#You should finish it though late game Sun/Moon goes SO hard

[kakusu-shipping]

There’s a very good reason I put Lillie in the ‘like’ tier and Sophocles in the ‘idk’ tier…

I didn’t actually finish Pokémon Sun/Moon. 😂

Oops.

You know what. That's totally fair. They're not in the game all that much anyway

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.3

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

A/N: Third chapter is here! Again, thank you to all those who are supporting the story. Once again, this is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“Insane madness of the living can be more, more terrible than the bloody hunger of the undead...”

― Silvia Liam

The rules of hunting down prey are simple. First, you observe to take note of their weakness, then you stalk...waiting for the right opportunity to take your shot. Hunting is more often about a game of time than aim sometimes. You jump too soon and you risk scaring your target to a successful escape, or you do it too late that you let them fully slip through your grasp. Hunting... has always been about perfect timing.

"You already know the rules of the game, right boy?"

The frail form of a seven year old child cowered against the foot of a dead tree, eyes shaking as it regarded the man leering at him. The sky was a deep dark velvet above them, and the only source of light came from the full moon that dipped in and out between the passing clouds. A bell dingled from the tight chain strapped around his left ankle when he moved, the sound causing the smile on the man's face twist into a wicked grin.

The hum of a gun being cocked sent the boy to give a choked sob. He shakily tried to stand up from his spot and pressed his palm against the rough bark of the tree to support himself, his wide eyes set on the looming form that has taken a step closer to where he stood.

"It's the first sturgeon moon tonight, so we are going to change the rules a little bit, okay?" Those words only made the child shake harder, the thin shirt he had now clinging to him like second skin due to the cold sweats gripping him.

"You run. And if I catch you, you die," the man cooed as he craned his face a bit to the side, causing the light from the moon to illuminate his features briefly. He looked handsome, inhuman, like he was one of the fallen souls exiled to earth at the beginning of times.

The man moved the arm holding his hunting gun and used it to lift the chin of the boy still cowering in front of him. He smiled—a smile so beautiful and dangerous it can make angels weep.

"But if you die, then your brothers will be the one running in this forest to take your place. So...make sure I don't catch you, hmm?"

Tears finally streamed down the bruised cheeks of the child as he realized what he was up to tonight. Eyes wide with fear, he pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started making a run for it.

He could still hear his words even as he dove deep into the woods, the bell on his feet masking his thundering footsteps.

"Seven bullets! You have one minute to hide, son~!"

Gunshots pierced the night air like a wailing scream.

------

Bang!

Jeno lowered his hunting rifle and let go of his breath slowly. Despite the shadows cast by the towering trees surrounding him, his eyes could still clearly see the slight flailing of the fawn he just shot before it went completely still. Above him, a flock of crows looked down on the fallen prey with their beady eyes, as if gauging the best time to dive for their feast.

He slowly picked himself up from his hiding spot, a wide oak tree with overarching branches that hid him from sight. He's been crouched there for a good half hour or so, just waiting for the fawn to finally circle the area. He's been observing it for the past week or so, taking note of its routes, and today he decided to make the kill.

Unlike other hunters, Jeno prefers the thrill that comes with stalking his prey over simply making a successful game. For him, the fun of hunting is in the process and not in its ending—a kill , after all, means nothing if you didn't work hard for it.

He looked down on the small fawn now as it lay lifeless on the mossy forest ground with its glassy eyes still open. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his hand over it to feel its heartbeat just to check if he killed it properly.

It was so beautiful and graceful just prancing in the forest a few days ago….it would be a shame if it suffers now.

"Hey, you got it?" A voice from the edge of the clearing made him look around. Haechan emerged from between the trees, his own hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Yup. What did you get?"

The other boy lifted a brown sack and gave it a light shake.

"Got three rabbits. I'm too lazy to skin them here so I'll just ask Taeyong-hyung to do it. Want to go back now?"

Jeno turned to look back at the fawn in front of him briefly before finally shaking his head. He didn't really want to go back to the mansion yet, so he decided to just throw an excuse to the other for now.

"You go ahead. I'll just skin it right here," he said casually over his shoulder at his brother. Haechan, too cold and too bored to stay another minute in the humid woods, gave a wave of his hand before turning back. Unlike Jeno, he prefers the comforts and luxuries of the manor over anything else.

"I'll go ahead then. Try to get back before nightfall, the forest can be a dangerous place~" he said in a sing-song voice, knowing full well it was a useless warning he just gave.

Jeno simply ignored him and silently pulled his skinning knife from his belt so he could get to work. Nights in the forest have never scared him, he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything, it is the creatures there who should be terrified of him.

------

You glanced over at Jisung and Chenle who were currently immersed in their readings over the page you’ve been scanning. The sun is about to set in just a few minutes and you have the last session of the day scheduled for the pair before you could pack up and go home. Your lips slightly quirked into a smile as you watched Jisung lean over slightly into the other to silently ask about something, Chenle looking up from his pages to roll his eyes before patiently answering. The two have such different personalities from each other, which adorably and ironically, makes them work so well together.

If you're going to be honest with yourself now, you'd say it is your time with the two youngest that you enjoy the most as Rosewood's tutor. Chenle and Jisung were withdrawn and shy at first, but the pair slowly started warming up to you as time went by. Maybe it's because they are younger, but you prefer the innocent air around them every time you would have your lessons. Chenle is the chattier and the more confident of the two, but with his help, even the shy Jisung also started lightly joking around with you on his best days.

That's not to say that you hate your time with the rest of the brothers. You've only ever had one session with Mark—which went so well as expected from the eldest—while the rest have always been polite and casual. There isn’t really anything about your job and connection with any of the boys that should put you on edge and yet... you have to admit that there are still those rare moments when you just feel as if something is out of place. You couldn't really place your finger on it, nor have you blatantly caught anything suspicious, but sometimes you just feel odd whenever you are around any of the four middle children. It’s something similar to being watched...like there is an imaginary pair of eyes always pinned to the back of your head, or the ghost feeling of hands hovering around your throat.

Your eyes flickered now to the grand clock on the far side of the room which finally struck five. Closing your own book which you have been scouring over, you called out towards the two who quickly looked up from their work.

"Alright, time's up. Have you answered the first two questions at least?" You asked with a smile. Chenle groaned and pointed at Jisung accusingly.

"I only got three questions because he kept disturbing me, noona."

Jisung frowned and you had to keep your laugh back with how offended he looked.

"Hey, I wasn't disturbing you. I was just asking questions."

"Okay, okay. Don't fight now. Do you want an extension for the chapter quiz? We do have our next lesson the day after tomorrow."

Their faces simultaneously lit up.

"Can we do that?" Chenle asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to leave you the assignment of reading another chapter and finishing the questionnaire for that as well. That'll be your homework, okay?" You tried your best to put on your best impression of a stern look, which only made the two giggle.

"Okay, noona."

"You promise you'll do it?"

Jisung put up his right hand and placed his left one over his heart.

"We promise."

That made you chuckle. "Well then, that will be all for today. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay? I'll have lessons with your brothers but just come to me if you have any questions." You gathered the rest of the papers that you have sprawled on the desk you were using before waving the two goodbye.

You were in the middle of trying to fit in a rather stubborn pile of files on your bag that you didn't really notice the tall figure that entered from the front door. When you finally looked up, it was already too late for you to stop crashing straight first into someone's chest, if not for the strong hands that held you steady. You felt an arm settle on your waist, and another on your back as you almost toppled when you hastily stepped back.

"Oh! I am so sorr—" you looked up with wide eyes to see Jeno looking down on you. Your words died in your throat when your eyes caught the red stain on his neck and you gasped.

"Jeno, what happened?!" Your voice raised in panic as you stared wide eyed at the blood running down the side of his neck. He gave you a slight look of confusion before raising a hand to touch the area you've been staring at.

"Ah… this…"

You didn't wait for him to finish. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and turned on your heels to drag him to the opposite direction. You didn't look back to see his surprised expression, and before he could even say anything, you had already pushed him into one of the expansive bathrooms down the nearest hallway.

"Sit there."

You pushed him urgently on the closed toilet seat before you proceeded to rummage on the hidden compartment behind the mirror that Taeyong showed you before. You quickly grabbed the box of first aid kit there and hastily opened an antiseptic wipe.

"Uhm...noona…"

You didn't pay him any attention, too focused on what you needed to do. You quickly kneeled in front of him so that you were more eye-level with each other before finally pressing the damp wipe against his injury.

"Shh. This might sting a little. We have to see how deep your wound is and stop the bleeding," you said, a small frown creasing your brows as your fingers gently dabbed at his skin. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice the light in his eyes shift as he looked at you closely. 

His gaze dropped to your slightly parted lips, then at the look of concentration on your features.

Are you...worried about him?

Your frown deepened as you finally managed to wipe most of the blood away from his skin. The antiseptic sheet you were using has already turned dark red from the liquid, but still you haven't—

"It's not my blood," Jeno said plainly, his voice suddenly sounding too close to you. You looked up to him in confusion, and for the first time you realized how close the two of you were. His gaze didn't waver from your face, pinning you into the spot where you are kneeling in front of him.

"Not your…"

"I was hunting. I was skinning the game I caught but my hand slipped and I hit a major vein. This is deer blood."

If your face wasn't burning after realizing how close the two of you were at the moment, it is definitely on fire now. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again in embarrassment. Jeno continued staring at you and you watched as his lips ever so slightly curled into a smirk.

That made you suddenly stand up from your crouch. He calmly followed you with his gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were injured so I panicked," you stuttered as your eyes fell on the bloody wipe that is still on your hands. You quickly ducked to throw it away just so you could avoid his gaze.

Jeno followed your every move closely before slightly leaning his head to the side. He seems to be mulling over something, face now devoid of any telling emotions.

"Were you concerned about me?" He asked, tone curious. You glanced at him in surprise, stunned that he would ask such a question. It was bad enough that you stumbled over your words when you finally managed a reply.

"Of course I was concerned. Anyone would be."

Jeno slowly stood up from where he sat and for the first time, you realized just how much he towered over you. It didn't help that the two of you were in a much smaller space than usual which sent a wave of claustrophobia to wash you over briefly. You involuntarily took a step back, eyes only high enough to meet the base of his neck.

"Why though?" He asked again, and you could genuinely hear the curiosity in his tone. You frowned. He was asking...as if he isn't used to such a level of care. As if things like this are so foreign to him.

"Because you are my student. And I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

For a moment, Jeno didn't say anything else. He simply looked at you while you tried so hard not to flinch under his heavy gaze.

Then, as if a switch had been turned, he took a step to the side to free some space between the two of you. Your eyes shot to his face when he did that, and you were met by his boyish smile that crinkled his eyes into half moons.

That made you blink. You see it on him whenever he is with the rest of his brothers, but it was the first time he ever smiled that way to you.

"Thank you, noona. I appreciate it."

It was as if a blockage in your throat dissolved all of a sudden. You smiled back, a sense of relief overtaking you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I panicked, too."

"It's cute. Nobody has ever��" he trailed off before shrugging. "I guess, it's because we're all men here. So none of us are used to that kind of care."

You nodded slowly at that. It really must be hard...being in this kind of household. Now that you think about it, the boys are technically orphans.

"Anyway, I have to go. I need to get back before dark. I'm not really a big fan of night drives," you said as you picked up the bag you had haphazardly thrown into the sink in your panic earlier. Jeno simply watched you silently from where he stood.

"Make sure to be careful next time alright? Don't give anyone a heart attack again," you smiled before finally excusing yourself out. He smiled back and gave a nod of goodbye as you closed the door.

Jeno turned to the mirror in front of him and slowly touched the part of his neck where your fingers grazed earlier. It was cold now from the antiseptic you had rubbed, but he could still remember how good the warmth of your touch felt against his skin when you were trying to wash the blood away. He curled his fingers slightly over the area now, leaving half moon marks as his nails dug there.

Oh what he would do to have you touch him again.

-------

"Pretty neat, huh?" You grinned at Jaehyun as he parked the car in front of the manor. You watched as your boyfriend's eyes moved over the impressive facade of the structure in front of him, knowing full well that his architect training is kicking in.

"Not bad. Victorian-era, probably. The stones look old but the place looks pretty well-kept…"

You grinned to yourself now as you leaned back on your seat. Of course you have absolutely no reason to be proud of something you don't own, but you can't help but boast a little at your boyfriend. It is your workplace after all.

Jaehyun turned to his seat now to give you a slightly guilty smile. He sighed before reaching out for your hand.

"Are you sure you will be okay though? I'm sorry about borrowing your car all of a sudden, the timing is just so bad."

You gave his hand a squeeze before patting it with your other. He was supposed to go on a three day business trip away from the city when his car, all of a sudden, just wouldn't start this morning. He wouldn't make it if he waits for the shop to fix it so the both of you decided to just have him use yours for now. At least he has enough time to drive you to work, which is why the two of you now are parked outside the manor, 10 minutes before your first lesson has to start.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure to pick up your car later. I'll have the taxi drive me there."

Jaehyun glanced back at the mansion briefly.

"Are you sure you can get a taxi here though? This is pretty far off the main road…"

Well...to be honest, you weren't even really sure about that yourself but he didn't have to worry about it right now. You nodded and reached over for your bag with a smile.

"Yes. Or I'll just ask Taeyong for help if I can't get one. I'm pretty sure they have some taxi companies in contact."

Jaehyun still didn't look convinced but gave you a small nod nevertheless. His eyes were back to studying the house again which made you chuckle.

"Jae, I'll be fine. You have to go now or you'll be late to your conference. Thanks for driving me here," picking up the last of your things, you leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheeks. He responded by pulling you over for a slightly longer kiss when you tried to move away.

"Yah, Jung Jaehyun. We'll both be late if you don't stop," you whispered softly with an amused tone. He laughed before finally letting you pull back.

"Just getting my fill of it since I won't see you in three days. Call me once you get home later, okay?"

"Mmn. Take care, too. Go get that deal closed," you gave him a wink before finally opening the passenger seat. You watched as he finally pulled away from the driveway and waited until he disappeared again on the long winding road before turning towards the manor again. You were almost at the front steps when the doors finally opened, spilling Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin out of them. You frowned slightly as you took notice of the canvases they were carrying as you approached the group.

"Hey...are you going somewhere? Class is about to start." You asked curiously, eyes landing finally on the small leather bag that Renjun was carrying. It seems to be full of art supplies.

"We're doing a free art class today, right noona?" The eldest of the trio asked. You nodded, still a bit confused.

"Renjun suggested we do it in the garden since the weather is nice today," Jaemin finally said. "We think it'll be a nice change from the stuffy rooms inside," he slightly jerked his head back at the wide windows of the manor which are currently shut back with thick curtains. You glanced at them briefly too before nodding slowly in understanding.

"Oh… I mean… It's not a bad idea. We can have the first session outside while the sun is still bearable, I guess."

That made Jaemin, and most especially Renjun smile. The boy can be withdrawn most of the time, but you did notice that he looks happiest whenever you do creative classes.

"Thank you, noona."

"No problem. I'll just put my bag inside and then I'll follow you. Why don't you set up your things first?"

You've taken a couple of steps towards the front door already when Haechan suddenly spoke up.

"Who was with you, noona?"

That froze you on your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face the trio again. They saw Jaehyun drive off?

"Oh, that was my boyfriend. He dropped me off today," you said casually with a smile. Haechan leaned his head a little bit to the side in curiosity.

"But he took your car…"

"Yes, he did. His broke down so he had to borrow mine. He's leaving for a three-day trip so—" you stopped all of a sudden, realizing that you're explaining things too much. There's nothing wrong about what you said but there was still a part of you that made you feel a little...exposed. Jaemin, Haechan, and Renjun, fortunately, didn't seem to notice and continued to politely look at you.

"Anyway, I'll just grab a cab to go home," you continued with a smile. "There are some who stop by here, right?"

"Yes. Or we can just ask Taeyong-hyung to drive you. He is the only one who has a license among us," Jaemin offered with a casual shrug.

"Ah, maybe I'll have to bother him this one time if I can't get a cab," you said with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I do have to bring my things inside. I'll see you."

You have already reached the top of the steps before the double doors when you finally realized something. Quickly you turned to the three boys who were just about to disappear to the side of the house leading to the manicured gardens.

"Wait, where's Jeno?"

It was Jaemin who answered.

"Oh yeah. He can't come. He is on bed rest."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

Haechan snickered which caused Renjun to shoot him a reprimanding look.

"He got into a hunting accident," the boy explained as he barely tried to keep his lips from twitching with amusement. "He was foolish enough to get stabbed in the chest by a stag."

-----

You gave the oak wood door a few light taps before drawing your hand back to yourself. You still weren't sure if this is a good idea, and yet here you are standing outside Jeno's room, the expansive hallway making you feel too small and out of place. This is the first time you've been in this part of the mansion since you only ever roamed the lower floors for your classes, and you couldn't help but feel a little strange at the heaviness of the air clinging around you now.

Maybe it's because it is where the private quarters of the boys are, but the corridor was only slightly illuminated by dimmed lighting from the lamps on the walls. Everything was silent, and for a moment you wondered if you got the wrong door that Taeyong gave directions to when you told him you wanted to check on Jeno. You have already taken a step back and was about to turn away when you heard some rustling from inside the room. It was followed by a voice muffled by the thick wood separating you from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

You froze on your spot for a few seconds before finally managing to shake yourself to open the door before you slowly. Peering around it, the first thing you noticed was how big the room was—it looked more like a smaller section of a house than a private quarters. It was dark, but a quick look at it told you that it was mostly bare if you don't count the essentials, which is a simple desk by the side, a long couch, and, in the middle, a four poster bed.

Your eyes landed on Jeno who was looking at you with equal mild surprise. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, the light from the laptop on his lap illuminating his face. You noticed that he didn't have a shirt on, but most of his skin from the right shoulder down to his chest was covered by bandages.

"Hi," you smiled, suddenly feeling conscious now as you stepped into his room.

"Um. Hi. What are you…"

"I heard that you were injured so I just dropped by to check on you," you quickly answered to diffuse any awkwardness that is in danger of settling between the two of you. Jeno blinked, as if processing what you just said.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't realize that I might be disturbing you. I can also just go back another time and—"

"No," He said all of a sudden before you could excuse yourself. Quickly, he closed his laptop and put it away on his side. "You can stay for a bit."

"Oh...great. I uh…" your eyes roamed around his room once again, hoping to find a chair that is closer to his bed. There was none. You figured the couch was the only place you could go to so you started walking towards it, Jeno's eyes on you.

"You can sit here," he suddenly said and you looked up to see him pointing at the foot of his bed. That made you stop before glancing again at the couch at the farther side of his room, something which he immediately noticed.

"It's too far away. It'll be awkward for us to talk if you sit there,” he said, as if he read your mind. 

That...makes sense. With a slight nod, you closed the distance between you and the bed instead and chose to sit by its far end.

Jeno was back to watching you as you settled down, his expression curious. You softly cleared your throat.

"How are you feeling?"

He glanced down his chest briefly. "Oh, I'm fine. It didn't hurt as much during the weekend, but I was still told to stay in bed. I can't really move that much yet."

"What happened anyway?"

He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly and looked away.

"I was trying to hunt a deer. I didn't know its mate was just around the area when I approached it so...yeah."

You winced as your eyes fell on his bandaged chest. You know next to nothing about hunting, but you know enough that an angry stag doesn't spell good news for anyone. Things could have been more serious for him.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't be in the hospital though?"

"Yes. We have a private doctor anyway. I just need to make sure I don't move too much to keep my wound from opening. And I also hate hospitals so I prefer to stay here…"

"You have to be more careful next time, okay Jeno? The forest is such a dangerous place…" you sighed before shifting your attention towards the window at the far wall of his room. He only had his curtains partially open but you could still see a sliver of the woods from where you sat.

Something about what you said shifted something in him. You missed it entirely thanks to the shadows from the room's dim lighting that masked his features, but it was there, hiding in plain sight.

"You take care of us so well."

You turned to him again as you heard him whisper something.

"What?"

Jeno simply smiled. He leaned back against the headboard, as if mulling over something.

"Since noona is worried about me, can you help me change my bandages?"

You blinked. That wasn't something you expected him to ask at all. Before, you figured Jeno to be one of the more withdrawn among the brothers, always with this air of intimidation about him, but lately, he has been throwing you off with these kinds of moments. He isn't flirty like Jaemin or sly and playful like Haechan, but he’s just so...direct. Almost pushy, sometimes. 

"I uhm… I don't know. I wouldn't know how to do it, maybe I can call someone and—"

You watched as he already started to undo the bandages on his torso, your eyes growing wide as he started to expose more skin.

"Jeno wait, I think we should call Taeyong for thi—oh my god."

Your words were cut off when he finally let the last of the bandages fall to reveal the cut on his torso. It started from his right chest, a few inches above the collarbone, and ran sideways to the middle where it cut off. Stitches held the skin together, and you could see the darkening sides of the flesh where it broke.

Yet it wasn't only that which caught your attention. Despite the dimness of the room, you could see other marks in his body, old scars that adorned his pale skin here and there. They varied in length and thickness, and you couldn't figure out what might have caused them. Were they from hunting accidents too…?

You immediately turned to look away. You didn't want to seem rude for staring. Jeno, however, seemed unbothered, if not mildly amused. Watching you through hooded eyes, he let you squirm for a little bit first before finally calling for your attention once more.

"Noona."

"Yes?"

"Help me, please?"

The tone he used on you finally made you turn with a slight wince, which only made him chuckle.

"You're not used to seeing injuries?"

"I'm not fond of them. I don't think anyone is."

“So let's get this over with then. I just need you to hold one side of the bandage for me while I wrap it again. It's hard when I do it alone."

You were about to open your mouth to say something again but chose to purse your lips after in the end. With a soft sigh, you finally picked yourself up from your spot by the foot of the bed to move closer to him. Jeno had already uncapped what looked to be a bottle of antiseptic at this point and had started to dab gently at his cut. You tried to watch without wincing too much as he tried to do the job, but it was probably too painful for him to move too much because he was missing a lot of it.

"Hey, just give me that. I'll do it," you asked as you gently took the cotton pad from him. Jeno wordlessly let you take it, eyes closely watching you as you ducked a little to clean his wound. You tried your best to keep your eyes on target, not allowing them to move anywhere else…

"It looks so bad… I'm surprised you can still move…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you frowned over it. You completely missed the way the corners of Jeno's lips ever so slightly tilted as your fingers brushed against his skin.

"Your fiance must have never gotten injured before, noona."

Your hand froze at what he said. Slowly, you looked up at him, only to see him smile at you.

"How did you…"

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung told us. He just reminded us to be nice to you or else you might quit. He said you are saving up for your wedding."

You didn't say anything at first after his explanation. There's nothing wrong about it, and it seems very in-character for Taeyong to say that since he seems to be the most worried about the possibility of you quitting. Still, you couldn't help the odd feeling that tugged at your chest, one you tried to shove back as you turned your attention again to what you were doing just so you could escape Jeno's gaze.

"Well… yes. I am saving up for it. But I also enjoy my time here… so far…"

Jeno smiled to himself as he looked down on you, eyes watching your every move.

"We'll behave too, we promise," he said softly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Until then, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind us borrowing you from him."  

----

"Jisung! Chenle! Don't run too far into the forest, okay?" Taeyong called out to the two boys who have already turned on their tails and have started running towards the woods. You watched as the two laughed and pushed at each other playfully before finally disappearing into the forest edge.

Taeyong sighed beside you and let the hands he had on his hips fall to his sides. You turned to him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for suddenly asking you to watch over them. I totally forgot that I had to drive the rest to their dentist appointment today," he said with a scratch of his head. You simply shook a hand at him to wave him off.

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any other classes today anyway so I'll just wait here for them. But... uh... are you sure that it is safe for them to play there?"

"Yes. As long as they stay in the right zones. There are parts there where some wild animals might roam around this season but Jisung and Chenle already know that, don't worry. It won't be the first time they'll be going there too. They've been playing there since they were kids."

You nodded slowly, still a little bit unsure as your gaze floated over to the woods once more. If it were you, you wouldn't let them go near it, especially after what happened to Jeno.

"I'll have to go then. I promise I'll be back by 5. Then I can drive you back to town after."

You turned to look at Taeyong once more and gave him a grateful smile. You usually would have declined the offer under normal circumstances, but you honestly think it will be easier and safer for you to just have him take you back later.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

The other nodded before giving you one last smile. Turning around, you watched him go to the car where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin were already waiting. Jeno was still in bed rest, so he is skipping the impromptu trip this time.

You only turned back to look at the woods ahead when you finally saw the black sedan disappear down the road. The forest looked foreboding in front of you, one look at it and you know there is no way you'll venture there in your own free will. With a sigh, you picked up the book you've brought with you and let yourself take a seat by the grass as you wait for Jisung and Chenle to return.

A sudden sharp caw that tore the air made you look up in surprise from the current chapter you were reading. You didn't have any idea how much time had already passed after you lost yourself in your book, but you were surprised to see that the sky had gone red over the horizon as a flock of crows soared from the depths of the forest. You watched as they circled just above the trees before finally disappearing far into the sky. That was when you realized it; it's been a while since Jisung and Chenle left.

With panic slowly creeping into your chest, you glanced at your watch then back at the mansion behind you. Taeyong didn't say anything about a curfew for the two kids, but your own sense told you that the pair should be back before night falls. Your gut told you that you should start looking for them, but the problem is that there is still more than half an hour left before Taeyong said they will return and the only other person left in the manor was Jeno—who can't even get out of bed. 

You swallowed. Before you could make any decision, however, a bone-chilling sound floated into the air that made your blood turn cold. It was faint at first, making you wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but then it called out again, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

It was Chenle. Screaming.

You broke into a run without a second thought.

It took you everything you have not to topple over the uneven forest floor as you wove through the trees. You have no idea where you were going, your mind and vision reeling as you tried to follow the voice. Your skirt have caught countless times on shrubberies and wayward tree barks as you tore through the woods but you kept going, not minding the tears on the fabric and the skin of your legs.

"Chenle! Jisung! Where are you!"

You called out desperately when the cries suddenly stopped. You were only barely aware of your heart thundering in your chest and your lungs burning from overexertion.

No. No. Don't stop screaming. I can't find you if you do.

"Chenle! Jisung!" You called out again desperately as you stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a small patch of land that dropped off to a ravine. The trees beyond were denser than the ones at the edge of the forest and the already fading light of the day wasn't helping the thick canopies above you that rained shadows on where you stood. You looked around and swallowed thickly. Something inside of you told you to turn around and run again but you stayed frozen on your spot, waiting for any sound from the kids.

It took you a few more heartbeats to pick up something again. Jisung's voice sounded far off to your right, maybe about 15 meters from where you currently are.

"Noona! Help! Chenle fell down!"

Your adrenaline jumped into action again.

"Jisung?! Jisung! Wait—Is Chenle with you?” A soft voice called out and you breathed in as you recognized the latter's tone. “I'm coming! Don't stop calling for me, okay, so I can find you!"

You were about to turn away from the edge of the steep ravine you were still standing on when you felt your back hit something hard. Before you could even turn around to look at it, however, a blunt force hitting the middle of your shoulder blades sent you toppling forward, straight into the sharp fall beyond.

You screamed, before everything went quiet as your head hit the bedrock below.

---

A.N. GOD THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO GLAD IT IS FINALLY DONE.

Taglist:  @negincho,  @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey​, @aj--7, @pukupukupawpau​, @tomiesgirlfren​, @vsszn

CHAPTER 4

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Stubborn Asshole (A Zak Bagans x Reader SMUT)

WARNINGS: Smut, language, possession

Special Thanks: To @xcazzax​ for being an awsome reader and source of inspiration. I couldn’t do this without you girly. 🥰

I love Aaron like a brother, don’t get me wrong, but DAMN HIM FOR BRINGING SUCH AN ASSHOLE INTO MY LIFE!

Douchey McGee: Hey Aaron said to message u.

He said: Get the fuck up Y/N!

Me: Tell him I said thnx and

and 2 not have the douche do

his dirty work.

Douchey McGee: Well fuck u 2 Y/N.

I sighed and crawled out of my hotel bed. We’d flown in late the previous night and I was still exhausted. I showered and got dressed in my ripped black skinny jeans, my black GAC shirt, and combat boots. I grabbed my hoodie and purse on the way out. Downstairs in the attached restaurant the rest of the crew were gathered for breakfast and much needed coffee.

“Morning gorgeous,” Aaron greeted.

“Fuck off Goodwin, I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I said taking my seat beside him. “And by the way since when is boss man your own personal secretary.”

“And here I thought you didn’t know me as anything but Douche McGee, douche, or my personal favorite: Stubborn asshole son of a bitch.” Zak chimed in.

“Good morning to you too Satan,” I rolled my eyes.

I swear ever since we met Zak has made it his life mission to push my buttons in any way he can. But unfortunately for this psychotic fuck, two can play that game.

“Huh that’s original,” Zak continued.

I rolled my eyes and ordered an omelet with coffee. “So you gonna tell me when you decided to make boss man your bitch?” I asked Aaron.

“Well I figured I’ve been the bitch long enough so…” Aaron said.

“Dude, since when have I ever treated you like a bitch?” Zak asked.

“Every time you forced him to stay in a fucked up room by himself during an investigation like a fucking sadist?” I pointed out.

“Oh...right…” Zak said looking like he felt a tinge of guilt.

“Does that mean I’m a bitch too since he’s been doing the same thing to me lately?” Billy chimed in.

“Unfortunately,” I said just as my breakfast arrived arrived. “Oh, thanks.” I said to the waitress.

“Only you can go from bitchy to bubbly in zero seconds flat,” Zak said.

“Fuck you too, Bagans,” I muttered taking a bite of my omelet.

“Not in this life babe,” Zak muttered taking a sip of his coffee.

It continued like that even in the car on the way to the days location: Bly Manor. According to our sources Bly Manor was built in the 1800’s by Charles Bly, an Irish immigrant who made a fortune selling liquor and tobacco. By the time of the Civil War he decided to try his hand at weapons manufacturing which earned him enough to break ground on his dream house. He lived in the manor with his family. His wife Athena, and his daughter Josephine.

It said that on a sunny afternoon while do work in the Manor’s yard a man by the name of Bishop Wiley showed up and shot him dead. Supposedly Wiley’s son Robert was a soldier in the war and was killed by the very guns Charles helped build.

Charles has since been purported sighted walking the manor grounds. His wife Athena has been seen playing the piano, and wandering the halls. As for Josephine well… she was the most famous spirit of all.

“Josephine has been seen on the balcony of the Red Room,” explained our tour guide as we interviewed her. “The story goes that Josephine had met and fallen in love with a man at a nearby farm. And just before they were due to be married he left to fight in the war. She promised to wait for him there until his return. Hopeful that they could still marry and have a family. Sadly the man lost his life in Gettysburg. Charles felt so horrible he felt the need to keep it from her. So she continued to wait. And continues to wait to this very day.”

My heart ached for Josephine. It’s a whole other level of hell to lose someone so dear… I damn near jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Zak asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” I said before following the tour guide.

We eventually took a break for lunch and then got ready for the investigation. Unlike most of the crew I made it a habit of carrying a small black backpack. I was just stuffing a recorder, spirit box, and MEL Meter when someone pat my shoulder.

“Hey are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Zak asked again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good, um, why the niceties?”

“I may be an asshole sometimes but I do feel for people now and then,” he said.

“Even me?” I arched an eyebrow at him. Before he could answer Aaron barged in needing to grab a spare lens for the camera.

We continued prepping in silence and then slowly but eventually the sun went down and moon shined bright.

Aaron, Zak, and I went in together. We worked together as a group for a while before (in true Zak Bagans fashion) we split up.

“Y/N I want you to stay up here for a while and see if Josephine will communicate with you,” Zak said.

“Alright,” I said stepping out onto Josephine’s balcony. Zak and Aaron disappeared through the Red Room door and I took out my recorder. “Josephine, are you here?” I started. “If so do you think you could answer a few questions for me? I promise you I mean no harm. Just speak into this little device for me.”

I felt a chill in the air but continued. “Why are you still waiting for him?” I asked. “Don’t you think he’s waiting for you on the other side?”

I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness and anxiety. I slid down to the ground and then... He promised me. I kept thinking for some odd reason. He promised...he promised we’d go...he promised on the stars...he promised we’d be together.

The thoughts kept coming, and I don’t know when it started but I only realized I was crying when I felt someone shake me violently. “Y/N TALK TO ME DAMMIT!!!”

Zak knelt in front of me looking freaked. “D-Don’t ever leave me,” I cried. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“Josephine leave her alone, please,” Zak asked. “I know what happened to you was cruel and unfair but that doesn’t mean she should suffer like this.” Call me crazy but Zak actually sounded kind of pissed. There was another chill and he knelt beside me again. “I’m here  sweetheart…” He whispered brushing my cheek with his hand. “I’m here.”

I looked up at him and saw a face that was not his. His hair was chocolate brown and barely touched his shoulders, his eyes the same. My heart took off in joy and I threw my arms around him. He squeezed me before pulling back and taking my face in his hands. “Promise not to disappear on me again?” I asked.

“I promise,” he muttered before bringing his lips to mine. We kissed passionately as though it was a long time coming. After a while it felt like a weight lifted off me and my legs became limp. “WHOA!”

Zak caught me. It was for sure him this time. I was suddenly more aware of things...more awake. “Zak...what? What happened?”

“I dunno,” he said. “But I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”

He scooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way to the GAC van.

“You know you didn’t have to carry me right?”

“Says the girl who just nearly passed out on me,” Zak said setting me down in the back of the van.

“Um Zak did you want us to edit out the last bit of her footage or..?” Billy asked awkwardly.

“Edit it out? Why?” Zak asked. Blushing furiously Billy replayed the footage from the night vision cam we had facing the balcony. It showed me slowly crumbling and then…

“Oh sweet fucking Jesus,” I groaned as Zak and I started making out on screen.

“Uh...yeah I don’t think we need to uh-*cough*-show that,” Zak said turning back to me. “Are you, uh, gonna be okay?”

“Um...yeah I think so,” I said not entirely meeting his eye. “You-uh-you go ahead. I’m just gonna chill with Billy the rest of the night.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Now go before I drag you back in by your balls,” I threatened.

“Oh yeah you’re gonna be fine,” he said turning his back on me.

“You know you two are actually kinda hot together,” Billy said.

“What? Are you high? Zak and I can barely stand each other,” I said.

“Bull-fucking-shit Y/N,” Billy laughed. “We all can see there is insane tension going on between you. We just don’t get why you guys haven’t done anything about it.”

“What are we the hot gossip going around the office or something?”

“I mean, if this almost-porno is anything to go by...then yeah.”

“Billy I swear to God if I catching you jerking off to that—.”

“You’ll cut my nuts off I know,” he finished for me. “Besides I would never in hell jerk off to my best friend and his girl. It’s too weird.”

“I’m not his girl,” I snapped at him.

“Whatever you say Y/N,” Billy laughed. “Now did you wanna review this evidence with me or..?”

And so I did.

Once the investigation ended we packed up, caught a few minutes sleep then made our way back to Vegas.

Billy, Jay, and Aaron were dropped off first. Then it was just me and Zak.

Aaron: Try not to kill Zak please.

Me: No promises.

Zak then pulled up to my place.

“Are we never gonna talk about it?” I asked as he parked.

“What’s there to say?” he asked. “It-It was a freak incident. We-we weren’t ourselves.”

“True you were actually nice for once,” I said sarcastically.

Zak glared at me. “Go fuck yourself, Y/N.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward,” I blurted out. “I mean...um...fuck!” I sighed and stepped out of the car. I had just unlocked my door when…

“Y/N!” I turned around and saw Zak running up to me.

“Wha―” I was cut off by Zak slamming his lips to mine.

He kissed me hard, as though he was relieving an ache deep within his heart. I kissed back and clumsily opened my door. Zak picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and carried me to my bedroom. He placed me on the bed and I reached up to pull his shirt off. I tossed it aside and eventually more articles of clothing followed.

Zak laid me back on the bed and started pecking a trail of kisses all the way down to my heat. A moan escaped my lips as he kissed and sucked on me. “HO-HOLY SHIT!”

To say Zak knew what he was doing would be an understatement. He didn’t stop eating me until I was writhing beneath him. “Z-ZAK!” My back arched and my toes curled up in the most powerful orgasm of my life.

He crawled back up to me, smirking. “Not much of an asshole anymore, am I?”

“Oh shut up,” I brought my lips back to his as I ran my hand up and down his length which like the rest of him was thick and hard. I suddenly felt him move my hand before he reached down and placed himself at my entrance. He kissed me once more before pushing in. “FUCK! How the fuck have you been single this long?”

“Demons tends to be excellent cock blocks,” Zak said as he started to thrust. “Lucky for us, they tend to stay away from you.”

“R-Really?”

He grunted then nodded. Despite his big, tough, persona Zak was actually really sensual and passionate in bed. He kept his thrusts gentle (probably because he knew his above average size could inflict some damage if he wasn’t careful) until I urged him to go faster and harder. After a while he flipped us over so that I was on top. I rode him hard, and Zak, being a gentleman, helped me out by thrusting up into me as I did.

The tension began building up inside me. “Fuck...Zak I-I think I’m gonna…” It hit me like a wave. I tightened around him, arching my back, and damn near screaming his name.

Zak flipped us over again and continued thrusting until he grew sloppy. I suddenly felt him twitch inside me as he cursed and groaned. His body shuttered as he painted my womb with his seed. Finally he collapsed beside me, both of us breathless.

“Wow,” I said.

“I know,” Zak said.

Once my breathing was under control I turned to him. “So...what now?”

He looked over at me.

“I guess we just be together,” he said. “It’s kind of what you do when you’re insanely in love with someone.”

“You’re in love with me?” I asked.

“I’ve always been in love with you,” he smiled. “Ever since we met...I just didn’t want the spirits in my life to hurt you so I decided to keep you away.”

“What changed?”

“Besides that they for some reason stay away from you?” I nodded. “I was tired of letting them get in the way of what I want. I was tired of being away from you.” He draped his arm over my waist. “I love you.” He muttered.

“I love you too,” I said pecking him on his swollen lips.

We spent almost every day together after that. It’s been a year and we are still together. Life was the same for the most part. We still investigated places, while not in bed or spending time with each other. The guys were relieved to see us together (at last) until our PDA became a little too much for them to handle. Oh and there was one other difference as well…

“Y/N BAGANS COME GET YOUR MAN HE’S BEING FUCKING TERRIFYING AGAIN!” Aaron shouted at me through the walkie.

“What happened to having the preggo investigator hang back all night?” I asked rubbing my stomach. Zak made everyone swear not to let me into the buildings with malicious spirits and demons.

“Y/N please,” Aaron begged.

I sighed and looked down. “Aaron Nicholas Bagans for the love of god don’t be a stubborn asshole like your daddy.”

With that I exited the van and went to save the love of my life.

[thelittleredrobinhood]

Happy Birthday to You

In honor of Batman Day I’ve decided so post my first fic (it was meant for Jason Todd's birthday but hey its only a month late). Also, a special thank you to @reese-haleth for helping me edit!

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Length: 1,900 words

Summary: A song fic to Happy Birthday about four of the most important birthdays in Jason Todd's life.

Trigger Warnings: Homelessness, Major Character death (canonical). If you would like me to add any please let me know. 

12th

Jason runs faster than he had in his entire life, an angry cop close on his tail. Just as he’s about to be caught he notices a fire escape up ahead. Acting quickly, he pulls himself up, still clutching his prize, and climbs out of view. From his hidden perch, he watches as the officer looks around the alley below, then angrily goes on to continue his search elsewhere.

 “Just like taking candy from a baby,” Jason mutters to himself, still half out of breath.

 After another moment he leaves his spot and returns to the streets, making sure to avoid the local cruisers out looking for trouble. Eventually he reaches the part of town even the cops won’t go and he’s home free. Well he’s free, he doesn’t exactly have a home to go to, but that’s a problem for later.

 On the cracked steps of an old abandoned building he finally stops to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. A box filled with a half dozen doughnuts, minus the one the officer was eating when Jason stole the rest. Glazed, not his favorite; He always liked chocolate best, but he wasn’t in a position to complain. He smiles to himself as he holds up the first treat.

 “Welp, it’s no birthday cake but it will have to do,” he says to himself. “Happy birthday to me, 11 may have sucked but maybe 12 will be better,” the young boy finally smiles. “I guess it’s time to make my wish.”

 Just as he is about to, an odd shadow passes by. He quickly looks up, just in time to catch a fading glance of the Batman himself, running across the rooftops, his path lit only by the moon. Jason waits another moment, but no one follows behind the vigilante. Robin had been gone for a few months now, though no one knows what happened for sure. Some say he died, some say he quit, some say he ran off to California.

 “Psh, California, what an idiot. If I were Robin I’d never leave,” Jason mumbles as he finally tears his eyes from the sky and looks back down at the box in his lap.

 “Well, these doughnuts aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

 He blows out his imaginary candles and wolfs down his dinner.

 Happy Birthday to you

 15th

An alarm blares as the light shines through his window. Normally, Jason would ignore it and go back to sleep, since Alfred would wake him up later, but today was different. He bolts awake after just the first beep and begins getting ready. Still struggling with his pants, he throws open the door and runs downstairs, sliding a little on the hardwood floors at the bottom of the grand staircase, he catches himself just in time. Before becoming Robin, he definitely would have fallen on his butt. It looks like all his training really is paying off.

 Stopping himself before the doorway of the main dining room, he makes himself presentable and walks in as calmly as possible.

 “Morning B,” Jason says nonchalantly as he enters the room and takes a seat.

 Bruce is sitting peacefully at the head of the table with his usual cup of coffee and today's paper. He glances up at his ward with a knowing smile on his face.

 “Good morning, Jaylad. Sleep alright?”

 Just as Jason was about to respond his nose caught the scent of breakfast. He snapped his head to the kitchen door to see Alfred bringing in the world’s largest tray of pancakes. It’s a yearly tradition; Jason always gets his favorite foods on his birthday.

 Today is always his favorite out of the whole year, everything about it is awesome. Bruce always takes off work to celebrate with him, and later he would open presents. They would play video games and basketball and whatever else Jason could think of. Maybe Dick would even swing by for a bit! It's the best.

 Although every moment is great, Jason’s favorite part is the end. They will all gather in the dining room, but Jason will get to sit at the head of the table this time. Bruce will turn out the lights and Alfred will bring in a homemade birthday cake. They’ll sing to him and he’ll blow out real candles, like in the movies. He could picture it now.

 The only problem is, he can’t figure out just what to wish for. He has everything he could ever want. He finally has a place; he finally has a home. It takes him the whole day to figure out his wish, but when he finally found it, he knew.

 He wished to stay right here, for the rest of his life.

Happy Birthday to you

 18th

The night air was freezing on his skin, the absence of the sun leaving his world cold. Today used to be a day of celebration, now it only brought pain. In his heart he knows he did all he could, that he had given his son everything and more. But then why did he blame himself?

 Bruce follows the overgrown path to the small graveyard. He did not come here often, though that only makes the guilt stronger. He should try to fix that, but he never will.

 Today he swallows the pain and guilt and kneels to the ground, placing a lone rose before a small grave. Too small, just like the boy buried underneath it. He had never had the chance to grow much, as years of malnutrition kept him far shorter than his peers, but Bruce had never minded. It meant he got to carry him a little longer, before he grew too big. He wished he could carry him again, just one last time. 

 The tears came before he could stop them. The water flooding his cheeks as the memories flooded his mind. A small boy laughing, opening presents just a few years ago. He would have been 18 today, officially a man.

 Maybe it's better this way.

 The thought crawls through his brain, dredged up from the darkest corner of his mind.

He will get to stay Bruce's little boy forever, he will never leave him. He will stay the perfect child, untainted by the rebellion of youth and the pain of adulthood, but deep-down Bruce knew, he would watch all of that happily if it meant he got to see his son again. He would do anything to feel the pain of watching his child outgrow him. He would give everything to feel something other than this. Anything but this.

 He stands abruptly, he has to leave. He’s too close to breaking down, to losing it completely, and if he did that, he may never be able to put himself back together. That’s why he never comes here, it’s why he can’t. Too many people rely on him now.

 He takes a deep breath and one last look at the grave. He tries to say it, to form the words on his tongue, but they never come.

 He walks away.

 Happy Birthday dear Jason

 20th

Red Hood runs like he has been running his whole life, like he’ll never stop. He doesn’t bother to see if the cops are still chasing him, he doesn’t care, he just runs.

 He turns down an alley and spots an old fire escape and its instinct. He hops up and climbs until the street is far beneath him. He hears the cops down below, sees their lights flashing in the night sky. He remembers when he used to be scared of them, not anymore. Now they’re scared of him.

 They won’t follow him here, but it doesn’t matter, he keeps running. Truth be told, it's not them he’s running from today. Finally, he stops and takes a moment to catch his breath. He walks to the roof's edge to rest when he realizes where he is.

 The building had been condemned many years ago, now just a rotting shell and cracked front steps. When he was younger, he used to come to this place all the time. It was far enough from the worst part of town that he could handle himself, but just close enough that the cops wouldn’t come near. It was safe here.

 He takes a seat and rests on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging over the side, feet dangling far above the street below. There was a time in his life he used to dream of this view, staring up at the rooftops, wishing for a different life. He learned the hard way to be careful what you wish for.

 The rest of the memories hit him full force, everything he was avoiding smashing into him like a bomb. Images of a happy boy bursting behind his eyelids, eating pancakes and playing basketball. Fragments of a life he lost; one he can never have back. A life he would give anything to have back, especially today. No one even remembered what today is, it used to be his favorite day of the year.

 He loses track of time as he watches life go on below him, so much time has passed since he was last here, but some things never change. It’s quite when he first notices it, the flicker of a familiar shadow. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, but lets him come.

 A quiet thump sounds behind him, he doesn’t even flinch.

 “What do you want B?” he asks without turning around.

 A moment later the footsteps come closer and a large figure sits down calmly beside him. They sit in silence for a moment, what a sight that must be. The Red Hood, a wanted murderer, and the dark knight himself. Though Hood had long since stopped worrying about things like that and if the people below noticed them, they didn’t care enough to show it.

 “Why are you here B?” Hood asks again.

 “Do you think I forgot?” Batman turns to his son and removes his mask, transforming instantly to Bruce Wayne. “We still celebrated, even when…” he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Red Hood turns to him in surprise, and after another moment removes his mask as well. Becoming just Jason Todd.

 “Why?” he asks.

 “You’re family,” Bruce says

 “Even after all these years? Even after everything I’ve done?”

 “When you were gone, I would have done just as much and more to bring you back, no matter how long it took. You’re my son,” Jason looks away to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

 “What now?” Jason says. His voice rough, quiet.

 “Whatever you want Jay-lad. It’s your birthday after all,” Bruce responds, his voice just as broken. “Alfred even made cake.”

“Yeah, alright. I could definitely go for some cake.” Jason smiles weakly. Bruce nods and replaces his cowl, gesturing for Jason as he leaps from the roof. Red Hood replaces his helmet and follows into the moonlight.

 Down below, two odd shadows cast the street in darkness as Batman and his Robin run across the rooftops once more.

 Happy Birthday to you

[dawning-star]

Layers: Rinalys

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: “Rinalys. ...Rinalys Dawnstar if you’re wanting the full.”

Eye Color: “A light shade of purple. Darker limbal rings.”

Hair Style/Color: “Long. Wavy. Sometimes I keep it up. It’s also pink. Which is the natural color, you’ll just have to trust me on that.”

Height: “Four-fulm, ten ilm.”

Clothing Style: “Guess there’s no better way to put it than casual. Armor has always felt like it slows me down and I at least try to be covered if nothing else. I have no real reasons to ‘dress up’ so it is as I am.”

Best Physical Feature: “If I’m having to pick my own best, it’d be the eyes. Maybe it’s vanity but I’ve always liked the color they have.”

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “Being left to struggle, to die alone. To fail those around me when it matters the most. And, well, getting too close and personal with large insects as well.”

Your Guilty Pleasure: “There are certain books that Honore got me. At least he called them what might be my ‘guilty pleasure’ once I’m ready. I think I’m getting a little closer to the level that I can read. He...didn’t really specify other than they’re Limsan something-or-others. ”

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “People who carelessly waste my time. Even if I’m less busy these days.”

Your Ambition for the Future: “...To be able to fight again. To hold my own without people taking pity. Maybe once I have that, happiness.”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Usually that I don’t want to get up yet. That I’m too comfortable.”

What You Think About the Most: “Lately, how I could have been doing more right then than what I am. How can I just laze around...��

What You Think About Before Bed: “Hoping to rest easy. That...maybe the dreams will let me this time.”

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “I care for others. Just that I want the best for them that they deserve. After all the struggling going around in this world between wars and other types of fighting or trying to live... That’s enough right?”

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: "Single dates. Though I struggle to recall having much of either.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Loved, maybe. While respect is nice when earned, there’s something to the thought of being loved.”

Beauty or Brains: “Mean if it can’t be both? Brains then. Though heart is more important if I’m being honest.”

Dogs or Cats: “Cats.”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: "Only if I need to. Usually in the past for work. Deception can be a thing for some jobs I had.”

Believe in Yourself: "...Not currently, no. Bit hard to until I’m back on my feet better.”

Believe in Love:  “Yes, mostly for others. Some of us it’s just a pipe dream in the end.”

Want Someone: “...Yes. Not that anyone but him needs to know it. Not that I’m sure he should either. I.. want to know more of them.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “No. I’m no entertainer.”

Done Drugs: “I haven’t, actually.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “I don’t think I have. It’s either take me or leave me.”

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: “Deep green.”

Favorite Animal: “Coeurls. When they’re little.”

Favorite Food: “Wonder if there’s any of that rolanberry cake around still.”

Favorite Game: “Huh?” A blank stare only seems to accompany this question.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “It never does change, does it? Have I thought of those wrong all this time... It’s always the certain sun of a moon, right?”

How Old Will You Be: "If I kept track right, next would be the thirtieth turn.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “...I’m not sure the exact. Lost track at points with how life was. I wasn’t young though.”

Does Age Matter: “For what now?”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “Even if they try to hide it, a kind heart goes a long way. Empathy, I think it’s called. There’s strength in that. Though it’s hard to take if it’s focused my way.”

Best Eye Color: “Something bold or vibrant. Gold I’ve found catches me the most. Hard to look away from them. Other colors too but, those might be a favorite.”

Best Hair Color: “Well, the previous two I thought I had a good thing with both had black hair. Might be coincidence, might be a trend. Though the color doesn’t really matter in the end to me.”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Spend time. Be close. Touching, maybe. Doesn’t have to be -that- though it’s always a bonus.”

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “I love those that I keep closest. They’re all I have.”

I feel: “I feel lost lately.”

I hide: “I hide a lot, probably. Too much, maybe.”

I miss: “...I miss home. The homeland. The past.”

I wish: “I wish that some things could have turned out differently. For me.”

- - - - - - - - - 

// Tagged by: @blue-sentinel​​ 

// Tagging: @houserosaire​​, @rookmoks​​, @hiraethwyl​​, @reddevil-xiv​​, @liminal-storage​​, @monkhsuns​​, @roses-and-grimoires​​, @thedarknesssings​​, @louvel-roche​​, @gorgagne-viperidae​​, @daylightrays​​, @bookbornexiv​​, @severine-savage​​, @stone-xiv​​, @littlestcreampuff​, @aegis-fate​ and whoever else so wants to. Just tag me back if you do! I’ve probably inevitably missed a chunk of people I normally would.

[redevenir]

living alike (pt. i)

joshua x reader

wc : ~ 3800

a/n : It all started with @tearsofsyrup ‘s suggestion for the made-up title fic game and here i am... So thank you! I took the liberty to use the title again, hopefully it’s ok with you? Otherwise just tell me! I have said it before, but I think  shua and dark au... it is the thing, you know. Which is why I strongly encourage you to read paradigm shift (apocalypse au) as well as you hide; i’ll seek (both sexy titles by the way) and to check on these two writers’ other work because they’re excellent.

« I feel entirely dehumanised by the sun now and wish for fog, snow, rain, humanity. » from a letter to Edward Sackville-West, Virginia Woolf.

The soft clunks of water droping from the leaking sink behind you make your hair stand on end. You should be used to it by now, but you aren’t. Like everything else, it makes you uncomfortable. You wanted nothing more than to be buried deep in the swamps of the Administration. Hidden. Except you were a little frog on a desert, except everyone has seen you, and will remember your face. Hiding is no longer an option for you, the only way out is to disappear.

You take one last look at your ransacked room. You break a window for good measure, and head out, living the door open.

The soft thuds of rain against the cars’ glasses. Tight heart, empty lungs, he is the silent audience of an artificial show. A shadow wandering around the streets, the ghost of a ghost. Counting his footsteps. Counting the people on the sidewalk. Counting the cars. Counting the officials around the Prefecture. Thirty more steps to go. Joshua takes a deep breathe into his scarf. It seems no one is paying attention to him. Grey car, blue car. His hands are soaked, buried deep inside the pockets of his rain coat. Nothing can protect him from the summer rains. He takes a brief look above the ground, checks out the position of the sun, goes back to his feet. He needs to move faster. He cannot afford to be out during office hours. Twenty steps. He spots the door to his place and restrains himself from going faster. One excruciating step at a time. All around him, people move, people go from places to places. They listen to the speeches, they read the speeches, they learn the speeches, they believe the speeches. It is already hard for Joshua to breathe, let alone act. A small field mouse trapped in a gigantic machine. There is no room here for him, he feels it, fears because of it. Knows that in an instant everything could spin around him. Field mice are preys. There are so many predators around him, it is only a matter of time. Light turns green, the cars stop. He goes his way. Unsure, uneasy. Five steps. He reaches his door, doesn’t look back, and goes down the stair to his tiny underground studio.

Once he’s inside, finally, he lets out an exhale he didn’t notice he was holding. Double locks his door, puts the chair against it, and turns the light on. Here, underground, there is no sun light to warm up the air. He crosses the only room as he gets undressed, leaving his soggy coat for the clamminess of his quarter, and rummages through his clothes to find a change, replaying his stroll of the day. Nothing new. They are still agitated. Until they calm down there is no need to contact anyone, he decides. He reheats some unsavory stew for the fifth time this week, cleans up his plate, and crashes on the single bed, hoping for time to pass quickly.

He spends an agitated day, running after sleep, running from his thoughts. Even though he never sleeps well, there is always a part of him which foolishly hopes for a good rest. Remembering the kind of sleep he relished as kid, when he didn’t have to think about falling asleep. When laying down in bed was enough to dive deep in a warm unconsciousness, full of foolproof dreams. No matter where his drowsy mind takes him, he feels overwhelmed, on the edge of being assaulted. Faceless and formless assailants gathering in the dark to slaughter him.

Rising up, he picks a bottle of drinking water, ignores the remnants of the garbage stew, plans his wandering for tonight. He never follows the same path twice, in case someone might notice him. He puts on his parka which hasn’t dried, shivers when it brushes against his neck. There is nothing to do about it. Most of the time, Joshua tries to ignore his apartment. It is a disgusting place, filthy the minute he finishes to clean up. It is never warm, nor dry, nor hot. He never sees the light of day, never feels a breeze, for there are no windows down there. It is the best he can afford this close of the Great Palace. A miserable rat hole, nothing close to a nice burrow. It is the price to pay for a night cashier to get involved in bigger schemes. His eyes are priceless now that he has sold their sight. It is the only comfort he has found in doing so. The thrill of being useful – for whom? He has no right to know. But every morning after his shift, he goes out for his stroll, looking for anything out of the ordinary, and when there is, he reports it. One of them comes to the shop every week. Usually, though, Joshua tells nothing to his contact. Things do not change that often. But recently there has been movement. Why, he does not know, but they’ve been agitated, walking faster. Even though no one, of course, will tell him why, he knows something has happened. Something bad enough to be noticeable, bad enough that there has been no announcement on TV.

This is life now, he knows. Waiting and waiting and waiting for something which might never come. Joshua hesitates, then goes out without looking back. Maybe today, he’ll see something worth reporting. It’s raining as usual, but the sun is still up, somewhere behind the gray sky. The street lamps are not lighten yet. As usual, he goes right, then waits for the traffic lights to let him cross. He could not live closer to the supermarket, yet the path still bothers him – the ugliness of the streets, the noises of the city, the sickening smell of corruption and silent violence. He goes his way to the store, spends his night registering meaningless shop lists for night owls craving sugar or salt. His curved lips draw an empty smile to every customer while his mind goes through various scenarios of what might bother the authorities. He has no clue. What could indeed bother them? He is as ignorant when his shift ends as he was when it began. It is not a life. He could find out more, if he were a bit more audacious. But any step out of his supposed way is a risk he might pay with his life. Maybe, walking around the Palace’s streets is enough for now.

He puts his hands deeper in his pockets and waits for the lights to turn green. From the corner of his eyes, he notices a figure running in his direction. They storm before him, and throw themselves on the road. The sound of the car hitting your body is horrifying.

You spend an eternity drowning. Lungs full of mud, every living minute is a suffocation. The crushing weight of an undisturbed blackwater river is grinding your bones into mush, entangled between the roots of indifferent trees. You barely see the light, on the rare moments you emerge from your drowning, vision blurred by silt burning your eyes. You fight and you fight, and every new moon, every new tide brings you a new death.

In flashes you see faces, and you try to remember who pushed you into the river. A thin string of lost rooms and half forgotten conversations torments you, sending you in every direction. You lose yourself into a labyrinth of bewildered and electrifying memories. You try to scream for help but the dark water suffocates you more.

You cease to fight.

You let yourself flow, descending quietly in the abyss, a faint contentment when you touch the ground. An unusual corpse for shellfish and crustaceans to feast on. The soft pulse of your heart clawing his way out of your defeated chest. Far above you, you feel the lazy current going its way, ignoring you. There, cocooned in a silence older than a lifetime, it is easier for memories to come back to you. Faint lights above the school’s playground, burnt smells from the overcooked plum jam, a terrifying voice on the intercom freezing you to the core. You remember the pointy hat of the master, the piles of administrative sheets in his warm office, its walls painted of a deep, ancient red. You remember his whispers in your ears, which you tried so hard to ignore. His discreet threats disguised as indecent offers. Your remember going for his grocery shopping every four days, in the late hours of the quiet city. You remember knocking one of the piles over, and reading them against your best will. A pale breeze of rage brushes your cheek, unable to harm you.

You remember taking it with you, the vivid proof of the crime, on a hasty decision. You remember destroying your dorm. You remember the streets.

The moment you wake up you immediately regret it.

Every inch of your body is aching a thousand burn. You cannot open your eyes, the throb in your head makes you nauseous. Your throat is parched, and the feeble whine you manage to cry out is a pain in itself. Miles away you feel movement, in the distance you hear a voice filled with concerned, asking you words which you can’t separate from each other. It seems a worried litany of disquiet. Suddenly you feel cold and wet on you forehead, a divine relief to the pounding. The voice comes closer and takes your hand. You feel your hand. You have a hand. Panic rushes through your body like it never felt it, you try to move away, to get out, how can it touch you, what is touching you when you can’t even feel yourself?

Weirdly the voice seems to understand. It becomes quieter, soothing almost, ushering things you don’t understand, but it appeases you nonetheless. You feel it close to your hear, you feel its breathe against you. You’re sensitive and it has you tensed immediately, but it doesn’t last for long. A few seconds, the promise of safety. You pass out again.

The next time you wake up, everything is much clearer. You manage to open your eyes despite the soreness of your head. What you see when you do has you freezing up again, afraid you might have lost part of your sight. It is all black and gray. Gray ceiling above your head, a worrisome pattern of cracks. Gray walls, empty of any embellishment. Even the duvet cover is a dirty white. You try to straighten yourself, leaning on your elbow. It has you wincing but it is worth it. You take in your surrounding, even in the darkness of the unlit room. Someone has put your right leg into a splint of fortune, and did the same to your right elbow. You hold your breathe a minute, until you are assured to be alone. Nothing about it is familiar. There is a strong smell of menthol ointment that might come from you – the scent is overwhelming, and you cannot be sure. Your attempt to sit properly ends up worsening the piercing pain in your brain, and you resolve to wait until someone brings you water or food. Without any indication of the passing of time, you lose all notion of it, examining each clue of the room. You have never come here, and it makes you uneasy. You are facing the door and it reassures you a bit, whoever comes here will not have you at their mercy. At last, you hear the creaking of a key into its hole, which makes your heart racing. The door opens behind you in a squeak.

The man is tall, his shoulders wide as he bends a bit to come inside. The youth of his face strikes you the most. He might not be older than you are – and you are rare. The both of you belong to the last generation of children – it is also why, now that all of you are grown-ups, the officials are monitoring each and every one of you carefully. The last trace of unpredictability in the country. And, well, looking at the current situation, maybe they are right. It takes him a while to notice you, and you quietly observe him locking the door, putting a chair against it. Breathing, eyes closed, he relaxes before you. When he turns around, you see him immediately checking on the mattress – checking on you. And his face lightens up when he sees you facing him, rushing to you.

« Oh! You’re up! Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Hungry? Space? He chuckles. Take your time, he adds with a smile. » He exudes relief. Your throat hurts too much, so you mimic drinking and he’s on it, handing you a full glass of water. Then you point at him.

It is not going well. Your convalescence is endless. Your are weak and shattered to unclean pieces and every morning he comes back from work wondering if you will still be in this coma or if he’ll have to dispose of your body. In retrospect, it was a mistake, but even though he thinks it over again and again he does not see any other outcome. He would never have left you there to rot. What if you weren’t doomed to die? Suicide is forbidden by law. You are suffering enough as it is, despite Joshua’s best efforts to take care of you, he cannot even imagine the tortures the officials would have given you, had they been the ones to find you.

Yet here you are, at the end of a frustrating shift and a lousy stroll. Sitting up in his bed, watching him coming back. An unmatched joy floods through his body as he comes to you, taking a good look at your conscious face. A belligerent stranger, eyes empty and circled of mauve. Clearly distressed and looking weak. Joshua thinks that you being awake is a wonder, he remembers the poor bag of raggedy bones and torn flesh you were when you arrived. When he brought you to his basement. The clothes he has given you hide most of your skin, but he knows your body looks just like your face. A battlefield of bruises and scars and a timestamp to the day you met. For weeks, he has imagined what your first words would be, were you to wake up. What you would do, what your voice would sound like. He would fall asleep to the sound of your haunting rattles next to him, praying they wouldn’t stop before his wake. Nonetheless he has outdone himself. He has brought you back to life. You look bad, but you’re looking at him and he can’ t help but smile in satisfaction. When you point your finger at him, two things hit him.

You can’t talk and you haven’t lived with him for the past week. You know nothing. You don’t know him. He feels foolish to realize it just now. He sits down by your side, filling up an another glass for you. Ponders a bit – in your place, what would be his priorities ? But you’ve thrown yourself under a car and he never has, so he has no fucking clue.

« All right then I’m Joshua. I live here, obviously. Alone. Well, not anymore, since you’ve been there for a while now – the surprise in your eyes aggrieves him. I work at a supermarket down the grand avenue. I brought you here after you… You know. Wait, do you remember what happened to you? You answer him a simple nod. Okay, then, this car hit you, and, well, I brought you back here. You forget your soar throat but he doesn’t need to hear you to read the only word on your lips.

«Well… I know, I know, we are not supposed to interfere but… His eyes roam you, looking for all the mending he has done you. His voice is only a whisper when he finishes his sentence. How could I leave you there? » You clear your throat with pain. Clearly, the water did you do good. Joshua looks up eagerly, to see what you might say first.

«Who else knows I’m here? » Your words are a cold shower. You don’t trust him one bit. He tries to reassure himself, of course you don’t, you’ve just met him.

« Only this one guy – you scoff. I’m serious! There was barely anyone that day and, the driver died, I believe. I didn’t stay to check on him. But, turns out, something else happened that day and we managed to… slip through the cracks, I guess. »

«What? What happened? » He picks his words carefully.

« Someone bombed the Blue Palace. » You remain silent at first. Eyes closed, you take a deep breathe, then another one, until you look at him again, your facial expressions are still too knew you for him to read them. So he asks you. «What? What? »

« You’re saying someone fired a bomb on the Blue Palace? Quick, the shadow of a smile crosses your face. You close your eyes once again, licking your lips as if it’ll help you collect your thoughts. A bomb. On a palace. A bomb. On the exact day I had an accident? He hums in agreement. You lay back on the wall – he hadn’t even noticed how you had bent yourself closer to him, eager for news. Who did it? »

« I don’t know. »

«Wait, you’re saying someone attacked the blues and they haven’t been caught? »

« I don’t know, that’s what I’m saying. You may have not noticed yet, he gives a brief look around him. But I have no TV here. All I know is that they haven’t made any announcement about it. But if you ask me… » He bites his lips, unsure how much he can tell you yet. You give him a short moment, expecting him to go on. You let out a sigh when he doesn’t.

« Listen, Joshua – that’s it, right? From what I see, you could be sentenced to death as much as I do. I have spent hours in the dark, waiting for someone to show up. I don’t care if you did it, I don’t care if you work for the Palace, but please give me something. I need to know. » He comes closer to you.

« I think they have no idea who did it. They’ve been on the lookout for weeks. If they knew, there is no way someone could hide from them that long. He stays quiet, letting you register the information. And I didn’t do it, I swear. »

« I’ve been there... for weeks? » There is no use in lying to you but he hears the miserable realization in your tone and his heart aches too.

« Seven, to be precise. You’ve been really sick, you know. I patched you up as good as I could, and goodness! That DK guy knows a thing or two but even he can’t put a splint on your ribs. You say nothing. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I think it’s better to tell you right now. You… Said things when you were sick, he says. You work, hm, worked for the governor. You were his maid or something. You did his groceries. I have seen you before. » He is not asking.

« That’s right. » You ignore the elephant in the room that is the question on the tip of Joshua’s tongue. Maybe it is too soon. Maybe he doesn’t need to know now. Maybe your action was self-explanatory enough, and the details don’t matter. For today, Joshua decides he won’t push you.

« Who’s that guy you mentioned? » The way you don’t miss a word he says reassures Joshua – at least your head is fine.

« DK? He’s… Well, I don’t know much about him, I give him my reports. » You frown.

« What reports? You need to make report at a grocery shop? »

« I… Joshua shifts. It is going too fast to his liking. You should take it slow, and so should he. He wished to get to know you, and to make both of your comfortable before diving into such matters. He takes a deep breathe. I… Watch the Palace. Well, no, he stutters, I, hm, well, I go for walks around the Palace. Every day. Well, I work night shifts, so, after that, I go for walks. Every morning. And, hm, once a week, more or less, someone comes to the supermarket, and if I’ve seen something interesting I tell them. Usually it’s DK but sometimes someone else comes. I asked him for help when I saw how sick you were. » You chew the inside of your lips for a while and just when you’re about to speak again you close your mouth right away. This goes on for a few minutes, until you hum in acknowledgment. The silence between the two of you is only broken when Joshua hears your stomach grumble and jumps on his feet. « You should have said something! Of course you’re hungry! » He walks the few steps separating him from the cooking area of his quarter – he decided long ago he could not give the name kitchen to it. Kitchens were warm and full of promises. This was neither, just enough to eat some tasteless soups. He swears to himself he feels you watching him as he fumbles in his cupboard. When he turns back to ask if the soup is indeed fine for you, he notices the life back on your cheeks.

You eat dinner together for the first time. It is not quite lively but it is comforting and Joshua pretends he doesn’t notice the few quiet tears on your cheeks as you savor it. You fall asleep shortly after and as usual he lies down by your side, replaying his day.

No one can ever find out about you, he realizes. Not the officials, not his contact. He is playing a wild card which could backfire in so many wrong ways. The easiest way out would be to run away from the city, but it would involve so many people just to get you out, not to mention he has no idea of what he might find there. Joshua is dubious, but even he somehow believes the Palace’s tales. Maybe it is just a desert outside. Then what? What good would it do to them, to die of ignorance on foreign lands ? How much better would it be, to make all this vain efforts, when you might as well be sentenced to a much quicker death, without the discomfort of plotting an escape? Even if it is miserable, and he has even less room that before, Joshua still finds it better to sleep in his own bed. He is good at keeping secrets anyway.

Times passes slowly.

[baekterflyeffect]

a beautiful dream / part two

Being a single father is hard. Especially when Baekhyun’s in his early thirties and needing to make a name for himself. Yet his daughter had been his greatest gift and he doesn’t mind if it means exhausting days and hardships to come — as long as he has her. Though fate works in an incredible way when he meets somebody unexpectedly.

characters: byun baekhyun x moon heejin (oc) au(s): singledad!au, lawyer!au, teacher!au genre(s): fluff, slight angst. word count: 4.5k

Heejin.

The name that have always stayed inside Baekhyun’s mind for a good few months now. They don’t make any kind of progress in terms of romantic feelings—though Baekhyun did, his adoration towards her are starting to morph into something crush like—but they stayed in contact throughout the time.

After she has taken care of Soohyun, they grow close. And both her and Soohyun grow inseparable. Sometimes, more often than not, Baekhyun didn’t ask his mom to pick up Soohyun since Heejin offered to play with her instead. Both of the girls went for so many adventures together when Baekhyun is stuck in his office and the courtroom. He was jealous, of course, he wanted to spend the day with his daughter too, and Heejin.

Heejin and Soohyun made a great pair, and most of the time, Baekhyun felt that everything was going too fast, too smoothly, and it makes Baekhyun’s insides filled with anxiety in what if anything goes south and Heejin decided not to be in his life, in Soohyun’s life? He tried to shoo the thoughts away, wanting to only focus on what is currently happening, in hope everything goes well and only the best.

Nonetheless of Baekhyun’s worry, he and Heejin still got closer. From a casual texts to an everyday texts he cannot live without, from accompanying Soohyun during days where Baekhyun can’t, to a late night talk on Baekhyun’s dining table before watching Heejin leave his apartment. From meeting up accidentally to plan out a date only with the both of them.

Things are going too smoothly, for him and Heejin, and for Heejin and Soohyun. And in half a year―Baekhyun realized that he wants Heejin to be in his life, permanently. Baekhyun knows that he grow comfortable way too fast, how can he not, when Heejin had won his daughter’s heart before she won his?

     > Run out of strawberry candies. The kids are whining, do you think you can accompany me later after work?

It was a text from Heejin. Baekhyun smiles, it was one of the rarest moments where he received a text from her and able to reply to her right away. Feeling giddiness inside of him that Heejin asked him to accompany her.

> Sure. Soohyun is with her grandparents today. Tomorrow is the weekend so she asked if she could get away from Daddy a little? > Anyway, haha, where should I pick you up?

He waited, ignoring his important documents that he needed to worry for today. He had memorized and did his research on his recent client the whole day, so it should be enough reason for him to rest a little and talk to Heejin. The three dots that indicate Heejin is typing a text finally appears, even with a little thing like that, it brought a smile to Baekhyun’s face.

> Poor daddy, his princess doesn’t want to spend the weekend with him > At what time would you be finish for today? I’m thinking about having dinner first. I have this restaurant I wanted to try

It was a casual thing. For the both of them to have dinner and spend time together, it bothered Baekhyun a little that he cannot call those as a date. He types in his reply right away―not being afraid that he might come off way too flirty. After all, the two of them have been in a flirty phase for two months without anything going on.

> I have another princess to spend the weekend with, do I not? > I’ll be done around six. Today’s an easy day, anyway. I’ll pick you up at 7. Be ready, dress comfortably!

With that, Baekhyun locked his phone. Focusing on the case he has at hand, his thoughts are filled with happiness and positivity at the fact that he will spend the rest of his evening with Heejin. He only peeked at Heejin’s replies, not wanting to distract himself further.

> That princess you’re going to spend the weekend with better be Moon Heejin or I will sneak in to your apartment and steal your all of strawberry milk so Soohyun will be upset. > K. See you. Work hard. ❤️❤️❤️

Baekhyun find himself in front of Heejin’s apartment door, smiling brightly when Heejin open her door for him.

“It's only six! What are you doing here? I am not ready yet!” Heejin huffs at him, leaving him to laugh to himself as she walked back to her room to get her makeup done. Baekhyun followed her like a lost puppy.

“My meeting finished early, so why not visit you early too? I miss your pretty face.”

Baekhyun know his flirting with Heejin is a dangerous game, but at Heejin’s whine, he just shakes his head to himself. “Stop talking at let me finish my makeup.”

“I just got here, lady. Don’t stop me from talking!”

Heejin just ignored him, focusing on her makeup so that they could leave early. She was excited for another night to spend with Baekhyun, excited to be next to him without thinking of the consequences that might come. She doesn’t realize when Baekhyun stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he nuzzled his nose to her nape, finding comfort in her scent. They have been tiptoeing around for months with their shared touches and shared kisses. Neither of it minded because they knew there's definitely something romantic going with them. After all, it has been close to eight months since they knew each other and hanging out together.

“Are you okay?” Heejin asked, her voice is so soft as she put her brush down, placing her hand on top of Baekhyun’s arm.

“I will be. Don’t worry.”

    Baekhyun find himself walking behind Heejin and Soohyun, admiring the way Heejin holds Soohyun’s hand as they walked towards one of the rides in the amusement park. Heejin was smiling really brightly as she tried her best to listen to Soohyun’s random babbling and explaining to her the things she doesn’t understand.

(The amusement park trip had been planned a few weeks ago out of random conversation with him and Heejin before Baekhyun decided to avoid Heejin - his fault, really, for thinking too much about everything.)

They arrived on the amusement park only fifteen minutes before this, and the first thing they did was to find cute headwear to use. Soohyun right away choose the one with a tiara, and Baekhyun choose for Heejin, a cute big bow to adorned her head. He himself is wearing a bunny hat, courtesy of the girls who convinced him to wear one. Baekhyun’s heart feels full, for some reason.

Baekhyun enjoyed this feeling, not having to worry about work and his clients, as well as being able to spend his time together with his princess and Heejin. For some, it might be frowned upon that Baekhyun is going out for a personal trip together with Soohyun and Heejin, as her teacher, and he might risk Heejin’s career because of that. And he understood law, he knows how wrong it is to develop a personal relation, moreover a romantic relation with his own daughter’s teacher.

That was what made Baekhyun stop in trying to woo Heejin, what stopped him from asking her to go on dinner with him without Soohyun, and also the reason why sometimes late at night, Baekhyun decides to not reply to her text. Byun Baekhyun is anything but irrational. He might have fallen in love way too soon, but he would never contradict his own life and others' lives.

Baekhyun’s thought was washed away when Heejin tucked on the hem of his sleeve shirt, smiling at him as she drags him towards the nearest cotton candy stall. She pointed out at Soohyun who keeps eyeing the maker, eyes sparkling, wanting to eat the cotton candy.

“Can she eat some, Baekhyun?”

He hums to answer her, fishing out his wallet from his pocket though Heejin beats him to it as she ordered one and pays for it right away, leaving him no room to argue with her. He smiles though, letting her do it because he knows Heejin likes to pamper Soohyun (he definitely thought about the amount of hairpins Soohyun owned now, courtesy of Heejin).

“Which ride should we go first?” Baekhyun asked Soohyun, taking her free hand in his to hold it tightly. Soohyun excitedly pointed a ride that have a spinning cup. Baekhyun nods, leading both Soohyun and Heejin there. As the three of them are queueing, Baekhyun take his time to admire the two girls that are standing in front of him, chatting animatedly.

He loves to hear Soohyun’s laughter every time Heejin told her something that is funny, though he could only smile as he watched them. The wind was blowing rather hardly all of sudden, making Heejin’s hair in sort of a mess. Unconsciously, Baekhyun reached his hand out to comb it with his fingers, feeling the softness of her strain of hair. He tried his best to keep a serious face even though the sight of Heejin blushing because of him worth a teasing―things are a little bit awkward with them because Baekhyun has been consciously avoiding her.

“There, there.” Baekhyun smiles, tucking Heejin’s hair behind her ear as he pulled his hand away. Heejin stuttered when she replied to him, “Thank you.” He nods. Giving Heejin’s head one last pat on the head before he was dragged by Soohyun to get inside one of the cups.

“Daddy! You can spin this around!” Soohyun said excitedly, trying her best to spin the wheel on the cup and Baekhyun chuckles at that, removing Soohyun’s hand with his own before wheeling the cup into a spinning motion gently - not wanting the three of them to be dizzy if he wheeled it too fast.

    The day is about to end when they watch the sun goes down. Seated on one of the restaurant as they eat their dinner. For some reason, every time the three of them go out, Soohyun will end up sitting beside Heejin instead of Baekhyun. It becomes a routine.

Despite the happy day they spent―Baekhyun knew he would have to talk with Heejin about them. And it dreads him. He doesn’t know what she feels at him, he doesn’t know what to do if she also developed feelings towards him.

For now, Baekhyun only wants to focus on Heejin's interactions with Soohyun. He won’t lie, the sight of Heejin feeding Soohyun without prompt does make his heart beat rapidly. He loves the sight of it―dreams of it lasting for more than a lifetime.

“Daddy?” Soohyun spoke, her voice soft as she gulp on her strawberry squash. Baekhyun turn to look at her, forcing a slight smile.

“Yes, princess?”

“Are you okay?” ― Soohyun is a smart kid, she is able to read people’s emotions just by their gestures. He nods at her, reaching his hand out to pinch her cheek. “Don’t worry about daddy, princess. Just finish your food!” He scolds playfully, eyeing the almost empty plate of Soohyun’s food.

The dinner goes well too, the difference in this dinner is the fact that Baekhyun barely exchanged words with Heejin, both of them only focusing on Soohyun and her cute babbles. Baekhyun is now carrying Soohyun in his arms - the little princess is tired after her activities today (she has so many energy, running around and not caring about her sweet intakes as Baekhyun and Heejin spoil her with every candy Soohyun wants).

It was comforting to Baekhyun, the way Soohyun is snuggling her face on the crook of his neck and Heejin holding on his free pinky finger, he feels like his world is complete. Baekhyun pushes away every rational thought inside his head when he chooses to intertwine his fingers with Heejin, holding her hand as if he doesn’t want her to let go.

And neither let go of each other's hold even when Baekhyun is driving home. Soohyun is fast asleep on the backseat, and the entire ride to Baekhyun’s apartment - where Heejin’s car is parked - their fingers are still intertwined and Baekhyun is placing their hands on his thigh. Sometimes caressing the back of her palm with his thumb. No words are exchanged, though.

It was Heejin who pulled away first, awkwardly saying that she will be carrying Soohyun and tucking her to her bed - they don’t want to wake up Soohyun, she could wash up in the morning, anyways - and it feels oddly domestic for Baekhyun.

After putting Soohyun to bed, Heejin decided to find Baekhyun on the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee even though he knows it was already late and if he drinks coffee, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Heejin bit her bottom lip, looking at Baekhyun’s broad back, not knowing what should she do to gain his attention. There are so many thoughts running inside her head, confusion is the biggest one.

Heejin decided to wrap her arms around Baekhyun’s torso, her face is buried on his back. Baekhyun hums in acknowledgment before he put his coffee mug down, turning to look at her, his arms palming her face before he leaned down to press a kiss on Heejin’s forehead.

“Everything okay, baby?” His voice is soft, searching her eyes with his and smiles when she looked back at him. A pout formed on her lips.

“Do you expect everything to be okay when my daddy has been avoiding me?” Baekhyun snorts at that. Heejin always calls him daddy when she wanted something from him, mainly his affection and his kisses. Their closeness has grown into something similar to a relationship, just without the labels and sexual act.

“I’m sorry. Will my big princess forgive me?” He apologized, caressing the apple of Heejin’s cheek in an affectionate manner. Heejin shakes his head at that, and Baekhyun frowned. Why doesn’t she want to forgive him?

“I will only forgive you if you gave me a proper explanation, Baekhyun. Not just you being busy.” Her voice is sharp, leaving no room for Baekhyun to find other useless explanation on why he has been avoiding her.

“You have been avoiding me for two weeks. Don’t you realize? It hurts.”

Heejin is not usually vocal with her thoughts - Baekhyun knows that. When she does, it means she really need to let it out before everything goes south. Baekhyun bit his bottom lip, he then leads Heejin to the couch on the living room, letting Heejin sit beside him as they are facing each other.

“I…”

Heejin waits for Baekhyun to start, taking his hand in hers as she squeezes it gently. Letting him know that she is here for him. Baekhyun heaved out a deep sigh. Biting his lower lip before he starts speaking.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.” Baekhyun said, he was too afraid to see Heejin’s face, he doesn’t want to hurt her - but his rational thoughts let him to do that

“Why?” He could hear the sadness in her voice, and Baekhyun really want to hug her and told her that he doesn’t actually want that.

“Heejin, you’re great. But you are Soohyun’s teacher. We can’t have a relationship when you are his teacher.”

Heejin frowned at his explanation, letting go the hold of Baekhyun’s hand and Baekhyun swears his heart stop beating. Baekhyun braved himself to look at her, and he felt like someone had just hammered him straight on his face.

“That is bullshit, Baekhyun. There is no law that you can not,” Heejin hesitated her words, thinking through it cautiously, “see your child’s teacher in a romantic way. Unless, there is really nothing romantic between us and I grow too confident that you actually developed feelings for me.” She said, anger could be heard through her voice now.

“Heejin,”

“Just-- whatever, Baekhyun. I thought we had mutual feelings - and I am ready to fight for whatever obstacles that we would face if we're together. But it's not mutual with you knowing how easily you gave up without talking to me beforehand.”

With that, Heejin left. She gathers her belonging and just leave like that. And Baekhyun doesn’t chase her.

    “Daddy? When will Teacher Moon visit us again?” Soohyun asked as she is laying her head down on Baekhyun’s bicep―enjoying the father and daughter evening. Baekhyun groaned, pretending to sleep because he doesn’t want to be reminded of Heejin.

It has been three weeks since the last time he saw Heejin, he doesn’t even text her. Even though Soohyun meets Heejin every school day, she was being sulky at the fact that Moon Teacher isn’t hanging out with her outside of school. Baekhyun doesn’t even pick up Soohyun anymore, afraid to see Heejin.

Bawkhyun himself is miserable. He missed her. He missed her warmth, missed her smile, missed her random texts of her students. But Baekhyun promised himself that he is not going to contact her―he was too ashamed of himself that he had hurt her.

And with the realization of Heejin not being together with him, Baekhyun knows he is in love with her. Pretty badly.

“Daddy!” Soohyun whined at him, pressing her palm on Baekhyun’s cheek, trying to make sure her father is awake to answer her question. Baekhyun opened his eyes with a pout. “Hyunee, that’s not good.” Soohyun mirrored his pout, now straddling Baekhyun’s chest and her little hands are squishing around Baekhyun’s face which earns a laughter from him.

“Hyunee, stop, stop!”

Soohyun stops while giggling at him, and Baekhyun smiles. Grateful to have his blob of happiness in front of him that brings a smile to him even though things are not okay.

“Now give daddy a kiss and daddy will answer you.” Her daughter just rolled her eyes and Baekhyun faked an offensive gaze at her, squinting at her. Though she just leaned down and kissed his cheek. Making herself comfortable in Baekhyun’s arms again.

“Teacher Moon is currently busy, princess. Once your holiday starts, we could hang out with her again?”

Baekhyun is thankful that her daughter is the most understanding even at a young age. Soohyun just mumbled an okay and asked Baekhyun to sing her to sleep.

Once Soohyun is asleep, Baekhyun gets with his phone in hand―calling his mother.

“Hyunee?” Was the first word his mom said when she answered the phone, he finds it cute that his mother called him with Hyunee and him calling Soohyun with Hyunee too.

Baekhyun hums to answer her, he doesn’t know what else to say. He is always open with his mother, but for some reason, this problem of his barely can leave his mouth. He heard his mother sigh, and he feels guilty for being old enough yet still seek for his mother’s comfort.

“It’s okay. I’m listening, Hyunee. You know I will never judge you.”

And with her words, Baekhyun finds himself breaking his walls down. “You know Heejin right? The girl I told you,” with that, he told his mom everything.

He told her how he felt, how much he loved her just by the months they are spending together, he could see a future together with her―at the same time, he was afraid; afraid that Heejin will leave him just like his ex, afraid that Heejin will grow tired of having to take care of Soohyun when she is able to spend her days without any serious attachments. He’s afraid to break the law, to ruin Heejin and his career. He told her how he missed her, how he had hurt her in the ways he thought he wouldn't be able to do it, but he does.

His mom listened to him carefully without saying a word, and once he’s done, she only chuckles.

“I hate that you are too rational sometimes. You haven’t even thought of her not becoming Soohyun’s teacher next year. You told me she’s only teaching first year of elementary class, right?”

With that, Baekhyun wants so smack himself so hard in the face for not realizing sooner.

His mom then continues, “Love outcomes every obstacle, Hyunee. If she loves you, then she wouldn’t leave you. And with the way I saw her treating Soohyun when I visit a few months ago, I know she loves Soohyun too. Now make your mom proud and fix your mess.”

    next >

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz #19- I’m Always Sure Of You

Otp Prompt #19: Simon insists that he’s okay with Baz’s homosexuality. So okay, in fact, that he demands that they go on a double date (Baz with Niall and Simon with Agatha). Of course, Simon is angry when Agatha seems to express interest in Niall… so he decides to flirt with Baz to make her jealous.

I know I haven’t posted in forever- I’ve just been so stressed and tired lately. This one is just five pages of fluffy filler sentences, but I don’t think it’s half bad.

“Baz, it’s fine,” I insist as he rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. I swear- here how’s this?” I take a step closer to him while setting up my proposition. “How about we go on a double date so I can show you how okay with it I am. I’m so okay with it.” I never thought Baz was gay. I mean, it would explain why he never had a girlfriend (but not how he never had a boyfriend- I would suspect that a fit bloke like him would attract every non-straight guy at Watford), but I just… I suppose I never thought about it before. But trying not to think about it after I found a pride flag in his notebook (he was showering and plotting- I was snooping) was bloody hard. 

He raises an eyebrow at me now (he knows I fucking hate it when he does that) before replying. “Snow, you don’t have to-”

I cut him off in a rush. “I know! I know I don’t have to but I want to. Agatha and I, and you and some bloke.” He thinks for a moment. (I didn’t think he’d actually consider it).

“I’d have to find a date.” He sneers at me. (But a soft sneer, if that makes sense). 

“Crowley, I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to find one…” I mutter, mostly to myself. He sighs defeatedly, and I know I’ve won. (Probably because he knows I’d never let up).

…

Agatha isn’t happy when I tell her the news. “Baz is what?!” She whispers furiously in the hall I pulled her off to. 

“Gay, Agatha. But that’s not the point. The point is that we’re going on a double date with him and a bloke this Saturday. Okay?” Her entire face falls, and I can almost hear the words that are probably pinging around in her head. ‘If Baz is gay, I don’t have a chance,’ or ‘Maybe I can convert him.’ But that’s not how it works. Because 1. She has a boyfriend, 2. Baz is our enemy, and 3. You can’t just convert someone. That’s not how it works, even if Agatha is the most beautiful girl at Watford. (If converting was possible, I’m sure Baz’d probably convert about half of the Watford boys). 

She thinks for a moment before saying, “I thought you hated Baz…” “I do,” The response is almost like an immediate reaction. Like I don’t even think about the answer before responding. It’s like the way it’s supposed to be- always has been. It’s a sure thing; like night and day. You can always count on the sun to come back up, and the moon to come out later, just as you can count on me hating Baz. “I do, but I just want to show him that I support him.”

“Why?” She crinkles her nose and furrows her brow. Why do I want to support Baz? I suppose I don’t really bloody know. 

“Well because I… well I- I don’t really know, Aggie. It just feels like the thing to do.” As she nods her head, I smile and squeeze her hand before walking away, mentally preparing myself to see Baz in class when I feel as though I know some sort of big secret that is meant only for my ears. (Even though technically he never formally told me- I had to find out by snooping).

…

Baz looks weirdly handsome in a green suit. Granted, he looks bloody handsome in anything (the tosser), but this green suit looks especially good on him. It fits him just right, snug in the correct places without showing off too much (although I suppose he does have plenty to show off, I’m sure). His hair (usually slicked back) is falling in waves around his face, framing his sharp jawline and cheekbones. (It makes his eyes look bluer; his hair, that is). He made reservations at an Italian restaurant off campus (we got special permission from The Mage to go), so everyone is dressed up kind of fancy. I felt like a blundering git when I had to ask Baz to borrow a suit. He had a grey one that fit me just fine. 

Getting ready together is kind of weird- especially since we’re going out together in a little bit. Well not together together. Just… to the same place. Usually when we get ready in the morning, we go to the same place but we leave at different times. Now, we’re wordlessly moving around each other, getting ready separately to go to the same place at the same time. Every now and then I’ll look over at Baz and he’ll say ‘Stop staring, Snow,’ so I’ll look away and blush. (I can’t help but blush. Not because I’m embarrassed or anything, but because it’s my body’s knee jerk reaction). 

I decide to break the awkward silence as we’re finishing getting ready and putting our shoes on. “So… who are you going with?” He looks at me curiously but then just sneers. 

“Niall,” He says it simply, but when seeing my eyes pop out of my head, he clarifies. “We’re not together, you bloody halfwit. Although he’s bi, he’s not my type.” He lets out a short laugh and I can’t help but wonder who actually is his type. Probably someone posh and rich and perfectly controlled. 

“So then why not go with someone you like?” I inquire. He looks at me for a moment, thinking. (Maybe plotting). 

“I am a collectible that very few can acquire, Snow,” He scoffs and stands, looking at me expectantly. “Ready?” I nod and get up to open the door for him. He simply rolls his eyes and says (voice heavy with sarcasm), “How chivalrous.” I just roll my eyes and close the door behind us. 

…

Agatha is still not in a good mood. She wasn’t in a good mood on the way to the restaurant (although she smiled when I told her how pretty she looked), and she’s not in a good mood now, sitting at our table and waiting to order. (Sidenote: I don’t like Baz and Niall together. Niall makes Baz laugh, and when Baz took his hand, Niall blushed and smiled. They probably plot my demise with each other). There’s a certain tension in the air, which I suppose is to be expected when you’re having dinner with your enemy. 

“So, um, Agatha. How’s your… family?” Niall asks politely. She smiles at him a little and lets my hand go from under the table, starting to talk animatedly with him. Baz and I stay silent as they laugh together, but I catch Baz smiling at Niall ever so slightly as he talks. My heart twists in my chest (I can’t believe Agatha is flirting with Baz’s date- I suppose now that she knows Baz is gay, she needs to find some other bloke to flirt with) (Part of me is relieved). She is so obviously flirting with him that it’s just painful to watch. 

When we finally get to ordering, Agatha is still smiling brightly with Niall, and when the server leaves, they go right back to talking. If she wants to flirt with someone’s date while she’s here with me… I suppose two can play that game. I turn my full attention to Baz and prepare myself for snarky remarks and sneers. “So Baz. What’s your… favorite violin song to play?” He looks at me like he thinks I’m joking, so I give him a look to tell him that I’m serious.

He (hesitantly) says, “‘The Last Rose of Summer I suppose…” He smiles like he’s trying not to. He likes talking about this, but he doesn’t trust me not to make fun of him. He can trust me. 

“Which is…?” I let out a little laugh with him as he goes on.

“It’s a beautiful song that took me years to learn, and…” He continues on, a spark in his eye that shows that he’s passionate about this. It’s odd to admit it, but it’s slightly endearing to hear him talk about something he loves like we’re friends. (If this is what it would be like to be friends… maybe I wouldn’t mind so much).

When he’s done talking, he goes back to closed off, but all I want to do is get him talking again. “Crowley, what’s your favorite song to listen to on the violin?” It’s probably just my imagination, but I think I see a little pink rise to his cheeks. Just enough to make me think I see it, but not enough for me to be sure if it’s real or just my imagination.

“Er, it’s um…” He stumbles over his words more than usual, which is weird. “It’s called Bite. By Troye Sivan.” I can feel myself lean slightly back in shock. I’ve heard that song before (by a gay artist- Baz is more homosexual than I ever thought) and it’s wonderful. I couldn’t help but hum it for weeks after the first time I had heard it. It’s funny to me that that’s his favorite song to hear on the violin. 

“I love that song!” I exclaim, Agatha and Niall’s conversation barely even registering in my brain anymore. 

For a second- just a second, I see Baz’s hard exterior soften as he says, “You do?” I nod my head vigorously. It seems like he’s about to say more, but our food gets to the table, promptly cutting off all conversation and making Baz go on red alert again. For that split second that he seemed open (I can’t help but be proud of the fact that I made him feel that way), he was actually enjoyable, which is odd to admit. For a moment, I didn’t want to cut his bloody head off or light him on fire. And he even seemed like he didn’t hate me. 

The table lapses back into silence for a second as we begin eating, but Agatha quickly goes back to talking with Niall. I should be paying attention to make sure no funny business is going on, but instead I can’t take my eyes off of Baz. (And not because I think he’s plotting, this time).I just let myself admire the way his eyes crinkle sometimes when he smiles at something Niall says. The way he runs his hands through his hair like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and how he doesn’t eat much on his plate, but when he does, he puts his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. (I wonder if he has an eating disorder) (I actually think his fangs pop out when he eats; his cheeks always look fuller when he’s around food). 

“So Snow, did you get the History of Magicks essay done?” Baz turns his attention to me, and I feel lighter for some reason. Ha, I want to say to Niall. (For reasons I’d rather not think about at the moment). 

“I, um-”

“Because if you didn’t, like the bloody tosser you are, I suppose I could help you and your small brain,” Even though he through in insults, I’m still taken aback by his offer. He would help me with my essay? Voluntarily? Who is this bloke and what has he done with Baz? (I suppose he’s had a few glasses of wine- maybe he’s slightly buzzed) (can vampires get buzzed?)

“I suppose… yeah, that’d be…er- nice, I suppose.” I stumble over my words more than usual (which is very very much) when I’m talking to him. Maybe if he helps me with my essay, we can have more nice moments like this. (I mentally slap myself for wanting more moments like this with my ever-plotting enemy). 

He smiles a small smile at me and goes to take another bite of his spaghetti. When I look over, I see Agatha twirling her fucking hair and laughing with Niall like he’s the worlds funniest guy. Suddenly I remember what I had wanted to do before; make her jealous. I lean forward in my chair a little towards Baz and smile sweetly at him. (It’s a first; a nice first). He just quirks that infernal eyebrow at me as he continues to chew. 

“Tell me a joke, Baz.” I smile extra brightly at him. I try to add extra sweetness into my voice, which is the polar opposite of the venom usually laced in my tone when I talk to him. 

“Okay?” He says it like a question- like he’s waiting for me to explain why I’m being weird. (Maybe because I feel kind of fuzzy right now. Maybe because I feel kind of fuzzy whenever I’m around him). “Today at the bank, an old lady told me to check her balance. So I pushed her over.” He delivers it hesitantly, but still well enough for me to chuckle out loud. I try to laugh extra hard like Agatha but it comes out as kind of forced, so Baz slightly frowns and looks down. 

“That one is actually really funny!” I try to catch his eyes, and when I finally do, I hold his gaze for a few moments. I realize now that out of all the years I’ve lived with him and all of the times that I’ve fought with him, I’ve never really looked him in the eyes. I think I was always scared about what I’d find there. Anger, disgust, disdain- complete and utter repulsion. But looking into his blue-grey eyes, I only see softness. Some hesitance; sadness, maybe. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then Baz’s soul is beautiful and soft and full of love. (Can vampires have souls?) (I think they do. Baz certainly does, at least).

When I look into his eyes, it almost seems like the rest of the restaurant fades away. Just turns into black until Baz and I are the only two people left in the room- maybe even the world. But he looks away (back to Niall) and blushes (only just barely) before I get to indulge myself in ‘getting lost in his eyes’ for much longer. When I look over, I see Agatha playfully putting her hand on Niall’s arm across the table, lingering for a second longer than she should have. (If it isn’t clear, we are probably going to fight after this dinner). 

“Looks like Wellbelove seems to want to swap dates,” Baz looks back at me and smiles a bit, adding just a small sneer to it. (It doesn’t look menacing- it just kind of looks sweet). I want to tell him that that’s okay; switching dates would be perfectly fine with me. (I don’t know why I want to tell him that. Or why I feel that way). 

Instead, I say, “Yes, I suppose…” And trail off. (He hates it when I do that). He looks at me curiously as I look back to see Agatha’s hand on Niall’s arm again. I decide to do something stupid. 

Before he can say anything, I take his wrist that’s laying on the table and lace my fingers through his. He sucks a breath in between his teeth and then lets out a shuddering breath. His hand is cold and calloused in mine, but it’s an oddly soothing feeling. I know that this isn’t affecting Agatha (she’s not even looking), but I can’t bring myself to let go. (That is now on my list of things not to think about).

“What are you doing, Snow?” He curls his lip, but doesn’t let go- even as I start rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. 

I just shrug. I know he hates it when I shrug, and now he’s pulling his hand away with an eye roll, but I grip harder and stop him. “I don’t know… I don’t know, Basilton.” I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m flirting with my enemy and holding his hand to make my girlfriend jealous when 

She is flirting with someone else

She’s not even looking 

I am not even gay

All I really know is that I don’t want to let go of his hand. I don’t know what that means, or why that is, but I just really want to keep holding on. 

All through the rest of dinner, I don’t let his hand go. He doesn’t make a move to remove it, either. Even as we eat, and as we pay for dinner, his hand stays planted firmly in mine. I know Niall has noticed- but he just looked and smirked. I don’t know if Agatha as noticed or not yet- she’s too busy flirting with Niall and hanging all over him.

When we get up to leave the restaurant, Baz finally starts pulling away, but I just wind my fingers more around his. He cocks his head at me, but gives in, letting me continue to hold his hand. Why is he letting me do this to him? Why do I want to keep doing it? I must be drunk. (I only had one glass of wine) (maybe drunk on Baz). Agatha is huddled close to Niall because she’s cold. (I don’t care). Maybe I’m a bad boyfriend. (I don’t bloody care much about that, either).

…

The walk back to rooms was uncomfortable and awkward at best. Agatha was dropped off at The Cloisters first. Before going inside, she leaned in and gave Niall a long hug, me a quick (and emotionless) peck on the cheek, and Baz a curt nod. (Baz and I didn’t stop holding hands- does that make me a bad person?) (No, it doesn’t. I don’t like Baz. I just like the way his hand feels in mine). 

After Agatha was dropped off, the walk to Mummers is quiet and slightly awkward. Baz and I are still holding hands, and Niall walks a few feet away from us. When we drop him off at his room, he nods to both of us and slips in without a word. (I swear I saw him wink at Baz- maybe I’m just tired). Baz and I hesitate for a moment before starting to walk back to our room. (Crowley, I have to share a room with him after tonight). I’m sweating in my (Baz’s) suit as we near the door. For some reason, I just don’t want Baz to let go, but I know that once we get to our room, he’ll probably pull away and spit on me, grilling me about what the fuck was that, Snow?

But when we enter our room and I start walking to my bed, letting go of Baz’s hand, I feel a sharp tug at my hand. It pulls my entire arm back and forces me to spin around and stumble forward- right into my roommates’ arms. He spins me around (again, I suppose) so that my back is against our door and he’s holding my wrists to the door and by my sides. He’s so close that I can smell the spaghetti he just had for dinner. Looking into his eyes, I feel my heart flip in a way that it never did with Agatha. Is that possible?

“What in the fuck was with the hand holding and flirting, Snow?” I assume he’s trying to sound threatening, but he just sounds breathless. I stutter, looking for an answer. 

I… I- I don’t know.” He gazes down at me, his eyes a soft contrast to the rest of his collected exterior. 

“You never know, Simon Snow,” I gasp quietly when he says my name. He’s so close our noses are touching and I can feel every single place where his cold skin sets me on fire and I want to know the taste of his lips and-

I cut my own thoughts off when I say, “I know one thing.” “And what might that be?” 

Deep breath. “I know that I want to kiss you.” The words that come out of my mouth surprise both me and him. At first he doesn’t say or do anything- just stands there staring at me. 

“Well are you going to do something about it then, Snow?” His breath tickles my cheek.

“You called me Simon before.” He scoffs.

“I did no such-” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. Cold. Soft. Wonderful. His eyes come up to cup my face and I grab fistfuls of his hair, tilting his head down to deepen the kiss. I could do this for hours. I feel free. Like that line from Baz’s favorite violin song: Kiss me on the mouth and set me free. Well Baz is doing exactly that. 

I may not know much; Normal math, elocution, why I don’t feel romantic love when I’m with Agatha and why she feels the need to flirt with others right in front of me. But if there is one thing that I am always sure of; one thing I always know…

It’s that I love Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

[domesticsns]

The Purple Turbo Tube Slide

Genre: Slice of life, Romance, Comedy, fluff

Main-pairing: SasuNaruSasu

Summary:  Naruto (33) and Sasuke (33)  go to their nephew’s birthday party. Soon Naruto goes off to play with the children while Sasuke spends some quality time with his the adults of his family. When Naruto gets a bit over his head he decides to slide down on a children's turbo tube slide and managed to get stuck half-way. Sasuke, annoyed his husband didn’t listen to his warnings, gets a surprise visit from the biggest demon he had to face during his childhood

The Purple Turbo Tube Slide, part one 

Sasuke was fixing the collar of his white shirt before fastening the buttons on the ends of his sleeve. He looked over his shoulder to the bed where he could see his husband snoring loudly while hugging the pillows on the empty bed side.

“We’re going to be late,” Sasuke said his eyes fixated on Naruto’s face that was drooling over the pillow. The man had been getting up and falling back asleep for the past two hours. He continued snoring.

“Come on,” Sasuke turned around and walked over to the bed, shaking Naruto. “We have a lot to do.”

Naruto woke up, an groaned annoyed. He grabbed Sasuke’s wrist and pulled him in the bed.

“No, you are not getting out of this.” Sasuke sat up and pushed Naruto’s hand away from him.

“Isn’t there a nicer way to wake your husband up? I’ve heard people waking up to kisses or…” A small smirk appeared on his face.

Sasuke kicked Naruto on the side, so he rolled off the bed and onto the ground. He heard a soft moan once the men hit the floor.  Sasuke leaned over the edge of the bed, looking at his idiot husband, making do with the fuzzy rug.

“I can get used to this, dattebayo..” Naruto muttered grabbing the black cat that was trying to get away and used her as a pillow to hug. Sasuke shook his head, but couldn’t supress a small smile. Naruto was adorable.

“Maybe if you were being nicer, I wouldn’t have such a hard time.”

Sasuke sighed deeply and mockingly began calling: “Sweetie, Baby, darling, Bambi, cutie pie, my one and only, sun of my moon-“

“OK-“ Naruto rolled on his back, and the black cat took her opportunity to get away an jump on the nightstand.

“The line goes, ‘Moon of my life’ and you would’ve known that if you watched HBO with me.”  Naruto sat up and rubbed his eyes before looking up at Sasuke.

“Whatever,” The Uchiha sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down on his husband. They have been married for a while now,  ever since they were twenty-eight and ran off and got eloped. Now they are thirty-three and still madly in love. It was so odd how opposite attract.

Naruto had ocean blue eyes, blond short hair, his left ear was covered in piercings, he had snake-bite piercings and another piercing in eyebrow. His right arm was covered in colourful tattoos, the colour orange sticking out the most because of the nine tailed fox on his upper arm. His stomach had some ancient sealing tattooed on it and his left arm was covered till his elbow, one of the tattoos was Sasuke’s name in hiragana. It is insane to tattoo your back then boyfriend’s name on your arm, but to be fair, he lost a bet with Sasuke and till now did not come to regret it.

Naruto was a nice person, pure hearted and good to the bones. He was friendly, helped everybody he could. He was kind and easy to talk to. He could even befriend the worst person on the earth and even they would end up caring about him.

Sasuke was the opposite of this. He had dark eyes that almost appeared to be black, his hair was midnight blue and his skin didn’t have any art on it or metal in it.  He was cold and always saw the worst in people.

He leaned in and kissed Naruto’s forehead. Naruto smiled at this. They’ve been married for five years and yet every small bit of soft affection from Sasuke made his heart pound like a pre-teen madly in love.

“Fine, fine I’ll hit the shower.” Naruto said, getting up from the floor. “But I’ll get to choose the music on our way to Madara.”

“Fine,” Sasuke agreed “You know what you are going to wear?”

“Uhm...My orange sweater.” Naruto looked over at Sasuke, seeing his expression change ever so slightly.

“I guess…Just jeans with a shirt-“

Sasuke’s face did it again.

“….I go naked?” Naruto raised a questionable eyebrow.

Sasuke’s face did it a third time

“Uhm….What am I going to wear?” Naruto asked feeling the pressure of judgement on his shoulders.

“Well, I guess if you want me to choose what you wear today. I guess I can take a minute to think about it.”

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t been thinking about what I should be wearing all night.”

“Nonsense.” Sasuke said, and it sounded almost believable if it wasn’t for that slight twitch of his lip that formed a minor smirk.

Naruto shook his head.

“The first then minutes I was thinking about what I was going to wear.” Sasuke said.

Naruto gave his husband a small smile and headed to the bathroom where he proceeded to get ready for the day.  He felt a bit hesitant because although he loved Sasuke and his family very much, his family had the tendency to be extremely…Savage. Naruto wasn’t sure if it was normal. He was an orphan ever since he could remember. He did not have any siblings, cousins, uncles or aunts. He didn’t know what was appropriate and what was normal. Sasuke was really close with his family. Ever since his mother died and his father wanted nothing to do with him. His brother and three cousins were always there for him. They were very important to Sasuke and so they were important to Naruto too. He sighed as he pulled on the clothes Sasuke had picked out for him and headed to the kitchen.

“How old is Obito now anyway?” Sasuke asked, he was sitting down on the bar table, apparently texting his brother.

“Turning eleven, I believe.” Naruto said, grabbing something to eat.  Sasuke looked up from his phone to his husband and seemed generally pleased.

“You look handsome,” Sasuke commented, leaning over the bar table. Naruto smiled and leaned in to kiss Sasuke.

“What should we get him?” Naruto asked, “I was thinking-“

“A hunting knife.” Sasuke said absent minded as he read a message Itachi send him.

“He is eleven…” Naruto said, leaning on the table and giving his husband a questionable look.

“Yeah he could have some practice before he turns thirteen and Madara drops him off in the forest for a week to fend for himself.”

Naruto’s expression changed to one of horror before he could see Sasuke look up and give him a soft small smile.

“Joking.” He said before putting his phone down.

“What were you thinking?” Sasuke asked, giving his full attention to Naruto now.

“Video game. It is a bit expensive…And we would probably have to get two…” Naruto had a small grin on his face seeing Sasuke look slightly confused, “Because I kind of want to have the same game.”

“But it isn’t your birthday.” Sasuke said.

“But it will be in like eight months!” Naruto laughed, “I am an adult, I am going to get that game.”

“Sure,” Sasuke said, “then use your own credit cards except of your joined debit card.”

“Boy, when the Korean Elvis married us, you knew what you were getting into.” Naruto laughed, “A public school art teacher who is seriously underpaid.”

“But did you finish that other game that was almost sixty bucks?” Sasuke asked, folding his arms. “I thought we made a promise that you will have to finish a game before you buy another.”

Naruto raised an eyebrow and put his glass of apple juice down before walking towards the bookshelf and grabbed a book turning to Sasuke.

“Did you finish this?” He asked.

Sasuke eyed the book before looking Naruto straight in the eye.

“Yes.” He lied almost convincingly.

“How did it end?” Naruto asked.

“….They got married.” Sasuke remained his straight face.

“Did they though?” Naruto opened the book and looked at the last page. “No, they all die.” Naruto said, pushing the book back on the shelf hearing Sasuke whisper: “Spoilers much…”

He grabbed another book and held it up.

“So you haven’t finish that book and yet…These three books appeared out of nowhere on the shelf.”

“Yeah it is crazy how books just….Appear….” Sasuke sighed looking at Naruto giving him a ‘are you kidding me’ expression, “Alright buy the game.” Sasuke gave in.

They headed To the store to get the gift and headed towards Madara that was a two hour drive to his house in the suburbs. Madara was a men that was very well off. His house had five bedrooms and a huge garden. It was only him and his two sons, Obito and Tobi. His wife and him got divorced three years ago, but they remain on good terms. They went around the back and walked inside the garden. There was a swing set where Itachi was pushing his daughter, Naori. And Shisui was pushing his daughter, Mirai. The girls were laughing and shouting to go higher and higher. Up on the tree house Tobi and Obito, chasing one another.

“UNCLE SASUKE!” Obito shouted from on top of his longs. He slid down the purple turbo tube slide . He ran up to Sasuke and wrapped his arms around the men’s waist and hugged him tightly.

“Happy birthday,” Sasuke patting the boy’s head.

“I’m so glad you came!” The boy said excitedly.

“We got you something very good,” Naruto said, handing Obito the present. “It is actually PG 13,” Naruto whispered.

“Presents after dinner!” Madara shouted from the BBQ grill. He was wearing an apron saying  ‘kiss the cook’. Obito had a pouting expression on his face.

“Uncle Naruto!” Naori and Mirai ran from the swing to Naruto and jumped at him. Tobi wrapped his arms around Naruto’s left arm and Mirai on his right one. Naori hugged his leg as she was just tall enough to reach Naruto’s thigh.

“I drew a cat. You wanna see. You wanna see!” Naori grabbed Naruto’s free arm.

“I drew a dog!” Tobi exclaimed.

“I drew unicorn!” Mirai added.

“Naori, Tobi, Mirai let your uncle Naruto first have a drink first, alright.” Itachi told his daughter and nephew. They both looked sad for a moment and so did Naruto. He looked over at Sasuke.

“Oh just go. Stay hydrated” He said, causing all four to smile again and run inside.

Itachi sighed and looked at his younger brother.

“How have you been, little brother.” He let his hand run down Sasuke’s hair, fixing it slightly on the sides.

“I am thirty-three, can you stop calling me little,” Sasuke said slightly annoyed as he tried pushing his brother’s hand away.

“You could be eighty-two and I still see that little boy running after me and begging me to play with him.” He laughed seeing Sasuke’s slightly embarrassed face.

“Oh remember when he was a baby and kept crawling towards you. Adorable!” Shisui tried to pinch Sasuke’s cheek, but Sasuke had no problem to slap his hand away as soon as it approached him.

“Don’t Shisui, you know he’s a cop now.” Itachi chuckled.

“I’m a detective.” Sasuke corrected his brother, but his words went unnoticed.

They walked up to the patio where the other members of the Uchiha-family were.

“Sasuke, I’m so happy to see you.” Izumi, Itachi’s wife, said as she got up from the chair and gave Sasuke a big hug. She has known him for almost twelve year and still managed to be oblivious to the fact that Sasuke did not like people inside his personal space. He decided to let it slide, yet another time, she did gave birth to his niece after-all. Kurenai, Shisui’s wife, did respect his personal space and greeted him with a simple nod.

“Oh the handsome Uchiha came too,” Mei, Madara’s ex-wife, walked outside, holding two cold beers in her hand. “I’m glad seeing you here again,” she said handing him a cold one and proceeded to smack his ass before sitting down between Kurenai and Izumi. Sasuke had an annoyed expression on his face, glaring at her. She smirked, taking a sip from her beer before putting her hands up and saying, “arrest me officer!”

The awkward tension was shrinking when Madara called for Sasuke: “ Hey Sasgay! Hey Sasgay!” he sniggered at his joke before pointed at the sausage on the grill.

“You want the sausage!” He laughed like he was the villain of a Disney movie.

“I would Maddy but you don’t seem to have it.” Sasuke said, causing Shisui, Kurenai and Izumi to laugh while Itachi tried to hold back his smile.

“Confirmed, it ain’t impressive!” Mei said loudly, “you would think with that bush of untamed hair you would have a-“

Mei was interrupted by the sound of something falling and breaking inside the house followed by Naruto’s voice shouting: “EVERYTHING IS FINE! NOTHING IS BROKEN!”

“I swear to God if that is my mother’s ashes…”

“I be damn happy the ugly urn is out of my house.” Mei finished Madara’s sentence for him. They shared a look and a grin. Even though they were divorced they were great co-parents with the occasional booty call. How they worked…It was a mystery to almost everybody present.

“Nah seems to be the Chinese vase they broke,” Sasuke said looking through the window.

“I thought the purpose of an adult watching over the kids was so they would not break anything.” Kurenai stated.

“Naruto is a slightly taller child,” Mei chuckled “By now you should know that.” She turned her gaze back at Sasuke, her eyes were looking at him like he was some sort of not so secret sexual desire of hers.

“I don’t understand, how are you gay?” Mei said, “I get if you are an ass kind of men, but women have asshole’s too.” She raised an eyebrow.  “We’ve all done butt-stuff, right ladies!” she looked at Kurenai and Izumi that looked away, not willing to participate in the conversation. The awkward tension was back.

“Fine,” Mei sighed, a bored look took over, “But then why not a rich sugar daddy why a mere professor?”  

“Professor?”  Sasuke frowned slightly, “He teaches public school.”

“Oh, poor soul.” Madara said. “You know, I have a pretty good divorce lawyer…And he is also very into ass.”

“I get why you two were married…”Sasuke muttered and shook his head at Madara before looking back at Shisui.

“When is Izuna going to be here?” He asked.

“He said he was stuck in traffic-“

“That’s code for not having left the building yet,” Sasuke said, rolling his eyes.

Maybe if Izuna got here he could take some of the heat off Sasuke. Izuna was quite the hot mess of the family. He would have been able to swift the conversation away from Sasuke.

Sasuke took a sip from his beer before looking at the cool box and pushing it away from the door opening to the side. It caused most of the others to give him a slightly odd look, but soon their questions were answered when Obito, Mirai, Tobi and Naori ran from the back door in the garden, all four not looking in front of them as they rushed towards the tree house. Naruto ran outside getting a strange looks from his in-laws.

“…We’re playing a game….” He said.

“Naruto, you don’t have to look after the children. They’ll be fine as long as they are in our view.” Izumi said, “sit down, you want a beer?”

Naruto’s expression stiffened and Sasuke had a small smile on his face.

“Yeah…I would do that but…You know…We’re playing tag and you know…I am ‘it’ so…..” Naruto slowly walked away before sprinting off.

“He would make a great father, don’t you think?” Kurenai stated, getting an agreeing nods from Itachi and Shisui.

“Speaking of children-“

Sasuke rolled his eyes, he couldn’t believe how un-smooth they managed to swift the conversation to yet another sensitive topic.

“I don’t think so-“ Sasuke was quickly interrupted by Mei

“I would be honoured to be like your surrogate.” Mei said and for a moment Itachi looked very weirded out. He gave his brother a quick look and shook his head.

“No…” Sasuke said.

“Adoption is great too.” Shisui said. “We’re actually talking about adopting a second child.”

“Why you have good swimmers yourself, don’t you?” Madara commented.

“It is not about being fertile-“

“We’re bored already,” Madara added.

The door bell rung and Madara looked annoyed.

“it is probably Izuna,” Itachi said, “forgot to use the back door as stated in the evite.”

Madara walked back inside the house as Sasuke looked at the tree house where he could see Mirai, Naori and Obito ,Naruto and Tobi.  He headed towards it.

Sasuke didn’t know how he got the ability to sense something going wrong before it happened, but he knew he become like this after Naruto and he moved in together.

“Hey Naruto,” he called out. Not a moment later his husband looked down.  “I don’t think the tree house was built for more than two children-“

“Looks pretty steady to me.” right as he said that Mirai screamed at the sight of a spider and bumped right onto Obito that fell over the wooden window. Obito screamed but was saved by Sasuke  who caught him in his arms. Obito stopped screaming and wrapped his arms around sasuke hugging him tightly.

“I’m so sorry!” Mirai shouted.

“Enough, everybody out of the tree house. That includes you Naruto.” Sasuke said with a strict voice. He was just happy no other adult has seen Obito fall down or else he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Owh men…” Naruto turned his head to Mirai, “you ruined it for all of us.”

“Thanks uncle Naruto…” You could see the slight annoyance on her face.

“Can I go from the turbo tube slide !” Naruto shouted as the children climbed down the ladder.

“It is designed for children, not grown men.” Sasuke said.

“I bet I fit in there…” Naruto said eyeing the turbo tube slide  before diving head first in it. Sasuke could hear Naruto get stuck at the turn of the tube slide.

Sasuke put Obito on the ground, the boy was shaking.

“Get over yourself, you aren’t hurt.” Sasuke said harshly before walking to the end of the turbo tube slide .

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” He asked squatting down at the end of the turbo tube slide .

“No….” He could hear Naruto’s voice echo. He couldn’t see him, it was too dark inside the purple tube.

“I told you not to. Do I need to call the fire department….Again?” he sighed. He really didn’t want to explain for a second time to the firefighters that Naruto was his husband, a thirty-three year old men and mentally not behind in a…Diagnosable way.

“No! I can totally get out of here!” Naruto shouted back. Sasuke shook his head while feeling somebody tap his shoulder. He didn’t want to hear any of his family’s mockery so he pushed the hand away without looking behind him.

“Not now, I’m busy because an idiotic moron got himself stuck inside a children’s turbo tube slide ! AND NEVER LISTENED TO ME!” Sasuke shouted the last part right inside the tube slide so Naruto could hear it echo.  

“I’m sorry….” He could hear a slight mumble coming back.

Sasuke rolled his eyes and sighed deeply before turning around, expecting to see his brother, but the moment he did. His heart stopped beating and his body stiffened. His expression changed from annoyed to ultimately shocked.

Standing right in front of him was Fugaku Uchiha, his father, who he hadn’t seen or spoken to in ten years. The men who had belittled him, crushed him and abandoned him. The man that made every bit of love, happiness and light disappear from Sasuke’s life for the longest time.

Sasuke quickly looked in the corner of his eyes where he could see Madara, Itachi, Shisui and Izuna stand there staring at the situation speechlessly. Mei, Izumi and Kurenai looked confused. He felt like a weak hopeless child again.

“Hey! I can crawl! ” Naruto’s voice came from the slide, waking Sasuke’s up. He realised he was no longer a child he was an adult and he was a respected detective, he was married and had two cats. Yet his husband is stuck in a purple turbo tube slide for a second time in his life.

“Father…” Sasuke spoke softly.

“You look just like your mother.”

“That is not much of a compliment for an adult men.”

“It wasn’t meant as one. It’s an observation.”

“Very well.”  Sasuke lowered his eyes, even when he tried to remind himself he was an adult his father did manage to get the upper hand and make him feel worthless.

“I see you got married” He indicated to the ring on Sasuke’s finger.

Just before Fugaku could say something else, he could hear a scream coming form the tube slide. Naruto slit out of the slide, head first, and landed on the ground. He groaned when his back hit the grass and looked up at the sky seeing his husband’s face giving him a concerned look and a grumpy old men giving him the most disgusted look he had ever seen somebody give him.

Naruto set up, rubbed the back of his head before standing up. From the conversation he heard from inside the tube slide, he wished he could have stayed stuck there for a little longer.  

“Uhm…Hey…I’m Naruto….” Naruto said, getting up and extending his hand to Fugaku, he looked down at Naruto’s left hand, seeing a wedding ring, before looking at the extended hand in front of him.

He remained quiet.

  TO BE CONTINUED

[theunluckiestchat]

Remembrance 5

AO3 link Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Summary:  Dinner date with a lot of blushing.

CHAPTER 4

Marinette was frantically digging through her all her jewelry and sock drawer at the same time while Alya watched her with an amused smile.

“No this necklace doesn’t match the earrings and the earrings are totally the wrong color for this dress so maybe I should take the necklace anyway? Do I need stockings? No, it’s summer, of course I don’t! But maybe it’ll get cold when the sun goes down, are we even going to be out that long? What if he gets bored with me and goes home early? But what if he wants to take a walk afterwards? I’m not prepared for this! Alyaaaaa help meeeee”

Alya laughed. “Did fourteen-year-old Marinette somehow take the place of twenty-one-year-old Marinette?” she asked and walked over to Marinette, putting her hands on her friend’s shoulders and turning her towards her. “Mari, you look great and he’s not going to get bored of you” she said and then picked up a pair of simple, silver earrings. “These go perfectly with your dress and you don’t need stockings because, yes, it is summer and it’s hot outside”

Marinette nodded slightly and grabbed the earrings. She really didn’t know what happened to her. Adrien asked her out and suddenly it was like she was fourteen again, like Alya said. It was as if the confidence she had gained as she got older went out the window and she was a nervous wreck. But she knew Adrien and she knew that he wouldn’t have asked her out if he didn’t like her. There was no need for her to be this nervous.

After a few minutes of calming herself down with the help of Alya and putting the finishing touches to her outfit, she finally felt like she could breathe again.

“I can’t believe it took him so long to ask you” Alya said and took a sip of her tea. “He’s obviously liked you for a long time”

“He’s had a hard time since his dad… you know” Marinette looked away. For some reason she almost felt guilty for what had happened with Adrien’s father, even though she knew that she had nothing to do with it. “It’s not strange that he needed time to get over it”

“I guess” Alya responded and was about to say something more when the doorbell rang.

The girls looked at each other and Marinette could feel her heart picking up speed and her hands shaking. Alya had to practically drag her out of her seat and over to the door. She took a deep breath before opening the door and seeing Adrien.

He was dressed slightly fancier than usual and his hair was combed in a different way, similar to when he was younger and more time was put into his appearance. In his hand was a small bouquet of roses that matched to color of his flushed face.

“Hi” he squeaked out and Marinette could have laughed if she wasn’t just as incapable of speech at the moment.

“Hello” she squeaked back, almost hearing Alya roll her eyes behind her.

For a short moment they both just stared at each other before Adrien remembered the flowers in his hand and held them out to Marinette who wordlessly took them, all too aware of how red her face was right now.

“You look great” Adrien said, the red of his face matching hers perfectly.

“Thank you” Marinette replied and then they went back to quietly staring at each other.

They were lucky Alya was there.

“Ooookay, so I’ll take those” she said and grabbed the flowers. “And you two, go!” she pushed Marinette towards Adrien and made sure she grabbed his arm.  

“Let’s go then” Adrien said and tried to pull off a charming smile.

Marinette was actually very happy that she wasn’t the only one of them to be so nervous, even though she’d never really imagined that Adrien could get like this. She supposed it was kind of flattering that she was the reason for him being so flustered. It also gave her some more confidence.

“Let’s” she agreed and they started walking down the hallway.

“Be careful, kids!” Alya called from behind them and Marinette decided to glare at her while Adrien just laughed. “Don’t be out too late!” she continued, clearly thinking she was very funny.

“We won’t!” Adrien called back, also thinking she was very funny while Marinette just groaned.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

Marinette shook her head at her friends antics and pushed Adrien in front of her to get him down the stairs before they could continue.

“Bye Alya!”

She heard her friend laugh and close the door as she followed Adrien. He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, all traces of the highly amused expression he had while joking with Alya gone. Instead the nervousness seemed to have returned, along with the blush. Which, of course, made Marinette remember that the two of them were going on an actual, real date.

She giggled nervously.

“You really do look great” Adrien said as he held the door open for her.

Marinette blushed fiercely

“So do you” she tried her hardest to keep her voice sounding normal but it still ended up more high pitched than usual.

Adrien just smiled and led her to the taxi parked outside the building. The ride wasn’t very long and they would probably have been fine walking but seeing as she was wearing heels Marinette was grateful. What she really didn’t like was how they barely said a word to each other the entire ride. Going on a date with Adrien had been a dream ever since they first met when they were fourteen, now that it was finally happening, she shouldn’t ruin it by being awkward! She hadn’t had trouble talking around him for so many years, in fact he was one of the people she found it easiest to talk to. But actually being on a date was a whole new situation, and it seemed like neither of them really knew how to navigate it.

Adrien turned to her and opened his mouth and - oh finally - they were going to start a conversation when the car stopped, indicating that they were at their destination. They stepped out of the car, Adrien looking a little sheepish as he did so, and crossed the street to get to the restaurant that they had a reservation at. He had picked it so Marinette knew practically nothing except that it was not way too fancy and it had good food, so when she finally read the name of it she couldn’t help but snort.

“Really? You chose a restaurant with a pun for a name?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

Adrien grinned back. “That’s how you know it’s good quality!” he said. “And the food and service are good, I suppose. But the pun is very important” he did a faked serious nod and Marinette burst out laughing. She had always loved Adrien’s humor.  

By the time they were seated at their table however, the awkwardness was back at full force. They had a rather stilted conversation about what food they wanted to eat before ordering. By the time their beverages arrived they still hadn’t made much progress.

Marinette was sipping on her water trying to cool down her blush when Adrien slumped in his chair and sighed loudly.

“Why am I so nervous? I’m always comfortable around you!” he said with a groan and Marinette put down her glass.

“First dates are always weird” she tried to reason, even though she was asking herself the same thing.

“What do you even do on a first date?” there was a slight frustration in his voice even though he said it in a joking manner.

“I guess you usually try to get to know each other” Marinette was very well aware of how uncertain she sounded.

Adrien hummed and nodded, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. Then perked up, leaned forward of the table and looked at her intensely.

“So, Marinette, have you always wanted to be a fashion designer?” he asked and Marinette immediately grinned, joining the game.

“Oh, yes, ever since I was a little girl” she said pursing her lips in fake seriousness. “What about you, Adrien. Was becoming a teacher your childhood dream?”

Adrien leaned back in his chair again. “No, no. I always dreamed of becoming a dinosaur” he said, his eyes gleaming with delight while he kept up his acting.

“Mm, very interesting” Marinette said, silently wondering if it was true and finding it adorable.

“Yes, it was big passion for me. But alas, it is impossible” he placed one hand on his heart and wiped away a fake tear with the other as Marinette gasped.

“Don’t say that, nothing is impossible! You must follow your dreams!” she exclaimed rather dramatically.

The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then burst out laughing. They laughed for maybe a bit too long and only composed themselves when their food arrived.

From there conversation flowed easily. They just needed a bit of ridiculousness to break the dam. They talked about everything between heaven and earth, from classes to best picnic spot in Paris to if the Gorilla ever actually used words. And seeing as they were on a date and it was confirmed that they did both like each other, some flirting and compliments were peppered into the conversations.  

Marinette was over the moon. So much so that she chose to ignore the slight tickling in the back of her brain that appeared when Adrien said some things and when he made certain expressions. It was as if it was urging her to remember something. The same thing had happened at Adrien’s homecoming party when they were on the roof and looking over Paris. She knew the feeling was connected to her accident and her missing memories, it had appeared at random times throughout the years but had never really led to anything. Which is why she had started ignoring it most of the time. She couldn’t focus on it when she had such a wonderful date.

But she wasn’t the only one who seemed bothered about something. She could notice Adrien getting a faraway look or frown at times during their conversations. This wasn’t anything new, it was a common occurrence ever since the whole thing with his father went down, everyone had noticed it. It was as if some certain things reminded him of something, though they could never figure out what exactly and he would never tell them. Nino thought it had to do with his father but Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if it was related to The Girl. He had talked a little about how he felt about his father after all, but he had never said anything about the girl except that she existed. It made Marinette wonder if he was really over her, if he really was ready for this date and starting something with her or if he’d rather be with his mystery girl.

“I…” Adrien said, slight blush on his cheeks as he looked at her. “I’m so happy I asked you out tonight. I really like you, Marinette”

And his smile was so soft, his eyes so fond and his voice so sincere. All her previous thoughts were forgotten. She believed him.

“I really like you too” she answered with a fond smile of her own.

————————-

They ended up not leaving the restaurant until the sun was hanging low on the sky. They walked slowly towards Marinette’s apartment with their interlocked hands swinging between them. She had even surprised herself when she in a moment of bravery grabbed his hand, but she also figured that she had waited long enough to hold Adrien’s hand. Luckily, he didn’t object.

“So, did you really want to be a dinosaur when you little?” she asked after he finished up a rant about how some new movie adaption of a book he liked got all the characters wrong.

He chuckled a little before answering. “Yeah, I did. I think it’s because of The Land Before Time” he said.

“Oh, well that makes sense. Those leaves looked really tasty” Marinette answered with her own giggle.

“I know, right! I even had this dinosaur costume that I would wear all the time”

Marinette almost squealed, but managed to keep it down. “That is so adorable!” she said instead.

Adrien grinned. “Thank you. I was a really adorable Apatosaurus now that I think about it”

“Apatosaurus?”

“Long neck in the movie. I was really into it”

Marinette snorted at that.

“Yeah, I was really crushed when father told me that you couldn’t become another species” he said and seemed to try to stay lighthearted but as soon as he uttered the word father his smile turned bitter.

Marinette hated seeing him like that but also didn’t know what to say, so she just squeezed his hand in silent support. It seemed to snap him back and as soon as he looked at her his smile became real again.

“It was okay though, I found a new passion pretty fast” he said, all happy again.

“Oh yeah? What was it?” Marinette asked and raised her eyebrow.

“I decided that I would become a knight who saved damsels in distress. That’s why I started fencing”

The idea of a little Adrien running around in a dinosaur costume had been adorable but it couldn’t top the picture of little Adrien with a toy sword wanting to be a hero and save people that popped into her mind. Marinette supposed that Adrien must have always been cute, at any age and no matter what he did.

“Well, then I know who to call if I’m ever in a ‘damsel in distress’ situation” she teased him, although her giggling might have ruined it.

Adrien pulled his hand away from hers to do an exaggerated bow. “I’ll be your knight anytime, princess”

The tickling turned into pounding. There was something so familiar with those words, as if she had been told something like that before. This was stronger than any other time it had happened. Like there was a memory right at the tip of her brain trying to break through but not quite making it. It was a strange feeling and if it was any other situation, she might have curled into herself and tried to force it out. But right now, Adrien was in front of her being goofy and sweet and she didn’t want to think about anything other than that.

“Why thank you” she said and curtsied as a response.

They continued their walk and she did all she could to push the feeling away. She focused on Adrien’s voice as he talked and managed to almost forget about it.

It wasn’t long before they reached her building, stopping in front of it to say goodbye for the evening. At this point the sun was gone and stars had started to show up above them.

“I had a really great time tonight” he said with a slightly lopsided smile and wow, had he ever been more attractive?

“So, did I” Marinette replied and leaned up to softly kiss his cheek. “Thank you”

She looked into his eyes trying to ignore how his cheeks had gone red, just like she knew hers had as well. She was starting to lean back again, happy with her accomplishment of a cheek kiss, when his hand found its way to her neck and he pulled her back and leaned closer himself. He gave her every chance to pull away and break it up but, dammit, this was gonna happen.

She pressed her lips against his, trying to not seem as desperate for this as she was. He responded immediately and deepened the kiss. It was slightly sloppy but it was so real and it made her entire body vibrate. The feeling of kissing Adrien was so new and exciting and familiar. It felt like coming home. She decided that it was her new favorite thing.

They broke apart rather quickly because it was late and they were tired and also out on the street. But Marinette knew that this would be something that would happen a lot after this. She could feel it in herself and see it in his expression.

She smiled.

“Goodnight”

And opened the door to her building and slipped in. She could just catch Adrien’s happy and lovesick grin before the door closed and she made her way to her apartment, feeling like she was walking on clouds and all thoughts of forgotten memories gone.

[opheliamay]

short story about 2 of my OCs, lex and genny, for a wip. best friends and star-watching and desert nights and repressed feelings :(

It is the day Genny turns 15, and the late summer sunset is so eye-scorchingly beautiful that Lex can feel happiness tingling between her toes. The sky explodes with rich oranges and violets and dark blues, and she smells the heat fresh off the rolling sand, the dusty, feverish scent of giddy bike rides and long-limbed races through the desert. Dead gnats the size of pinpricks stick to her sweat-slick skin, which should normally upset her, but the world is lying cracked open at her feet today and there is nothing that could ruin it. 

In one month, Genny will start dating Lex’s brother Roman, and everything will change. But none of them know this yet. Today, tonight, it is just Genny and Lex, Lex and Genny, as it has always been, the two of them infinite as the sprawling sand.   

Lex hovers at Genny’s unpaved driveway, half-on her bike, half-off. Just in time, Genny’s head appears from the side of her white house, and then her tanned legs in short shorts, and her bike swerves so recklessly down the concrete that when she brakes, pebbles fly everywhere. The reddening sun glints off her golden brown hair.   

“Are you ready?” Genny asks. She’s carrying a long, skinny black bag on her back, at least three feet wide horizontally across her shoulders, and she has a red backpack in her lap. When she smiles, teeth flashing, Lex thinks that she is the type of person specially designed by God to exist in the sunlight. 

It makes Lex angry, though if you’d asked her why, she wouldn’t be able to articulate it. She shoves Genny hard—a single, accurately aimed shove between the collarbone and the shoulder—and Genny crashes off her bike onto the sidewalk with a righteous shriek. Lex is flying away on her own bike before Genny can get up. “That’s for being late, birthday girl!” Lex yells over her shoulder. “I get the fucking head start!” 

She spins her feet on the pedals with stone-serious conviction. Behind her, Genny shouts something indignant and scrambles to get back on her bike. Lex is serious, practical, and ruthless in all circumstances, especially in games. She wants Genny to catch up—she knows she will—but Lex is not a person who slows down for others, even when she’s started the game unfairly. 

Soon enough, Genny’s bike nears Lex’s, and they race through the neighborhood. If people were to look out their houses, all they'd see would be two heads of streaming hair—Lex’s is all long, tangled black curls and Gen’s is pale brown, cropped short to her shoulders but a wild mess. White houses pass them in painted blurs. 

The two of them shout vicious profanities at each other, back and forth in rhythm like tennis balls bouncing between rackets. As the houses end, though, and the endless desert begins, the shouts change into open-mouthed laughs that burst uninvited from their chests. GennyandLex, LexandGenny. 

Gradually, laughter drifts into happy silence. They ride for what must be twenty or thirty minutes, deep into the desert. The sun sets deeper and deeper into the horizon, clouds streaking with red-orange, then blue, then black. 

Eventually, they both roll to a stop at the same time. The sky is a vivid blue near the horizon, but all above them is black. There is no verbal agreement about when to stop, no real markers to signal the end of their path—just palm tree yuccas and cacti—but they know how to read each other even in the dark. Lex can see the barest lift of Genny’s shoulders, the twist of Genny’s mouth, and it is clear as day that she is about to stop.   

They abandon their bikes on the sand. Before Lex can move, Genny jumps her, throwing her arms around Lex’s shoulders in a hug that is slightly violent but fully affectionate. Lex hugs her back, shakily, her nose full of the smell of Genny’s wildflower-shampoo. Lex doesn’t usually let herself be hugged, but Genny is always an exception. The only exception. “Happy birthday,” Lex says. 

Genny lets go, grinning. “Thank God you called me when you did,” she says, words mashing rapidly together in an unbroken string. It reminds Lex of the part of the alphabet song that goes l-m-n-o-p. “I was getting so stir-crazy. I was about to blow my shit. If I had to hear my mom start crying one more time today—she’s all like, My baby is growing up and becoming a woman, blah blah—I was gonna throw my tampons against the wall and remind her that she’s been saying that ever since I got my first freaking period. Anyway, how are you?” 

Lex opens her mouth, but Genny keeps going, “Also, wait, that was a real shitty move back there, pushing me off my bike. Look what you did to me”—she waves emphatically at her knee, which is now scraped bloody—“you freaking psycho.” 

Lex shoulders off her backpack and pulls out a box of band-aids. She holds it out as a peace offering, which Genny snatches. “It was payback for last week when you pushed me out of my dad’s truck bed.” And then, because the scrape is small, “I’m not sorry." 

“It’s not like the truck was moving.” Genny collapses on the ground in a stubborn heap, sand flying up around her. Her face is awash with the faded blue of the sunset. She throws her black bag from her shoulders—it clatters when it hits the ground—and folds her legs up. After tearing open a band-aid with her teeth, she tosses the box carelessly to the side. “God, I hate my calves. Look at them. Are they fatter than they were last week?”   

The past few months, Genny has been obsessively picking apart her body, something she never used to do. Lex hates it so much sometimes her vision goes white. “Your calves are perfect. Do you need disinfectant for the scrape?” 

“Nah. I’ll live.” Genny shifts her leg, observing her knee with an exaggerated care intended to make Lex guilty. “I think my calves are fatter.” Then, "How’s Roman?” 

“Fucking annoying,” says Lex, and she feels the familiar rush of envy that comes whenever she talks about her brother. She doesn’t want to say anything else about him, and Genny knows it. 

“Did he say anything about my birthday?” Genny asks, avoiding her gaze. 

“No,” Lex says, crueler than she should. She looks out at the horizon, shielding her eyes. “You know he only cares about himself. He doesn’t care if it’s your birthday." 

It’s a lie. She thinks of Roman this morning, blue-eyed and lazy and leaning insolently against the dining table. You’re meeting Gen today, right? Tell her I said happy birthday. He’d said it arrogantly, like it was an honor that he’d even deigned to remember. If Lex were a better person, she would’ve told the truth, but she’s not. She wants Genny to herself today. 

Genny scowls. “I was just asking. Jesus.” 

Lex sighs harshly through her nostrils. She doesn’t like the hurt look on Genny’s face. “And your calves actually are perfect.”  

Genny dismisses this with a wave. “Whatever,” she says, though it’s clear she’s pleased. She finally pats the band-aid down with a cheerful slap and then looks up, eyes wide and face brighter than the sky. “So. Are you ready?” 

Lex grins, wild, feral, happy. 

The two of them zip open Genny’s bag. The telescope is inside, old and scratched-up but (from what they can see in the dark) otherwise in decent shape. Together they reassemble it, pulling the tripod legs to their full length and snapping them outward, adjusting the lens. 

By the time they’re done, the full night has settled on them like a heavy, gentle blanket. It’s a new moon tonight. Far away, only the smallest points of light from town suggest the direction they’ve come from. They can barely see each other anymore—all they are are shadows and silhouettes. They grab onto each other’s hair and fingers and limbs like children, giggling and pushing on their way to the telescope.   

“Fucking hell, it’s dark.”

“Yeah, because it’s night, psycho.” 

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice." 

“Ow! That hurts. Stop pulling.”

“You stop pulling.”

“Ow ow ow!"

"Fuck! Did you just kick me?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop freaking pulling."

Though Lex has been out here at night hundreds of times, the sheer darkness of the desert on a new moon never ceases to surprise her. In all directions except above them, there is only black for miles. Lex holds her hand in front of her face, marveling at the fact that she can’t make out its shape. For the briefest second, Lex imagines that the two of them are floating in space, with only the stars to see.

Genny drops to the ground to riffle through her backpack. Without being asked, Lex pulls a miniature flashlight from her pocket and shines it down into the backpack, illuminating its contents. Genny murmurs a sound that could be either Thank you or Screw you. 

The inside of the red backpack is stuffed full to bursting with papers and books and trinkets and all the random crap Genny seems to find necessary on their short star-watching trips. Lex waits for her to finish shuffling.

Finally, Genny tugs out her fat astronomy book and opens it to a dog-eared section. The pages are old and worn, faded from use, but the pictures inside are bright and vivid underneath the flashlight. “It’s a bit cloudy tonight,” she says, biting distractedly at her thumbnail. Her other hand traces the notes she’s written in the margins of the pages. “I hope Saturn will still be visible.” 

From above her, Lex watches several strands of Genny’s hair fall in front of her face. Genny doesn’t notice; her eyes are too intently glued to the pages. 

Lex’s heart lurches oddly. “Well, we’re not gonna find out by looking in your book,” she says. She flicks off the flashlight and kicks the book closed. They’re engulfed in darkness again.

“Hey!”

“Get up here,” says Lex, already reaching for the telescope. “There’s an entire world out here begging for your attention.” 

Genny huffs but joins her side. This time, Lex moves so Genny can look through first. It’s too dark to see her now, but Lex can imagine the expression—pure excitement, awe, even sadness. It’s the same face she always has when she looks at the stars. Lex predicts Genny’s emotions better than she predicts her own.

Genny finishes angling the telescope. Lex hears the smallest intake of breath. “Lexa, there it is. Look, look. You’ve got to see this.” 

Genny moves, and Lex takes a look. She closes one eye to peek into the telescope, and—there it is, Saturn, pale and ringed, bright but tiny in the darkness. “That’s it?” Lex says. “What a letdown."

“What do you mean that’s it?” Genny shouts, exasperation soaking into each word. Her voice shoots across the desert and gets swallowed by the night. “You’re looking at a planet! A planet ringed by ice! A planet ninety-five times bigger than Earth!”

“You know what else is way bigger than the Earth? The stars right up there.” Lex steps back and lies down on the ground. The dust sticks to her bare arms. “And I can look at them with my own two eyes. Ouch! Don’t fucking step on me, I’m right behind you.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t see you.”

They fall silent. The desert is cold and alive with the sounds of buzzing insects and wind. Lex wishes she could see Genny now, wishes she could see her face as she gazes into the telescope. Lex's chest hurts with the wanting of it.

“Lie down next to me,” Lex says when she can’t stand it anymore. "Don’t tell me Saturn is prettier than these stars.”

Genny blows a raspberry with her lips, but after a moment Lex can hear her sit down, can hear the scrape of her body against the sand. She feels Genny settle beside her—she’s warm—and loop an arm into hers. “I hate that you’re right,” Genny mutters, and Lex laughs.

They lie there quietly for so long, and Lex is so happy, that she nods off into sleep. At some point Genny nudges her awake, and she says, “I really love you, Lex, do you know that?” And Lex has the most overwhelming urge to cry. She pretends to be asleep instead.

Sometime later in the night, they use the flashlight to scramble for their bikes, gather their bags, and put away the telescope. They don’t bike home—it’s too dangerous in the pitch black of night—so they walk alongside each other in the dark, pushing their bikes by the handlebars. They move toward the lights of the neighborhood, far out in the distance.

“Happy birthday, Gen,” Lex says, one more time.

Gen elbows her, lightly. “As birthdays go, it was a pretty good one."

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Selenophobia

Quick Halloween fic. Just because I see so many vampire Azula fics; Azula is a werewolf and Sokka is a werewolf hunter.

A piercing howl cuts through the night and all he has is one silver bullet. He shivers under the full moon light. Winter comes early this year, the mid-autumn chill is setting very deeply in and turning to something much colder. It has already snowed and there a hefty piles of it still left especially in the forest where the sun can’t penetrate. This year is going to be harsh, he notes to himself. The howl drops into something more mournful and somber as he enters the woods. A heavy mist yawns out from the mouth of the forest; he can only see three or four trees ahead of him, hardly optimal for hunting weres. It doesn’t help that he only has lantern light to guide him. He groans to himself, wondering how he’d let the village sucker him into this one.

 He wanders in the direction of the howl leaves and snow crunching beneath his feet. He realizes that he is anything but subtle. He wants to protect his village and his sister, but he isn’t even sure he can protect himself. With the fog so heavy, the wolf could be directly in front of him but he wouldn’t see it until it had his throat in its hideous hybrid hands.

 The howl comes again, but this time interwoven with human wail. It is drawn out and almost makes him feel for the monster that he is going to slay. He isn’t looking down and his boot nudges against something that saps his empathy away at once.

The man is laying on his side, missing a good chunk of his torso and part of his thigh. A musket lay discarded several feet away. It was as useless as a toy.

 Another cry rings out, but it is far more woman than wolf. He shudders because it closer than he initially thought it to be. He thinks maybe only a five-minute run to the east. Looking at the husk of a man he growls to himself and dashes through the tree line. He is going to kill it, but a bullet through its heart and hack its head off for show. Let it see what it is like to be dismembered.

 The wolf isn’t hard to find between the snapped underbrush and the trail of blood and innards. On one occasion as Sokka goes to move a branch out of the way, his hand falls upon something sticky and gooey. He cringes and a chill goes up and down his spine. It is no time to act like a fool but he can’t help it; he is practically squealing as he wipes whatever it was, away, onto the nearest clump of moss.

 He is lucky that she hadn’t taken notice of his ruckus.

 She is on her hands and knees, shivering against the biting cold. A spill of inky hair cascading over naked shoulders, a sharp contrast to the pale skin it tumbles over. She shudders and gasps, in an apparent struggle against whatever pains had just tremored through her teeny body.

She looks up at him almost desperately, her eyes bearing signs of fatigue and suffering beyond his understanding. Blood is smeared across her mouth and drips from her chin. She wipes at it and when her hand comes away tinged with red she stares at it for a considerable lapse of time, until something registers in her mind. And she trembles harder, her eyes some wider, she looks up at Sokka, faintly horrified.

When she does, he recognizes her. She is the wealthy girl that they had carted off to the psych ward as her brother watched, a few nights prior. The girl who is apparently prone to fits and emotional outburst. The girl who cried about how the moon was after her. The girl who had been dragged from her home thrashing and screaming.

The girl who had escaped a few nights after being put in the ward.

 “I told them that it was after me. I told them that it would get me.” No sooner than the words leave her lips, is she crumpled on the forest floor, lost to the world for a time. Sokka observes her sleeping form. It is venerable, unprotected. Suddenly he is aware, once more, of the weight of the musket in his hand. He only has to fire; one quick shot and he can rid the village of its monster. He can finish what he set out to do. He wonders if she had known what he’d come to do to her. He cocks the gun and fixes it on her heart.

 He studies her face, it is so human. Not a trace of wolf remained, her skin is soft and delicate. She looks rather peaceful. And perhaps she is, so long as the moon remains crescent or gibbous. He almost doesn’t want to do it, but he had been given a task. He wanted to protect the village and his sister. He had made a volunteer of himself and now he has to go through with it.

A shot rings out, loud and echoing. It sends owls from their perches and true wolves into hiding. It carries across the rickety wooden bridge and into the village where children cower away and farmers rejoice. Where mothers sigh in relief and Zuko jolts up in his bed. The entirety of the town releases a breath it didn’t know it was holding, it comes out like smoke from chimneys.

He carefully lifts the girl up, she is so cold.

 .oOo.

 She no longer feels pine needles nipping at her skin and the air doesn’t feel quite so cold. She can smell some sort of tea, she is too groggy to make out the type. It is still dark, but a lesser dark. The sky is less black and more of a deep indigo, many of the stars are beginning to flee, lest they be caught by  the sun. And the moon, it still glares through the window, its spell still has her temper in its grasp. It leaves her with a very feral desire to escape the roof she is under.

But before she can bend to the tug of the moon, the boy from the forest makes an appearance. She spies his gun leaning against the fire place, it only registers then, that he had, had it with him the whole time. That she was every bit the game as she was the hunter.

 She snarls at him and she knows that he is aware that she has put the pieces together. Her teeth a bared in such a nasty way, that the boy takes a step or two back and she knows that the moon doesn’t plan on releasing her until the sun forces back behind the horizon.

 Azula fights to level herself. With more effort than it should have ever taken, the snarl is gone and her expression is at least somewhat neutral again. She can tell that the boy is hesitant to approach her. She does nothing to alleviate his fears nor to hike them up to a higher level. At last he makes a decision. He wraps a generously warm blanket around her shoulders and puts a blaze into the fireplace.

 She doesn’t understand his charity and compassion. He was supposed to kill her, instead he is warming her and making her comfortable. In her torment she had tormented others, she thinks she has killed people. Yet, he is treating her as though she is a girl who had simply gotten lost and maimed in the woods.

She tugs the blanket tighter, wishing she truly was just a girl who had wandered too far and too late at night.

 He leaves the room and comes back with a steaming bowl of stew and the tea she had smelled earlier. “This should warm you up.” He notes.

 She accepts the meal and stares quietly into the fire. She brings her fingers to her chin; he has cleaned her up too. “Why?”  She asks at last. Her eyes don’t leave the blazing hearth.

 “I don’t know.” He confesses. “I just couldn’t do it. You looked so…”

 “Human.” She finishes flatly. “But you wouldn’t have thought twice otherwise.”

 The boy is quiet. “That’s not necessarily true.”

 Azula rolls her eyes and takes another drink from the glass. “You’re telling me that you wouldn’t have shot if you’d seen a wolf with a bloody maw?” He looks at his palms and she knows that she is right. There is no compassion until the human beneath is exposed. “So you would have put a bullet trough my heart.” She continues just as nonchalantly. “My body would have dropped and reverted into its original form. What would you have done then?” He still doesn’t answer and it vexes her, because she already knows the answer.

 And he says the thing that peeves her the most. “I would have tried to help you. I’d have taken you to the physicians…”

 “People tend to forget that there is a human beneath the wolf.” She pauses, “At least until the claws retract. Then the sympathy comes out, especially if they see a woman’s face. They never try to reach them through the wolf, but they always feel bad when they see the human bleeding on the floor.”

 She sees him swallow. She almost feels bad for guilting him.

 “Well wouldn’t you shoot a beast?” He cringes immediately after he says it.

 But she doesn’t, she is used to hearing it. Wolf or not they treated her like so. “Would it surprise you if I said I’d kill both in a heartbeat?” She half-chuckles, “humans are beasts too, really.”

 “I don’t think that you would.” He replies.

 “Then you don’t know me at all. You have no idea what you just saved.”

 Azula knows that she has left him wondering if he had made the right decision. She hopes that he can figure it out, because she can’t.

[whosxafraid]

Volk/vo'robushek for married life meme

Meme: Married Life Meme Status: CLOSED

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Seven minutes. Exactly seven minutes is how long he was gone. The precise time it requires to take the stairs to the walk away, that leads to the post box and back again. Most of it garbage, the post that is. Probably could have waited to be retrieved until after he cooked dinner but….

Steps reverse, the exact backward order they’d been taken. One brow rising exponentially over green. Because there is a trail of clothes. Heels, then stockings, the sleeve of a shirt peeking around the corner….and the post—ends up abandoned on the counter. Forgotten for a second time today. As his feet follow the bread crumb trail of clothes.

That lead unsurprisingly to the bedroom door. That’s not entirely closed. One hand to push it open and–blinded by silk that scents like—he yanks it off. Green instantly centering on the creme skin that stands out almost painfully against darker toned sheets.

          Borsht better cold served. Pravda.

Dinner…time…that one planet with all the autonomous clocks….they could all wait. And the door shuts with an almost spirited thud.

forgets to run the dish washer

           “D’is would be goin’ much faster i’ ye weren’t fea’dered jus’ now.”

          Not the idiot who used weaver crap without fizzy sudsy, Milkbone.

A roll of eyes but a conceding shrug all the same. Because she’s right. It was his turn on kitchen duty, but it’s also not entirely his fault. She had distracting him that morning, before they’d gone out of the day. But here nor there, because now here they were. Him washing and Quothe…well dancing around on the plates with a towel in her talons. And he’s pretty sure she’s scratching them more than drying–not that he’ll say a word.

pumps gas for the car

              “Fuel on d’is planet be smellin’ loi’ke candy floss…”

             Luna’s face…moon. What, are you a goldfish we gotta go over this every thirty seconds?

A bit of a chuckle, to frame the shrug that only marginally threatens to unseat her. One hand coming up to run a finger along the bottom of her beak. Watching the meter rise with each millisecond that goes by them. A bit of a squint as green moves away from it to watch as he suns are swallowed hole by the planet they’re revolving around.

              “Ye be tellin’ me where we be goin’ now?”

              South assa raven flies. Don’ worry, I’ll steer.

drives when they’re going somewhere

Back into the car. Quothe hoping from shoulder to arm to dashboard. And maybe it’s both comforting and a little unnerving the similarities of this universes ‘automobiles’. But then he supposed if a thing worked by alter it? Regardless he pulls back out onto the road. Settling the speed, letting the vehicle do most of the work. While he just kept it inside the neon purple lines.

But then his fingers are getting pecked and he’s moving one hand away from the wheel. Quothe wrapping one set of talons around the wheel and tugging it to turn it. And he follows the direction. Taking the next right.

         “Ye could o’jus’ said…” a small complaint as the abused finger is pulled from between his lips.

         Rub some dirt in it an’ walk it off, paw patrol. 

rearranges the furniture**

Splinters of what used to be furniture. Paper torn away from books that like scattered like bodies across a battlefield like quit. Shattered remains of dishware. The occasional spark of live wires playing along the surface of the pool, that’s littered with dust and dirt. The smell of blood and burnt wood and other chemicals rising out of a barrel, that’s all but gone out. And in the middle of it all…

He sits. Not unlike a statue. As though an artist had fashioned him into the chaos of the home around him. Bloody knuckled but other wise unharmed. A cigarette smoldering in one hand, the other encased about a flask. And he drinks because what else is there too do in the wake of his rage? In the wake of losing his temper as he has not done in centuries. In the wake of actually feeling like the monster that stories had written him to be.

        Gaia’s boobs, Alpo, th'fuck happened to you? It was the cosmic mailman, wasn’t it?

But he doesn’t answer does he? Doesn’t make any indication at all that he’s heard her. The flask lifted to his lips instead. Taking a bitter bit from it, before it too is cast into the smoldering bits of the dying fire. The cigarette drained of what life it had left, and tossed in as well; before he’s staggering to his feet. Which drag heavy across the floor, to carry him to his bed.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. And it’s not like she would care or have anything encouraging to say. Not that it would help.

falls asleep with the TV on

Half past he doesn’t even know when he wakes up. Not jarred awake by any one thing. Though the dream he had had…the fact that he had had one. Something of a sleepy smile on his face. At least until he moves. Moves and realizes he has the mother of all criks in his neck. Which is some how only made worse by the horrible late night show currently droning on the tv. 

A hand moves, blindly find the remote. Shutting the trash entertainment off. Only to realize a minute later he’s a bit…well he’s not stuck he could move but the fact is if he did–he doesn’t want to wake her up. So instead he simply works the pillow out from between his leg and the couch. Props his head up on that, and soon enough he’s drifted off to sleep again. Anya drapped over him like linen. And while tomorrow he’ll wake up sore and stiff…he’ll count it worth it. And not a word of complaint will find purchase on his tongue.

gets to use the bathroom first

He’d woken early. Gone out to find breakfast. Not that, that is hard given where they are spending their time now. A forest as far as one could run in any direction. Where they were the only not quite animal beings for hundreds if not thousands of miles. It is a pleasant experience. One that he has missed, more than he could ever really put into words.

And it is not long before he’s returned, with something fresh to eat. Still warm with the linger life he’d taken from it. Set rather neatly on the expanse of rock just outside the den they’ve called home the last few months. Though it’s all shattered with a rather displeased sound. That’s only followed by even more displeased words.

                 First one to the finish line is a euphemism, so next time could you…not?

A snort that’s pushed harshly out his nose. It’s not his fault she can’t watch where she decides to land. Besides, he’s got to mark his territory. That’s how the whole living like a wolf thing works.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

She was born here. Built for the harsher climates. And though he is what he is. Though he burns warmer than most beings–she notices the way he inches towards the fire just a little more. Rubs hands together, flexes fingers. Trying to work out the stiffness the cold is trying to settle into his bones. And maybe it dawns on her right then–he hadn’t had to say yes. They could have gone anywhere.

He slides a knight into position that will have her in check in two moves.

But he had said yes. Had let her lead him all over this snow covered land. Honestly enjoyed it where it counted. But in so doing, had kept his complaints to himself. Had dealt with the cold he’s not used to the way she is. And maybe…the game can wait. Be picked up again in the morning. So she gets up.

Skillfully adds more fuel to the fire, before shifting back to his side. Fingers threading into his to nudge him into getting up too. Tugging him down to the bedding by the fire, and pulling the furs up around them. Because there is more than one way to warm a man’s blood. And it is not always the liquor left abandoned by the chess board that does the trick.

sets up holiday decorations

Gords of every color collecting at the corners of door frames. Drying herbs hanging from the kitchen window. Apples stacked haphazardly to make them all fit int he basket on the counter. A bowl set on the table filled with water and floating flowers. And candles. Perched in ever spot available that wasn’t a completely fire hazard. And in the middle of it all…he’s cooking dinner. What she has no idea but  the little plates set out on the window sill, meant to hold tiny portions of whatever he was making—enough is a enough is enough.

This hangs noodles from ears, Solnyshko.

            “What? S’Mebon…ye canna be expectin’ me no’ ta celebrate. S’ta firs’ toi’me oi’ can an’ i’be ma’dderin’ in ages.”

A breath to respond but…oh what’s the point. If it makes him happy, she’ll suffer. For now anyway. Though if he even comes close to asking her to dance around a may pole he’s got another thing coming…wait no–that’s the wrong festival.

leaves the lights on

It’s…he has lived for longer than any creature born a mortal should. And all his life he has avoided the vastness of the north beyond the lands that once held vikings. Because that place had been cold enough. Had spent his centuries troding the same paths over and over and over again until they had become habit and he stopped looking for the hidden turns and valleys.

And to be honest, at the moment, he’s completely miserable. He’d lost feeling in his nose hours ago. But still she wished to sit and wait. Sit and wait for his currently non existence dick knew not what. But he keeps his gripping to himself. Sniffles, and burrows his hands further into his pockets if that’s possible. The sinking sun doing nothing to help matter at all.

But finally it sets. Sinks beyond the horizon. Though he realizes not that will be the last time this place will see it for more than a month. And something happens. Anya moves. Wraps her arms around one of his. Snuggles against it as though cold, though he knows better. And there is something pensive and yet excited to the way her face lights up. The way the words look up, leave her lips, to become nothing more than vapor.

So he follows her direction. Green gazing upwards at the vast blackness. Stars sprinkled over head, and perhaps that is…an unwanted reminder of what he lost. Though a moment later the sensation of her hand slipping into his glove to share in his warmth dislodges the train of thought and then—

It’s color. Bright and warm and dancing above them to music he can not hear. And while age and knowledge tell him what it is, it does not dull the effect. Green and blue and yellow. Orange in pieces. Purple in sporadic affairs with the darkness beyond it. And there is something utterly transfixing about it. The way the colors weave and shimmer. As though they were living beings that breathed and lived trapped between the earth and the universe beyond. And perhaps that is enough to leave him speechless. 

Enough to have him staring unblinking at the beauty above them. Because how long has it been since he could see the world the way he’d been born too? Without shades of grey to throw everything off. To see it as he was meant to see it. Vibrant and undiluted by the salvation from death. And maybe green glints with the emotion of it all. The most silent of thanks sent drifting into the in between. Where he hopes it is heard. Because a debt is owed her that he can never pay, so instead he will thank her. Thank her for the smallest of things each day she granted Anya and himself. 

uses the bathroom with the door open**

Two am and he’s pulled awake by pain that is both stabbing and a dull ache all at once. Phantom though he knows it is, it feels real. The parts of him born mortal suddenly remembering the fact that other parts had been ripped out. That pieces that are there shouldn’t be, and he feels the sensation of the loss all over again. 

He gets up. 

Drags himself to the bathroom. Where a cigarette is lit with one hand while the other aims. The quiet only some how emphasizing the throbbing in his bones and muscles and organs. Lungs that hiccup a little on the smoke and oxygen becuase his brain doesn’t want to believe they are there at all. And there’s a bit of a cough that has him nailing the inside lid.

Feck. He’ll clean it up later.

And then what clothes he does have on come loose. Left in a pool by the sink. The tub faucet turned on to boiling and he’s leaning over. Retrieving the a bottle of worry away from the cabinet. Only to realize he’s got no glass. Though a second later a taloned foot is digging into his shoulder enough to keep her in place. In the other she carries what he’s missing and there’s a sleepy noise that might have been thank you in another life, as he takes the glass from her.

           There’s a dictionary in my pocket. Look up the word shame, would ya?

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

The spray nozzle on the sink wasn’t working. He’ll fix it he promises. He’ll have it done before she gets back. He swears. And he does to his credit. Have it fixed that is. It’s working. He’s tested it. But maybe…..maybe every now and then he can devolved into a teenager. Maybe every now and then pranks are a thing. Maybe every now and then the noise that comes out of the kitchen, reaching decimals that might have deafened him were he not already plugging his ears in preparation for it, is satisfying by degrees.

Because like he told her once before…she’s cute when she’s angry…..And even more so when she’s drenched and looking more like a slicked down pigeon than a raven by degrees.

         Next time you wear beast skin, will skin you out of it.

The neighbors three floors down could hear the laughing, and the subsequent thudding of feet, because books? They don’t react well to canned whip creme.

[brywrites]

To Have and To Hold

Summary: Reid x Reader. She says she doesn’t want a relationship. He says he’s not ready for one. They both know that’s not true.

Author’s Note: I was having a hard time finding the words for a project I’m working on, and in an effort to warm up, this just sort of... happened. I thought I’d post it here and let you know I’m still thinking of you all and I love you and I wish I had more time to give, but anyways I’m rambling now, so yeah, here’s Wonderwall.

When the space they exist in starts to shift, wavering between friends and more, she’s honest with him.

“I’m not looking to be in a relationship with someone,” she says. “You know what it was like for me growing up. I just don’t think it’s possible for me to be with someone like that.” The father who wasn’t a good one, he knows all about that. The anger, the cheating, the fights. The brother who’d grown up to be exactly like him. In her experience, relationships in her family only knew how to end. How to end violently and painfully. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust me,” she explains.

Though it stings, Reid says, “I understand. I’m not sure I’m ready for that either.” He doesn’t have to say it, the words alone imply that Maeve’s death is still too recent, too fresh a wound. But he doesn’t tell her that if anyone makes him feel ready, it’s her. For her, he’d say yes in a heartbeat. For her, he would learn to believe again, to open up again. And so for her, he takes a step back. Watches as she tries to erase any progression of hearts, drawing tight lines around what they are and what they can’t be.

Reid decides if all he can be is her friend, he’ll be the best friend she has ever had. It takes no effort to memorize her coffee order, surprise her with a cup at work from time to time when he passes her floor, where she works in Bureau recruitment. On weekends she comes over and they watch marathons of their favorite television shows, or they go to the library. Sometimes on weeknights, she’ll invite him over to play board games or sit and talk or get dinner. One evening, as Y/N is in the restroom, an older woman leans over from her booth, smiles, and says “You’re such a lovely couple.” Not knowing what else to do, he just says thank you, and tries to push down any desire still burning in his chest.

It isn’t easy, this line they walk. Not when she still hugs him upon seeing him or before they part ways. Not when she’s had a hard day and starts to fall asleep on his shoulder when they’re in the middle of a movie. Not when he’s at her house and it’s late so she insists he can just stay over and sleep on the couch. Not when she looks at him with those eyes, and that smile she shows only to him.

But that’s not for him to decide.

When something goes wrong, when her family says all the worst things or when work is just too stressful, or she’s feeling lonely, he’s the first person she calls. He listens to her cry. She does the same for him. They orbit around each other, sun and moon, refusing to share the same sky. As if they could pretend they don’t feel this magnetic pull, the immense force of gravity between them.

All he wants is to be with her forever. To be by her side. He wants to hold her hand, wants to hold her close and not count the acceptable number of seconds before he knows he should pull away. Selfish as it is, he just wants to know that there’s nobody else in her heart who can take his place. It’s an honor she already holds in his. Reid just wants to be hers, wants to continue to be the only one who can make her eyes light up like that.

There was a time when he was afraid, too. Scared that nobody would ever want him or accept him or understand him. Then there was Maeve. And after Maeve he was afraid he would never want that again. But Y/N continues to prove that wrong. He’s not sure he has ever needed something so badly in all his life.

It begins to eat away at him, that wish. Distractions don’t seem to help. In an effort to move forward, he tries going on a few dates that Morgan or Garcia or JJ set him up on. He even tries a dating app. No success. From the moment they met, Y/N just got him. None of these other people even come close to that connection. From time to time she asks him about the dates, and he’ll recount the awkward and strained conversations, or the uncomfortable questions about his job, or even the date who managed to spill three separate drinks on him in less than an hour.

“I don’t want much,” he sighs, one night, staring out the window. The faint sound of her breathing on the other end of the phone. “I just want somebody I can share my heart with, you know? I just – I just want to wake up on a Saturday morning with someone else beside me, and they’ll turn over and, and smile.” Outside, rain is falling on the streets of DC. “Then we’ll make coffee together in our pajamas and do nothing. Or everything. I don’t care. To have and to hold, that’s really all I need.”

“You’ll find someone like that,” she assures him softly. “Someone who makes you feel safe.”

“So will you,” he tells her, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. He hopes it’s true, because even if it’s not with him, he wants her to be happy. That much she deserves. Someone who can make her trust herself again, someone who will open up the doors she has long since closed in her heart.

She’s quiet for a moment, before they exchange a hurried goodbye. Reid thinks nothing of it, and goes off to brush his teeth. Just as he’s crawling into bed, there’s a knock at the door of his apartment. Nobody comes knocking on his door this late at night, but something instinctual says it’s important.

Sure enough, when he opens it, there she is. Soaking wet, hair plastered against her forehead.

“Y/N? What’s going on? What happened?”

Tears well up in her eyes, practically indistinguishable from the droplets of rainwater clinging to her skin. “I need you,” she cries. “I want you.”

Maybe it’s because it’s so late or maybe it’s because of those words, but he’s sure this is some kind of dream. His brain can’t process the words. What does she mean? “I don’t understand.” Not wanting to alarm and neighbors, he gently puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her inside just enough that he can shut the door.

“I don’t want to find someone else,” she says, between quiet sobs. “And I don’t want you to find someone else. I want it to be us. I want to be with you. I want to fall asleep next to you and I want to wake up in your arms and I want to make coffee together in the mornings instead of buying it separately at a shop, and I just want to be with you!”

He stands there, completely at a loss for words, as Y/N stands there crying in his living room. “And I’m afraid to love someone, especially as much as I love you, but I’m more afraid of losing you! I’m afraid I’ll wake up and it’ll be too late and I’ll have missed the best thing to ever happen to me,” she continues. “I know I can’t give you very much and I know I’m not good at letting people in like that, but I love you, and if all you need is someone to have and to hold, I can be that. I can be there.  Because I need that too, I need it, I just need you.” She chokes in air. “I need you, and I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t. I know you said you weren’t ready for something serious and if tha-”

“I’m ready,” he interrupts. She pauses, looks at him wide-eyed. “I’m ready, god, I’ve been ready from the moment I met you. All I want is to be with you. But you said you didn’t want a relationship so I stayed back.”

“I lied!” It’s half-sob, half-laughter. “I don’t trust myself, but Spencer, I’d trust you with my life. My heart. I just… I just want…” The syllables won’t string themselves together, so he finishes her intentions with action. Two steps forward. Arms open. He wraps her in an embrace, holds her close. She buries her face in his chest, he rests his chin on her head. This time, he doesn’t count. He doesn’t have to. They just stay like that, as the rain and thunder play a stormy symphony beyond the walls of this apartment.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I need you.” Her arms come up around his waist, holding him just as close.

When they finally pull away she says, “It’s so late. I’m sorry. I just – we were talking on the phone and I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, and I realized I didn’t want that with anyone else, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you doing that with someone else. It’s you. It’s always going to be you.”

“That’s all I want,” he says. “And don’t worry about the time. You can just stay here tonight.”

“On the couch?” she questions. He shakes his head, leads her to his room. After giving her one of his shirts to change into, and letting her hang her wet clothes up in his shower, he pulls back the blankets of his bed and invites her in.

It’s nothing sexual, but it is intimate, allowing her into this space. His heart beats out the staccato tempo of a drum, he can feel the heat in his cheeks, but tries to stay calm as she carefully climbs onto the mattress and lays down beside him. Finds his hand and laces her fingers between his. Face to face, heart to heart. It takes only minutes to fall asleep, watching as she slowly drifts off beside him.

They wake with their arms around each other. “Good morning,” she says, with that soft smile of hers. It’s real then, not a dream conjured up by his lonely subconscious.

“Morning,” he replies. “You wanna make some coffee?”

“In a minute. We’ve got all day to nothing. Or everything. I just want to stay here a little longer with you.”

“That sounds perfect.” And he pulls her just a little closer, holds her just a little tighter. He’ll never hurt her the way the men in her life have before. He’ll keep her safe, make her laugh. Hold her close when she needs it most, and when he needs it, he’ll let her hold him too.

He grins, feeling her heart beat against his, and marvels at the way everything he’s ever needed fits so snugly between his arms.

[dentos-wife]

Alright I finished Ultra Moon! Game play was fun, the new totems were interesting I love the new outfits you can get (should have given us more darnit what are there two?!). And Ultra Space is fun probably the best thing about this game honestly.

But...anyone who knows me know I LOVED Moon, it actually has my favorite story in any Pokemon game as of late, a great cast and a wonderful plot. When USM was announced I had some concerns about how the plot would be handled. The only reason they had two games instead of one for their third game was because Nebby was two Pokemon they needed one for each. I was concerned due to Necrozma being the focus they’d kill the plot that made SM so good. Especially as when looking it prerelease material it seemed to be the same game with little touches here and there.  

If you enjoyed the original and want to play more go for it there are some differences you might enjoy but if you never played an Alola version and want to jump in I would call the original better in terms of the world of Alola but Ultra better for gameplay so it depends on what matters to you. I generally prefer character and plot, so my recommendation goes to the original most would say the opposite.

My full review with spoilers for USM under the cut

Sun and Moon was not really your story, it was Lillie’s and the bond she had with Nebby. Ultra Moon is treated just like Moon until the very last half of the game, and then the new plot starts and it’s a total train wreck. See, if they were going to do a new plot you’d think they’d start it earlier and not have all the dialogue be the exact same because it doesn’t work with the new plot. 

Here’s what I mean by the dialouge is the same at one point it’s hilarious because Hau beat Hala in USUM, but Gladion still states that Hau can't beat Hala when you first meet him. It’s just wrong and lazy. That a minor thing but then it cuts into story.

Lillie is still treated the exact same until everything starts and she’s roughly shoved aside. The touching moment between you and her on Executor Island? Gone. You go alone. She still does her Z form and all that but because Lusamine is so different (more on that later) it just feels pointless and all the power behind that scene is sucked away. She doesn’t even go to Ultra Space with you and obviously because her plot is chopped up she doesn’t go to Kanto either. She’s just there. And it would be okay because I get it different game but then why set her up to be the exact same as she was in the original games and then violently shove everything aside to make up for the new plot. It. doesn’t. work.

Lusamine....oh Lusamine, one of the most interesting villains we’ve ever had was reduced to wanting to go to Ultra Space to fight Necrozma because she has a hero complex and is selfish, same basic stuff we always had but it’s very hard to tell what they were trying to do with her. Because most of her dialogue is exactly the same and she still has the frozen Pokemon room and again it just doesn’t work. People are upset she’s now redeemable but she was in the first game too and at the very least it made sense in that one.

She lost her husband and due to it became an ultra beast obsessed Nilhelgo poisoned drug addict who continued to get more and more batshit insane the more she came in contact with said UB eventually becoming Mother Beast and needing a good old fashioned beat down and giving us one of the greatest confrontations and lines from her daughter. 

In Ultra Moon she goes to ultra space to fight Necrozma and comes out. Lillie and her apparently talk while you’re fighting Necrozma and...that’s it. 

Which again would have been fine if they didn’t set her up exactly like the original. Nilhelgo still shows up in Aether Foundation and you still battle the thing her lines are exactly the same. They don’t change until Lillie gets kidnapped.

Minimal changes usually do work, Platinum is the best example of that. But it doesn’t work with the plot SM had, USM should have gotten rid of the family drama then because that only works with Lusamine being the antagonist she was it doesn’t play as well with her sidelined role. Granted because she’s not toxined and Kanto’d you can unlock this but...that was also very underwhelming.

Hau on the other hand they tried to make this game more about him, and honestly they should have thrown Lillie’s plot out then because what they do do with him works. It was nice to see him beat his grandfather and being the “champion” you had to face instead of Kukui. That was all nice, but then they should have had him be involved in the main plot more. Then in post game it’s back to Lillie as Lusamine is kidnaped by Rainbow Rocket. And we see what we always wanted to see Lillie as a trainer! But it’s...meh not that powerful she’s only a double battle partner and then gives up and heals you along the way.

So what is the main plot? Necrozma fuzes with Nebby once it becomes Lunala (or Solgaleo if you’re playing Ultra Sun) retreats to Ultra Space and you with help of the Ultra Recon Squad’s Pokemon to get you there (otherwise they still do nothing) beat it and come back. In that Ultra Megalopolis thing right? Except man you’d think something with that name would be massive right? Even the prerelease material hyped it up. The distortion world was really cool! This though was a tower. That’s it. You can even do anything in the place it felt really bland. I half wonder if they planned to do something with it and then ran out of time. 

Anyway Necromza retreats and you can catch it right before the league on the mountain. Little underwhelming really. The URS was more of a walking plot device then actual characters too which is a shame as I wanted to like them but they would appear talk plot and then leave. And Necrozma isn’t even evil like advertised (Surprise! Who’s surprised? No one.)

So yes game play and all that is fixed but the plot is damn terrible. Seriously, yes URS is new but for the first four islands: "Hello. Cryptic stuff about our world. Bye!" and then straight back to the Sun/Moon plot. Which shouldn’t be how it was, they should have done more with them everything hits too late and EVERYONE suffers because of it. Except Hau, Hau did pretty well.

As someone who likes to get invested in the characters and plot I’m very disappointed. The Looker and Anabel quest is gone which...is a damn shame. That also gave us some more world building about Alola. Instead you get this Rainbow Rocket which is alright I guess. Ghetsis and Corless having a showdown was neat and you see a little into the past villains with some text. Guzma gets something which is cool too but why replace something that expanded on Alola for this? Could you have had both somehow then? I know Pokemon doesn’t have DLC and thank goodness but eh RR plot should have without a doubt been DLC. Delta Emerald was a great post game plot, it expanded on the world gave our new people some character and we learned more about Hoenn. Compared to that Rainbow Rocket was....fanservice. 

Since most people are into Pokemon for gameplay this will be fine I’m sure but as for me this game was basically my worst fears. I didn’t need to exist the same way BW2 didn’t need to exist (and as much as I rag on BW2 AT LEAST it was a sequel so there was nothing to ruin) I don’t agree with their choices and it was a total let down from BW but compared to this...which was a third game for a already pretty complete game. The one that NEEDED the fix was XY and it got nothing. I would have rather had Z over this honestly.

But the gameplay is solid at least, I’m just more of a involved with the world kind of person.

[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 5

blooming | titus andronicus Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, and an inappropriate amount of references to video games and classical music and literature titles, no beta we die like men ;;v;; pre-canon a.k.a before FFXV Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership.

Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE FROM NOCTGAR!

PLEASE CHECK YOUR MESSAGE BOX!

A message. You quirk a brow at the notification popping up after your raid battle in King’s Knight. While it’s an extremely common occurrence as of late, give or take a few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have received a notification like this out of nowhere. Now, you’d get this notification popping up after every few hours, saying you have a message or two posted in your inbox. It’s strange. All too strange.

Without thinking, your thumb hovers over the INBOX button and presses down. What used to be an empty inbox devoid of messages is now filled to the brim with short notes, all bearing the name NoctGar.

TO: THE ARCHITECT

FROM: NOCTGAR

SUBJECT: [none]

MESSAGE: Prom and I are planning a raid tonight on the new Eleastor dungeon. Wanna come? We’ve got a fourth party member too.

And NoctGar is none other than Prince Noctis himself.

You skim through his raid invitation once more, lips pursed thoughtfully. Ah, yes, the Eleastor dungeon from the time-limited event in King’s Knight. Figures that the boys would be excited over it. Seeing how you just finished soloing a round, you suppose it won’t be too bad of an idea to join them in their raid. The item drops ranged from common antidotes to rare weapons, though rumours circulate the web that there are five-star drops with an appalling drop rate left to be scavenged by some lucky souls. And those five-star drops are precisely what you’re aiming for.

Already knowing your answer, both thumbs expertly key in your reply.

TO: NOCTGAR

FROM: THE ARCHITECT

SUBJECT: Sure

MESSAGE: What time?

Succinct, just enough to get the point across. You had just sent the message with a tap of a button when your phone vibrates, indicating yet another prompt reply from the prince.

TO: THE ARCHITECT

FROM: NOCTGAR

SUBJECT: [none]

MESSAGE: 9.30 tonight. I’ll text you the room ID later.

9.30 p.m.? That’s close enough to your bedtime, you suppose—but then again, you pretty much napped anytime, anywhere if you got the chance, so if you napped in the evening then you guess you could stay up a bit later to raid with them. Anything goes for that five-star drop to come true. With that plan firmly cemented in your head, your fingers are hard at work again.

TO: NOCTGAR

FROM: THE ARCHITECT

SUBJECT: Ok

MESSAGE: See you later.

Aaaand, send.

You navigated out of your inbox, knowing that no more replies would be coming in for now. After all, it’s already afternoon, where the sun glows brightly above Insomnia, swathing its citizens in balmy heat. Afternoons are usually bustling, where people roved about in their daily business, getting on with their lives just as easily. Surely the prince and his cheery friend, Prompto, are still in class. Sharing tables with the rest of the students in a university, doodling in seminar when the lecturer’s droning way past lunchtime, and munching through an unhealthy tableau of greasy burgers and salty fries.

You lock your phone with a click of a button and glanced at the world before your eyes, a sprawling cityscape of glass and steel magnificence.

“Why the long face, milady?”

Byron’s voice comes just as easily, interrupting your brewing thoughts with a soothing baritone. From your spot by the television, a spot where Noctis and Prompto once shared, he locks eyes with you and offers a crooked smile from the kitchenette. As usual, Byron’s brewing a signature pot of black tea—one of his favourites, you realise—and in the midst of arranging some biscuits on a paper doily, readying to be served for teatime.

Dropping your face into your pillow, your reply comes out muffled. “Nothing much. Just thinking about uni.”

“University?” he parrots after you, pale eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Are you worried about your thesis? As far as I know, your progress is on track, so you needn’t worry much. Worrying will only give you wrinkles, you know. If I’m still wrinkle-free at thirty-three, then you should strive to do better than that, milady.”

Again with that jibe of his. You can always count on Byron to lighten the mood when you’re a mess of a gloomy cloud. Turning to lie on your side, you pull the blankets up to your chest as the man dawdles on, emitting faint tinkling sounds of silverware against porcelain from the kitchen.

King’s Knight. Raid. NoctGar. Prince Noctis. Friend.

You’d seen him before—or rather, more accurately, you had read news with his face on it. A brooding prince printed in both colour and monochrome, eyebrows straight and lips pressed into a firm, thin line. Long lashes curtaining hazy blue eyes, complementing flawless expanse of skin. All sultry dips of collarbones, broad shoulders, and sinewy arms. Whenever he shows up around here, he’s always in a dark shirt and cargo pants, sometimes looking like a sweaty mess, and sometimes looking like he’d just stepped out of shower. With your chastising, he’d set aside his boots and claim your television area as his new territory, playing a game or two.

Did that constitute as a friend?

You roll over on your stomach, pulling a pillow close to your chin as you explore the thought.

Would a prince want to be friends with someone like you? Would he prefer the company of one such as yourself? Would you be worthy enough to be called his friend?

Prince Noctis is an untouchable figure, one who manifested out of the papers and stumbled into your room. He doesn’t talk much—except, when he brought his friend over last week, he seemed to be in a good mood all the time. Together, the three of you played through hours and hours of King’s Knight, achieving a grand total of four dragon scales out of 68 rounds before he breaks it off with a phone call from Ignis, who requested their hasty return for dinner.

It was fun.

If you closed your eyes, you could almost replay their voices in your head, a broken record of Prompto’s whining and the prince’s grumble.

It was really, really fun.

Is that what having friends felt like?

With them around, your thesis is just a pile of papers too difficult for a nineteen-year-old to be writing. Your box of cereal is shared between three, a meal fitting for the palate of a royalty. Your world in these four walls threatens to expand, to burst out of its glass box with Prompto’s ringing laugh and the prince’s incessant sulking. Your existence is not seen as merely Quintus’ object, but as someone. Someone they talked to. Someone they shared soda with. Someone they saw as a human. A human being.

Noctis doesn’t scoff at your inability to articulate emotions like the rest of them. There are no scathing one-liners designed to shame you. He kept things light, much like his name, Noctis Lucis Caelum. The first crack of light you see when he opens your box, the first light lining the horizons when dawn comes. The daughter of Andronicus is not deigned a stranger to the many magnanimities of the prince, never once regarded as one beneath him. He sees you for who you are, and your worth is weighed only in his hands alone. None other may influence his judgment, not that he allows it.

The House of Andronicus matters little to him, and so does Quintus’ name.

Subconsciously, your fingers dig deeper into your pillow.

“Hey, Byron?”

The albino, readying tea for two, stops working on the simple treat. “Yes, milady?” he answers, cocking a brow in concern. “You’re acting like a garbage maggot doused in hot water on the floor. What’s troubling you?”

You almost wanted to throw a pillow at his explicit description of disgust. “Meanie.”

“I’m sorry, milady, but that’s the truth.” He shakes with laughter, mischievous eyes glinting under his bangs. “Since you’re already cocooned up like one anyway.”

Impertinent Byron and his eternal teasing. On some days, he could be a mean surgeon with a scalpel for his tongue, and on others, he’d be the sweetest angel the Astrals created just for you. Still, he’s what you’re used to—and he’s the only one who’d talk to you anyway. Nobody else did before the prince showed up. Nobody but Byron.

Fiddling with your fingers, you peer up at him curiously from your pillow barrier.  “I was just wondering if… y’know… if we’re considered friends?”

Silence.

He’s heard your question, loud and clear. But the look in his eyes are heavy, heady grey, offset by the scarlet flecks in his irises.

“Oh dear, milady… we’re not friends. You own me.”

father would kill him if he catches wind of this. but byron is undaunted, humming cheerily to himself as he adjusts your oversized shirt and tucked the drooping neckline into place.

“it’s too bad you’re not allowed to wear dresses, milady,” he laments with a dramatic sigh. “i saw this cute dress at laellum market while i was out and about today, and i almost had the urge to buy it, you know?” he laughs at the look on your face. “no, not for myself. for you, milady. it’s cute and stylish for girls your age.”

a dress. you saw them before in books; cute, floaty frocks princesses wore as they danced with prince charming. under a cherry moon, painted in watercolours, mother read those books to you before. princesses twirling about with their princes, glass heels encircling their feet, a tiara of gold resting on their tresses. will there ever be a moment in time for you? where the galaxies are your halos, the stars crown your hair, and the nebula for your dress? will they throb and glow, minute lights dotting your lengthy tresses, as the universe kisses your lips?

but it is a hopeless desire even if the astrals craft your dress out of its constellations, for a dress is a dress. a dress father once ripped to pieces because you do not exist you do not matter you were never a daughter—

byron’s jostling breaks your reverie, and his hand in yours leads you away from those terrible thoughts. “anyway, let’s get a move on. today’s special.”

special, he says, but you don’t know what’s special anymore. byron said father would not hesitate to cut him down if he’s caught doing unsavoury things, but the man doesn’t seem to care. he’s told you with a roguish wink and a hushed whisper that today’s special, today’s the day you’ll remember, today’s a good day. dragging you out of the room and into the hallway, he marches you towards a parlour with an adjoining piano chamber where mother once played. he locks the door behind him, ushers you towards the connecting door to the room nearby, and kneels before you.

“i can only do this much, milady, i’m sorry i’m powerless to do more,” he says, despite the confusion swimming in your eyes. then, he tears away from the contact, keying in three sharp knocks at the door. “she’s here, lady mnemosyne. i brought her, as promised.”

your eyes widen. and tears flood your eyes just as easily.

mnemosyne.

mother.

mama.

“no—“ comes mama’s voice from the other side of the door, stifling a sob. “no, no, don’t say that, byron. thank you, thank you so much for thinking this up for us.”

pressed against the door, you couldn’t feel her warmth. not anymore. but hearing her voice is enough to make up for the distance in between. eyes brimming with unshed tears, your voice comes out as a warble of words, words that were unintelligible, words that had byron laughing, words that even mama hiccupped with laughter. but words were all you had before—and now, byron too.

“I’M SO TIRED!” PROMPTO WHINES from his spot on the hardwood floor. He flops backward with a thump, lying spread eagle as sweat continues dripping off his skin. “Gladio, don’t you have an easy mode or something!? I can’t beat you like this!”

“That’s the whole point. You’re not supposed to beat me.” The taller, brusque man mutters under his breath. “Not that you can, anyway.”

“Whaa—then what’s the point of our training?!”

Wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt, Ignis steals a glance at his wristwatch, tuning out the rest of their bantering. 8.57 p.m., just several minutes shy of nine, which means he’ll have some time to make preparations for dinner after locking up the training room. As part of the Crownsguard, their training drill takes up most of Noctis’ night, seeing that the prince himself is busy juggling his studies with Prompto. It’s a cycle of swords clashing against shield, daggers soaring through the air, and Gladio barking out orders left and right.

Adjusting his slipping gloves, Ignis tosses a look at Noctis, who’s chugging down a bottle of water. “Well then, let’s clean up and hurry home. The later we return, the later dinner will be served.”

But Noctis seems to be having other plans. “Sorry, Specs, I’m taking Prom and Gladio with me.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, setting down the bottle. “We’re going to raid some dungeons upstairs.”

Upstairs only meant one thing: The 56th floor, the room of the strategist’s prisoner.

As much as Ignis wanted to say he’s seen this coming, he knows it does little to remedy the situation. Restricting the prince from doing whatever he wants will only result in the situation backfiring, and he’s saying that from experience. The foreboding feeling from Ignis’ heart doesn’t go away even if you presented yourself as a harmless lass; he’s seen snakes twining around apples before, hiding poison in their fangs. The moment you strike will mark Noctis’ downfall. And by then, it might be too late for him to retract his actions.

At the very least, Ignis supposes he could divert Noctis’ attention. “Noct, King’s Knight can wait.”

“Nope, can’t wait,” Gladio pipes up, hoisting his broadsword and returning it to the brackets by the wall. He’s met with Ignis’ silent eyes, completely glossing over the warning signs of his stiff posture. “Saw these kids getting their Ravager—“

“Revenant! It’s Revenant!” Prompto squawks. “Get it right, old man!”

“—yeah, whatever weapon that was,” the Shield brushes it off, “so I’m jealous as hell. We’re definitely gonna do some serious raiding tonight.”

Prompto isn’t remotely helping the situation either. He’s stowing his guns away with a flicker of Noctis’ magic, fragments of light bouncing off the hardwood floor. “Mhmm! We’ve got a really strong Kaliva on our team too! It’ll be a cinch, big guy.”

“Heh, you mean that Quintus’ daughter, right?” he grouses, retrieving Noctis’ own training sword to store it in its rightful place. “She plays Kaliva?”

Prompto bounces on his feet, chiming in. “Yeah—she’s pretty weird, but she’s like a talking King’s Knight Encyclopaedia or something.”

“Like how you’re a talking chocobo, huh?” Noctis looks on, taking another swig of his drink, a lopsided grin seizing his lips.

“Noct, buddy, chocobos are cool. I’m honoured with your compliment.” The blond snorts, obviously offended. “We had this talk before, remember? Sheesh.”

He’s only met with a roll of Noctis’ eyes. “That wasn’t a compliment but whatever. C’mon, let’s go.”

Things aren’t supposed to go this way. Noctis should have agreed with him and acquiesced with nary a protest on his lips, tempted by the promise of dinner with his friends. Only, his circle of friends might be expanding—will be expanding—has expanded, more likely. Dinner for four no longer whets his appetite. Dinner for five, a dinner with a prisoner of fate, with much laughter and more smiles. An incredibly disconcerting prospect, that’s for sure.

And Ignis only prays it doesn’t escalate more than this.

Rubbing his nape, he swallows all his dissents and seals them behind his lips, clearing his throat. “At the very least, let me grab the groceries from your car first. Noct, your keys, please.”

NIGHT FALLS OVER INSOMNIA, an assemblage of stars spreading over the skies. Rich, black velvet studded with Swarovski, you think to yourself, as you lean against the window.

Suffocating. Empty. Silence.

Your computer screen glows bright in your dim room, like a beacon of light in this solitude. This jarring silence could be banished if you played a selection of mother’s favourites. Debussy, Ravel, Satie—anything, as long as it chases these thoughts away, keeping them firmly locked from your eyes. But no. Thinking about mother hurts. The exquisite pain she bestows upon you—memories of her smile, her voice, her scent—everything hurts you tonight.

Nineteen long years in isolation should’ve taught you how to cope with this. The darkness should’ve been your friend. The silence should’ve been a constant in your life. The sorrow should’ve been your shield.

Was father truly right all along? That you were but a weak, wretched child of his, and you couldn’t compare to a son. A son would’ve been stronger, impervious to loneliness, emotionally detached from worldly things. A son would’ve done him proud. A son is what you’re not. A son does not think, he acts. A son is fit to lead an empire while a daughter plays the part of a wife. A son is the symbol of strength, and a daughter is the emblem of calamity. A son is a son, and a daughter is a daughter.

Even if you fought like a son, you were still a daughter.

Nothing could change it.

Tearing your gaze away from the glittering cityscape, you run your fingers over the filigreed cover of a book in your lap. Across the forest of silver, a name stands out.

Titus Andronicus.

By chance, Byron had picked it up from a second-hand corner in Laellum many years back. Like a namesake, he laughs when he thrust the book in your hands. Byron never got around to telling you the price, though you suspect it’s worth a whole month’s salary or more, judging from the gilded embellishments scattered on its spine. Always so secretive, he dodges the question the moment your tongue curls with the weight of it. You turn the book over in your hands, a wry smile crossing your lips before you realise it.

Titus Andronicus and House of Andronicus.

The Astrals must’ve been snickering when they scripted your fate, naming your life after a tragic tale.

You barely have the time to react when there comes a succession of footsteps stopping beyond your door, laughter, laughter, and more laughter resonating in the hallway. You’ve never heard this many people before, like a stampede of dualhorns you saw on television. Someone pushes the door open and pale light illuminates his features, highlighting the shaggy strands of dark hair, turning blue eyes gleaming black.

You didn’t need to look further to know the silhouette belongs to—

“You asleep already?”

—him.

A hand reaches out for the switch and lights come on with a click. You wince at the shock of white entering your vision, closing your eyes and rubbing over your eyelids. Ouch.

“Woah! Lucky, she’s still up! C’mon guys, we’re gonna party tonight!”

“Huh. She’s smaller than Iris.”

“Be polite, Gladio. We are intruding on someone’s home, after all.”

“Technically, it’s Noct’s place though.”

Voices. You’ve heard them before. Three familiar voices, and a new one, rich and low. By right, it should’ve surprised you when you opened your eyes once more, staring at the doorway. Overcrowded, four men in varying shades of clothes, Noctis already with his boots set aside, Prompto jumping around on one foot as he tries to get his socks off, Ignis in the background, and a behemoth-man whose massive forearms are fiercely inked.

What is this?

“Um.” You start, only to realise you’ve got nothing to say when Noctis fixes you a blank look. “Um—wait. Why are all of you here?”

Prompto’s smile is wide enough when he kicks off his offending socks and stumbles into the room, holding out his phone. “It’s King’s Night, duh!”

You open your mouth, then closed it with a click at the pun. It must’ve looked dumb, because he laughs at your face and makes a beeline for the television. Wetting your dry lips, you try again. “No—wait, that’s not what I meant. I mean, what are you guys doing here?” You point at Noctis for emphasis. “Didn’t you say you wanted to text the room ID?”

Like any of this isn’t his fault, the prince just follows Prompto from behind and settles down on his favourite spot closest to your gaming console. “You said ‘see you later.’  Thought you meant we should meet up here.”

What a blatant lie. He clearly knows more than he’s letting on, albeit expertly masking it behind feigned indifference.

Ignis sidesteps the strange behemoth-man, already having removed his shoes and socks as per custom before entering your room. In his arms are grocery bags spilling with vegetables, wrapped meat, and other condiments, settling them on your small kitchen counter. “I’ll make something quick for all of us. Will sandwiches be sufficient for tonight?”

“Just leave out the veggies for our prince,” the hulking mass of muscle rumbles, shutting the door behind him. “I sure as hell don’t wanna be the one scraping his vegs clean tonight.”

“Neither do I.” Ignis replies just as easily, picking apart everything your humble kitchenette had to offer. Pots, pans, ladles and bowls, he’s probably doing a little logistics at the stuff in your cupboards before deeming it satisfactory. “Looks like we’re in luck. I’ll put in a side of stew as well, if sandwiches aren’t enough.”

“That’ll be great!” Prompto crows in excitement as the theme song of King’s Knight blares from his phone. He looks past Noctis, who’s already logging in the game, and you find yourself staring right at him, blank. “Hey—c’mon, Architect guy, let’s get started already! We’re sooooo gonna get that five-star drop tonight!”

Architect guy?

—oh.

You never got around to telling them your name, did you?

“Yeah, c’mon, Quintus’—whatever you are.” Behemoth-man waves you over, already settling down comfortably between Noctis and Prompto, holding out his own phone. “These five-star drops aren’t gonna fall from the skies by themselves, y’know. Start farmin’.”

The noise level in your room is off the roof—louder than what you’ve blasted from your speakers. A cacophony of human laughter, indignant shouts, and motherlike chastising, paired with Noctis’ judgmental look at his companions. A broken symphony of cut-off words overlapping with arguments and dares from one another. An unfamiliar and deafening noise you’ve never heard before. Prompto talks and behemoth-man cuts him off, erupting into more laughter. Noctis drops into a scowl and Prompto nails him in the side, then behemoth-man chuckles when Ignis sends off a warning look.

Everyone’s here.

Acquaintances and strangers alike.

Do they care about your name? No, you suspect not. Do they want anything to do with your father? No, you suppose not either. Amidst all the chaos, the prince turns over to look at you and rubs his nape. The look in his eyes is a brush of familiarity in its quietness. You’ve never seen that kind of look before.

And when he speaks, he speaks so softly you might not have heard him at all.

“So, what’s the room ID?”

IT MIGHT’VE BEEN A MISTAKE when Noctis gets up from the floor, making his way to your kitchenette just to grab some soda from the fridge for their five-minute break. Something thick and silver gleams underneath your table lamp, highlighting the curl of its sheen and unveiling its age. An old book, he thinks, and almost pays no mind to it until his eyes slip from the spine to its cover.

Titus Andronicus.

That stops him in his tracks.

He’s never heard of the book before, in all the exercise drills his private tutors made him memorise in his earlier years. But the name Andronicus puts him on the spot. Was it a fictitious tale penned by a poet? Or was it a book detailing the skeletons of the Andronici, the proud males who stood as strategists for the Lucian kings? Curiosity shouldn’t have seized his heart, but his detour to your desk catches both yours and Ignis’ interest, each pair of eyes boring down heavily on his back.

Picking up the deceptively heavy tome, he takes in the elaborate scrollwork sprawling over the cover, burying the title under silvery vines. Fingers then picked through the ageing papers, catching the names composing the play.

Titus. Bassianus. Lavinia. Quintus.

It’s a name he’s familiar with.

Quintus Andronicus.

“Something caught your interest, Prince?” you call out from across the room, sotto voce. Your question is slow, calculated, manipulative in nature. That much, Noctis knows, because he’s put his nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. But it’s too late to put it away now, not when he’s sniffed out something.

He keeps his inflection flat as his fingers skim through the weary pages, pretending that Ignis isn’t adjusting his glasses simply because he wants to. “Titus Andronicus.” His voice has gone quiet. “Looks interesting. What’s it about?”

Noctis half expects the answer to come from you since you owned the book, but his advisor lends his thoughts to the matter instead.

“It’s a play written by a certain playwright several hundred years ago,” says Ignis, delivering a brief history lesson as he expertly flips a sandwich in a pan. “A grotesque tragedy, if I must summarise its contents.”

Noctis lowers the book and scans your expression from the corners of his eyes. He’s seen you in various states of unsmiling before, being the sleepy child you are, but this time it’s different. It’s a vacant look. Eyes placed on him, yet not quite on him. Seeing past his skin, digging into the gelatinous depression of his eyeballs, fingernails delving into his brain. You’re picking him apart, he realises, to look for answers when he’s only coming up with one.

“Sounds bloody.” Prompto makes a retching sound at the back of his throat. “Is it violent? Full of gore?”

“Violent and bloody, yes. A vicious cycle of revenge that ends in unhappiness, as all tragedies are.”

What a depiction. An exceedingly unsettling depiction of the play, thanks to Ignis’ excessive narration. Plays aren’t usually Noctis’ thing, even if his old tutors are groaning at him in exasperation at the back of his head. Standard royalty tuition classes come bundled with public school, since it is expected for a prince to be well-versed in the classics as much as King Regis was, no matter his waning interest in it. Yet, there is something about Titus Andronicus that Noctis should probe deeper if he wants to dig out the skeletons under your name.

You’ve gone silent since your first question, withdrawing into your world of King’s Knight again. Tapping relentlessly on the screen, probably going through a dungeon raid on your own as you tune out the rest of the world. Gladio doesn’t seem to bother much about the conversation, scrolling through his phone on another journey in the game. But somehow, Ignis’ depiction of Titus Andronicus roams the prince’s thoughts with more guesswork, and he only sets down the book in its rightful place again.

“Not my kind of thing.” Noctis dismisses the topic, and resumes his expedition to your fridge.

He doesn’t miss how your attention diverts from the game, furtively trailing after him from your desk to the fridge, tracing up the curve of his spine when he bends over to fish a cold can out from the bottom tier, cracking it open. But just as soon as he finishes gulping down its contents, flicking it into your dustbin, you’ve turned away from him, reverting into the hollow husk of a human you are.

[tbc.]

thanks for sticking around through all the boring and long process of worldbuilding! shit gets real in next chapter 8) hope everyone’s ready for more plot! this fic is pre-canon which will venture into canon soon enough, and i’m a grandma who keeps forgetting the stuff i write ;;v;; at the moment, i'm on chapter 13 and so much fluff aaah <3 but there are also bad things as well, so. oh no.

PREVIEW:

It’s just a simple word. Good. Yet Byron knows you’ve been starved of attention, of acknowledgement. The feeling of being recognised, being wanted for something, being given something—just like the abandoned child you are. Even if Noctis is feeding you scraps of praises from his outstretched hand, you’re nothing but a ravenous mongrel eager to lap it all up, licking all over his palm and sucking off his fingers.

In all of your disgusting desperation, there is beauty in how you gaze at the prince, the wide-eyed ingénue you are.