles. That being said, there was no way you knew that so...

"So you want someone to account for you, is that it?" you remarked, crossing your arms over your chest as you studied him.

"Well..."

"Okay sure."

He shouldn't have let his gaze fly up to meet yours as quickly as he did. He shouldn't have let the jolt of happiness he felt show in his eyes, or allowed his smile to become the slightest bit more real. But he did, and he was sure that you noticed.

"A-Alright then, let's go!"

~~~

"Well, that went well." You clapped your hands together, brushing off any dirt that had accumulated as you made your way down the shore, taking a seat on a small outcropping or rock placed conveniently in the shade of a large tree.

Childe trailed after, taking big, dramatic steps as he tried to keep the ever shifting sand out of his shoes. "Sure did..." He heard your laughter and despite the fake pout he wore, the sound was nothing less than heartwarming.

"Take your shoes off!" you encouraged, kicking your feet up to show that you had already done a much. After a moment of hesitation, he complied, slipping his boats off and tossing them to the side as he took a seat beside you, staring out at the ocean.

Childe would have loved to say that the silence was comfortable. However, the truth of the matter was that he felt strange. The crash of waves onto the shore was nearly drowned out by the pounding of his own heart as though the thing were beating inside of his head instead of his chest. Well, they had been moving for a while, maybe he was just tired. Or dehydrated. His palms were sweaty though, that was new... Likely just the fact that he was wearing his coat. He wasn't built for the warm Liyue climate after all!

"Childe?" Oh no, your hand was on his shoulder. His already deafening heartbeat felt as though it was speeding up further, the heat in his body seeming to concentrate at the point where your hand made contact with him.

Wait. None of this was normal. All of these feelings seemed to be related to you in some way or another. How strange. Was he ... nervous?

"You called?" He didn't recall thinking those words, but they were already out of his mouth, complete in true "Childe" fashion with a teasing tone and smile. Wow, he was even better at faking it than he thought.

"You were completely spaced out... Don't tell me a little inspection is all it takes to tire out a Fatui Harbinger!" It sounded like just another dig at him but Childe was sure that he heard just the slightest bit of concern hidden in your joking words. The realization did not help his current confusion in the slightest.

"Nothing wears me out! You on the other hand, look like you could use a snack. Now, if only someone brought one..." He tossed back before digging into his bag and pulling out the little carton holding the pair of lemon tarts he had purchased earlier that day. He didn't miss the way your eyes lit up before you pointedly glanced away.

"You think you can bribe me into being nicer to you?" you scoffed.

"Whenever did I say anything like that?" Childe popped open the top, holding the tray out to you. After a moment, you hesitantly reached out, plucking one of the little tarts out.

"Thanks..."

Childe smiled as he took the other half of the pair, immediately taking a huge bite out of the side, savoring the way the tartness of the lemon contrasted with the buttery, flaky crust. "Anytime!"

"I have something for you too..." Popping the last of the treat into his mouth, Childe turned to face you only to see that you were holding something out to him. Taking it immediately, he held it up to his face, turning it about in his hands in confusion.

"Is this, a shell?"

When he looked back at you for confirmation, he was somewhat surprised to see a slight blush beginning to spread over the tops of your cheeks.

"It's called a Starconch! They're native to Liyue so I didn't think you'd seen one before." you offered as clarification as Childe continued to inspect the little thing.

"It's pretty. But why for me?"

There was a pause. "It may have reminded me of you..."

There it was again. The panicked rhythm of his heart and the warmth and the confusion. "Oh? This shell did?"

"It... It looked like your eyes. It's kind of pretty..."

Childe's gravestone was going to look so stupid. Here lies Tartaglia, 11th Harbinger in service of the Tsaritsa. Defeated by a seashell and a compliment about his eyes.

"What are you looking at me like that for Fatui?" He was drawn back to his present, sadly still alive self and your blushing face as you awaited his reaction. He attempted to pull a self-satisfied smirk to his face, combing his mind for a response that was just the perfect balance of confident and joking and accepting, and came up empty.

He tried, he tried as hard as he could but he couldn't think of anything. Anything except you that was. Slowly, he set the Starconch down beside him as he turned fully to face you.

"[name]?"

"Yes?" To your credit, you showed no sign of wanting to retreat. He could see the flash of panic in your eyes as he suddenly came closer and yet, you made no move to pull away.

"Do you really think of me as just disgusting Fatui?"

"Huh?" Apparently, that had not been what you were expecting. You blinked twice, evidently confused.

"Is that what you think of me?" he reiterated, not daring to break eye contact in case it gave you a chance to pull away.

"I mean, you are definitely Fatui but I don't think of you as disgusting or anything..." You offered, eyes wide as though you weren't sure what answer he wanted from you.

"And just to be clear, an honorable representative of the Liyue Qixing wouldn't want to be seen with the Fatui right?" There was a slight waver in his tone that he couldn't seem to get rid of it. He hated it. Rather than the usual confidence that oozed from his every word, he sounded unsure. Hesitant even.

It was you who broke eye contact then, glancing down at your hands as you kneaded them nervously in your lap. "Well, they probably shouldn't..." His heart dropped. "But..."

Childe's eyes flew open as you pressed your lips against his, your own eyes squeezed so tightly shut he was sure it hurt. It took a second of coaxing but he found himself slowly leaning into you, hands coming up to wrap around your waist as yours coiled over his shoulders before traveling up into his hair. He felt you smiling into the kiss and the thought spurred him on as he pulled you in until you were all but sitting on his lap.

It wasn't particularly fiery or passionate or anything he believed your first kiss would be like, but there was something else there. It felt like release. When you began to pull away, Childe let out a soft whine, lips following yours as you drifted tantalizingly out of range.

"Relax harbinger." you drawled, glancing up at him with half-lidded eyes, your expression tempting enough that he almost threw himself at you right then and there. "We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere."

~~~

"I think this is turning into an actual problem."

Childe pouted in response to your remark as he continued to organize all of the starconches you had collected into neat little rows on the sand before you. There had to be at least 50 of them, all in different shapes and sizes of every shade blue one could imagine.

This had become your new ritual. Every free evening the two of you had, you would come back to this spot, the location of the first starconch exchange. What had started as a cute little bonding activity though, as with anything with Childe, had quickly become a competition. Now, it was a contest as the two of you continuously tried to one-up each other in finding the most beautiful starconch.

"It's fine! They're pretty right?" He turned towards you, stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "They remind you of my eyes remember?"

You rolled your eyes as you straightened out the harbinger's less-than even rows. "Ah, how I regret saying that..."

"Rude!"

When all of the little shells had been perfectly arranged, the two of you stood back to consider them.

"I call the top right."

"Hey, I wanted that one!"

"Too bad, I was quicker."

Childe pouted again but didn't protest as he bent down to pick up the shell you had chosen and then one that he liked as well. When he reached out to offer it to you however, you reached for his other hand, grabbing the shell he had picked.

"Huh?"

You smiled. "You like this one and you like me, so I get this one. "

"I am ... confused," Childe confessed, though the smile adorning his lips contrasted his words. He reached for your free hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, tugging you away from your little shaded safe-haven and towards the water.

"Hey!" you protested though you let him pull you there, laughing the entire time. "What are you doing, we don't have a change of clothes!"

"Doesn't matter! It's a waste to come to the beach and never touch the water, don't you think?" Childe grinned as he pulled the two of you into the waves just in time for one to crash down, instantly soaking the two of you from waist down.

You gaped in faux shock as you swatted at the man's arm. "Childe!"

He laughed, a free, unrestrained sound unlike the one he was so used to performing in front of others when trying to remain the ever charming and relaxed Fatui diplomat the people of Liyue had to see him as.

Childe. He had told you to call him that. That was what everyone called him after all, and yet, it didn't sound right anymore. Not coming from you.

"Childe?" It was a question this time, as though you had been able to sense that something was amiss with your lover.

"Ajax," he replied.

"What?"

"Ajax, that's my name. My real one anyway."

Your eyes widened as you stared at him in shock, the hand you had resting against his arm slipping slowly down back to your side. "Is... Is it okay for you to tell me that?"

Childe scoffed, running a hand through his hair. Damn, this was more embarrassing than he thought it would be. It was just a name! "It's my name, and I want you to call me it. There shouldn't be a problem with that right?"

You stared at him for a moment longer before leaning in, placing soft lips against his for just a moment. "Alright then, Ajax. Don't regret it."

And then you dunked him, pushing him down the moment the enxt wave crested over you two. When he pulled himself back to the surface, sputtering in shock, there was a dangerous grin on his face.

"Oh, it's on now!"

~~~

"What's happening with that traveller you've been talking to recently?" There was nothing accusatory about your tone and yet, Childe couldn't help but hear is as an accusation.

"Nothing much," he shrugged. "They're looking for someone and the information they've dug up has been pretty useful so far."

"Useful huh..." Well now you were definitely suspicious. Childe felt bad about it, he really did, but there was no way he could involve you in any of this. His loyalty was to the Tsaritsa and he was required to carry out her orders. With your loyalty in line with the Qixing, he had no doubt that you would be at odds with the Fatui's plans in the coming weeks, but there was nothing he could do about that. What you didn't know couldn't hurt you.

If worst came to worst and he was forced to attack Liyue however, he had already made preparations. A quick look at your schedule for the coming weeks had confirmed that you were going to be taking a quick trip to Fontaine for some business you had chosen not to disclose with him. Not that he particularly cared what it was that you were doing, just that you would be gone when everything went south. As long as you weren't hurt, everything would be fine.

"They're a nice kid honestly! I introduced them to Zhongli yesterday and they seem to be getting along quite well!" Childe offered. You quirked an eyebrow at him, recognizing an olive branch when you heard it.

"I mean, Zhongli is a hard man to hate." You took the branch.

"Which reminds me, we're still on for dinner tonight right?" Childe could pat himself on the back for how smooth that conversation shift was. You seemed less impressed though as you rolled your eyes at him.

"I guess if I have to..."

"Hey!" You were laughing again and Childe felt his heart soften. He hated this game of keeping secrets from you, but if it kept you safe, kept you happy and content and laughing, he might be able to play the game for just a bit longer.

~~~

It felt like you were going to crush his ribcage, but Childe wouldn't have it any other way. He was sure that his grip on you was just as strangling as he buried his face in your neck.

Slowly, you pulled yourself away from him, eyes sad even as you mustered a smile to your face. "I'll be back in 3 weeks max okay! That's not that long!"

"Yes it is." Childe didn't mince his words and didn't miss your flinch at his statement. He wanted to badly to grab onto you and not let you take a step closer to that boat. To drag you back to his apartment with him and sit you down there until this was all over. But he couldn't.

You would be safer in Fontaine. You wouldn't be part of anything that happened. And best of all, if this all went fine, you wouldn't ever have to know what he did. He didn't want to lie to you, but he couldn't see a way around it this time.

Instead of voicing as much, he pulled you back in for a final kiss, not caring that there were definitely people watching and gaping at the show he was putting on. You hummed softly but didn't do much to fight him, letting him press himself into you as you gently brushed some stray strands of his way hair out of his face.

He only let go when the ship's captain sounded the horn in impatience, though his half-smile made it clear that he wasn't particularly mad at the young couple's display. You squeezed his hand once more.

"I'll see you soon okay Ajax."

"Be safe [name]." You nodded smiling at him once more before slowly detangling your fingers from his and making your way up the ramp onto the ship.

Childe waved until the ship had completely left the harbor, even when it was clear that there was no way you could still see him. When the shape of the ship had finally faded behind the sea fog, he grudgingly turned to make his way back to the Bank, only to be faced with a nervous looking Fatui recruit who nearly jumped when they made eye contact.

"M-Master Childe! There's some new information you should probably know about."

Childe raised his eyebrows in a silent question and when the recruit nodded, he took a slow breath it. So it was starting.

~~~

"Master Childe!" Ekaterina greeted him the moment he stepped through the doors of Northland Bank. He mustered the strength to give her a quick wave, even as his entire body ached at the slightest movement. The Foul Legacy transformation really was something but he wasn't sure he would ever truly get used to the backlash.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well enough," he lied. After that stunt that Signora and Zhongli had just pulled on him, he wasn't in the best mood at the moment. "What is the situation like?"

Ekaterina paused and Childe narrowed his eyes at the way some strange expression had crept suddenly onto her face. "What happened?"

"Well, you're quite the wanted man... It seems word has gotten out about your involvement in all this, though I'm not quite sure how..." The traveller huh? Well, that much was expected considering how things had gone. If only they hadn't gotten in his way. Of course, he had relished in the battle they had been able to share, but it would most definitely have been cleaner if they hadn't been around.

"That much is expected," he said with a soft laugh. Ekaterina offered him a thin smile, and that was when he knew that something was wrong. "There's something more isn't there?"

"Um... There was something..."

"Well, spit it out then."

"There were a few casualties in the event..."

"Really?" Childe was genuinely shocked by that. "Outside of the Millelith? I thought the adepti would have been able to protect everyone within the city."

"Yes well, most of the people in the city were fine... It's just, there were some just outside of the border..." Ekaterina fumbled with her words, eyes downcast in a way that was starting to worry Childe.

"Like?"

"Well, there was a ship that turned around because of a storm up ahead and ran straight into Osial's torrents," she finally spit it out, eyes flashing with panic when she finally looked back up at him.

"A ship? A ship..." Childe's blood ran cold. "A ship going where?"

"... Fontaine sir."

The next few moments may have been filled with silence to an outsider watching, but Childe's head was filled with a roaring. He heard voices and people and the sound of his blood rushing through his body and the air filling his lungs as he heaved in breath after breath. It was all just noise, there was so much noise.

Childe grabbed onto the counter as his feet collapsed from under him, breath coming in thick inhales as he struggled to gain purchase. No. This, this wasn't happening. There was no way.

"Where is the ship?" he managed to get out between breaths, eyes flashing up to Ekaterina. He wasn't sure if she squeaked in fright or it was just his delirious mind playing tricks on him, but she answered him anyway, hurt registering even in her voice.

"It washed up on shore this morning... There was no sign of anyone who had been on-board..."

This wasn't real. Childe's vision was starting to go dark, black edges creeping slowly inwards as he struggled to sit back up.

"That... That can't be possible. They're here. They probably made it back. They're waiting for me. I have to get to them." He attempted to push himself to his feet but all the strength in his body was gone. The black in his vision was growing and without warning, he found himself slumped against the cold tile of the Northland Bank floor.

"Master Childe!" Ekaterina's worried voice registered somewhere in his brain but the darkness was slowly encroaching.

His fingers attempted to clutch at something, only to find the chilly smoothness of tile beneath him. This was a dream, some fever nightmare brought on my the transformation. It was fine, he would open his eyes and everything would be fine. He could already see you, the little smirk on your face as you teased him for getting so worked up over nothing. Oh, you'd have a good laugh about this one.

And it was with the image of you in his mind that Childe passed out.

~~~

Childe barely remembered the weeks that had followed. He distinctly remembered not going to the funeral, partially because he would be arrested on the spot, but mostly because that would mean accepting it all, and he was not ready for that.

He still wasn't sure he accepted it.

And so, here he was. This wasn't your spot, the little cove with the rock and perfectly placed tree where you were constantly unearthing the most perfect starconches, but it was the Liyue shore, and that was all it took. Childe studied the shell in his hand for a moment, brushing the remaining flecks of sand off slowly as he did.

This was the prettiest one he had seen in a while. There weren't any visible cracks and the color was the richest blue, exactly like the one you had given him so long ago.

Childe considered the conch for a moment longer before sliding it into his pocket and turning away from waves.

"Why? Why won't you move on?"

Childe sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat as he trudged up the shore. The little shell rubbed against his fingers and even though he knew there was no one there, he spoke out loud.

"It reminds me of you. Everything does."

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fic #genshin impact fic #childe #tartaglia #genshin tartaglia #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #ajax #genshin ajax

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pretoriafics · 3 years

Text

If I wasn't a goddamn werewolf - Pt. 3

You find out that Derek is your Alpha, and he will be the one who will teach you how to defend yourself. Word count: 2.676 Pairings: Reader x Derek Contain: Pure angst!!; Derek being a dick; Derek being a sad puppy Warnings: English is not my main language <3; Inappropriate language TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST PART 1 | PART 4 Gif credits here

Your world turned upside down. But, at least, you had Laura with you.

Both of you never were too close. Laura was always really nice to you when you saw her a few times at Derek's loft. Your conversations were superficial most of the time, but if you and Laura were doing nothing, both of you could talk for hours. Of course, you guys stand back from each other after that argument with Derek that made you so heartbroken.

But then, you were bitten.

Laura was the only Hale you were significantly close now. You only spoke with Cora sometimes, and you didn't meet Talia yet... You didn't meet Peter either, and even if you had, you surely will not stay close to him now. Well, you were pretty close to Derek, but now you don't want to see him even if he appears painted in gold in front of you. So, Laura was the one who was helping you to understand the world you are now part of.

She explained everything to you: Laura admits that her entire family was made of werewolves, but you didn't need to be afraid of it. Laura told you, even, that she needed to run away from Beacon Hills, and because of it, Derek thought she was killed by her own uncle. She was the best mentor you could ever ask for. During your first two weeks as a werewolf, Laura lent you a few books so you could read and learn more about your new world. It was only after reading a few books and learning a few things that you finally went on your first pack meeting.

You were driving your car to the new Hale house. You were pretty anxious about everything and with no idea of what to expect. You were trying to stay calm, focused, and trying so hard not to think about Derek and all the drama surrounding his name. Of course, Laura knew about your anxiety. Your hands were sweating, your heart was beating fast, and your body language was tense. There is just one thing Laura didn't tell you, and she would do it right now.

"Uhn, so (Y/N)..." She started, taking care to say the right words "I told you that everyone would help you with the knowledge about the supernatural and all... I told you about the hunters... But did I told you how could you defend yourself against them?"

"No." You said, looking at her for one second and already expecting the kind of news that would let you disconcerted. "But I can imagine. I mean, I just need to attack them, am I right?"

"Sometimes, but sometimes not... I mean, we train our betas to be able to defend themselves. We will do the same with you. That's why I requested you to wear your gym clothes."

"Oh, okay" Well, isn't seems that bad. Your body relaxed. "What do you will teach me?"

"Me? Nothing. Derek will do it. This is at his charge, he's the alpha. Your alpha."

You took a peek at Laura, with your body starting to get tense again and your heart running fast inside your chest. Derek would teach you self-defense? And he was your alpha? Oh, God. You didn't even reply to her.

"I mean" Laura continued, after some seconds of tense silence "Sometimes I help him with it. Yesterday I was helping Erica with it. She is each day better."

"But can't you help me with it instead of Derek?"

"No. I would love, but... The Hale Pack is not a matriarchy anymore."

You let out a long sigh, with your body tense and a bad mood dominating you. Without a sign of doubt, you're still so fallen by him... But things have happened between you both. And suddenly, the scenes of your argument with Derek invade your mind.

It was exactly one month since your first kiss with him. The sky was with a bright moon and full of stars. Oh, you remember that sky like it was yesterday! It would be a pretty romantic night: You would tell Derek that you were been in love with him even before the first time you felt the taste of his lips on yours. You were hoping that he felt the same. After all, Derek was so caring and so sweet to you...

You were wearing a red dress because you remembered the night he said to you how beautiful you were wearing red, and how much that color suits you. With shaking hands of anxiety, you were stopped in front of the loft door, with a low gaze and playing with your own fingers when Derek opens the door.

Your eyes meet his, and still anxious you gave him a sweet smile. You felt your cheeks burning when you noticed his green eyes running through your body, looking at you with your red dress.

"Hi." You said, hesitantly and low, with your sweet smile still on your lips. However, despite Derek's eyes run through your body, looking at you with that red dress, he didn't say anything. Actually, his face was pretty cold. That made you shrink, with your smile disappearing on your lips, thinking that maybe you didn't choose the right dress.

"Hi." Derek replied, forcing a smile on you. He gave a step left, letting you the space you needed to come into his loft. "Come in."

You know that there's something wrong now. After the first kiss of both of you, Derek always receives you at his loft with a soft kiss. What was happening?

You came into the loft and sit on the couch, looking at him. Derek closes the door and walks to the table, saving a few sheets into a briefcase. It was like you were invisible. Confused, you look at him and, hesitant, you had started to talk.

"Uhn... I was thinking that maybe we could eat pizza and watch a movie tonight. Alissa told me about a new movie on Netflix that-"

"I can't."

And he even looks at you when he replies to you so coldly. You felt as if cold water had been thrown at you. Flummoxed, you look at him, and he isn't looking at you, still fiddling with that stupid briefcase. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence fills the loft until you find the strength to talk.

"Why? Are you busy? I can return tomorrow, don't worry."

"I'll hang out with a girl soon. I'll pick her up at her house in a few minutes, and I really don't want to get late."

Your heart breaks into thousand pieces, and you already felt your eyes watering. What?

"...A girl?"

"Yeah." Derek closes the briefcase and lets it into the table. He crosses his arms and, with a cold face, looks at you. "A girl."

"I didn't know that you were hanging out with other women."

Derek arches his eyebrows and lets out a low and short chuckle of derision.

"Do you really thought I would stop seeing other women just because of you?"

You stare at him in shock. Your heartbroken threatened to be exposed in tears, but you tried to hold them. A little bit embarrassed and feeling foolish as never before, you shrink on the sofa, staring at your own hands. Your voice was low.

"I thought that we're having something special."

Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket on the chair and wearing it.

"I just wanted some fun, (Y/N). You can't blame me."

Derek was punching your heart word by word. Why was he treating you with such indifference? You look at him, with a tear escaping from your eyes and running through your face.

"So is that all I was for you? Just someone who you could have some fun with?"

Derek let out a long sigh, sitting on the chair and staring at you with his crossed arms.

"I can't understand. What did I do with you that made you thought you were so special?"

"Are you kidding with me, Derek?" Your voice gets louder in anger and shaky with your cry. You can't hold your tears anymore. In anger and hurt, you stood up from the couch. "Everything! You were just... playing with me during this time?"

"Oh, crap. Goddamn women and all of this silly sentimentalism. You are nothing to me, so stop acting like a..." He stares at you, with his eyes cutting you like blades "...Like a stupid teenager in love."

Derek spits those words with such disgust that you just felt another blade inside your chest, cutting what has left from your heart. You hadn't the strength to reply to him, and even if you had, the news tears that were running through your cheeks and that knot in cry on your throat would restrain you.

"Look." Derek stood up from the chair and touches your arms. You shrink yourself. His touch was the last thing you want now "Why don't we solve this soon, and you tell me why you came here?"

Disgusted by his touch, you grab his wrists and move his hands away from you.

"I just came here to say that I think I was falling for you, and I would like to know if you felt the same. But you clearly don't, and I'm the fool here. I'm going home. Good luck with your date."

You were sitting on the couch in the living room of the Hale house, just waiting your turn to start the training. Your fingers were sliding the screen of your phone. However, you can't pay attention to it because you were so anxious about interacting with Derek since the episode in the supermarket. You were feeling mixed feelings: You miss him so much, but at the same time, you were still hurt with the supermarket episode and with the arguing both of you had on his loft. You just want to run away from him, but he is your goddamn Alpha now. Things would be easier if Laura was your Alpha. However, with her time away from the city, Derek took her sister's place. It occurred when he killed his uncle and became the Alpha he is nowadays.

Oh damn, you were pretty sure everyone knew about your anxiety. Actually, you had noticed the older woman in the house looking at you from the kitchen sometimes. Yeah, Talia was looking at you and pretty curious about you as well. However, she knew you just needed some time. Then, at the right time, she could meet you.

You heard the door from the basement being opened, and you saw from the living room couch Erica walking in wide footsteps through the entrance hall, going out of the house. Damn, she seems so pissed off! Boyd was trying to reach her.

Laura appeared after Boyd, rolling her eyes while walking from the entrance hall to the living room.

"Goddamn teenagers." She fell onto the couch close to you, with her eyes looking at the ceiling "Your turn. Derek is waiting for your downside."

Oh, Gosh. Your heart began to run faster in anxiety, and the wanting of just run away from there arouse even stronger. Well, maybe if Laura went with you, all of that could be bearable.

"You come?"

"Not yet." She said, looking at you. "It will take time until I'll be able to watch your training."

"How much?" You questioned, standing up from the couch.

"Maybe I could watch your training next week."

You were so fucked up! Would you need to spend all that time alone with Derek? Oh, man...

"Uh... Okay."

You replied, letting out a long sigh and accepting your current situation. You compress your own lips and walk to the basement door. You gotta be strong now and needs to face it.

You open the basement door, gaining access to a small mezzanine that overlooks the entire basement below. Derek had his back to you, sending a message on his cell phone. When he felt your smell, he turned to see you.

He was so damn relieved to see you there, healthy and so beautiful. Lycanthropy suits you, and the bite made you more beautiful than ever. This time, Derek was not with a cold expression for you. Actually, you could saw a hint of sweetness inside of his green eyes. However, all Derek could see on yours was melancholy.

All he could think about is how much you probably hate him. Derek wanted so badly to ask you if you were okay and tell you that you weren't alone to deal with your new lycanthropy. He wanted so bad to tell you how worried he was about you and how he wasted both of your times staying away from you. Damn, Derek wants so much to recover all the time both of you were lost away from each other... Maybe you could recover those time in some vacations, or just staying in a cheap motel cuddling each other and laughing.

But he wasn't strong enough to be rejected by you. So, he conducts your training as distant as possible. His voice was stable all the time, and all you did was listen to his instructions and look at him just to see the movements you should do and nothing more.

When your training was over, he just looks at you while you drink the water from your bottle, with your back to him. Derek was reuniting all of his courage and strength to talk with you. At the same time, he was hiding all his fear of being rejected for you. Then, he finally gets to say something.

"During all this time, I was trying to keep you safe."

You took the water bottle out of your mouth and finally looks at him with a cold voice.

"Safe from what?"

"Safe from everyone who could hurt you to get to me. Hunters, other werewolves..."

You rolled your eyes. You didn't believe him.

"My boyfriend is waiting for me at his home, so I have to go."

You start to go upstairs. With his heart aching, and even a little bit desperate, Derek follows you.

"Wait, just let me talk with you. Please."

Your footsteps became faster and faster until you reach the door. You opened the door so angry that Cora, who was talking to Isaac in the entrance hall, jumped in fright.

You didn't reply to Derek. Hoping that you would listen to him and just forgive him, he starts to talk for a second time.

"I didn't want you to come to me again because it was dangerous. I really needed you to hate me. You would be safe that way."

Dominated by rage, you stop close to the front door and turn yourself to face him.

"Go fuck yourself, Derek!" You yell, with tears invading your eyes that were glowing yellow. However, you won't let them fall through your face this time. "Do you really think that I'll believe this bullshit? You will not make me a fool again!"

Your reaction made him just freeze, looking at you, not only surprised for your sudden rage and words. Derek was hitten for your rejection, just like he feared. Cora and Isaac were looking at the scene with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. Oh, man... The Pack was already doing tons of gossips about you and Derek, and that arguing would be the main one.

You walk out of the house, walking to your car, letting Derek behind. He did not follow you this time. He hasn't strengthed for it.

Suddenly, Derek noticed someone he hasn't seen before: Peter. His uncle was now stopped close to him, moving away from his mouth a bottle of Jack Daniels. He pushes the bottle to his nephew while letting out a long sigh. Derek just grabs the bottle and turns it in his mouth.

"I know, I know," Peter says, giving at his nephew a few pats on his shoulder. "Women's..."

TAG LIST: @teen-wolf-obsessed4life

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfic #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n #derek hale angst

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texanstarslove · 4 years

Note

10. “Did I wake you up?” With Nolan please!?😘🖤

This is sickening how sweet this is....and it’s just for you, K. 😘

Having alone time when you live with someone else is often hard to come by. Since deciding to move in together, you and Nolan had obviously been spending more time with each other. Most of the time it was great, your relationship with him was approaching its second anniversary and not just by chance. You both genuinely enjoyed being around each other, spending time together is one of your favorite things to do when you had coinciding days off. But with any relationship, spending a little bit of time apart had proven to be beneficial in keeping that healthy dynamic going. You both had no shame in needing alone time, separating yourself from each other for just a little while, a reset of the mind.

That’s why when Nolan went on road trips with his team, you were the most productive with work, chores, or even self-care. It’s not that Nolan hindered your ability to do any of those things, quite the opposite actually, but there was just something about being able to focus solely on the task at hand without any...distractions. Like when you decided that a soak in the tub was something you needed you were able to sit and relax, listening to one of your playlists made for such relaxation without the potential of being interrupted by Nolan and one of those distractions. Or when you decided to finally try the new Indian restaurant down the street, not having done so since Nolan wasn’t too keen on the idea. It was never that you were held back from doing the things you wanted to do, you were just able to appreciate the things that you enjoyed without worrying about anything else, and Nolan understood that. He enjoyed things like playing his video games and while you didn’t mind sitting and watching while you were both home, you just didn’t get the appeal and that was okay. Of course, you always missed each other but you both had a mutual understanding that sometimes doing things separately actually brought you closer together as a couple in the end.

But even though you enjoyed the short time apart, toward the end of those road trips you couldn’t help but start to miss him just a little bit more. In the beginning, you enjoyed being able to spread out in the king-sized bed you shared but as the days went on, you began to feel the chill in the sheets, missing the warmth of his body next to yours. It slowly became harder and harder to fall asleep without his arms wrapped around you. The goodnight phone calls carried on just a little bit longer, his voice bringing you peace and helping calm you so you could eventually drift off to sleep.

Tonight, however, was a different story. You had hung up the phone with Nolan a couple of hours prior yet you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. One more night, you kept telling yourself, One more night and he’ll be home. Your inner mantra had almost done the trick, your eyes beginning to feel heavy as you dozed off when the loud ringtone of your phone startled you awake. You rolled over in bed, grabbing your phone off the nightstand, seeing Nolan’s name flash across the screen. You’re brows furrowed, not understanding why he could be calling you at almost 2 am. You answered quickly, trying to conceal the groggy concern. “Nolan?”

“Shit, babe, did I wake you up?” He asked, the rich sound of his voice already bringing you a little bit of comfort.

“No.” You whispered as you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes and pushing your hair out of your face. “I mean, kind of but that’s okay. What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He grumbled, a heavy sigh following after, “I couldn’t sleep but I’ll let you go back to bed, baby. I’ll be alright.”

“No, it’s okay,” You spoke quickly, “Nols, it’s fine, really. What’s on your mind?”

He sighed once more before he replied, “I just wanted to hear your voice again, that’s all.”

A big grin broke out across your face. “Aw, Nolan,” You cooed jokingly, “Do you miss me, baby?”

“Not if you’re going to be a jerk and tease me about it.” He scoffed, the playful tone apparent in his voice.

You giggled softly at his reaction, practically hearing the smile you know was gracing his features. “For what it’s worth, I missed you too.”

“Yeah, you better.”

You loved the banter between the two of you, it was something that always came so naturally in your relationship. You both sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the company of each other even if it was just through the phone before Nolan spoke softly again.

“The moon looks pretty awesome tonight.”

Ah, yes. The moon. One of your favorite things to do with Nolan when he was away on the road was admire the moon. It had started toward the beginning of your relationship after you had spent a night out with friends while Nolan was down in Florida. There happened to be a full moon that night and when your not so sober self was amazed at its beauty, you drunkenly called Nolan to gush over it.

“God, Nols, you should see this thing!” You slurred, holding the phone up to your ear as you craned your neck up to look at the sky, “It’s fucking beautiful.”

Nolan could hardly contain his laughter at your antics. You sounded absolutely nuts but he loved your enthusiasm. He was in his hotel room winding down for the night and noticed he had a balcony. “Hang on, babe. I’ll look at it with you.” He pulled himself from his bed and stepped out onto the balcony, staring up at the full moon.

“Aw, we’re looking at the moon together!” You cried dramatically, “This is so romantic!”

From then on it became something the two of you did regularly. You felt like it brought the two of you together, made you feel like you were right next to each other even if he was thousands of miles away from you. It eased the feeling you both got when you began to miss each other even more than usual.

You smiled at the memories of the past and slowly made your way out of bed to find your perch at the bedroom window, the moon perfectly visible from your spot. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nolan sighed, “It definitely is.”

“I can’t wait for you to come home, Nolan.” You whispered, “I miss you laying in the bed with me.”

“I miss you too, baby girl.” Nolan mumbled softly, “So much.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, still staring at the moon as you two spoke for just a few minutes more. A sense of peace fell over the both of you and eventually, you began to feel the sleepiness take over.

“Get some sleep, babe.” Nolan finally told you, sensing how tired you were, “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You sighed, “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

A smile graced your lips as you hung up the phone. You knew sleep would come easier when you got back into bed, but you couldn’t help but stare up at the moon just a little longer, a warm, contented feeling flowing through you knowing that Nolan was doing the exact same thing.

#blurb request #nolan patrick #my writing

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house-of-cakes · 3 years

Photo

Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next Chapter 22: And I Oop! 🤭 Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1739

Warnings: Swearing, an over confident douchebag and Y/N and JK are major teases Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

It’s embarrassing how long this chapter took me to write 🤦‍♀️ If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊 Tagged list: @inspinkyring @betysotelo18 @kardia-apo-marmelada @casspirit0705 @preciouschimine @therealsugababe @lucedelsole97 @deolly @lexy9716 @thesweetest-peas @sannsia

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

A large group of excitable females crowded one end of the bar as the man behind it took two bottles and spun it around with dramatic flare before pouring a generous amount of alcohol into a shaker. Squeals of delight erupted from the crowd as he threw a handful of ice cubes into the air and successfully caught them all behind his back. He finished off the flashy routine by placing the shaker top back on the canister and entertain his audience one final time by dancing in body rolls while he shook up his concoction.

“Who’s thirsty?” He yelled out and in an instant the females grew feral with enthusiasm as they pushed and shoved each other, trying to be the first person to gain his attention.

Y/N observed the scene from the other side of the bar as she waited for her turn to be served. A girl with fire engine red hair managed to wrestle her competitors off and secured the position at the front of the bar. She patiently stood before him, hoping her pleading eyes was enough for him to convince him to invite her for a drink.

Y/N’s nose crinkled in distaste. While she didn’t know the red head by name (she went by the name Red), she had seen the girl around the Basement and knew enough to know she deserved better than him.

“I’m absolutely parched.” Her tone was slow and drawn out in attempts to sound sultry.

Y/N couldn’t contain the fake gagging noise she made. In her eyes the scenario was completely cringeworthy…maybe Red did deserve him.

‘I wouldn’t be caught dead chasing a guy like BeatBox Jae.’ She thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the sound she had made was loud enough to catch Jae’s attention.

An overwhelming amount of excitement welled in his chest when he realised he had the Kim Y/N in his sights. He turned his attention back to Red and gave her the most charming smile as he could muster as he made another big show of slowly pouring out two drinks.

“Sorry, bar’s closed.” He said with no hint of remorse then picked up the drinks and made his way over to Y/N, leaving the humiliation to sink in with poor Red.

“Here.” Jae said as he set the frosty martini glass in front of Y/N “I made you a drink, Beautiful.”

Y/N scoffed in his face and pushed the drink to the side, her blatant act of rejection did not even damper his mood.

“You’re an asshole you know, right? I can’t believe you did that to her!”

Jae nonchalantly shrugged off the comment as he took a sip from his drink. He didn’t care about the feelings or problems of others…if he wanted something, he knew that as the Maknae of The Basement Boys there wasn’t much that was unattainable by him. With a face that looked like it was carved by angels and an ego that was extensively fed his adoring fans of guys and girls…Jae was a lethal combination of charisma and arrogance.

It was exactly this attitude that repelled Y/N from him. “Don’t be like, Beautiful…let me take you out on a date and show you how much I like you.” “Oh really?” Y/N leant forward so that elbows were resting on the bar and cupped her face in her hands, making sure to looked up at him from under her long lashes with a cute pout. “Tell me three things you like.”

Y/N was never discreet about her dislike towards Jae which only made him want her more. The fact that she was now showing genuine interest, made Jae feel like he was finally getting a head in a race he was lagging in.

“That’s easy… You’re hot as hell.” He said with enthusiasm and raised his hand so he could count the reasons as he listed them off “…cute too and the most gorgeous thing in the world.” He grinned proudly to himself, feeling satisfied that he answered the question well.

“Is that all?” “You only asked for three…did you want me to say super sexy too?” His response was smug

Y/N had to force a smile to hide her grimace. Of course the only traits he favoured were those of her appearance. She knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, especially to someone like Jae but once in a while she had the unstoppable urge to remind herself that men were trash.

“Sorry I don’t date guys who fuck around while they have girlfriends.” Y/N pulled herself of the bar and broke the illusion of interest she had Jae under. Though her abrupt change of attuite was enough to give him whiplash he was able to recover quickly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Beautiful.” “That’s not how I see it.” The tension grew thick in the air as they stared each other down.

For regulars of The Basement, it was common knowledge that Jae was one to sleep around. However, with her sharp observation skills as The Shopkeeper, Y/N was able to piece together his hidden shame. From what she could piece together it seemed that only the members of The Basement Boys were aware of this convoluted secret and the matter was kept within the crew.

“Don’t be silly Beautiful.” Jae was the first to speak, breaking the tension by playfully ruffling her hair and returning back to his same jovial self “Besides if anyone has to worry about significant others it should be me…your boyfriend has been giving us death glares.” “What?” Y/N asked trying to figure out who in the world he was talking about. Nods his head in the direction behind her before revealing who he is talking about. “SeokJin’s big buff cousin over there.” she turned around spotted a Jungkook looking disgruntled standing a few people back in the line for the bar. Their eyes met briefly before he turned the other way, pretending he wasn’t watching Y/N. “That’s not my boyfriend.” she said rolling her eyes “He’s just angry because he’s a sore loser.” “Thank God.” Jae exclaims as he clutches his chest overdramatically “I thought I had competition for a second.” “You don’t have to worry about that.” Y/N reassures him with a smirk “You actually act to be in the race to have competition.” She cheekily blows him a kiss and leaves him, no longer interested in getting a drink.

Y/N was well aware of the type of person Jae was, so never in a million years would she fall victim to his charms. If anything, she found it enjoyable to shut him down.

‘That should take him down a notch.’ She thought to herself

Jungkook was still facing away from Y/N as she drew closer to passing him on her way back to the balcony, she had every intention to walk by and ignore his existence and yet she had the unstoppable desire to mess with him too. Still high off her interaction with Jae, her body moved on its own accord and before she knew it her body was crashing into his as she purposely tripped herself. As if on instinct Jungkook was quick to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask…there’s not need to trip me over” Jungkook’s eyes widen at her accusation which caused her to chuckle. His arms dropped from around her and he stepped back to create space between them “I don’t blame you though…I am pretty irresistible in my new shirt.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spat out in disgust “I don’t want anything to do with you, especially after I saw you help humiliate that red headed girl.” “Um…Sorry what?” Y/N’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he didn’t really believe she had anything to do with that? “Don’t act like you weren’t involved in that. I bet you couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once, that’s why you called that bartender over to you.” “Excuse you? I’m not sure what you saw there but you must really have your head up your ass if you think that I had anything to do with that.” “Oh pah-lease!” Jungkook’s arms were crossed defensively “You might have everyone fooled but I see you for who you are… you’re nothing more than a spoilt princess!”

‘A spoilt princess?’

That comment really struck a nerve with Y/N. She had been called many unfavourable things in her lifetime and she had never been offended because to some degree the things they said were true so it never bothered her…she felt there was no point in getting upset with the truth, she accepted every aspect of herself - whether it be good or bad. However to be called a princess and a spoilt princess at that really pushed all the wrong buttons within her.

Y/N refused to conform to her mother’s notions of the importance of beauty and the concept of using her physical attributes to have things handed to her. Y/N valued independence, intelligence and hard work…to have this stranger discredit her like that was deeply insulting to her.

“Look here you jerkfaced asshole.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she scowled up at the tall male towering above her. “Maybe if you were a better competitor, you’d be able to win once in a while and then you wouldn’t have to take your passive aggression out on me.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the grin that had taken over his face, even when Y/N was losing against him she had always managed to keep her emotions in check. This is the first time he had seen her flustered and openly frustrated…He enjoyed seeing her lose her composure.

“Whatever you say…” Jungkook closed the distance between them so that he could lean closer to her “…Princess”

Y/N stiffened when she heard his smooth husky voice whisper in her ear, stirring an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation and delight within her. Those feelings quickly turned to repulsion when her brain had finally caught up to her and realised who she had been talking to. She let out a sound of disgust and pushed him away from her.

“Go fuck yourself, Asshole!” she spat before turning to leave him.

Jungkook watched Y/N storm off as he buzzing with satisfaction of knowing he had be the one to get under her skin for once.

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starlocked01 · 3 years

Text

The Black Coffee Widower

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 3- Coffee Shop

WC: 4.2K

Summary: Virgil works the late-night shift at the local coffee shop. That's where he poisons and picks up his victims. He wasn't ready for the one who didn't fight back.

Content Warnings (there's a lot today): Serial Killer/Coffee Shop AU Unsympathetic Virgil, Poisoning, Kidnapping, Swearing, Gun Violence, Negative Self-talk, Self Hatred, Murder and Attempted Murder, Implied Sexual content. Sexual innuendo, referenced rape, referenced mutilation, Strangulation, Hospitals, Police

@dukexietyweek

The simple fact was that they glowed. Virgil had long ago given up on trying to explain it to himself; they just glowed when he saw them. It was like a premonition- a beautiful soft light that needed to be contained lest it sullied the rest of the world by leaving it dim and grungy in comparison.

Virgil was grungy. He knew very well he didn't and would never glow as they did. Maybe that was the reason why. Maybe if he ever had to tell someone why he did it, he'd tell them that.

He killed them because they glowed and no one should be able to glow.

However, he'd never cared all that much about the whys. The hows were so much more fun. How did he pick his victims? Easy. They glowed and walked in at the wrong time. How did a weak, little, pathetic loser subdue the perfect glowing people? Bitter coffee was a perfect cover for bitter poisons. How did he end their lives? Any way he pleased.

How did he avoid detection? A healthy dose of anxiety kept him careful. Too many of the brightest glowing people escaped because they'd be missed. He never went by his legal name anywhere. He stayed patient and alert. He was the nobody that no one could ever remember. Playing barista sucked but it was the perfect cover. No one ever suspected the sulky, little, dimwitted worker stuck on the insomniacs shift at the quiet little 24-hour cafe. And no one ever really noticed if the store's hours were a bit unpredictable between 2 am and 4 am. That was the best time for hunting; it worked and Virgil wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

---

Virgil knelt, his latest catch already unconscious and tied up behind the counter when the doorbell chimed. Cursing at himself for forgetting to lock the door, Virgil grabbed a refill pack of napkins and stood cautiously. He gasped, finding the man who had entered shone twice as brightly as the woman he already had tied up. Certain that Miss Double-Soy-Latte-with-Hazelnut-Syrup-and-Whipped-Cream-you-got-that-Sugar? wasn't about to wake up and cause a scene, Virgil watched the man as he studied the menu.

The first thing he would do is take the man’s studded wrist gauntlet and fishnet fingerless gloves. Those things couldn't belong to someone who glows. Virgil squinted and could just make out a loosely looped studded belt to match, hanging off the man’s hip and exposing his lack of undergarments. Virgil hungrily followed the curve of that hip with his eyes up to the man's stomach peeking out underneath the ragged edge of a homemade cropped band t-shirt. He wanted to punch that stomach, to feel what it was like when the man tensed and when he stayed soft in compliance.

Next, he stared at shapely arms crossed in front of the man's chest. Those arms looked strong as a vice and he wondered how much effort it would take to break those delicate bones to render the muscles useless. Would he break first?

The man wore a sleeveless leather vest, displaying a museum's worth of inkwork, tentacles and snakes, and other writhing forms accented periodically with teeth and eyes and fangs and beaks. A rendition of the Harry Potter Death Eater mark set into the shoulder and tattooed thorns circled his neck. Virgil found himself getting hot under the collar and decided two in one night would be a fun challenge.

It was hard to see the man’s face until he flashed Virgil a brilliantly blinding smile as if on cue. The smile was all the sign Virgil needed to know this man would die tonight. He was practically begging Virgil to save him from the light radiating from his face. His gorgeous, handsome, wild-eyed face.

Virgil wanted so badly to touch the messy, overdue 5 o'clock shadow, to feel the scars left by razor nicks and frequent skin irritation. He wanted to wipe away the heavy eyeliner and mascara, run dirty fingers through greasy, dyed hair. He wanted those eyes to see him for who he is so he could spare them the pain of hoping there had been another ending once he'd entered the shop.

If the stranger was uncomfortable with his intense gaze, he certainly didn't show it as he approached the counter. Virgil squirmed as a cacophony of overlapping mismatched beats of a second hand overwhelmed his entire sense of hearing. Looking down, he quickly spotted a wristwatch on the unconscious woman's wrist and stepped on it to deaden the maddening sound. Soon all he could hear was the new customer's watch ticking erratically as though it needed to be wound up.

"Heya, kitten! Like what you see, baby?" the man smirked at Virgil as he leaned down on the counter and made sultry suggestive eyes at him.

"Excuse me?" Virgil hissed, recoiling from the familiarity.

"Woah, kitty's got claws huh?" the man giggled. Virgil stiffened, well aware how close the man could come to looking down and spotting the woman. And if he attempted to turn him in it wouldn't end pretty. He didn't want to have to clean up the shop after a struggle before having his fun.

"What are you ordering?" Virgil asked tersely.

"Me-ow. Guess you don't swing my way- darn. I bet you've got a totally bodacious booty too," the man batted his eyelashes at Virgil.

"That isn't on the menu. Order or get lost, yeah?" Virgil growled, trying to seem as disinterested in the enticing man as he could manage.

"Right. Seven shots of espresso, a shot of creamer, and a shot of the pineapple ginger concentrate, s'il vous plait," the man listed off as though he'd ordered the same thing a hundred times.

Virgil froze, unsure how to ring up the disgusting concoction, "what the hell? What kind of drink is that?"

"It's like me. One of a kind," the man beamed, brushing bleached silver hair out of his eyes, "can you handle that, kitty kat?"

"Stop with the pet names," Virgil rolled his eyes and finished inputting the drink, "um.. that will be… $6.69."

"Eyo! Sixty niiiiiiine," the man giggled emphatically while pulling out his money to pay.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "childish. Name for the order?"

"Uh, your phone number."

"What?"

"Damn you don't take hints!" the man placed one hand on his chest and bowed with a flourish, "my name is Remus, and I think you're very cute, kitty kat."

"You are maddening! Just call me Virgil!" he snapped, getting a cup ready to prepare the last drink Remus would ever have, "it's gonna take a minute to pull all those shots. Gosh… that much caffeine could kill you…" Virgil smirked at his own joke.

Remus took the smirk for a friendly smile and grinned, "I got all night for you, Virgil."

"That's cute. I'll let you know when it's ready," Virgil smiled, making direct eye contact as he added his favorite blend of sedatives to Remus’s cup.

It only took 30 seconds before Remus hit the floor with a confused grunt. Virgil was almost impressed the man had downed half the drink in one gulp. Moving quickly, Virgil locked the shop and dragged Remus back behind the counter, binding and gagging the flirtatious idiot. Tonight was going to be so special.

---

It hadn’t been easy, moving both bodies- cursing his weak, pathetic self the entire time. He made sure to dose both of them again after stashing them in the trunk so he could go back and finish out his shift.

He smiled pleasantly at the officers who stopped by just before the morning shift, careful to not give them any reason to be suspicious as he packed up day-old donuts and prepared two drinks nearly as caffeinated as Remus’s drink had been but significantly less poisoned. But still a little poisoned because fuck the police.

It took every muscle in Virgil’s body to not run gleefully to the car when the morning shift came to relieve him from work. He hid his excitement behind his usual persona of snarky disinterest and exhaustion until he was safely in the car and blasting his favorite CD on the drive home.

Pulling directly into the garage, Virgil shut down the car and giggled as the door shut slowly on his prisoners' last hope for rescue. Working at a leisurely pace, Virgil dragged first Remus then the woman down into his basement, both drowsy and barely able to make a complaint. It only seemed fair they die in the order they'd been caught so Virgil laid Remus out on the couch while he tied the woman down to his workbench.

The woman began to moan pathetically just as Virgil was tying down the last limb. It was not a moment too soon. He chuckled to himself and smacked her face a few times to help her wake up.

"Look alive, sunshine! You won't be much longer, I'm afraid," Virgil quipped as she blinked awake and started to panic at the restraints holding her down.

God, he hated when they screamed almost as much as he hated the watches. Virgil waited as long as he could stand the high-pitched whining pleas for freedom and help before loudly shushing until she quieted.

"Shh! Stop yelling or I will restrict your breathing," Virgil hissed, laying a prohibitive finger to her lips, "I promise you'll live longer if you stay quiet."

"You'll let me go?"

"No. I'll just take my time," Virgil smirked as the color drained from her face and her lip began to quiver, "ohh. Ohh, don't be so dramatic, sweetheart. It's time to grow up and realize death is inevitable."

Virgil laughed as she started screaming again, only turning away when Remus stirred from his sleep.

"Oh, dear. You've woken up my other guest. Now you know, he's special. You're going to have the life choked out of you, slowly but surely, but he gets to lose a lot more than his life. Count yourself lucky, sweetheart." Virgil turned to examine the man on the couch again as he blearily blinked up at him.

"You coulda'sked, kitkat," Remus mumbled nearly incomprehensibly. Virgil tilted his head in confusion as he watched Remus. The man slowly regained awareness, and even as Virgil stood above him with a hard frown, he smiled back up at his captor.

"What the hell are you getting on about?" Virgil asked with a growl, hoping to startle that unsettling grin off Remus’ face.

Remus laughed, "you coulda just asked if you wanted to do a scene, cutie! Although I love the attention to realism. Like you actually drugged me to bring me home!"

Virgil stared, completely in shock at what he was hearing, "wait.. you think…"

"That you were too shy to ask me out so you drugged me and dragged me back home? Yes," Remus nodded enthusiastically, "if you have some whips and an electric hand mixer we can have some real fun, you sexy little kitten!" Remus bumped his eyebrows suggestively, leaving Virgil absolutely stunned.

"What is going on here?!?" the woman on the table cried out.

"Shut the hell up!" Virgil barked back at her, too confused to do much more than stare at Remus. Why did he like this? Why did Virgil like that Remus liked this? He felt hot and confused but also certain about one thing he absolutely wanted.

Experimentally he reached down and laid his hand on Remus’ exposed stomach. Watching Remus for his reaction, Virgil slowly slid his hand along the skin and up to Remus’s chest. Remus shut his eyes with a smile and shivered at the touch, "oh yeah, baby. I can purr for you, kitty. Anything you want."

Virgil inhaled sharply, pulling back his hand and looking back at the other prisoner as she lay whimpering on the table.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do with a captive audience?

---

Virgil didn't know what he'd been thinking, letting Remus go after all was said and done. Remus had been fun and so down for all of his sickest fantasies, supplying quite a few of his own. He'd stolen Remus’ watch and put it on the woman's body before shooting both timepieces on her wrist. The ticking had probably driven him to let Remus go. That had to explain it

He dumped the woman as far as he possibly could and hoped beyond reason that Remus wouldn't recognize her in the news and realized what he'd done. For a week he lived in fear of the cops showing up at work or worse his house, armed with search warrants and one hell of a witness. For a week, nothing happened.

It turned out he'd worried for nothing. Just when Virgil began to itch again to get rid of another glowing being, despite the police pressure pushing him to lay low, Remus came back in during his shift.

"Hello, my little purrrfect kitten!" Remus beamed as he walked into the shop.

Virgil froze and slowly turned back to face him, "you- you came back?"

"Mhm. Never got your number but I wanted to see you again, Virgie. Figured we could have some more fun this time," Remus smirked as he leaned casually against the counter, "one usual with the special sauce please!"

"Special sauce?" Virgil asked, still amazed Remus had even come back to the cafe.

"You know," Remus leaned in close and whispered, "the stuff that knocks me out so you can take me home and we can get it on freakier than my last BDSM club"

"Wow, you- you liked it that much?" Virgil let out a low whistle. He studied Remus again, stricken by the fact he didn't glow so much this time. Even though Virgil wanted to take care of another glowing bastard, he was so much more interested in this willing abductee.

"Yeah, I did! That shit's hot as fuck!" Remus beamed. Virgil checked the time on his terminal display and realized it was nearly the time his least favorite police patrons would be making their morning run.

"Look, uh… why don't we save the tranqs for my place?" Virgil smirked as he started to prepare Remus’ strange order, "I'm amazed this drink doesn't put you in a coma already."

Remus giggled, "sometimes it takes a little something extra to get the heart pumping, yeah?"

"Hm. Well, I get off in two hours-"

"I'll be sitting right here in the corner then. I wanna get to know you, Virgie."

"A horrible mistake for you, really," Virgil laughed, heart fluttering far too much.

"Plus I think I left my watch at your place…"

"I haven't seen it this week. We can look though," Virgil lied smoothly, knowing very well the police had the timepiece in evidence.

Remus kept flirting as Virgil cleaned the store and served the early morning crowd, true to his word about waiting to leave with Virgil. They walked out to his car and Remus held out his arm expectantly when they sat down.

"What?" Virgil asked suspiciously.

"You're off the clock, let's get this party started. Surely you have the special stuff in here- you injected me last time."

Virgil flushed, "um.. really? You don't want to wait to know where we're going first?"

"How am I supposed to pretend I'm getting kidnapped if you don't knock me out? At least tie my hands?" Remus bat his eyes at Virgil who rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab a scarf out of the glove box.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah but you like it, kitten."

---

Logan stared at the evidence bored, absolutely baffled. In 5 months there had been 18 victims, a consistent signature, and every promise that someone would turn up with a connection to this perp. Or someone should know where these folks had been headed when they fell into the unsub's trap.

And then after Lydia with the two watches- nothing. No bodies were found for weeks. No whisperings of the media-named Black Widower who aggressively mutilated his male victims almost beyond recognition after raping them and humiliated the women after strangling them with silk scarves.

"I just don’t understand. Guys like this don’t go dormant! It's against every drive they have. What are we missing, Patton?"

Patton looked up from his third cup of coffee, "I don't know, Lo. What about the two-unsub theory? Maybe they met up and are keeping each other occupied?"

Logan rolled his eyes, "oh sure. Two serial killers, one who's gay and one who hates women meet and start playing house. Real cute."

"It could happen…" Patton replied defensively, already reaching for a second donut as his partner glared disapprovingly.

"No. I think it's the same unsub. The watches are always shot while the victim wears them. It's consistent. It's a single, unique signature that the media still hasn't published. If it's two different killers, they knew about each other and were purposefully copying each other long before they went dormant."

"Well, I'm not going to complain that we aren't finding more victims. I'd rather people not be mysteriously killed and maimed by the Black Widower...s," Patton lifted his chin defiantly. He stood and walked over to the evidence board, studying the geographic profile again, the map showing a confusing cluster of dumpsites, victim's homes, and last sightings, and puzzled over the strangeness of the case.

"If this case goes cold, we may never find the unsub. He lives his life, free to decide to start again while all of his victims lay rotting in the ground. Their families don't deserve to live with that fear," Logan sighed heavily in near defeat, "of course I don’t want more victims. I want this man caught. Why did he suddenly stop?"

---

For a month, Remus had come in once or twice a week, asking Virgil for the secret sauce and flirting with him until the end of his shift. The randomness of his timing and anticipation of his visits made it impossible for Virgil to hunt. He didn't quite mind because seeing Remus was always better than the thrill of the kill.

Virgil finally relented and watched with quiet admiration as Remus celebrated over getting his number, and their relationship only moved faster after that. Pretty soon Remus was able to convince him to go on an actual date after work, grabbing breakfast at a nearby diner and hitting up his apartment afterward. Virgil had rarely spent so long away from his own home, but being out with Remus made him feel almost normal.

Media slowly stopped covering the Black Widower and Virgil smiled to himself just imagining how frustrated the police must be that they couldn't find him.

Virgil was happy, laying next to his boyfriend who loved him despite almost every eccentricity. He almost believed nothing could go wrong with Remus there.

"Uh, kit kat? I have a bit of a confession to make," Virgil winced, cursing himself for being so naive to believe that foolish sentiment.

"What’s up, dukey?" Virgil rolled to his side to face his boyfriend, "you can tell me anything."

"I don't- promise you won't get mad or like.. react badly?" Remus asked quietly, alarming Virgil even more.

He gently laid a hand on Remus’ neck and rubbed that roughened cheek with his thumb, "what's going on, Rem? You're scaring me."

Remus visibly gulped and whispered, "I know what happened to my watch. Virgil, I've always known.."

Virgil pulled back slowly. So this is what it actually felt like to be caught. His heart hammered in his throat, making a verbal reply impossible. He strained to not start crushing Remus’ throat and his own heart in his panic. This was love and this was a threat and god the way Remus looked at him right now only complicated everything else so much more.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't wriggling away from Virgil’s touch. Remus stared death in the eye unflinchingly.

He'd always figured his boyfriend must be brave or stupid, but Virgil hadn't counted on both.

"I know… what you are… and I still fell in love with you, Virgil. If you're gonna… could you at least drug me first and let me kiss you with my last breath?"

Very quickly several pieces fell into place as Virgil stared at the man who loved him despite every flaw and couldn't even beg for his own safety or life.

Remus knew what happened the night they met.

Remus had made the connections to the other murders and the subsequent drought of victims.

Remus could have turned him in- directly to the officers at the shop a half dozen times and a hundred other times when they weren’t spending time together.

Remus loved him.

Remus loved him and was scared of this confrontation.

Remus was not scared of dying.

Killing his boyfriend would be the exact link the cops would need to capture him.

Not killing his boyfriend for knowing his secret would be the largest risk imaginable.

Virgil couldn’t live without Remus

His hand was slowly choking Remus out despite his reluctance to take action.

Virgil gasped and pushed Remus away roughly, darting out of the bed and down the hall. He didn't stop until he heard Remus calling out for him.

Shit.

"Virgil!" his voice came out hoarse and painfully weak sounding. Virgil knew he should run.

But Remus was calling for him. And this was his fault.

"Virgil?" it was a question, asked in a voice that couldn't get enough air to support itself. He could leave and Remus would probably die a very painful death, all alone, with his fingers and palm emblazoned in the bruising that would provide the cause of death.

Remus loved him. He couldn't let this be the end.

Virgil flew back into the bedroom, grabbed the landline, and made the call.

"Remus, I am so sorry. Just keep breathing, baby. I am so so sorry!" Virgil apologized profusely, waiting for the emergency operator to pick up.

---

Hospital staff had to pry Virgil from Remus’ side as they moved him quickly into the O.R. Virgil paced and wondered how exactly to explain Remus’s injuries without getting arrested to distract himself from the fear that Remus would die in surgery.

He should have never let himself get so close to someone so smart and funny and perfect and… glowing. Virgil sat and waited for the doctor's verdict, pulling his hood over his eyes to block out the throngs of injured, sick, frantically glowing people around him.

Ages passed until Virgil heard his name and looked up suddenly for the source. A doctor and a police officer stood before him and all of the adrenaline in his body screamed that he needed to run.

"Uh.. how is he, doc?" Virgil asked, fighting himself to not scream or make a scene.

"Remus Crowne is currently in recovery and you may visit him. Due to the nature of his injuries, we have contacted the police to speak with him first," the doctor intoned, voice dripping with suspicion.

The officer took the pause to speak up, "would you like to make a statement, Mr. Kier?"

"I just want to see him," Virgil replied in a raspy voice, shaking his head in denial as he stood.

"Very well. This way, sir," the doctor led Virgil and the officer back towards the recovery rooms. When they arrived, Virgil nearly choked seeing Remus talking with the same two officers who came into his shop each morning. The shorter one knelt beside the bed to hold Remus’ hand. He spoke softly and asked all the questions while his partner stood tall and took notes, looking incredulously at the injured man. Virgil instinctively wanted to barge in and protect Remus from these pigs but the third held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Before long the two officers left the room, eyeing Virgil disdainfully. He waited for the words that would send his world crashing around him even more than it already had.

"You- you can go in now, hon," Virgil's head tilted in confusion as the third officer let him go, "just be more careful in the future."

"I- what? No charges?" Virgil barely whispered, glancing towards the bed where Remus laid watching the tv.

"Believe me, if it had been me, I don’t care how consensual- I would have pressed charges for sending me to the E.R. have a good day, sir. Come along, Patton." The stricter-looking cop turned, gesturing to the kinder one and all three left quickly. Virgil beamed and ran to Remus’ side.

"You're welcome, kitten," Remus coughed and reached for Virgil’s hand.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't want to, Rem-"

"Shhhh. I told them it was a sex fantasy gone a bit too far. If I'd known you liked strangling dudes too-"

"Now you shush!" Virgil leaned in close, "you get better fast now, okay?"

"I always wanted to date a serial killer.. promise you won't leave me over this?" Remus grinned weakly up at Virgil, "I could help you, ya know."

"Shhhh this is just the pain meds talking. You don’t know a serial killer," Virgil laughed as tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. He gave Remus a dramatic stage wink and held his hand securely.

"Aww, you're right. I'm just stuck with a pretty boy who doesn't know his own strength," Remus grinned and watched Virgil rather than the tv until a nurse came to shoo his boyfriend away for the night.

Remus couldn't wait for their first hunt together.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #serial killer au #coffee shop au #please please please mind the content warning #please remember that reblogs help more than likes ^ ^#shit i'm like 10 minutes late nooooo

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danceworshipper · 3 years

Text

Giulio Moretti - HPMA Character Profile

template by me // images created using the zepeto app

NOTE: I am a cisgender female. As such, I have been hesitant to make a trans oc and will not be going into much detail about Giulio's experiences specifically related to his gender. If anything in here feels iffy to anyone not cisgender, please let me know and I'll correct it

Personal

Full Name: Giulio Antonio Moretti

Gender: Male (trans)

Sexuality: Demisexual, polyamorous

Birthday: June 1st

Age: 11

Birthstone: Alexandrite

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Blood Status: Full Veela

- I'm mostly using these headcanons written by @carmilla-the-bird, though over time I might end up changing a couple details

- I'm not certain if full Veelas would even use wands/go to magic school but these ones do because I say so

- What I'm specifically adding is that since HPMA takes place later than the full HP series, there has been a new method developed to allow full veelas to better coexist with wizards. This comes in the form of a clear gemstone that can be inserted into any piece of jewelry, usually necklaces. While the stone is worn, the charm [or allure, as I call it] that all veelas have while glamored is dampened by up to 80%. Another effect is that when angered, the veela won't be able to lash out with their fire magic, unless they've trained their magic well enough that's it's less of an instinct and more of a conscious choice. Minors are legally required to wear it at all times, except in their own home with only their family around. Once an adult the veela can choose whether they want to wear it or not. The stone has a similar trace to underaged magic, so when a Veela who's a minor takes it off, the Ministry is alerted and their location will be tracked

3 Positive Traits:

- Empathetic

- Resourceful

- Playful

3 Negative Traits:

- Irritable

- Addictive

- Pessimistic

Usual First Impression: When meeting Giulio, most people see him as a spoiled and stuck up little boy. This isn't true. He's just very wary of strangers, so he doesn't tend to leave a good first impression. Once he's more comfortable around someone, his positive traits outshine the more negative ones

Location

Birthplace: A Veela-specific clinic in southern Italy. His mother travelled there for all of her children's births, and the midwife there is the woman who delivered her

Current Home: His family home in England, a medium sized house under a strict Fidelius charm, which his aunt is the Secret Keeper for. His bedroom is on the second floor, looking out over the fish pond in the backyard

Future Home(s): Fresh out of Hogwarts he'll share an apartment with Lori with heavily warded Floo access. Later homes TBD once his love interests are planned out

Favorite Place: The little house the family rents for a month every summer in southern Italy. The town is full of good culture, and better yet, good food. It feels peaceful, even when there's a loud festival going on

Disliked Place: The woods a mile down the road from his home. The woods are the last place Giulio saw his grandmother before she went missing, and now they feel like they're haunted. He refuses to go on walks there anymore

Appearance

Face Shape: Round, slightly pointy chin

Eye Color: Deep teal

Hair Color: Whitish blond

Hair Style: Self cut (horrifies his mother), slightly uneven, medium length. Not brushed every day, fluffy

Skin Tone: Pale

Freckles/Spots: A few beauty marks on his face, two near his right eye and one on the left side of his chin

Scars: None yet

Piercings/Tattoos: None

Height: 5'7" [fully grown]

Weight: ~ 135 lbs [fully grown]

Physique: Thin. Luckily for him, Giulio's family has always had rather "boyish" bodies - wide shoulders, not very curvy - but he's still got too much woman in him to be fully happy with his form

Clothing Style: Baggy tops, loose pants, nothing fancy. Giulio tries to attract as little attention as possible, because while he's glamored people stare at him a lot anyway, even with the dampener. He does like colored pants, but his tops are usually grey and black. His dampening necklace is the most eye catching thing he wears (as it was a gift from his missing grandmother) and he wishes he could take it off, but he legally can't

Carried Items:

- The last picture of him, his sisters, and his grandmother ever taken

- A lighter. He likes having the fire near him since he can't access his own fire magic

- His hair scissors, for whenever he feels like it needs to be trimmed

- A container of Silly Putty he got from a Muggle convenience store

- His water bottle

Magic

Wand: 10" Veela hair wand in Fir wood. A very pale colored wand that's a bit rough around the edges. The hair is from his younger sister Martina, who yanked the strand right out and handed it to the wandmaker after no wands appeared to choose a very defeated looking Giulio. The wand was made while Giulio watched, and he checked it many times throughout the process to make sure it felt like it would have him, which it did.

Animagus: As a veela, Giulio can transform into pretty much any bird shape. He has no need to go through the animagus process

Boggart Form: Him, fully matured, very womanly, and in a wedding gown just like the ones his older sister Alessia fawns over

Riddikulus Form: Him in a ridiculously exaggerated Bloody Baron costume

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Giulio would smell new pillows, the faint burning metal scent that clings to him, and the dry shampoo he uses

Amortentia (to them): He doesn't smell any sort of romantic interest yet. What he smells now are safe, comforting smells, like the cigars his mother and aunt smoke, the perfume all his sisters use, and the smell of his favorite restaurant in southern Italy

Patronus: Bird of Paradise

Happiest Memory: Receiving his wand once it was completed, and finally feeling the connection and power he'd heard so much about but thought he'd never have

Mirror of Erised: Some might consider it sad, but all he sees is him, happy, the way he wishes he was - including not looking at all like a Veela. Someday this will change

Family Spells: It's not really a spell, but the Morettis have a particular bird call that, when paired with the right charm, will alert every living family member to the caller's location, should one desperately need help. It's only to be used in emergencies. Giulio isn't sure he wants to know why his grandmother never used it

Inherent Magic: Veela stuff - storm sense, fire, bird transformations, allure, slight levitation abilities

Family

Grandmother: Francesca is not an ideal parental figure. She grew up in a time when full Veelas were treated with nearly the same suspicion and prejudice as werewolves, so she's very anti-human. However, she was still one of Giulio's best defenders and most treasured family members. She places a huge importance on family and is the one who came up with the idea of the special danger call. Francesca went missing when Giulio was seven, and there have been no clues as to what happened.

Mother: Valentina is a kind, gentle woman who cares for her family before anyone else. She and her sister were taught all their lives to be nothing more than a pretty face, and while Bianca rejected this, Valentina embraced it. Even now, with her own mother nowhere to be found, she has trouble remembering to be herself. She wears her necklace at all times, terrified to be without it

Father: Giulio never knew him. He's not sure he even has one

Aunt: Bianca is, in many ways, the exact opposite of her sister. Bianca embraces all of her less than proper instincts, and even walks around in public completely unglamored, acting as a good deterrent to anyone who might want to come say hi, innocent intentions or not. Gets angry very easily, and has caused public property damage more often than Valentina would appreciate

Sisters: Two older sisters, one younger. All Slytherins while in school

- Alessia, six years older, prefect. A headstrong young woman who takes advantage of her allure to get what she wants, and is skilled enough to fight off anyone who gets too "friendly". She likes to have a collection of boy toys she never lets get too close, but secretly only has eyes for the Hufflepuff prefect, Lina.

- Emilia, four years older, Quidditch captain. Hates her allure with a passion and refuses to even think about romance until she's out of school. Could kick anyone's ass, and will do so if she feels the need to. Very protective of Giulio, has gotten into at least eight shouting matches with those who misgender him

- Martina, one year younger. The baby of the family. A bit of a spoiled brat, and too young to fully understand exactly why her older siblings are all so wary of strangers, or letting her out of their sight. She dreams of being the Minister of Magic, and of being able to take her "stupid, ugly, and stupid" necklace off for good

Pets: The two family screech owls which trade off being at school/home, and an Abraxan Giulio found on Hogwarts grounds that likes him a lot

Family Values: The Morettis hold nothing higher than each other. The family's main priority is sticking together, and always doing whatever they can to help each other achieve whatever they wish. The family is also, as a whole, rather reclusive

Opinion of Family: Giulio loves his family. For all their faults, they hold true to their values and he couldn't imagine one of them ever betraying another. Even if they won't ever truly understand him, they've all tried and they do what they can, and it means more than he can say

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Introverted

Best Friend: Oleander Loris. Her anger issues, her weird pink eyes, and her tendency to drag him along to social outings are all things that Giulio comes to appreciate over time. He originally became curious about her on the train ride to school, when she stumbled looking at his older sisters but didn't notice him at all, and they spoke for the first time in Flying class. Lori is definitely a force to be reckoned with, and the fact that she's not affected by his allure in the slightest makes him feel really happy

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend He Didn't Expect: Cassandra. They aren't the best of friends, and maybe they can't be considered friends at all, but she doesn't hold the contempt she seems to hold for most others for him

Who He Wishes Was His Friend: Kestra Fernera. She's got fire powers, and she doesn't have to be chained down by the Ministry. He thinks she's super cool, and is very jealous of her and how popular she is, but he's far too nervous to try and talk to her

List of Casual Friends:

- Brian Haywood-Reese @catohphm

- others TBD, but likely the main cast of the game. Mc friends welcome, if any are interested!

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD

His Type: Pretty much anyone who's able to look past the allure that Giulio hates so much and also isn't afraid of him in his natural form, though most people haven't even seen it

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Not on the team, but plays casually

Clubs: TBD

Organizations: None

Favorite Class: Flying. Duh

Least Favorite Class: Potions. It gives him a headache surrounded by all the fumes

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood:

- Giulio realizes young that he hates the idea of being a girl, and insists that his mother change his name. His family thought it was a phase, but once they realized it wasn't, they became more serious and started to see what they could do to help him

- He's a sheltered child, learning early the importance of staying close to a trusted adult. He sees the horrors of what can happen to a Veela caught unaware at a young age when he almost loses his mother to someone who wanted to sell her, and never looks at strangers the same way again

- At five years old Giulio is given his dampener necklace. He refuses to wear it until his grandmother forcibly puts it on him. He decides it's not that bad, though it feels like it's choking him and he doesn't like the muted feeling in his hands that comes from the loss of his instinctual magic

- At seven years old, Giulio is on a walk with his grandmother in the woods when he hears a loud screech. She sends him back toward the house, saying she'll be right behind him. Hours pass, and she never follows. There's no evidence as to what that screech was, or what happened to his grandmother

- At eleven years old, Giulio spends a week traveling to different wandmakers around Europe trying to find a wand so he can go to school in the fall. For some reason, his magic is picky and not a single wand even comes close to working for him. When he's given up all hope, his little sister Martina asks if the wandmaker takes custom orders, and rips out her own hair to be used for Giulio's wand. It's the first time Giulio cries happy tears, hovering his hand over the uncompleted wand and feeling it call to him already

School Years: TBD once I'm able to play the game

Post Graduation: Giulio moves into an apartment with Lori soon after graduating. While she immediately starts work, Giulio takes time to find some higher education, and work on training his Veela magic now that he can take his necklace off whenever he wants

Career(s): TBD

Marriage and Children: TBD

Death: Giulio will be murdered by [redacted] in order to save [redacted]'s life, but he'll be very old (around 200) and will have outlived his lovers, so he doesn't see it as too much of a shame. He'll be buried in the family garden and have some lovely flower bushes planted over him

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- The Veela magic in Giulio recognizes him as a boy as soon as he does. When his allure kicks in, anyone attracted to men finds themself affected, while those strictly into women do not, even though male Veelas are practically unheard of

- His aunt Bianca paid a personal visit to Hogwarts before he was enrolled, ready to throw flames if he was going to be put into the female dorms. Luckily, she didn't need to worry, as once the situation was explained it was settled with a simple change in his paperwork

- Giulio hates being cooped up indoors for too long. Even in the coldest days of winter, he'll spend as much time as possible outside

- Starting in third year, Lori will figure out how to get the necklace off of him without alerting anyone [putting it on herself within a few seconds], and Giulio will occasionally spend a few hours free and in his natural form in the Forbidden Forest. Unbeknownst to him, wearing the necklace saps at Lori's magical core, and it takes her a day or so to regain her strength if she wears it for more than thirty minutes

- Giulio will likely have three partners in the future. He could never even imagine having one, so if his younger self was told he would have three he would probably have a difficult time believing it

- Cutting his hair so frequently doesn't affect his magic like his mother feared it would, though he does feel nauseous when he does it

- The dark teal eyes are something only he and his sisters have, which is how he knows they all have the same "father" or whatever they had. His mother, aunt, and grandmother all have the traditional black eyes. Not even Alessia ever saw any type of man around when her younger siblings were born, so there are no clues as to how the four of them exist

- As much as he hates the dampener, it does him a lot of good when he's younger. He gets angry easily and often feels very defensive, so without it he could have gotten into a lot of trouble

- Though he doesn't like his allure, Giulio will sometimes take advantage of it like Alessia does if he wants to get out of something. He won't fight it, he'll play nice, and let whoever he needs to back off get a little dazed

- He wanted to hide the fact that he was a Veela when he first came to Hogwarts, but with two older sisters and his allure he couldn't

#harry potter magic awakened #magic awakened #hpma #hpma oc #giulio moretti #veela oc #slytherin oc #I'm probably going to play as him tbh since it would feel wrong to play a character in any other house

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?

Ah, referring back to this fic?

Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.

Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...

----

The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--

The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.

“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.

There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.

“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.

“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab.

“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”

Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?

“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood

“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.

“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.

“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.”

Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.

“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.

“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.”

Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”

“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”

“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.

“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.

Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap.

“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”

So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.

“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.

“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”

“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”

“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”

“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”

Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?

“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”

“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’”

“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.”

“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”

“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!”

“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.

“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”

“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.”

Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”

Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”

“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands.

“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab.

He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.

She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like...

He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.

“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.

“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”

“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.

“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.

“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.

“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”

“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.

“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.

She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”

Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.

“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.

Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.”

Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then.

“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.

“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.

#gency

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girlboss-molina · 4 years

Text

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 3: A Demonstrative Lesson in Simping

AO3 Link

Words: 12.8k

-----

Alex POV

...

It had been a week, and Alex hadn’t seen Willie since that fateful night when he’d earned the nickname “your royal pancakeness.” It was probably better that way, to be honest. The way Willie moved, everything about him, the energy that surrounded him, it made Alex feel weird and fluttery. If his anxious reading through the random romance novels on the bookshelf in his room, plus his constant googling of “do I have a crush” quizzes (on incognito tabs, obviously; treason wasn’t very high on his bucket list) said anything about his current situation, though, he was royally screwed.

No pun intended.

It didn’t help, either, that every time he thought about the baker’s smile, his long hair, the way his dark eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed, a shiver ran down Alex’s spine. It was so confusing. How the hell could he have a crush on someone he barely knew?

He dragged a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. Laying on the floor and questioning his existence had become a daily occurrence, oftentimes - like today - with Luke by his side.

“Emotions are the bane of my existence,” he said plaintively, not bothering to look away from the high ceilings, letting the flecks of dust in the air blend in with the tiny spots in his vision after not blinking for so long. “Like,” he continued, “how is it logical that a couple little zaps to the brain can make your stomach drop, or make your palms sweat, or even a week after something happened, still make you feel cold and warm at the same time?”

He wasn’t sure if the question was meant to be rhetorical, but he was still grateful for Luke’s reply, however unhelpful it may turn out to be.

“Bro, I don’t know,” he agreed. “Like, one minute you’re fine, and the next you’re about to accidentally commit treason.” Alex let out a dry laugh.

“Tell me about it.” A few moments passed, and he blinked, finally letting new moisture clear his vision. “Also, called it.”

“Wh-” Luke started, clearing his throat. “What do you mean, ‘called it?’”

“You like Julie?” Alex assumed, ignoring the swelling bubble of treasonous worry in his stomach. “I might’ve overthought every possible aspect of this, and your comment about accidental treason confirmed what I already thought.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke drag a hand down his face, heard him groan.

“I barely know her,” he started, “but I’m already so… I don’t even know the word. Intrigued? Infatuated? In-something.” Alex nodded, letting his head smack back down on the carpet. “I’m sorry,” he added.

“Why?”

“I can only imagine how much this must be on your anxiety, and this doesn’t help.”

“It doesn’t, but it’s not the first bit of accidental treason.” His eyes finally flicked away from their spot on the ceiling as Luke bolted upright.

“No way,” he said. “Who?” Alex’s cheeks flushed. Before he could respond, though, Luke spoke again. “Wait, let me get this straight. Well, gay. You’ve liked a guy for an entire week, and you didn’t tell me? This is a betrayal of our friendship!” Alex knew he was being dramatic.

“You say that as if you didn’t do the exact same thing,” he countered. Luke considered that for a moment.

“Whatever. Okay, details.”

“His name’s Willie,” he said. “He’s a baker down at the kitchens behind the grand hall.” Alex saw a huge grin spread on Luke’s face, but couldn’t bring himself to share his friend’s ever-blooming optimism. He sighed. “Do you think there’s a way to go through with the marriage but like, platonically? Like, just tell the people ‘yeah we’re getting married, just not romantically.’ I just think that would work out better for everybody.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Luke said. “Not sure how it would work out, but I agree.”

“On the plus side, being criminals automatically makes us at least 50% cooler.”

“Dude, aren’t you the one with anxiety?”

“I have my moments.”

A familiar knock rang on the door. How, in one week, it had become so familiar, they would never know. But as Alex told Reggie to come in, his infectious smile permeated through the room like the smell of vanilla on a cold day.

“Did I hear something about treason?” he asked excitedly. “Because I am always down. Tell your friends; you need a treason buddy, I’m your guy. But of course, for legal reasons, that’s a joke.” Alex snorted.

Reggie had managed to weasel his way into both his and Luke’s hearts in a matter of days. He was so sweet, so loving, and such a dork, how could he not? Luke’s interactions with Reggie reminded Alex of two best friends who supported each other unconditionally. Alex’s own interactions with the princess’s brother? They were more like bantering siblings who loved each other so much, but were not above toilet-papering the other’s room.

“Well,” Luke began, “the arranged marriage was already a major fuck-up on the council’s decision. We could add in some treason to the mix. Just for funsies.”

“You just want to hang out with Julie, don’t you?” Alex prodded. Luke flushed, and Reggie grinned.

“Called it.”

“Oh come on, you too?”

“Dude,” Reggie said. “I love you, but you’re not exactly subtle.” Luke pouted, and Alex cracked up. “You, on the other hand,” Reggie added, “I’m not sure who your treasonous crush is.”

“A baker named Willie,” Luke interjected before Alex could reply. “And I still haven’t heard the story of how you met, I might add.” Alex groaned.

“I assume there’s no way I’m getting out of this?”

“Not a chance,” Luke and Reggie replied in unison.

This was going to be a disaster.

…

After explaining the details of how he met Willie, and enduring multiple agonizing minutes of Reggie and Luke gushing about an “adorable, treasonous meet-cute,” Alex finally prodded Luke for details about his feelings for Julie.

“Uh, well, it’s not really feelings, plus, I doubt Reggie wants to hear about hypothetical feelings someone might have for his sister.”

“Wrong,” Reggie said. “I want to know everything.” Alex laughed.

“See, I would explain, but the self-defense class starts in a minute-”

“Thirty,” Reggie corrected.

“Like I said, it starts in a minute, so I’d better run.” Without another word, he bolted out the door.

“You can’t keep running from your feelings forever,” Alex called to Luke.

“No, but I can run from you two goons!” Alex and Reggie couldn’t contain their laughter by that point, so they let that simp of a man get out of it for a little while.

…

After hanging out with Reggie in the recording studio, Alex was walking down the corridor behind the great hall, for old time’s (a week ago) sake, pacing back and forth. He didn’t actually know what he would do if someone asked why the prince was pacing the hallway near the kitchens for no apparent reason, but what happened was simultaneously both better and worse, because who would he run into (thankfully not literally this time) but a familiar brown-eyed man with a crooked smile.

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” He called, and oh, how Alex wished Willie didn’t have such an endearing smile.

“Hey, Willie!” He ignored the butterflies rising in his stomach. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good! Just got on break. You okay?” He asked, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex assured him. “Just walking.”

“Cool.”

Alex tried not to stare, but Willie made it impossible. The way he flipped his long hair, the way his dark eyes sparkled with flecks of gold in the light, how his smile lit up every time he spoke. The adorable smudge of flour on his nose didn’t help, either.

“You sure?” Willie asked, the faint flicker of concern right back to the furrow in his eyebrows. “You look a little dazed.”

Yeah, that’s because you’re gorgeous and I already have a crush on you despite only meeting you once.

“Just a little tired, I guess.” The lie was a classic one, and Willie could surely see through the bullshit, but if he did, he didn’t prod.

“Well, make sure you get some sleep tonight. In the meantime, I’m off to skate a little. You wanna come?”

Skating? There was a 100% chance that Alex would fall flat on his ass and humiliate himself. He’d never once been on a skateboard, at least, not since he’d sprained his wrist when he was seven, and his mother had banned all skateboards from the palace. And yet, the adorable look in Willie’s eyes still had Alex saying, “I’d love too.” He mentally kicked himself, but that annoyance was quickly replaced with another swarm of butterflies when Willie’s smile lit up even brighter than before.

“Sick! Follow me.”

…

The skate park wasn’t technically a skate park by any means. It was an actual park, hidden away in the vast garden grounds of Dahlia, and it really said something about the size of the palace grounds that Alex didn’t even know it was there.

Concrete sidewalks lined the perimeter, with swirling roundabouts at the corners, plus unoccupied metal benches and sliding railings that Willie didn’t hesitate to jump over. He even did a move where he jumped and the skateboard did a flip, before landing right back on it, steady as ever. But when Alex watched him let out a whoop and skate quickly around the roundabout as it sloped, not losing his balance once, he was sure Willie was just showing off.

Alex did his best to cool his blushing face as Willie made his way back.

“Want to try?” He asked.

“Oh, no,” he deflected. “I’ve never actually skateboarded before, and I’m pretty sure I’d just look stupid.”

“You’ve never skated before?”

“Not once.” He knew it was technically a lie, because he’d skated once when he was seven but that didn’t really count, but it still wasn’t true and what if Willie found out about the lie and hated him for being dishonest and what if he seemed like a bitch for lying about something so miniscule and-

“Well, there’s an easy way to fix that,” Willie said with a grin, making all of Alex’s previous anxieties melt away. They were, of course, quickly replaced with new ones because cute boy, but still.

Before Alex knew it, Willie was extending his hand and stepping off the skateboard, that beautiful, crooked smile still plastered on his gorgeous face. And then, despite the voice in the back of his head, screaming to play it safe, he listened to the whisper, barely audible, telling him to go for it. So, before he could change his mind, he took Willie’s hand. It was rough and calloused, with a few scars peppered on his fingers, but it was perfect. Slowly, tentatively, he stepped onto the skateboard, and…

Immediately fell flat on his ass. Or, he would have, had Willie not been quicker and run behind him, catching him by the shoulders with a laugh. Alex’s cheeks did their best to catch fire, and he immediately apologized.

“No, bro, you’re good! Just glad I caught you,” Willie said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, only just noticing how long Willie’s eyelashes were. He wasn't sure if he imagined it when Willie’s cheeks looked darker the longer he stared. Alex cleared his throat.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” Willie outstretched his hand again, and this time, Alex didn’t hesitate before taking it. He took a deep breath, grounding himself before stepping onto the skateboard, squeezing the other man’s hand and using him for support.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, very excitedly, considering all he’d done was step onto an immobile skateboard. But Willie shared his excitement.

“Hell yeah, dude! Want me to push you so you move?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Understandable, have a nice day.” Alex and Willie stared at each other, deadpan, before bursting out laughing. But, because the universe hated him, Alex fell forwards, right on top of Willie, chests pressed together and noses barely apart.

He tried to move, but he was too caught up in how fucking close they were. Willie had caught himself, leaning backwards but standing, and somehow his arms had gotten wrapped around Alex’s waist, holding him tight. It was clearly just to make sure neither of them fell, but Alex couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut.

Neither of them moved. Alex took a steadying breath, not looking away from Willie’s beautiful eyes. He cursed his stupid heart for fluttering, for suggesting treason because of a guy he’d just met, a guy with eyes so beautiful it should’ve been illegal, a guy with a perfect sense of humor, a guy who was so energetic and kind but also understanding, a guy who was now standing upright and steady, as was Alex, but who was still holding him close, arms wrapped around his waist. A guy who was surely just making sure he was still steady, but who looked at him with such intensity that it made him weak in the knees.

Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Sorry, I kinda… Fell.” Willie gave that perfect laugh, and oh, if Alex wasn’t already smitten, he was now.

“Yeah, I caught that. No pun intended.” Alex let out an extremely undignified snort.

“That,” he said through giggles, “was so bad.” When he looked up, Willie’s cheeks were red but he laughed too.

Maybe treasonous feelings weren’t so bad.

…

As he made his way up to his quarters, Alex flopped on his bed, a giddy grin still over his face. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he just couldn’t stop. Willie was so… he didn’t even have the words. His laugh was like sunshine in the Summer, warm and bright and the source of all life in the world. His eyes were dark but somehow bright as well, and in the light they looked like bowls of honey as they twinkled. Everything about him was so ethereal, and Alex was completely gone on him. Which was, of course, extremely illegal, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care.

As Luke walked in, the aroma of shampoo floating with him and giving away the fact that he’d just showered, he heard a laugh.

“How was your date?” Alex didn’t bother denying it.

“He tried to teach me how to skateboard,” he said, eyes dreamy as he remembered the fond look in Willie’s eyes as he’d fallen. “I almost fell but he-”

“No way. Did he catch you?”

“Twice.” Alex laughed when Luke squealed.

“Well, dude, you know it’s your turn to ask him out, right?”

What?

Alex bolted upright. “What do you mean?”

“I know you weren’t the one to ask him out today. That means it’s your turn to find him and ask him out for another little outing.”

“Fuck.” How the hell was he supposed to do that? He couldn’t just keep wandering the halls behind the kitchens, people would get suspicious. But… maybe he could find Willie again at the park. He’d seemed to know it well.

But what if that made him look creepy? That was Willie’s area that he’d brought Alex to, Alex was merely a guest in Willie’s beautiful domain, even if it was part of the palace. He still felt like he would be intruding.

“I’ll let you deal with that,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Yeah. In the meantime, though, how was self-defense?” Luke had a dopey grin as soon as he thought.

“Amazing.”

Alex listened to his best friend ramble on and on about how incredible it was, or rather, she was. Apparently, Julie had been instructed to go early, so Luke wasn’t able to avoid her. But it didn’t matter, because Alex got to hear his lovestruck best friend rant about how badass she was and how incredible their fights were when they sparred.

A knock rang on the door. Alex cleared his throat, standing up. Luke straightened his back. When he shot Alex a look, Alex nodded.

“Come in.” As the handle turned, a pit in Alex’s stomach formed as King Ray Molina stepped through. He scrambled into a bow, as did Luke.

“Your majesty, is everything alright?”

“It’s okay, mijos, there’s no need to bow.” Alex stood straight again. “You are needed in the royal office. Well, technically only Alex, but Luke should come too. And put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” With that, Ray left, leaving the two of them there.

A sinking pit in Alex’s stomach told him that something was very, very wrong.

-----

Luke POV

...

Laying on the floor with Alex was a daily occurrence. It truly was the best spot to have a crisis.

“Emotions are the bane of my existence,” Alex declared. Luke had to agree. “Like,” he continued, “how is it logical that a couple little zaps to the brain can make your stomach drop, or make your palms sweat, or even a week after something happened, still make you feel cold and warm at the same time?”

“Bro, I don’t know,” he agreed. “Like, one minute you’re fine, and the next you’re about to accidentally commit treason.” Alex let out a dry laugh.

“Tell me about it.” A few moments passed, and Luke stared at the ceiling. There were small knots in the gently stained wood planks, with no particular rhyme or reason. “Also, called it.”

“Wh-” Luke started, clearing his throat. “What do you mean, ‘called it?’”

“You like Julie?” Alex assumed. Luke fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t be treasonous. “I might’ve overthought every possible aspect of this, and your comment about accidental treason confirmed what I already thought.” Luke dragged a hand down his face and groaned. How obvious was he?

“I barely know her,” he started, “but I’m already so… I don’t even know the word. Intrigued? Infatuated? In-something.” In love, maybe.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a moment.

“Why?”

“I can only imagine how much this must be on your anxiety, and this doesn’t help.” Luke mentally kicked himself for adding another worry onto his best friend’s anxiety.

“It doesn’t, but it’s not the first bit of accidental treason.” Luke took a moment to process that before bolting upright.

“No way,” he said. “Who?” He ignored Alex’s blush. “Wait, let me get this straight. Well, gay. You’ve liked a guy for an entire week, and you didn’t tell me? This is a betrayal of our friendship!” How dare he? That was cruel. Luke could’ve been teasing him for seven fucking days and Alex had the gall to hide it?

The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch.

“You say that as if you didn’t do the exact same thing,” Alex countered. Luke considered that for a moment.

“Whatever. Okay, details.”

…

After hearing the adorable details of Alex’s meet-cute with Willie, Luke had officially decided he would be officiating their wedding. He could already see it. Of course, he didn’t have much time to imagine his best friend’s future husband, because soon Alex and Reggie were giving him shit for his “crush” on Julie, and he hightailed it out of there, deciding to go to self-defense early. He could just sit on the bench and wait, be free of anybody who would make his thoughts race-

But of course he couldn’t, because right there was Julie, walking into the arena.

"Hey Luke!" She called with a wave.

"Hey, Julie, what’s up?” He dearly hoped he wasn't blushing.

“Not much,” she replied. “Just came early because Lady Athena wanted me to show the trainees my upside-down move.” She tightened her ponytail. “Why are you here? The main session doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.” Luke blushed, his stomach flipping. What if she thought he was annoying?

“Oh,” he said with a shy laugh. “Alex and Reggie were giving me shit for… something,” he explained, hoping she didn’t catch his slip, “and I decided to escape.” Julie nodded.

“That’s valid.”

“Julie?” called Lady Athena. “You ready?”

“That's my cue,” she said with a smirk, hopping away and over to stand next to the coach. Luke couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The way she moved was ethereal, like a butterfly given human form.

She began explaining her move to the trainees, who were all looking very confused, which Luke understood. It looked super complicated, and you would need some serious core strength to pull it off. But somehow she did it in slow fucking motion.

He found himself migrating towards Julie’s friends, who thankfully greeted him with a smile.

Whispering introductions between them, he met Flynn (the girl with the braids), Carrie (Flynn’s girlfriend), and Mira (Julie’s lady-in-waiting). And as if Luke didn’t already have a healthy amount of fear and respect for the princess, she happened to surround herself with other badasses.

Flynn had an air of confidence around her. The way she squared her shoulders as she walked made her long, dark braids sway behind her back, and the bold style she always had just added to the effect. Carrie, Flynn’s girlfriend, was proof that some people were born to be royal. Everything Carrie did and wore, no matter how simple - like her current athletic clothes - screamed royalty, even though she wasn’t technically royal. And Mira was kind and confident, but there was an air about her that told Luke, this is a powerful woman. Not that he was surprised; He’d seen her fights against Julie.

But he just couldn’t take his eyes off of Julie. She moved so cleanly, never stumbling no matter how difficult the position must’ve been, and even as she held herself sideways on one arm and spun, she landed with uncanny grace.

“Okay, Julie, why don’t you get some water, and we’ll do the demonstrations with opponents?” Lady Athena’s long ponytail swished as she walked towards her, and Luke blushed when Julie smiled.

“Sounds good.” She spun on her heel, jogging to the group and catching Luke’s eye. He could’ve sworn her cheeks darkened, but then again, that move made for an intense workout.

“Dude, I don’t know how you managed to do that spin in slow motion,” Mira told her. Julie laughed, and Luke had never heard a sound so beautiful.

“Practice and good core strength.” She sat down on the bench, Mira by her side. So he was right; core strength was a necessity.

“Hey, uh, Julie?” asked Luke shyly. She was drinking water, so she hummed a questioning tone. Luke cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if I joined them and tried to learn the move?” he asked, gesturing his head to the group of preparing trainees. Julie put down her water bottle, smirking, and Luke felt his own smile rising, though he was also nervous. He wasn’t sure why.

“Technically, you’re not a trainee.” Oh. That was why. Luke opened his mouth to apologize, before Julie cut him off. “But, you could be one of the demonstrative opponents if you want to,” she offered. “I’m supposed to show how the move works against different fighting styles, and I think a Tamborian fighting style would add some variety.” Luke grinned and nodded, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Sounds good, boss.” That time he did see Julie blush, and couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

As Julie made her way over to the front of the mats, with Carrie by her side, he sat on the bench next to Mira, enchanted. Before they started their fight, though, Mira elbowed him in the ribs. When he glanced over, she didn’t say anything, but gave him a knowing smirk that made him flush. Was he really that obvious?

“What?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” she said. Luke stammered, trying to find an excuse. Mira laughed.

“Don’t worry, dude. I’m not sure if they would exile me for saying this, but you guys would be cute together. Might be illegal, but then again, I’m always down for some treason.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but he knew he was joking. Evidently, Mira did as well, because she snorted and went back to watching Julie and Carrie.

Luke eagerly did the same, watching as Julie made the first move. Carrie hopped out of the way, striking and giving Julie and opportunity to lean forwards. The princess hopped and landed on her right hand, spinning and tripping Carrie. Luke didn’t pay attention to what she said, but was entranced by how she moved. He vaguely remembered something about a dancer.

“That’s my cue,” Mira told him as Julie finished the round against Carrie. “See you later, lover boy.” Before Luke could come up with a comeback for Julie’s kind but blunt friend, she winked and walked away.

As Julie fought Mira, she mentioned something about a ninja, as well as the way the word “lithe” sounded on her tongue. He watched as she danced around the other girl, twisting and tripping her before winning the fight.

Flynn strutted over to Julie, a confident smirk on her face. She was catlike when she fought, something both Luke and Julie noticed, and he was very proud of himself for thinking of it as she pointed it out.

“However,” Julie said as she made the final spin, pinning Flynn and grabbing her collar, “it turns out, cats don’t always land on their feet.”

Whoa.

Not only was she a complete and utter badass, but she was good at bantering with her friends. Luke wasn’t sure why he loved that so much, but a grin broke out on his face, blushing as he caught Julie’s gaze.

"Next,” Julie said, snapping Luke back to the present, “I'm going to fight with Luke. He's from Tambor, so this will be new." She nodded, and he obeyed, practically floating over to her.

As Julie stepped into fighting position, Luke winked, quite pleased with himself for flustering her, then struck. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to get the upper hand. Julie took advantage of his opportunistic nature, when he left himself vulnerable as he attacked, she struck back with twice the confidence.

Soon, though, he tripped. As he lost his balance, Julie spun upside down and tripped him. Luke’s back hit the ground and he let out a gentle “oof,” but couldn’t recover before Julie was on top of him. Luke was extremely aware of the way her leg pinned his hips down to the mat, the way her shoulders moved as she breathed evenly but quickly, the way her hand curled into a fist as she grabbed his collar and pulled her other arm backwards to finish. He tried to move his arms, but the way she’d positioned her torso made it impossible for him to defend his head from her possible blow. He was completely at the mercy of this girl, trusting her not to strike with finality, but not trusting his own unruly heart to steady as he found himself lost in her eyes.

But then, because the universe hated him, Julie winked. His breath caught in his throat and he flushed bright red.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. Luke was acutely aware of the shine of her dark skin, the single loose curl by her ear, the confident smirk on her face. But just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Julie got up, extending her arm, which Luke took. Everywhere her hand touched left tingles on his forearm.

“Nice job!” she told him. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, I just got my ass kicked and you didn’t even break a sweat.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew you were awesome, but I didn’t know you were a human wrecking ball.” Of course, when Julie blushed, he felt a surge of confidence and accomplishment.

“I- well, I don’t-”

“He’s right,” Carrie insisted. You were awesome.” Luke grinned and nodded, reaching over to high-five her.

“Okay, trainees,” called Lady Athena. “Pair up and spar. If you want, spot the other and try the move. I’ll be hovering to make sure nobody gets hurt.” She clapped her hands with finality, and the trainees did as they were told. “The rest of you,” she added, directed at Luke and the Badasses, “practice while you can. Oh, Julie, I want you to practice with Luke today. See if you can work out some similarities and differences between Dahlian and Tamborian fighting styles.”

Oh.

Fuck.

How the hell was Luke going to survive sparring with Julie multiple times, purely for practice and not staged? He wouldn’t be able to go one minute without completely losing it every time she looked at him.

Luke noticed Carrie, Mira, and Flynn all giving him a look that made him fidget. It turned out he was the opposite of subtle. And as Reggie walked towards them, a knowing smirk on his face as well, Luke knew he was dead. He quickly tried to compose himself.

“Alright, boss,” he said after a moment. “Ready to kick my ass?” Julie laughed, and Luke could’ve listened to that sound for the rest of his life.

“Let’s do it.”

Luke struck first, a playful grin on his face. Julie quickly deflected, twisting his arm and twirling behind him, causing Luke’s heart to flutter. It didn’t last long, though, because then she was shoving the backs of his knees and pinning him as he fell down, kneeling hunched over with her holding his wrists behind his back.

“That’s one for me!” She laughed as he groaned. Way to humiliate yourself, Patterson.

“Damn, and to think I ever thought I was good at hand-to-hand.” Luke took her arm, letting her help him up. An idea formed in his head, a cruel one, but it would work. He had to quickly hide the grin on his face. “Wait, I want to try that spinny move thing.” As Julie stepped back. Luke smirked to himself, hopping forward and purposely falling during the spin. It wasn’t like he needed to try to fall, though; that move was impossible.

“Gah, my wrist!” He feigned injury, but his heart still fluttered as Julie rushed over to him. She cared.

But, he couldn’t play nice. He grinned and quickly took her arm, pulling her down to the ground and flipping on top of her. Luke pinned her shoulders, shooting her a cocky grin, but ignoring the look on her face. It was so soft and surprised, but playful and… he daresay impressed.

“And that’s one for me.”

“That wouldn’t work in a real fight, you know,” she informed Luke as she rolled out from under him. She wasn’t humiliated, as far as he could tell, which was probably a good thing. Humiliating the heiress to the Dahlian throne wasn’t a great idea. But her cheeks were darkened with a blush, and she was certainly flustered. Luke patted himself on the back.

“Oh, I know,” he said calmly. “It’s just fun to annoy you.” He could’ve sworn she blushed even more, but she looked away too quickly for him to confirm.

“Alright, rematch,” she decided, her voice confident. Luke nodded, and Julie hopped into fighting position. Luke did the same, noting how adorable it was as she bounced on the balls of her feet, before striking. She moved quickly and unpredictably, but when Luke dodged a hit to his shoulder and she hopped forward, he knew what was coming. He leaned backwards and, as her legs swept underneath his ankles, he jumped and avoided the killer move.

As he avoided her spin, he noticed Julie trying to recover as quickly as she could, but she stumbled, and Luke quickly took advantage of that. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around almost like a ballroom dance, and then holding her back against his chest, his arm pinning her shoulders. He felt his own heartbeat against her back, her rapid breathing making her shoulder blades prick his stomach.

“I win,” he whispered, a grin on his face- one that was quickly replaced with a look of shock when Julie reached up and grabbed his wrist, leaning forwards and throwing him to the floor upside down. As his back hit the ground, he let out a soft “oof” and didn’t get the chance to move before Julie was on top of him, flattening her body over his to make sure he couldn’t move and pinning his shoulders with her forearm. He knew he’d lost the fight, but currently he was more interested in the quirked eyebrow on her face, the shine of sweat on her forehead, and how very close they were.

“Actually, I win.”

…

Luke stood in the shower, letting the cool water wash over him. He normally took warm showers, even after working out, but today he needed the familiar feeling of cold shivers down his spine. There was something about Julie that made him so warm, like he’d known her his whole life. Julie was like the feeling of a sip of warm cocoa on a winter day, like sunlight peeking over the mountaintops. She was intriguing, so complicated and layered, like a mystery that he desperately wanted to solve. Luke couldn’t piece together just why she had that effect on him, though he had a few ideas.

Quickly drying himself off, he changed into a lightweight guard uniform. It was more of a casual suit than a uniform; the guardsmen dress codes in Dahlia weren’t nearly as strict as they were in Tambor. They were more focused on abilities rather than looking like guards. So long as you looked respectable, that was enough.

The cool fabric of the white dress shirt felt good against his skin, and the heather grey vest was a light pressure, keeping him secure. The matching jacket was tailored to a slim fit, but, given that he was a guard, there were also sheaths built into the inside, with simple but deadly daggers within them.

If he was being honest, Luke hated carrying weapons. He felt cool, sure, but he still hated it. No matter how well they were hidden - and well hidden they were; not even the outlines were visible from the outside - he always knew they were there. That, even though they should be safe, there was always a possibility. A possibility that he might end up using one of the cruel blades strapped to his chest.

…

When he walked into Alex’s room from his quarters across the hall, his best friend was sprawled out on his bed, a dopey grin spread across his face. Luke immediately knew he’d been with Willie.

“How was your date?”

“He tried to teach me how to skateboard,” he said. Luke grinned to himself. That was the cutest thing ever. “I almost fell but he-” Luke gasped, knowing his best friend’s disaster-gay-levels well enough to know where this was going.

“No way. Did he catch you?”

“Twice.” Luke squealed, bringing his hands to his cheeks. Alex was getting a classic boyfriend meet-cute and pining stage. It was like something out of a romance novel.

“Well, dude, you know it’s your turn to ask him out, right?” Luke laughed, practically feeling Alex’s nervousness, which was confirmed when Alex bolted upright.

“What do you mean?” Luke snorted. Dumbass.

“I know you weren’t the one to ask him out today. That means it’s your turn to find him and ask him out for another little outing.”

“Fuck.” Luke could see the thoughts running a million miles an hour in his friend’s head, and soon he would be spiraling into gay panic and anxiety.

“I’ll let you deal with that,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Yeah. In the meantime, though, how was self-defense?” Luke didn’t bother hiding the huge grin that spread across his face as he remembered his time with Julie.

“Amazing. I got there early since you and Reggie were being assholes-”

“Love you too.”

“-But it turned out she was there early as well. Well, her and her friends. She has this super badass move where she jumps and lands on one fucking hand and spins twice, tripping you backwards and then pinning you, and she was teaching it to the trainees. Holy fuck, Alex, I don’t know how she does it. And she did it in slow motion!” He raked a hand through his hair. “She was going to demonstrate the move in fights with Mira, Flynn, and Carrie, and I asked if I could join the trainees to learn the move, because of course I did, and then she said that I ‘technically wasn’t a trainee,’ but then offered to let me be one of the demonstrative opponents.”

“And I’m guessing that went well?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “And then, when the trainees were practicing, Lady Athena paired us for the rest of the session, so I got to spar with her.”

“Oooooh!” Luke gave a light punch in mock offense, but he was still glowing.

“Bro, she’s amazing.”

“I can see that.” Luke ignored the shit-eating grin on Alex’s face.

A knock rang on the door, and Luke straightened, looking at Alex as he stood up.

“Come in.” When King Ray walked in, Luke hastily bowed.

“Your majesty, is everything alright?” Alex asked.

“It’s okay, mijos, there’s no need to bow. You are needed in the royal office. Well, technically only Alex, but Luke should come too.” Luke nodded as Ray looked at him. “And put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” With that, Ray left, leaving the two of them there.

Something was wrong.

-----

Reggie POV

...

Suit vest long abandoned, sleeves messily rolled up, Reggie fiddled with the stim toy in his pocket, humming to himself as he wandered the long expanse of the Dahlian palace gardens, letting the different scents envelop him. Sometimes this would’ve pushed him into sensory overload, with all of the overlapping smells from the flowers, the sound of chirping birds, bright sunlight, breeze and stim toy, but today it just felt right. He hummed a familiar melody to himself, trying to place it as he wandered, spinning around and occasionally dancing with his steps.

His lips moved to words before he knew it, and he was finally able to place the song: Wake Up. Julie had written it with Rose before she passed away. A sad smile quirked the corners of her mouth. It had been a few years since it happened, but a pang of grief still struck Reggie’s heart. He’d lived at the palace since he was nine, and Rose had become like a mother to him. For seven years she’d raised him like one of her own, a kind, gentle woman. She was the one who taught him to play the bass, too.

Reggie missed her. But Julie looked just like her, and she was so strong, his chest still swelled with pride every time he looked at her. And her voice, her music, it was like Rose in every way, and yet so uniquely Julie.

The lyrics to Wake Up were so inspirational that, even when humming to himself in the gardens, they still brought the familiar prickle of tears to his eyes.

Better wake those demons // Just look them in the eye // No reason not to try

Those lines in particular were the most powerful to him. They were the lines that helped him confront his grief after Rose had passed away, and the ones that made his heart grow and ache every time Julie sang them.

Reggie sighed, letting the memory of Rose wash over him, both melancholy and bright. Every step was filled with happiness and longing, but he knew that if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be the person he was today. He might’ve still lived in the palace with Julie, sure; it was Ray who had found him and taken him in. But Rose had guided his love for music with Julie.

As he danced around the garden, a strong breeze whipped his hair. He noticed something flying towards him - a leaf, probably. But as he saw it flutter against the wind, he realized that it was a butterfly.

Without thinking, he reached up, letting the butterfly stop against his palm. He shielded it from the wind with his other hand, letting it regain its balance. He giggled as it crawled across his finger, the faint tickling sensation like dandelion wisps on his nose in the Summer. Then, the butterfly took flight against the wind, this time able to push back and fly.

…

Reggie, after finding his suit vest draped across a rosebush, wandered through the corridor to Alex’s room. He, Alex, and Luke had become close friends in the past week. Something about the three of them just clicked.

He knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern that matched with the song stuck in his head, sauntering in, the word treason filling his ears. A grin spread across his face; he knew exactly what the treason was.

“Well,” Luke began, “the arranged marriage was already a major fuck-up on the council’s decision. We could add in some treason to the mix. Just for funsies.” Reggie nodded. He might’ve been seen as a goody-two-shoes to some people, but he wasn’t opposed to breaking some rules.

“You just want to hang out with Julie, don’t you?” Alex asked. Luke flushed, and Reggie grinned.

“Called it,” he said.

“Oh come on, you too?”

“Dude,” Reggie began. “I love you, but you’re not exactly subtle.” Luke pouted, and Alex cracked up. “You, on the other hand,” Reggie added, “I’m not sure who your treasonous crush is.” He knew Alex was gay, but there weren’t any guys he knew of that he would like.

“A baker named Willie,” Luke interjected before Alex could reply. “And I still haven’t heard the story of how you met, I might add.” Alex groaned, and Reggie clapped. A baker. That was so cliche, but so adorable. He could already see the wedding.

“I assume there’s no way I’m getting out of this?”

“Not a chance,” Luke and Reggie replied in unison, and Reggie high-fived him without looking. Alex groaned.

“So, you remember the feast the night I got here? I was kinda overwhelmed so I stepped out the back door, and this guy just fuckin… Ran me over.” Reggie laughed.

“He pancaked you!”

“Exactly that. Anyway, that happened and I kinda froze because he was really cute. And eventually we were just… Chatting. And I can’t fucking get him out of my mind and now I’m royally fucked because this is treason.”

“Well, like I said, I’m always down for a little treason,” Reggie repeated. “And might I add, that is adorable!!!”

“I know, right?” Luke asked, grinning at Reggie. He nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s an adorable, treasonous meet-cute!!! I swear, this is like something out of a romance novel.”

“That’s what I thought!!!”

“You two are the worst,” Alex informed them.

“You love us,” Reggie said with a grin.

“Unfortunately.”

“Now, Luke. What’s this I hear about some more treasonous feelings for a certain Princess Julie Molina?” Reggie poked his friend in the ribs, laughing when his blush went all the way to his ears.

“Uh, well, it’s not really feelings, plus, I doubt Reggie wants to hear about hypothetical feelings someone might have for his sister.”

“Wrong,” Reggie said. “I want to know everything.” There was no way he was getting away with crushing on his sister without Reggie doing some well-meaning meddling. He didn’t mind that Luke liked Julie, of course. He was a nice guy, and Julie clearly liked him as well. But, Luke was also one of his best friends, and therefore required to spill.

“See, I would explain, but the self-defense class starts in a minute-”

“Thirty,” Reggie corrected.

“Like I said, it starts in a minute, so I’d better run.” Without another word, he bolted out the door.

“You can’t keep running from your feelings forever,” Alex called to Luke.

“No, but I can run from you two goons!” Reggie cracked up, along with Alex.

“Simp,” Reggie declared.

“Definitely.”

“Hey, you mentioned you play drums, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex said with a smile. “And you play… bass?”

“Yep! There’s a recording studio in the basement, you want to go play?”

“I’d love to! Luke keeps getting on my case because I tap on the desk when I’m working through sim files.” Reggie nodded. It was understandable for him as well; even though he wasn’t a drummer, he had ADHD, and sim files were such a pain. They were cool, sure; they were files in which you developed a country similar to Dahlia, and there were social issues, economic questions, political queries, all of which would affect how your practice country developed, even with the details of foreign relations. Reggie wasn’t bad at them, per se, but it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t becoming king. He always got distracted, and while he was quite good at it, especially diplomacy, it just wasn’t what he wanted to do. And it wasn’t a matter of ADHD, either. Julie had ADD. She was just better at it, maybe because she’d been raised for it since birth, and Reggie had lived here for a considerably short time compared to her.

His most recent sim file was on economic development, concerning poverty, disproportionate wealth, and tax rates. Dahlian wealth was relatively evenly distributed; much better than some countries. But he just didn’t like the way the sim files were set up.

…

“Dude, this is sick!” Alex’s enthusiasm was practically tangible, and Reggie smiled.

“I know, right? Just be careful not to touch the handshake prank things on the shelf,” he added, pointing to a small stash. “They’re Carlos’s. One time he added some static electricity and zapped me, and it felt just like the time I was fixing my amp in the rain.”

“You shouldn’t… Okay.”

“Anyway, how do you like the drums?” Alex played a rhythm on the bass, snare, and hi-hat, grinning.

“They’re awesome,” he decided. “In a lot better shape than my set back in Tambor. I’ve had them since I was seven, and they’re pretty beat-up.”

“Oof,” Reggie said. “These are a bit old, but none of us are any good at playing, so they’re just like new!”

Reggie hopped across the room to grab his bass, strapping it around his shoulders and playing a riff. It started with a slide down the A string, and when he began adding more notes, Alex joined in with a rhythm. Reggie gasped.

“Alex, that sounds perfect!” When Alex gave him a confused look, Reggie realized he hadn’t given context. “Julie and I have been writing a song called Icarus, and trying to learn the drums to add in a beat, but that riff I was playing was the baseline for it, right? That beat you were just playing sounded perfect. Dude, we gotta get Jules in here later. She’s gonna be pumped.” Alex grinned.

“That sounds awesome, dude! What’s the song like?”

“It’s pretty upbeat,” Reggie started. “It’s got a sort of inspirational vibe to it. The guitar we’re trying to add has kind of a rock and roll sound, but not metal. I’m trying to figure out how to play it, but I always strum wrong since I’m so used to bass.” He laughed, remembering how he’d tried to strum with the outside of his index finger.

“No way,” Alex said. Reggie gave him a confused look. “Luke plays guitar. He’s insane at it, too. What if the four of us played it? You on the bass, me on drums, Luke on guitar, and Julie on piano and vocals?”

“And you, Luke and I could be backup vocals! Alex, you’re a genius. We’ll be Julie’s Beyonce girls.”

“Yeah, okay.” Reggie grinned. This would be perfect. He just needed to get Julie and Julie’s Future Treasonous Boyfriend (Luke) to join them in the studio later.

…

Self-defense was interesting to say the least. Reggie had the honor of watching his little sister teach a bunch of nervous trainees a move that, if he was being honest, was impossible to do for anybody but Julie. He only caught the last demonstrative round, though, which proved to be just as entertaining as watching her whole teaching session would be.

Why? Well, because she was sparring with Luke. The tension was tangible as they ducked and dodged and struck, and as Julie ended up on top of him, his collar in her fist, a confident smirk on her face, Reggie grinned to himself at how oblivious they both were. They oozed chemistry.

He approached as Lady Athena instructed the trainees to pair up and practice, and luckily caught the flustered and excited look on both Luke’s and Julie’s faces when Lady Athena paired them for sparring. He shot a knowing look at them as he paired with Mira to spar.

They made idle conversation as they practiced, occasionally interrupted by a quick “duck” as the other sent a strike their way.

“Did you know your sister was this oblivious?” Mira asked him. Reggie laughed.

“Nope, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has a habit of ignoring things she doesn’t like, which probably includes treasonous emotions.” Mira laughed, and Reggie took advantage of it, flipping her over and pinning her, winning the match, laughing as she rolled her eyes but took his hand, pulling her up.

“Believe me, I know,” Mira said. “She once got a sim file from a nearby sim country in her foreign relations packet that was questioning the ethics of her country on LGBTQ matters, and she just ignored it because it annoyed her.” Reggie snorted. That did sound like Julie.

Twisting around Mira’s next attack, but quickly regretting it as she hooked her ankle around his knee, knocking him over and winning, Reggie wondered if he could somehow set them up.

“Hey, Mira?”

“Mhm?”

“You know how one of your jobs as Julie’s lady-in-waiting is to help arrange her outfits?” Mira nodded, a smirk growing on her face.

“Say no more.” Reggie grinned. Reggie was his name, and meddling was his game.

…

Reggie was working on a new riff for the bridge of Icarus when someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he called, still bent over his notebook, scrawling down notes as he hummed.

“Hey, mijo?” Reggie whirled around to see Ray. He smiled.

“Hi Ray! Everything okay?”

“Not exactly, but I’ll explain that later. We need you in the royal office. I’ve already been to see Julie, Luke, and Alex, they’re coming as well. Just… It might be a long night, so put on something respectable but comfortable.”

“Okay,” Reggie agreed, concerned. “Did something happen?” Ray bit his lip nervously and nodded, walking away without another word.

-----

Willie POV

...

“Hey, Alyssa, how’s that dough looking?” Willie asked from across the kitchen, where he was gathering ingredients for the Hawaiian style shredded chicken.

“Almost done rising,” she called back. “Probably needs about five more minutes.”

“Awesome, thanks!”

“Yep!”

Willie gathered the ingredients in his arms, doing his best not to poke his eye out with the leaves of the pineapple. As he reached his counter, he set down the huge fruit, spreading out the other ingredients, many of them spices. He grabbed a knife from the block behind him, chopping the leaves off of the pineapple, then spinning it as he scalped the rough, pointy skin off as well. He chopped the rest into small pieces and brought them to Alyssa, who was in front of a large slow cooker with chicken inside. He set the bowl down on the counter, nodding from her thanks and running back to the dough, separating and rolling it to create rolls, sticking them in the oven.

“Willie, why don’t you go on break,” Lilian suggested. Willie jumped; Lilian walked silently, and she’d appeared right behind him.

“You’ve been working really hard today,” she added. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good! Thanks.” It was the truth, he was fine. But he was working extra hard today because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep Alex off his mind. He always worked best when he had something else to think about; the actions practically did themselves. He hadn’t even realized how much he was doing.

“I think I’ll take you up on that break,” he decided. “Be back in an hour or so?” Lilian nodded, patting his shoulder.

“Relax, child.”

“Who are you calling ‘child?’” he asked. “You’re only twenty-five.”

“And you’re nineteen. You’re a child.” Willie rolled his eyes but laughed.

“See you later!”

…

As he ran out the door, leaving his apron swinging on a hook, who would he see but Alex? A grin broke out on his face and, despite his better judgement, he called out to him (after he’d settled his blush, of course).

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” He called, butterflies rising in his stomach as Alex looked his way.

“Hey, Willie! How’s it going?”

“Pretty good! Just got on break. You okay?” He asked, noticing the nervousness in Alex’s (beautiful) eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex assured him. “Just walking.”

“Cool.” He fixed his hair, flipping it away from his shoulders. “You sure? You look a little dazed.”

I am too, but that’s just because you’re adorable.

“Just a little tired, I guess.” The lie was a classic one, and Willie saw right through it. He could tell that Alex didn’t want to talk about it, though so he left it alone. He always hated having people up in his business.

“Well, make sure you get some sleep tonight,” he told him. “In the meantime, I’m off to skate a little. You wanna come?”

Willie wasn’t sure if Alex would say yes, no, or just walk away laughing. Skateboarding wasn’t something you would expect a prince to do.

But then, Alex replied, “I’d love to,” and Willie’s grin stretched even wider, dearly hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Sick! Follow me.”

He led Alex down the back of the corridor, thankful that Alex was behind him, because that meant he could let his gay panic show on his face without letting the person causing it know. His long hair blocked his jaw from view, as well, so he was confident that Alex was oblivious to the fact that Willie was currently aggressively mouthing cute boy cute boy cute boy.

Willie took Alex’s hand, grinning when Alex smiled. He brought him out the back door, into the streaming sunlight and to the park in the gardens. Hardly anybody knew of its existence, which was just how Willie liked it. He’d been given permission to skate there, and never once had he seen another person there. Bringing Alex there felt strange, but right. This had become Willie’s area, where he would go to get away from people when he needed to, and now he was letting Alex in. He wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to do it, but he was glad he did.

Willie shot him a glance, getting on the skateboard and flying down the sidewalks, jumping over metal rails and benches. He did a quick kickflip after he landed, skating back around the roundabout, his grin wide as ever as he made his way back to Alex.

“Want to try?”

“Oh, no,” Alex replied, “I’ve never actually skateboarded before, and I’m pretty sure I’d just look stupid.”

“You’ve never skated before?” Willie’s eyebrows knit together. He wasn’t necessarily surprised, given that Alex was a prince, but still, every boy he’d ever met had skateboarded.

“Not once.”

“Well, there’s an easy way to fix that,” Willie said with a grin, extending his hand as he stepped off the skateboard. His heart fluttered as Alex reluctantly took it, his hand cold but soft as he held on, stepping on.

But before he could say anything, Alex was stepping onto it lopsidedly, and Willie instinctively ran around behind him, his hands bracing Alex’s shoulders as he fell. Willie had rather large hands, and as his thumbs stretched to his back, he felt Alex’s racing heartbeat. He knew it was because he’d almost fallen off of a skateboard, but he couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Alex said. “I-

“No, bro, you’re good! Just glad I caught you,” Willie said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, and Willie tried (and failed) to calm his blush. He noticed a few freckles across Alex’s nose, barely there, like stars in the sky just after sunset.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” Willie outstretched his hand again, and grinned when Alex took it, stepping on steadily, squeezing his hand.

He liked this, holding hands with Alex. He could imagine doing this every day, casual affection, maybe playing with his hair-

No. He shoved those thoughts out of his head. Alex was in an arranged marriage. To get in the way of that would be treason. Plus, Willie didn’t even know if Alex liked guys.

“I did it!” Alex exclaimed, a grin on his face as he stood on the skateboard. Willie broke out into a huge smile, his chest swelling with pride. Alex was a nerd, but he was his nerd.

“Hell yeah, dude! Want me to push you so you move?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Understandable, have a nice day.” Willie and Alex both cracked up, tears in his eyes. But he heard wobbling, and soon he was catching Alex right in front of him as he fell. Willie leaned back, stopping himself from falling on his back, but the main thing on his mind was how close he and Alex were. Their chests were pressed together, and Willie could barely tell whose racing heartbeat was his. He was close enough to count Alex’s long eyelashes, close enough to...

It was a nice thought, but it would never happen.

Willie’s arms were wrapped around Alex’s waist, holding him steady as he stood up straighter, but not letting go. He held his gaze, steadying his breath, lost in Alex’s eyes. They were a mixture of blue, green, and grey, light but mysterious and beautiful, like frost on a garden, twinkling in moonlight. Without meaning to, his eyes flicked to Alex’s lips for a split second, and Willie could’ve sworn Alex’s did the same.

Finally, Alex cleared his throat and stepped back. Willie wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. He liked holding Alex like that.

“Sorry, I kinda… Fell.” Willie cracked up at the bluntness.

“Yeah, I caught that. No pun intended.” He hated himself for the pun, but all of the hate was replaced with love when Alex let out a snort.

“That,” he said through giggles, “was so bad.” Willie blushed but laughed too, caught up in the mirth in Alex's eyes. He looked so young, laughing like this, free and happy. And when he’d finally composed himself, his cheeks were rosy from laughter, small lines around his eyes.

It was official: Willie was smitten.

-----

Julie POV

...

Julie groaned.

It had been an entire week, and all of her interactions with Luke were minimal and cordial, but there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t shake. Every time he bowed, his eyes would flick up to meet hers, every time he smiled, they would crinkle and smile with his lips. Julie couldn’t get rid of these stupid feelings, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she told herself that she was literally about to commit treason every time she was tempted to act.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve groaned in the past ten minutes,” Flynn pointed out. “Care to tell us what’s going on?”

“Jules, we know something’s wrong. You can try to hide it all you want, but that won’t change it.” Carrie examined her perfect nails, which were painted gold and shimmered in the light.

“I don’t know,” she lied. Flynn and Carrie shared a look.

“Alright, what’s his name?” Julie bolted upright from her spot on her bed, flushed.

“What do you mean?” Her two friends shared another look and laughed.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Carrie told her, “you know that?” Julie groaned a fifth time.

“So I’ll ask again,” Flynn decided. “What’s his name?” When Julie stayed silent, she added, “dude. You know that if anyone’s down for a little treason, it’s us.” She wasn’t wrong, and Julie knew that. Flynn was ride-or-die, Carrie too. Neither of them would hesitate before committing war crimes if it meant helping Julie, and she didn’t take that for granted. She was still emotional about it, though.

“You know Alex’s guard, Luke?”

“The one who was showering you in compliments at self-defense last week?” Flynn asked, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“He complimented me once, Flynn.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to.”

“I think I will.”

Carrie snorted. “Jules, you clearly like him. Make a move!”

“Carrie,” Julie said calmly. “I say this with love. Are you out of your mind?”

“I mean, probably.” Flynn cracked up and Carrie’s perfect face had a smug little smile that pissed Julie off. She flopped back down.

“This whole thing sucks.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn agreed, though she still had a grin on her face. “You know what would help?”

“Treason?” Carrie suggested.

“Nope! Well, yes, but I was going to say getting ready for self-defense. Lady Athena wanted us to go early today, remember?”

Unfortunately, Julie did remember, and she was dreading it. Lady Athena had asked if she could practice her upside-down move some more, and then show it to the training guards, plus a demonstrative spar with each of the other three girls to show how to use it against different fighting styles.

Before she could respond, Mira walked in, piles of fabric in her arms.

“Who’s ready to go?” She asked enthusiastically. “I just had these tailored,” she said, putting down the fabric, which turned out to be matching athletic clothes. Soft, high-waisted capris leggings, with matching tops that were slim-fitting and cropped at the ribs. The halter neckline was gentle and hemmed, nothing fancy or tied.

“They should be nice and cool so you don’t get too sweaty,” Mira explained, “and they’re form-fitting to make movement easier.” She handed a set to Julie, violet in color. Carrie’s was hot pink, and Flynn’s was jade green. Mira wore a sky blue set.

“Mira, have I mentioned that you’re the best lady-in-waiting ever?” Julie asked, a huge grin spreading on her face.

“Not in the last five minutes.”

…

As she walked into the training arena, flanked by Flynn, Mira, and Carrie, Julie pulled her hair into a ponytail, giving Lady Athena a grin.

“Alright, ready to show these guys how it’s done?” she asked confidently, her bronze skin shimmering in the light. Julie nodded. Lady Athena patted Julie’s shoulder and turned back to the group of about twenty young people, ranging from about thirteen to twenty, of all genders. She scanned the eyes, recognizing some of them from her previous self-defense classes, before she stopped on a pair of hazel ones.

Luke wasn’t with the group of trainees, rather standing on the sidelines. Without thinking, Julie approached him.

“Hey Luke!” His cheeks flushed.

“Hey, Julie, what’s up?”

“Not much,” she replied. “Just came early because Lady Athena wanted me to show the trainees my upside-down move.” She fidgeted, tightening her ponytail. “Why are you here? The main session doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

“Oh,” he said with a shy laugh. “Alex and Reggie were giving me shit for… something, and I decided to escape.” Julie caught his slip, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s valid.”

“Julie?” Called Lady Athena. “You ready?”

“That’s my cue,” she said, hopping away and over to stand next to the coach. Her eyes travelled to Flynn, Carrie, and Mira, who were standing behind the eager trainees, all giving her The Look and glancing at Luke. Julie gave them a quick death stare, before going back to smiling at the trainees.

“Okay, everyone,” Lady Athena called, quieting the chatter amongst the group. “Princess Julie is here to show us a new move she came up with. We haven’t come up for it yet, have we?”

“No, not yet,” Julie responded. “But I’m working on it. Oh, and you can all call me Julie.”

“Right. So, Julie here is going to demonstrate the move, first on her own, then with a few other people she’s brought, to show how it works against different fighting styles. Julie?”

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands nervously. “So, the first thing is knowing when to do it. You generally do it when your opponent has you in a position where you have to lean forward.” She demonstrated, bending a bit forward. “Then, you jump, land on your hand - and it’s important that it’s the hand that matches the direction you’re facing. If you lean forward to the right, your opponent’s left, you jump on your right hand, and vice versa. Then, you spin by using momentum in your hips. This is mostly to distract them. Then, after the initial spin, you spin again, but rather than upright, you bend your elbow, lean like this-” she went through the previous moves then leaned to the side, putting down her leg to hold herself in the same position- “and spin, swinging your legs behind your opponent’s ankles to trip them backwards.” She demonstrated that bit as well, as slow as she could while still doing it correctly. “Then once they’re down, you use your spinning momentum to get on top of them and finish the fight.”

As she stood back up, she noted the confused or scared looks on the trainees’ faces, as well as an approving smile from Lady Athena and silent applause from Flynn, Mira, and Carrie- and Luke. At some point during her demonstration, he’d made his way over to her friends, and they were quietly chatting as she moved.

“That looks really hard,” one of the trainees piped up, “but super badass.” If there was a way to verbally keysmash, Julie did it.

“Thanks so much!!! Though I should tell you, the first time I did it was completely by accident, and I sprained my wrist doing the initial spin. Afterwards, the only reason I tried it again was because Flynn bet me I couldn’t.” She shot a glance at her best friend, and her smirk and nod make her laugh. “But eventually,” she continued, “Lady Athena saw me trying to do it and gave me some tips, and one thing led to another, and here we are.”

After a few moments of stunned silence, Lady Athena spoke.

“Okay, Julie, why don’t you get some water, and we’ll do the demonstrations with opponents?”

“Sounds good.” She spun on her heel, jogging over to her friends, ignoring the butterflies as she caught Luke’s eye.

“Dude, I don’t know how you managed to do that spin in slow motion,” Mira told her. Julie laughed.

“Practice and good core strength.” She sat down on the bench, Mira by her side.

“Hey, uh, Julie?” asked Luke. She was guzzling water, so she hummed a questioning tone. “Would it be okay if I joined them and tried to learn the move?” he asked, gesturing his head to the group of preparing trainees. Julie put down her water bottle, smirking, a sudden bubble of confidence welling up inside her.

“Technically, you’re not a trainee. But, you could be one of the demonstrative opponents if you want to,” she offered. “I’m supposed to show how the move works against different fighting styles, and I think a Tamborian fighting style would add some variety,” she reasoned, ignoring Carrie’s eyebrow wiggle from behind Luke.

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded with a grin.

“Sounds good, boss.” Julie flushed at the nickname.

…

As she sparred with Carrie, she spoke between her moves.

"See, Carrie fights like a dancer. She's graceful and quick-" she dodged a blow from the girl, taking the opportunity to jump on her hand and twist, spinning and quickly tripping Carrie- "but not quick enough. No opponent is going to expect you to pull a breakdancing move on them." As she got on top of Carrie, pressing her elbow across her shoulders and pinning her down, a grin spread across her face.

Julie got up and extended her hand to Carrie, who took her forearm and Julie took hers, pulling her up.

Mira was up next. She jumped into a fighting position, her flaming red hair swinging behind her. Julie smirked, making the first blow.

"Mira, on the other hand, fights like a ninja. She's lithe and graceful, but deadly." Julie leaned forward, spinning on her hand and tripping Mira, quickly pouncing over her to win, before helping her up again. Next, Flynn.

Flynn made the first move, striking near Julie's shoulder, she bolted out of the way, turning to strike back.

"Flynn is catlike when she fights," Julie explained, dodging another blow. "She's light on her feet and quick, with amazing reflexes. However-" she jumped and spun on her hand, tripping Flynn and ending the fight- "it turns out, cats don't always land on their feet." She shot Flynn a wink.

She glanced at Luke, whose cheeks were bright red, but he had a confident smile on his face. Julie grinned.

"Next I'm going to fight with Luke. He's from Tambor, so this will be new." She gestured with a quick nod for him to come over.

As Julie stepped into fighting position, Luke winked. Julie ignored the butterflies in her stomach, overwhelmed with confidence as Luke struck. She dodged and blocked, striking back any chance she had.

Luke was surprisingly competent, but very opportunistic, which Julie took advantage of. As he lost his balance, she spun upside down and tripped him, quickly using her momentum to get on top of him, pinning his hips with her leg. She grabbed his collar and pulled her fist back in a final move, but froze. It was just training, after all.

Now it was Julie's turn to wink, which seemed to fluster Luke even more.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Julie got up, outstretching her hand to Luke. He took her forearm and she took his, pulling him up.

“Nice job!” she told him.

“Oh, please, I just got my ass kicked and you didn’t even break a sweat.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew you were awesome, but I didn’t know you were a human wrecking ball.” Julie flushed, stammering.

“I- well, I don’t-”

“He’s right,” Carrie insisted. You were awesome.” And God, Julie wished Luke hadn’t grinned at Carrie’s agreement, because he had the cutest eyes ever. Honestly, it should’ve been illegal. Her first order of business when she was crowned queen would be to make it illegal to fluster her.

“Okay, trainees,” called Lady Athena. “Pair up and spar. If you want, spot the other and try the move. I’ll be hovering to make sure nobody gets hurt.” She clapped her hands with finality, and the trainees did as they were told. “The rest of you,” she added, directed at Julie and her group, “practice while you can. Oh, Julie, I want you to practice with Luke today. See if you can work out some similarities and differences between Dahlian and Tamborian fighting styles.”

Julie nodded, ignoring the way her heart pounded, ignoring how Luke started fidgeting, and especially ignoring the incredibly annoying looks from Mira, Flynn, Carrie, and Reggie, who had just popped in to join.

Digest those butterflies, Molina. D i g e s t t h e m.

“Alright, boss,” Luke said after a moment. “Ready to kick my ass?” Julie laughed.

“Let’s do it.”

Luke struck first, a playful grin on his face. Julie quickly deflected, twisting his arm and twirling behind him, gently (since it was training, and he was cute) shoving the backs of his knees and pinning him as he fell down, kneeling hunched over with Julie holding his wrists behind his back.

“That’s one for me!” She laughed as he groaned.

“Damn, and to think I ever thought I was good at hand-to-hand,” he said with a grin. Julie blushed and helped him up. “Wait, I want to try that spinny move thing.” Julie stepped back, letting Luke jump onto his hand, but as soon as he spun, he fell.

“Gah, my wrist!” Julie rushed over to where Luke was now sitting, reaching out to help him-

Then, that little shit grinned and grabbed her arm, pulling her down and spinning on top of her, pinning her shoulders.

He shot her a cocky grin. “And that’s one for me.” Julie rolled her eyes, hating the way her heart was fluttering.

“That wouldn’t work in a real fight, you know.” She rolled out from under him, fixing her hair.

“Oh, I know,” he said in a relaxed manner. “It’s just fun to annoy you.” Julie’s stupid heart fluttered again, and she looked away, sure her face was on fire.

“Alright, rematch.” Luke nodded, and Julie hopped into fighting position. Luke did the same, and Julie didn’t hesitate to strike. She moved quickly, remembering her forms and the movements that Lady Athena had drilled into her since she could walk. She spun, aiming for Luke’s shoulder. When he leaned to the side to dodge, she jumped onto her hand, twirling and tripping him-

Or, she tried to.

Luke had completely jumped over her legs, anticipating the move. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, but it caught her off guard. She tried to recompose herself, but Luke was quicker than he looked, and had grabbed her arm, spinning her with her back against his chest and his forearm across her shoulders, pressing tight enough to prove that he’d won, but not as hard as he would’ve if it were a real fight. If it had been real, his arm would’ve been over her throat, anyways. Julie could feel his heartbeat between her shoulder blades, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I win,” he said softly, but Julie could hear the shit-eating grin behind the words. She smirked to herself. No way was she going down that easy.

Before Luke could move, she reached with her arm and grabbed his wrist from its place near her collarbone, bending forwards and throwing him over her shoulder. As his back hit the ground, she spun, pressing her forearm against his shoulders and flattening herself over him so he couldn’t move.

“Actually, I win.”

…

“Okay,” Flynn said after everyone had changed and gathered back in Julie’s room. “If you can’t tell by now that Luke is in love with you, I don’t know what else to do.”

“Flynn. He’s not in love with me, nor am I in love with him.” Flynn, Carrie, and Mira all shared a look and laughed. But before Julie could respond, a knock echoed on her door.

“Come in.” Julie smiled as her dad walked into her room. “Hey dad! Everything okay?” she asked when she noticed the crease between his eyebrows.

“Not exactly.”

“Uh oh,” she replied, standing up.

“We need you in the royal office.” Julie’s stomach dropped. “Your friends can come if they would like,” he added, shooting a kind but worried glance at Flynn, Mira, and Carrie, “but this is a tense situation, and they would be required to keep it all classified.”

“We can do that,” Carrie said, a single crease between her brows. Mira and Flynn nodded. Julie couldn’t shake the nervousness in her stomach.

“Did I do something?”

“No, no, don’t worry, mija. Está bien, it’s nothing that you did. But it’s not good. Just… put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” He turned to walk out the door, but Julie grabbed his sleeve.

“Papá, ¿qué pasó?” Ray sighed.

“Do you remember Caleb Covington? He’s the king of Krypto.”

“Yeah, but it’s been awhile.” Ray sighed again, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

“The kingdom of Krypto has declared war on Dahlia.”

#be who you are (no compromise)#blue writes #bwya tag

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Love Made Me Crazy - 2.

CEO/ Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Part 2 of the Love Made Me Crazy series.

Run-through: It was all strategic; a plan meticulously constructed by you and your business partner; against James Buchanan Barnes. Not to take him down, no. But just to be one step ahead of him in the business world by uncovering his secrets; to learn his ways and hope to be better than him in every way possible. The façade you put up – of being close to him and earning his trust was supposed to be short-lived, most importantly; harmless. But then as always, things got a tad bit more complex when feelings intervened…

Themes throughout the series: ceo!bucky, angst, smut, fluff, manipulative reader, mob!bucky

You were miserable for the first few days after you got home.

But then Tony’s confidence rubbed off on you, and the moment he said, “Remember who you are, kiddo.” You stopped sulking and you were up and ready for work in no time again.

For the next few weeks, you were engrossed in work.

You thought about Bucky from time to time. But each time Tony would come by your office and saw that you were zoning out; he’s say something funny to snap you out of it.

And while Tony never noticed, you were always keeping an eye out for Bucky. You noticed that the news stopped talking about him, so did the magazines. It felt as though he just disappeared out of nowhere.

But you knew, deep within you, that one day he’ll come by.

Little did you know that that day would be just a few months away…

Between travelling with Tony on business trips, making more and more deals and expanding your company and making both your family and Tony proud; you lost track of time. And before you knew it, it was around three months since the last time you spoke to Bucky.

Tony never mentioned him, but Bucky was always there in the back of your mind. Then some more time went on and a certain rumor floated around – about how James Buchanan Barnes morphed into what they called a mob boss. Rumor had it that he was mean and ruthless now. That he dealt with things he didn’t before, and his associates were no longer famous businessmen, but other members of the underworld and the mafia. Some even went to say that he had a gang; a large, armed association who worked for him.

No one knew exactly what he did, or how. All they ever said was that he had turned into a ‘monster’. And people wondered what triggered this sudden switch in his behavior; but you didn’t. You did have an idea of what might have done that.

You looked everywhere, just to feed your curiosity, for more information about him. But never found anything; no pictures, no articles, nothing.

So you gave up.

If he’s a mob boss, with a gang and dealing with stuff which are out of your league – then he surely wouldn’t have time to even think about you. or find you, to extract some stupid revenge.

Right?

---

Wrong.

Almost another month later, while you were trying to shut out any news about Bucky, or what he had become – he managed to find you.

You came home one evening; after – not a bad – but a rather bizarre day. You hadn’t heard from Tony all day. Usually, on days when he can’t drop by your office, he calls. But you heard nothing from his end today. You called him, and texted him, but he replied to nothing.

Upon entering your front yard you realized that your front door was wide open. You looked around and you saw several black SUVs and a little voice in the back of your mind whispered to you;

Well, seems like he found you.

You closed your eyes and sighed. There was no escaping the confrontation. So you put on your serious, mean face and entered your own home with caution.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the living room, with his back to you. This was the first time you were seeing him in six months and he seemed so different. Not even his stance was the same as it used to be.

He heard you step closer and he turned around to face you; with a smug smirk on his face.

“Hello baby.” he said, and you were surprised for a moment.

He was so different. His long hair was gone. His facial hair was somewhat the same – a light stubble as always. The shine in his eyes was no longer there. He looked like his past self, just meaner and more ruthless – like people said he was.

Dark coat, hands in his pockets; he looked powerful. Even more than earlier.

Seeing you weren’t replying, he spoke again. “It took me a month to track you down, you know that.” He said, that smug smirk never leaving his face.

You decided to straighten your back and face him with confidence. “Really? I thought your people would be quicker than that.” You said, carefully hinting that you were aware of who he had become. What he had become.

He scoffed.

“Tony hides you well. I bet you’re his favorite weapon.” He was bitter, and honestly, he had every right to be. You would be too, if you were in his shoes.

You scoffed.

“That I am. Care to tell me why you’re here?” you needed him to get to the point already. This suspense was killing you, and the guilt was too.

His answer was short. “For you.”

You chuckled, throwing your purse on the nearby couch and crossing your arms over your chest and faced him with the same powerful stance he faced you. Neither of you was less than the other; if Bucky was now an infamous, mighty mob boss. Then you were no less; you were the owner of the largest business company at the moment. Hence, this confrontation was a clash of egos more than anything.

“What are you gonna do, kill me because I left you at the altar?” you asked, knowing damn well you were pushing his buttons.

He chuckled, looking down momentarily before he took a few steps forward and looked you in the eyes again.

“No. I’m going to drag you to that same altar again. And you will be mine.” he said and you almost laughed again. “You’re arrogant, and proud. Of what? Your name, your job?” he chuckled again and leaned in closer. “I’m going to take all that away from you.”

One could say he was threatening you, but his eyes told you that he was almost daring you to snap back.

“You know, people did say you were a monster. They never said you were a lunatic as well. But I see it now.” you sassed at him. “Now get your delusional ass out of my house.”

He scoffed.

“I heard you sent your mom on a world tour, correct? And she’s currently in Maldives, is that right? Well then I’m sure neither of you would mind if her little trip is interrupted by a couple of bullets. I don’t know, if she’s not careful, one or two might hit her, don’t you think so baby?” he spoke, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was aware of everything going on in your life right now.

You wanted nothing more than to just punch his pretty face, but you contained yourself. And kept your calm and composure. Being hyper would only show that you were the weak one here.

“So, if I don’t marry you, you will hurt my mom?” you said it as though you found his threat childish and idiotic.

Bucky scoffed. “I never used any of those words. See, all this time and you’re still manipulating me and twisting my words, you-,”

You cut him off.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! What are you gonna do, tie me up and take me with you?” you sounded much more calm than you expected but you were starting to lose your patience.

Bucky looked like he was mocking your state.

“Well, technically I can do whatever I want with you.” He sounded cocky. “You see baby, I just bought your entire company. And you and Stark with it.”

To you, he still sounded like a lunatic.

“That’s impossible.” You shook your head at him, refusing to believe his crap for even a second.

He looked over at you and smirked, then signaled one of his guys to bring you a file of some sort. You hadn’t even realized that you were surrounded by his guards and his people until now.

The man handed you over the papers and you skimmed through and immediately noticed that the papers and signatures were fake. Tony’s signature was on there too, and you got worried.

“Where’s Tony? I swear to God, if you hurt him I-,”

He cut you off.

“Relax babygirl. Tony’s fine, he’s been taken care of.” Bucky sounded like your typical villain.

Now you were really starting to lose it. “This is fake. Everything on this is f-,”

He cut you off again like it was nothing. “Yeah, and? What are you going to do about it?” he shrugged like he hadn’t just ruined everything in your life.

You could tell he didn’t do it for the money, but rather just for the sake of snatching your power away from you.

You were running out of things to say. “You have no right.”

He clenched his jaw and stepped closer to you, almost too close. “And you didn’t have the right to mess with me either. To fuck me over and use me however you wanted. And leave me when your heart desired. But you still did it, didn’t you baby?”

He had refrained himself from saying ‘guess we’re even now.’ But he wasn’t done yet. Oh, he was far from done.

The guilt weighed you down. It hurt. The one thing you did everything for, the business whose responsibility your dad left in your hands, was now gone. It wasn’t even yours anymore. You knew the documents were fake, but you also knew that no one would even dare to oppose James Buchanan Barnes now; they barely did it back then, and now that he had become…this, there was no way you could legally fight him to get back what’s yours.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? Loving and caring for something, doing everything you can for it but then having someone come in and snatch it away from you. It’s killing you, isn’t it?” his taunts hurt like a thousand cuts.

You knew you couldn’t shed a tear and seem hurt or weak in front of him; so you held it all in.

“Why do you want to marry me? You’re taking everything from me already. You’ll never be happy with me.” You sounded calm again, broken this time.

He nodded, agreeing.

“Neither will you. That’s the price I’m willing to pay. You never wanted to be mine, but now you won’t have much of a choice. Your family, your job, your reputation, it’s all under my control now.” he leaned in as to whisper in your ear. “I own all of you, babygirl.” He said, teasing. More like mocking your helplessness.

You glared at him when he pulled away. He had chosen his words right just to trigger a memory – a rather old one…

-flashback-

“I own all of you, babygirl.” Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed every inch of your body while you laid naked in his bed.

You and Bucky were back from a dinner party, and he was being persistent that someone had been flirting with you all night long. So now he was reminding you that you’re only his.

You giggled as his soft lips kissed your neck, while his hands fondled with your breasts. His hair tickled your skin and your giggled turned into a whine as he mercilessly nibbled on your sweet spot; making you arch your back off the surface of the satin sheets of his large bed.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he growled in your ear while you whimpered just at the sound of his voice.

You felt his hand roaming your body, touching you wherever he could; down your sides, your thighs, and dragging his fingers along your legs as you wrapped them around his waist – pulling him closer.

The need to have him was growing deep inside you.

His cologne and his raw smell filled your mind and his beard scratched your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. And you moaned into his mouth as you felt his hand dipped in between your legs – determined to remind you that you belonged to him, and scared that someone might snatch you from his grasp.

He dipped his head down and nuzzled your neck, nibbling on your soft skin and leaving marks behind which would definitely show for the coming few days.

Your back arched off the bed surface and you let out a quiet moan as soon as he found your sweet spot. He left a loving bruise there and went back to kissing your lips.

His body was warm and comforting. You relished his warmth.

He rubbed his knuckles up and down your folds. It was almost embarrassing how quickly your arousal started leaking out of you.

Bucky chuckled as his fingers spread your wetness around and dipped his head into the crook of your neck again. He kissed your skin all the way till he reached your breasts; and took one of them in his mouth.

His tongue toyed with the bud while his fingers slipped past your entrance.

You rolled your hips against his hand and moaned when he curled his fingers inside you. He pumped his two fingers in and out of you while his mouth teased your sensitive bud. Bucky kissed down your body and soon, his face was in between your legs.

You supported yourself up with your elbows as you watched his actions intently. He didn’t break eye contact as he brought his face closer and closer to your dripping core. You let out a quiet moan when you felt his lips on your sensitive spot. His hands wrapped around your thighs as he angled your body better and slipped his tongue past your wet folds, poking your entrance lazily.

The tip of his tongue circled around your clit and your body shuddered under him. Your elbows couldn’t hold you up anymore so you let go and fell back on the bed.

Your hands found their way into his soft hair again and you tugged on it as his beard scratched the skin around your core. In that moment, you were undoubtedly under his control. And you shamelessly loved each second of it.

He devoured you passionately, and the wet sounds erupting from his actions were downright obscene – and didn’t affect him in the least. Instead, each sound which slipped out of your mouth only intensified the fire he felt within.

With a couple more strokes from his tongue, your legs began trembling against him. Your grip on his hair got a little tighter and your moans were much more audible as you came all over his tongue. He lapped up all that you gave him and kissed his way up your body again.

“You belong to me.” He mumbled against your lips before he leaned in and kissed you deeply again.

-end of flashback-

You could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking about the same thing as you. Judging by the smirk on his face, you could tell that he wanted you to think of that exact moment.

Despite the uncountable amount of things that were wrong with this situation, you couldn’t help but feel as though the Bucky you had betrayed was still in there somewhere, hiding behind the façade of the big bad mob boss. And you wanted to apologize, but then the smirk on his face ruined the moment.

“Seems like I triggered a memory. Was it a good one?” he teased. And you rolled your eyes at him, whispering swear words under your breath.

He chuckled. “Pack your bags, I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.” He spoke and started walking away but then halted and turned around again. “And don’t even think about running, my guys will be outside, keeping an eye on you.” he finally turned around to walk away. “See you tomorrow babygirl.” He added.

You scoffed and swore under your breath again. “You’re crazy you know that?” you yelled after him.

And you heard him chuckle again as he approached the front door. He turned to look at you, a smug smirk on his face which hid all the pain perfectly.

“You made me crazy.” He spat bitterly. And with that said, with a straight face and no emotion, he walked away and slammed the door shut behind him.

---

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snacc-noir · 4 years

Text

Unseal and Reveal pt2

Ao3

Part 1

Adapted from this post

Summary:

Adrien asks Marinette to fake date him after his father finds a pink ‘love note’ containing just her name on it

— but it was really the emergency note Ladybug gave him in case he needed to know her identity

Adrien has screwed up.

But before anything begins, he’d like to make it very clear that he’s only ever had good intentions, believable smiles, and incredible lying ability – no matter what his friends say (“You once told Alya you had a great dentist so Marinette wouldn’t be suspicious”), because he’s kept the fact he’s Chat Noir under wraps and no one has been the wiser.

Then again, Chat Noir is stylish, handsome, incredibly dressed, insanely hilarious, im(pecc)ably ripped, totally—

Yeah, so Adrien just can’t live up to that (If it came down to it, he’d totally fall in love with himself if circumstances allowed.), and thus his identity is pretty secure , unlike his self-esteem on a good day.

Specifically, today.

Because he has screwed up.

So yes, he’s somehow the best and worst liar ever, which probably likens to how it isn’t his secret identity that he Accidentally (three underlines for ‘accidentally’) reveals, but, uh, someone else’s.

Ladybug’s.

He knows Ladybug’s identity.

But hey! Hey— remember, her idea. It was never him who suggested the ‘let’s write our names on letters in case we need to know in an emergency’, as that was definitely her.

He’s screwed everything up, but it was definitely her.

“Did you know? ”

“Duh,” his kwami’s gravel voice says, “I know everything.”

Adrien’s hands are rousing his hair so much at this point he might expose himself as Chat Noir if anyone went by his lean windows. “You knew this whole time!? That Ladybug is– That she’s– That—”

All air escapes him in a corrupt elongated syllable. He flops on his Extra King size bed with silk sheets and fluffed pillows, almost knocking his model agency’s branded hydro-flask onto the desk adjacent with three exorbitant monitor screens. Oh, how difficult his life is.

“You’re so pathetic.”

He is.

“This is hilarious.”

It is not.

‘“What am I supposed to do, Plagg?! Call her? ‘Hey love of my life, it’s me Adrien, but you also know me as Chat Noir. I accidentally found out your identity and long story short, my household thinks we’re dating and wants you over for dinner. Are you up for fake-dating and not killing me, please?”

His kwami skulls a camembert roll. “I’m down for that idea.”

Adrien pegs a sock.

“How are you so calm?”

“I shrugged in the face of dinosaur extinction. Your damsel in distress crisis – you’re the damsel, by the way – and ‘oohhh no, I’m so in love’ hullabaloo is nothing.”

Adrien’s frown deepens. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You do. Your voice goes like eee .”

“What? No it doesn’t”

“You’re right, it’s more like ahhh . ”

The heat in Adrien’s acid eyes smarten. He crosses his arms, huffing in a way he hasn’t since early childhood, and glares at his ceiling. “I’m done talking to you.”

He isn’t, of course, as there’s only one person in his life he can complain to about his array of #RelatableTeenBoy issues, like ditching your favourite topic of Physics one class to cater to a Giant Baby akuma (again) and being late due to lack of places to change into your skin-tight cat suit (you know; just those little things). And by Hawk Moth’s insufferable menacing he isn’t letting that outlet fall from under him. He needs to clear his thoughts, because believe him, there is a lot to sift, and it doesn’t help when part of this whole catastrophe has left him with the knowledge that—

“Marinette is Ladybug!”

Plagg has moved to Adrien’s three-panelled computer desk and is clicking through something. “I’m so glad you’ve caught up.”

“And if she’s Ladybug, that means,” he goes on, white overshirt sleeves now uneven as he animates his words with a pillow, “she was just saying to me – to Chat – she was in love with him to save her identity! And there’s another boy she’s in love with! And–! And I might know who it is!”

“Who?” Plagg asks, the volume juxtaposing his welder’s.

“I said 'might’.”

The keys click louder. “You mean because you know Ladybug in real life you could have met him before? Or you actually know him?”

“I don’t know! I just know that Marinette’s… She’s in love with another guy.” The earlier exhilaration drains and his chest feels hollow and soul-sucking. “Wait– I can’t ask her to be my fake-girlfriend!”

The destructive god scrolls through the itemised shopping cart to double-check his fromage orders without any fear of his owner noticing. Well you obviously don’t have a choice. Your dad wants her over for dinner. Besides, it’s Ladybug, remember? She’ll do anything to help a friend out.”

Ladybug.

Marinette.

Of course.

There are still many things that don’t add up (Multimouse: just how?) but of course.

He can’t risk his own identity and hers to his father. He must keep the façade up. And if that mean s falling on his knees in front of who unarguably should be the most glorified woman in the world, crying to her to please just be his fake – very much, but unfortunately fake – girlfriend.

He will.

He’ll do it right now.

“I can’t believe you chickened out.”

Walks to school, even with the cost of waking up earlier, are always more refreshing than drives in cold silence. The freedom here is less pale, and he can hiss at Plagg all he wants with only the dignity loss of onlookers noticing him crankily talking to himself.

“Oh wait, yes I can. Because you’re a coward~. ”

“I did not ‘chicken out’,” Adrien snaps. “And I’m no coward. I just— I need to speak to her in person instead. This way, she didn’t have to receive an unwanted call so late.”

“You mean six?”

He huffs. “Marinette needs all the sleep she can get.” He pokes the creature back into his overshirt. “She’s always so busy. Even you’ve seen her collapse in class. Wait—!”

The only one that waits is himself, columned with the line of trees ahead, locked in the interval of his soap opera as his audience darts for a shiny rock near a fire hydrant.

“Because she’s Ladybug too! Of course! Of course! This makes so much sense! She’s so tired and overworked! It’s no wonder she’s all over the place – in the best of ways, I mean, she’s literally adorable when she’s frantic. Wait, have I always thought that? Have I always seen Marinette as the cutest thing ever? Her spluttering is so endearing. And if she’s already so tired, I can’t make her fake date me, too! She’s already so stressed! I’d literally be the scum of the earth if I even dare—”

Plagg is staring at him with flat interest. Humbly aware of his judgement, Adrien swallows, letting the air untense and clams his hands – eager to narrate his animated allegory – in his pockets in strife to get a grip.

He sighs.

“What if I mess it up, Plagg?”

He inventories his new rock in Adrien’s satchel. A hymn of silence roots in the place of what should be a snide remark. But there is no fed-up comment, just a kwami wriggling under his overshirt out of sight and a solemn voice that issues from it,

“Kid, you’re partners. You work together. You forgive each other. You trust each other. And if Ladybug trusts you,” he sticks his head out a little more, “find it in you to trust yourself. You won’t mess this up if you put her and her identity’s safety first, which I know you will, because you love her and you’re a great hero.”

Adrenaline dampening, Adrien smiles.

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Marinette has never believed in bad luck until she met Chat Noir (fifty Mr Pigeon akumatisations this year with a feather allergy? The next lucky charm is going to be an Epi-pen) and for a while, she didn’t believe in good luck, even with being Ladybug.

But that was then. Back then, meaning like, ten minutes ago before she was invited to stay back after PE by Adrien.

Right now, though? Right now, she’s decided she’s going to hand-sew a bedazzled shirt embossed with, “Goddess of Luck” to wear while Ladybug on patrol (and on the back, a quote she woke up to on Instagram this morning: ‘“can also kick ass” – Adrien Agreste’ (she took ten screenshots when he posted that)), because Marinette has good luck.

“You’ll be doing me a huge favour,” the ass-kicking quoter says on an afternoon she has not planned to receive the most exciting request of her life.

And you know what she says?

You know what the stuttering girl who may as well trademark the word ‘GAH’ she falls that much, says?

You’ll never guess.

No really, you won’t.

Because turns out, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than just accomplished.

So what if she thrones the winning title of a Gabriel fashion comp? What even matters of being class president and an all-around likable person? Who takes notice of another fashion mogul inviting you to live in New York because of your talent? ––An invitation you had to decline because, you know, being Paris’ zero-pay superheroine has a sprinkle more of importance. And oh, did she mention she’s Ladybug? Because she’s Ladybug. A superhero.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’d be happy to help.”

Because she’s said yes.

She—Marinette McStutter Dupain-Cheng—has said yes with her mouth (not vague hand animations over blubbering nonsense) to Adrien, and although her muscles are locked with their key over the Eiffel tower (and the tiny detail that her thoughts are screaming so much she can’t hear a thing of his relief and numerous ‘thank you’s), she’s still said yes!

Screw every other accomplishment. She’s said yes to being Adrien’s fake girlfriend.

Ladybug? Nah, that’s Mrs. Fake Agreste to you.

Good luck is real.

Okay but sure, ‘Fake girlfriend’ doesn’t exactly live up to ‘Very real girlfriend’, but being a fake isn’t that bad! She’s seen Lila do it every day for months – oh, hang on, no actually the term ‘fake’ has very negative and huge implications, then. However, in Marinette’s heavenly-blessed case, ‘fake’ means she’s doing a very big favour for a friend and is going to get more time with Adrien – just to name a few positives.

“Seriously Marinette, you have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.”

‘Oh honey, I’m the lucky one. ’

“It’s– It’s no problem! Yeah! Really, I’ll come to dinner, no problem! It can’t be too hard. I can be your girlfriend! Eugh– Pretend girlfriend. It’s not hard being in love with you! I mean– Ugh!”

The monstrosity that is the never-shutting-up hole in her face is blocked off by frantic hands, stifling the last of her eloquent groan. But peering up, she realises she really has underestimated how much this means to Adrien, because he looks like he’s poised on a cliff of ecstasy ready to fall – eyes verdant, big, and lushed over with a hue of moisture that twinkles, and a smile so bright and toothy the sunlight hollowing out the remaining shade of the PE stadium glints off it.

In fact, her mess of a speech is such a compliment to Adrien that her locked-limbed body is suddenly engulfed by his. Startled in delightful senses of the word, she squeaks, and he quickly pulls away, face a few rose tones darker than before as his hands twitch at his side unsurely.

“Uhh, I guess we have to get planning.”

She watches in transfixed attraction as Adrien picks both their schoolbags up, finally blurting (without any squeak, she may add),

“Y–Yes. We do.”

(she didn’t say any stutter, so shut up.)

“Would your father let you come over right now since school’s almost finished?”

He casts a look to the exit thoughtfully. His flawless side-profile in high resolution before her, she sees the corner of his mouth quirk up in an unsettling familiar way, as if his whole charisma shifts to someone else’s.

They do need to plan; to run away together, where only they share this odd secret - a place alone together where they'll look each other eye-to-eye and practice their sonnets of love to construct a believable facade for his father-

“It’s more fun sneaking to my girlfriend’s house, isn’t it?”

That time, she squeaks.

And comes to the daunting realisation:

Marinette is screwed.

#I’ll add the @s in the replies cos I know people wanted a part 2 #it took me YONKS to effectively post this #also thanks again to the person who created the idea to let me do this #it’s kinda steered from the envelop theme and a full-fledged fake dating au I guess #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #adrienette #adrinette #identity reveal #original content #em writes

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princesspiratecat · 3 years

Photo

The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 23: Spring, 1083

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22

After the night of the disastrous dinner with the Merchants, the weather turned gloomy again, and it was just as well. Since Frances had been trapped inside in any case, he didn’t care about the fine weather, or lack thereof. In fact, he didn’t care about anything anymore, and the things that once gave him pleasure such as riding, fishing, and camping out under the stars felt empty and meaningless to him now.

He had finally finished his studies, but only just. And now that they were done, there was little for him to do and nothing for him to look forward to. The mornings were spent laying in bed, and the afternoons were spent milling about the estate. His father now completely ignored him even more so than he had before. The rest of his family let him do as he would. He ignored them all, for the most part.

At night when the great hall was quiet, he would go down and play melancholy songs on his lute, which he was getting quite good at, truth be told. He would open a bottle of his father’s wine or mead, and drink himself numb until he couldn’t feel his fingers, which helped him play better. When the sky began to brighten with the dawn, he would finally retire. When he awoke with a headache, he would lounge in bed all day until the night came. Then he would do it all over again.

One particularly gloomy night, Frédérique came down to the main hall at a late hour and interrupted his playing. He had been drinking the last of the Burgundy wine and remembering Gwendolyn’s kisses, so the sight of her was enough to bring him out of his musing. He could tell by the look on her face that she was going to say something he’d rather not hear, as she often did. She was always so serious and always wanted to talk. He hated the way she knew him sometimes better than he seemed to know himself, so he rudely closed his eyes and continued playing, hoping she would leave him be.

“How long will you continue on this way?” He had no idea of how to answer her. “Do you think this is what Gwendolyn would have wanted? How do you think our mother would feel if she could see you now?”

At the mention of his mother’s name, he suddenly had no interest in playing anymore, and put the lute away, but said nothing. He didn’t want to think about her, as he missed her more than he say, and he had tired of crying. He had already cried his fill a hundred times over.

Suddenly she walked over to him and said in the most tender voice, “Will you not speak to me?”

Sometimes she sounded exactly like his mother, especially when she was trying to be kind. The way she pronounced particular words and emphasized certain phrases was just like her. Still, he said nothing and began to walk away, but she would speak still.

“I miss her too, more than anything. Yet unlike you, I try to make her proud of me, even if I cannot see her anymore. I try to remember how kind she was, how generous she was, and how lucky I am to have been her daughter. I’m still trying to be the woman she wanted me to be. Won’t you try to do the same and be the man she wanted you to grow into?”

He stopped walking, and with his back towards her, he was able to answer honestly. “I don’t know how.”

She had disarmed him by speaking so eloquently about their mother, and he could feel tears well up in his eyes. Then she walked up to him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. She whispered into his ear, “I know you can do better than this. Don’t let him break you anymore than he already has. This family needs you. She needs you.”

Whether Frédérique was talking about Gwendolyn, or Francine, or his mother, he did not know. But he figured it could be true about all of them. “I won’t be here for much longer to keep this family going. It will be up to you to do so once I am gone.”

“I don’t know how to live with him anymore. He doesn’t trust me, and he doesn’t want me here. I cannot fight him anymore. I am spent.”

“So don’t. Stop trying to please him, and find your own path.”

He didn’t know what his own path looked like, or even what shape he wanted it to take. But he was too tired to look for answers just now, so he left her and crawled into bed. He was determined to forget everything she had said, but could not, and fell into a restless sleep with her words still on his mind.

However broken Frances seemed to be, others would not be persuaded so easily by Marcelle to give up on their friends. Francine had made good on her word and had obtained the newest letter from Gwyn. Did it matter that she also took the opportunity to speak with a certain golden haired boy whilst carrying out this task? No one can say. But she had done her duty, and would do it again and again.

“I got lucky this time,” Oswin had told her with a serious demeanor. “My mother told me that Gwyn has actually gone to see her sister in a village some distance from here. So I went and searched her room when she was occupied, and found this under her mattress, which is where she usually keeps my letters until she can read them. I hope you don’t mind that I read the map that fell out of it. I have made a copy, just in case we may need it.” He held out the letter to her, and the map it had contained.

“Oh, Oswin! I am so grateful! Gwyn has gone to see her you say?! And a map?! That is the best news I could have hoped for!”

But he did not share her joy, and suddenly there was a touch of sadness that clouded his eye as he said, “None of this would have happened if she had married my brother. None of it. She ought to have stayed with us from the beginning. But nevertheless, she did not deserve the treatment she has received from your father. He swore to protect her, not send her away from the only family she has left!”

His words panged her heart, as she knew it all too well. Her father had caused so much pain and suffering by his selfish actions, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. She had felt she didn’t know him anymore ever since their mother had died. She resented him for leaving them all alone to suffer in silence, and for bringing Edyth into the house to spy on them.

“I know. That is why I am here...to try and offer a remedy for my friend, and my brother.”

“I hope he goes to her,” he said bitterly. “Because if he does not, then my brother will.”

At that, Francine said her goodbyes and hurriedly walked home. She hastily read the letter and handed the map over to Frances. Curiously, she recognized the handwriting on the map to be that of her father’s, and was surprised to learn that it was he who had drawn it.

She told him everything when she handed it to him- that Gwendolyn was living on the outskirts of a tiny village far from their estate, and that Gwyn had gotten permission from Marcelle to visit her. She also told him what Oswin had said about his brother, but Frances was too full of hope to hear that part of it.

“Where is the other map father keeps? I must compare the two!” Without waiting for a response, he immediately ran to the library. He rummaged through his father’s papers and scrolls until he found what he was looking for- a professionally made map ordered by the King, which showed the area along the Humber River and all of the tiny holdings and villages surrounding it. He carefully compared the two, and estimated that it would take him just over five hours to reach her on horseback....maybe six. He hoped that if he left at night, it would be some time before his father found out he had gone.

Finally.

That night, after he had changed into a fresh pair of clothing, he took a long look at himself in the mirror.

What exactly had Gwendolyn seen in him? Did she love him because he was an heir? Or had being an heir made him easier to love? Would she accept him if his father cut him off entirely, as he had threatened to do?

Maybe she loved you because you gave her the very best of yourself.

And that was true. He had given her all he had had to offer, and shared with her everything in his heart. He gave her his true self that so few got to see, and she had given it all right back to him.

Can you live without her? Yes. But I would rather not.

He knew that if he didn’t go, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He had made her a promise, and he needed to keep it. His sister had been right. He wasn’t living up to anyone’s expectations- not even his own expectations of himself. And now that he could fulfill his promise to her, he must. He didn’t want to be like his father, and he didn’t want to be full of regret.

This was the path he would take.

If only she will still have me.

The hour was late and the cover of darkness was a welcome shield as he quietly walked out to the stables where he had hidden away his saddle bags and made ready his horse. He lead his stallion away from the estate and walked as silently as he could, until he was sure to be out of earshot.

It was numbingly cold, but so much was on his mind that the journey seemed to glide by steadily. By the time the sun came up he was already halfway there. It took him another three hours to arrive to the location on the map, which he assumed was some sort of Boarding House or Inn. While he rested and fed his horse, the biting cold began to numb him and he knew that he must press on.

For awhile, he thought he may be lost, because all he could see was a tiny ramshackle hutch in between a meadow and woods filled with birch. It seemed to be abandoned, but as he journeyed closer, he could see the roof was smoking and he could smell a hint of cooked meat in the air. Could this be where she was? Perhaps whomever was inside could direct him.

He trotted his horse closer now, and suddenly he was outside the fence, looking at a woman with dark hair and pretty face.

Gwendolyn.

She looked differently then he had remembered her. Thinner, but somehow more womanly. He whispered her name and she was looking straight at him. He could see the shock on her face, and his pulse quickened.

“Gwendolyn! Gwendolyn.....”

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 pictures #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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inventors-fair · 3 years

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Two guilds, one cause group commentary

Super sorry for being super super late. Here’s the commentary about the guild colab cards.

@dumbellsndragons First of quite a lot split/aftermath cards for this contest! I was quite surprised! Beast is not much but it’s an honest spell. The real deal is Breakfast! It essentially doubles the power of your board, by splitting it to 2/2 bodies that can in turn trigger various etb effects. Temporary buffs, (bloodrush anyone?) can play a huge roll on how many tokens you can make!

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes Misjudged this one, took it for an Izzet Simic spell, while it’s actually an Izzet Gruul one that plays into the destroy to create mentality of the two guilds. While witty and creative, this spell feels a little too specific. It definitely has a fun side but I fear people would use it more as a combo piece.

@abzanhero Sel-gari was a very popular combination and Rotweaver is a very nice example on how those two guilds could interact. It fills the graveyard, cares about the graveyard and has the potential to make HUGE tokens for you to populate. All that in the expense of immediate impact on the board, but I asked for kitchen table EDH cards, and this fits the category very well.

@helloijustreadyourpost I love the throwback to popular EDH cards like Savra and the first print of Teysa that care about the color of creatures you control. That said, I am not a fun of the limitations on the card, as I view more like a Yu-gi-oh design than an mtg card, where usually the only limitation is the cost of the card.

@bioodprice Great control card but the two triggers feel conflicted as the one taps a creature, and the other punishes the players for having untapped creatures. Either way, it has good pillowfort potential as it can hinder both voltron strategies and punish token based decks.

@dimestoretajic Great tempo card, would do wonders in limited enviroments. Lorewise, it’s sad to see that guilds consume their messengers. If this trend continues, Vivien will surely pay Ravnica a visit XD

@ghoulcaclulator64 First of all, congratulations for going the extra mile and made your own artwork for the card! It’s really cool!

On to the ability of the card, its very well stated and it has great combo potential with all the copy effects of blue and red that can help you create an army of deadly blasters. I am not sure whether you wanted the trigger to work with spells any player controls or not, but all in all I find Whip-Walker an interesting design!

@kytheon4-4 Great flavor text that fits the theme of the design challenge 150%! Also a quite impactful card on a tri colored creature deck of all shapes and sizes. If mentor returns, it could definitely appear on Green creatures, or creatures of any color, like Exalted

@hypexion When you’re a Gorgon with a Biology major, there’s no need to stay in the undercity XD In general I like the use of ability counters, and this applies here as well. The +1/+1 counter would serve as a reminder for the deathtouch counter, though I must complain that Mila herself doesn’t have deathtouch but has to work for it like a guildless peasant.

@yourrightfulking For GGUURR you get two cards and at least a 2/2 body plus 2 damage wherever you want. This is an insanely good deal, and this being an instant means that you can also mess up combat big time. I wouldn’t call the card broken in any way but I feel there should be some moderation, maybe the damage affect players and planeswalkers? But that’s me nitpicking, all in all pursuit of perfection was a very nice entry for the contest.

@nine-effing-hells In a similar vein, from a mechanical standpoint, chorus of battle offers +4/+4 , with the additional trample and lifelink. Comparison with Titanic Ultimatum is inevitable, and it offers a lot more for an additional mana. I think here it should be safer if the play was asked to offer a single R and W to get the bonus and not the double colors which add a lot of weight to the card without clear benefit.

@misterstingyjack The design challenge was meant for you to design tri colored cards. There were a few color matters submissions, but this is the best “rulebreaker” and who’s a better rulebreaker than a goblin gang that pays homage to Shattergang Brothers A really cute card whose effects are relevant in an EDH game, especially the green one. Death to the mana rocks!

@grornt Great revisiting of Graft and I love the fact that with haste, the total damage you can do to the opponent doesn’t change as you pass around your counters! Interestingly, Riot and Bloodthirst also operate with +1/+1 counters so this beasty truly unites Simic and Gruul!

@hiygamer If there’s one thing “cannon” in this challenge, it’s that the Selesnya and the Golgari will rebuild Vitu-Ghazi! The abilities and the overall flavor of the card are super sweet, but I think we should be wary of lands with the potential to generate tons of mana. For example, as much as I love symmetry in design, the graveyard matters part of the card shouldn’t be on equal ground with the other ability as it’s easier to produce more mana with mill shenanigans.

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion This pricey enchantment is so splashy, Kiora would probably try to steal it. Good thing you considered planewalkers on the second ability, because then you would have certainly crossed the line. I don’t know what kind of deck is the true home for this card, but even one turn with this card on the battlefield will decide the course of the game.

@dabudder For 2WUG, you get a 5/5 flyer and you draw one card. It’s not much, in EDH at least, but it’s definitely an honest play. Again, the fate of Vitu-Ghazi is on the spotlight, and here we see the Azorius care about it! Who knew Ravnicans love Selesnya that much?

@koth-of-the-hammerpants Scavenge 6 for merely two mana is a tremendous deal. The Second activated ability takes an A for creativity and flavor, as we see the pinnacle of recycling in this combined Simic Golgari project. I feel a few balance tweaks are required here and there but the idea of a creature “reforming” itself through +1/+1 counters is damn cool.

@narkis24 Puns and memes are always appreciated but the abilities, while interesting, they have me wondering whether this is too oppressive for your opponent. The free treasure token every now and then is pretty innocent and it may be the token of an unofficial alliance made on the kitchen table. However, the potential of multiple counterspells with little investment seems a bit scary. I would rather it somehow required self sacrifice in the ability so people don’t gang up on you.

@thedirtside I love the name and its connection with the bouncing nature of the card. While overall this spell feels weak or requires a lot of mana, I feel there are decks out there that would appreciate the utility this card offers.

@bread-into-toast Selesnya and Orzhov is a wild combination from every perspective but as the flavor text suggests, all woodshapers are welcome XD

The 5 toughness guarantees that you will make a good number of tokens before this thrull enters the soil, and it might deter a couple attacks while on the battlefield because it can potentially make 10 or more tokens with a good block. An Abzan token deck will have dozens of ways to utilize this small army, and the deat trigger gives you yet another one if there are not any available at that time. All in all, a stellar design. I didn’t do a runners up post this time, but this could be easily included.

@gollumni A solid utility 4 drop that shines more at late game than on curve because as the challenge suggests we’re playing kitchen table edh. For the full colored cost you disable three potential blockers. I love the tiny detail that unlike other creatures in the original ravnica that cared about different colors of mana when you cast them, Enlisted Banisher represents all three colors for the sake of devotion and color matters cards, like the beloved Knight of New Alara.

@shakeszx A very unique design that encourages different tribal strategies in an attempt to unite everything under its glorious pincers during combat. I feel a deck with Gedj as a commander would be both fun and challenging to build. I suppose it would contain a lot of Slivers and Allies. If anybody makes this deck please let us know!

@wolkemesser A wild project uniting Gruul and Izzet. This is probably the most intricate design I’ve seen in a while, utilizing XYZ, three colors, two kinds of tokens. But what about the kitchen table? The options this card offers are insanely good, so much that I think it’s undercosted. The red ability, essentially lets you save up mana, and treasures can also help you generate mana for the other two options of the card.

And while the power level is definitely high, I have to commend you for considering when the player is allowed to do these crazy mana sink shenanigans. Having a specific time window is important and setting it on main phase 2 means that you give both yourself and you opponents time to figure things out.

@teaxch Excellent build around potential and I like that the optional copying trigger as you can utilize a deck with both buffs and single target removals. The spiciest thing about this card is that it has the highest cannon potential because actually Izzet and Boros collaborate to create advanced soldiers. It’s Captain Amrica all over again :P They even got the right colors

@masternexeon I love the irony of a card that obstructs your opponents playing cards during your turn has flash itself. It’s a real solid hate bear. The haste hating is more of a trinket text than a relevant ability, but it’s better to have a rare ability than not having it.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff I don’t know why this doesn’t have a straightforward adapt X ability, let’s move past that. Any numbers of counters are always welcome, but in this design it’s easier to get a good amount of counters early game, for example going for 4 on turn 4 is a really nice play and you can swing for 7, which will have a long and memorable impact on the kitchen table. On the other hand, if you topdeck this late game, there’s a chance you won’t be able to pay 11 for the 11 creatures you might have in the graveyard.

@davriel-canes-tea-supplier Another aftermath card. You surprised me there! Get down is a slightly more expensive freeze two spell, but that’s customary for dual purpose cards like this. On to business, we got a selective wrath effect. It’s more disruptive than an actual sweeper because odds are the opponent sees it coming (except if you discard it on purpose to head straight to business) Overall I feel the whole card could be a bit cheaper but I appreciate the impact it can have in the game, and it also helps me create an image of the Ravnican lobby that’s in the hands of Orzhov with the assistance of the Azorius

@reaperfromtheabyss Ending, with a flashy comeback of Fuse! Both halves are great cards in their own right, Body is a tad better than life’s legacy because it also gives life at the price of one black mana instead of any mana, and Soul can produce a respectable amount of flying tokens while wiping a player’s graveyard. The combined effect isn’t as explosive as other fuse spells, but the utility it offers is much appreciated. And while the card frame for fuse isn’t flavor text friendly, I really like the story it tells, about how the two guilds care about death and how they utilize it for their advantage.

#Two guilds one cause #mtg #magic the gathering #custom Magic card #Ravnica #group commentary

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

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Deja vu pt4

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! Who’s ready for 19 pages of Remus angst? If you’re new around [Here] is the first part, and [Here] is the previous chapter for those who want a refresher!

(To that one person who asked if Remus’s vision would get any clearer: I am so sorry.)

Summary: Remus has been able to see the future since he was eight years old. He thinks that maybe his mother would have loved him a bit more if he hadn’t. (aka, Remus calls home.)

Words: 7879

TW: attempted suicide, blood, death, bad parenting

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

By the time he’s twenty one and four months, Remus is no stranger to cross country traveling. He’s been all over the country, all over the back roads, the main roads, the highways and the interstates. He’s had paper maps from greasy gas stations stuffed in his go-bag since he was eighteen, and keeps souvenirs of his travels in the form of pins and buttons he’s clipped on the shoulder strap.

He had made it a habit to never travel with a plan. He had chosen directions on a whim, following signs when he felt the need to sleep somewhere, and picked up cars from dealerships when he had been too lazy to use his casino-breaking powers to get the cash to pay for it legally.

Travelling is something Remus has always been familiar with. The freeing feeling of pressing his foot to the floor and blowing through endless cornfields, of burning more gas than strictly necessary, of getting himself lost on backroads without cell service-- He loves driving with the windows down and the long distances. During the billions of times that he had slept in whatever car he was using, he had enjoyed climbing on the hood and staring up at the stars until sleep dragged him away again.

Travelling with Dee, however, is something else entirely.

At first it had been different just because there were two of them: the presence of another person made him feel the need to talk to fill the silence, made him actually have to answer the “where are we going” question, made him unsure of if what he was doing was the right thing to do.

(Not the morally right thing-- no that he knew the answer of. He meant the right thing as in the thing that Dee wanted him to do. He imagined in those first few weeks he acted a lot like a pet dog, always checking back to Dee to see that he was doing good, and wagging his metaphorical tail whenever the Shapeshifter gave him that delicious validation.)

Travelling with Dee almost means the death of sleeping in the car they were using. The Shapeshifter believes him when he says that they aren’t gonna be attacked in the night or the police aren’t going to come knocking on their windows, but Dee, as much as he tries to pretend he’s new to riches and money, is a fucking elitist.

“Why sleep in the backseat when there is a hotel with a bed and breakfast right there?” He used to ask, sometimes still asks, never needs to ask anymore. “Why act like a ruffian without a home when I can live like a king?”

And, well, Remus had looked into his eyes for too long and gotten lost in the depths of them. Dee was pretty, you see? And Remus’s stubbornness was a learned trick that Dee knew how to circumnavigate.

Travelling with Dee means hotels with beds and fake names in a log book. It means showers with mini bottles of shampoo and crisp covers freshly cleaned and watching the stars from the balconies while Dee smelled his money (again). It means complimentary breakfasts that aren’t super great, but they’re something that Remus hadn’t had in a while and sharing a room with another person who didn’t trust him not to run off with all their money, counting the near silent inhales and exhales, and trying not to think about stupid things like “family vacations” or “Just share the bed, Roman, its one night!”

It means no more stealing cars, because Dee rations out and puts aside money in the most atrocious order-- something that he won’t describe to Remus beyond “you’re cute, but not that cute” no matter how many times Remus asks, or when he asks. Somehow he always has the money for a new car and food and a hotel room and anything else they saw and wanted for whatever reason.

(“Not that one,” Remus had said, grabbing Dee’s arm before he could even look in the direction of the car in the lot. And Dee blinked but didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t pick out any other silver sedans and Remus managed to make it all the way to the bathroom before vomiting his guts up. Funny, isn’t it? That he can still see blood on a bumper and hear the screams of ambulance sirens thirteen fucking years later?)

Some things are the same, though.

Remus takes note of them as he drives calmly through the evening, like he used to in the four years where he had between running away from everything he’d known and running into Dee’s arms. The air still feels nice with the windows down, his eyes still burn when the opposite traffic forgets to turn off their high beams, the radio is still soft and soothing and plays along to his heartbeat. Dee’s still curled up in the passenger side seat, wearing a fresh pastel peach button up tucked into black dress pants and dress shoes bought straight from the rack.

He’s still cute like this, vulnerable, with scales on display and his seatbelt imprinting a line on his opposite cheek. There’s a duffel bag of stolen money at his feet, all counted and tagged in his pocket notebook that he never lets Remus flip through. In the backseat are two more duffel bags with just Remus’s atrocious half of the money and another couple of suitcases that contain their material possessions.

Something stirs in Remus’s gut at the sound of Dee’s soft snores. He really is asleep, really does trust Remus not to drive them into a guard rail or off a cliff or into another car. He really trusts that Remus hasn’t been hiding a switchblade in his sleeve, just waiting for the right moment to plunge it into Dee’s throat before making an abstract art masterpiece out of his blood. He really trusts Remus not to park somewhere on the shoulder and take all the money they have between them and disappear in the night without a trace.

He trusts Remus.

And he doesn’t have a clue how much that means.

Well, maybe he’s guessed a little. After all, Remus still gets that surprised look on his face when Dee actually listens to him, still finds himself rolling that purple coin from the Basilisk Casino that he’s kept, still gets a little shaky when he tells certain futures because this is it, this is gonna be the time where Dee says he’s stupid and crazy and dumb and he’s not gonna listen--

Trust was a hard thing to come by after Remus turned eight. How can you trust the crybaby that starts sobbing every time someone gets a little scratch? How can you trust the psycho kid who needs medication to go to school? How can you trust Roman’s Weirdo Brother when he says he can see the future like some sideshow circus attraction?

But Dee trusts him enough to keep travelling with him, enough to keep robbing banks with him, enough to let down his glamour and show his real self while he’s sleeping.

It's all well and good and fine.

Remus wishes he trusted himself the way Dee trusts him.

The music playing is still something that Dee had picked out hours before, classical and Remus doesn’t hate it necessarily, but he did turn it down so slow that the engine is louder than those stupid violins. Remus has an appreciation for people who find the screeching strings pleasant rather than just annoying, he swears. But the rumbling of the engine, the bump of every uneven bit of road, the slow winding turns is a familiar comforting melody.

Home, Remus knows, is more of the road than any building he’s ever been in. It’s more of the feeling of Dee’s hand in his over the console, more of the smell of pine tree air fresheners mixed with new car, than any concrete solid place he’s ever been.

Which is silly, maybe. Remus thinks if he squeezes his eyes closed really hard he can still picture the layout of the house he and Roman lived in. (Not “home”, not “the place he grew up in” and he definitely didn’t grow up in there-- because it wasn’t until he was seventeen and sleeping in gas station bathrooms in two hour spurts that he learned how the world really was.)

His mother really tried, Remus thinks. She really tried to be a good person, a good mother, a good role model. She made sure they cleaned their rooms and taught them how to do the laundry. She made sure he brushed his teeth and was fed and healthy and smil--

Listen when he--

Helped him take his med--

She tried, okay. Remus thinks that if he had been a normal child he might have grown up happy. He thinks that if she had had any other son to twin with Roman she would have been a fantastic Mom. He thinks that if he hadn’t gotten his power at eight fucking years old he would have been able to articulate what the fuck was going on and they might have had a chance.

Then he wonders what the hell they would have had “a chance” at.

And then he gets angry about himself even thinking about it and---

---drives his car directly into the guardrail. Killing himself instantly with the force of the side collision and the air bad while Dee gasps for life he desperately was clinging too and the car that had been behind them for three exits screeches to a stop a dozen yards ahead of them and with passengers scrambling from their pickup truck screaming for help---

---drives his car directly----

And Remus keeps driving on the quiet road, switching lanes so he’s in the middle lane rather than the side one.

Its not a good night.

Well in all honestly it hasn’t been a good day either. They had spent most of it driving and Remus hadn’t meant to be quiet, but his thoughts had been so loud he forgot that not everyone could hear them. They felt like screams, like a blow horn directly into his ear drums, like his brain was being torn apart with each and every fire of a neuron.

Thinking hurt. He hated to do it.

Dee must have picked up on it, must have taken note of his change in attitude since that morning when he had grabbed the car keys off the dresser and hoisted their bags into the car. He had asked once, Remus thought, maybe. It would have been out of character for him not to ask what Remus was doing with the keys, but if he had asked he had only done it one time.

And Remus hadn’t answered it and Dee hadn’t asked again.

He also hadn’t asked where they were going. Remus thinks that was blessing, a mercy, a silent kindness that he was too selfish to even say thank you for. He didn’t know where he was driving to, just that he had blown through a full tank and a half and somewhere over ten hours of driving and that they had crossed timezones again.

And the concept of timezones had made him angry enough to slam his foot to the floor and nearly run a blue minivan off the road entirely.

He switches hands he’s steering with, flexing and stretching his digits to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

There’s four hours now.

And Remus knows this because even if he hadn’t graduated highschool he knew how to read a clock. Which was what he had been doing all day: watching the speedometer and watching the clock and watching his blood pressure rise with every mile he drove.

There’s four hours between them now. Which means nine o’clock for him, which means the dim sky, which means the peaks of the faint stars through the grey cloudy sky, the closed mom-and-pop shops and the dwindling number of other cars-- which means that everything around him currently is not the same thing for someone who is four hours behind them.

Dee is asleep, shifting tiredly, when Remus, grinds his teeth together so hard and violently and angrily.

His skin feels wrong, too tight, too small. It feels like someone else and he’s only borrowing it. It twists around his lungs, constricting around him like a python and stealing every breath from his chest and getting smaller with every inhale.

His legs burn with a restless energy and his eyes hurt from driving for so long and he’s hungry.

The radio fuzzes as he drives, as they reach the end of the station's signal range, as the violins finally die and leaves them with just static. The noise is grating in a way that Remus can’t quite place, something more annoying than the screeching of his own thoughts that won’t shut up. He reaches blindly for the power button, trying not to take his eyes off the road because he doesn’t want to plow them into the back end of the SUV they’ve been trailing behind for the better part of fifty miles.

The radio goes off.

Remus’s thoughts do not.

The cloudy sky makes it darker than it actually is, making him turn on his headlights and make him growl at the lane reflectors he comes across every so often. The words on the signs might as well be written in Greek because Remus doesn’t bother reading them at all.

Mostly.

He tries not to.

But there’s one that spells out “RESTSTOP” and it gouges its phantom fingers in Remus’s brain, refusing to leave him alone after he sees it. He drives and he tells himself it's because they haven’t eaten all day, because Dee probably needs to use the restroom, because he needs a stretch. Dee hasn’t complained at all, you know? Remus owes him a little bit of a stop. Maybe they can look for a fancy hotel with a penthouse edition and get himself drunk on the minibar delights.

That’s all.

It hasn’t nothing to do with the four hour time gap.

Dee doesn’t wake even when he pulls into a well lit parking spot. There’s a handful of other vehicles in the lot: a deep green hatchback with two bikes strapped to the top, a jeep with no doors and a lot of mud, a group of sixish motorcycles and the owners of them standing nearby talking quietly. He counts at least seven eighteen wheelers resting for the hour all with a collection of name brands and graffiti on the backs.

Remus puts their own car in park and sits back, taking it all in.

He’s no stranger to travelling, hasn’t been for a long time. At twenty one years and four months old he’s no longer scared of the dark and certainly not scared of going to a public restroom. The signs clearly mark eating areas, restrooms, the dark, creepy, not-at-all well lit path into the woods for those who need to stretch and want to be murdered by psycho crazy forest clowns. There’s vending machines that take credit cards for sodas and packaged foods and Remus even spots one selling cheap portable phone chargers.

There’s a payphone booth.

Three actually.

None of them are in use, currently.

Remus looks back at the clock in their car-- its a quarter past nine-- and wishes that he couldn’t do math so well in his head. Maybe if he hadn’t been able to count he would have been able to take the stupid urge by is scrawny neck and throw it out the window while he drove right on by. Maybe if he hadn’t been able to keep track of days so well he would have been able to ignore the date. Maybe if he hadn’t been so great at counting he could have been better at something else, anything else, something normal.

She had tried, hadn’t she?

So Remus should have been thankful, grateful, happy at least about that, right? It was his fault that he hadn’t been able to figure out that his visions were telling the future until a year later, until the doctors told him it was all in his head, until his own mother had decided he was making it up. She had listened to him those first few times, listened and reassured him, and held him close when he couldn’t breathe from the crippling fear that Roman was going to die. She had weathered each of eight-year-old Remus’s breakdowns with the patience of a saint.

And he still hadn’t been able to be that perfect son for her.

“Take your meds, Remus,” She had still told him when he was sixteen and had stopped crying when he watched her cross the parking lot without looking. “Take your meds and you’ll get better.” She had said even though that wasn’t what the meds did for people who actually took them. The meds hadn’t been the glue to piece him-- or anyone-- back together. They just reminded people of how their pieces fit without scratching and breaking and shattering even more.

And Remus hadn’t even needed them back then, because his problem hadn’t been like anyone else's.

It hadn’t been delusions and hallucinations in his head. It hadn’t been him going crazy, it hadn’t been him losing himself.

She had tried though. To be a good mother. To love him and all his….quirks.

“I don’t need you!” Roman had said. Very loudly, very openly, very angrily. And Remus thinks about that day a lot, often, all the goddamn time. Because they had been arguing all the way up the stairs, had been fighting verbally and their mother, their mom, Mom, had been just below them in the kitchen making dinner-- or maybe it had been a dessert, baking? Or just messing around in the kitchen. She had been there.

And they had gotten in trouble for arguing much quieter before.

Remus thinks about that day. He thinks about the vision of Roman dying by his own hand, of the blood and the gore and then fluttering pulse and the concept of a soul leaving the body. He thinks about how his parents would have come running the moment they heard Roman scream in pain.

He thinks.

Maybe he thinks too much.

And maybe one day he’d get the courage to ask himself the big looming question: Had she loved him? Or had she loved the concept of him?

Today wasn’t, hasn’t been, isn’t that day.

It’s nine thirty, here, at this rest stop somewhere in Oregon, where Remus is clawing his fingers on his thighs and letting his unevenly chewed nails catch on the holes in his fishnets. Its nine thirty here on the day where Remus is twenty one and four months old and staring at a payphone like it was about to ring all by itself. Its nine thirty one and Remus is thinking too much, too loudly, not enough.

It must be around five thirty for her. Right in the middle of dinner. Or after. Maybe she’s doing the dishes under scalding water that boils her hands right off. Maybe the dinner was poisoned and she’s clawing at her throat right now. Maybe she went out for the evening and got hit by a car when crossing the street.

Remus knows he could check. He doesn’t.

Because his skin is already itching and his breath is too hot and he wants to cry but he’s too old to be crying over things like this, just like his mom has said a thousand times over.

He wonders if she would believe him if he told her how many times she had cried over Roman, how many times she had frozen at the sight of her precious baby boy going still and silent, how many times she fell to the ground and clutched at his body screaming her sobs like there was a chance any god out there would hear her anguish and give her son back.

Like she had only one to love and cherish.

She had tried.

Remus wants to laugh so badly it hurts. The urge itself rips through his body, shredding his organs with a razorblade and filling his lungs with fluids followed and squirming its way up his throat inch by inch with a determination Remus hasn’t seen in himself since that gas station four years ago where he saw himself jump in front of an eighteen wheeler and felt his insides go splat! for the first time.

Remus wants to laugh, because she had tried, and it hadn’t been enough and Remus still---

He still---

Remus pulls the keys out of the ignition and throws them in the cupholder next to the sleeping Dee. He exchanges it for his wallet, which had seen far better days and been handled far nicer, but that’s beside the point. His driver’s license is overdue but nothing short of a nuclear bomb will get him back to the state he had once lived in-- he skips over it and the various rechargeable cards he had picked up over the years (Starbucks, Seven-Eleven, a Techron Advantage Card he got for fun and never actually used because Dee always paid for gas) and goes straight for the cash.

They’re all large bills. He takes a fifty.

Dee murmurs softly as he unbuckles his seat belt and flies into a wide blown panic when Remus opens the door. Quicker than Remus thought was possible for a guy to move, he springs over the dividing console and grabs Remus’s arm with-- OW FUCK DEE -- claws.

Remus yanks back on instinct, throwing himself against the already open door and tumbles into the empty parking spot next to them. His arm howls with pain, with an agony, with a cacophony that drowns out all his other thoughts for the moment.

The blood is red.

Remus is twenty one and four months old and his body wracks with such a vehement hatred for the color it makes the rest of his blood, the blood in his veins, the blood in his body, his blood boil. Its red, and he hates red, has hated red, will forever hate red.

Because red was the color of Roman’s favorite jacket when they were eight, the color of Roman’s shoes that he left out on the stairs too many times, the color of Roman’s blood too.

Red had been the color staining the bumper of a silver sedan, the color of a broken snow globe hitting the carpet, the color of Remus’s insides on the freeway, and the underside of an eighteen wheeler, and the bottom of the motel bathroom tub.

“Remus!” Dee yells from inside the car, morphing, changing, panicking in a way that is not like him at all. He clambers into the driver's seat looking too pale for a guy whose skin tone could be any color he wanted it to be. “I’m sor-- I didn’t know we ha--- Oh my god I’m sorry!”

He grabs all the napkins they have squirreled away in the crevices of the car, then the half empty tissue pack from the last time Remus had decided to check to see if the line in McDonalds was going to be long, then a scarf Dee had bought before he remembered that it was warm enough to cook eggs on the sidewalk in most of the places they went to. He spills out of the car even less gracefully than Remus had, bubbling up apologies like his mouth was a fountain. There’s an emotion wafting off him, something that taints the air and makes the hair on Remus’s neck stand on edge.

“It’s okay,” Remus whispers.

“You’re not okay!” Dee frantically responds, turning a stripe of his hair blonde and completely missing the part where Remus did not say he himself was okay.

Dee’s fingers feel like bugbites up and down his arm, like cigarette ends being jammed into his flesh, like he was the cake and Dee was placing enough candles in him to make up for every birthday his mother had missed celebrating.

“Its okay,” Remus says, tugging his arm away before Dee can turn him into a house fire that burns down the whole block.

“Remus--”

Remus stands up. “I need to make a phone call.”

Remus doesn’t need to make a phone call. He probably shouldn’t make a phone call.

“Remus!” Dee says standing up too. He’s taller this week, today, now, than he’s been before. He’s got an inch on Remus, and he uses that inch to look down at him and breathe like every inhale might be his last. There’s blood on his hands from trying to mop up where Dee had clawed him. Remus can feel the warmth of his blood trailing down his fingers even now.

“What the hell is up with you right now!” He demands in a way that makes Remus’s stomach churn, that makes his knees weak and his throat feel all lumpy in all the wrong places.

He should be mad. Dee should be furious at him for ignoring him all day, for driving them through a handful of states, for not pausing for bathroom breaks or any type of food, for not waking him when he stopped at the rest stop. He should be so angry he can’t see straight, so enraged that he stood up and grabbed the keys and drive the fuck away from here. He should be mad.

So why does he sound so scared?

“Is this about the Mall?” Dee asks, “I can do better, Remus, please! I’m sorry!”

He’s babbling like a brook, about things in the mall that Remus barely remembered because it was a day and a half ago and three, four, five states gone. He’s talking about the Mall the same way that eight-year-old Roman had been apologizing for name calling, while Remus was three sheets in the wind during a tornado on his own thoughts.

“No,” Remus says, which is about as effective as shoving his finger in a hole in a dam.

The parking lot lights make Dee look like he’s standing in a spotlight on stage. Remus hates the sight, hates the feeling that they’re putting on a production for someone else's entertainment, hates that he should know his lines by now and because he doesn’t he's ruining everything around him.

Dee moves like a clockwork mannequin with rusted gears. Remus thinks he can hear each individual gear screech as his back straightens and his weight shifts back and Dee looks more like Roman than he’d ever know.

“N--n--” Dee repeats, “No?”

As if he didn’t know what the word meant.

“Like….no I can’t do better?”

-- “Like, No Get Back in the Fucking Car, Dee!” Remus explodes.---

--“Like No, Leave me alone for five seconds!” Remus erupts.---

--”Like No, Its not your fault I’m a fucking mess!” Remus chokes.---

--- “Like No, Its not your fault. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”--

-- “Like No, I’m making bad decisions and I’m sorry and I don’t know what to do and I know that you don’t really love me the way you think you do because no one ever loves me that way. Like No, this is a future that I’m not going to choose but I wish I had because keeping this all in my chest hurts like a little bitch, Dee. It hurts so bad. Like no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m going to have such a nose bleed from this one, and because you’re you, you’ll know that I’ve been bullshitting my way through this for a good while. My power’s broken, Dee. Don’t you see? And once I tell you what's going to be left for you to stay?.”---

“Like No,” Remus says, defeated. “I don’t even remember what happened at the Mall.”

Dee stares at him with stolen sapphire eyes, with an emotion he can’t place, with wordless questions Remus doesn’t want to answer.

He doesn’t know what time it is.

A drip of his blood leaks down his lip and lands on the asphalt at his feet. That’s okay.

He breathes in the dry air, feeling it scratch down his throat and butcher his lungs with each inhale. “I...need to make this phone call.”

“Why?” Dee pleads, and Remus thinks that if even Dee can tell it will end badly, he should know better than to go through with it.

But Remus has been thinking too much lately, about too many things. He’s been trapped up in his own head, and the last people he tried to let help him gave up on him.

And he still can’t give up on them.

“It’s her birthday,” Remus says with a smile that borders on deranged, “And she tried, you know?”

He doesn’t know. Remus can tell by the look on Dee’s face. But that’s okay. They made a pact after all, after that first night, that they wouldn’t get personal, that discussions of feelings were off the table. And Dee had said in a future that hadn’t happened that Remus was an investment that will pay out one day. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know.

“Remus,” Dee says, controlling the stage like he was born to do it. “What will she say?”

Remus shrugs and turns away because he’s never been able to make it past intermission of any production he’s watched. The fifty in his hand has splatterings of blood, his arm aches and whines as he uses it to smear away the waterfall from his nose. At least a couple of the sidewalk lights are broken so he doesn’t scare every single normal person chilling at the rest stop as he walks up.

Remus is twenty one and four months, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t waste forty seven dollars on snacks from a vending machine just to get the change in quarters to call cross country. He’s not hungry but he peels open a Cliff bar and takes a bite anyway. The rest of the food he leaves on the patio floor around the vending machine for whatever comes by, be it the kids he can hear yelling or the raccoons watching from the tree line.

He glances back at the car, their car, Dee’s car. Just to make sure its still there. That Dee didn’t drive off without him.

Dee hadn’t, didn’t, doesn’t. He’s sitting in the driver's seat with the door wide open, half in half out, and it looks like he was fiddling with the radio again.

Remus tosses the other half of the bar into the trashcan and walks the last three steps to the payphones.

She had tried. Remus puts the phone to his ear and tries to remember how to breathe.

The buttons are stiff. Remus’s knuckle leaves behind traces of his blood as he dials. The back of his throat tastes like his inside of his stomach. There’s a gritty feeling along his teeth and the bottom of his mouth from the Cliff Bar. He’s knees tremble to the sound of the ringing, leaving him swaying in the too-long silences, in the bated breaths, in the calm before the hurricane.

“Hi! It's the Regis Family! We’re not available right now, but if you leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you!”

Remus’s mouth tastes like blood. He swallows it down, breathes through the rest of the message, the beep and another moment where his chest just aches with a billion words he doesn’t know how to say.

“H….hey.” His voice is raspy. Why is his voice so raspy? He clears his throat. “I, uh...I was calling to say, Happy Birthday. Hope it was a good one. That’s all. B--”

“--Hello?”

Remus’s jaw clicks shut at the noise, the words, the voice. Because even four years later Remus knows it like the back of his hand, can still imagine it screaming his name in the store, of it laughing as she brushed through his curls, of it whispering softly that everything is fine, everything is okay, I’m right here, Remus.

“Ha, Hi! Sorry about that, you caught us just as we were getting back to the house! Oh, this is embarrassing… Who is this? Our caller ID isn’t working…”

She trails off.

Remus thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

She sounds out of breath, flushed and happy and excited in a way that he doesn’t remember her ever being before. His vision tunnels through memories, through scenes in his head where she’s smiled and laughed and giggled the way she’s doing right now. He’s coming up blank.

He grabs the wall to keep himself steady.

“Hello?”

“I’m here,” Remus croaks.

She’s different now. So is he. Everything is different and the world seems to stop at that mind blowing statement.

“.....I’m sorry,” She says, “I really need to know who this is, now.”

Remus should hang up.

Remus needs to hang up.

He laughs, like he’s on death row, like the barrel of a gun in on his temple, like his foot just left the ledge.

“What?” He asks, “Can’t a mother recognize the sound of her own son's voice?”

There’s a breath. A moment. A second. Remus feels it. Like it's tangible, palpable, real. Like all the clocks in the world decided to stop. Like a tick without a tock. Like the past and the present and the future didn’t exist at all. There’s a breath, and Remus thinks that she had tried once, maybe she could try again.

They both could try again.

“Oh my god. Is that...Baby, is that really you? I’m so sorry for what I said. You were right.”

“Wait--”

“You’re always right. And I’m sorry about-- about everything. Please let me make it up to you?” His mother says and Remus gets a sinking feeling in his chest.

“What--”

“Or at least talk about it? Can we do that?” His mother says and Remus should have hung up.

“Mom--”

“Can you come back home, Roman?” His mother says and Remus sees red.

Because, of course, she thought he was Roman. Of course.

Red is the color of Roman. The color of his jacket and his shoes and the ball Remus should have thrown into the road when they were eight. The color of a past Remus can’t get rid of because every time he does anything he can only hear Roman’s voice in his head or picture his mom with her red lipstick telling him to take his pills and stop being so abnormal. It’s the color of a future that he can’t reach because every time he gets a little bit of hope he’s reminded that he’s unnecessary and forgettable.

Red is the color of Remus’s blood that looks just like his twin’s but somehow has always been valued less to their mother.

He squeezes the handle of the phone so hard his fingers go numb from the pain, and the scarf around his wrist turns scarlet. His body trembles and bubbles and boils like its housing a volcano ready to erupt, or a thousand termites are trying to chew their way out of him, or every atom in his body is trying to shake themselves apart.

Remus is twenty one and four months old and he hangs up the phone so hard that it pops right back out of the slot and swings to the ground by its cord.

He doesn’t fix it. In fact he doesn’t even see it because he’s too busy seeing red. Too busy seeing Roman’s head collide with the bumper of a silver sedan, too busy seeing Roman’s neck break when he falls off the swingset wrong, too busy seeing Roman’s body on the ground of his carpet surrounded by the shattered remains of a snowglobe, too busy seeing all the things he should have done or let happen or helped happen.

Too busy knowing that hindsight is 2020 and Remus’s insides suddenly want to be outsides and his arm hurts and he wants to--

He wants to--

--“REMUS!” Dee shrieks from across the parking lot, sprinting towards him because he forgot that he can shapeshift into something faster. There’s a terror in his eyes, a fear, a horror in his expression that's like being stuck under a collapsed building and knowing that no one is gonna come. “REMUS! SOMEONE HELP!”---

But no one is close enough and Remus’s knots are a practiced stubborn thing that has his body convulsing before Dee remembers he can make claws and cut the scarf off.---

But no one is close enough and Remus’s knots are a practiced stubborn thing that has his body convulsing before Dee remembers he can make claws and cut the scarf off.

But by then Remus is already dead.---

But no that’s not right.

He doesn’t want to die.

His mouth tastes like metal, and he’s so sick of the taste of metal, of the smell of blood, of the sight of red on his clothes and on him. He’s so sick of being the weird twin, of being the one everyone wants to forget, of being gifted with a power that's so shitty it his own body rejects it. He’s so, so sick.

And tired.

And angry.

That he spent all day trying to figure out what to say to his mother and she doesn’t even remember him. That his family pushed him away and now he watches himself jump off buildings or into traffic or off tables at a rest stop. That his skin feels too small and his mind too big and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him but everyone still treated him like there was.

“Pardon me,” A voice says to his left. “Hello? Sir? You seem to be bleeding...”

It belongs to a guy with glasses, big thick blocky glasses that match every other part of him: his sharp jawline, his stiff spine, his set shoulders. It belongs to a guy with hair so dark it might as well have been a black hole, with eyes swirling with so many blues they looked like nebulas, with skin so pale it might as well have been the surface of the moon. It belongs to a guy that reaches out oh so carefully and touches Remus’s shoulder to check that he’s alright and---

-- “A stick in the mud?” Logan suggests sourly as they walk. The rain speckles his glasses and plasters his hair to his head.

“I was gonna say prude, but that works too,” His younger brother shrugs, sipping loudly from his drink. “Girl, you really just need to loosen up. You’re always so stressed!”

“I do not need to loosen up,” Logan counters, “In fact, if anything, I need to tighten up my interactions with people more. You saw what happened to the baristas at the Starbucks.”

“Yeah, and it was Awesome!” His brother motions to the drink in his hand, “Free drinks!”

“Will it still be awesome when they get fired and lose their source of income because they unwittingly gave away merchandise to customers?” Logan asks. He tugs his jackets around him tighter, hunching his shoulders and wishing that between the two of them they had thought to bring at least one umbrella.

His brother rolls his eyes because the rain doesn’t bother him anymore than the slight chill or the cars passing dangerously close to their sidewalk. “Honey,” He says, “Its two free drinks. It’s not gonna kill the infrastructure.”

Logan grunts, dismissing the rest of the argument as he was prone to do more often these days. “Remind me again why we’re here.”

“That prince dude is supposed to be around here today!”

“You mean, Princeps,” Logan corrects. “Assumedly named after the swordsmen from Roman armies pre-Marian reforms. Which does not make any sense considering that he does not carry a sword and his perceived power does not--”

“I wanna get his autograph!”

Logan squints back at his brother. “You want the autograph of a man who is running around the country in tights? You don’t even have anything for him to sign.”

His brother shakes his mostly empty drink and points to the spot right below where the barista had scratched out his own name, not that Logan can see it, or anything. “Duh.”

Logan shakes his head, as his brother prattles on about Princeps face, his biceps, his thighs. And as much as Logan enjoys listening to his brother talk about things that interest him, he wishes that it was something other than men that thought “superhero” was a stable dayjob. He sighs and removes his glasses and to clean them as best as he can with the raindrops being the nice of dimes.z

He hates the rain, hates that he couldn’t ever see more than three feet when it so much as sprinkled, hates that his brother has no such problems at all and can continue walking without a care in the world.

“LOGAN!” His brother yells.

And Logan has just enough time to feel his stomach jump straight to his throat, before he walks blindly into an open manhole. His forehead slams on the outer rim so hard he sees actual stars in the corners of his blurry vision. And he fumbles and flails and falls and...

And the empty air catches him, covets him, carries him off. Because he’s dead as soon as his head hits the concrete floor ten feet below---

Remus inhales like he’s been drowning for the past four years, and hasn’t been able to find the surface. He stumbles back from the stranger who had approached him, from the man who has a younger brother, who doesn’t like superheroes, who’s name is Logan. He stumbles back and feels the whole Earth roll under his feet, turning the solid ground to an uneven puddy.

Logan jerks back as well, be it shock or surprise or something in between and equally bad. He looks at Remus, the way that the first dealer from the Basilisk Casino had, the way that the new freshmen at their high school had when the older kids told them to steer clear of the guy who looked just like the theater star, the way that Roman had when he had first seen the orange bottle of pills that were supposed to make Remus not cry all the time.

“My apologies, you seemed to be in distre--” Logan starts.

“Don’t touch me,” Remus says quicker, louder, angrier. Because Logan doesn’t know that he’s going to die some day in the future, that its going to be a stupid sudden death, that his brother that he actually loves and whom loves him back is going to witness it. Because Remus doesn’t know why he knows either.

His skin blisters and bubbles and itches in a way that tells him he needs to take it off. His arm burns from the scratches, his blood is making his hand and wrist all sticky and his head feels a bit like cotton. His mouth tastes like Starbucks Hot chocolate and ash.

“Don’t touch me,” Remus says again, because he feels radioactive and can smell petrichor in the air and everything about it is wrong. If he says anything else he thinks he might throw up or cry or both and he doesn’t think anything other than more blood can come up.

Remus turns and runs.

“Remus?” Dee asks, when Remus throws himself into the passenger seat the way he should have that morning.

Remus shakes his head. And keeps shaking it because if he stops his thoughts will catch up and then they’ll really be in trouble.

“Drive,” He manages between his inconsolable gulps for air.

“Where?” Dee asks.

“Don’t care.”

He doesn’t. He just needs to be somewhere other than here.

Remus is twenty one and four months and he’s no stranger to travelling without a destination. Dee buckles his seat belt and pulls out of the parking spot without another word. Remus brings his knees to his head and counts, and counts, and counts. If he closes his eyes he thinks that he might see the silhouette of Logan standing next to the payphones staring at his hand still so he doesn’t close his eyes.

“That’s just what I’m saying, John.” The radio says, “All these new people with what can only be classified as “superpowers” and what is the Police doing about this? Nothing!”

“Hotel,” Dee says, “We can order some food there and actually look at those marks on your arm.”

“Whatever,” Remus says.

“Well what do you expect the Police to do?” The radio says, “Their answer to everything is “shoot it.” I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the police shooting at a kid who just so happened to be able to make lightning. You heard about that incident in the Idahoan Mall didn't you? Times are changing. It's up to the people to police themselves now.”

Dee sticks his tongue out ever so slightly, like a snake smelling the air.

“You’re encouraging the actions of people like that dragon guy from that incident? The child from that event is in the hospital right now.

“So is the man that had been robbing the store. Which is better than him being the morgue. I’m not saying that I think that putting children in the hospital is a good idea! I’m saying that only protecting the lives of “good” people is telling everyone to become judge, jury, and executioner. The Idaho Mall Incident could have been handled better-- in fact I think if the new guy, the one around the east wearing the white? You know the one I’m talking about, Karen.”

“Yeah, yeah, the Prince? I think he called himself Prince.”

“Yes. If the Prince had been the one who had handled the Idaho Mall, it could have been handled completely peacefully, without either parties having ended up in the hospital.”

Dee grips the steering wheel, tightly.

Remus reaches out and turns the radio off.

[Part 5]

#Deja vu AU #remus sanders #Janus Sanders #sanders sides #Logan Sanders #roman sanders #tw:blood #tw:suicide #Remus is not having a good time #Demus #Oh look!! A wild Logan!!#And a peek at what Roman has been up too #oooh its almost like....Roman has a power too #ooooo #remus angst #this boy needs some therapy I'm so sorry #Anyone else really hate Remus's mom?

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