#I SHOULD JUST TOUCH UP OLD DRAWINGS THAT FELT UNFINISHED SINCE THAT AS FAR AS I CAN GO RN

[vyragosa]

[symphonicmetal101]

Welcome To The World Satan

An Obey Me theory/headcanon as to how Satan gradually became accepted by a grief-ridden family

Ok to start, I’ll be referring to a couple hcs that already exist here, It’s not vital to go back and read those first, but it’s a short piece and would help me out a ton if you leave so much as a like! Thank you.

Alright, as I mentioned in the other piece, I hc that Satan was “born” as a small child, about 4 years old in human years. This is because children often do not have a way to communicate exactly how they are feeling, and their frustration is further enhanced by the lack of that ability. Because Satan was the spawn of Lucifer’s wrath, guilt, and regret, I would also like to put a theory out there that Satan is the spitting image of Lilith, seeing as losing Lilith is one of if not Lucifer’s biggest regret. However I want to take that theory a little farther.

Mammon

In those few moments it took for Satan to form, Lilith’s ghost had been nearby, heart-broken to see her brothers fall and crushed with the knowledge knowing they would be in pain in every way possible, thus merging with Satan before he fully came to be, hoping to provide to the newest member to her family, as well as use him as a vessel to aid in calming her family, despite his turbulent origins. When they crashed in the Devildom, someone wrote this much more poetically than me however I cannot remember who, I apologize, Lucifer was quick to throw himself into his work, his grief not aided by Satan’s strikingly similar appearance to Lilith, leaving Satan feeling confused and upset, as well as the pieces of Lilith with in him, who wanted nothing more than to comfort her biggest brother, but continued to be pushed away. With Leviathan under the water, Asmo indulging in his sin, Beel basically stress-eating, and Belphie sleeping the sad away, the only one really available for Satan was Mammon. Mammon of course, was dealing with his own grief, but here he was in the same room as a young crying and screaming kid that looked like his dead sister, all his brothers have kind of separated to deal with things on their own, but...he couldn’t just leave Satan. After a few attempts at calming him down and failing, Mammon started getting distracted by pieces of metal and scraps around the room, temporarily ignoring Satan and subconsciously going back to an old hobby with an alternate motive- inventing a machine that could help make him rich! Though as Mammon started gathering supplies, Satan’s cries slowly started to deescalate into small whimpers and sniffles before he crawled over to Mammon, studying what he was doing and then trying his best to help. It was a bit of a stress-reliever for Mammon, and he helped Satan the way Lucifer had helped him all those years ago, but warned him it might not work. It inevitably fell apart and Satan’s first instinct was to throw a tantrum, but as hot tears of frustration filled his eyes, Mammon simply pulled him into a hug. Lilith also helped calm him down a bit, and for the first time since being created, Satan sighed and felt peace...at least momentarily, but that was all he needed to know  he was safe with Mammon, and a piece of Lilith faded, one of her pieces of unfinished business completed.

The Twins

Satan still wasn’t accepted very quickly by the other brothers, and even with Mammon he struggled to be around him all the time, and as mentioned in the other piece, he often wandered. However one time he had had a nightmare and was walking towards Mammon’s room when he heard a pitiful cry from the twins room, daring to peek in and see Beel and Belphie sharing a bed, Beel crying in his sleep, Belphie clearly having a nightmare just like he had just had. A strange urge pushed him forward, though he felt very small in comparison, wondering what he could possibly do until he got stronger instruction from a voice in his head to lay between the two. He did, and slowly but surely the twins and himself calmed down and were able to fall back asleep. The morning after, the twins were surprised, and after listening to Satan’s story as to why he was in their bed, they had the want to protect him as well. As they spent more time with him however, they found that he not only looked like Lilith, but shared many characteristics with her. For Belphie, it was a source of comfort, whereas for Beel it brought his guilt back, and for the time being, he tried to distance himself from Satan, but always treated him kindly whenever they did happen to be in the same room. Whenever Satan couldn’t sleep, Belphie would tell him bed time stories. Eventually Satan wanted to remember all the stories Belphie told him, so he got a paper and a pen to draw what he understood from each story, and would cry and scream at Belphie if he fell asleep in the middle of telling a story. He had his own picture books now, and would review them often.

Levi

Asmo

I have some other stuff on him and Asmo here, regarding his sense of style (and/or lack thereof), but not important. Asmo wasn’t home a lot of the time after the initial fall, spending his time indulging himself, as well as going out and drinking. (May do an angst piece for Asmo in the near future, we shall see-) However as he started to adjust even the smallest bit, he started to actually decorate his room a bit instead of neglecting it. So by the Satan came stumbling down the hallway looking for something to do, his curiousity got the best of him and he walked into Asmo’s bedroom, when the Lust demon happened to be out. He took a look around the room until he found some fashion magazines, the bright colours and big lettering catching his eye. Not wanting to get caught in Asmo’s room without him there, he took one and ran to his room, and slowly looking over the words to try and sound them out, using the pictures to help him understand. As he got better at this, it would become almost a ritual. He would very quietly open the door to make sure that if Asmo was in there sleeping, he wouldn’t wake him up by accident and avoid getting caught. He would steal a few magazines (thanks Mammon for showing him how to do it “right”-), take them to his room and try to read them, but now also adding the words to Belphie’s stories under his pictures in his book. One day he was on his way to return the magazines with his book tucked under his other arm, excited to show the twins and maybe Mammon, but in his excitement he forgot to knock or check quietly first, opening the door and seeing a startled looking Asmo applying make-up at his vanity. Asmo knew about Satan, but hadn’t really seen him yet, wide-eyed at the resemblance between him and Lilith as he slowly put his mascara down and knelt on the floor, beckoning Satan closer by name, reassuring him it was ok. Satan cautiously and somewhat ashamed-looking approached Asmo, trying somewhat to hide the magazines he had, though once he was close enough Asmo could see that there were a few tears in his eyes, from fear, and anger at himself, and embarrassment in getting caught. He gently put his hand on Satan’s shoulder and asked him if he needed a hug, trying not to let on just how much he needed one himself. Satan started crying and apologized for taking the magazines without permission as he hugged Asmo. Asmo reassured him it was ok and held him close until he stopped crying, just rocking him back and forth a bit. When he was done, Asmo had a few tears in his eyes as well as he wiped Satan’s away, explaining he wasn’t upset, but curious as to why Satan wanted to look at the magazines. Satan proudly presented his homemade book to Asmo and explained he had been teaching himself how to read and write using Asmo’s magazines. Asmo was clearly impressed by this, and was the first person to praise Satan for anything he had done, and asked him to read the book to him, sitting on the floor properly and inviting him to sit in his lap. Satan was more than happy to oblige, feeling his little heart swell with joy as he plopped himself down and started reading to Asmo the stories Belphie told him, as Asmo felt love for someone again, almost crying at the amount of comfort Satan had given him, for the first time sense falling, Asmo had found a bit of peace, allowing another piece of Lilith to fade away. As Satan presented his work to his other brothers, they were impressed, Belphie much more touched than he let on., and it was actually him that suggested that one of them take Satan to a library with more age-appropriate books, as the ones in the house were too mature for him. Satan was ecstatic and was finally starting to feel a bit more like a part of the family. 

It took a while for Levi to come home, partially because he didn’t even know where “home” was. However by the time Levi got home he was still struggling to control his sin, getting angry and jealous over Satan getting so much attention, inadvertently feeding into Satan’s power. Satan turned into his demon form, a sight that wasn’t new to the other brothers but concerning, as for the first time, he wasn’t crying, and it was just pure anger as Levi snapped at him for “taking his brothers away” and “you’re not a real part of this family, why should you get the love I deserve?!” Beel tried to calm Levi down as Asmo and Belphie tried Satan, but the damage was done and Satan wasn’t backing down this time. He ended up attacking Levi, leaving everyone panicking, not knowing how Levi would react and how far Satan would go. Beel was quick to pick Satan up, leaving a stunned Levi on the floor. He slowly got up, as Satan curled into Beel still in his demon form, crying angrily, not wanting to believe Levi’s words. Levi mumbled something under his breath and went to his room, holing up and relying on Beel to bring him food and water as he continued to pity himself. Satan needed a lot reassurance from his brothers he had connected with to make sure they weren’t going to push him away again, leave him alone again, and not say things like Levi had ever again. It wasn’t until Levi started to set things up for a pet that Satan felt like approaching him again. Levi had learned to control himself a bit better as well as felt bad for having said those things to Satan, and apologizing. Once Satan knew what kind of pet Levi was getting, and also found out that Levi read something called “manga”, he asked one of his brothers to take him to the library so he could grabs some manga as well as pick up food for the animal Levi was getting. Satan also picked up a book about raising the animal Levi was getting. He was adamant about taking it to Levi himself, his arms full of manga as he made his way to Levi’s room trying not to fall over. Levi was pleasantly surprised, and took a moment before realizing he should probably grab the stack before the child did actually fall over- Satan had asked about a certain book, caught off guard by himself as there was no way he should’ve known the title of a book when he didn’t even know that genre existed- Thank you Lilith. He had gotten a book that Levi had been in the middle of reading in the Celestial Realm, making him inexplicably happy. Levi ruffled his hair a bit as thanks and Satan smiled, happy that they had made up and resumed helping Levi set up the habitat. Levi told Satan he would help him find good manga for when he was old enough to read some of them. And with that, another piece of Lilith faded away.

Lucifer

Finally there was Lucifer. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on Satan’s part, since his creation, Lucifer was the one he felt the pull to most, but continuously was pushed away, Lucifer being “too busy”. What he didn’t know, was almost every time he left Lucifer, Lucifer would cry. He felt like a failure for having lost Lilith, and seeing Satan was salt in the wound as we was reminded of her every time. Satan felt unwanted, and started to build resentment for Lucifer, surely if he could get along with Levi he could eventually get along with the person who brought him into this world....right? However even once Lucifer started coming out of his office, whenever Lucifer looked down at Satan, even Satan could tell that there was something in his eyes that didn’t feel right, almost like disgust, when really, it was sadness. Satan stopped trying to get on Lucifer’s good side, despite what he felt was Lilith’s desperation. After a while, Lucifer finally felt ready to try and talk to Satan, to get to know him, but Satan still held that resentment and turned him away, telling him “you should have been the brother you are trying to be now...when I actually needed and wanted you.” 

Conclusion

There is a small part of Lilith still with Satan, but he has grown to the point of being his own person. Sometimes when Satan feels alienated for being the only demon-born brother, he gets an inexplicable feeling of comfort wash over him, at least he did before MC came. With MC there to kind of take Lilith’s place, Lilith was finally able to find rest, her unfinished business finally taken care of.

Anyways- thank you for reading, I hope you found this interesting!

Masterlist

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Eight

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood, torture

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part eight of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"I asked you a question, it's very rude not to respond to me." Namjoon snarled at you, you stared up at him through your lashes and licked your lips to remove some of the blood. The taste of blood ran through your tongue and you spat down onto the floor beside his foot, which he didn't like. Blood was dripping from your busted lip and some from a cut near your back that would need some form of stitches, if you ever got out of the warehouse he was keeping you in.

"I won't tell you anything about him." Your voice was laced with poison, and you got another slap across your cheek for speaking to him like that. No one was allowed to speak to him that way, it had been this way from the moment he got you back here. He'd slap, kick, punch and even threaten you with weapons unless you gave him what he wanted from you.

"You know," You spat blood by his feet once more. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, wanting to know what you had to say to him,

"At least when Chan kept me tied up I was warm." He growled, grabbing onto your face by each cheek he forced you to look at him in the eyes as he spoke to you. You could practically smell what he'd eaten all day and you groaned at him.

"At least have a breath mint if you're going to get this close to me." He gripped onto you tightly and sneered at you. He was pissed that you were trying to act like someone you weren't.

"If you're going to pretend to be tough you better be ready, doll face." He smirked at you, looking over his shoulder at something. There was the sound of a blow torch turning on and your face was forced to look in the direction he'd been looking in.

"A nice red hot poker for the pretty skin of yours, I'm sure Chan will love you all marked up." You tried to kick your legs at him, but you were tied down to the chair, so it wasn't as if you could go anywhere or do anything to him.

"Talk or I start burning." You stared at him, holding your ground. He'd done nothing but ask you questions about Chan since the moment he got you there, he wanted you alive so you knew you were safe for now. You hadn't slept or eaten anything for god knows how long and you didn't even know if Chan was going to come looking for you. Your mind just kept going back to the night before when he left you there, alone, and abandoned without protection. He'd promised to look after you.

"I can give you whatever he was giving you, money, power, anything. Name it and it'll all be yours...He's not going to come back for you sweetie." His voice was strapped with a condescending tone, so you spat more blood on the floor beside his foot. Sharp pain rushed across your cheek as he slapped you across the face with the back of his hand, cutting it with a ring he had on.

"He's not going to come back," Your face was once again in his hands as he forced you to look at him,

"He left you there," Another slap across your face, knocking your head limply from side to side,

"He let me find you," Another slap on the other side of your cheek, you coughed up some blood you'd swallowed and he grabbed your cheeks once again. A sharp pain ran through you as he gripped each cheek where he had been slapping with his ring covered fingers,

"One last chance before I go hard on you, where is he?" You stared into his eyes before looking down at the floor, not wanting to give up anything on Chan. He'd already been through so much with Namjoon killing his wife, you weren't about to make him lose everything he'd worked towards.

"Oh I get it," Namjoon started laughing loudly and he dropped your face as he knelt down in front of you. You avoided his eyes as he started laughing even harder,

"You've fallen in love with the monster. Oh little dove," He kept laughing and sniggering as he stared at you, all of his men laughing along with him as they stared at you,

"Can you believe it guys? The little one has Stockholm syndrome." You hissed at him as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip where he'd busted it open,

"He's a monster darling-"

"HE IS NOT!" You screamed at him, lunging so hard that the chair fell forward catching Namjoon in the leg.

"Bitch!" He cried out, slapping you across the face once again only this time everything snapped into black.

"I said find her and I meant it," Chan growled as he stared down at his desk, he had countless photographs of you and him together. All of them taken from the night before when you had been on your date. Including some when he was making love to you in the gardens.

"We're trying but it's hard, she tried to get back here last night but from the tracks on the road it looks like someone-"

"Not someone! Namjoon! Namjoon got her and I want her found now!" His fist slammed against the desk so hard it knocked over the drink he had on his desk, he didn't care that it was spilling onto the floor. He didn't care that he hadn't slept in a day all he cared about was trying to find you before something bad happened.

Why did he have to leave you there?! He should have just stayed there with you and let you say what you wanted to say instead of running away scared, he should have stuck to the plan with Changbin. The plan to take you out and show you off, make sure to grab the attention of Namjoon and have a public date right? He was just supposed to leave you there for an hour or so and come back to Namjoon being there with you, but after the words left your mouth he just ran.

"I think I have it," Changbin said as he walked into the room, Chan came out of his daydream to look at Changbin. His hair was pushed back and he hadn't changed from the suit he'd worn the night before, he'd be working harder than anyone else - besides Chan -  since it had been his plan in the first place.

"Show me," He laid out floor plans of an old building Namjoon had bought under a fake name, and he'd been there that morning to get thermal images of the inside of the building.

"It's got to be her, look." He circled where a bunch of people seemed to be hiding in one spot, but it was far too obvious for it not to be some kind of trap set up by Namjoon. But right now all Chan cared about was getting you out of there before something could happen to you.

"Get your guns and get extra ammo if you want it, let's go."

"Chan I think we should-" Jisung tried to talk to him about coming up with some kind of plan,

"I said let's go! I'm not letting her go!" Jisung nodded, he knew that and he wasn't suggesting that he was suggesting going in with a plan instead of just running in without some kind of plan.

"You're going to tell me everything I need to know." Your hands were chained above your head on a hook as you were being knelt on the floor. Your knees were cut up as they dragged along the harsh flooring that was inside there.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," You repeated, looking at Namjoon who groaned, rolling his eyes at you. He wiggled the chains to make sure they were secure and that you couldn't get out of them.

"You're going to have to talk at some point, he's not going to come back so you might as well talk to me now." You stayed silent and he sighed, dropping to his knees and squatting onto the floor in front of you,

"I'm going to tell you what I did to his pretty little wife, all of those beautiful details he probably left out," He said as he picked out his gun and cocked it back - you'd seen him loading it less than 20 minutes ago so you knew it was real,

"You're going to be a good little girl and listen to me," He placed the gun on your temple to make sure you knew he was serious about this. You looked at him, giving away no sign that you were terrified of him even though on the inside you were crying and screaming to get away from him.

"He went away on some trip and she was home alone, we broke in and we took her just like I took you last night." You swallowed the lump that was starting to form and you nodded along to what he was saying, not wanting him to shoot you, he was clearly unstable.

"We took her to my place where I chained her up just like this." He uncocked the gun and put it down out of your reach, before he took out a blade from his jeans.

"Then, when she didn't give me what I wanted we tortured her for a week until he came home and then we left her on the floor for him to find," He started laughing loudly, you felt your eyes well up at the thought of Chan walking in and finding his wife on the floor like that,

"Gutted her like a fish and left her on the carpet, you should have seen the look on his face when he found her. That was before he moved of course, so we're going to have to find somewhere to put you where he can find you." You threw yourself at him, but the hook of the crane you were being held on yanked you backwards, scraping your legs across the floor creating burns on your knees and shins from the dress.

"Ooo angry, I love it. You must really love him huh? To get angry at me for something I did to his wife?" The blade was being held against your neck with the blade just touching your skin, barely cutting it but just enough to draw some blood.

"Don't think for one second that I wouldn't do this to you, because I will darling, I just want a little something from you first." He threw you forwards onto your knees again, before one of his men came up and tried to play a gag into your mouth. You were making it difficult by moving your head and biting them whenever they got to close.

"They're on their way sir," Your eyes widen as you realised that Chan was on his way, and this was all some kind plan to get him in here so Namjoon could kill him.

"I'll give you whatever it is you want just don't hurt him, please." You begged, looking at Namjoon willing to do anything to save Chan from any harm. But it was too late, the gag was placed into your mouth to stop you from talking and you whimpered, watching him get into his car and tell everyone to leave except for one of the men, Jungkook. The boy nodded, looking at you as Namjoon got into his car and pulled out of the warehouse. Jungkook pulled out his gun getting it ready for any kind of fight Chan might put up.

"He doesn't mean it, he's just-" You stared at Jungkook to stop him from speaking bullshit about his boss. Namjoon and his men had all driven off an hour ago, your arms were numb from the restraints. All you wanted to do was go home to Chan and sleep everything away like it was some kind of bad dream.

"You're sure she's here? We've been here for an hour!"  Chan's voice yelled out as he walked through the halls of the giant warehouse to find you. The place had been like a maze to get into but there was one clear exit at the back. You looked at the door as you heard hushed tones. Jungkook's hand was on his gun and you started screaming under the gag to try and make sure they could hear you, trying to warn them that you weren't alone. None of this made any sense though since your voice was muffled. Namjoon knew that Chan would bring all seven of his men, so why would he then leave only one behind? It had to be some kind of trap set up to get Chan.

"Y/N!" Chan breathed seeing you knelt there. There was a quick shot and Jungkook was down on the floor bleeding from his shoulder, while Seungmin and Felix went to chain him up. You began crying heavily as Chan rushed over to you and lowered you down from the hook, your chained hands fell around his neck as you cried into him.

"They left an hour ago, you have to get out of here it's a trap." You sobbed to him and he started chuckling as he picked you up from the floor.

"A trap is what we were hoping for, get him in the car." You frowned as he began hurrying you out of the building and towards the cars that they'd come in,

"Y/n you're driving, I need to get some answers out of this one." All of the cars were identical with identical number plates, which meant he was trying to confuse Namjoon and the other boys.

"Changbin, you head east, Jisung and Minho I want you in the North, boys just drive around where they can see you but in opposite directions." They all got into their cars and Chan undid the ropes from around your wrist before handing you the keys.

You'd been driving for an hour in a circle, you had no idea where you were going, you just kept driving as Chan told you to. By the time you'd circled around again Jungkook had a bloody nose - you were pretty sure it was broken and his lip was burst in several places making it look like one big bloody mess just like your face.

"C-Chan maybe that's enough-"

"Enough?! They took you! Where did Namjoon go?!" He snapped punching Jungkook in the gut, he wasn't angry with you, he was mad at himself for going along with the plan. You flinched looking up at the road again, instead of in the mirror at Chan in the back of the car. You knew why he was doing this but it didn't make it any easier for you to watch it happen.

"C-Chan?" You stuttered, seeing headlights coming straight towards you. They were driving on your side of the road at a fast pace, so whoever it was clearly wasn't planning on moving any time soon.

"Seatbelt." You warned him, as you shifted into sixth gear and pushed your foot down onto the floor. He scrambled to put his seatbelt on, watching through the window in horror as you headed straight for the headlights before swerving at the last second drifting slightly. Your backend clipping into their car, spinning them out to the side of the road and so you began turning the car around to face them again. You slammed on the handbrake and brakes to stop yourselves from rolling into the ditch at the side of the road and Jungkook was out cold in the back from hitting his head so much.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Chan asked, watching as you slipped it back into gear and started revving the engine.

"I like the fast and furious movies," Never in a million years did you think it would ever work but everything was worth a shot. Looking at the car you realised it began to head towards you again so you panicked telling Chan who it was,

"It's Namjoon, or one of his men we have to get out of here Chan." The car in front of you began revving so much that exhaust was pouring out of the back of the car.

"Drive back to the warehouse, I'll text the guys." You slammed the car into reverse and began driving backwards instead of heading right up to their car. Having no idea what Chan's plan was, you followed his orders getting back onto the main road and driving normally.

"Give it up." Jungkook mumbled drooling blood down onto the floor behind your seat. He'd woken up about twenty minutes into your drive and began telling you how dumb this plan was, that you wouldn't get away from Namjoon. You pushed the brakes when you saw Namjoon standing in the doorway to the warehouse from before, the four cars that had begun tailing you blocked you at every exit point. You shut off the engine, throwing the keys onto the floor to give yourself an easy give up to him.

"Y/n-" You didn't let Chan finish talking, you just got out of the car and put your hands up.

"What do you want Chan so badly for?"

"I just want everything that he's got, the money, the house, the girl, he doesn't deserve it." You walked closer to Namjoon with your hands behind your head. What had Chan ever done to this guy to make him hate him so much? You only knew about property takings and drug deals but nothing warranted killing his wife.

"If you get it will you leave him alone?" He shrugged his shoulders,

"Possibly." You needed a definite answer before you gave yourself away to save Chan. You needed him to be safe. Even if he didn't love you back, you still loved him and you do what you can to protect the ones you love.

"I want your word." You demanded and Namjoon held his hand on his heart while holding up the other in the air.

"I promise I won't harm a single hair on his head if you come with me." You looked down at the ground before over your shoulder at Chan. Who was begging you not to leave him as he got out of the car, several guns being aimed at him as soon as he did.

"Then let him leave." Namjoon nodded his head, all six of his men stood down and Chan rushed to your side holding onto your hand. He was begging you not to do it in silence, looking into your eyes, he'd only just gotten you back he couldn't lose you now.

"It saves you, just leave okay? I'm out of your hair now, I'm gone. You don't have to worry about last night or anything, I'll be fine." He cupped your face in his hands, looking deep into your eyes trying to search for any sign that you wanted him to rescue you, but your eyes were dead. It was like someone had shut off the light behind them and you weren't you anymore, not the one he'd fallen for anyway, but you had to be this way. You had to come across as cold to be able to let him go so he could be safe.

"Y/n, come on now dear." Namjoon purred, and you sniffled looking into Chan's eyes and mouthing goodbye as you walked over to Namjoon.

Everything happened far too quickly, you and Namjoon had been walking towards the warehouse where his car was waiting. When gunshots began to sound, being fired in every direction, Namjoon was on the floor next to you bleeding out from his leg as whoever got him shot him close to one of the main arteries. He began whimpering and coughing up blood onto the floor beside him so you moved away,

"Y/N GET DOWN!" You dropped to the floor upon hearing Chan's voice in a panic, he was freaking out after he heard the shots being fired. Changbin and the rest of the boys all came to find you once they never got a call from Chan to signal an all clear, you scrambled to hide behind something that was in the warehouse and Chan lost you in the fight. Guns were firing too quickly for you to even hear anything that was being yelled.

"Changbin?" You questioned, as he came over to you to make sure you were okay. He shot off directly behind you, causing a body landing next to your feet, you tried not to scream as you saw Jungkook on the floor dead. Changbin looked at you and smiled sadly as he realised you were scared.

"Sorry for leaving you there-" He shot off again and you screamed holding your hands over your ears, the guns being too loud for you.

"Y/n?!" Chan sounded panicked, but you stood up once the shooting stopped. The only thing filling the air was the sound of whimpering, he smiled at you rushing to your side. Everyone that had been working for Namjoon was on the floor either dead or in serious need of some medical attention,

"You okay? I heard you scream." His hands were turning your head from side to side to look at the marks Namjoon had left you with earlier. You shook your head promising him that you were fine and that Changbin had just scared you by shooting someone from behind you.

"Are you okay?!" You asked, looking at him as he cupped your face in his hands, he bent down to kiss you when another shot rang out through the air. The room seemed to fall into a deathly silence as Chan sank down to the floor knees first as he dropped his gun,

"C-Chan?!" You panicked, kneeling down beside him his white shirt was covered in blood as the bullet had ripped through his body and came out of the other side. It had hit his kidney and something else causing him to bleed out profusely.

"CHANGBIN!!" You shrieked at him to come over to you, you had no idea what to do but he was the closest one to you and he had just shot the person who had shot Chan. Your hands were pressing down on the bullet wound Chan had, Jisung rushed over to you, pushing your hands down on him as well. Applying pressure to a wound was the best option, but blood was sputtering out between your fingers.

"I know it hurts but we have to keep-" You tried to tell him it would be fine as long as you kept the pressure on it.

"It's not hurting Y/n." Even as he was dying he wasn't whimpering or crying, he just accepted that this was happening.

"J-Jisung what's happening?" You whimpered when the blood kept pouring out, it must have hit the main artery for it to be bleeding this badly and this quickly just like Namjoon on the floor.

"Get an ambulance!" You screamed at Jeongin, who was now hovering above his leader who was struggling to breathe now. Jisung kept the pressure on Chan as Chan weakly took your hands into his and stared at you.

"It's okay to love me you know, please love me." Your eyes teared up as he begged you to love him, as if you weren't already madly in love with him.

"I do love you Chan, which is why you have to stay with me, come on. CHANGBIN! AMBULANCE!" You screamed, but Chan's hand on yours tightened as he tried to get your attention back on him/ He wanted you to focus on just him, he stared into your eyes as you began to sob heavily.

"Don't cry, hey. You're way too pretty to be crying." You sniffled as he reached his hand up shakily and ran his thumb under your eye.

"I'm madly in love with you Chan okay, so you're not allowed to die on me." He choked on some of the blood that was coming up into his mouth as he tried to laugh about it, and blow it off as if this was nothing.

"I love you too." His eyes travelled off behind you and you saw the light leave his eyes. You shook your head trying to shake him to bring him back, Jisung moved his hands away so he wasn't applying pressure anymore.

"You have to keep the pressure on!" You yelled, holding down onto the wound as you tried to keep Chan alive. But Jisung pulled you away from his body, as you kicked your legs trying to get closer to him again, he struggled to keep you back.

"He's gone Y/n, he's gone." He whispered, moving you away as you screamed, wiggling around as you tried to run over to him. You were covered in his blood and watched in horror as Changbin covered his body up with a blazer, looking at Jisung shaking his head to declare that Chan was gone.

"Get her back to the house, get her cleaned up we'll take care of this." Minho walked over to Jisung and helped him to get you into the car, since you were still screaming with tears gushing down your cheeks. It was a struggle as you continued to try and free yourself out of their hands, yelling and crying about wanting to be with Chan instead of back at the house alone, you didn't want to go home without him.

"There's a problem," Changbin said as you sat in the office, you were staring down at the photographs of Chan as they all spoke about that night. You were still sitting there in the dress that was covered in his and your blood, they'd tried to get you to shower but you wouldn't move.

"Namjoon can't be found, we think he got away when Chan got shot." You frowned looking at him, you could remember Namjoon on the floor clear in your head. He was right next to you when he went down, he had to be dead or Chan would have died for nothing.

"I saw him on the floor." You whispered, looking up at Changbin who just shook his head.

"Not dead." He whispered, you let out a sob as you looked over at the door to see Minho and Jeongin walking into the room. You'd wanted it to be Chan but it wasn't, it was clear they'd both been crying though as they wiped their eyes.

"Everything will be ready for the funeral, just like he'd ordered." You looked at them and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"He had all of this stuff planned?" They nodded and you wiped your eyes on your hands when you saw the blood, it was starting to sink in now that he was gone.

"You should get some sleep," Changbin stated, coming over to you and helping you stand up from the giant chair. He walked you towards your room but you shook your head not wanting to be in there tonight or any night ever again.

"I want to sleep in his bed." You whimpered, walking to the door and opening it. The room was freezing and dark, so you flicked the switch on lightening up the room as you looked inside; everything was just how he'd left it that morning as if he was coming home any minute.

"I'll leave you to it." The door shut and you walked further inside going over to his en-suite to have a shower, you had to get out of the dress that was covered in his blood and wash everything off from that night. You stripped down, throwing it into a basket and stepped into the hot water. The floor of the shower turned red and you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, as you realised it was Chan's blood more than your own.

You climbed into the bed after your shower, wearing one of his white work shirts and stared around the room, it felt empty without him being there next to you. The night before had been so peaceful even if it was when you rushed into the room scared of the storm, he was there which was what made it better than the cold dark room you were in now. You arranged the pillows so it would be as if he was there and you snuggled down into them and cried softly as you could smell him still on the sheets, at least you still had his smell for now. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @moonprincessdiviniation​ (my wonderful editor who wants me dead) @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @hugs4chan​ @ncitythoughts @inseonqt​ @cloudsgathering​ @atletino​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​ @freckledquokka​ @happygirl327​ @seraplantery​ @km-98​

[pastelsandpining]

Belongings

A BotW Post-Calamity Zelink hurt/comfort one shot

Summary: Zelda struggles to find her place in this time she should not be a part of, and she doesn’t understand how Link makes it look so easy.

Words: 8156

Warnings: blood mention, depression, honestly not sure what else to add here so proceed with caution and let me know of anything I need to tag!

tagging @etiquetteemotions :) I hope you enjoy!

When she watched him, she wanted to be upset that he couldn’t remember everything. It wasn’t his fault of course, and she knew he was probably facing deep turmoil for it, but she still cried out for the knight she fell in love with. Yet she couldn’t be upset, because he smiled now. He seemed so free of the burden on his shoulders all that time ago. He smiled and laughed and talked.

But it was never with her. Not the way it was with everyone else. 

She saw how he interacted with Sidon and Riju and Yunobo and Paya. She saw how he spoke to stablemen and village people. She saw how his smile was wider, his eyes were brighter, and it was a stark contrast to when he was with her. 

At least, she thought so. Because when he looked at her, his eyes seemed distant. His smiles didn’t reach her heart like they used to. And when he touched her or held her or did anything of the sort, he was so careful. Like he was afraid she’d break apart if he were to touch her in any other way.

There were many times when Zelda felt like she would never fit in with this new life. That she would never connect with Link in his Hateno house, or fit in with all of his new friends, or be anything other than Princess Zelda. Sure, helping Purah and Robbie with research and talking with Impa brought her back down to Hyrule—made her believe that it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. But then she would return to Link’s home, eat dinner across from what might as well have been an empty chair, and lay in bed, feeling the hopelessness wrap around her like a weighted blanket. 

Some nights, she would feel Link’s arms hugging her ever so gently, and she’d think that maybe it wasn’t so bad.

And then the morning would come and she would wake up alone. 

Maybe it was her. Maybe she’d just become... unreachable. With nothing but the Calamity to keep her company for a century, maybe she’d changed without realizing it. Or maybe she was just a reminder to everyone about what the Calamity had done—how she failed them all the first time. Had it not been for Link, Hyrule would’ve been devastated beyond hope of returning.

The Hero of Hyrule. The savior of them all. Even her. 

And after a century of growing doubts and fading hope, she supposed she would be different too. But her difference didn’t come with the freedom his did. Because Link had done everything right up until the very end. She did nothing right until there was nothing left to do.

There was nothing left to do. No pieces to pick up and put back together—not here. Not in Hateno. 

And after staring at a page filled with scratch outs and unfinished sentences, Zelda decided there was really nothing she could say. Nothing but a sincere thank you, and a hope that his life of newfound freedom would bring him nothing but happiness. So that was all that she left behind. 

Her hands were scraped and blistered from the hours she spent yanking at rubble, at the cave in that cut off the entrance to her bedroom. It was the first place she wanted to see, even though she couldn’t imagine it looked very good. Link said he’d gotten in through climbing, but she certainly didn’t have the upper body strength to climb the tower to her study. She was left with no choice but to use a rusty old sword she’d found to try and help her loosen the rocks and stone and dirt. And she’d done a decent enough job too, or at least that’s what she wanted to believe. The most she’d done was get the rubble to crumble and slide just enough for her to be able to squeeze between the top of the pile and the ceiling. 

Zelda let out a slight scream when the rock beneath her hand gave out and she went sliding head first down the rubble, into her room.

It was completely trashed, which she’d sort of expected. But seeing it was a different story. Her living space, what she’d called home for her whole life, was reduced to practically nothing. Her bed had collapsed in on itself, her papers and books were yellowed and ripped, the staircase to her study was completely gone, and it looked so sad and empty. Yet she had seen so much destruction that she could not bring herself to mourn any more than she already had. 

She ran her fingers through the layer of dust on her vanity. Her mirror was cracked, and spiders had taken over. Her rugs were torn and looked to be burnt up, and the only thing that looked truly intact was the Royal Guard’s Bow above her fireplace, that Link had gifted her a century ago.

She peered out to her balcony, and then up at the missing staircase. Going to her study was out of the question entirely, so she supposed she’d have to wait until the staircase was rebuilt. At least she still had her journal, which Link was kind enough to recover for her. 

She busied herself by carefully pulling down the time-worn papers above her desk. The edges crumbled under her fingers, but her writings and drawings remained untouched—other than the fading. She set them down on her desk in a neat stack and gathered the ones from the floor, then set the paperweight on top of them. Then she got to work on pulling her small, circular table back upright. She pulled the yellowed table cloth off of it and tossed it into a corner. Soon, the pieces of broken chair joined it. 

Her bed was going to be a little tougher to deal with, so she stuck to small things for now. Picking up what rubble she could, using the sword to knock down spider webs, throwing everything she didn’t want to keep into the pile. But it didn’t look like she’d done anything. Maybe her room was also too far gone for her to do anything with.

But to rebuild everything from start..? 

No, not for her room or study. She could manage. But the rest of the castle—she could gather people willing to help. Gorons, Sheikah—all of Hyrule could help if they were willing.

She could invite the Sheikah to return and implement their technology—or at least encourage them to return to creating, and use that in the restoration of Hyrule. She could take the kingdom a step further than it was before, bring it into an entire new age with the help of those her family had wronged.

With the ideas filling in her head, Zelda fished her journal from the bag she carried and quickly scribbled down everything she was thinking of. 

Gorons to help get rid of the rubble. The Bolson Construction Company could work with the Sheikah to create new floor plans and interior designs. The Zora could bring their designs in too, and incorporate the beautiful luminous stones that lit their architecture.

But how would she go about bringing this up to them? She would have to go up to all of the leaders individually—which was not an issue, since she’d been considering going to each region to propose the permanent station of the Divine Beasts as memorials for the Champions. That would be another thing to the list. 

Zelda paced in her room, relaxing into something that felt familiar to her. Brainstorming, keeping herself busy. She could bring in Purah and Robbie to help rebuild the Research Lab too, which sent a flood of excitement through her.

Maybe once she thought she could stay away, but this was where she belonged. She had a duty to her people, to her kingdom, and she refused to fail them again. She refused to sit idly because of what she’d been through. She wasn’t the only one, so she had no right to sit and sulk. Hyrule needed her.

Didn’t it..?

Zelda’s pacing slowed, and she looked back towards the pile of rubble with a frown.

Did Hyrule need her?

Now that the threat of Calamity Ganon was gone, was she really of any use? A century without rule seemed to do Hyrule just fine—even if the kingdom was only beginning to recover. The four regions were thriving well on their own, under their own leaders. And the remaining Hylians—what did they truly need her for? Other than reconstruction, but even then, did they need her for that? She could propose ideas all she wanted, but she could do very little with her hands. 

And now that it was safe for Hyrule to begin rebuilding, who’s to say they wouldn’t? Who’s to say they wouldn’t rebuild on their own? There were brilliant minds out there that didn’t need her permission or her ideas.

Zelda took a slow seat into the red velvet chair and looked around her crumbling room again. 

Did she not belong here either..?

There was no one. Her father—everyone within the castle walls had perished when Ganon rose. Sadness and bloodshed were embedded deep in the walls of this place. There was no one left to tell her how to be a queen, how to rebuild a kingdom. She’d spent her entire life devoted to awakening a sealing power that came all too late. Her father had been right, it seemed. She was an heir to a throne of nothing. Nothing but failure. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have come back. But if she was the heir, didn’t she owe it to the kingdom to rot alongside that nothing? To be reminded of her failure everywhere she looked? 

She didn’t realize she was crying, screaming her voice raw, clutching her father’s journal to her chest, begging aloud to deaf ears—like she’d done for years. What she would give to feel her mother’s hugs, or Urbosa’s comfort again. What she would do to see her father again, even if he were looking down at her in his disappointment. What she would do to have someone, anyone left to guide her. 

To get an answer from Hylia about what to do now that they had won. 

But no one would hear her. 

Zelda curled up in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest, and leaned her head against the top of it. She was reduced to gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes shut, as if that would stop the flow of tears.

It was getting dark now. She’d spent hours here, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Where would she even go if she did? 

It was getting colder. In regular circumstances, she would have someone light her fireplace. But this was not regular circumstances, and there was no one left to do anything. 

She must’ve cried herself to sleep, because she certainly didn’t remember going willingly. But instead of the nightmares, she was left with a dull ache. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but nothing.

———

When Link returned from hunting to find his house empty, he knew something was amiss. There was a sense of loneliness—the same one that filled the house when he first bought it. He didn’t quite know what to make of it, but he tried not to make assumptions. As much as he wanted to protect her, to not lose her again, he also didn’t want her to feel suffocated. Perhaps she just wanted to take a breather.

But it didn’t feel like Zelda had just gone on a short outing. It felt more like standing among a village of ruins. It felt sad and dull, like the life that once filled it took all the color with it when it left. There was something she brought with her to Hateno, and that something was gone now. Maybe he was simply overreacting, and he would find her at the lab with Purah. 

She would come back later.

Except, the minutes turned into hours and she still hadn’t returned. Link became restless, and he took his horse up to the lab to check for himself. But Purah said that Zelda hadn’t come by at all that day. 

Link raced back to his house to search for any sign of where she might’ve gone, but what he found made him feel nauseous. In her neat handwriting were the words:

Thank you for all you have done.

I wish nothing but happiness for you, and that a day will come where we can meet again.

He read the message over and over again, desperate to pry some other meaning out of it, but it was useless. He knew what she meant by this. 

From the weeks he’d spent with Zelda, to the memories he recovered of her, he knew this wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her to disappear, or hold back whatever was on her mind. He saw how hesitant, how closed off she’d become since she gained freedom, but he always hoped that maybe she’d talk to him eventually. He shared stories of his journey, took her to see everything he’d seen, in the hopes that she would someday feel comfortable enough to speak. He never wanted to force her.

But maybe he should’ve, because she was gone.

Link didn’t bother grabbing anything other than his gear before taking off towards Kakariko. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to be hiding with Impa, but he was going to need help. 

There was only one other place she could be, but he struggled to imagine why she would return to the castle alone. Why she would suddenly leave without a word. Had he done something? Did he say something that made her want to leave? Did she feel trapped? 

He didn’t know, because she hadn’t talked to him. 

It was dusk by the time Link was finally able to set out for the castle, accompanied by Purah, Symin, Paya, and Impa. He’d been weary about so many people at first, but he let it slide for the sake of finding her before something happened. Sure, he made sure to kill every monster he found when he explored the castle, but there was no way of knowing if other monsters found their way in. Or people looking to find treasure. Or anything, really. Did she even know of the danger she was in?

Of course she did. He needed to give her a little more credit. She faced Ganon alone. Surely she could take a few monsters, or people, right? There were weapons in the castle, scattered everywhere. She would be fine, right? 

Still, Link urged Epona to go faster. They raced past Dueling Peaks, through Central Hyrule, through the gates of the castle. 

“Go,” urged Impa at his hesitation, with a nod towards the tower he’d climbed what felt both like yesterday, and a year ago. “We’ll find our way. Take this. Go find her.”

Link took the damp towel and bandages into his hands and slipped them into his bag before turning on his heel and sprinting towards the tower. He knew at the top would be the study, and the bridge that led to her room. Would she be there..? He couldn’t imagine how she’d accessed it, but no one knew this castle better than Zelda. He was sure there were ways in even he didn’t know about.

The pattern of the stone bricks underneath his hands and feet were familiar as he scaled his way up the tower, going as fast as he could. With no guardians to shoot him down, he was able to reach the midpoint and use Revali’s Gale to get him the rest of the way—at least, to the open window. The study looked as empty and depressing as ever. Zelda was not in here, though he wasn’t surprised. The stairway was broken, after all.

The bridge was empty too, so Link continued on to the princess’s room. 

He could spot her from a mile away. Even if it was dark, and he was descending slowly on his paraglider, he saw her curled up in that dusty chair. Part of him wondered how she got in, and the other part broke upon closer look. She was asleep, but still she looked troubled—almost like she’d been crying. And—was that her father’s journal, in her hands?

And oh, her hands. He crouched besides the chair and gently took hold of one of her wrists. He pulled it gently to him, causing her to only stir, and examined it up close.

Years of climbing experience made him recognize the blisters, but she hadn’t climbed. No, because there was dirt underneath her fingernails and under the torn skin, and there were scrapes caked with dry blood. A glance towards the rubble pile outside the doorway confirmed his suspicions. She’d dug her way in.

Link looked back to her hand and gently pressed the towel to it. She flinched away and was awake in seconds, her wide eyes searching over him like she couldn’t believe them. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Link,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “I-“

“Your hands,” he stated, holding one of his own out. “They’ll get infected.”

Wordlessly, Zelda placed her hand back in his. Her father’s journal rested on her lap in favor of the Sheikah Slate, which she tapped away at with her free hand. Link only looked up when he heard the familiar warping sound of an item. 

“Here,” she said softly, holding out a glass bottle filled with water. Link took it with a quiet “thanks” and dumped some on the cloth, figuring he could ask about herbs for medicine later. The priority right now was cleaning the wounds.

He dabbed at one of her palms, mumbling an apology whenever she would wince. He knew from experience that it stung, and it made him feel even worse. And the silence—it was more agonizing by the second. So he tried to fill it.

“You tidied up,” he said, nodding his head towards the trash pile.

“Hardly,” Zelda replied. “All I really managed was stacking some papers.”

“And that, if I recall correctly, is new.”

Her smile was weak and small, and hardly sincere. It didn’t belong on her lovely face. He took care with wrapping her hand and fingers, for an excuse to hold onto her a little longer. 

“I think if there wouldn’t have been a Moblin in here, it wouldn’t be as bad,” he continued, thinking back on what a scare it’d given him originally. The last thing he’d expected to find in her bedroom, a place that was supposed to be so private and safe, was a monster. But then again, a monster had long since taken over her home. “They don’t have the best manners.” 

“A Moblin?” Zelda asked, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Not sure how it got in,” Link said with a shrug, wetting the cloth again so he could begin cleaning her other hand. 

“A century is a long time,” she replied, her voice breaking just enough to make his fingers twitch with the urge to hold her hands tighter. “There’s really no way to know if the collapse happened during... or later on. It could have found its way in at any point. You mentioned monsters of all sorts infested nearly every room.”

“Not your study. I wish I could take you see it, Zel.”

She was quiet. Link looked up at her to find her gazing at the missing staircase, but he didn’t know if she was actually seeing, or if she was lost in thought. He watched her for a moment, wondering just how much she was thinking of. What memories she must have been replaying—if they were ones he no longer had, if they included him at all. He knew he had been in her study with her at least once, if not multiple times all those years ago. Maybe he used to help her research, or kept her company while she did. He wanted to take her to her study, show her the Silent Princess that bloomed right in the middle. He could remember her mentioning prior attempts to grow them domestically and save them from extinction. Did it result from an attempt of her own, only able to actually flourish a century later?

Link returned his eyes to her hand. It was cold against his, despite what the red, irritated, and torn skin suggested. He tried to stay as gentle as possible as he wiped the grime and blood away, feeling worse every time her hand stiffened in pain. The silence was getting to him again, as was the still overhanging question of what drove her here.

“Zel..” he spoke. If she looked his way, he didn’t know. He busied himself with wrapping her hand. “I would’ve come with you.. You didn’t have to come back here alone.”

“It’s home,” she whispered out. Link glanced up at her, holding her hand just a little tighter.

“I know,” he said. “But home doesn’t have to be just one place.”

Zelda did not reply, but he could faintly hear his name being shouted. He’d nearly forgotten about the others, and clearly Zelda was as shocked as he was. But he stood from his position, letting her hand go at last, and jogged to the pile of rubble.

“—in there?” someone said, muffled by the wall of filth.

“We’re in here,” Link called back, wincing at how loud he sounded. “There’s a hole in the top that you can squeeze though, or we can try to remove more of the cave in.”

He thought he heard something like “stand back”, but he wasn’t sure until he heard a loud crash, and rubble began sliding down towards him. He backed up just in time to miss being pelted by a large rock and the rush of dirt and dust behind it. He coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to try and disperse the cloud it had created. 

“This’ll take a lot more force to clean up entirely,” came the voice of Purah after a coughing fit of her own. 

“We’ll manage,” replied Impa. Once the dust settled, the four were able to enter the bedroom at last. Link gave them all a polite nod and turned back to Zelda, who was staring at them as if they were ghosts. She looked pale.

He crouched before her again and raised the cloth to her face. When she didn’t move to pull away, he started wiping at the grime and scratches.

“This is quite the place to run off to when you’re upset,” spoke Impa again. She sounded far closer than she had before and Link had to keep his surprise that she could move that fast at bay. 

“It’s home,” Zelda repeated, adverting her eyes. Though this time, something about her voice gave away that she didn’t believe it. 

“Maybe once, a long time ago,” Impa said. 

Link raised a hand to Zelda’s cheek, holding her still while he wiped at a scratch on her forehead. She was making a point to avoid looking at anyone. She looked a little guilty, too, though he couldn’t think of why. 

“We can rebuild,” Purah promised, standing to the side of the cushioned chair. “Really, your room isn’t that far gone at all. And most of the castle structure is still intact—at least, the parts we can get to. Really, Princess, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“That’s kind of you,” Zelda replied, but she shook her head. “But reconstruction will take years.”

“It’s not impossible,” Purah argued, grabbing the arm of the chair with her little hands. 

Link slowly lowered his hands now that Zelda’s face was, for the most part, clean. He capped what remained in the bottle and set it aside, reaching instead for the Sheikah Slate. When she didn’t stop him, he placed a hesitant hand on her knee and got to work looking through their gathered materials. He could make a healing potion for her hands with the right parts.

“No,” Zelda agreed, leaning back in the chair. “But it’s long and tedious and.. and we— I do not deserve your help.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at his princess with a frown. He wasn’t the only one, but her eyes remained stubbornly glued to the floor. An overwhelming desire to see those green eyes sparkle with happiness once again hit him, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Was it even his place?

“The concept of being ‘deserving’ of anything is silly,” spoke up Paya. Her voice was soft and rushed, like she were nervous to be speaking up to a princess. Link didn’t blame her. He felt like that too, in the beginning. “I’m sorry, Princess, but everyone deserves kindness, regardless of what they themselves think. To imply that they don’t is to say that they’re not.. human.”

“Paya is right, dear child. But I can think of no one more deserving of a comfortable home and happiness than you,” Impa said. 

Zelda looked like she was trembling. Link set down the Slate and gently took her bandaged hands in his own. Only then did she look at him, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight tore his heart in half. 

“Talk to us,” he whispered, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “To me. Please.”

He wished he could read her mind, soothe whatever fight she seemed to be having with herself. But all he could do as tears slipped down her cheeks was kneel upright against the chair and wrap her in a hug. And the journal she kept in her lap fell to the floor when she pressed closer, holding parts of his shirt in tight fists. He held her tighter, hoping just maybe, he could keep the remaining pieces of her together. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Link shook his head.

“Don’t apologize, please. You have nothing to be sorry for. But if there’s anything I can do-“ 

“Link, you’ve done so much.” She was looking at him again, like he were some kind of grand hero. He was, according to almost all of Hyrule. But when she addressed him as such, and looked at him as such, it was different. Like he were her hero, and hers alone. Sometimes, he wished he were. “Really, there is nothing more for you to do.”

“I can be here, with you. If you really wanted to come back, I would’ve come with you.” 

He felt like he was begging. Begging for her to still give him a place in her life. For how confused he’d been when his journey began, he felt so inexplicably complete when he finally got her back. He wanted to feel that way again—wanted her to know that feeling if she didn’t already. But he would struggle greatly with acceptance if she didn’t want his help.

“Why come back?” she asked, pulling back from his embrace and leaving him empty. She looked so sad. “The heir to a throne of nothing. Is that really who you want to follow?”

He could still hear those words, spoken originally in the gruff voice of the king. At the time, Link found him to be acting as neither a king or a father. It was cruel, to spit those words in a sixteen-year-old’s face. To relay to her what the gossip mongers said behind her back, to imply that they were correct in some sort of way. She tried all she could, but they refused to let her be of any help outside of her supposed destiny. Little did they know her destiny involved facing a great evil alone, locking herself away for over a century. And yet, all these years later, those words still bit deeply into her. Did she truly believe them? After all she had done?

Link had never once believed in those words. Though he was as clueless as anyone else on why the goddess remained silent, he instead believed that she would save them all. Her worth and ability were never tied to any sacred power. Not to him, not to her friends, and not to her father. It was just a shame the king picked so late to act like one.

He reached up to hold her face again, trying to get her to look at him. 

“I follow the princess who cared so much about her kingdom that she sealed herself away with evil incarnate for over a century. I follow the princess who worked tirelessly to fulfill her duty. I follow the princess who knelt in freezing waters for hours at a time to pray on deaf ears. I follow the princess who did everything she could, and not just because she was told to.”

“You follow a princess who killed you and countless others with her inability to do her job,” she spat, but there was no venom to her words. She just sounded.. tired. Link shook his head again, racking his brain for the right thing to say. What had he said back then, in moments like these? What would work to comfort a broken soul? 

“Please.” He was begging again. He was desperate, because her coming here alone meant more than what she was saying. “Please don’t blame yourself for the things Ganon caused. I hate to admit it Zel, but we were fucked regardless whether or not you unlocked your powers. But they don’t blame you—and neither do I.”

“But why don’t you?” Zelda asked, finding a grip on his shirt once again. “I was so cruel to you, so jealous of you.. and in the end... I don’t understand.”

“I took a vow to protect you with my life, Zelda.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones, wishing he could get rid of her unshed tears that easily. “And I’d do it again. Without hesitation. Wherever you go, I will be there.”

Because without her, it felt so very empty. Even with the friendships he’d made along the way. And the why evaded him until he’d come to understand that it was better left unspoken. And the weeks spent with her in Hateno, while they tried to adjust to this world neither of them were really a part of, was when the pieces of the puzzle fell together. 

“That vow was made as a knight to a princess and a king, in preparation for the Calamity. There is no threat. There is no more king. And there is hardly a princess. But should you need it, I, Princess Zelda of Hyrule, officially release you from your vows.”

Link shook his head again, as if it could prevent the words from reaching his brain, his heart.

He felt like she was slipping right through his fingers. Just as she had with every memory along the way. One minute she would be there with her green eyes and warm, sunny smile, or annoyed glare, or concentrated expression. Then he would open his eyes and find himself alone, with any lingering warmth fleeting to join her in the castle, locked far away from him. He would look towards the castle and think of nothing but her. This Zelda that he knew long ago, this voice that compelled him to find her, this Princess that a century ago, he had fallen in love with and given his life for. And maybe his memories were fragmented, and maybe he’d never get them all back, but he was certain of that much.

“I made a promise to protect you, Zelda, princess or not. Because I want to. So if this is where you want to be,” he freed a hand to gesture to the room around them, “then I will be there too.”

“You belong to the wild,” Zelda replied simply, bringing her hands to cover his. “I can’t take you away from that.”

“Then stay with me there, please. Or, or with Impa in Kakariko, or Purah in the lab. Anything is better than here, cold and alone.” She had to know that. To return to a place of nightmares...to consider staying... Link was so afraid she was too far gone, and they hadn’t caught anything until she’d broken. 

Zelda peeled his hands from her face and shook her head. Link couldn’t find the right words, and he’d never felt so hopeless before.

“I’m afraid,” began Impa, joining them at the chair. Her wrinkled hands covered theirs. Link hoped with all his heart that they were bringing warmth back to her icy fingertips. “That her century with malice has driven the light from her mind. Princess, why have you convinced yourself that what you want is unreachable?”

Zelda recoiled at the question. Link tightened his hold on her hands ever so slightly, because he felt her trying to slip away again. 

“There are times when the darkness can extinguish the light,” she replied, tearing her green eyes away. 

“And the blame for that does not fall on your shoulders, sweet child. In fact, Hyrule would not have been able to recover at all, had it not been for your selflessness. The horrors you endured, sealed away with a beast, are something we cannot ever understand. But we can recognize that without you, Hyrule would have fallen completely to Ganon’s control. When you focus solely on your stubborn power, you ignore the other things you were able to do. Without your help, the Champions would have been unable to master their Divine Beasts.”

“The Champions are dead,” Zelda repeated, her voice trembling again. Link knew the feeling, and goddesses, how he wished he could grant her the closure he’d received. He found himself praying, begging out for Urbosa to somehow come to her aid, appear to her and let her know in a way he couldn’t that it was alright. 

“The Champions knew just what and how much they were risking when they answered your call, Princess. You chose well. But I’m afraid Link is right, Ganon would have taken them out even if you had awakened your power. The beast was prepared for our attack, and I’m afraid by following our ancestors so closely, we doomed ourselves. But the blame for that does not fall upon you.”

“But if I had just worked harder, if I had done more, prayed harder, then maybe-“

“Zelda,” Impa said, her voice stern. Even Link felt like he was being scolded, and he was nothing more than a bystander. “You gave all your efforts and in the end, prayer was hardly what woke your power.”

Her eyes drifted to Link. She looked defeated, because she did know. And so did he. When Kass relayed to him the song, he’d nearly cried. It wouldn’t have been the first of the tears shed on his journey. And it wasn’t the first time he’d learned of a princess doing something out of her love for him. He remembered quite clearly when he found out—how he spent that night asking into empty air if it were true. No answer ever came to him. 

“I know,” Zelda replied at last, ducking her head and instead looking at their hands. In two simple words, his answer had come.

“Then I trust you to make the decision you believe is best for you. But no decision should be made at this hour. I suggest we get some sleep before dawn’s light is upon us.” Impa’s hands lifted, and with a simple gesture to Paya, they disappeared through the rubble at the doorway.

“If you ever need a place to go, or someone to talk to about ideas, my door is always open. But I have to agree with my sister on this one. You should get some rest, and make your decision in the morning.” And Purah and Symin were gone as well.

Now that they were alone, Link wished he knew what to say. He wished he could leave it at that and tell her to get some sleep. But he couldn’t.

“I still don’t understand,” he said, releasing her hands so he could dig in his pockets. Zelda lifted her head to look at him, and he held up the piece of paper she’d torn out of her diary. The writing that was burned into his brain. “Why?” 

She lowered her gaze again, but she did not answer. 

“I thought you might’ve been at the lab with Purah,” Link continued to fill the silence. “And then I thought maybe you went to Kakariko, but Impa said she hadn’t seen you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said softly. Her eyes were fixed on the dirty rug beneath her chair, but he could tell she was looking far past that.

“Why didn’t you talk to me..? Or say goodbye, at the very least?”

“I just.. I couldn’t,” she admitted, hugging her arms. “It would’ve made it harder.”

“How long have you been thinking of leaving..?”

“A week or so...” 

Link let out a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. He felt guilty again, for not saying anything when he first noticed her drawing back. Maybe she thought he was disappointed, because she continued,

 “I just—I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Did something happen, Zel..?” he asked hesitantly, lifting his gaze back to her’s. It was selfish, but part of him needed to know if it was him, or the setting. “To make you want to leave, I mean. Do you not like it in Hateno?”

“No, no-! Hateno is lovely, Link.” She straightened up, reaching out a hesitant hand towards him. But she dropped it before it made any contact. “I just...”

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Link said, lifting a hand to her face, though he desperately wanted her to. “But if there’s anything you need, please let me know. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

After a moment more, he dropped his hand to his side and picked up the Slate again. He wished there was more he could say or do, to help her. But this wasn’t something he could swing a sword at and disintegrate.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t quite belong here?” she asked, ending the stretch of silence. “Like you shouldn’t be, because you belong to a different time?”

Link looked up at her, masking his surprise that she was perhaps finally speaking what was on her mind. He nodded once, but said nothing more, urging her to continue. She did.

“At first, Hyrule didn’t look much different than it had before.. But seeing Castle Town and Central Hyrule in ruin was still... so fresh. Something that took years to build and was once full of life, was destroyed in minutes. So many lives lost... And then I find this new village—two, actually, filled to the brim with life. Like the Calamity had never touched them at all. And it was so.. different.”

“A Hyrule one hundred years later,” Link said, finding her hands again. “Toeing the line between recovery and destruction. And the only thing keeping that line steady is you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said again, her hands twitching like she wanted to pull them away. “I shouldn’t be complaining when you’ve no memory of the Hyrule we were a part of all those years ago.”

“But maybe that’s a good thing,” he responded. It made her finally look at him, her eyes wide with shock. But he’d thought long and hard on it, and he was being honest.

“Link-“

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I don’t remember everything. And it hurts sometimes, that I can’t remember everything about you, and about our friends. But I don’t feel the pain that came with fighting Ganon, or fending off guardians. I don’t feel the burden of the sword. I’m.. a little more free of that trauma than you are. For a century, you sealed yourself away with nothing but evil incarnate. And you still remembered everything you had done and been through up until that moment.”

“You make it look so easy. Living in this Hyrule, I mean. You have so many friends, you seem so comfortable and at home..”

“It’s hard not to make friends when they risk their lives to help you. And I don’t think I’d be as well off if I still remembered everything. But it’s not easy. I’m living in a world I really know nothing about. And as for home, well... it didn’t feel like home. Not until you were with me and safe.”

Zelda blinked. She looked like she wanted to cry again, but Link was being more honest than he’d ever been. Yet for some reason, a fraction of hurt took over her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but he saw it.

“You hardly know me,” she said. Even she winced at that and went to apologize, but Link held her hands a little tighter and willed her to look directly at him as he spoke, pouring everything he could into his words.

“I know that you love your people so much, you faced Ganon alone. I know that you love to research and wanted to learn as much about Sheikah technology as possible. I know you faced criticism from everyone, even your own father, but you pushed yourself to your limit anyway with a silent goddess. I know you saw me as a reminder of your own failures, and I know you tried to convince me to taste a frog. I know your favorite dessert is fruit cake, I know you had a white horse you named Storm who you struggled with at first, I know Urbosa was like a second mother to you, I know Revali annoyed you just as much as he annoyed me, I know we somehow ended up as friends, and I know what woke your powers in the end.”

Zelda looked as if she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. It wasn’t impossible to believe, given he’d mentioned some things only someone who was close to her would know, but maybe that last part should’ve stayed to himself.

“Urbosa did always say it was quite obvious.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Did she tell you?”

“Kass did,” Link replied, adverting his eyes. He felt a little guilty to admit it. “The Rito Bard. His teacher, the court poet, set out to.. learn some ballads about the ancient hero, so he could help me. He mentioned it in his song. Though, now that I think about it, it was a little... rude. I mean, it’s no one’s business and..”

Zelda looked amused. Link forced himself to stop speaking, which was new. He was still getting used to a lot of things.

“Well, he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It’s better you hear it from them, than a gossip monger who has nothing better to do but impose on the life of others.”

“I’d rather hear it from you,” he replied with a shrug before he could stop himself. Even in the dim lighting of the room, he could see the way her cheeks flushed. 

“You just did,” she argued, ripping her hands away so she could cross her arms. Link held his hands up in defense. 

“All I’m saying is that having a descendant of the goddess Hylia herself love you is quite the feeling.”

“Oh, so being Zelda isn’t enough for you then? You’ve got to play the goddess card to inflate your already big head?” But there was no malice behind her words, and the faint smile on her lips was more than worth it. 

“Now I never said that,” he defended, fending off a smile of his own. “I happen to find Zelda absolutely wonderful all on her own. But having goddess powers is cool, too.”

A small giggle passed her lips. The light was returning to her eyes slowly, but progress was progress and Link was desperate to keep it up.

“I’m glad someone around here appreciates Zelda,” she joked, leaning back in her chair once again. He rested a hand on her knee and looked up at her, letting the smile onto his lips.

“Someone should tell her that she’s deserving of love, and happiness, and a fresh start too.”

Zelda’s smile was weak, but it was there. It was enough to make him swell with hope that maybe, maybe they’d figure it out eventually. But something was still eating at her. He could see it in the way she adverted her gaze again, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“What if I don’t get along with your new friends?” she asked at last. “If I don’t fit in?”

It would’ve been rude to laugh. Her fears were absolutely valid, and he took her hands again in an attempt to show that. But it was hard for him to imagine any of his friends not getting along with Zelda. She was lovely, even after years of nothingness. He was sure she would fit in perfectly.

“Sidon will absolutely, enthusiastically praise you for every little thing you do,” Link began, counting off his closest friends. “Yunobo will bow to you with your strength, maybe even ask you to help him with his own. Riju will be the little sister you never had. And Teba may be just as proud as, but he’s less openly arrogant than Revali. They will love you, I promise.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Zel, I can’t believe you’re worried about that. If you could hold the Calamity back for a century and make me fall in love with you twice, then you can easily make friends who’ll love you just as much.”

The confession he hadn’t intended on making caused a smile to tug at the corners of her lips, and Link knew maybe, finally he’d said the right thing. He gently pulled her forwards by her hands but before he could kneel to meet her, she’d joined him on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest with an unspoken promise to continue being by her side until the end of time.

“If you’re really ready to be here,” he whispered out, “then I’ll be here. But if you’re not, it’s never too late to come back home.”

Zelda pressed her face into his shoulder, and he leaned his head against hers, drawing gentle shapes on her back.

“Thank you for coming after me.”

“Of course. If I didn’t, people would think I was mad at my princess or something.”

Zelda let out a quiet laugh and he felt her hold him a little tighter. 

“What, so you only came after me to protect your reputation?” she joked, tilting her head up so she could look at him, forcing him to lift his head.

“Obviously,” Link said as he looked back down at her. “Can’t be the Hero of Hyrule if I leave their princess all alone.”

“If I recall, you did that for over a century.”

“My bad.”

Zelda laughed again, the sound bright and joyous in the empty room. It filled him with comfort, and he couldn’t help simply gazing at her, taking in every little detail he could see. Part of him wondered if he’d really forgotten her, because it felt impossible to imagine a time he didn’t know her face. Her lovely eyes, her warm smile, her infectious laugh, her pink lips—it wasn’t something that could be forgotten. A beauty like hers transcended that. 

“I meant it when I said thank you for everything,” she said with a small smile. “Hyrule really is in your debt.”

“I would do it again and again.” Without thinking, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was lucky for him that her love lasted over a century. 

“Get some sleep,” she said softly, tugging the cushion from the chair and tossing it behind him. “You must be exhausted.”

“I slept for a hundred years. I think I’ll be fine,” he replied, but laid back and rested his head on the cushion anyway. Zelda laid gently on top of him, resting her head against his chest. Link folded his arms around her and took a deep breath so her scent enveloped him again. Her fingers tapped against his shoulder, keeping time with his heartbeat. He knew, just as he had for a while, that they were right where they needed to be. He couldn’t speak for Zelda, but he knew that he belonged with her, no matter what life it was.

And he closed his eyes, missing the dawn’s light peaking over the horizon.

Masterlist

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 8

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link!

Summary: What makes them tick, what gets under their skin, our villain wants to find out. Let’s see.

Warnings: These characters are going through it, the warnings on AO3 for Blood and Injury, Childhood Trauma, and Emotional/Psychological Abuse start here.

Author’s note: it has been almost 72 hours since Revenge of the Spider Queen aired in English and now I can finally post this. MINOR SPOILERS INSIDE (and in future chapters).

Chapter 8: Endurance Test

Red Son took a half step back, trying to take stock of his surroundings and keep his breathing steady at the same time. MK and Mei had to be somewhere nearby, he didn't know precisely how the Calabash worked but he could make a pretty decent assumption based on their experiences so far and what Jin had told them. This was all perception, a trick of the virtual reality simulation peaking into his brain and showing him an approximate visage of what he had experienced before. He was not truly back in one of the worst day's of his life...

And it was painfully obvious with the less than conspicuous absence of his mother. He remembered this day well, far too well perhaps, and his mother should still be standing behind him on his left. Not even the fairest hint of her wind was there to suggest she had ever left or been there in the first place. Was she there before? He had been too distracted by hearing his father repeat those possessed words again to know.

"And what do you think you're doing?" That same voice growled out lowly, sending a shudder up Red Son's spine that only intensified as DBK's blue glowing eyes settled on him. "Sneaking away?"

"No!" Red Son answered quickly, standing straighter and shaking his head with a forced smile. It came so easy, too easy, too fast, like he was slipping into an old habit. It was an old habit. "No, father, I-"

"Don't lie to me," DBK growled. "I don't trust anything you say. Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure time and time again, nothing but disappointment!"

He'd heard the words before, he thought he had moved past them, but as he heard his father speak down to him again he found himself repeating the past. Standing tense and clenching his fist and feeling his sharp teeth clench against his lip, threatening to break the skin with the taste of copper and there was ice flowing down his neck-

"Traitor-yes! Perhaps..." And then he remembered what was to come next, eyes widening in fear as his father turned more fully toward him and his mother wasn't there. "You thought you could deceive me? Stand against me!?"

Red Son felt himself scream at his body to move to run to shield himself to do anything but he just watched in terror as his father's not his father no he wouldn't do this fist slammed right into his face and-

He was pulling his own fist back from his face, about to send one more punch into it before he stopped himself with a gasp and a shudder. He looked around frantically, breathing heavy and panicked, no longer in the throne room of his parents but...

"Uh, what's he doing Wukong?"

He stood up straight, head reeling around and instantly recognizing the scene before him.

He was young. He was small. He was powerful, more powerful than he had been in centuries, flames burning bright under his skin in a way that felt so fake but so familiar. And he was facing Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie.

There was the soft whisper of a woman's chuckle and words he couldn't quite hear on the wind and-

"What in the world are you doing?"

He turned again, his face burning in pain before it faded as if he had never been touched. His father was standing before him again, smaller and scowling in a chef's frock.

"This was your idea, finish getting ready before the festival starts."

----------

"Uh, Kid?" Macaque repeated, his fake so fake he could see that now half smile faltering into something more genuine frustratedly confused. "Come on, talk to me. We're not going to get anywhere if you don't comu-"

"Shutup..."

"Huh?" Macaque's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What did you just say to me?"

"Shut up!" MK screamed, teeth clenched as he extended the staff into the fake monkey. Calabash or not he refused to face the man who had messed with his head so badly without getting at least one cheap shot in for revenge.

He felt a sense of satisfaction as Macaque's face twisted in pain and surprise and anger and-

Suddenly he was in the sky looking down at that nearly identical face, plus one milky white eye and scar, smirking up at him in cruel victory before a fist slammed into his stomach and pain radiated through his entire body.

It was so much like when it really happened that he almost forgot this was fake, just like everything Macaque had done before this very moment every smile and ruffle of his hair and compliment on his technique. When this happened for real his whole body burned like fire had lit through his veins in a single second and then rushed to escape immediately after and out through that spot on his back.

The Calabash didn't know how to replicate that properly. That's the only reason MK found himself able to tense and curl a fist and turn to smash the face of the shadow clone that had lead him here and-

"OW, what the hell, Bud!?" Wukong yelped as MK's fist landed in his face. "I know I'm invincible but that still smarts!" He rubbed his nose, looking up at his student with a look of genuine emotional hurt and confusion. "If you didn't wanna watch the fireworks you could have just left..."

MK ripped his hand back in shock and fear, staring at the Monkey King in confusion. He had just punched Monkey King, a fake Monkey King but still his mentor, right in the face. And to the Calabash clone it was out of nowhere and for no reason.

"I..." MK started, breathing growing heavy and fast and there was a wheeze under it as he heard a chuckle and some kind of mumble distantly.

----------

"Oh no!" Mei yelled, spinning around as she stood and glowered up at the fake visage of her ancestors. "No, I have done this already! I've proven myself long ago and I refuse to let some computer program play with my brain and use my family to make me prove myself again!"

Mei was angry. Mei was strong. And Mei lifted her blade above her head and slammed it into the wall behind her and smashed it, debris flying around her and making the fake visage around her blow away like smoke through the wind.

She smiled in victory, wide and triumphant and there was a chuckle, loud as if it was right behind her ear as she felt something not unlike hands pushing her forward and-

MK looked up at her in confusion, holding his chest as it slowly stained red from the fresh slash across his body. "Mei? What... what did I...? Why?"

There was a wall there, Mei knew there was a wall there not even a second ago. But now her best friend was falling to the ground and her sword was stained with red and her parents stood behind MK looking at her in anger and disgust. She stared in confusion and horror and she knew this wasn't real it couldn't be real and-

The food she was holding slipped from her hands as she gasped and looked around wildly, breathing heavy in confusion as Pigsy's angered expression changed to match the worried one that Tang was sending her way.

"Uh, you ok Mei?" Pigsy asked, eyebrow raising.

"You're going to require more work than the others, I see." The voice that matched the chuckle she had heard before whispered in her ear.

----------

"And you are becoming annoying," that same voice, Princess Jade Face's voice, rang through the tiny room Jin had been breaking his hands in as he attempted to escape. He couldn't hear whatever had come before that and, but he could only assume it was directed at one of the trio. "It's actually kind of depressing, watching you hurt yourself like this."

"Oh come off it," Jin hissed, rubbing his knuckles and scowling as he sat back down. "You're enjoying this."

"Hmmmmn, not really," Jade said, humming again as she typed something on the console. "You know, if you had just cooperated you could be sitting in the actual room with your brother." He voice grew cold, annoyance and frustration lining under it. "All you had to do was follow the rules."

"And what are you going to do 'bout that?" Jin asked, tapping his fingers against the floor. Ring, pinky, ring, middle, pointer. Repeat. Repeat.

"Oh, I've already done plenty," Jade continued, voice back to her neutral happy tone. "All you have to do is sit tight and maybe I will release you both to the Spider Queen aware enough for you to explain to her exactly why I had to keep you to myself. Or not. It depends on whether or not you continue to break back into your code."

Jin cursed under his breathe, scowling down at his hand as a lightning jolt of pain coursed through it and immediately eased. A warning. She'd noticed his little pattern.

"It's not really that big of a deal to me, though," she continued with a chuckle. "Everything is going exactly how I want it to. Even if you break out of there you won't be able to find your little fail safe. So don't bother trying."

She went quiet after that, and Jin listened for the tell tale sound of outside noise filtering into the Calabash through the opening she had opened to allow her voice to speak through (he was glad they never remembered to add wireless voice to this thing). And there was none. He waited a moment, sitting still.

No voice.

No lightning jolt of pain.

The door opened and Jin smirked.

Good.

She hadn't noticed the pattern he'd been drawing with the tail he had finally figured out how to control.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 48

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 48: Kate and Tommy’s wedding. During the reception, Alfie asks a serious question. 

            “Tommy and I are getting married tomorrow. I still can’t believe it. Even saying it out loud is like a surprise.” Kate laughed softly to herself. She was in the stables, taking her time grooming Blue. It was spring and his winter coat was shedding off and Kate wanted to see his black coat gleaming in the warm sun again. She spoke softly with the gelding as she combed his made and brushed his coat.

            Although she was happy about finally getting to the altar after such a long time of waiting, nerves were starting to get the better of her. With her past and with Tommy’s, it was hard to tell what the future held. But what Kate wanted was to at least try to guarantee a good life for their children.

            Besides, she decided that maybe she was still clinging to the idea that she didn’t deserve love. Something that she knew Tommy struggled with too.

            “I’m sure everything will go alright. At least Tommy’s already gone through a wedding before.”

            “Oi, heard that.”

            Kate poked her head out of the stall and smiled. Her fiancée was walking down the stable aisle. “I’m just stating facts.” She replied with a smug look. "Out of the two of us, you're the one with wedding experience." 

            Tommy chuckled and pecked her lips. “You might want to duck out while you can, the boys are coming soon.” The day before the wedding, Arthur set up to go hunting in Warwickshire to celebrate with just the lads. “And they’ve already had a go at some champagne.”

            “Well, I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to ruin the fun.” She teased.

            “Oh please, they’d get a kick out of you coming along.” Tommy stroked Blue’s nose as he poked his head out of the stall to greet him. “Want me to take him?”

            “What do you think?” Kate cooed to the gelding. “Do you want to go along for the hunt?” She patted his strong neck. “I think he’d have fun. Lord knows I can’t entertain him much.” She rested a hand on her stomach. It was more than obvious that Kate was pregnant. At five months she had gone through a variety of getting dresses rehemmed or buying new clothes all together.

            “I’ll take good care of him,” Tommy promised and began to head to the tack room. But his fiancée stopped him.

            “Y’know, I was talking to Frances today,” She said. “Um, about the nursery.”

            The two had talked plenty about the pregnancy and subsequently the child or children, depending on if Polly was right. They had even discussed names. But the upstairs of Arrow House had become like a minefield.

            Grace’s room was locked and only Tommy had the key. The unfinished nursery that adjoined the room was still under debate. Kate felt as if it was her duty to make sure she wasn’t forcing him into anything. The estate had more than enough rooms to accommodate them if he wanted to close off that part of the hallway.

            Yet Tommy had pushed his feelings down. Deep down. As if he was trying to force everything to be okay.

            “The nursery is half done.” He replied. “All the furniture is new; we’d just need another cot if it’s twins like Pol says.”

            “If it’s twins then maybe we should use one of the bigger rooms?” She moved cautiously through the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on his day. But she still thought it was important.

            He met her eyes. “Kate, we talked about this.”

            “I know I just worry that you’re not addressing how you feel.” She touched his cheek. “The more honest you are with yourself; the easier life is.”

            “We have time on another day to discuss it further.” He kissed her cheek. “Go on back to the house and rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “I think you’re right about twins, Pol,” Ada said.

            “When have I been wrong?”

            Kate chuckled softly. She turned right and left to look at herself in the mirror. Ada wasn’t joking. She remembered seeing Ada and Esme pregnant and they didn’t show nearly as much as she did. Especially in a wedding dress, it was hard to conceal. Not that she particularly meant to. She didn’t think anyone who was coming to the wedding that day would be openly critical. “Are there twins in your family?” She wondered.

            “Maybe a pair on the Strong side,” Polly recalled and walked over to place a dazzling barrette in Kate’s hair to hold back the curls from her face.

            “I didn’t know my mother’s side of the family very well,” Kate admitted. “It may be from her family.”

            Polly pivoted the conversation. “Are you sure about walking down the aisle alone? Arthur said he would walk with you.”

            “Yeah, he talked to me about it yesterday.” Kate mindlessly adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her baby bump. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright.” There was never a point in her life where she pictured anyone giving her away. She never pictured herself walking down the aisle, to begin with. Her father was never fit enough to be that sort of figure in her life before his death. She felt much more comfortable making the short walk by herself. That's how she found her way to Tommy, all on her own.

            “Here.” Ada helped Kate step into her heels so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

            “Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Arthur won’t mind the short notice.” Polly smiled and made sure every Kate’s hair was in place.

            Ada glanced up as she fixed the straps of Kate’s heels. “Is it true you invited Alfie Solomons?” She wondered.

            “I know his popularity in the family is mixed but he’s a good friend.” Kate asserted so there would be no confusion on the matter.

            “It’s your day. Whoever you want at your wedding, you can invite.” Polly nodded in agreement. Although in the back of her mind she hoped that Tommy had prepared the others to see Alfie. She didn’t want the wedding erupting in chaos over some old bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “I’m leaving.”

            “Brother, easy.” Tommy grabbed Arthur by the suit sleeve before he could storm across the lawns and out of sight.

            The guests were starting to take their seats and it just so happened that Alfie Solomons had a near front-row seat to watch the affair. He had a beautiful woman on his arm, Mabel. She looked less like the painfully shy thing that Kate had met at the boxing match. In fact, she was positively glowing with happiness as she exchanged kisses with her sister and the other ladies of the Forty Elephants.

            “You invite him to your fucking wedding? Your home?” Arthur seethed under his breath trying not to cause too much of a scene until he had an explanation.

            “Kate invited him,” Tommy replied quietly, not to draw attention to them. “And I won’t have you fighting with him on my fucking wedding day. I’ll keep him away from you if you promise you won’t kick-off. If you upset Kate, you're dead.”

            Arthur narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat pocket for his flask. “Could’ve warned me.” He muttered.

            “I did tell you. Not my fault you were too high on snow not to remember.” Tommy let go of Arthur’s sleeve, confident that his threat had done the trick. “He’s retired, anyways.”

            “Men like that don’t retire.” Arthur tucked his flask away.

            "Men like us don't retire." Tommy clarified. 

            The sun had come out, thankfully, for the wedding. Although Polly wanted the union to be under God’s watchful eye, Tommy and Kate had balked. Kate was unsure if she wanted to step on a nerve and get married in the same church Tommy and Grace did. There was no use in being forced to relive painful memories on what was supposed to be a happy day.

            Kate suggested perhaps getting married outside. Arrow House had plenty of room out in the lawns. And it reminded her of John and Esme’s wedding. There was something so romantic to her about the beautiful countryside in the spring.

            Tommy agreed and a suitable wedding venue was arranged. They were just fortunate that the weather had held and it hadn’t rained like the week before.

            So many times, Tommy had thought he’d lost Kate for good. On his journey to bring her home, he was restless as they crossed the Atlantic.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time, smoking on the deck of the ship. In the night, he waited until land came into view. But the inky black expanse of the waters and the night sky gave him nothing.

            He tried to think of what to say to her. The last words she spoke to him still cut so deep. He knew they weren’t true. She still loved him. But she was trying to keep him safe, trying to sacrifice herself.

            He pictured beating Santo Leoni into a bloody pulp. The sound of the gun as he put a bullet through the man’s head.

            Finally, the coast came into view. Exhausted but the drive to bring Kate back to safety kept him awake and alert.

            On the phone, Frank told him that Kate was fine and that she had killed Santo herself. Tommy hung up and could barely stand still as he waited. The wait at the port felt longer than the entire trip across the ocean. Every second dragged on until the car pulled up.

            Kate threw herself out of the car before it had even stopped. Tommy felt so much relief he could’ve cried. He vowed to himself that he would never let her go from that point on.

            “You look like you’ve gone into a dream state,” Kate murmured to him when Tommy took her hand.

            “I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t a dream.” He replied with a soft smile.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “Oh, they’ve been inseparable since he left for Margate. Lillian said Mabel hasn't come back to Camden since she first visited him. She simply had her stuff sent to her. Been there ever since and has no plans of leaving.” Alice loosely held the champagne flute in her hand. She and Kate were speaking on the edges of the dancefloor. "Of course, everyone's talking about it, but nothing to change. They seem to be in love, far as Lillian says." 

            Arrow House was abuzz with energy after Tommy and Kate married. The reception was considerably less proper compared to Tommy’s first one with Grace. With no cavalry members in sight, it was a little more relaxed. Not to mention the number of criminal masterminds in attendance. But truthfully, they were the most fun.

            Kate looked smug watching Alfie and Mabel talking across the dance floor. “Well, I won’t say I told him so.”

            Alice smiled and finished her champagne. “Alfie handed over some paperwork to me this morning.”

            “Oh?”

            “Wants me to take over the bakery.”

            Kate tried to play it cool even though she was excited for her friend and even more excited that Alfie had gone through with what he said. Maybe this was his final act of retirement and his acceptance of his new life with Mabel. “Well, you have the support of the Peaky Blinders.”

            “Just can’t wait to see Sabini’s face when he finds out.”

            “Ha,” Kate snorted. “I’d like to see that too.”

            “Mind if I interrupt?” Tommy stepped into their conversation.

            Kate beamed. What had been such a beautiful ceremony was melting into the ideal she never knew she wanted. A life forever by the side of the man she loved.

            “Of course.” Alice smiled. “I’m going to go find Lillian and Ruby.”

            Tommy took Kate’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Holding her close, they began to sway together to the soft jazz music.

            “You haven’t gone off to meet with some crazy Russian duchess again, have you?” Kate teased.

            He chuckled. “For a Shelby wedding, this has been very uneventful.”

            “The night is still young.” She murmured in his ear with a smile.

            “I like it better this way.” He admitted. “I didn’t want anything to happen, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

            “You’ve always treated me like I’m some sort of royalty.” She lightly ran her fingers up the nape of his neck.

            “That’s how you deserve to be treated. Every day I was apart from you, I promised I would make it up to you.”

            “Tom, you don’t need to beat yourself up because of the past. I’m here, we’re finally married. We’re going to be parents soon. Everything that happened, happened. And despite all of it, all my paths lead back to you.” She stopped dancing a moment so she could look him in the eyes. “And they always will.”

            Tommy saw the world in her eyes. A world very unlike the one he had planned for so many years. In Kate’s eyes, he saw himself walking away from everything. Moving into Arrow House permanently. Raising the children, they would have. Spending his days riding horses, hunting, and being the best father, he could.

            Those blue eyes invited him to do all of that and more. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

            He gently kissed her, hoping that he could hold steady onto his given path.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “Thought I’d find you out here.” Tommy sat down on the front steps next to Alfie. “Mabel was asking around for you. Kate had me come look for you.”

            Alfie seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Oh, congratulations, mate.” He hadn’t really heard what Tommy had said to him. “Kate’s very happy. Y’know, before all this she’d come into me office. I figured it was because she was doing her fucking job but then she’d start lamenting to me about you. Like I were her gossip buddy.” He snorted and shook his head. “She wanted nothing more than to have you but didn’t think she deserved it. Of course, you and I both know it’s the opposite way around, innit?”

            Tommy shrugged.

            “I don’t deserve Mabel. Not in a million years. Not even if God himself came down and told me we were meant to be.”

            “I thought you two were hitting it off. That’s what Kate said.”

            “I ain’t never been so happy.”

            Tommy raised an eye at him. “Then what’s the problem, Alfie?”

            The man beside him took a heavy deep breath. “I’m dying, Tom. I told Kate at the boxing match. I’ve got skin cancer and it’ll kill me in a couple of years if I’m lucky. That’s why I want you to kill me.”

            After two blows, Tommy was a bit speechless. Alfie was dying and he wanted him to kill him. In what world were they living? This certainly wasn’t the man who had threatened to shoot Tommy on many occasions.

            “I’m not going to kill you, Alfie.”

            “Oh, c’mon you know you’ve wanted to fucking put a bullet through me head ever since we met. I ain’t blind. Now I’m giving you the option and you turn it down like a scared little boy?” Alfie wasn’t angry. When he was angry, everyone around him knew. No, this was fear. Fear coming from a man who claimed to be fearless.

            “What would that do to Mabel? Aye? And d’you think Kate would ever speak to me if I did?” Tommy questioned harshly. “You’ve got another part of life to appreciate, try not to skip out on it.”

            “Yeah, how much you think I’m gonna enjoy that while I’m rotting away?” Alfie demanded. “While Mabel watches?”

            Tommy shook his head. The logic wasn’t lost on him. How many nights had he been wide awake wondering how long he had to suffer? How much longer would he tolerate the pain and weight of the world? How many times had someone held a gun to his head? How many times was he completely at peace with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his skin? How many times had he waited patiently for that click and then….nothing.

            “I’m not killing you.” He said again. Because if Tommy had given in, he wouldn’t be sitting there. Married and about to be a father. “We’ll get the best doctors in London to help.”

            “Oh, right. So now you’re my saving grace?” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucking ridiculous. I don’t want some fucking doctor drugging me up. I ain’t gonna roam around life high like you lot.”

            “I know you don’t think you deserve Mabel. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t deserve Kate. But look at us, aye? They’re still here with us. You fucking need God to come down and explain that to you?”

            Alfie grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d be no fucking help.”

            “Take it up with Kate. See how she reacts and then you’ll realize how much easier I was on you.” Tommy replied and lit up a cigarette. “She’d go ballistic.”

            The two men sat out in the breezy spring night. Past the gravel drive was nothing but dark countryside with the sounds of nocturnal life.

            “I saw the ring Mabel was wearing.” Even at his own wedding reception, Tommy was perceptive. He could never turn it off even if he wanted.

            Alfie merely muttered something incoherent under his breath.

            “So, I invite you to my wedding but I’m not given the same courtesy.”

            “It were a gift.” He grumbled crankily. "Can't I buy jewelry for her without people getting their knickers in a twist?"

            Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette to the step beside him. “So, no plans then?”

            “Her mum threw a fit when she found out. Even in retirement, I’m still the devil of Camden. No one wants their women near me. Her mum hated that we were friends when we were kids. Guess she thought she was in clear, that I wouldn't ever go near Mabel again.” He let out a humorless laugh. "Guess she were wrong and now I'm corrupting her thirty-four-year-old daughter. S'fucking ridiculous." 

            “Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?”

            “I don't. But Mabel's getting an earful every night. Ain't fair to her." Alfie shrugged. “Just know there won’t be no blessings coming my way, that’s for sure.”

            “Except for Kate.”

            He laughed. “It’s tough to disappoint her, innit?”

            “I think she’d be disappointed if I killed you especially if she found out you asked me to do it.”

            “There’s just no pleasing some people.” Alfie shook his head.

            “Come on.” Tommy stood up. “Don’t want Kate thinking you’ve skipped off without saying goodbye to her.”

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[weeniewrites]

Lost Connections

Zombie Kenma x g/n reader part 1

3k Words

tw: zombies, mentions of death, reader kills a few zombies, descriptions of rot and gore, mentions of past limb loss (Kenma’s in bad shape), the plots pretty peaceful all things considered i just go in depth when describing gross things

-a lot more’s changed since high school than you could’ve imagined

_________________________________________________________

It’s been said that traveling in groups is the safest idea. There are more hands for tasks, people to lean back on in the case of an injury or for comfort. But considering the state of things, the messy wasteland you assume the rest of the world has become, the stress that’s put on you and everyone around you, you know too well the strain that would put on any relationship. So you travel alone, to avoid the pain of loss and strain. Arguing that even if you can’t carry as many resources with you, you need much less food as a party of one.

You’ve made a home base of sorts. A basement near but not next to a general store, making it easy to move the supplies from there to your place without drawing attention to your home of operations. When you moved in the basement was empty save for a couple shelves and the walls unfinished to the point where the insulation’s still exposed. You’ve contemplated ripping a panel down to put under your blanket as a makeshift bed but it’s too itchy. What's insulation even made of? Maybe you shouldn’t touch it. So no bed. This isn’t your home anyway. It’s not your home. It would be more convenient to stay in the general store, yes. Not have to move your food, an overall nicer looking place. But too many windows, too many risks coming from staying in a building that so clearly carried food at one point. You haven’t encountered them yourself but you’ve heard of raiders from your time traveling with others.

Thankfully this town is small, away from others. The wildlife in the woods can be dangerous but it's far enough away from civilization that zombies are few and far between, easily taken care of or ignored until they stumble away. You’ve hit the jackpot essentially. Food. A stream of hopefully? Clean water that you boil still just in case. And no one around to bother you. Just you, an assortment of plastic containers, and your slowly decaying mental state.

‘Til the day you hear a rumble. Curiosity outweighs your concerns to make you peek out the basement window that’s usually covered. There’s a truck! What kind of idiots running and screeching around in a truck that makes so much noise! But you can’t help the excitement at seeing something you used to see so often. And then it's gone out of your vision with a shout, a hoot and a thump.

A thump? Did they hit something? Gaining your better sense back you cover up the window again and retreat to your cave of poorly circulated but still drafty air. There’s more than enough supplies in here. No reason to venture out. You shouldn’t go. With that high and mighty attitude you heard, those must’ve been raiders, or at the very least not the kind of people you’d want to stay around. Too risky. Too risky to even talk to...

When did you get to the door?

“Snap out of it me, you’re only alive because you’ve been cautious. You’re safer alone.” You croak out. When’s the last time you spoke? With there being little reason to? Just another noise to keep track of and minimize. You take one more look around at your supplies and curse. You need to get water today. It’s possible to wait a day, but between not wanting to wait on something so integral and the curiosity of what you’ll find outside. You remove the barricade, twist the rusty hatch lock, and go out, bat at the ready.

It’s fairly quiet, a few zombies dredged up from the earlier noise needing to be dispatched but it's easy to crush their heads with a well-placed swing, decay making them fragile. Seems like the rowdy bunch left town as soon as they came, perhaps outrunning a hoard? God, you’re an idiot for coming out here but at least it worked out with little affair. Though your one pair of pants is dirty now. It’d be nice to have a different pair, your backup being worn to threads. It’s possible to raid zombies for supplies but you DEFINITELY don’t want to strip them. Considering the amount of undead you’ve seen today (several compared to the usual none) it’s not worth it to make this foolish trip longer by washing up. Maybe the stench will hide you, can these things even smell? A trip to the stream to fill up your jug, a trek back through the road you know best and one last zombie stumbling around to take care of and your work's done for the day! It’s almost a nice routine at this point even if it feels like murder. Gross stinky murder.

It hasn’t seen you yet. One side of its body is visibly damaged, perhaps dragged? Ah well. Not your problem. Despite the sorry state of its body, it has an unusual amount of hair left. Man those roots are overgrown. The thing’s stumbling so you have no worries about being able to outrun it. Overall it’s no match for you with only one arm left, shambling with most of its weight on one leg, the other on its bad side visibly torn. Curious. A couple more steps and you’ll be done for the day and-

    It sees you. One wide unblinking yellow eye meeting yours. You hop back, circling around to keep your distance and get a better idea of how to respond. Intense scrutiny makes you catch more details, the lack of blood on the seemingly recent injuries, the face you refuse to look at (it's always the most unsettling) and the... Is that a Nekoma jacket? Shit. Shit shit shit shit you went there! That was your high school you can’t- you back up further and the thing shambles with you. Its too dangerous to get sentimental now just, don't look, don’t look and bash the poor things head in. It’s too late. Whoever it is is long dead just-

    The blond zombie trips and falls to the ground, wiggling around to look back up at you and you can’t avoid its face any longer, his face. Kenma’s face.

    God, you wanna cry, tears already threatening to cloud your vision. It was always a possibility to see someone you knew personally but what’s he even doing out here? You’re so far away from home, or at least it feels like it just. Shit! He’s wiggling you need to get this over with. Can’t avoid hesitating and compromising your safety further. A step back, readjusting your grip on your bat and... he's not. Moving? Did he run out of energy? Can zombies even do that? Why’s he-it. Why is it staring? His big yellow eyes looking almost curiously up at you.

“Kenma?”

His head tilts.

“What the fuck.”

The rustle of leaves and the trash picked up by the wind are the only sounds. It’s just you and this old dead classmate. At least that gives a chance to react to whatever this is. There’s not exactly a protocol! You didn’t plan for this! Shit just, um-

One eye attempts to blink, faltering halfway down- God that's gross

“Kenma?”

His head tilts again

“Okay shit that's, god that's definitely you- Can you understand me?”

No response

Maybe that was a fluke the first time, you would try and project human behavior on a shambling corpse in your lonely state. Fucking idiot... He’s still not moving.

“Kenma, why aren’t you attacking me?”

 His head twitches and you flinch, steadying your grip on your bat.

“Do you want to eat me?”

No response. Okay thats... weird. Wait let's try-

“Kenma, do you want to attack me?”

You can almost physically feel his focus shift, your breathing picking up as his eyes seem to focus on you rather than through.

He shakes his head.

“What the Fuck.”

You keep him tied up across the room at first. It’s idiotic. It’s not like you had a space set up specifically to keep an undead. Why would you? But he’s been surprisingly docile. Complying with any question or demand as long as you clearly address it to him. Knotting the rope around him was nerve-wracking. His jaw dropping open and hanging slack on request to place a gag inside “To stop you from biting me.” His spit leaves mismatched spots on the fabric. Being mindful to stay on his weaker side, you bind his neck and torso as his eyes keep a careful, blank eyed watch. Should his arm be tied up too? There’d been rumours that only bites turned people but risking a scratch just because you didn’t know for sure felt unwise. Finishing the knot on the first short piece of rope you take a step back to access his state. And another as he tenses. And another as he wrenches his head around, tearing through the fabric though pieces catch in his teeth.

“Kenma, stay still.”

He wiggles in complaint, face as taut as the rotting skin will allow.

“Kenma, do you want to hurt me?”

He shakes his head

“Kenma I need to do this... We need to do this. To be sure, to be safe.”

No response.

“Kenma I don’t want to hurt you either, but I need to be sure you can’t hurt me okay? Just in case”

....

“Please?”

His glare is focused on the floor beside him. Any attempts to get closer are met with a huff. Maybe... It’d be best to try again later.

Staying with Kenma is... scary at first and probably will be for a while but there are parts of it you don’t mind. That are nice even. The touch of familiarity, of home. It’s nice to talk to someone even if the most he can do is nod. Something feels wrong about tying up an old friend. He’d say he didn’t want to hurt you anytime you asked but, you can’t be sure. Zombies must have like, instincts or something. Why else would they become the aggressive shambling corpses you’ve come to know.?

You don’t know if he can fully understand you but he’s less restless when you speak, sitting calmly rather than scratching the wall and floor where he can reach. The occasional shuffle of movement makes things slightly less monotonous though it's hard not to tense up at the noise. Movement usually means danger. While you’re cracking open a can and deciding if the risk of smoke was worth a warm meal, he’s jostling around in his bonds enough to knock a jar off the shelf he’s tied to. The shattering glass loud enough to echo in the small space.

“Shhhhh!!!”

His stare’s more intense than in life, that cat-like part of him where you could feel his stare across the room, now with unblinking cloudy eyes. They’ve kept their yellow shine despite his pallor skin. But his movement’s stopped at least.

“Kenma I need you to be quiet okay? It’s dangerous to make noise. Can you be quiet for me?”

He nods.

You set your can down for now, standing and listening intently. No movement on the loud floorboards above you. No noise outside save for the rain and the occasional caw from a bird. Safe.

“Okay lemme clean this up”

Pickles are easy to pick up at least, though the whole room stinks of vinegar now. Hopefully it’s not enough to draw anything to you. Wouldn’t like, blood or something draw them? Yeah, this must be safe okay just, grab a plastic bag from the convenience store, shove the pickles and glass in and toss it out at some point later. You already have a rotting corpse for a friend you don’t need rotting food down here too. Curiosity makes you wonder though as you touch the wet food, the vinegar unpleasant on your dry fingers.

“Kenma can you smell this, or is it just blood you can smell?”

He stares blankly

“Shoot sorry okay uh, Kenma can you smell vinegar? What you just spilled?”

A pause, and then a small nod.

“Kenma, can you smell blood better?”

Awkward timing to ask that as in your distraction, your finger catches on the shards, cutting shallowly but more than enough for it to burn. Flinching at the pain you shuffle away as you hear more than see him tense in his bounds. One of his pupils swells to an unnatural level of dilation, intently watching the red dripping down your finger.

He nods.

After cleaning up the rest, much slower this time to avoid another mess up, and to keep a very very close eye on Kenma considering his reaction. You finally pick up the rest and stow it away in the corner. Wiping your hands on your old pants.

    That general store's first aid kit better have disinfecting wipes left. And it does! “My lucky day! Ah, haha..... Yeah, sarcasm isn’t very funny without an audience.” Or in general. A wipe, a bandaid, and boom! Good as new.... Geez he’s still staring.

“Kenma I’m fine, chill. You look like you want to eat me.”

He glances away though his attention, like always, inevitably comes back to you.

“It’ll heal. I know you can survive a lot of things I can’t. But I can heal and you...” 

You trail off, thinking about the injuries that plague the better half of one side of his body. Questioning how one even loses an arm but not wanting to know how.

“Shit Kenma, can you feel pain?”

Kenma blinks. Shit an actual successful one! Who knew he had it in him.

“Okay how about this, instead of using an entire wipe on just one little cut. Can I clean you off a little Kenma? It might feel better.”

A nod.

“Okay, I’m gonna come closer now. Kenma don’t move too much or you’ll scare me.”

You must actually be losing it if you’re willing to get this close, but... If it could make him more comfortable it feels worth it. Keeping your movement slow in case fast ones set off hidden hunter instincts or something, you settle at his side, reaching out for his hand and trying to hide your wince at how cold it is. Decays made his already small frame even daintier, his wrist feeling almost fragile in your hand. Don’t focus on that just, clean him up. His nails are bloodied and you wonder how one hasn’t popped off yet. Ew. But rubbing around the nail beds (there’s no chance in hell you’re risking getting underneath his nails) his palm, between his fingers, his wrist, sliding the wipe a little further up his arm to get what’s not covered by his sleeve and. “There we go! Much better.”

He blinks at you again. Man this is, really close. There are so many details to his face you couldn’t see prior. His eyes are slightly shriveled up, the skin pulling at the corners. Despite his mouth being closed you can see a hint of teeth with his lips no longer being able to fully close. His nose has caved slightly in on itself making you uncomfortably aware of where his nasal bone is. You look away with a shiver and he shimmies in front of you, his hand twitching and faltering but succeeding in holding him up. You turn again and he moves, struggling to stay within your line of sight.

“Do you... want me to look at you?”

A nod

“Kenma I can’t. I-I need a minute”

His arm violently twitches. You can’t help the way your body lurches away from him, a well trained and well needed fear response.

“Please just! I’ll do it just give me a minute I-”

You blink.

Panic blinds you as a cold hand covers your mouth, shocking your eyes back open to meet his. It stinks it stinks it stinks! Your hands squeezing against his one frail wrist to force it away, the skin leathery and wet. You feel something pop. The force of your shove makes him lose his balance, slamming the air out of his chest like a second death rattle as he meets the wall. His wide eyes look up at you, neither of you moving as the dust that was shocked up in his fall settles. And then, he looks away.

It should’ve been nice to lose the intense pressure of his stare, but it’s not. Any new unpredictable behavior is frightening. As you move to stand, he starts kicking away from you. His trajectory slightly curved as his good leg does most of the work and his arm it... it falters with each push. His wrist moved more than it should, more than it could even a minute ago.

“Wait Kenma!”

His head jerks back, silencing you. Afterwards, he continues his trek further away from you, as much as the ropes allow, audibly dragging across the floor.

“....Kozume?”

No response

He’s still not looking at you.

Unsure of what to say, you stand in silent watch as he struggles to maneuver himself into a seated position, hand slipping across the floor with each attempt to push up.

“Did I hurt you Kenma?”

He ignores you in favor of trying to scratch the floor with his limp hand, your previous work on cleaning him up already being undone.

You sigh as you open your pack. Only once your attention is away from him does he look up, looking away each time you lift your head. Satisfied once you find what you wanted, you start closing the distance between the two of you, pausing as he straight up glares at you. Face tense.

“Kenma?”

And in the most surprising gesture so far, he lifts his hand to place a finger over his lips. The gesture is clumsy, his fingers are unable to fully close and his hand’s dangling limply but the intention is clear.

He’s shushing you.

You roll your eyes.

“Kenma I didn’t raise my voice because I was looking at you. This is just.. It’s a lot. You’re a lot.”

He looks like he’d be blinking if his lids decided to move this time.

“Kenma, it’s okay. We’re okay. Or we will be once we get you patched up. That-” You point at his limp hand. “Doesn’t look comfortable. Is it okay if I come closer?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Kenma is it okay if I come closer? I promise I’ll be quiet.”

A pause and then he nods, his head turned just enough to see you as you finish the trip back to him. “Now I don’t know a lot about medical care but I think? Your wrist might be dislocated. So here’s what I need you to do.” You guide him through the motions, taking your time to make sure everything's lined up like the diagrams in the first aid booklet. It’s not possible to position yourself right and keep your distance but if this is how you die, trying to help an old friend feel more comfortable then fuck it. You’ll go out a proud idiot. Pushing his hand down it snaps back into place with a crack. He hisses in discomfort.

“It’s all better now. You’re all fixed up okay? But just to be safe, can I have your hand Kenma?” His hand appears in yours near immediately. “I want to wrap this as if it were sprained, since you can’t heal? I’m worried we tore some of your muscle or something and I don’t want the damage to spread. Hold still okay?” The bandage wraps up and around, carefully around his palm. It’s almost like taping up his fingers before a game. “Is that okay Kenma?” He nods, gaze not rising from the floor and the rest of the day is spent in silence, Kenma occasionally testing his hand’s movement throughout the night.

[dayseternal-blog]

Summary: She knit a red scarf for him.  She never gave it to him.  Days turned into months, months turned into too late.

Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on.

A sickness takes root in the heart.

Inspired by SasuSaku fanfic “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Rating: Mature

Read Chapter 1: Smoke on her tongue

Read Chapter 2: He’s not a ghost

Read Chapter 3: Weeds

Read Chapter 4: Leave himself behind

Read Chapter 5: She’s always (still here)

Chapter 6: Much more than friends

The bustling activity of the hospital fades away as soon as they step outside.  The silence between them magnifies in the bright sunlight.

She feels anxious, a small excitement fluttering about, as she follows him toward the road.  Naruto has always done the unexpected, and with today, she thinks he’s really lived up to that reputation…

She has no idea what’s coming next for them.  

It leaves her hopeful, so, so hopeful, that she doesn’t dare speak.  Out of fear of disturbing this dream, any wrong word could turn all of it into a terrible joke.  

Naruto stops.

She freezes behind him.

He turns around, looks directly at her, and feels his stomach drop straight to his feet.  The question he wanted to ask forgotten.

She’s blushing so much, and it’s adorable.

He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, a reactive heat rising to his own face.  The sudden onslaught of nerves makes him feel warm, as if someone just complimented him, and at the same time, he feels incredibly scatterbrained.

He feels like he can do anything or nothing.

Two steps away from remarkable or lost...

“Soo,” he regrettably starts, immediately and unfortunately finding himself weakly at her will, but he manages to continue, “...what are you doing now?”

“Oh, I, I guess I should meet up with my family...at the...cemetery.  It should be about that time.”  She sounds so soft, even to her own ears, she’s not sure if he could hear her.

But he nods.  “Right...right.”  Since the moment Hinata entered his room, he pretty much forgot what today was.  So much happened just this morning, it’s a surprise that it’s still afternoon.

She peers up at him, trying to gauge his expression...muted, thoughtful.  She decides against telling him that she went without him earlier.  She knows the reason now why he didn’t show up, and she doesn’t want to make him feel bad about something that wasn’t in his control.

His disease, his explanation for it, it’s all something she still can’t quite wrap her mind around.  And she’ll dedicate time to mull over it later, but for now…  “Would you like to come with me?”

“With your family?” he asks, a hand swinging up to work the uncertainty from his neck.

“Mhm,” she quietly affirms.  “They won’t mind.  I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

He didn’t get a chance to go earlier, and he really does need to pay a visit.  Maybe without the flowers, he’s seen enough flowers for awhile...Neji would understand...Neji probably doesn’t actually care about the flowers, right?  And if Hinata’s family won’t be bothered by him...  “Sure, yeah, thanks.”

She hums a disagreement at his appreciation.  He doesn’t owe her that, it should be a matter of course that he would be invited.

He smiles at her.

And with the way his gaze lingers on her as they start walking once more, fluffed cotton fills her legs, her stomach, her head, and she feels she may be nothing more than a cloud in the sky.  Any slight breeze from him would send her clear in any direction he pleases.

It’s headying.

It’s frightening.

Though no one gives them much of a passing glance, she wonders, what others must think of them together?  How much distance between them is appropriate?  How much distance was there before today?...Are they now more than friends?

So whenever thrust into an unexpected, socially nerve-wracking situation, her hands find each other, clasping together tightly.

His fingers interlace behind his neck, cradling his head, walking as if lying back in the grass.  It’s always been a tried-and-true way to appear as relaxed as possible, even if he feels far from it.  “You…”  He frowns at the sky.  “...didn’t go this morning, did you?” he finishes quietly.

“Ah...I did.”

She went.  Of course she did.  It’s Hinata, and she’s always been reliable like that.  And he...he didn’t go.  His guilt darkens even the blue sky above.  “Sorry...I wasn’t there.”

“Oh no.  You were in the hospital after all.”

“Yeah but still.  Sorry, Hinata.”

She hums another disagreement quietly, trusting that the nearing view of the cemetery will lighten the air between them with shared purpose.

Murmurings from somber crowds carry over the field.  Families pray around headstones.  Little gifts and flowers decorate every grave across the field.

But despite the numerous people, Naruto sees that no one pays him any mind.  It’s a welcome surprise.

And their presence seems to be a welcome surprise, too, for the rest of her family.

Hanabi’s eyes widen.  “Oh, Nee-sama, we would have waited for you, but none of us knew where you went!”

“I’m sorry, I was helping Sakura-chan at the hospital.  Naruto-kun was there, too, and I invited him with us.”

He takes this as his cue, slightly dipping his head in a bow, awkwardly, to her stoic family.

In the following beat of silence, his eyes draw directly to the only reaction...Hanabi’s expression: brows arched high, a quick glance at her older sister, mouthing a silent ohh.  A look that sends self-conscious warmth to his cheeks.

“Thank you for coming today.”  Hiashi is as serious as usual, but the words sound genuine.

He nods, for lack of anything else to say.  In front of all of her family, some he knows by name, some strangers, all of them in quiet appreciation of the moment, he can’t help feeling a little out of place, like their collective pressure on him just forces him to shut up.  Unlike other families, noisier in their prayers and conversation, the Hyuuga are quiet.  Silently cleaning and visiting graves of others besides Neji who were lost in the war.

Hinata has always been quiet.

And as he expected, this is the quiet family she’s grown up in.

The people who raised her into the person she is today.

Like Neji.

Hinata mentioned to him in passing the things Neji had done for her.  Helping her perfect a move, build stamina, assist her when she strained her eyes.  When he asked why she calls Neji “Nii-san,” she explained that he was more of a brother to her than a cousin.  She said she understands why it might sound silly to others, since during the chuunin exams, in front of everyone, he so vocally demeaned her.  How maybe to others, it might sound silly that even through that difficult part of their relationship, she still saw him as her brother.

He quickly reassured her that “No, it’s not silly.  I get it, believe me.”   He understood.  Perhaps better than anyone else ever could.

She looked at him, eyes, usually so pale, shining warm.  She smiled.  Her head tilted, her bangs sweeping over, the white skin of her forehead peeking through. “Sasuke-san?”

He smiled, too.  “Yeah.”  That asshole of a brother.

She nodded, her gaze drifting back to Neji’s grave, her smile muting to something lonely.

He remembers he wanted to hug her, words failing him when he could imagine what such a loss would feel like.  He can still remember back on that time when he was afraid that he really did lose Sasuke.  He turned his fear into determination to get him back...but Hinata can’t do the same.  And in that moment, he wanted to hold her tight.

But he didn’t hug her, didn’t touch her.  The very ache in his limbs to feel her weight solidly against his body, to squeeze her and never let go, made him freeze up.  He couldn’t gather the courage to do it and he didn’t know why that would be so, when he’s touched her before.

He knows why, now.  Aware of the heaviness in his heart, of how her loss felt like his own loss, of why standing next to her now makes him feel obscure, fuzzy, eclipsed by her.

The immediate thought that follows, each time, and he thinks he’ll never get over it, that it could have been her.  It could have been her, and he always sensed that that loss would have left him utterly, terribly helpless, a million times worse than losing Neji.

“Thank you” will never be enough.

But he prays it over and over.  Thank you.  Thank you, thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you, Neji.

It’s endless, a prayer never meant to find closure or be restricted by time.

Yet the sun begins to burn low, and Hiashi approaches their quiet vigil.  “Naruto.  If you are available, please join us for dinner.  We would be honored to have you.”

Her father’s kind offer is surprising, and it brings her so much happiness to know that his attitude toward Naruto has changed with the rest of the village.  “Yes, Naruto-kun, please join us,” she quietly adds, hoping he can hear her sincerity.

He gapes at their invitation.  No one’s parents ever invited him over.  None of the adults liked him, maybe except Iruka-sensei, but his old teacher claimed once that he’s not much good at cooking, so they always just ate out.

Hinata watches his hesitation, wondering.

Naruto studies the man’s stoic expression.  Does her father really want him for dinner?  He’s probably just asking out of courtesy...  “That’s really kind of you, Hiashi-san, but I need to head to the Tower before it gets too late.”

She tries not to let her disappointment show.  He had been saying since earlier that he wanted to get back to work.

“Sorry, Hinata.”

“Oh, no...”  She supposes she was never any good at hiding her feelings from him.

Hiashi nods.  “You must be busy.  Thank you for joining us today.”

“No, thank you for allowing me to join your family today, Hiashi-san.”

Her family starts heading off down the street, away from the cemetery gates, but she lingers behind.

Everything that Naruto said to her at the hospital was clearly direct, leaving no room for confusion.  So why does she feel unfinished?

“Your family is leaving-” he starts.

“I know.”  She looks up at him, as if his face will clarify her incomplete thoughts.

He takes in her soft gaze and soaks her attention in.  He doesn’t really want to go.  He doesn’t want her to walk away, either.  “Hinata…”

“Naruto-kun?”  

He reaches out uncertainly, his hand folding with hers, his grip light.  He held her hand in the hospital.  But suddenly, out here, it’s just...different.  As if the soft connection is a thin thread, gently tugging at his heart, pulling it toward their entwined fingers.

It’s a familiar warmth.  She never got used to holding Susumu’s hand, probably because she was always comparing it to this.  Naruto’s warmth almost feels natural against her.  She dares to think that it’s meant to be.  It’s where she always wanted to be, after all.

“...Let’s meet up again.”

She nods, her gaze leaving their hands to look into his eyes.

Her earnest expression makes his heart squeeze, his grip on her smaller hand tighten.  “I don’t know when, though.”

She nods again.  That's just how mission schedules are.  “Then, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.”

She lets go of him reluctantly, backing away to rejoin her family, when she remembers.  “Um, Naruto-kun?”

He perks up.  “Yeah?”

“Happy birthday."

He shyly grins.  “Thanks.”  He’s not exactly sure if “happy” is the most accurate way to describe today, but it’s certainly been an unforgettable one.

She smiles a little more, taking in his warm expression, before reluctantly starting to turn around.  She holds his gaze for one last second, then steps away to catch up to her family.

Naruto slowly turns toward the Tower.  Some steps forward, though, has him glancing back, catching her looking back at him, too.  Warmth rises to his face, as pink visibly tinges her cheeks.  He smiles through it, widely, and turns around fully to wave at her.

She reddens even more.  She waves a little, too, shyly, before turning around for good, dashing away.  

She’s so cute.

And he’s so happy.

*

Kakashi puts him right to work.

He’s thankful for it.  It’s such a relief to stretch out his muscles, to move, to get his chakra circulating and working in a healthy, normal way, to finally feel like his body is his own and not a victim to a force larger than himself.

That force being...death.

Missions remind him that he’s young and...not dying.  Work makes him feel like he’s a functioning adult, doing what he’s supposed to do.

He remembers how he felt before.  That month of confusion that led to anger, that spiraled into depression.  A month of...kind of just...getting worse and worse and worse, and it was so completely unlike him.  No energy.  No direction.  No sense of self-worth.  He didn’t recognize himself.

He doesn’t even really know how to reflect on the whole thing.

Thing.  He really doesn’t know what else to make of it.

The descent seemed to happen so slowly, and suddenly he was in the thick of his disease before he realized it.

Then as quick as a snap, he was fine.

...That, too, his cure…

He never gets too far in his reflection on everything he’s been through because he always pictures her soft, pink smile when they parted ways at the cemetery.  She has the softest smile he’s ever seen, and he can’t wait to see her again, he just, can’t, wait.

He needs to verify her feelings again with his own two eyes and ears.  With his hands, too.  He’ll hold her hand again and maybe he can hug her.  Maybe he can hold her.

He wants to hug her.

The thought always leave a vacancy he can feel against his body, like she should already be there in his arms but isn’t.

On a mission like this, even with a fun teammate like Shikamaru, he finds himself thinking about her in a moment of downtime.  Thinking about when they’ll meet again and what it will be like.

It’s real.

His feelings for her are an excitement and distraction quite apart from anything he ever felt for his past girlfriends.

...He pretty much never thought about Rumi while on a mission.

...Rumi…

He tries not to think about her at all.  The memory of her makes him feel like a piece of shit.

He really sucked.  He couldn’t even be a decent person, he really…

Anyway, he should just focus on his mission.

*

He’s been really busy, and she knows she needs to be patient.

But she can’t help but wonder if she’s just his next girl.  She knows that just a week ago, when he told her that he loves her, she thought that he didn’t need to prove anything to her.  She knows that she’s supposed to trust him, after all, Sakura told her so, too.

She knows that she needs to not make any assumptions and just put her faith in him.

But...wasn’t it fast?  Between his breakup with Rumi and his confession to her, wasn’t it...just...fast?  She’s not sure exactly when he broke up with her, but Sakura would have told her something, probably, or the rumors would have traveled before Naruto would have gotten a chance to tell her.  She thinks at the most, maybe a week passed since they broke up?

And, and!  Between Kanae and Rumi!  A little over one month.  She thought that was fast, too…

She thought a lot of things.

She wondered if Rumi, a girl he seemed to hardly know, might be a quick relationship, like Kanae was.  But Naruto and Rumi went out all the time.  They seemed effortlessly happy together, going out on so many dates.  They were seen all over town, eating meals at trendy restaurants, looking...cute...as everyone said.

And Naruto tells her now that dating Rumi was a mistake?

What exactly did he mean by that?

Is it because he was...jealous…...that she was with Susumu?  And he got sick because of that?  He...got...sick?

She even asked Sakura on a day-off what Naruto’s illness was really all about.

Sakura said almost the same things Naruto had said, just with more technical language.

That should be “proof” enough for her, right?

Somehow, it’s not enough.

...She needs to be patient.

*

She’s heading out on a mission with Kiba, Akamaru, and Shino when she notices Naruto with Shikamaru, making their way toward the Hokage Tower.

She doesn’t have time to wonder how to react when he completely stops in his tracks, obviously assesses that she’s leaving the village, and then runs right up to her.  “Hinata!  How long?”

She can sense Kiba’s and Shino’s curiosity.  She wonders, too, at how obvious Naruto is making himself.  But it’s also incredibly reassuring to know that he was hoping to meet up with her.  “It’s just a one-way escort mission, estimated at nearly a week long.”

He nods, frowning, disappointment clutching his gut.  “Alright.”  He looks up to finally acknowledge her teammates.  “Be safe, guys.”

Kiba smirks.  “‘Course, man.”

Shino nods his appreciation.

“I’ll see you guys around when you get back.”  Naruto’s gaze pauses on her, and she senses that he wants her to do more than just nod in agreement.

She tentatively smiles, hoping that he’ll smile back.

He does, a gentle one that she’s seen before from him on rare occasions.

It’s always made her heart flutter.  She bites her lips, then responds, “We’ll be back soon, Naruto-kun.”

“‘Kay.”  He takes a step back, knowing that he’s holding her team up from leaving.

She reluctantly turns around, waving goodbye as he waves a bit, too.

Kiba and Shino have the strangest look on their faces, like they’re thinking about a lot of things.

They don’t divulge their thoughts to her, but she knows their worry.

It’s her own concern, too, after all.

Be careful.  But I can trust myself, too.  And I can trust him...and be careful.

She wants to hurry back home, but as soon as they were ready to leave the Land of Water, a typhoon hit.  All ships are docked until the typhoon passes and clears the surrounding waters.

So as rain lashes at the windows, they stay holed up in their accommodations, drinking tea and waiting out the storm.

Shino’s been unusually quiet.

She herself has had her own troubles, but both her teammates seem to already know that it’s regarding a certain old classmate of theirs (nothing new).  However with Shino, who so rarely seems to have a problem he doesn’t already know how to deal with, she’s been wondering what could possibly be bothering him.  So she asks directly, “What’s on your mind, Shino-kun?”

“Yeah, buddy, what’s on your mind?”  Kiba and Akamaru jump onto a bed to listen in.

Shino adjusts his sunglasses.  He takes a breath.  “I have a decision to make.”  He looks at them and sees that they’re listening.  “I’m thinking of applying for the education program.”

Kiba’s eyes widen.  “To teach at the Academy?  That’s awesome!”

“...The application deadline is in two months.”

In two months?...  “Good luck, Shino-kun.  I know you’ll make a great teacher!”

“You’ll make a fantastic teacher!  They’ll call you ‘Shino-sensei!’ like that,” Kiba cheers.

Shino looks between them, a tiny, amused smile on.  “But I am hesitant.  The reason is it would mean that I would not be able to go on regular missions with both of you anymore.”

Hinata and Kiba exchange looks, knowing that they both had already thought of that.

Kiba moves beside him, swinging an arm around Shino.  “Listen, you’ll make the greatest teacher, even better than Iruka-sensei!  Of course I’ll miss working with you, but, this is a great opportunity.  And Hinata and I would never want to hold you back.”

Hinata is thankful for Kiba’s encouraging tones.  It’s putting her in the right mindset, too.  “Kiba-kun is right.  We would never want to keep you from reaching for your goals.  Do your best!  We’ll be cheering for you all the way!”

“Thank you.  I’ll miss both of you,” Shino says.

She shakes her head.  “We’ll never be far away.”

“We’ll come and be guest instructors!” Kiba offers.

“Yes!” Hinata agrees.  “We’ll always be your team.”

“Thank you.”  His voice is heavy, emotional.

They smile together, and she feels tears coming on, but she doesn’t let them fall.  She supposes they all knew this would eventually happen.  The possibility of disbandment as they entered adulthood only increases with new responsibilities, new windows of opportunity, and challenges presented.

She just didn’t know it would happen so soon.

Sometimes she feels like it was only yesterday when she was selected for Kurenai’s Team 8.  Sometimes it feels like a forever ago when the four of them were tasked with finding Madam Shijimi’s cat.

For the entire way home, they reminisce on their trainings and missions together and make promises to continue meeting up whenever they can.

It’s bittersweet.

To realize, not for the first time, how wonderful her team is.  To hold so much excitement for Shino’s next stage in life.  To hear Kiba’s plans for the future.  To wonder about her own.

Maybe become a jounin sensei?

Maybe eventually work at the Academy, too?

To see that…

So much time has passed.  She really has grown.

And she still has so much of life ahead of her.  There’s no rush at all.

*

It’s a stroke of luck to see her coming out of the Hokage Tower.  She’s smiling, looking well.  She bends over to pet Akamaru.

She straightens and looks toward him, despite the distance.

So she knew that I was-- He bites down on that memory and runs forward to meet them.  “You’re finally back!”

“We got held up in the Land of Water due to a typhoon,” Kiba answers.

“Good thing you guys didn’t get caught in it.”  He nods at Kiba briefly before turning his attention back to Hinata.  “How was the mission?”

She almost wants to shrink away from his obvious, directed attention.  It’s almost too strong.  But no, she wants this.  She really wants this.  “It went well.  There was one scuffle along the way, but they weren’t a problem for us.”

“Yeah, I bet you beat them up easily.”

She blushes at his confidence in her.  It’s almost like from before...It reminds her of those times before he started dating.

Shino clears his throat.  “Are you hungry, Naruto?  The reason is, we’re going out to get lunch together.”

“Oh yeah?”  He was planning on trying to get Hinata alone, but this is almost just as good.  “Can I join?”

“No!  No, no.”  Kiba leans forward, his voice cutting Shino off.  “We’re doing Team bonding, and if you come along, you’ll just ignore us and try to hog all of Hinata’s attention!”

Naruto frowns.  Yeah, he probably would’ve but…  “The three of you were together for the past week!  More than a week!  Isn’t that enough bonding time?” he protests.  “Plus, Shino was about to invite me!”  He looks at the quiet guy for affirmation.

But Shino suddenly looks as silent as a rock.

Naruto’s jaw drops in disbelief and betrayal.  “Shino!”

“The reason is that Kiba is right.”

He rolls his eyes and looks at Hinata.  “Hinata?  You’re just going to let these guys treat me like this?”

She’s still absolutely red from Kiba’s sudden and shameless words.  It’s the first time he’s verbally acknowledged Naruto’s attentions toward her in almost a year, out of consideration for her feelings.  “Oh, I would like to, Naruto-kun, but…”  She looks at Shino.  “We’re not going to be Team 8, officially, for much longer.  Shino-kun is going into education.”

Naruto looks at the usually stoic bug boy.  This guy?  With kids?  A sensei?  “What?!  No way!  Shino?!”

“He’s going to be a wonderful teacher,” Hinata states solidly, not leaving any room for him to not believe her any further.

He nods, getting used to the idea.  Certainly unexpected, but has Shino ever been anything other than surprising?  “That’s really awesome.”  And he means it.

“Thank you, Naruto.”  Shino looks like maybe he’s smiling.

And so he takes a step back from them, now completely understanding what’s going on.  What wouldn’t he do to have just one more meal with his team, as if time never happened?  “Hinata.”

“Yes?”

“Tonight?  Dinner?”

She tries not to feel Kiba and Shino’s stares boring into her as she gives a quiet hum of affirmation.

“I’ll see you at your place around 6, then.”

“Okay.”  She tries not to look as shy as she feels because Naruto doesn’t seem shy at all.  And she needs to do her best to keep up with him.

“Great!  Have a good lunch then, guys.”  He waves his goodbye and heads off.

And then it strikes her.

She’s having a date with Naruto.

She’s really having an actual date with her longtime love.

He simply asked her out like no big deal, like this was the idea all along, and that the two of them are really, actually--

“So the two of you are a thing?” Kiba bluntly asks.

She turns to look at him, blinking out her disbelief.  “I think so.”

Kiba seems to hold back a frown.  “What do you mean, you ‘think so’?”

“I mean, he…”  Self-consciousness floods her, but Kiba and Shino are both waiting expectantly for her explanation.  So she quietly continues, “...said he loves me.”

Kiba and Shino exchange looks, nodding.

“Well, that’s what we’ve thought for a long time,” Kiba states before leading them away from the Tower.

Hinata stares at them, finding their simple acceptance incredible.  She really wasn’t the only one who felt there was something between them.  But she can’t help needing that affirmation even more.  It’s still something she can’t wrap her mind around.  “You both thought that?”

“Yes, the reason is that Naruto has always paid more attention to you than any of us.”

She looks away, shyness warming her face.  So it wasn’t her imagination?  “...but…”  Self-doubt rears up, making her feel suddenly slightly nauseous. “He dated others.”

“Oh yeah, Hinata,” Kiba starts, the roll of his eyes practically audible, “You could’ve…”  His hands turn up in a shrug.  “I dunno...tried to save his life a couple of times.  Hold his hand in front of the enemy and the entire Shinobi Alliance.  Eat out with him all by yourselves.”  He gives her a pointed look.  “And he wouldn’t have the faintest idea that any of it was romantic.  Hm.  I wonder why...maybe because he’s an idiot?”

She stares at him, processing his sarcasm, and Shino lets out the quietest cough of a laugh.  She pouts at both of them for making fun of Naruto, but Shino clears his throat, obviously ready to launch into a long explanation.

And she really does want to hear it.  Because, if anything, she has always interpreted Kiba’s list to mean that Naruto simply never returned her feelings.

“The reason is Naruto does what feels right, and if the outcome is fine, he will continue to move forward without reflection.  Unless you force him to stop by questioning his actions, he will articulate neither his reasoning nor his purpose outside of the obvious goals, and he will not consider or care about how others might perceive him, so long as he was able to manipulate the situation to meet his ends.  The reason is--”

“Naruto’s a gigantic idiot,” Kiba interrupts.

“--because Naruto thinks he has nothing to lose,” Shino continues, unfazed.  “Therefore he acts accordingly, always behaving as rashly as possible, not realizing that anyone might value him as much as he values others.”

“Or that,” Kiba tags on in agreement.

“The reason for that is,” Shino says with a sense of finality, “not very many people have stopped him to ask for his opinion.”

“What?  He’s always airing his opinions.”

Hinata shakes her head at Kiba’s denial.  “No, I...I think I understand.”

“Did you ever ask him why he held your hand in the war?”

Her eyes widen at Shino’s question.  Of course she hadn’t!  How could she ever ask a question like that?!

“Did you ever ask him what he thought of your self-sacrifice?”

“No!” she defends.  “That’s embarrassing, I couldn’t have asked something like that!  And...and I didn’t do any of that expecting anything from him.”

Even with his dark sunglasses on, she can see Shino’s measured look.

Kiba lets out a big sigh.  “Hinata...those exes were pushier than you.  And, I don’t mean this in a bad way or anything, but, well, it’s not like, uhh, well, I mean, Naruto’s an idiot, so, anyway, I get what Shino’s saying, y’know, Shino’s right, like, Naruto didn’t know you value him.”

She blinks at him, feeling inexplicably hurt, recognizing that they’re putting some amount, however small, of blame on her.  “But...I didn’t know he values...me…”

They pause outside of Yakiniku Q.

“And that’s why we didn’t say anything about this when you were dating Susumu!  He’s ‘pushier’ than Naruto!  You knew for sure that he at least valued you, it was obvious to you, and we thought it was good for you!  Both you and Naruto are the same!”  Kiba’s voice had risen enough that other pedestrians glance their way.

But she doesn’t take much notice of them.  Their words are putting all of her decisions, all of her choices to back away, to give Naruto space, to listen instead of probe, to watch instead of interrupt, into a different perspective.  She did that because she respected his decisions.  So are they saying it was wrong of her?  “I...didn’t know…”

“Yeah.  We know.  ‘S not your fault, Hinata, Naruto’s an idiot after all.”  Kiba leads them into the restaurant, and the hostess takes them to their table.

When they’re seated, Kiba continues, “And anyway, the two of you are together now, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

She tilts her head, wondering if it’s true that it doesn’t “really matter”...

“I’m happy for you, Hinata.”  Shino smiles at her.

She gratefully returns his smile.

“Yeah, we’ve all been waiting for this,” Kiba jokes.  “Hinata, you have no idea, but this has been a long time coming between the two of you.  Good luck with him.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs.  Maybe Kiba’s right.  Maybe it doesn’t really matter what happened before, who they dated, and what they thought the other was thinking.  Because the truth is that...they love each other?

It’s a truth she’ll be able to experience later, and she’s left breathless in anticipation of the unknown.  Logically, she shouldn’t feel nervous because she knows him so much better than she ever knew Susumu...but still…

Kiba snaps his fingers in her face.  “Hey, focus on us.”

Her expression pulls down in an embarrassed frown.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just…”  She shakes her head.

Shino nods.  “You’re just happy.”

She ponders that for a second.  She was thinking, more nervous or worried, but…  She agrees.  “I am.  But not just because of Naruto-kun.  I’m so happy that I have you two as my teammates.”

Hinata knows that they feel the same way as her by their surprised yet pleased smiles.  They were and are lucky to have each other.  She couldn’t have asked for a better team.

Kiba huffs out a breath.  “Before I start crying, let’s order some food.”

“Agreed,” Shino states, unfolding the menu.

She laughs, so, so, so appreciative.

No matter what happens to them in their futures, she’ll always have Team 8.

*

He restlessly waits outside, arriving much earlier than acceptable.

He’s been waiting for this for almost exactly two weeks.  And he’s readier than he’s ever been for a date.

Because he knows exactly what to do to make her happy.  He has a lot of money in his wallet.  He’ll compliment her when she comes out.  He’ll hold the door to let her in first, he’ll pay, and he’ll walk her home.  And at the end of it all, maybe he’ll get to hug her, hold her, like he’s been yearning for, but only if she seems open to it.

Only if she wants to.

He won’t rush this.

He’ll make sure she understands how serious he is.

Because despite the break-ups, he’s learned.  And he’s not going to mess this up with Hinata.   He completely understands what he’s doing with her and what this means for them, and, he’s not just doing this for fun, or because she asked him to, or to have a girl flatter his ego.

He’s doing this because...

He hears quiet footsteps coming from beyond the wall.

The gate pulls open.

And she steps out with a tentative expression that lights up into the shyest, cutest smile he’s only ever seen on her.

He takes a deep breath, grinning, unable to contain his excitement.

“I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“Oh no,” he dismisses.  “I got here too early.  I hope I didn’t rush you.”

She shakes her head.  The truth is, she had gotten ready really early, too.  It was a surprise to see him outside when she thought she was just being too impatient.

He feels giddy, like they have so much to do, but he knows now that dates need to be taken at the girl’s pace.  That, in general, his ideas aren’t the most reliable, and that he should just let the girl pick.  He tries his best to calm all of the adrenaline dancing in his veins.  “Anywhere you want to go?”

She blinks at him.  “Oh.  Um…”  She hadn’t thought about it at all.  She had assumed that since Naruto asked her to dinner, he had someplace in mind?  Like Ichiraku?...  “I don’t really know...”

“Anywhere is fine, Hinata!” he encourages.  “Don’t worry about me, I’m up for anything.”

She bites her lips, still surprised, not ready to think of a good place for their first date.  “Um…”

He watches her smile slip into a look of discomfort.  And he realizes just as quickly...he fucking forgot.  In his excitement, he forgot to compliment her.  Kanae always wanted to see if he noticed her efforts.  Is it too late to say something?...  He looks her over to see if he needs to comment on her fashion choice.  She’s wearing her comfy-looking jacket, appropriate for a chilly night.  He remembers what she wore with her old boyfriend...how she looked...different...yet tonight, she looks like she normally does.  Jealousy pinches his gut, but he forces that down.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s not like he dressed any differently.  

Just in case, he should say something, especially if that’s why she’s being so hesitant.  And, anyway, it’s not a lie, either.  No matter what she’s wearing, no matter if she’s clean or dirty from a mission, no matter if her hair is up or down, it makes no difference to him.  “Hinata, you’re beautiful.”

She pulls out of her worries at the compliment.

His gaze is focused on her so intently.

Warmth seizes her face faster than anything else.  How could he say something like that to her so casually without warning?  Isn’t that too much?  She wasn’t even paying attention!  Embarrassment has her shaking her head, shrinking back a step, refusing to look him in the eyes again.

Her reaction isn’t what he expected.  Instead of a coy, pleased expression, she looks like she honestly doesn’t believe him!  “You are beautiful, Hinata.”  Maybe she doesn’t believe him because she didn’t dress up?  “You’re always beautiful.”

She gapes at him.  Naruto has never lied to her.  She has no reason to not believe that he actually feels that way.  She squeezes herself together, trying to gather her wits about her.  It’s hardly two minutes into their first date, and she’s already falling apart like she can’t handle him.  Naruto deserves better from her.

She takes a deep breath and forces herself to really face him.  Kiba told her that Naruto never knew how much she values him.  And right now seems to be the time to start making amends.  She steadies her gaze on his openly warm expression and finds the sparkling blue of his eyes.  “Naruto-kun, you’re the one who’s beautiful.”

He squints at her.  “What?” he can’t help bluntly asking, a weird grimace cracking open.

“I mean it,” she quietly asserts, trying desperately to keep her blush at bay.

He shakes his head and lets out an awkward laugh.  “Don’t joke like that with me, Hinata, that’s not nice...so anyway, is there anywhere you want to go?”

She blinks, jarred by how quickly he dismissed her heartfelt confession.  “I...I guess...Ramen Ichiraku would be nice.”

His brows furrow.  Why would she want to go there?  Is she just saying that because she knows it’s his favorite?  Why won’t she tell him where she wants to go?

She doesn’t trust him enough?

She didn’t like that he called her beautiful, and then she turned it into a joke, too…  Excitement begins to fade into worry.  Why…  “Hinata...we eat there all the time, it’s not special to you.  You don’t have to choose that for me,” he awkwardly mumbles out.

She tilts her head and frowns, realizing the way she worded her request.  “I do want to go to Ramen Ichiraku,” she repeats, simply and clearly.  She knows for certain that they’ll both like it.

“Uh, okay,” he relents.  And then unwilling to risk making more mistakes, he starts leading them away from the compound.

They walk together, and he tries to find words for conversation, but suddenly, he doesn’t know what to say.  He’s already somehow messed up because of course he would mess up.  So he shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps his focus on the road.

After a few streets of unusually discomforting silence from him, she can only conclude that he’s bothered.  She gathers her confidence together.  “Naruto-kun?  Do you not want to go to Ichiraku?”  Maybe he actually wanted someplace fancier?  Maybe his tastes have changed?

He shrugs.  “You know I always want to go there,” he admits.  “I just don’t want us to be going there if you don’t actually want to go.”

She...she was clear wasn’t she?  She stated very clearly that she wants to go, didn’t she?  “I want to go, Naruto-kun.  I like their ramen a lot-”  She recalls his earlier hesitation.  “-And I think Ramen Ichiraku is special.”  She smiles at him.  “It’s your favorite.  That makes it a special place to me, too.”

He processes her explanation, the reasoning almost too simple to accept.  “So...I’m not, like, forcing you or anything, right?”

She smiles wider, unsure of where he’s getting the silly idea that he might be forcing her.  “Of course not.  If I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have chosen them.”

She’s saying that like it should’ve been obvious to him…  It should’ve been.  He forgot that Hinata’s always been easily uncomplicated with him.

“We’ve eaten there together before, like you said, Naruto-kun.  And we’ve always had a good time there, right?”

He nods, recalling the same memories that she’s referring to.  It’s sudden, a soothing balm over his nerves.  Those times back then...she enjoyed them, too.

“It’s a good place,” she summarizes happily.  “It’s a special place for me.”

Not that he wasn’t certain before, but he’s even more, completely, totally sure.

He really wants this to go well.  Not just nicely, either.  He wants Hinata to have the perfect date with him.

But he has no idea now how he’s supposed to make that happen.  The date didn’t start off the way he thought it would.  It’s not going the way he thought it would.

Hinata’s not acting the way he thought she would…

Instead, she’s acting the way she’s always been.

Has it been so long since he hung out with her?  That he forgot how easy it is to just be with her...no need for plans or strategies...that whatever he thought, well, Hinata makes it so much better than that?  “You’re really amazing,” he sighs out.

She shakes her head, believing him to be exaggerating over nothing.  “Everyone knows how much you love their ramen, Naruto-kun.”  She peeks up at his gaze, glad to see that he seems slightly more relaxed than earlier.

The storefront comes into view.

“I really did expect that we would be going here tonight,” she continues.  “My heart’s been prepared, I was thinking about this all afternoon,” she laughs, breezing over the fact that it wasn’t really Ichiraku, but spending time with Naruto, that was on her mind.

He perks up at her giggle.  “My heart never even needs to get prepared, I could walk here in my sleep!”

She nods, knowing full well that he probably already has.  “Have you come in the middle of the night before?”

He raises his brows, grinning a What do you think?, and she laughs as they take seats at the counter of the familiar establishment.  “Hinata, I’ve come here at every single hour, if not every single minute, on the clock.”

She considers that his obsession sounds a little worrisome, but it’s also just so him.  “That’s impressive!”

“Yeah, it is,” he brags, proud of being a round-the-clock customer.

Ayame comes over to them, cheerily smiling.  “Naruto, Hinata, welcome!”

“Ayame-neechan, long time no see!”

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?  Now, what shall I get for you two?”

“I’ll get the large miso ramen with extra char siu.”

“I would like the same thing, please.”

His eyes widen, and he turns to stare at her.

“Got it!  Please wait for just a moment,” Ayame promises before hurrying off.

Hinata notices his shock, understands that it probably has to do with her order, but she still asks, “Ah, yes?”

He clutches his jacket over his heart, incredibly thankful to be here with her.  “You’re really amazing,” he reiterates, not knowing how else to articulate himself.

She hesitantly explains, “I had all afternoon to think about what I’d want.”

He nods, recalling the last time they ate here together, just the two of them.  “I almost forgot how much you can eat.”

She blushes, knowing it’s not exactly the most ladylike thing, but to the utmost of effort, they came all this way here, she might as well take the opportunity to eat.  “I-I thought it would be better if I just get the large serving this time instead of smaller servings.”

“Yeah, Hinata, I love it,” he bluntly states.  Then repeats as realization hits him, “I love it.”

Shyness freezes over her, and she timidly looks up at him.  She can remember the last time they came...

He expressed enthusiasm about her order for another serving, saying, “Wow, you’re eating a lot, Hinata!”

And she fumbled out in excuse, “I guess I’m just hungry…”  She actually just wanted to extend their time together.

He smiled widely, bright-eyed, excited, and eagerly ordered more for himself, too.

But this time, he carries that serious expression from earlier and leans down, ducking his head to be eye-level with her.  “Hinata, I love you.”

She can see vulnerability there, a precious, precious balance of uncertainty and trust.  Bare and unaffected.  He really means it.  Even at such a sudden moment as this, or maybe because it’s in such an inconsequential, unplanned moment, she knows he means it.  He really wants her to know it.  Emotion wells up, leaving no room for air, she can’t breathe, she can’t speak.

He straightens, starting to wonder at her silence, beginning to notice that he was expecting a response.

What he was expecting...the lack of anything empties him.  “So uh Shino wants to become a teacher?”

She blinks at the sudden topic.  She can’t let this happen again.  Kiba was right.  She hesitantly pulls on the sleeve of his jacket and draws herself closer.

Otherwise he won’t be able to hear her over the hammering in her heart.

She averts her eyes, feels the blush spreading over her face, and whispers, “I love you.”  She squeezes her eyes shut for a second and lets an easing breath out.

This somehow felt so much harder than her confession two weeks ago at his bedside, but the accompanying fluttering warmth here is much, much nicer.

She settles back in her seat.  Her gaze flicks up to his.

He smiles shyly, his pulse resetting double the pace as color floods his being.

He didn’t quite realize it, he had no idea how wonderful it would feel to hear those words returned to him.

He just carelessly tossed a part of himself out to her, expecting something, not knowing he expected those words, that exact piece of her given in exchange.

And it glows in him.

She can see it, just as much as she can feel the same blossoming within her.  She thinks that if only he could see himself, he would see how beautiful he really is.  She realizes she can’t let him get away without knowing she was being honest.  If she needs to work on letting him know how much she values him, she’s the one who needs to prove herself to him, not the other way around...  “Naruto-kun,” she whispers.  She can feel herself growing even warmer.  “I really do think you’re beautiful.”

Sudden self-consciousness grips him, and he focuses on her.

But she doesn’t let his puzzled expression deter her, not this time.  “Your smile is beautiful.  Your determination is beautiful.”  She looks away, down at the counter, as her bashfulness fights against boldness.  “Your laugh, and your bravery, and how you treat everyone...I think everything about you is beautiful.”

She timidly looks up to see his reaction, but he’s looking away now.  A hand works obvious discomfort from the back of his neck.

It reminds him of Rumi’s blind admiration.  Hinata doesn’t set him up on a pedestal, too, does she?  She’s always been kind to him, built him up in ways that others haven’t, but still...

“You are,” she whispers again, wondering now if she was too forward.

Certainly she thinks so...she actually wasn’t joking earlier...but he knows better about himself.  He shines a quick smile at her.  “Thanks.”

She can tell he’s deflecting.  After all the times she’s done that with Susumu, of course she would know.  She tries to think of a way to respond when a cry of “Oh, isn’t that Naruto-senpai!” and hushed murmurings behind them catch her attention.

“I haven’t seen him in so long!”

“Should we go over and talk to him?”

“It looks like he’s with someone, though?”

“That’s not Rumi.”

“Didn’t they break up?”

“I think so--”

She shuts them out, second-guessing how “hushed” they’re actually trying to be.  They want him to notice, don’t they...

He hears them, and Hinata’s uncertain look doesn’t quell his worries.  Bringing up Rumi?  Here?  Now?  The last person he wants Hinata to think about?  “Sorry,” he mumbles out.

“Oh, no,” she denies.  She should’ve expected this.  Like they said, she’s not Rumi…someone who successfully made her status very public in a short amount of time...approved by the general crowd for her cute and bubbly demeanor...

The girls continue talking, his anxiety climbing as their voices get louder with their approach.  He makes to stand.  “Maybe I should...” deal with them?

Hinata’s eyes dart to him, silently wishing that he wouldn’t pay them any attention.

It strikes him through.  “I’m not leaving!  Hinata, I just don’t want them to bother us!”

She nods, biting her lips, surprised that he overreacted.  “I understand.”

He hesitates, looking closely at her.  “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Once he catches the renewed faith in her eyes, he smiles, sealing his word.  He hurries out past the curtain, to the group of girls’ great excitement, and he recognizes them...

“Good evening, Naruto-senpai~”  Ahh, he should know her name.

“Are you busy?”  That girl..he’s supposed to know her name, too.

The four gather around him, and he can’t quite establish any personal space.  “Yeah, I’m busy right now.” They frown and sigh, then try to invite him out with them anyway.

In the past, he’s given in, having nowhere better to go necessarily.  That’s not close to the case now.  “I’m sorry, I’m on an important date.”  He angles his body back toward Hinata.

They immediately quiet as their eyes dart to the girl, amongst each other, back up to him with much less giddiness in their gazes.

“I see, so sorry to interrupt!” one apologizes, and he thinks that’s pretty nice of her.

“We just wanted to say hi,” another says.

He smiles and nods, tries to steadily back away from them.  “Good seeing you guys!”  He gives a wave, hopefully finalizing the end of this exchange.

As soon as he sees them nod, hears them mumble out goodbyes and next times?, he blasts an appreciative grin and completely turns around.

Slipping into the seat next to Hinata has the same sense of completing a mission.  He did it, and hopefully that didn’t take too long.  He studies her...she’s not looking at him.

“I’m sorry...” she murmurs apologetically.  

Sorry?

“Maybe you would’ve liked to-”

“No!” he interrupts, catching on almost too late.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry for all of that, for making you wait.”

She shakes her head firmly.  “No, you were really fast, but you could’ve talked to them for longer if you liked.”

It seems he also forgot how stubborn she is.  “...I didn’t want to talk to them.  I just want to talk to you.”

Her cheeks pinken.  She frowns, brows furrowing.  

“This, our date, it’s really important to me, okay?”

She turns even redder and nods.  “This is important to me, too.”

He smiles, satisfied.  “So tell me about Shino!  He really wants to be a teacher?  What made him start thinking about that?”

She sees how much he’s trying to reassure her, and how easily he does it, too, never holding back, even in a moment like this.  He leaves no room for her to doubt herself.

So she’ll stop thinking about other girls.  She’ll focus only on him.  “Have you seen Shino-kun with Mirai-chan?”

“Your sensei’s baby?  Mmm...no, I don’t think so...”  

“He’s really, really good with her, and he’s found that he likes kids a lot.  Shino-kun's always been very empathetic, very understanding, so I think he relates to them easily.”  She goes on to tell him about Shino’s expectations for the education course, and Naruto tells her about the times he’s visited Iruka’s class to assist or demonstrate.  The kids he’s met and their terrible antics.

The conversation is easy, interesting, and Hinata marvels at how none of it feels forced.

She doesn’t have to count his good points.

She doesn’t have to add up everything she admires about him.

It’s so easy to talk with him, it’s so, so cute to see him joyfully eat his ramen, and it’s just so incredible to smile at him and receive his smiles in return.

His soft gaze is indescribably warm.  Happy.  The way she’s looked at him for so long…

To feel that from him, directed at her, it’s almost too much…

But she wants this.  She wants all of it.  To feel so free to look at him.  To let her affection for him show in her gaze.  To not have to put a cap on her love, bottle it up inside and hope none of it spills.

“Be careful,” she had told herself.  But how?  How can she possibly be careful?  How can she possibly withhold all the love she’s been hurting to give him for so long?

She doesn’t want the night to end.

But eventually, they’re walking side-by-side back to her place, slowly, slowly, until there’s no more distance left to keep.

She faces him and smiles with as much appreciation as she can show.  “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Yeah, no problem.”  He has no idea how the night ended so quickly when all they did was eat.  Usually at this time, rather than only just finishing dinner, he’d be seeing Rumi off after all of the fooling around at his place--  Simply spending time with Hinata is even better than any of that perverted stuff.  “Did you have fun tonight?”

She nods and hums her affirmation.  “I did.  Thank you for everything.”

His hands ache in his jacket pockets to hold her, but he’s going to be considerate even if it kills him.

“Did you have fun, Naruto-kun?”

He nods.  “Yeah, I can’t believe how fast the time passed.  It already got so late.”

“Mhm.”  The fluttering feeling she’s felt all night continues unrelenting.  “I didn’t notice how late it got, either.”  Only now does the dark silence of the late night seem to close around them.  Only the chilling wind creates a stir, but she failed to notice that, too.

He studies her cute, shy smile, can hardly believe that she enjoyed herself as much as he did.  “Can we meet up again soon?”

“I’d really like that.”

“I don’t have a mission tomorrow.”

“Me, neither.”

“Then, tomorrow?  I can come by around 11?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both realize that the night is over.  The only thing she has left to do is turn around and head inside.

But she wonders if that’s not good enough.

She knows this was never good enough for Susumu.  And is this good enough, perfect enough, for herself?

She casts her eyes down, unwilling to let him see the wavering of her nerves.

She takes two steps, closing the space between them, and mercifully, he doesn’t back away.  Carefully, she leans into him a bit, his body warmth flushing her entire system hot.

He only just gets his hands out of his pockets to touch when she backs up, his hands left mid-air.

She’s staring at him with the funniest, shyest expression he’s ever seen.  “Good night, Naruto-kun.  Thank you for tonight.”

But he’s still trying to process the one-second hug.  “That’s not fair,” he accuses before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

“Hm?”

“You-”  He bites his lip, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to rush her.  But what’s he supposed to do with this?  How could she do something so cute and innocent?

...How innocent is she?

And with that wondering burning a small pit of jealousy in his gut, he turns his hands, showing her how she left him hanging.  “...Will you let me?”

She fidgets but nods, not making eye contact.  She takes one step forward, and that warmth surrounds her, his hands at her back, gentle.  She thinks she’s never felt anything nicer, warmer, so intimate.

To be so close to the one she loves, it’s different.

To touch the person she’s longed to touch, it’s unreal, a waking dream.  The slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes--isn’t that alarmingly amazing?  She’s too happy.  This is what she’s wanted for so long, what she didn’t want to share with anyone else.  How could she have dared to force herself to touch another man?...  Well, she didn’t know this would ever happen.  “Naruto-kun…”

“Hinata?”

“I love you.”

He squeezes her a little closer, the intimacy of her words and body turning his face hot.  Three times now, "I love you", and each time feels sweeter than the last.  “I love you, too, really.”

“Mm.”  It’s impossible for her to distrust his word.  She tightens her grip, savoring him for one more second, breathing in his warmth, before letting go and stepping back.

She can barely look at him for how happy she is, but he’s smiling with a softness that’s as smushed up as her feelings.

He’s so beautiful.

“Good night, Naruto-kun,” she manages to breathe out.

“Good night, Hinata.”  He watches her step away, give him a final, gorgeous smile, and then disappear behind the gate.

And suddenly, he’s left alone with only his heartbeat thudding out the slipping memory of her form.

It was too perfect.

He somehow messed up at the beginning, and then those girls interrupted the start of their dinner, but everything after, everything, just being with her, and then holding her, it was all perfect.

She was perfect.

When he was with Rumi, every moment was new and strange, and so he thought that’s how it must be.

Yet with Hinata?  Familiar.  Warm.  Easy.

So comforting.

The whole night was dazzlingly wonderful.  He could sprint the rest of the way home with how great he feels, give outlet to the elation jumping beneath his skin, and exclaim his delight to the stars in rushing breaths.

But he walks, choosing instead to wallow in his happiness and count his blessings quietly.  The last thing he wants to do is tempt fate to twist up his fortunes and slide him backwards like he so rightly deserves.

One wrong move, and the universe might find him unworthy of its favor.

So he makes sure to arrive on-time again the next day.

When she steps out to meet him, she looks completely different, something about her demeanor, something about her smile.  It’s not the clothing or her hair.  Something softer?  She’s not quite the daring warrior who stood at his side in the war, who protected him in battle, who’s sealed his tenketsu in spars or had dirt streaking her arms and legs after a mission.  She’s not guarded at all.

She’s just...

This Hinata is somehow...

Still, warm familiarity flutters and warms him all over.  It’s still Hinata, but this Hinata is only for him.  He just wants to protect this.  Rather than selfish, this feeling is purer than a kiss from the sun on a breezy day.

He used to feel a kind of self-gratification, a proud slickness that settled in his gut, when he walked around with Rumi.  Each date felt like an accomplishment, each step closer to her an affirmation of his growth.

The comparison is a sickening damper on his mood, and he doesn’t dwell on his ex as they head onto the shopping arcade.  “Have you tried that new game center people have been talking about?” he asks.

She shakes her head.  She doesn’t mention that she assumed it was entertainment for kids, but they are not too old, yet, right?  She can see some young teenagers crowding around machines inside the center.  “Have you?”

“No…”

“It looks fun,” she observes aloud, noting machines filled with plush toys, screens with small dancing visuals, and the obvious tension stringing groups of friends to stay glued to their games.

He grins.  “Shall we go in?”

And she nods, pleased that she read his hidden curiosity correctly.

They investigate one of the machines that advertises its mission simulation in neon lettering.  A pixelated little man jumps around the screen, dodging what they imagine must be flying kunai and leaping across trees.  Naruto tentatively hits a round button and the screen changes, names of people scrolling upwards.  He taps a different round button and the screen shifts to instructions.

“How do we play this thing?”  He jabs at a few more buttons randomly, and the words Insert Coins flash at the top.

“Um…”  Hinata looks down at the rest of the machine.  “Over there.”

They peer at the slot.

“Okay…”  Naruto opens his wallet and slips coins in until the machine makes a startling amount of music.  He stands up straight, suddenly realizing he has no idea how the game works.  He hits a button, and the man jumps.

“Maybe these buttons make you move forward,” Hinata guesses.

He presses it and the man starts running.

“Oh, jump!” Hinata exclaims as a gap in the trees appears.

He hits the button to jump, and the man leaps up…

And falls in the hole.

Game Over flashes obnoxiously red on the screen.

They stare at it for a second, dumbfounded.

“What?!” Naruto argues.  “Why did he jump in the hole?!  Let’s try again.”

“Yes, try again,” Hinata encourages.

On a second try, he gets the timing of the trees, but only makes it to the flying kunai.  “Whaaat!” he groans.  He fishes out more coins and feeds them into the machine.  “You wanna try this?  Maybe you’ll be better than me,” he laughs.

“I think I know what to do.”  She takes over and manages to get past the obstacles.

Naruto cheers her on throughout her play, then goes silent when she comes up against another little figure.  He watches her throw shuriken at it, and eventually, the figure disappears.  In its place poofs out a scroll, which her character seems to collect.

The game alerts them that she made it to level 2, where she promptly gets knocked out by a swinging log.

“Ah.”  She watches the screen mock her in giant lettering and hears the intense music fizzle out.  “Oh well,” she sighs.

“You made it to the next level!” he congratulates her.  “Do you want to try again?”

She considers it for a second.  She gets the feeling that she could be really good at this game if she kept playing, but then Naruto might get bored.  “Maybe let’s look at the other games?”

“Hmmm.”  He scans around the room and sees one that two people seem to be playing.  “Maybe we can try something like that?”

“Oh, we can play together!” she happily observes.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

They settle on one that’s much simpler and less realistic, playing as two mice trying to collect as many blocks of cheese as possible without getting eaten by cats in a maze-like setting.  It’s surprisingly harrowing, living the life of mice, and they both cry out in horror, then laugh, when a cat finally corners them.

He watches the smile bunching her cheeks and honestly feels relieved to see that she’s enjoying herself as they try out the different games.  The new game center was a spur of the moment idea, and he didn’t actually think she would be interested.  He’s pretty certain that Kanae and Rumi would not have been too keen on playing games that seem to be marketed for children.

When they finally decide to stop and get lunch at Ichiraku, they discuss the new experience, marveling at the technology.

“It’s like a television, but you can interact with it!” Hinata considers aloud.  “I wonder how they did that?”

Naruto nods with equal fascination.  “They had all kinds of games, too.  Technology’s really changed in the past couple of years, hasn’t it, like people can have their own video recorders now.  Makes you wonder what they’ll come up with next, you know.”

She blinks in surprise.  Because actually, she hadn’t wondered about what will happen next.  “Hmm…”

“Like that video game we played with the ninja character.  Maybe they’ll make technology for shinobi.”

She tries to imagine what they could possibly need, but comes up empty.  “...Like what?”

He shrugs.  “Maybe different tools or medic-related things?  I have no idea,” he laughs.

“Hmm…  Technology that could make our work safer somehow would be nice.”

“Yeah.  Or make communication faster when we’re on the job.  There’s a lot of things we can do to ensure more safety for shinobi.  Technology might be the key to that.”

She hums in thoughtful agreement.  “You’ll be a great Hokage, Naruto-kun.”

He draws out of his musings and looks at her.  His lifelong dream is more believable to the general public than it ever was before, but it’s still surprising to hear that kind of simple confidence in him.

She just took a mouthful of ramen, so she can’t do much to address his look.  She tries to give him a closed-lipped smile and swallow as quickly as she can.  “You’re always thinking about the future for us.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, inexplicably shy when usually he'd be peacocking at the recognition.  Dazed, he slurps up more of his ramen to fill the silence.

She watches him eat through his blush, and she’s glad that at least this time, he’s taking her compliment without argument or deflection.

She sees that slowly but surely, they’ll grow more comfortable in each other’s presence.  She looks forward to the day when he’ll acknowledge all that she sees in him.  When that day will be exactly, she doesn’t know.  Around 10 years worth of admiration and love would be a lot for anyone to take on, but she’ll do her best to convey all of it to him.  In words and action.

So she lets herself enjoy his careful hug at the end of their date.  It’s still daytime, and anyone could see them, but it’s still just as amazing as the night before.  “Today was fun, Naruto-kun.  Thank you.”  She readies her heart for the separation, committing his warmth to memory, and steps back.

“Thank you, Hinata.  I had a lot of fun, too.”  He already misses her.  He can’t wait for the next time, but…  “I’ll see you when I come back from my border patrol.”

She nods.  “Be safe.”

His heart grows heavy, the knowledge of a perfect date coming to an end disappointing.  “You, too, if you get called for a mission in the meantime.”

“Of course.”  She smiles to make her promise with confidence, and she can see his promise to return safely in his eyes, too.

*

In any downtime, he finds himself musing on Hinata.  He’s eager to see her smile, hear her laugh, and hold her again.  And supposedly she’s returning from a mission today after another week apart.

So he weaves through the busy throngs of people as he heads to the Hokage’s Office.  He’ll be helping with some administration duties, and if he’s lucky, he’ll get to see her while he’s there.

He enters the spacious lobby, and instead, his hopeful look around lands on a small brunette.

Rumi with her team.

He hasn’t seen her since that awful night.  Eyes averted, he walks past them with as normal a rushed gait as possible to the stairs.

“Naruto.”

And he stops, her voice, once so intimate to him, freezing him in anxious guilt.  He turns back to see her.

Her gaze is steely, slightly pinched with a look akin to anger, but he’s not sure.  Distrust?  Hatred?  Any of those is what he deserves.

But he doesn’t have any idea as to why she would call out to him.  “Rumi,” he murmurs.

And she grimaces.  She strides forward, leaving her teammates sides, who are both in unfriendly stances toward him.  She takes an obvious breath as she looks up.  Her brows furrow, and he realizes, he’s the enemy.  “I want to hear it from you.”

He waits for clarification.

She takes another breath.  “You’re dating...Hinata-san.”

He watches how she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t look at all broken like that night.  She’s hard, defenses up, prepared for his blow.  It’s relieving, while simultaneously condemning him even more on his folly.  He misjudged her strength.  “...Yeah,” he quietly affirms.

He hears the doors open, and he looks up.

It’s Team 8.

He sees Hinata’s bewilderment at the situation, how her eyes widen, her pace slows.

“You’re the worst.”  Rumi’s voice, scathing.

He looks back to her, alarmed by such an unfamiliar tone from her.

Her eyes squint with obvious scorn.  She shakes her head.  “I can’t believe you.  I really-”  She takes a step back.  “You disgust me,” she gasps out.  She turns around, rejoins her team, and walks out without hesitation.

He stands there stunned.  He can’t bring himself to acknowledge Team 8’s uneasy presence, he can’t look at Hinata.

“We’ll go turn in our report,” Kiba murmurs.

Kiba and Shino leave.

He wishes she didn’t see that.  Then he could at least try to pretend this never happened, suppress this memory like everything else he does when it comes to Rumi.  He just wants to do better, be better.  Move on.  He doesn’t want Hinata to see what a disaster he’s been in the past.

She draws closer, though unsure of what to say.  She can make a good guess as to why Rumi said those things to him.   From what little Naruto told her at the hospital and what Sakura told her after, it seems like he broke up with Rumi so that he could be with her.  If she didn't know that, then of course Rumi would be hurt to find out…  “Naruto-kun?” she whispers.

He finally glances at her, surprised to see only concern in her eyes.  “Sorry…”  He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, he just feels like he should.

“No…”  She tries to dig for words to set him at ease.  It’s obvious his break-up was bad, much messier than her own.  And as far as she knows, he broke up with Rumi only about a month ago, or even less, for about the time that they’ve been together.  Was their relationship just too soon?  What can she say?

“...I’ll talk to you later, Hinata…”

“Oh, okay.”  She watches him run up the steps and disappear.  Is it her place to follow?  Or is this where she needs to give him space?

She decides to do what she must do.  First, she goes to report in with the Hokage and help her team.  Then after she’ll go looking for him, at least to tell him that she’s available.

He hurries to the Analytics Office to log data with Shikamaru.  He can bury himself in work, be productive at the same time, and hide from humiliation.

He was such a fool to date Rumi.  If he had never dated her, he would have never made such stupid mistakes, hurt her, wasted her time, wasted his own time, made Hinata wait, made Hinata date that guy, made himself sick and jealous.  If he had just figured out Hinata’s feelings sooner, or if he had figured out his own feelings sooner.

If he had been smarter or more mature.

If he hadn’t been so foolish...

She hovers in the doorway, hesitant to bother him, when he seems to be ignoring her.  But she finally steps in, making her presence obvious.

He looks up, surprised. “Hinata...Sorry, I can talk to you later…I need to help Shikamaru with all of this.”

She nods, wondering if she should have given him more space.  He already promised to talk to her later after all, and so maybe she didn’t need to go looking for him.

“How annoying,” Shikamaru groans, looking up from his journal.  “I don’t need help.”  He looks pointedly at Naruto.  “No need to put on a professional front, you missed her, right?  You can thank me later.”

Naruto gapes at his friend.  His excuse from confronting his stupid life taken away, just like that.  “There’s still a lot left.”

“Just go.”

“But I’ve only helped for less than a hour.”

“You can just come back after.”

“I-it’s okay, Shikamaru-san.”  Each of Naruto’s protests tears at her a little.  If he needs more time away from her, then she should give that to him.  She didn’t realize that she’s been getting spoiled by the last two dates.  “I didn’t mean to bother, I just wanted to tell Naruto-kun that I’m free this afternoon.”

He can feel the emotional distance he’s putting between them, but it just feels like the right thing to do for now.  His mind is so scattered with regret.  He wishes he never dated Rumi.  He wishes he never got so full of himself.  He wishes he wasn’t so stupid, so disgusting, the worst.  “...Sorry, Hinata, I don’t want to leave Shikamaru with all of this.”

“I understand.”  She smiles to show that she really does.  “Both of you are working really hard.  I’ll be checking in at home, then, okay?”

Her smile cuts him.  He’s obviously not doing the right thing, but what is the right thing in this case?  “Alright, I’ll see you later, Hinata.”  He watches her turn away, disappear from view.  But for now, just for now, he can’t talk to her.  She said she understands, right?  Can she tell that he doesn’t know what to do or say?

“What a drag.  If you’re going to look so forlorn, then why the hell are you staying here?”

His gaze darts to his friend.  “I’m not ‘forlorn’!”

Shikamaru presses his hand to his forehead, like he might have a headache.  “I don’t want to ask.  I’m asking anyway.  What happened?  You missed her all week, didn’t you?”

“...Yeah.”  He frowns at the desk, not wanting to talk about this at all.

“...And?!”

“...And I saw Rumi downstairs.”

“...So?”

“Hinata saw us.”

“........So?!  Isn’t that more reason to make sure that Hinata didn’t get the wrong idea?”

Naruto sits up, confused.

“Or are you thinking of breaking up already and going back to Rumi.  Is that what happened?”

“No!”  He stands, indignant at the suggestion.  “Of course not!”

“Then why didn’t you want to talk to Hinata?  She just came back from her mission.”

All of the fight drains out of him.  “...I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s not like you,” Shikamaru intones.  “Out of all of the times to choose to think first and act later, you’re choosing now to hesitate?”

“What do you mean?  I just don’t know how to act!  Rumi said some stuff in front of everyone, and it was really bad, embarrassing.  I’m not hesitating!”

“What did Rumi- No, it doesn’t matter.  You don’t have to say or act anything special, Naruto.  You should at least just greet Hinata properly.”

“...You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.  Get out of here already,” he sighs.

“Yeah.  Sorry, Shikamaru.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says carelessly and waves him off.

He runs out of the building, and it doesn’t take long at all to catch up.  “Hinata!”

She turns at his voice, surprised, but glad.  “Naruto-kun!”

He walks in pace with her, energy falling just as quickly.  “I’m sorry.”

She frowns.  “No?  There’s nothing to apologize for.  I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I didn’t mean to be impatient.”

“No, I’m sorry for...earlier, and just now...”  

The sight of Naruto and Rumi’s confrontation bothered her, but she doesn’t think she should push him about it.  She’s not sure it’s her place to ask what happened.  But she does want to know if… “Are you okay?”

He shrugs.  “Yeah.”  He still feels shitty about all of it, but it’s not like Rumi said anything untruthful.  He already knows he’s the worst.  And at least there’s some reprieve in knowing that...that he disgusts her…

She tries to assess his serious expression.  Should she ask?  Should she give him space?  Do people talk about their exes with their new partner?  In the past, he just talked about Kanae without any curiosity on her part, so she’s never had to ask before.  “...Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

She nods silently.

“Ah!!” he shouts in realization.  “I didn’t go up to her myself or anything like that, Hinata!  She asked me if I was dating you, and I said yes, and then..yeah.”

She stares for a second, surprised by his sudden outburst, but she nods even harder.  “I...I kind of thought so.”

He lets out a quiet sigh of relief.  He realizes that Hinata could have interpreted everything differently.  Like Shikamaru said, she could have suspected he approached Rumi first.  But she didn’t.  She trusted him.  Out of her forgiveness, he somehow didn’t ruin the faith she’s putting into their new relationship.  He can't take her patience for granted.  He needs to try harder.  He needs to do better for Hinata.

He stops in his tracks.

Noticing that he’s not keeping up, she turns around.  “Naruto-kun?”

“You know that I’d never cheat on you, right?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to her at all.

“You know that my...previous relationships...don’t compare to this, how I feel for you?”

She feels a blush rise.  “...Naruto-kun...you said something similar before…”  Of course she didn’t forget!

“I’m sorry I dated them, I wish I never dated them.  I wish I realized my feelings for you earlier, and I wish I only had had you this whole time.”  The regrets that clamored about his mind rush out, and in his vulnerability, he watches, afraid that he’s only reminding her of his mistakes.  Where does she draw the line in her patience?  In her forgiveness?

“N-Naruto-kun,” she stutters out, flustered, “I didn’t think you were cheating on me.”  It’s true that at the start of their relationship, she told herself to be careful, but he’s since given her the same concentrated attention that he would to a mission.  She hasn’t once felt like his affection is a lie.

“Hinata…”

She nods.  She swallows down the butterflies.  “I get to be with you now, and I’m very happy.  I’ve never been happier.  So, don’t worry about me.”

Her warm smile sets him at ease.  How fortunate is he to have someone like Hinata willing to deal with him?  And on top of that, be happy about it?  “I hope I can keep you happy.  I’ll make sure you’re happy all the time.”

Her expression scrunches up.  She doesn’t know whether to smile or reprimand him for such silly yet earnest promises.  She can’t handle it.  She shakes her head, and looks down.  “Naruto-kun, that’s too much.”

Too much?  “No, it’s not.  It’s my job as your boyfriend.”  If she’s not happy with him all the time, then she’ll leave.  It’s the very least of his duties!

She meets his gaze again, slightly perplexed.  “This isn’t your job, please don’t think of this as your job.  When it’s us, it’s just us.  Of course, I want to make you happy, too, Naruto-kun, but happiness is something we do together, right?  We’re a team?”

“A team…”

“If we have bad days, or if we ever disagree on something, we work through it together, and we come out happier together.”

“Bad days?  I’ll never let you have a bad day, Hinata!”

“W-what!” she laughs.

“I’ll protect you from everything bad, and we’ll never fight or argue or anything like that!”

“Naruto-kun!” she protests.

He knows it sounds silly, but he means it.  “I never want to make you sad or mad.”  ...It strikes him that he’s made this promise before, truly believing he would hold his end up.  And he didn't, his words far lighter and more easily broken than he could have ever realized of himself.  Now, a heavy shame he doesn't even know how to hold.

“I never want to make you sad or mad, either."  She wonders at his sudden downcast expression, if he's still thinking about Rumi, and if he always puts so much pressure on himself for his relationships.  She doesn't want to be another weight on his shoulders.  She just wants to see his smile.  "If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”  She gazes up at him, hoping he sees that she needs nothing else.  

Before her, his past guilt is forced back so easily.  Everything with Hinata is so easy.  He would have never known.  He hurt Rumi for a reason, he broke that promise because they both have better things to move on to.  Each moment with Hinata affirms his decision.  No matter how selfish it was, if Hinata's happy, then it was worth it.  She makes everything worth it.  “I’m happy if you’re happy, too.”

Pink fills her cheeks as her smile brightens.

“Thank you for being my teammate, Hinata.”

She can’t help fidgeting from his sweetness.  “Thank you for being my teammate, Naruto-kun.”

He lets her returned affection settle in, calm the vestiges of his anxiety.  He’s constantly afraid that he’s going to mess up, but Hinata makes it seem as if he’s been doing fine this whole time.

It makes him hopeful that they will last.  Past one month, today, tomorrow, next month, next year.  This is only the start, but he’s already made so many promises to make up for everything he's lacking.

At the very least, he needs to prove his word is worth her faith.

That he has love, the real thing, behind each of his pitiful apologies.

He wants to start giving, not always receiving.  Even if she says she's already happy, he knows he can do so much more.  But how?

[bellemorte180]

I have a request!!! Modern day OG!KC after Caroline is turned with Klaus in the 11th century

Drabble number seven!

Year 1001 AD

The hut was dark as Caroline’s eyes fluttered opened. She was lying on the floor of Mikael and Esther’s home, staring at the dim ceiling. Her body ached and everything seemed hazy. Her gums burned and the back of her throat felt parched. She turned over, trying to remember how she got there and why she felt so wrong.

“Caroline.” She turned to see her husband crouching beside her. Klaus’s eyes were filled with sorrow and fear; but there was a hint of relief behind them. She reached up to touch his face; pushing a curl of his dirty blonde hair from his eyes. “I thought you were not going to wake. I thought that the magic did not work on you.”

“Magic?” The night before flashed before her blue eyes. She remembered arriving at her in-law’s hut with Klaus for an evening meal in remembrance of Henrik. She remembered the elaborate meal and how the wine tasted off; almost as though it was infused with a substance that Caroline had never had before. She remembered watching Mikael stab her husband with his sword as she cried and begged him to leave him be; Esther holding her back the entire time. She remembered the pain of the same sword being shoved through her abomined. “They killed us.”

“Yes.” Klaus whispered. Caroline sobbed lightly, the memories of their marriage flowing through her. After Klaus convinced her that his love for her was true and sincere, Caroline finally allowed herself to fully fall for him. They were supposed to grow old together and have children. In hindsight, she knew that Klaus kept his promise; he loved her till their dying day; it just came for sooner than either expected.

“How?”

“You need to drink.” Klaus said urgently, pulling a young girl towards them who was covered in bite marks and appeared to be near death. Caroline looked at the body of the girl; and the smell of her blood caused the pain in her gums to increase. “You need to drink, and I promise you that I will explain. Just. Drink. Please.”

Klaus’s words drowned out as the piercing in her gums became more painful and her thirst overtook her. The faint heartbeat of the girl pounded in her ears and Caroline felt the monster under skin appear for the first time. She bites down on the girl’s wrist and let the blood flow over her lips. The feeling was euphoric. She drained the girl of her remaining blood and Klaus ran his fingers through her light blonde curls. When she pulled away and the girl’s dead body crumpled to the floor; she realized that everything had changed.

A millennium later.

Mystic Falls, to which had been named centuries after they fled their small village, had changed since she had last been inside the town’s boarders. Gone where the huts, dirt paths and farms that she had loved only to be replaced with a small out of the way town overrun by vampires. It almost seemed fitting with it being the land where vampires where created.

She drove slowly through town and parked in front of the manor that Klaus was remolding for them; the address easy to find. Her heels clicked against the stone as she climbed the few stairs leading into the home. The manor was large, unfinished and would one day be grand. The manor reminded her of all the dreams Klaus and Caroline shared together over the centuries; and Caroline was not a fool to think that Klaus planned it otherwise. He built this place for her.

Klaus wanted her here; drawing her in with hopes that she will never leave again. It wasn’t that Caroline left often, only twice in their marriage, but when she did, it was for a long period of time. It had been about fifty years since she saw her husband and the rumors echoing throughout the supernatural world made her set down her own white flag and travel across the ocean. No longer were their rumors of the Curse of the Sun and the Moon flying around but instead, a tale that Klaus became something more. Caroline knew what it meant.

Her husband broke his curse.

Entering the manor that was still under construction, Caroline looked around and closed her eyes. She could feel him. He was there and it wouldn’t take long before he sensed her presence. A millennium of marriage forged a bond between them, even when they angered one another. A second later, Caroline felt Klaus flash over to her and she grabbed him by the throat; pinning him to the ground.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” Klaus’s smirk was infuriating, seeming all too comfortable under her grip. In response, she just squeezed harder and allowed the monster under her skin to come out and play. “Come now Caroline, you know I adore that monster of yours.”

“Show me. I want to know if it is true.” Caroline narrowed her eyes, watching every movement Klaus made. There was a shift and Klaus’s turned gold. His fangs where sharper, eyes fiercer and she saw it; she saw his wolf lingering in his eyes. “You did it. You really did it.”

“You should have seen it, Love. It was glorious.” Klaus replied, causing a small dig at Caroline. The argument they had in the sixties that caused Caroline to walk out, with the knowledge that she would eventually return, over the daggering of his siblings. The daggering was a sore spot for Caroline, devolving from the fact that he daggered Caroline in 1492 when he was trying to break his curse the first time. Despite that last time they spoke was in anger, the smirk he wore told Caroline that he was no longer angry with her. She too had gotten over their fight and simply missed him.

Caroline leaned down and kissed him passionately. She straddled his hips and ground down onto him covered member. Klaus wrapped his arms around her, weaving his fingers through her hair while Caroline kept her hand on his throat. A cough sounded from above them and Caroline pulled away from her husband.

“Um, am I interrupting?” A voice came from the other side of the room. Caroline snapped up and grabbed the vampire who interrupted them; slamming them against the wall. He fought her but he was so young that Caroline overpowered him easily. “Call off the guard dog Klaus!”

“Let him down, Love. I think the is here trying to make a deal on behalf of his traitorous brother.” Klaus replied and Caroline looked over her shoulder at him. On his request, Caroline dropped Damon to the ground. Klaus came up behind Caroline and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I think you’d like to get to know him, Caroline. He is Stefan’s brother. Remember him? That boy Rebekah loved?”

“This is Damon Salvatore? The brother Stefan pinned over during the twenties?” Klaus nodded, confirming Caroline’s question. “I thought he’d be more handsome.”

“Want to make the introduction, Satan?” Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at the two of them; rubbing his neck as he went. “What to let me know why I was just attacked by a barbie doll?

“Be careful Damon, I’ve seen her rip men twice your size in two” Klaus chuckled, kissing the side of Caroline’s head. “I’d like you to meet Caroline.” Klaus introduced her with a kiss on her head. “My wife.” The look on Damon’s face was comical. His eyes grew wide and they darted between Klaus and Caroline.

“Wait. What? Since when do you have a wife?!” Damon focused on Caroline, taking her in. He could admit that she was attractive. Tall, blonde and far older than him. The age rolled of Caroline like a bolder and Damon was unsure what to think. “Who would marry you? And where was she when you decided to drain the life out of Elena?”

“We had fight. I was over it, but she was being stubborn.” Klaus muttered, waving his hand as though he was dismissing the fight that kept them apart for decades. In truth, since they were vampires a few decades were nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“I was being stubborn? Seriously!? I was in Paris!” Klaus froze there for a second. His eyes snapping to her and the weight of what she just said hit him like a ton of bricks. Paris was their white flag. Whenever they had a fight and were ready to make up, they would go to Paris and make their presence known. The other would follow. “I made it obvious that I was there. I threw parties, had few massacres and hell, I even threw orgy hoping you would show. But nope, you never did.”

“Caroline-“

“But then I hear that you’re making waves in Mystic Falls after a century of silence. People were starting to forget that the Original vampires were more than just a fairy tale. When the rumors of a doppelgänger surface, I knew why you didn’t come. Why you didn’t even notice. I thought you no longer wanted me.”

“I vowed to love you for eternity, that hasn’t changed.” Klaus told her in a broken tone. His shoulders sagged and Caroline smiled brightly. She jumped into his arms and kissed him hard. Their lips molded together, and Caroline pressed her body against him. Klaus’s hands trailed over her curves; thrusting his hips into her as he went.  

“Well this is awkward.” Damon coughed, shamelessly watching the two of the with a bemused expression. They broke apart and gazed at him with annoyed expressions. “You summoned me here Klaus to discuss my brother, not to have me watch you dry hump your estranged wife.”

“Wait, what about Stefan?” Caroline asked. “What am I missing?”

“Stefan stole the coffins love. He wants me to leave town, leave the doppelgänger alone, see he is in love with her, so is that one over there actually, and promised to give them to me one every decade or so.” Caroline narrowed her eyes at Klaus and crossed her arms. “He has been killing my hybrids and threatening to drop the coffins in the ocean.”

“I see” Caroline narrowed her eyes at Klaus and cross her arms. “I guess I have to clean up another one of your messes.” This is what happens when they fight. She leaves for a short time and everything falls into chaos. She rolled her eyes and turned to Damon with her hand outstretched. “Dial your brother and give me your phone.”

“What? No.”

“Do it. Now.”

“I’d do it Damon. She can get a bit testy when she doesn’t get her way.” Caroline shot Klaus a very unamused look and turned back to Damon with narrowed eyes. The young vampire scowled and pulled out his phone; dialing Stefan’s number before placing the phone in the palm of her hand.

“Thanks.” Caroline pressed the phone to her ear and with her free hand, grasped Damon’s neck and snapped it; his body crumpling to the ground. She listened to the phone ring; waiting for Stefan to answer it. After a second, the line clicked on and Stefan answered.

“What do you want Damon?”

“Stefan! It’s Caroline.” The stillness on the other line told Caroline exactly what she wanted to know. He remembered her. She lifted her eyes upward to meet Klaus’s. He was watching her with a curious gaze, unsure of what she was going to do. “From what I understand you have my family held hostage.”

“I’ll give you the same deal as I gave Klaus. Leave town and I’ll give you a coffin every decade or so. If not, I’ll kill every hybrid your husband has sired to him and drop your family into the ocean.” Stefan told her in a cool tone.

“See this is where my husband and I differ. I don’t care about the hybrids. Kill them. String them up and torture them for all I care.” Klaus blanched to argue but Caroline held up her finger, silencing him. “But if you do not give me my family back by the end of the day, I’ll rip Damon’s heart out and send it to you along with his head. If you still don’t give me my family back. I will track down that doppelgänger you’re so fond of, turn her into a vampire and torture her for all of eternity.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Caroline chuckled in a pleased tone. “I will also burn this entire town to the ground for good measure; can’t have friends left behind who might want to avenge her after all.” Caroline watched as Klaus walked over to Damon’s body and lifted him up. He placed him into a chair and grabbed some rope to bind him with. “Oh, and one final thing. You even drop one of those coffins into the ocean, I will string you alongside the woman you love and make you watch as I rip her intestines out over and over again before I feed them to you. You have until sundown.”

Caroline ended the call and bit her lip; watching Klaus work. The two of them most likely were going to pass the day torturing this vampire until his brother brought the coffins in exchange for him. Klaus, despite being irritated at the fact that Caroline was more than happy to sacrifice his hybrids, would go along with the plan. He was never one afraid to argue his point with her but he just got her back.

“Did you really have to sacrifice the hybrids?”

“Oh, don’t pout.” Caroline snapped. “I’m home now so what on earth could you possibly need them for?” Klaus grunted but said nothing. “What if I make you a deal? If Stefan fails to bring us the coffins, we will kill Damon, kidnap the doppelganger and before I turn her, I will let you drain her of all her blood in order to make more hybrids.” Klaus eyed his wife and thought on her officer.

“Fine.”

“Perfect.” Caroline said cheerfully. She walked over to Klaus and kissed him lightly on the lips. “See, compromise. We are not completely awful at it!”

[ariquar]

greymoor spoilers in this! watch out!! 

He brings Fennorian different alchemical reagents just to see his face light up. There's something uniquely charming about the way his eyes widen as he takes the wooden boxes and leather satchels of plants and bones and animal parts, the way Laurent can see the strange red and pink in his eyes as he looks through individual pieces of rare flowers. Every time, Fennorian looks at him with a wide grin and thanks him, his pointed teeth peeking out from his lips before his expression turns self-conscious and he covers his mouth or turns away, beginning to ramble on about the properties of whatever it was he'd been gifted with.

Laurent finds himself determined to pull that smile onto his face more often. They both are constantly busy - between helping Jarl Svana and staying on the lookout for where the Harrowstorms appear, times where they  can focus on personal projects are few and far between. Even less are the times where they spend just a moment to converse, to wind down, to talk about their pasts. Mjolen helps when she can - because of course she does, being someone around most often who can help Fennorian with certain ingredients of a more sacred nature - and encourages them to take a second to be young, go on, she can handle this.

 It’s one of those times, after Laurent handed over a box of bones he’d collected from a deer on his trek back to Solitude, where Mjolen ushers the both of them away, making a comment about how they should let the old woman take care of the monotonous things for them and they should enjoy their youth.

Fennorian notes that he's likely a bit older than she thinks, which gets him a pinch on the ear before she shoos him away. Mjolen laughs as they turn up the stairwell, and Laurent glances at Fennorian's face as he heads up.

"So," he says, adjusting his satchel - still smelling like dirt and plants from his errands for Fennorian, "Some quiet time. What do you want to do?"

Fennorian looks perplexed upon being asked.

"I… don't spend a lot of time in the city." He says, and Laurent knows that.

"We could go camping somewhere," he says, and they both know that that runs the risk of them being caught by someone unknowing of Fennorian's friendly status. "Or go through Svana's library?"

A better suggestion, they figure, and head up into the Blue Palace. Svana greets them with a wave from between a couple of Thanes vying for her attention, and they pass quickly through the halls of the palace and into the study and library on the quiet end of one of the wings. Nobody is in the library, not now, and so Fennorian busies himself with finding old history texts and legends of the area. Laurent, however, with little interest in such things, sits back at one of the long tables and pulls some paper and charcoal from his satchel and begins tracing delicate shapes. 

From one stroke comes the ear of a hare, details etched in with the sharper edge of the charcoal. The hare stares at him from the paper as it takes form. Below that, from memory, comes a bear's snout and nose, and then he switches to another section and starts a wolf, lips curled back, which he abandons to try his hand at a humanoid figure, vague and featureless until his hands absentmindedly begin filling in the edges with familiar looks until his eldest brother sits on the page, grinning from beneath a curled mustache. Laurent rolls his eyes and then rolls the paper, pulling a new parchment. The emptiness of the page feels overwhelming, as it always does. Fennorian settles in across from him with four large tomes, giving him a gentle smile before flipping open to the section he wants and begins reading.

Laurent purses his lips. Stares at the way Fennorian sits, so still, so focused, and takes that as his inspiration. It's easier with a frame of reference, he thinks, and Fennorian makes a good, steady image for him to copy. The page of Fennorian's book turns but his expression stays the same, focused and interested wholly on the texts before him.

So Laurent continues. He keeps filling in the various shades across his face, the gentle curl of his hair over his face. The dark areas under his eyes, like he hasn't slept in some time. 

He probably hasn't. Do vampires sleep, Laurent thinks, and vaguely recalls Fennorian at one point complaining about being tired. So maybe. 

He catches Fennorian glancing at him, pretending not to see what he's doing. Laurent laughs as he sees the way Fennorian steels his expression, cheeks coloring, and shakes his head.

"It's not natural anymore," Laurent chuckles, and waves him to join him on his side. 

"Sorry," Fennorian apologizes. He slides his book across the table and moves around the table to sit with Laurent, elbows touching as Laurent pulls older work from his bag.

"I never knew you did this," Fennorian admits, looking over a particularly detailed section of a ship. An older paper, smudged lightly, of his father's vessel back in Daggerfall.

"It's a hobby," Laurent says, shrugging. "I just like to copy what I see."

"You do it well." There's something like amusement in Fennorian's tone. "Is this one Lyris?"

He points out one paper with an unfinished figure, sitting with their back against a half-drawn tree. 

"Yes, but she got up before I could finish." 

“Sounds like her,” Fennorian says, and looks over the other papers that Laurent pulls free. Animals, scenes - Laurent says, quietly, that he prefers to draw living things, since it’s more of a challenge than something that sits still.

Fennorian raises a brow at that.

“Yet you were drawing me.” He teases, and Laurent looks at him with pursed lips and furrowed brows.

“Yes, but you’re… still…” He swallows. “Alive? Undead? Alive, you’re definitely alive.”

The laugh that gets him is worth the stumbling. Fennorian covers his mouth as he laughs, which is somehow sweeter than him simply laughing, and Laurent feels his face flush.

“You’re right, I suppose.” Fennorian says, and leans one elbow on the table, still covering his mouth. His opposite hand rests on the table.

Laurent chances it. Gently inches his hand closer to Fennorian’s, fingers gently reaching for his. He tries not to stare as he does it, looks away and feigns innocence - but all that earns him is a surprise as Fennorian turns his hand so it’s palm-up, their fingers gently resting together in the faintest impression of hand-holding either of them has experienced. 

Not sure where to look, Laurent finally glances at their hands and then up at Fennorian’s face, just to see him smiling. It makes his chest feel warm, just as it always has, the chances they’ve gotten before. But this time it feels like it’s different, like maybe, finally, this quiet moment is what they need to act on things. Laurent pulls himself closer into Fennorian’s space, and Fennorian drops the hand over his face, pulls their hands apart so he can turn his torso to face him. His hand rests, now, on Laurent’s upper arm, and Laurent finds that he has no idea what to do with his own hands.

He leans up, slightly. Fennorian tilts his chin, lips parted, and it feels like he's going to kiss him. Laurent catches the brief feeling of an exhale on his lips, and he thinks that if this is a dream please let it end after this, after he gets to kiss him. 

Laurent smiles. Fennorian laughs, another puff of air on his face, and just as they brush together -

"Fenn! Laurent!" Svana's voice calls out. They pull apart from each other, faces flushing, and scoot down the benches. 

"Over here," Fennorian shouts, and Laurent can hear the shakiness in his voice. 

He grabs at his hand. 

Fennorian smiles at him, again, and squeezes his fingers.

Svana finds them, settles in across from them, and apologizes for not greeting them properly earlier. Under the table, Laurent runs his thumb over Fennorian's hand, warming his cool skin ever so slightly. It is, quite possibly, one of the best things Fennorian has felt in some time.

[bowieandqueen11]

Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: May I request an Adult Ben Hanscom imagine where the reader, who is married to Ben, is down in the sewer with the Losers and gets pulled under water by Penniwise? Our man Ben needs some reassurance from his wife that she's okay. Fluffyness! 🥰 

@may85 eek thank you darling!! <3

Warning, some swearing!

You wished, with all your heart, that you never had to smell the stench of this place again.

When you all finally arrived into the depths of the sewer, Mike and Bill leading the way as everyone else trailed so slowly, so unsure, behind them, that’s when you finally allowed your heart to sink.

This was real. This was actually happening. You’re no longer thirteen, you no longer have an excuse, a way out, a way to forget this. You either die here, or you die out there. 

The water the gang jumps down into is a turbid brown, the colour of sewage, or as Eddie fondly calls out again,

‘It’s still the same old fucking grey water.’ 

Branches have been blow in by the storm, and you gag a little, pressing your face into your husband’s thick back as he raises his eyebrows, wrapping one arm around your own as the two of you watch a small, glittery pink shoe swirl pass, like a relic from a time long forgotten as it floats by without a ripple.

‘Was that- was that Betty Rip-’

‘Don’t think about it hun’, Ben whispers, his thumb trying to tenderly stroke against the goosebumps that flash painfully against your arm, but his grip is tighter than he realises and he ends up digging in a small welt. The water eddies around them, but not that relaxed way water usually does: harshly, more like mini vortexes. You can hear Richie swear softly in front of you as Eddie bumps into him, loud ‘ah-ah, nope nope nope’s escaping his mouth as a half chewed teddy bear floats by his chest.

‘Come on guys, we need to get out of the water, it’s n-not f-far now.’

‘Is that supposed to reassure us?’, Richie whispers with a sigh, slapping his wet leg up onto the jagged stone mound as Eddie reaches down to help him up, his flashlight bouncing around on his head and illuminating different patches of the water in a shimmering light that reminds you of-

the deadlights.

Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat you know. It takes what it does not need. The water surges around your skin, rising up my leg on one side, making tiny eddies on the other the further you follow your friends. The weight of the water is almost enough to topple you, the temperature a dare, as if you were racing hypothermia with each wade through its murky depths. In front of you, your husband shivered against your arm, the water so cold it stung into his hips and flattened his shirt against him painfully. Every touch stole another part of his heat, leaching away a few more fractions of a degree. It crept up the fabric of his pants, clamping the icy fibres to his already frigid skin. But he kept going, because he knew in doing this, he could save you. And if killing a clown meant your nightmares would end, that you would be safe again, he would take on the universe one monster at a time.

Sensing your hesitation as the two of you finally start approaching the giant wall of rock where Eddie and Richie stand, brushing each other off with grimaced faces, Ben slowly turns around and pulls you slowly to him, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around your shaking body. The world around seemed to melt away as you squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through your veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside you.

‘I can’t do this Ben, not again, not after last time. What I saw-I saw-’

‘You are so brave, sweetheart, but this time, I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Plus,’ he says, elbowing you slightly with the biggest smile he can muster at the moment, ‘if you see the deadlights, I’ll just have to kiss you again to pull you out and back to me.’

‘Ben Hanscom, I swear!’, you mutter with a hoarse laugh, pulling your arms around his neck and burying your head into the curve of his shoulder. You just needed a moment, just one more moment with your husband in your arms, his hands tight against your hips, safe. 

Everything was okay.

Through the darkness behind your head came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground, if only Ben’s had been open to see them, and if only Richie and Eddie hadn’t been having a mock fight over who’s married to who’s mother.. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The monster advanced on them, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the sewer. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped, oozing great globs of phlegm and depositing them with light splashes into the water; it’s skin was gnarled, but crumpled and folded as if in the midst of changing form. Over it's belly lay crusty flaps of concave skin. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish. A smell that hit your nose with a rancid pang only a few seconds before it had reached the edge of your shoulder, and Ben had drawn himself away from his warm daydreams of you to open his eyes.

In a split second, it had torn you from Ben’s grasp and dragged you down into the depths with it.

Darkness enveloped you. The water closed in around, filling you with a deep dread as you kicked out against it’s knobbly arms and screamed against the claws that dug into your cheek and left bubbling scratches. Red and black splotches danced in front of you as you gave the clown one final desperate kick in the shin, wiggling out of its grasp as a desperate hot wave enveloped you, warming even your frosted toes. Your heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in your field of vision anymore. It was all black. You opened her mouth, gasping for air, fighting until you feel like your head is about to explode. You have to take a breath. So you do. For some reason it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would. You’re not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually. 

You begin to fall, dropping further and further into the darkness until it threatens to swallow you whole.

Ben knows he’s scared when those old fears run through my head, when he hears the taunting laughter of years past, when he was the ‘fat kid’ and punchline of teenage jokes. He knows he’s scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those dark days. 

But this time was so much worse.

The adrenaline flew over his veins like licks of fire, but he couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralysed him, and the more he thought about losing you, the more he thought each straggling breathe he pulled in as he dipped his head up above the water would be his last. If you died, he was going to die too. He didn’t remember being that scared in his life.

The rest of the group jump in after you with desperate cries, not one of them caring in the smallest bit for their safety as their stomachs and heads hit against the cold with tumultuous crashes and wake Ben from his nightmare, his own head being pulled down by his brain to desperately search for you in the darkness. Even Eddie dipped his legs in, not really swimming to search for you  so much as drowning slowly. Every few strokes he was swallowing the shitty water and within metres he was fully submerged, the light dying out with him.

It took you a few moments to register that there were other shapes, big square blocks floating around in the water with you. Something in the back of your mind seemed to recognise the sandy curls that brushed against your forehead, the callused and raw hands that grabbed at your biceps, every pinprick touch registering a shock to your skin as you allowed yourself to be taken away. You thought, as you see the face of your husband warp in front of you, that angels had finally come to take you away.

As the two of you break out of the water, Ben taking in a massive, gasping breathe, his shouts echo around the cavernous walls as the other’s begin to rise up one by one with shaking cries.

‘She’s here! She’s here, I’ve got her! I’ve got you.’

In that simple moment he wrapped his arms around you and you let your head rest upon his chest. All your thoughts stopped as if your heart took over from your head, your breathe beginning to catch itself as water spluttered up from your lungs and escaped in gasping coughs out of your lips. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check you were really there with him, really there and really real.

You looked sharply up as he took your hands into his. They felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. It suited him, you thought, looking into his deep eyes, his hands warm in yours as he brought them up to his lips, your nerves tingling at the harsh comfort of contact, your body melting into his hard chest, his heartbeat comforting, if a little rushed for your liking.

‘It’s okay, Ben, I’m okay.’

You pull your head back to look at him, your heart sinking as you reach up with a shaking finger to wipe away the tears that littered down his cheek, his lips twitching as your touch brings more relief than his heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he can't quite believe you’re not part of an almost forgotten dream. When he leans down to kiss you, it's sweet, gentle, and it tastes of his salty tears as he laughs against your warm mouth.

‘Hey, what did I say about not leaving you alone ever again? Please, don’t go, don’t go ever again, I couldn’t take it.’

[needtherapy]

to be human is a haunting, Part 3

A love story for Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen

In a modern world, in a modern city that still has need for cultivators, Song Lan

(war hero, rogue cultivator, orphan)

goes for a run in the park, kills a dankang, makes a friend, and meets a beautiful man with a dog, all before he has to go to therapy. It's the best day he's had in ten years.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Read over on AO3 instead

Rated E for Explicit sexy times, mild demon killing, and swearing.

— ⚔ — — ⚔ — — ⚔ —

Part 3

“How are you doing today?” Dr. Wen asks.

Such a simple question, one people answer every day, but Song Lan is stumped. He’s distracted and flustered, and he can’t stop thinking about the man in the park. He should just say he’s fine. That’s what people say.

“Fine.”

Dr. Wen nods thoughtfully. “It took a long time to answer. What were you thinking about?”

Fairy tales, Song Lan thinks. How people in fairy tales fall in love at first sight, and how utterly unrealistic that is. How can you know you’ll want to spend your life with someone just by the color of their hair or the suggestion of a wide, graceful smile, or the shape of their body in the distance? That can’t be all love is.

“Nothing,” he says.

— ⚔ —

They make it to the bed eventually, after Song Lan has the absolute pleasure of peeling off Xingchen’s bespoke jacket and vest, unbuttoning the white shirt that is made of the softest cotton he’s ever felt, unbuckling his belt, removing his pants and being rewarded with the sight of his gorgeous, glorious body.

“Is it what you hoped?” Xingchen asks when Song Lan is quiet and motionless for a little too long, and he sounds almost nervous.

Song Lan touches the array of tiny freckles on Xingchen’s chest

 eight

 a constellation of stars

and smiles at him, an easy smile, a smile that feels natural and joyful and right.

“It is. You are,” he says honestly.

Even the things that shouldn’t be sexy—Xingchen nudging him to roll, the question “is this okay,” the condom, the sound of lube—are torment, and by the time Xingchen’s fingers are inside him, moving, dragging harsh, guttural moans from him, Song Lan is hard again, so aroused he’s fairly sure he’s going to finish before Xingchen.

He lifts his hips up more to make it easier, to get Xingchen in faster, and Xingchen laughs at how desperately eager he is.

“So greedy, Zichen. I should make you wait a little longer. I’m sure I can hold out,” Xingchen says, but his hands on Song Lan’s back are trembling, and Song Lan laughs at the absolute lie.

He laughs.

He’s never laughed during sex, never imagined a reason his heart could be filled so fully that laughter would overflow.

“Don’t you dare,” he says.

Xingchen pretends to consider it, so Song Lan catches Xingchen with his legs, pinning him in place even as he feels Xingchen pushing inside him.

And it’s perfect. Xingchen’s hands on his thighs and waist and ass feels perfect. Xingchen inside him feels perfect. The way they move together is perfect. Xingchen saying his name is perfect.

“Zichen, where have you been?” Xingchen groans, kissing the space between his shoulder blades. “Why didn’t I find you before?”

Song Lan doesn’t have an answer for that, but for the first time, he doesn’t care to look in the past with regret. Now is enough. Now is a place to start.

Xingchen is rougher than Song Lan would have guessed, although Song Lan senses it’s only the edge of what he’s capable of, and every time he thrusts against Song Lan, it’s hard enough that he feels it in his chest, hard enough that lightning strikes him over and over. Everything Xingchen is—everything he could be—Song Lan wants.

Xingchen comes with one hand clenched tightly in Song Lan’s hair, the other curled around his hip bone, fingernails digging into Song Lan’s skin, tiny half moons he expects to see later. Song Lan only has time to stroke himself twice; the involuntary tightening of Xingchen’s hands, the sound of him moaning Song Lan’s name, is enough for his second orgasm to rocket through him, sharp as a blade.

Song Lan tilts awkwardly, falling away from Xingchen to land on his side, and Xingchen chuckles before he lays down in front of Song Lan, face to face. His mouth seems to be permanently locked in a smile, and Song Lan can’t do anything but gaze at him.

“Where’s your dog?” he finally asks, when he can think and breathe and think and breathe.

“I told her to wait in the living room as soon as I saw it was you on my doorstep,” Xingchen tells him, and Song Lan gapes.

“That was…”

He stops.

He has no idea how long ago it was. Has he been here for hours? Minutes? Days?

“I don’t know how long it’s been,” he says, and Xingchen raises his eyebrows.

Song Lan tries to explain. “I always know. I know how long things take and how far things are. Your door is 3.24 miles from mine. There are sixteen stairs to the second floor and fifteen to the third floor, which is odd. But I don’t know how long I’ve been here.”

Xingchen ponders this for a moment and draws a line down Song Lan’s nose. “Does it matter?”

Song Lan ponders this for a moment and kisses the tip of Xingchen’s nose. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

— ⚔ —

“Have you ever considered getting a pet?” Dr. Wen asks.

“No,” Song Lan lies. He used to have a cat that curled up on his head at night. He’d chosen an apartment that didn’t allow pets so he wouldn’t be tempted to get another big orange cat with green eyes.

“Why haven’t you? A cat, maybe?” Dr. Wen asks, as though Song Lan had said yes.

He hates it when Dr. Wen sees him.

— ⚔ —

They bathe in the most luxurious shower Song Lan has ever seen, in a bathroom the size of his first apartment, with the dog laying on the bathmat. She licks Song Lan’s foot when he gets out of the shower and looks up at him with a silly smile. He grins back at her, and then feels foolish.

“Dinner in? Or dinner out?” Xingchen asks, handing him a huge, plush towel.

A-Qing barks once and Xingchen says, answering as if she had spoken, “I was going to let Zichen choose, but dinner in sounds good to me too.”

Song Lan smiles. “Is she even a dog?” he jokes, but Xingchen tips his head thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I suspect she’s a demon.” He laughs suddenly. “But if she is, she’s the best demon dog in the world, aren’t you, my little bamboo shoot?” He bends over to scratch her ears, and she flops on the floor, rolling for belly rubs.

While they wait for dinner to arrive—Xingchen says delivery is better for the environment than his cooking—he shows Song Lan the house, which has a name: Jiufang. Xingchen says it was built after The Fire, but it has always been named Jiufang. It is every bit as intimidating as Song Lan thought it would be from his research and cursory glance

 but still a home

 filled with Xingchen

casually magnificent in a way only achieved through significant amounts of money. There’s a dumbwaiter. A copy of The Poppy War sitting open on a hidden bay window seat overlooking the back garden. And, Xingchen insists, a ghost named Hubert, who haunts a fat leather chair in the attic.

“It’s my mother’s house,” Xingchen explains. “She bought a mountain and moved out west, so I’m barnacling here now.”

Bought a mountain.

That has to be a metaphor.

“No, she actually bought a mountain. It used to be a ski resort, but she doesn’t ski. She just thought the view was nice.” Xingchen shrugs. “That’s how she is. You’ll like her.”

An involuntary smile slips onto Song Lan’s face at the idea that he’ll meet Xingchen’s mother someday, even if she sounds absolutely terrifying.

Xingchen has an old Polaroid camera and makes Song Lan take pictures with him and a-Qing. A-Qing manages to lick Song Lan’s face twice as the shutter snaps, and he growls at her, tugging on her ears and scratching her chin in feigned exasperation. Her long nose and laughing smile find a place to roost inside his heart too.

The doorbell rings with dinner, and Xingchen tells Song Lan to answer it while he sets the mood, which apparently means classical music.

Sitting at a table in the pristine black and white kitchen and listening to what Xingchen says is Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, they eat food from a restaurant Song Lan has heard of but didn’t realize would do takeout, much less delivery at 10 pm. The only thing he’s sure he recognizes is the steak, which is phenomenal, as is everything else he tries. It has been three years since he ate a meal with anyone else. Three years, two months, and six days since his last meal as a soldier, to be precise, which he always is. Since the day he walked away.

Xingchen reaches out his hand and Song Lan takes it. It feels like a clock somewhere inside him has stopped.

— ⚔ —

“Song Lan, I’m going to give you some homework. We’re going to start a scrapbook. So take the weekend, and next week, bring me one thing that represents something you did.”

It’s not a question, so Song Lan asks one. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan curses himself for answering even once. Answering is endless, like zucchinis you can never get rid of.

He shrugs, and Dr. Wen clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“I think you do know why. Take the weekend to think about that, too,” Dr. Wen says, a little tightly.

— ⚔ —

They curl up on the couch together as the music shifts to a dark and yearning cello solo, the backing orchestra swelling in power like white-capped winter waves on the lake. Xingchen leans back against his chest, a-Qing lays across both of their legs. Song Lan wraps one arm around Xingchen and rests the other on a-Qing’s head. He counts his heartbeats, matching them Xingchen’s, matching them to fit this place and this man and this life he wants nothing more than to be a part of.

“Zichen, I have a confession.”

Xingchen is so quiet, so tremulous, Song Lan’s breathing stutters. There’s always a catch. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was expecting a catch.

“I’ve known about you...who you are...for a while,” Xingchen says, laying his hand over Song Lan’s as though he thinks Song Lan might rabbit away.

He’s not wrong. Song Lan feels his muscles tense, and he coaxes them to relax. It’s not uncommon, he reminds himself. Sometimes people have heard of Song Lan, rogue cultivator. Sometimes they’ve heard of Song Lan, decorated war hero. Less often here and now, but still too frequent for Song Lan’s preference, they’ve heard of Song Lan, last member of the Baixue Farms family that was wiped out by a lone shooter

 a tragedy, the papers said

 no way to prevent random violence, the news said

intent on vengeance, seeking recompense for the lives the war had taken from the one soldier he knew

 orphaned, the sad woman on the television said

 not saying we condone his actions, the lawyer said

 he wasn’t in his right mind, the jury said

as though it hadn’t taken enough from Song Lan before his family was killed, hours before he got there, clutching his discharge papers in his hand like a first-prize blue ribbon.

“Okay,” he says, expecting more. “How long?”

Xingchen doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, he avoids the question.

“I heard the major factions were recruiting you and you’d refused, but they wouldn’t relent. They were paying your cleaning fees, and I think sometimes putting...putting danger in your path so you would need them,” Xingchen says in a rush, ignoring a-Qing’s grumble of protest when he adjusts to look at Song Lan.

“So...so I took over the payments. That way, they couldn’t leverage you at least. I can afford it,” he adds, waving a hand at the house when Song Lan frowns. “I intended to introduce myself first but…”

He falls back, dropping his hand in his lap and looking contrite. “I saw you in the park one morning, backlit against the sunrise, and I lost my nerve. You were...I don’t know, so beautiful and cold and quiet. I couldn’t just traipse up to you and announce, ‘Hi, I’m Xingchen, and I’m taking over your life.’”

Song Lan’s mouth twitches and he resists the bubbling laughter. He reaches out and pulls Xingchen back to him, and Xingchen squeaks in surprise. Song Lan tucks Xingchen under his chin and breathes in his scent, clean lemon soap and honey. Whatever part of him is offended by the presumption, by the meddling, melts away. Why should he bother with anger? Why should he destroy the first thing he’s wanted in ten years? For pride?

Song Lan kisses the top of his head. He is allowed to lay here and kiss the top of Xingchen’s head. “You’re right, I don’t want my life run by anyone else,” he finally says. “No one else but you.”

“Two and a half years, “Xingchen whispers, stubbornly determined to confess everything. “To answer your question. I’m not usually such a coward.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Song Lan says.

I love you either way, he thinks.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan hands Dr. Wen an envelope and watches him take things out of it.

A menu.

A CD of cello music.

A business card.

An ebony hair stick.

A Polaroid picture of two smiling men and a silly dog.

A key.

He is ready to stop living in the past. It is always going to be there, but so is the present. So is the future.

“I moved,” he says, and it is entirely worth the words to see the look on Dr. Wen’s face.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan moves into the mansion.

He doesn’t really want to live in opulence with Hubert, but Xingchen gently points out that it is easier for him to navigate a familiar space and neighborhood. Song Lan feels like shit for not thinking of it, but Xingchen says getting used to someone else takes time. He has time. They have time.

Xingchen agrees to get a cat.

They pick a sleek grey cat with scars on his face and a bite out of his ear, because he walks up to a-Qing, flicks his tail under her nose, and butts her chin. A-Qing sniffs the ruff of his neck suspiciously but eventually licks his head. They name him Chengmei. He’s already achieved beauty.

Maybe he’d thought that this newfound tide of love would wash away the nightmares, but after three days of bliss, Song Lan wakes up screaming, hand out, reaching for something. Fuxue? His mother? He doesn’t remember, but what he finds is Xingchen, grasping his hand, and a-Qing, leaning against his back, head on his shoulder. Chengmei, that traitor, doesn’t even flinch from his spot on Song Lan’s feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pants, unable to ground himself in this unfamiliar place.

Xingchen touches his cheek lightly, and it’s at least two points of comfort.

“Don’t be. It’s okay.”

He sounds like he means it, but Song Lan still climbs out of the bed and backs toward the door.

“I should go,” he says. He doesn’t know where. Just...away.

Xingchen exhales. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

Song Lan stops, nonplussed. “What? No, I’m...I can’t be around...no, you don’t have to.”

Xingchen is already pulling on clothes. All black. Hunting clothes, Song Lan thinks. “I know. But I want to.” He grins up at Song Lan. “You said I could run your life. Let’s go hunt.”

Xingchen’s vision is worse at night, but he’s no less sure-footed, the tapping of the cane eventually disappearing from Song Lan’s conscious thought. Every once in a while, a-Qing bumps into Xingchen to redirect him, but otherwise, a casual observer would barely realize that the handsome man with the feather-light steps is being guided by sound and dog.

Song Lan hasn’t hunted with a partner since he was a teenager, and never with anyone as good as Xingchen. Even here they fit together, Song Lan’s power and agility blending with Xingchen’s grace and intuition.

Luo Qingyang is delighted when they call her to clean up a nest of jueyang at an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the Loop. She seems entirely unsurprised to find the dawn rogue and the silent rogue together.

“Eight!” she exclaims, surveying the bodies and rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Boys, if I beat Zonghui this quarter, I am taking you out to dinner.”

“And then you’ll invite us to your D&D game?” Xingchen teases.

Qingyang laughs. “Have either of you even played?”

“That is beside the point,” Xingchen says archly. “We agreed to be friends, and friends play D&D together.”

She throws up her hands in mock surrender. “You win! We play at HQ on Wednesdays. Come at 7 pm.”

“I’m good at this already,” Xingchen whispers loudly to Song Lan. “I like winning.”

Song Lan wants to kiss him. It must show on his face because Qingyang laughs, doubling over and slapping her leg.

“Oh, I knew it. I knew it! Nie Daddy is going to die when I claim the pool,” she crows, still chuckling as she climbs back in the van and leaves them.

Xingchen pushes Song Lan against the brick wall and kisses him, biting his earlobe and sliding a hand under his shirt, a conflagration of hunger that turns Song Lan to floating, falling ash.

“Let’s go home,” he says, lips against Song Lan’s throat.

Home.

He didn’t think he wanted a home, but he has one now.

He didn’t think he wanted friends, but apparently he has them now.

He didn’t think he wanted to fall in love, but he is so far in it, he already can’t remember the shape of his loneliness before.

Home.

Us.

Let’s go home.

Notes: 

旧房 jiù fáng : old house

[gray-anxiety]

The Request | Levi X Reader

Not going to lie, I went really overboard with this, but this was a continuation/story adaptation for the HCs I did earlier that was requested. Almost 2,000 words aha.

requests open

Oneshot masterlist

         “Come on, Levi! Y/N is taking commissions from everyone else! You’re her boyfriend, you should support her too!” Hange had kept repeating the same statement over and over again to Levi, who was quite tired of the crazed scientist and it was only the beginning of the day. Levi clicked his tongue and simply blew on his piping hot tea before drinking the soothing beverage. Hange wasn’t going to take no as an answer, Levi already knew this well before Hange even stepped foot in the room, but it doesn’t mean that Levi can’t ignore her endless riots. Levi’s brows furrowed in thought; he would genuinely like to support his girlfriend for obvious reasons, except there was a problem. Almost every single person important to him either left or died long ago, leaving him with a very minuscule pool of important people left that was growing tinier by the day. Levi’s heart ached at the memories of so many people that he’d lost; though he wouldn’t say nor express it, Levi genuinely cared for those left around him, he simply didn’t know how to, nevertheless thought it was unprofessional to let his guard down. Because of this, Levi decided to just simply admire the work Y/N did for others; he felt too uncomfortable allowing anyone to hear about the memories that he kept under lock and key for only him to relive. 

         “..vi! Levi! Come on, you should go request something to be drawn!” Levi drew his eyes near the source of the loud, and frankly, annoying sound. Out of the corner of his eyes, he was still greeted by Hange. Levi sighed and set his cup down; little black streams clouded his vision –– his hair was in the way again; it must’ve been unkept for Levi’s standards. Levi started to pay attention to anything aside from Hange; how his crossed legs started to ache, the endless chatter from cadets in the background was loud enough without Hange, and how Y/N was silently drawing from a corner far away from any crowds or noise, but yet still remained in the Dining Hall. Hange somehow managed to get even louder each second Levi didn’t spend paying attention to her unruly ways of begging; it annoyed Levi to no end.

        “Fine, Four Eyes, I’ll request something.” Levi scoffed the moment the words left his mouth; Hange started to blush and drool from excitement once again. Levi tuned Hange out the moment she started to blabber again about him requesting Y/N to draw fucking titans. Levi stood up and went to clean his cup out; he wasn’t ready to tell Y/N about his fair share of a horrible past, but he also knew that she wouldn’t ask just as he never asked about her past. The thought of seeing a lost face once more unnerved Levi; he wasn’t ready to describe the person, nevertheless try and explain who they were to Levi. Alas, if it got Hange off his ass then he would gladly do it, or simply just kick her ass to the high heavens above. The day passed by like normal; forcing the cadets to clean the entire HQ top to bottom with no exemptions, yelling at the unfortunate souls that ran past him in the hallways, paperwork, expedition planning, and more grueling paperwork, but even with all of that and so much more; Levi still failed to erase the knawing thought at the back of his head about asking Y/N to draw something –– or someone, for that matter, for him.

         Levi sucked in a breath and walked into his office already exhausted, though, he already knew that it was once again going to be another sleepless night for him. Levi turned his head slightly to greet your E/C eyes –– you had been waiting for him again. It was like this almost every night since the beginning of your relationship; you stayed with him until you eventually fell asleep in the corner you occupied. Levi had the decency to place a bench in that corner to keep you off the, in his terms, ‘filthy’ floors. Levi walked over to his desk, once again full of unfinished paperwork Erwin gave him to finish. Levi’s knee popped as soon as he sat down, causing him to let out a tiny growl from under his breath. Your eyes never left his tense form; you knew he had something to inquire you about and was simply trying to avoid it at all costs. 

        “Levi, please don’t overexert yourself too much, I know you have something on your mind that’s bothering you. If you don’t wish to speak about it, that’s fine, but please don’t let it push you to tackle more work than you already have.” There it was. You could read Levi like a book –– you related too much to him to not know when something was off about his stature. Levi clicked his tongue and kept a blank face when he looked up to you from the sheet of paper in front of him. You raised your eyebrow and gave him the look he knew all too well; he wasn’t going to get out of this. 

        “Draw me someone.” He finally said it. Y/N simply shook her head and gave Levi a soft smile. She knew he had just as hard of a time asking anyone for anything like she did, but she knew he must want something done involving his past. 

        “Alright, Levi, who do you want to be drawn?” 

        “My mother.” Y/N stopped working on the request she had from Eren and immediately flipped to a new page in her sketchbook, prepared to write down every description given to her on the page beside the future page that’d contain the portrait itself. Y/N motioned with her hand for Levi to start describing anything he remembered of his mother, but little did Y/N know, Levi remembered every detail his mother had before she died, leaving him only in one of her old dresses curled up in the corner starved. Levi finally set down the document he had held in his hand and sighed. He really was going to do this. Levi closed his eyes and envisioned his mother like he’d seen her oh so often; tired, pale, and half-starved, but nevertheless beautiful.

         “She had the same slit eyes as I have, though, more feminine and delicate looking; thin eyebrows; long, small nose, and a plump bottom lip accompanied with a smaller top lip. She had almost the same exact facial structure I have and had long black hair. Before you ask, yes, she had the same eye-color and pale skin as I have.” Levi kept his eyes closed; he didn’t want to open them knowing that his mother had been gone for years. Y/N cleared her throat and looked over every detail Levi described to her.  

          “Basically, a more feminine you...?”

          “Yeah. Less constipated too.” 

           Even in the dim candlelight, you began to work, carving out a face from the light, but precise, graphite strokes that eventually made a shell of a face that would soon resemble Levi’s mother. Every once in a while, you’d look up and stare at Levi before looking back down and once again focusing at the drawing at hand. Levi knew you were only staring so you could get a more accurate version of his mother, but he couldn’t help commenting on it being ‘Hange-like’. The two of you worked in silence even in the early hours of the next day, not once stopping to rest nor even think about stopping with the amount of work left to do. Finally, you had finished after a few hours of non-stop work, you only prayed that Levi would deem your work satisfactory, otherwise you would spend the rest of the night redoing the entire thing just to his liking. 

            “...I’ve finished, Levi.” Levi’s eyes met yours as he lifted a brow. You knew that was his language to show him. You stood up and quietly walked over to Levi’s side, holding the drawing to your chest. You sighed and looked at the wall to your left.

            “I’m sorry if you don’t like it; I’ll redo it if you want me to.” You simply said before setting down the portrait in front of Levi. Levi’s eyes widened by a fraction; his normal deadset jaw slackened. He sat there, unmoving until you heard a soft inhale coming from Levi. His, pale, slim fingers gently picked up the portrait and held it in front of him. Levi let go with his right hand to touch the uncanny drawing of his mother. You knew you had done well and smiled softly, slipping out of Levi’s door. But before you did, you heard a soft, almost inaudible ‘thank you, Y/N.’ come from Levi. You gently shut the door behind you and went off to take a shower; you knew you were indefinitely going to be exhausted for training in less than a few hours, but it was well worth it knowing Levi had a reminder of his mother by his side now. Before you went to Levi’s unoccupied room the two of you shared, you went back to his office to check on him one last time. Though, you were greeted by a sight you’d never forget; a sleeping Levi in his chair, hugging the portrait of his mother by his chest.

[jamkookies]

Decalcomania

Description :  A trip to Malta for the shooting of Bon Voyage seems peaceful enough until the moment things take an unexpected turn...

Word Count : 2.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This tastes really good." Jungkook says through a mouthful, munching and smacking his lips.

You weren't even surprised to see the red sauce staining the corners of his lips, proof of how much he was enjoying his delicious slice of pizza.

A sudden déjà vu hits you, and you experience the same feeling from the restaurant by the beach, except for this time you don't tell, but rather show him. He stops chewing when you use your thumb to swipe at the tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth. That seems to catch him off guard, but then, to your astonishment, he follows your finger with his mouth and licks the remnants off of it.

You stare in silent horror as he smirks and resumes chewing.

"I don't know if I should be disgusted by the fact that you eat like an infant or that you just licked my finger like a freaking popsicle." you blink.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

"Oh hell no!" you screech." In fact, I'd like it if you kept that dirty mouth of yours as far away from me as possible." you say, wiping your finger on the hem of your shirt and then digging in your own slice of pizza.

His eyes darken at your words and he sweeps a look at you shamelessly from head to toe.

"I could take that in a different context but it's better if we don't rush things for now." he says, abandoning what's left of the pizza to the sheet spread on the sand.

You choke.

He chuckles in delight and then leans forward, putting his palms face down on each side of yours. You go cross eyed at the face looming  in front of you as it violates every rule of ethical distance.

"Sharing is caring." he says and stares at the slice of pizza hanging from your lips. You refuse to be flustered by his antics. It had happened a number of times by now but that belonged in the past. Jeon Jungkook had no idea who he was messing with.

Without blinking an eye, you keep munching on the food, not giving a damn if his face was literally a couple of inches from your own. You point a finger at the unfinished slice of pizza laying on the sheet.

"I don't like the crust." he says, without even throwing a glance its way.

"Well, then starve." you deadpan.

With a flick of his wrist, you're robbed of the heavenly delicacy and all that's left is a small chunk of cheese dangling from your lips like a pendulum.

"Hey! That's my food, you idiot!"

He only offers you a smug smile in return.

"Where do you even put all that, anyway? Is there a black hole in your stomach?"

His eyes flick to his abdomen, the expanse of rippling muscles discernable even through the material of his shirt.

"Dunno. Fast metabolism, I guess." he answers while munching away.

Despite promising yourself not to yield, one look at his stuffed cheeks makes your features soften.

How controversial, you thought to yourself.

There he was, sitting in all his glory, overgrown messy hair reaching past his cheekbones, delicate lashes fluttering against his skin and... and his mouth struggling to chew the food in one go.

A loving smile sneaks into your face.

"Jungkook....is it bad that I feel happy?" You let yourself voice the thoughts in your head.

He stops chomping on the food for a moment and silently observes you.

"I mean," you continue. "I know it sounds absurd saying it right now. We're practically homeless and the money we have will barely be enough to get us through this, but....it feels nice. Being with you, I mean. It's different from when I was by myself. I didn't have anyone."

He seems to be contemplating your words, capturing his bottom lip with his teeth.

"That was kinda cheesy." he remarks, while looking at the pizza.

You burst into laughter.

Being with Jin-hyung for too long had definitely made an effect on him.

"But I know what you mean." he continues. "I feel happy too."

A blinding smile breaks across your whole face.

"Come here," he says softly and pats the seat next to him.

After having put some distance earlier, your legs now move on their own accord, snuggling closer to him. You lean your head on his lap and he doesn't object, even daring to run a hand through your hair, untangling it from the messy knots caused by the wind. His fingers are careful, gentle and as they draw invisible patterns against your scalp, you suddenly feel your eyelids droop.

You'd both started to grow more comfortable in each other's presence, not scared to show affection anymore.

It was a good thing, you thought.

You didn't really care about labels. Girlfriend, boyfriend— those were just words that had lost their true meaning nowadays. Did it even matter if in the end you would be willing to give your life for him, dramatic as it might sound?

"Don't sleep." you hear him say, but his skillful fingers still continue to caress you.

"I'm not." you reply with your eyes closed.

His thumbs travel from your head to your face and graze past your jaw. Then, something soft and plump touches the tip of your nose and you open your eyes only to see Jungkook kissing it.

It lasts for a second and he pulls away, taking with him his long dark locks which had tickled your face just a moment earlier.

He leans back on the heels of his hands, satisfied, but it is quickly replaced by surprise when you reach up to kiss his own nose.

You then let your head fall down onto his lap and giggle like a four year-old. He throws his own head back and bursts into laughter.

The action makes his whole body shake and you, having leaned into him, tremble as well, continuosly bumping the back of your head on the solid muscles of his thighs.

"Ouch! Jungkook, stop working out so much. Your thighs are not comfortable."

"I thought you liked my thighs."

"They're nice to look at, but not to sit on. Er.. lean on. I mean lean on."

You almost slap yourself in embarrassment.

His eyebrows shoot up and a lop-sided grin hangs on his lips.

"You can always sit on them if you like." he teases.

You quickly clamp your hand around his mouth, shutting him up for good.

"Shhhh. Let's pretend this didn't happen." you whisper, but as expected, Jungkook kisses the hand around his lips while you're at it.

This boy was gonna be the death of you.

* * *

Wandering through the streets hand in hand didn't exactly make the sun move slower towards the blue line in the horizon. It kept sinking lower and lower as if drawn by an invisible string, ignoring all of your prayers to just stay up for a little longer. It would soon be nighttime and you knew what that meant.

Darkness.

And danger.

The horrors you'd lived through had definitely made their toll on you and even though Jungkook's reassuring hand squeezed your own every time you tensed, you couldn't help but feel a little  frightened.

It was weird, how your incident had made you see things in a completely different way. You felt jittery when you saw ropes or jagged rocks, shrunk into yourself every time an older man came near to your space.

You'd unconsciously developed a fear you didn't even know was possible.

It had been hard the first days at the hotel. Having to fight on your own, with no one by your side, unprotected. Knowing that no one was gonna come to your rescue even if your throat turned raw from screaming.

So you'd held.

Struggled like hell.

Refused to give in to the impending doom threatening to take over you.

But now...

Now you had Jungkook, right?

The boy had been through even worse than you, but here he was, offering to be your shield from now on. You'd surrendered yourself to him, showing him all of your fears and weaknesses and he'd quietly accepted them.

"You okay?" he says and pulls you closer to him when he notices the distance you try to keep from people bumping into you.

"Yeah." you say, wary eyes flicking in every direction. "It's just that I got used at the hotel where there were no...strangers. And lights were on the whole time."

He only nods in return.

"I sound ridiculous don't I?" you add.

"No, not at all." he objects. "I cried for two days after I did...what I had to do, and would swat away every single hand that rested on my shoulders to console me."

Your chest tightens painfully at the honesty in his words.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Jungkook."

He stops walking and turns on his side to face you.

"Hey, we talked about this. It was not your fault."

"But–"

"No buts."

You sigh deeply.

"I keep ruining the mood. We were doing fine a while ago, eating pizza and stuff."

"You're right," he says, eyes lighting up in anticipation. "We need some food. Let's go get something."

He starts to drag you along but you plant your feet on the ground.

"Aren't we spending a little too much?" you ask. "We need to save the money for the flight tickets and if you've noticed, there are no jobs lying around."

"Dammit, I hate it when you're right twice in a row."

A soft chuckle escapes your lips and you wrap your arms around his waist while looking up at him.

"Sorry, can't help it."

"Are you in for an ice-cream though?" he offers.

"Let's count the money first. We don't even know how much we have."

"Alright."

"Um... where should we do it? I don't want people to watch us."

His face distorts, trying to hold in a laughter.

"Oh my God, Jungkook, what the hell?! People accuse me of making dirty jokes all the time, but I'm starting to think you're the real pervert here."

"If I'm a pervert, then how did you know what I was thinking?"

You open your mouth but then close it, not having an argument strong enough to prove him wrong.

He looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm a pervert. You're a pervert. We're all perverts. Now let's go."

You grab his shirt and force him to follow you to the beach once again. It wasn't so crowded since it was almost nightfall and you kinda liked it better than other places.

Jungkook sits down on the sand and pulls out his satchel along with the money inside of it. His fingers flip Euro after Euro, lips moving inaudibly as he counts to himself.

"992 Euros." he says after finishing.

"Wow."

"You earned way more than me, though. I'm ashamed."

"You only worked for one day, Kook."

"And ruined it too. I still can't believe you worked for fifteen hours."

"It's not that big of a deal. Look how toned my arms are."

You flex your biceps proudly but he pushes it down with one hand.

"Not funny." he grumbles.

Dismissing his persistence with a roll of your eyes, you grab the money from his hands and fold them neatly.

"The tickets are 600 euros each. We need at least 200 more."

"It's not that much." he says with a forced air of nonchalance. "Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy."

"How are you so confident?"

"Trust me, everything is possible when you have Jeon Jungkook by your side."

You huff a laughter through your nose.

"Can you get me my bucket hat?" he asks you.

"Why? What do you want it for?"

"It's my lucky charm."

Shaking your head in disbelief, you unzip the suitcase and retrieve the hat from its pocket, putting it a little further on the sand.

"Hey! I said to give it to me!" he whines.

"There's no need to put it on. Lucky charms don't necessarily work that way. Plus, I like seeing your hair."

He grins like a maniac.

"I'm gonna cut it soon."

"Like hell you are!" you exclaim, horrified. "I'll destroy every single pair of scissors if I have to."

His grin only grows bigger.

"Okay, then. Do whatever you want. I'm in your hands."

Damn it.

You'd started to think that it would've gotten easier to handle his flirtatious replies by now.

You were wrong.

You try to fight the furious blush spreading through your neck as you fish for some coins in your pocket and start making shots straight for the hat.

One.

Two.

Clink.

Three.

Clink.

"Wow, you're good." Jungkook breathes.

"You're not the only talented one here, Kooks."

"I beg to differ."

"Well, you can sing."

He hums in approval.

Clink.

"And dance."

Clink.

"And you're good at sports."

Clink.

"And....I don't know, man. I guess you're good at everything." you finish and throw all the coins in one go.

He throws his head back and laughs while clapping his hands like a seal.

"You're still forgetting one thing." he says in a low voice.

"What?"

"I can make you smile."

As if on cue, your lips stretch into a wide smile and it feels like pure bliss.

"Speaking of talents," he continues. "I never got to show you my new song."

You unconsciously lean forward, trembling with anticipation.

"You made a new song?"

"It's not finished yet, but I'd like it if you gave it a listen."

"Please do." you insist.

"Okay, then."

His eyes close on their own and it's like he turns into a whole new person. It left you in shambles every single time. The way he felt each word and sound flowing like sweet honey from his chest.

When I see you smile in the screen

You're good at everything, you're just perfect.

Feels like I've never been you.

Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don't like me like that.

Come and tell me so much, beautiful heart

Oh how I'm gonna listen to you, please.

All the numbers too big, can't get out of your game

Oh I want to paint it like you, please.

I want to be your decalcomania

I want you

I want to be your decalcomania

I want,

I want you.

Your eyes turn blurry with unshed tears and you're ready to pounce on him and tell him it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard in your life, when suddenly you hear the clink of coins in the hat.

A middle aged woman smiles at Jungkook and takes her leave.

You both turn your heads and lock eyes with each other.

Busking it is.

[disregardcanon]

A decade in fanfiction

The meme template was made by me myself and I! Please, if you’re interested go ahead and do it! I would love to see other people reflecting on their writing right along with me :) 

Where can we read your fic? Please give us a link so that we can check these stories out!

my early fics can be read on my ffn The Ficsmith 

on ao3, my pseuds are sunkelles and fullmetal anime

I also have lots of short things here on tumblr. i would try searching a favorite fandom of yours and au on my blog and something might pop up. 

How many words of fanfiction have you written this decade?

On ao3, I have posted  1,031,824 words. I would bet that I posted 40k on ffn before i started posting concurrently to my ao3, and that i’ve posted maybe 80k of stuff just to tumblr? If I estimate that way and don’t think about unfinished works and wips, I’d say 1,151,824 words thereabouts. 

How many stories have you written?

I’ve posted 338 stories to ao3. I am not going to go do the math to add on my stories from ffn as well. 

Have you written on multiple websites? If so, which website is your favorite and why?

ao3 is my favorite website for fic because it’s just so EASY to search through, post to, and get your stats from. plus it’s very visually appealing. 

Have you used multiple pen names? If so, list them and tell us the story behind the name

on ffn, i used a lot of pen names over the years, but i only remember 3 of them 

1. thee sun. this was my first pen name on the internet and it was because back then, my friends and i had series of nicknames going where we were each a part of the solar system. one of my friends suggested that i should be the sun because i was happy and bouncy and the friend group “orbited” around me. it wasn’t really accurate then or now, but sun ended up sticking. 

2. sunless skies was my emo change to that pseud 

3. the ficsmith is my current name there as i thought the word “wordsmith” was badass and decided that ficsmith sounded very, very cool 

on ao3, my primary pseud has always been “sunkelles”. half of it’s the old nickname and half of it’s another nickname i won’t get into. it’s a very personal handle for me that i love dearly 

my second pseud is fullmetal anime, my anime pseud. fullmetal alchemist was one of my first anime when my old roommate got me onto my weeb phase in my twenties, and i thought that sounded too badass to pass up. 

What is the first story you posted this decade?

I Will Never Leave You Alone: this is a percy jackson fic set after the lost hero. It was my imaging of how the meeting in son of neptune might go if percy didn’t get his memories back. it’s bad, but it was my first attempt at fanfiction. i think that it could have been a lot worse. 

What is the last story that you posted this decade?

Not Willing to Wait for it: this is a tangled the series fic about cassandra. it’s not really my favorite thing i’ve ever written, but it’s not a terrible thing to end the decade on either. 

What is the longest story that you have wrote this decade?  

The Poetry of Time and Space: this is a pipabeth fic with annabeth as the doctor and piper mclean as rose tyler fic that i wrote back in 2013 at the urging of my first internet friend. coming in at 27,842 words, it’s the longest fic i have ever written. 

while i wouldn’t call it some of my best work, i’m still fairly proud of the thing. writing it helped me make a friend (even if we don’t keep in touch anymore), it helped me find some cool poetry, and i did a lot of fun historical research for it! 

i learned a loooottt about the history of spain for this fic and it was really cool. 

What is the shortest?

A Good Listener coming in at 192 words, this pipabeth fic is at the polar opposite end of the spectrum. 2013 was a wild year, my dudes. 

What’s your favorite?

I think that choosing a “favorite” would probably be too hard, but the one that I come back to the most is Over the Shadowy Hills. This fic could have been just good, but my friend was like. girl. you need to sort your shit out. and then i deleted it, worked on it with her help, and fixed it into something that i can still be really proud of. I’m glad that I decided to stick with it and give this fic the time and attention that it needed. 

What story do you feel was your biggest challenge?

I don’t have a fic in particular I would say is my biggest challenge, but one challenge has been the growing pains of becoming a better writer. I’ve moved into a point where I need to tell more thorough, longer stories, but I also don’t have the time needed to do that at the moment and my desire for instant validation is fighting against my desires to not do work and be a better writer. 

I know that right now I’m growing as a writer, but I’m not exactly sure what direction I’m growing in and how to deal with it. 

Which story was your most creative?

All Katz Go to Heaven is certainly an idea that no one but me would have come up with XD the premise is “all of hannibal’s victims from the show hannibal die and are reincarnated in brooklyn 99″ 

Which story do you think demonstrates the greatest growth?

I think that Paint a New Horizon demonstrates a lot of my progress as a writer. 

1. coming in at 23k, it’s one of my longest fics ever 

2. it has some of my best visual descriptions ever, as i decided to write sansa as a painter and it make visual descriptions a FAR bigger part of the story than they normally are when i write 

3. it handles dark subject matter, but i feel like i go into well. i’ve found myself dwelling in this universe a LOT, and i think that i might actually go back and write more of it over this next semester or summer because i just. like being in it. even though it was dark, it was also homey and lively and interesting, you know? 

4. it’s the best romance i’ve written this year, hands down. 

Here, have a snippet 

She dared a glance forward and met Margaery’s eyes- a deep, chocolate brown. They were warm and inviting and Margaery’s little curly bangs framed her face like a heart. Margaery’s head went over the back of the booth and it seemed to almost be floating against the flowery wallpaper. It looked like Margaery was lying out in a field of flowers- the Maiden gazing up at the clouds and trying to make shapes of them.

She could imagine Margaery telling her that this one is a flower, like Tyrell, and this one’s a deer, like Baratheon, and this one’s a dick, like Joffrey. She giggled nervously again and felt her cheeks flush. She’d never felt this giddy and unsteady in her whole life.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” Margaery asked cautiously. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Sansa’s own. The touch was warm and tender, and Sansa felt the blush from her toes to the tip of her head.

“I’m perfect!” Sansa nearly screeched. Margaery laughed at that, but her look was kind.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile that was wide and fond, “I think that you are.”

Lesbian. The word wasn’t supposed to fill her with such a warm, hopeful feeling, was it? She wiggled awkwardly in her chair, trying to get situated and stop feeling so silly and excited and vulnerable, but it didn’t fix anything. She felt Margaery’s leg brush against hers under the table. It sent a jolt through her.

Lesbian.

Sansa took a shaky breath. She thought to herself that there might be something to that.

Tell us about your writing process.

my writing process is quite frankly all over the board. sometimes, i’ll sit down and just hammer out a fic start to finish in one sitting, but when i don’t do that i’ll make the thing come together in patchwork. i’ll normally start with some vivid pieces of dialogue that i want to write and then i’ll figure out where i’m going and how. often, since i write in a nonlinear fashion i might end up having to change what i’ve written for the middle or the end, but when i get there and it doesn’t feel right for what i ended up writing, i always decide that i’m better off with what feels more natural. 

Tell us about how you come up with fic titles.

I have 3 different systems for determining fic tiles 

1. come up with a cool title to write a fic around. i wrote Chasing Annabeth solely because i thought that would be badass title 

2. try to find something external to the story, like a saying, a lyric or quote, that works with the message or mood of the story. for If You Believe in Me (I’ll Still Believe), I realized that both Memoria by Nirvana and Holland Road by Mumford and Sons shared a distinct feel with what I was doing with the fic, so I went through the lines of both and identified some possible titles. 

Then, I decided that the line “if you believe in me I’ll still believe” felt the most right. I thought that it best conveyed how much Jeyne believing that Theon could become better again contributed to him actually going through with it, whereas some of the other options didn’t have either the external influence or faint hope that I felt the fic deserved. 

3. find something from the fic itself or the source material! often times, i’ll end up with a motif in the fic that makes a perfect title, or i’ll have something to draw on from the source material. this feels different from the 2nd option because whereas that first one is going outside the world of the fic, this 3rd one is going inside the world of the fic. 

Have you ever used an epigraph? Tell us about your reasoning.

I use epigraphs for the same reason that I use outside sources for fic titles. While sometimes I have that lyric or quote in mind while I am writing the fic, like Washing Machine Heart, sometimes you get to the end of writing and realize that you’ve created something that would be enhanced if you were to have your readers mulling over the theme brought up in a song while they’re reading, like Unfinished Business. 

I don’t know, these are probably the reasons that ANYONE uses epigraphs, but it’s cool to see other people’s thought process. 

What are some of your favorite lines that you’ve ever written?

Here’s a few of my favorite exchanges from my older or more underrated fics!

She swallows the spit that has started to pool in her mouth and continues, "We'll all end up dying and meeting the void face to face and blah blah fucking blah, but the thing is that's tomorrow. This is today. You remember Thalia, so she matters. And you matter because you're alive. Your heart's still beating. You can still do shit. See shit. Be the shit. Annabeth Chase, you can still do anything."

Chasing Annabeth (2013)

Annabeth tsks as she laughs, “You’ve always got to steal the attention for yourself, don’t you?”

Piper laughs and then pretends to glare, “Borrow. I borrow things.”

“Borrowing BMWs is still frowned upon, my friend,” Annabeth says and then everything is back to normal. The future is forgotten, if only for a moment in the company of a friend.

The Fates Smiled (2014) 

“I guess,” Arya mutters, and she walks straight over to the trash. She pops the lid, and dumps the enormous plastic cock unceremoniously into it. Then she lets the lid close. She and Shireen look to the trash can in horror.

“Do you think that we should burn it?” Shireen asks.

She pauses a moment before she adds, “I’m afraid it’s going to attack us in our sleep.” Arya bursts out into laughter.

“I can hear the news anchors already,” Arya says, “women murdered in sleep by haunted dildo.” The Kids Are Alright (2015) 

"I think huckleberry just came out too," Maya stage-whispers back, "two gays for the price of one."

"Bi one get one free," Riley says with a shit-eating grin 

A Guide to Coming Out (2015) 

"Do I look like a man with a plan to you?" He tries to look as crazy as he can. Rachel isn't buying it. "You impersonated a member of the mayor's honor guard, you predetermined and informed us of every victim before you killed them. You're a planner, Joker. You're even a good one." The Joker shrugs. "I'm not a schemer, though. Don't hang my hat on whether or not things work out." In that moment, Rachel understands this man. Rachel understands why he does the things that he does, even though she thinks that he's the scum of the earth. "You wanted to let us know all our plans would fall apart. You wanted chaos." "You're a smart woman, Ms. Dawes," The Joker says, cracking a smile, "you know what I did to you and your boy toy was nothing personal. It was just to turn the schemer's plans on their toes.

The City of Bats and Clowns (2016) 

Zatanna crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against Bruce’s black SUV. The “parking lot” at this camp is a glorified field of grass. It rained last night, and there are muddy ruts left all throughout the field and little muddy puddles scattered everywhere. It’s disgusting and rundown and everywhere that Zatanna doesn’t want to spend three weeks of her summer.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid camp.” Endless Summer (2017) 

Rose feels a twist in her gut. This might be worse than finding out he wanted to desert. This is knowing the reasons behind it, having to see him as human in his mistakes and understand why he made them.

Oh how heroes fall and then stumble back up again.

The Spark That Will Light the Fire (2017)

Sloth is all the memories you have and never asked for, all the feelings you don't know what to do with.

Sloth is your feelings towards two boys who aren't your sons- can't be- because you never wanted them in the first place.

You never asked for this, to be born half-formed and hungry. To be born somewhere between not caring and caring too much, to just go along with what you were told because you don't care enough not to.

You never asked for those two boys to look at you the way they do, like you're something hideous and beautiful all at once. Like you're their sin to bury, their damsel to save. All you've ever wanted is for it all to stop.

The Seven Deadly Almost People (2018) 

What are you favorite characters to write. 

I don’t really have “favorite” characters to write because I bounce around so often. I’ll have a new favorite next year, but my favorite me character that I wrote THIS year was Dabi. 

Which story was the most fun to write.

Out of all the stories I’ve written, Dicks in the Wind comes to mind as being the most fun. The soulmate au where whatever your soulmate draws on their skin appearing on yours might not be my all time favorite, but the idea of spitefully drawing dicks on your own face to spite the soulmate who hurt you while also hurting yourself is both really fun but also really interesting? I really liked getting to explore the implications of that idea, the humor, Sabine’s relationship with Kanan, and the possibility of a reconciliation between her and Ketsu. 

If you use ao3, tell us about your fics with the most

Kudos: The Matter of Soulmates 1,049

Comments: Her Heart’s Duet 63 comment threads

Hits: Golden Cages, Silver Linings 15,272 hits

Subscriptions: The Matter of Soulmates 105 subscriptions

If you could have written one story this decade that you didn’t get around to, what would this have been?

There’s lot of fics that I wish I would have gotten written this decade. I think that if I could have written ONE fic that I didn’t get around to this decade, though, I would have turned my tucker turns ed into a chimera instead of nina tumblr post into a real fic. 

Do you write original fiction as well?

Sometimes! I don’t write it as much as I’d like, but I’ve written some short stories and I have some longer wips. 

Did you ever do nanowrimo this decade? If so, tell us about your projects.

I tried nanowrimo in both 2017 and 2018. My 2017 was a story idea about magic pirates. My 2018 was a story based on a fic idea I had where ed HAD created al like al thought he did in fma 03 for a while. it would feature prominent relationships with characters inspired by winry, wrath, and lust. both of these have about 15k to their name. 

What have you learned writing in the past decade?

I’ve learned a lot about myself as a person. For better or for worse, the easiest way to get to know me would be to go through my ao3 and just start reading. 

I also feel like I’ve learned that I CAN be a writer. While I have a long way to go if I ever want to become any good at original fiction and develop a thick enough skin to get it worked up to publishing shape, I know that I have the skills to at least give it a try.  If I don’t, I’ll always have these stories that I hold closely to my heart and this hobby that’s brought me a lot of joy. 

What are your writing goals going forward?

At the moment, I’m not entirely sure. I feel a little bit like I’ve stagnated and I need to figure out a way forward, but I’m not entirely sure what that way forward IS. I think that the way forward is longer projects (maybe even more original fiction) but I’m going to need to figure out a way to not devote all my mental energy to these projects at a time and also not let them wither and die. 

In the past, I’ve only been able to do proper, well written long fics when I had a LONG time to dedicate to getting the thing done. Like, days and days off that I could devote multiple hours to the writing project. In the future, I don’t think I’ll have that. I just need to find a way to not get SO into it that I can’t do anything else, but also maintain the energy and drive to keep coming back to it. 

Tell us about what aspect of your writing makes you the most proud.

I feel like I excel at word choice. People frequently comment on my fics that there’s something about the wording that just FLOWS, and I would have to agree. I feel like I’m good at choosing words that both sound good and hit emotionally. 

Tell us anything else that you’d like! This is your reflection post, so end on whatever bang you would like!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me over these past nine years! I haven’t been on tumblr for this whole time (i’ve only been here since 2012), but i grown a lot, both as a person and a writer, over this decade.

if you had told me when i wrote my first fanfiction that by the end of the decade i would write the order of the phoenix more than 5 times over in fanfiction, i would never have believed you. 

not every fic that i wrote was fantastic, but every fic that i wrote was MINE, and it’s a memory that i get to come back to when i’m feeling sad or lonely or like i can’t do something. so, thank you fanfiction, for always being there for me. even if you might be there for me a little too much XD

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 17

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

___________________

Stiles wakes up sometime late on Friday night when his phone buzzes. He rolls over to grab it off his bedside table, and squints at the screen. It’s from Allison: Get in loser, we’re going shopping. That… Stiles doesn’t get that reference. He texts back: What?

A moment later her answer comes: I’m parked up at the gate on Northwood St. Hurry up.

Stiles rolls out of bed and dresses quickly in his jeans, Converse, and a black hoodie. He listens in the darkness for a moment, but can’t hear any movement in the house. He opens his window carefully, and drops down onto the garage roof. From there it’s easy enough to get onto ground level.

Ten minutes later he scales the fence near the gatehouse on Northwood Street, and jogs toward Allison’s little silver car.

“We’re not really going shopping, are we?” he asks as he gets into the passenger seat.

She raises her eyebrows. “You don’t watch many movie, do you?”

There’s a hint of a smile on her face, and Stiles hasn’t seen one of those from her in days. It makes his chest ache, so he disguises his swell of sudden emotion by fumbling with the seatbelt.

“Not really,” he says. He used to, he thinks. He loved movies and TV and comic books and gaming, but he has to focus on his training now, and Gerard says anything that takes away from that is a waste of time. “So where are we going?”

“We’re going to get milkshakes,” Allison says, and puts the car into gear.

Stiles glances out the window as she drives, and wonders if he should at least text Kate and let her know he’s out with Ally. He doesn’t think she’ll mind. Or at least he doesn’t think she’ll mind enough to punish him for it. If Allison is going to be sneaking out, better to do it with Stiles at her side than on her own, right? Even Gerard will have to agree with that.

But he doesn’t send the text, and he’s not sure he wants to think about why. Of all the ways he’s betraying Allison’s trust, this is probably the smallest. But it’s also the only one Stiles has control over. Maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t want to tell.  

In the days following Scott McCall’s death in the woods, Allison has become a fixture around the house. On one hand, it rankles because Stiles hates lying to her. On the other hand, he loves Ally and feels a certain kinship with her—he’s a liar, and she’s being lied to, and both of them are powerless to do a thing about it. They’re the kids being kept from the adults’ table, even though Stiles is supposed to be a man and a hunter. That rankles too.

“How was school?” he asks as she drives.

She rolls her eyes. “You sound like my dad when he’s trying to make awkward conversation with me.”

Things have been strained between Allison and her parents. She thinks they’re angry she was seeing a boy and didn’t tell them. She thinks they’re horrible for not letting her go to Scott’s funeral. She’s so caught up in being the teenager whose parents don’t understand her that she doesn’t see the lies she’s being told are covering up a far larger truth. Chris and Victoria aren’t just coming down on her for arbitrary reasons, but that must be what it feels like.

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims. “That’s not fair. When your dad does it, he’s being weird and awkward, but I’m asking from a place of genuine curiosity. Home schooler, here. I want to know all about bad cafeteria food and pep rallies. What is pep, and why does it need its own rally?”

She laughs at that, and Stiles doesn’t know whether to feel pleased or guilty, or a weird sickening mix of the two.

“We don’t have pep rallies every day,” she says. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a school that had a pep rally.”

“Well, so much for you being my inside source,” Stiles tells her.

She laughs again.

They drive a little while longer, and then Allison pulls in to the parking lot of an all night diner. It’s a dinky little place that looks straight out of the 1950s. Stiles half expects to see waitresses on roller skates, but apparently the retro-flair starts and ends with the décor, not the staff.

They get a booth, and Allison orders a chocolate milkshake. Stiles orders strawberry, with a side of curly fries. He hasn’t had curly fries in—

His mind stutters over it.

He hasn’t had curly fries since the last time he lived in Beacon Hills and his father bought them for him. Jesus. It was possibly even this exact same diner.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks.

Stiles grips the edge of the table until his dizziness passes. “Yeah. Low blood sugar or something, probably.” He forces a smile. “Guess we’re in the right place to fix that, huh?”

Allison’s answering smile is cautious, and Stiles wonders how long it will take for her to realise that he’s part of the conspiracy of lies wound as tightly around her life as the web of a spider, slowly constricting the fluttering moth caught in the middle.

When his milkshake comes, it doesn’t taste as nice as he thought it would.

Stiles sips it, and thinks of a hundred different ways to tell Allison the truth. A hundred different ways he’ll say it, and she’ll hate him for having lied to her. Scott was a monster,he wants to tell her, but he can’t even bring himself to say the words, let alone fully believe them.

Because Scott was a werewolf, but maybe that’s not the same thing.

The milkshake sits heavily in his roiling stomach.

***

“What happened to your neck?” Allison asks as they’re walking back across the parking lot to the car.

Stiles reaches up and touches the bandage on his throat. The wound is healing quickly, but Stiles has kept wearing a bandage because he doesn’t like to look at it. He’s been hurt before, but not like that. Not with such slow, careful intent. And that’s not even the part he doesn’t like to think about. It’s the way that Derek saved him. The way that the other werewolf, Peter, just stopped when Derek said his name. That’s not how werewolves, mad with bloodlust, should act.

“A mole,” he says. “Well, I’m covered in them, but this one was weird.”  

Allison’s brows draw together. “You didn’t say anything about it.”

He shrugs. “It was last week, in the middle of everything. I didn’t want to worry you.”

He feels a rush of hot guilt at the way her expression softens.

“Oh, Stiles,” she says, and grasps his hand. “We’re friends. You should have told me. Is it all okay now?”

“Yep,” Stiles says. “Turns out it just looked weird, but it wasn’t a melanoma or anything.”

He tugs his hand free of Allison’s before she notices that he’s shaking.

“Come on, he says. “You’d better get home before your parents notice you’re gone.”

***

In the morning, Stiles wakes later than usual. He heads downstairs to find the house empty, and checks his phone to find a message from Kate. Her and Gerard have headed to LA to make a pick up. Of reinforcements or weapons, Stiles isn’t sure. He feels like he’s being treated like a child in Beacon Hills, when at least back in Kroměříž he’d been treated like a hunter. The lowest one in the chain of command, sure, but a hunter still. It has to be because they don’t trust him. Because they think that being back in Beacon Hills, back in a place thick with the memories of a childhood spent with his father, that he’s more susceptible to his father’s weaknesses. That he might succumb to the same treachery.  

And a part of Stiles is afraid that maybe they’re right. He hasn’t felt as unsure of the ground underneath his feet in years.

Stiles makes oatmeal in the microwave, and pours a glass of water to take his Adderall with. He’s still in his sleep pants and an old t-shirt when the doorbell rings. He pads to the door and opens it.

Chris is standing on the doorstep.

“Chris,” Stiles says, and moves aside to let him in.

“I’m not coming in,” Chris says. His gaze drops to the bandage on Stiles’s throat, and then he lifts it again to look him in the eye. “I followed Allison last night.”

Stiles doesn’t react. He can’t read Chris as well as he can Gerard and Kate. He knows Chris doesn’t like him—he gets narrow-eyed whenever he looks at Stiles—but he’s never felt like the man’s actually going to hurt him or anything. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time Stiles was wrong.

“I want to know what you two talked about,” Chris says.

“School,” Stiles tells him. “Teenage stuff. And Scott McCall.”

An emotion Stiles can’t name flickers in Chris’s blue eyes. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Stiles says. “I let her vent.”

“And that’s all?” Chris asks.

Stiles nods. “That’s all.”

Chris stares at him without saying anything, and Stiles tries not to fidget under his scrutiny. He knows the stories. Stiles’s father and Chris Argent were legends, once upon a time. They were heroes. And then Stiles’s father left, spitting on hundreds of years of proud history, and Chris Argent—his best friend, his hunting partner, the man who’d been so close to Janusz Stilinski that he’d married his cousin—was tarred with the same brush. Chris was no traitor, but the facts never got in the way of speculation. Mud sticks. Who knows that better than Stiles?

Stiles wonders if Chris hates him for being his father’s son, or pities him for it.

“You wouldn’t have to follow Allison if you told her the truth,” Stiles says, lifting his chin. “She’s an Argent, and one day she’s going to be head of your family and—”

Chris takes a sudden step forward.

Stiles flinches back.

Chris stops. For a moment he looks puzzled, and then a weary sort of resignation overtakes his expression.  He nods, and takes a step back, as though he’s dealing with a small, frightened child, and not a fellow hunter. His gaze settles on Stiles’s bandage again. “Take care of yourself, Stiles.”

Stiles flushes.

“I’m glad Allison has you as a friend,” Chris says at last, and then turns and walks back down the front path toward his SUV.

Stiles closes and locks the front door behind him.

Then, his unfinished breakfast forgotten, he heads downstairs into the basement and spends the next hour unloading his fear, his shame, and his uncertainty into a punching bag. He works it until his muscles ache and he’s too tired to think.

And then he keeps going.