#also this is actually a month late with no. 3 (which judging by the cover will also have MK) slotted to have been released | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itgirlification · 4 years ago

Text

supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.�� You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there may I request the Dimitrescu daughters celebrating their s/o birthday, it’s my birthday today☺️

Happy belated birthday, anon!!! Wishing you many more happy (and hopefully less chaotic) years to come! Under read more for length.

Bela + Birthday

On one hand, she wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up. On the other hand, she’s got a million things planned, and no matter how much help she enlists, she’s bound to end up running late. So maybe she’s not the first thing you see, but she’s crawling into your bed before you have a chance to fully wake up. Wrapping her arms around you, murmuring ‘good morning’ and ‘I love you’ into your ears. Sleepy kisses all around<3

Will stay with you for as long as you want, but will ‘subtly’ encourage you to get up eventually, after all she’s spent the past month planning this day. It’s possible that she’ll end up slowly sliding out of bed, an inch a minute, saying ‘no more kisses until you get up’.

Once you’re out of bed, it’s time for a decadent breakfast. A whole buffet table filled with your favorites (the ones appropriate for this time of day, at least), with any servants you’re friends with being allowed to join in. If you’re not from Romania, Bela will go out of her way to have the cooks learn recipes from whatever country you grew up in. Might throw in a few non-breakfast items too. Mmmm, thinking about my family’s krumkake recipe now, so good<3

What happens next depends a lot on your specific personality. If you enjoy parties and social gatherings, there will be festivities in one of the castle’s larger rooms, again with any of your friends being allowed to join (even visitors from the village, should you wish to invite them). A large cake will be served, likely baked by none other than Ava Caldwell (please excuse my shameless OC mention).

If you’re more introverted, or shy, Bela will keep the gathering very small, likely just her family and you. There will be music, a few gifts from the family, similar but smaller treats. Less energetic, more casual and comfy family time.

Come lunch time, the two of you will have some private time again. Depending on weather/season, she’ll either take you for a picnic in the garden, or a quiet meal in the observatory. Think candles, lots of strategically placed flowers, warm blankets… all that cheesy stuff. Afterwards, she’ll let you take the reins for a bit. Essentially, you’ll spend some quality time doing your favorite hobbies together. Feel free to info dump/rant all you want, Bela will stare at you with love in her eyes regardless of the subject.

Once you’ve had your fun together, it’ll be time for dinner, which will once more be with her family. Everyone will be on their best behavior (under threat of blackmail, except for Alcina, who’s just, you know, a good mother who wants her daughter to be happy). Again the cooks will go all out for the meal, making whatever dishes weren’t appropriate for breakfast. There will probably be leftovers- unless, of course, you decide to let the other servants enjoy what you cannot finish.

Finally, before bed, Bela will let you open the gifts from her. The two of you will be in either her room or her private study, away from everyone else. She’ll have prepared 3 gifts for you. One will relate to your personal interests (a hobby, a movie/book series you love, etc), one will be something the two of you can do together, and the last will be something you can wear/keep on you to remind you of her (not that you could ever forget, really).

I’ll leave the detail of what happens that night to your imagination, dear reader, so as to not assume anything about *ahem* attractions, gender, or any possible… deviances (kinks, if that wasn’t clear). Regardless, there is cuddling<3

Cassandra + Birthday

Wakes you up, first thing in the morning, with kisses. Just crawls into bed with you and smothers you in somewhat sleepy affection. Do you know how hard it was for her to get up at this hour? Relatively! Which is why you’re not allowed to get up get up, at least not for a while. Mandatory girlfriend snuggles. No escape. If the two of you are, ya know, of the persuasion to do certain things… without clothing… then yeah, that’s probably also happening. Please don’t judge me, I’m tired (and asexual) and am trying to avoid this being unnecessarily ns/fw.

Doesn’t really want to share you at all, even on your birthday, but will let you mingle with friends/have a nice group breakfast if that’s what you want. Just expect to be sitting in her lap for as long as she can get you to, alright? Might tone it down if her family is around (okay, well, if her mother is around). Will pretend to judge people for whatever gifts they get you unless you specifically ask her to stop. Repeatedly whispers things in your ears to distract you, ranging from the audaciously inappropriate to “my gift is going to be so much better than that” to very sweet “I love you”s.

Lets you plan as much or as little as you want for your special day, though won’t hesitate to suggest things if you struggle to come up with stuff/can’t decide. Again, she’d prefer to spend as much of the day with you as possible, and would prefer your gatherings be very small. Like, maybe just the two of you. Going on a hike to your favorite spot, or painting together (even if you don’t know what you’re doing, because she’ll get nice and close to help ;) ), or just curling up with her somewhere cozy.

Whatever you end up doing for the day, she’ll probably have a servant pack you guys some lunches, so you don’t have to interrupt whatever you’re doing.

Dinner will be… a surprise. Planning is not her area of expertise, so Cassandra will enlist the help of her older sister, resulting in a romantic meal that, well, at least has hints of your girlfriend’s personality in it. Yes, she picked out the color of the napkins. Yes, the flowers she had asked for turned out to be poisonous, so yes they did have to swap them out last minute. Oops, you darn humans and your ‘mortal weaknesses’. Honestly, the display is very touching. She asked for help to do something nice for you<3

At the end of the night, she’ll take you to her art studio, where there’s a big painting that’s been covered up for a few days or so. She’ll pull the sheet off, oddly shy, and you’ll see it’s a lovely portrait of the two of you… except you’ll be wearing a necklace that you’ve never seen before. Which Cassandra will quickly pull out of her pocket, to give you as the second part of your gift :D

Cue a night of cuddling (and possibly other activities… such as sleeping).

Daniela + Birthday

Might as well bodyslam you first thing in the morning, honestly. She’s very excited, and loves you very much, and just wants to have some nice morning cuddling (and kissing). Solution? Make sure that she spends the previous night in the same bed as you. Seriously, it’ll save you a fair amount of pain.

Has the least planned of the three, despite having the most ideas, mostly because she struggles to actually organize things. Expect to spend however long you want in bed, just relaxing, probably still with lots of kisses and cheesy dialogue about how much she loves you. When you get up, however, the two of you will be surprised to see that Daniela’s family decided to help her get shit together.

There will be a nice breakfast, with your friends present, and Bela might even delay her own meal just to play some music for you. Afterwards, the family will give you their gifts. They won’t make you open them yet if you decide to save it for later, though, so no worries.

Then, you and Daniela will be encouraged to go out and have some fun. Which means a nice almost-picnic in the gardens, with less of a meal, more of some sweets/snackies. Cue more cuddling, and dorky poetry reading. The poetry will always start out serious… but by the end you’ll both be trying to find the lamest, cheesiest poems you can get, reading them to each other in increasingly ridiculous voices. Somehow you’ll end up reciting dirty limericks. Eventually you realize that Daniela isn’t even going through her books to find them, and is actually making them up as she goes. You’re not sure you want to know how she gained this skill.

Eventually you’ll head back inside, for lunch. At this point, there will be more music, some optional dancing, with a surprising amount of servants being allowed to just enjoy themselves. If parties aren’t your thing, Daniela will be more than willing to sneak you off somewhere more… private. For various reasons, you know. Doesn’t have to be anything more than cuddling. But this is Daniela we’re talking about, so…

The evening will mostly be up to you, with Daniela wanting to do whatever you want to do, even if it’s not something she’d normally enjoy. She just wants you to be happy<3

Dinner will be romantic, like with Cassandra, if admittedly far more chaotic. Still, it’s very lovely, and she’ll probably get adorably flustered as she tries to make things perfect for you. Expect her to get you multiple smaller gifts, and repeatedly mention that she wasn’t sure what to get you, so she kinda just… got everything. It might be best to reassure her that you mostly care about spending time with her. But, you know, also tell her you enjoy the gifts because she really did panic about them.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu

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pettyrevenge-base · 3 years ago

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Insult your head closer instead of give a raise? Yeah, sure, there's no way that'll backfire.

In the late 90's I worked at a Subway restaurant; specifically closing shift. That'll be relevant later. At the time I was paid somewhere between 7 and 8 bucks an hour, a good chunk more than minimum wage, and had me bringing my A game every day. I knew it was "just fast food", but I took pride in my work. I showed up early, always covered when people called in, followed the recipes (even the really anal stuff like two slices of black olive per 6" sub unless the customer specifically requests more, etc.) By all accounts, I was a model employee. Plus since I worked alone I was the de facto shift supervisor. That's gotta be worth something. I figured I'd ask the regional manager for a raise. (Store manager didn't have the authority.) The worst he can do is say no, right?

Wrong.

Turns out the worst he can do is insult me and everyone else that works there. He was in one day and I made my pitch. He just went off on me, raising his voice shy of a full yell and saying something like "If you were worth more, you wouldn't be working here. You're replaceable, now go away and don't ever speak to me again. I'm the regional manager, and I'm actually important, you just make sandwiches and scrub toilets." Again, not the exact words, but he did make those points quite clearly. I remember being shocked into silence at such a cartoonish display of arrogance coming out of a balding middle-aged man. First time I'd ever encountered a .50 caliber douchebag. I didn't even specify an amount, I just asked for a raise. He could've given me a nickel, or even made something up like "I'm sorry wages are set by corporate, I can't do it" and while I'd have been disappointed I'd have accepted it. But no, his response to the very concept of any raise was a pretentious, self-righteous indictment against the value of every Subway employee that wasn't management. Or probably him specifically. I'd genuinely enjoyed working there, right up until that watershed moment.

OK Cheese-Dick, if that's how you want it, fine. I'll get mine, one way or another. I take pride in my work, but 7-something an hour isn't enough to engender any further loyalty after you so flippantly insulted me and everyone working for you.

Up until that point I had been meticulous about everything I did at work. Like I mentioned earlier closing shift was a one-man show, which meant I had no supervision. My effectiveness was judged based on the accuracy of my inventory numbers, counting my till, my clock-out times, and whether everything was in order when the openers arrived in the morning. I knew a few tricks to offset inventory, which allowed me to take home food without it being noticed. (Ring up a small soda as a cheese round since they were both 89 cents, etc.) On a good night I'd take home a dozen or more footlong subs. On a bad night, I'd just make sandwiches with the loaf of bread I brought from home. I'd also bring in a bunch of empty bottles or jugs, and fill them from the fountain after clocking out. I'd dump entire cambros full of meat, veggies and cheese into a bag to take home. Sometimes I'd bake an oven full of cookies with the express purpose of taking them, if I could do so without using up the rest of a box. (Because a box with one raw cookie was counted the same as an unopened box.)

The moment he made it clear what I was worth to him, I started looking for a different job. If he'd given me a token 3% cost of living increase, it'd have amounted to maybe 25 cents per hour. They had me working around 30-35 hours a week, just below "full time", so it would've amounted to under 9 bucks a week. Hell, he could've even offered a sincere apology and no raise and I would've kept on with it. Instead for the last few months I worked there, every single night I took home what probably amounted to a couple hundred dollars worth of potential sales. Every. Single. Night.

At the time my friends and I, being late teens/early 20's, were still in the party phase of our lives. So every night I worked for those last months I'd roll up just as the party was getting wild, with a bunch of sandwiches, cookies, gallons of soda, etc. Those few months doing the bare minimum and sponging off that dead-end job were way more satisfying than giving my all for 7 and change for an insufferable bag of septic slop.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

#pettyrevenge #lol #omg

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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Twenty

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: sorry for the wait yall this month really kicked my ass,, but also we reached part 20!!

tw infertility discussion

***

Gwyn: isn’t he beautiful <3

In the freezing February air outside the tea house, Nesta clicks on the picture attached to Gwyn’s text. It’s a distant shot of a man in his mid-thirties hunched over a library desk while working, unaware that there’s a camera on him. She’ll give it to Gwyn, though—he is a little handsome.

Emerie: the stalker levels are through the roof, gwyneth. seek help.

Gwyn: no i’m gonna marry him

Nesta doesn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned, but she types out a brief response before her thumbs fall off from the cold: Will give my opinion on him later. Got to go.

Gwyn’s crush will have to wait, Nesta thinks as she finally puts her phone away and pushes her way inside the exquisite tea house. Immediately, blasting heat thaws her frozen fingers and toes, and farther inside she spots the table she reserved for three. Right now, only one person sits at it.

Nesta grits her teeth and approaches the round table, heels clicking softly on the parquet floors. Elain doesn’t look up from the menu she’s reading. “This place would be nicer to visit in the spring,” is her only acknowledgment of Nesta.

“I like the winter,” Nesta answers simply, taking her seat across from Elain. She likes how the ice creeps over the garden outside until everything looks frozen in time, and she likes how the colorful flowers and trees become dulled by white snow. Not that her sister would understand or care.

“Of course you do,” Elain mutters, setting down the menu with all the careful elegance of a debutante. “I’m only here for Feyre, anyway.”

It almost saddens Nesta that she doesn’t feel hurt or offense at the words. She thought she would care more about Elain’s opinion than she actually does. “Where is Feyre, then?” she says, looking pointedly at the empty seat between them. “I thought she was coming with you.”

“I’m right here,” a breathless voice says, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps. Feyre appears, looking flushed from exertion and the cold. She sets her bag down and joins them at the table, scooting her seat all the way in. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Nesta bites. “I was just about to order.”

“So was I.” Elain smiles breezily.

Feyre glances between the two of them, clear concern on her face, but she covers it up and says, “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

It was Feyre’s idea, of course. After Nesta told her off for never being interested in what she wanted to do, Feyre actually listened. She asked if Nesta wanted to hang out, and then let Nesta fill in the rest of the details on her own terms.

Which brings them to the tea house. Unfortunately for her sisters, however, Nesta doesn’t really know where to go from ordering tea and biscuits.

“How is school going?” Feyre asks her after their drinks arrive.

Nesta sips from her tea, already bored. “It’s been fifteen minutes and you have yet to say anything of substance, Feyre. It makes me miss being alone with Elain and her mood.”

Feyre looks taken aback, and Elain levels a glare at Nesta. An unsurprised, of course you have to ruin everything like this glare.

So Nesta clarifies, “That wasn’t an attack. I just hoped that after driving out here, I would get something better than shallow small talk.”

“And how do you know it was shallow?” Elain steps in harshly. “How do you know she isn’t actually interested in how you’re doing at school?”

Nesta slides blunt blue eyes to Feyre. “If that’s the case, then I commend you. Personally, I wouldn’t give a shit if I was in your position.”

To her surprise, Feyre snorts. She looks resigned when she says, “No, you’re right. I don’t care about what’s going on at school, not if you don’t. What would you rather we talk about then, Nesta?”

Without hesitation, Nesta says, “Ask me something you really care to hear the answer to.”

Elain shuts her mouth and sits back at that. Feyre twists her lips, thinking her next words over carefully. “How is your therapy going?” she finally asks in a cautious tone. “What do you talk about there?”

Remembering that she’s in a formal setting, Nesta stops herself from crossing her arms. She settles on wrapping her fingers delicately around her teacup instead. “We talk about whatever I feel like talking about,” she answers honestly. Although lately her conversations with Lana feel more restrained than usual.

“And what’s that?” Feyre urges.

Nesta shrugs, fitting apathy onto her face like an old mask. “Recently? Childbearing.” But it isn’t her favorite topic of discussion, not at all.

“You’re pregnant?” Elain jumps in, leading Nesta to throw her an unamused look.

“No, idiot,” she says. “My therapist just has the idea that if I end up being infertile it’ll screw me up, mentally and emotionally and whatever. She thinks I should deal with that baggage now instead of saving it for later.” She rolls her eyes thinking about it. How many times does she have to repeat that she doesn’t care about her body’s reproductive abilities until Lana gets it?

Feyre chuckles, confused. “Why would you be infertile?”

Nesta forgot—she didn’t want her sisters knowing anything that has to do with her health. She even made Cassian keep her doctor visits secret from Feyre. But that was months ago, and the sisters are… not exactly in a better place now, but looking for the way there. Nesta thinks she can tell them without any severe regrets. “I have endometriosis.”

When she’s met with silence, she adds, “You know, with the tissue growing on my ovaries and stuff. It might affect all the babies I don’t care to have in the future.”

Elain is the first to speak. “You always wanted to be a mother.” Her voice is soft, almost mourning. It irritates the hell out of Nesta.

“No, I didn’t,” she snaps back.

“You did,” Elain insists. Feyre still hasn’t said anything. “You took care of our cat, Mittens, until the day she died. You taught Feyre her alphabet. You raised me when Mama and Papa were too busy to do it. You never carried dolls around in strollers or anything, but you loved being a mother.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Feyre says, blinking. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the endometriosis part?”

Nesta sips from her tea, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from Elain’s words. “What about it?”

“How long have you known?” Feyre demands.

“It isn’t cancer. And I’m getting treated, obviously. I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Nesta sighs, setting her cup down. “October. Cassian made me go to the doctor because he was worried about my periods, we had a big fight about health insurance, and now I use my salary from your boyfriend to afford medication so I don’t feel like dying every month. Is that everything you wanted to hear?”

Feyre only stares at her, for once revealing no emotion. “I keep forgetting,” she says finally, “that we’re not at a place to share things like that with each other. I keep being surprised every time I realize how much of your life you keep from us.”

“I don’t,” Elain huffs under her breath while she tears a croissant in half.

Nesta is still watching Feyre. “You remember how bad my cycles were? I would cry loud enough at night to wake the house.”

Feyre flinches at the memory, and Elain goes still.

“But no one ever woke up,” Nesta says. They never talked about it before, and she has no desire to keep speaking about it now. If they start to tally all the hurts they’ve dealt to each other, Nesta fears they’ll be here for hours. Worse, she fears she will lose.

She reaches for a lavender macaron and delicately pulls it apart, studying the cream filling inside. “Did you know they make these using the lavender flowers from the garden outside?”

“I hate lavender,” Elain says.

Spying her chance to shift the subject off herself, Nesta goes for it. “Because Azriel smells like lavender?” She pushes one half of the dainty cookie past her lips, chewing. “It’s an interesting cologne choice, I agree.”

“Wait, what are we talking about now?” Feyre looks around, unaware that they’ve moved onto another topic.

Elain’s innocent brown eyes turn into daggers pointed at Nesta, betrayal written across her face. Nesta feels no pity for her—especially not if they’re going to sit around judging each other for keeping secrets.

Feyre’s eyes widen and she turns to Elain. “Is it about your,” she lowers her voice and whispers, “crush?”

Nesta raises a skeptical brow. She doubts whatever Az and Elain have stops at just a crush.

“No, it’s not,” Elain answers determinedly. “God, do you have to bring men into everything, Nesta?”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Quit it,” Feyre snaps at the both of them. “Or I’ll grab my things and leave.”

Do it, Nesta almost dares. But she has a feeling that Feyre means it, that she won’t submit to being taunted, so Nesta reins the words back from the tip of her tongue. After all, this tea is expensive.

The sisters take a moment to settle, and Feyre is the one to restart the conversation. “Either way,” she tells Nesta, “it looks like counseling is going really well for you. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it really gives your skin a certain glow,” Elain drawls.

Nesta doesn’t rise to meet her sarcasm. In all seriousness, Elain and Feyre could probably use a therapist themselves. It might make Nesta’s interactions with them less headache-inducing.

“You should visit one day,” she throws the suggestion out without thinking.

“What, like a therapy session?” Feyre says.

Realizing the implications of her terrible idea, Nesta forces herself not to backpedal. “Yes,” she makes herself grit out. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Elain and Feyre share a glance of hesitation and concern. It’s a glance that grates on Nesta’s nerves, but she keeps her mouth shut and waits for a response.

Feyre answers first: “We’ll do it.”

Elain looks more doubtful, but seems to realize that refusing to go would paint her in a negative light. We can’t have that, can we? Nesta thinks wryly. She reaches for some macarons and starts stuffing them into her purse. “Sounds good. Great.” It is not at all great. Having her sisters in the same room as her and Lana might just be terrible enough to ruin Nesta’s next month or two.

“I’ll text you the details whenever I feel like it,” she tells Feyre and Elain as she rises out of her seat. Likely not for as long as possible.

“Where are you going?” Elain demands.

“I’m leaving.” Nesta pointedly drapes her coat over her shoulders, picking up her purse. “I have plans for the rest of the day, sorry.” Plans to get home and rate Gwyn’s work crush on a scale of one to ten. Maybe she’ll rewatch a sitcom if she has time.

“But it’s only been an hour,” Feyre protests.

Did Feyre think they would be spending the whole day together? Nesta wants to shudder at the mere idea of it, but she somehow… feels bad for her sister. “Maybe another time,” she promises vaguely. To provide some sort of reassurance, she adds, “I had fun today. Thanks for pulling this together.” The words are hollow, fake, and she’s probably a hypocrite for not being able to return the same sincerity she demanded from Feyre. But honesty isn’t going to get Nesta very far today, so this false politeness is the best she can manage.

Elain looks somewhat relieved, and Feyre looks disappointed but unsurprised. “Alright.” The girls nod at her. “Get home safe.”

She turns and leaves as soon as she’s given the green light.

A stale scent greets Nesta when she enters her apartment, reminding her that she hasn’t been around in days. In her defense, the winter months are easier to bear in Cassian’s heated cabin than in a poorly insulated basement.

Flicking the lights on, Nesta books it to the thermostat, her teeth nearly chattering out of her body. After turning the heat as high as it can go, she climbs beneath the covers of her bed without bothering to take her coat off. She doesn’t take out her phone to text the groupchat like she promised she would. She doesn’t even get her laptop to turn Netflix on. Rather, her focus is caught on the framed picture of her and Cassian sitting atop the dresser.

Everything was okay as she stepped out of the tea house. It wasn’t until she was inside her car that it came upon her: the whirlwind of emotions that had stayed so carefully hidden while she chatted with her sisters. All throughout the drive home, her mind kept returning to that one topic. Children.

Elain said that Nesta used to genuinely enjoy playing substitute mother when they were children, and she was right. But that was all fun and games, like playing teacher. What Elain left out was what happened after their actual mother died and their father went into debt, leaving all three girls in need of a parent figure. Nesta wasn’t a mother then—or at least, not a good one.

Now, she stares at the picture full of smiley cheeks and windblown hair, remembering the night that she realized she wanted to hold Cassian’s hand in hers.

She can’t imagine Cassian not wanting kids. They’ve never discussed it, but it’s so obvious to anyone who’s ever met him: he has too much love to give away to not one day end up with a whole brood of children. The thought makes Nesta’s stomach churn.

***

“Thanks again, guys.” Cassian shakes hands with his team as they file out of the conference room, all of them dressed professionally while he lingers in his hoodie. As soon as the last worker is out the door, he pulls out his phone, ready to shoot Nesta a message. She met up with her sisters alone today for the first time in a year, and he can’t wait any longer to find out if their brunch ended in a fight or not.

He clicks on his phone to find two texts from his brother, sent not too long ago.

Rhys: You’re in the office today for the monthly check-in, right?

Rhys: Don’t leave after the meeting is over. I’ll be there in an hour to introduce you to the new guy heading the Milan project.

Cassian frowns, confused. Rhys and the new guy are coming all the way up here to meet him? He didn’t know he was that important to the project.

While he waits for his unexpected guests, Cassian texts Nesta twice, and only receives a single short response saying she got home safe. Resolving to call and have a real conversation with her later, he gets up to change into the spare buttondown and pressed slacks he keeps in a locker in his office. If Rhys wants him to play the part of company boss, then he might as well look the part.

He’s adjusting the cuffs of his dark-colored shirt when the door to his office opens without warning, and Rhysand strides in followed by a stiff-looking young man.

Cassian eyes the stranger up and down first, trying to get a read on him the way he’s seen Nesta and Rhys read others. He doesn’t come up with a single thing, as usual, but he hopes he achieved his goal of looking intimidating.

“Cass,” Rhys greets him with a subdued nod, in full CEO mode. “This is our new hire, Keith O’Connell. I snagged him from right under Vanserra & Co.’s noses.” His near-violet eyes gleam with pride. “He’s going to be working out of Milan for us starting this summer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Cassian smiles lazily, and this is something he doesn’t need to fake—confidence. He reaches out to shake Keith’s hand. “Hi. I’m Cassian Madani.”

“Good to meet you.” The other man shakes back, but his grip is too tight, like he’s trying to break Cassian’s hand. Try-hard, a voice that sounds like Nesta tells him. Uses arrogance to cover up his insecurity.

Cassian takes it all into account as he pulls his hand away, seeing Keith through clearer eyes. His dark brown hair is slicked back with copious amounts of hair product, and a shrewd black gaze takes in every detail of the office. He stands like he’s attempting to seem taller than he actually is.

A typical white-collar worker looking for a way up the corporate ladder, Cassian concludes. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but there must be a reason Rhys is so excited about him.

“Keith is starting here at your branch next week,” Rhys is saying when Cassian refocuses.

He blinks, unsure if he heard correctly. “What, all the way out here?” Away from Velaris in this modest mountain town?

“We agreed it was best if you two work together as closely as possible while preparing for the summer launch. Since you can’t come to Velaris, that means Keith comes here.”

Cassian looks at Rhys in astonishment. He thought that once he rejected the Milan position, he’d cleaned his hands of the job for good. Clearly he was wrong. “Just how involved am I going to be on this project?”

Rhys grins back at him. “You’ll lead from home base, of course.”

Cassian glares. Rhys responds with a look that says they’ll talk about this later.

Keith seems to find the idea of working alongside another person as distasteful as Cassian finds it unexpected, but he says anyway, “I can’t wait to start working together. I have a lot of ideas for the Italian outpost that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m sure I will,” Cassian hums. “When do you start again?”

“Next Monday.”

“Then we should talk then.” Cassian gestures out the door. Keith looks taken aback, likely having expected more out of this meeting. But Cassian can’t meet with this guy until he gets a hold of what the fuck is going on. After shepherding Keith out of the office and shutting the door after him, he turns to Rhys with a raised brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rhys warns. “Your role in this project is serious.”

“This project isn’t even part of my job description. What am I supposed to know about international business conductions?”

“You know enough to keep an eye on that O’Connell kid for me.” Rhys leans against Cassian’s desk as if it’s his own and crosses his feet. “He’s an asset to the company, but he also worked for our competitors up to a couple of months ago. I can’t trust him to manage this thing on his own, and I don’t have the time or resources right now to watch over him myself. That’s why the duty falls to you.”

“I manage security,” Cassian states, in case it wasn’t obvious. “What about Az?”

“Az has his own things to handle.” Rhys waves him off. “Just do what I tell you to, will you? Pay attention to O’Connell for the duration of the Italy venture and make sure he doesn’t steer our ship off course. You’ll get paid triple for the extra hours.”

“I don’t need triple,” Cassian grumbles, but Rhys is no longer listening. He’s typing on his phone and already heading for the door.

“Feyre and I are having dinner here before heading back home,” he calls over his shoulder. “See you later; I believe in you!” The door shuts after him, leaving Cassian alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies to the empty room.

Cassian leaves not long after Rhysand does, having no excuse to linger. Outside, he’s greeted with a surprise leaning against the hood of his truck.

Nesta pushes off the hood as soon as he catches notice of her. “Long day?” she asks.

He laughs for the first time all afternoon, the sound surprised and genuine. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That’s why I’m here. I heard your thoughts.” There’s a light in her pale eyes that only burns whenever she looks at him. It’s the same light that powers her ability to make jokes and let her guard down around him in a way she can’t with most others, and Cassian is especially grateful for it today.

Nesta reaches out and takes his hand into hers. He watches the way their palms fit together in endless fascination, his brown fingers a stark contrast against her white ones. He squeezes once and looks back up at her. “How did meeting your sisters go? You never told me.”

The light flickers so briefly Cassian wonders if it’s a trick of his eyes. But then Nesta is there again, at full brightness. She squeezes his hand back. “Take me home. I’ll tell you all about it.”

***

a/n: i love writing stuff related to cassian’s job i’ll just be throwing random words in there and calling it business jargon

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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ajkal2 · 4 years ago

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the essay: childhood trauma, responsibility, and tma. part 1: jon

in a tma fic i published like six months ago, i left an authors note that promised an essay on jon and tim’s trauma to anyone who asked. several people asked, and so here i am!

the fic is called a deeply annoying child. it’s about being a kid and seeing something horrible, and it’s about jon and tim’s rocky relationship.

this post isn’t actually about the fic. it’s a breakdown of jon’s mental state through s1-3. im going to make another post about tim, and then a final one linking it all back to the fic. i’ll chuck links to those on here when they’re posted!

but first, let’s talk about my boy, JON ‘JARCHIVIST’ SIMS.

(fair warning- this isn’t a fully backed up meta post, it’s my interpretation of canon. any thoughts/queries/additions welcome! my askbox is always open <3)

part o: a note on guilt

hey, you know what’s fucked up? an eight-year-old kid with survivors guilt.

as a child, jon watched someone he knew die, due to circumstances that, while they were not his fault, were set in motion by his actions. children (and often teens!) think in black-and-white. complex logic often just doesn’t occur to them. jon, at 8, looks at what happened, and says that’s my fault. i did that. jon didn’t like his bully, and wanted him to go away, and then he did. that instinctive reaction is something i think he never grows out of. when you already hate yourself, it’s easy to pile more fuel onto that flame. he doesn’t think about risk, not to him, because he deserves whatever happens. he let someone die. he doesn’t ever forgive himself for that.

part i: belief (precanon+s1)

now, i have a headcanon about why jon doesn’t believe statement givers, and imma lay it all out for you right here.

when jon was 8, and freshly traumatised, i think he tried to tell someone what happened. beneath all the layers, jon is compassionate, and tries to help people. now, picture this. a kid, one with a history of troubled behaviour and an atypical home life, goes up to someone (a police officer, his carer, a teacher) and tells them a giant spider ate someone. what’s that person, someone who is a rational adult, someone who doesn’t believe in silly things, going to say back? are they going to believe that kid?

no. no way. they’re going to tell that kid that they’re making up stories, that they had a nightmare, that they should stop making jokes about someone who actually disappeared, jon, you need to be more sensitive about these things.

now, that kind of dissonance- ‘this did happen, it was real’ and ‘everyone i talk to is telling me it’s not real’- is hard on adults. to a kid? devastating.

jon, because he’s jon, would have been desperately searching for a way to explain this, and i think the thing he grabs on to is evidence. if he had some evidence of what happened, if he could prove what happened, people would believe him.*

but he doesn’t have evidence. and he resents that, and he resents that so much that by the time he’s an adult he’s settled into a mindset towards the supernatural somewhat akin to ‘i didn’t get believed, but you think you should be believed? what’s so good about you? you think you’re better than me?** fuck you! i don’t believe you!’ this is also a way of keeping himself safe. if the monsters aren’t real, they can’t hurt him.

and then, through s1, that mindset is chipped at. the statement givers start being real people, who come into jon’s office and cry when he dismisses them, and that clearly makes him uncomfortable. martin gives his statement, and martin has evidence. jon knows martin, and knows that he’s a good person, so martin having evidence isn’t likely to be an attack at jon.

jane prentiss attacks the institute, and then suddenly jon’s shield of denial and anger is ripped away, because the monsters are real, and they can hurt him.

*would they? i don’t know. people can be very attached to believing that the world is good, and kids are misguided, and there are a hundred thousand ways to explain away a piece of evidence, as jon comes to know well.

** this ties into jon’s self hatred, as people saying they are better than him kicks him right in the Issues.

part ii: paranoia (s2)

after prentiss attacks, jon is left floundering. his old I Do Not See It mindset has been smashed to pieces, and underneath all the trauma he’s been brutally suppressing is bubbling up. jon has no real experience in judging threats, because for the last 20 years he’s been burying his head in the sand and yelling he can’t see any threats. so he overcompensates, and assumes everything is a threat. his experience re:not being believed tells him that everyone around him is stupid and wrong and the only person he can rely on is himself.

so he investigates. he’s convinced that his life is in imminent danger, that everyone around him is plotting to kill him. he doesn’t hold back, because you don’t hold back in a life-or-death scenario. he knows something is wrong. something is very wrong. he’s sure it’s a threat to him, a threat to his life. but he can’t put a finger on what it is.

this is when his friendship with tim breaks down. i’ll talk about tim in a minute.

jon spirals, and obsesses, and wrings answers out of the ether until it all falls together. he understands what is wrong, that it’s sasha that wants him dead. or, well, not sasha. he’s been winding up tighter and tighter all series, and he lets loose by striking out, acting for once instead of reacting. it is remarkably easy to buy an axe in central london, after all.

and then, well, that doesn’t go well.

part iii: desperation (s3)

after what jon did backfired so badly, he goes to georgie, because he has no other option. and he thinks, what went wrong? and the answer he comes up with is i didn’t know enough.* that’s why it all went wrong, because he didn’t know what he was dealing with. and so the solution is to find out more.

he’s starting to realise that he’s changing.** he wants to find out more about that as well, to control it.

so he goes and finds out more. or, tries to. he doesn’t have many leads.*** jon is not good at judging threat, and doesn’t know the danger he is putting himself in. he’s stubborn, and locked onto getting more knowledge like a dog and a bone.****

and then he does get more knowledge, but it’s the knowledge that the world is ending, and he’s the only one who can fix it.***** he can’t process his trauma. he doesn’t have time. the world is ending.

in late s3, jon is desperate. he’s overworking himself. he feels alone: daisy’s at his throat, elias is dangling information over his head, tim...

we’ll talk about tim later.

basira doesn’t trust him, georgie isn’t happy with him, melanie’s never liked him. he gets kidnapped for a month, and no one notices. the only person jon has firmly in his corner is martin.****** and he doesn’t have time to talk to martin, because he’s getting kidnapped, and jetting across the world chasing shadows, and desperately, desperately trying not to fuck everything up again.

and he doesn’t! they build a plan. it’s dangerous, sure, but jon doesn’t even know what that means anymore. his whole life is dangerous. jon going into the unknowing is cautiously, waveringly hopeful. maybe this time it won’t go wrong. this time they know what to do, they know what they’re dealing with.

and, the tragedy is, it doesn’t go wrong. they save the world. they send elias to prison. it all goes to plan. and tim is dead, and daisy is buried, and jon is lost in dreams.

*👁️ **👁️ ***👁️ ****👁️ ***** he’s not the only one, of course, there are a whole team of people working on stopping the Unknowing, but jon is the Archivist. he’s the heir to gertrude’s legacy.

****** this is where they fall in love, after all. which is a good thing, of course, but it adds an extra weight to every interaction they have, guessing and double-guessing how the other feels, until jon actually can’t talk to martin, not how he wants to, because he’s not sure if they’re there yet. (martin is there. jon doesn’t have time to be.)

see yall next time

i would like to cover s4 and s5, but this post is 1.5k already, and i’ve covered up to when the fic takes place! next time i will be ranting incoherently about timothy stoker, punctuated by bursts on uncontrollable sobbing. when that’s up, i’ll chuck a link here, and on the author notes of the fic i’m doing this for. see you then!

#tma #tma meta #jonathan sims #jon sims meta #character analysis #a deeply annoying child #the essay tag #god this is a mess but w/e posting it anyway

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disgustingtoast · 4 years ago

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my shitty, shitty minho fic that took ages [tmr minho]

I'm sick of rereading this so here is 3.5k words of shitty, self indulgent writing. The confession could have 100% been more heartfelt but I'm sick of looking this in my google docs. There is most definitely a ton of mistakes but idc <3

this isn't really enemies to lover but the whole dynamic minho and the reader have kinda wrote itself lmao

HERE YOU MFS- @agathallalongs @blanknamed

You were fine with the way you woke up. Hell, you preferred it over some snot-nosed kid coming in and waking you up. And as it turns out, having the same schedule for a little under a year makes for a great internal clock, the habit of getting up in time for your daily run already having been instilled in you for months. So when you’re pulled from the peaceful lulls of sleep because of the feeling of being flipped upside down and landing face-first into the dirt floor of the Glade, you were rightfully peeved.

“Rise and shine shank.”

Minho. Of course it was Minho.

“I’m gonna throw you off the Cliff the minute we’re far enough into the Maze.” Sitting up, you try to rub off the dirt that got on your face when you face planted, scowling at the stains that litter the front of your shirt. “This was a new shirt too.”

“Were you thinking of going running with me or do you plan on sitting in the dirt all day?” Despite him being out of sight you can practically see the smug look he’s wearing. “Hey, maybe you can convince Winston to let you get in the pig pen so you can take a nice mud bath.”

Groaning, you finally stand up and turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, holding a paper bag which you presumed had your lunch in it on the other side of your hammock, your very, very twisted hammock.

“Why the hell did you wake me up? I get up fine on my own.”

He shrugs in response, “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like waking me up or you just felt like getting the world record for ‘biggest pain in the ass’?”

“A bit of both, and seeing your face when you spat out that dirt made you so much more attractive.”

Heat crawls up your neck in embarrassment, “Slim it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in frustration, you gesture in front of you to the tangled mess that hangs between you, “Also you’re gonna fix that.”

“No. It’s your bed.”

“You’re the one who flipped me over! Fix it.”

He stares at you for a second before turning on his heel and jogging off. While he turns to leave you barely catch the way his lips quirk into a smirk. As you watch his retreating figure you can feel your fingers twitch, the urge to strangle him suddenly overwhelming.

“Hey! Get back here shuck-face!” As quickly as you can, you slip your shoes on, not bothering to tie them and pull the leather harness over your head. After one last disapproving glance at your pathetic hammock you’re off, racing after Minho in an effort not to let him get too far ahead. If he beat you to the Doors you’d never hear the end of it.

By the time you catch up with him you’re out of breath. Everytime you would get closer than a few feet behind him he’d run a little faster keeping you at a good few paces behind him, succeeding at prolonging your ever-growing exasperation.

Eventually though he lets you catch up until you’re running side by side, a few meters away from the Walls. “This prison wouldn’t be half as bad if the Creators had put anyone else in here other than you. Preferably someone cuter, without such a punchable face.” You don’t have to look at him to imagine the offended look on his face, one of his most punchable expressions actually.

“I am by far the most attractive guy here. The rest of these shanks look like klunk in cargo shorts.”

“Yeah no. You don’t even break the top 21 on my list.” Once you reach the wall, you lean against it, waiting for the doors to open. When you look at Minho he quirks an eyebrow.

“You have a list?” He pauses for a moment, “Wait there’s only 22 gladers. You included yourself on your own list?”

“Good job! I wasn’t sure if you knew how to count.”

“Slim it. So who’re the top 3?”

You pause for a moment pretending to mull it over. “Well, Gally’s got that whole tall and brooding thing going. And Nick, well I like a man who can take charge-”

“Yeah, yeah okay I get it.” He waves his hand in the air rather indignantly, dismissing what you said. After a minute of silence. the grating sound of rock being dragged against rock echoes through the Glade as the Doors finally start to open. As he tightens the straps of his harness, Minho glances down at the ground and pauses for a moment before he snickers, “You better tie your shoes if you don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face. Might knock you down a few pegs on that list of yours.”

It had been hours since you’d left the Glade, running the familiar course of the Maze. The only entertainment being watching the way the back of Minho’s neck turns a lovely shade of red every time you make a particularly irritating comment.

“Hey it’s getting late. We should go back to the Glade.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s not that late. We still have plenty of time to get back.”

“But I finally convinced Fry to make bacon and there's no way that they’ll be any left unless we get there early.” You draw out the last syllable in a whine, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

He pivots, still continuing to run just now facing backwards. “Is Frypans bacon really more important than finding a way out of this hell hole?”

“Yes!”

“...Fine-” His sigh of annoyance is cut off abruptly as he trips, falling backwards and landing with a loud huff as the air is knocked out of his lungs.

“Shit, Minho!” You kneel beside him as he lays still, “Are you okay?!” Your voice seems to ricochet off the walls.

It takes a moment before he groans, his eyes still closed. “Why are you so shucking loud?”

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Quieting your tone, you hover over him.

He finally opens his eyes, “M’ fine. I just tripped.” Pushing himself up, he tries to stand but the minute he puts pressure on his ankle he gasps in pain, stumbling into you as you stand to catch him.

“Shit. Okay, you just need to sit down.” You lead him over to the wall, letting him support himself against it before he slides down to sit. When he stretches his legs out in front of him you take to kneeling again, this time next to his feet. Rolling back the bottom of his pant leg you check to see how bad his ankle is and judging by the wincing and the gritting of his teeth you’re betting on not good.

It’s only been a minute but you feel your heart drop at the way it’s already swollen and starting to bruise. You frown as you press your finger against it lightly, snapping your hand back as Minho recoils, growling in pain.

“Don’t touch it!”

“Fine. Good luck finding someone else in here that’ll help you. I’m sure the Grievers would be happy to assist.”

“It just hurts asshole, no need to get snappy.”

“Yeah, yeah just stop your whining you big baby.”

He cringes as you begin to prod his ankle again and sets his head back to rest against the wall.

“Well I’d say it’s just a fracture, it doesn't look too messed up- Minho?” He doesn’t respond. “Hey! Minho!” You reach in front of his face and snap your fingers, “C’mon I need you to wake up!”

He moans as he opens his eyes, well squints his eyes. He can barely keep them open half way, “Why is it so bright in here?”

Furrowing your eyebrows you glance up, it really isn’t that bright, gray clouds float across the majority of the sky and cover most of the sun. Looking back at his face, you can’t stop the nauseating feeling of fear that gnaws in your stomach. “Here, move your head off the wall, I need to check something.”

The dark stain on the wall where he was resting against is enough evidence but some irrational, hopeful part of you checks anyways, reaching around him and pressing your fingers to the back of his head. When you bring your hand back, your fingers are covered in blood.

“Damn it.” You try your hardest to push down the anxiety thundering in your stomach as you grab Minho’s arm and wrap it around your shoulder. Now is not the time to panic. “We need to get you back to the Glade.”

You’re not surprised he’s heavy, almost a year of running almost everyday tends to build up a lot of muscle however that doesn't make it any easier for you to carry him. You had to have been stumbling around for hours before you had to fully set him down to catch your breath.

“You really need to lay off Fry’s cooking. I’m telling him that you’re going on a diet the minute we get back.”

You only get silence in response, prompting you to look over and make sure he hadn’t passed out again. His eyes were open but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focusing on something on the wall across from the one you were leaning against. You raise your hand and rest it against his shoulder, “Minho?”

“You need to leave me behind.”

The nauseous feeling returns, “What? No way I’m leaving you here to be Griever food.”

His face twists in frustration as he turns to look at you. “We’ll both be killed if you don’t get the hell out!”

“We still have time! I can carry you the rest of the way just fine.” Grabbing his wrist you pull his arm across your shoulders, tightening your grip when you feel him try to tug his arm back. “We’re going.” You wrap your arm around his waist to support him as you force him to stand.

He tries to pull away, “Why are you being so shucking stubborn! I can barely walk! There’s no way you’ll make it time before the Doors close.”

“Well that’s tough for me I guess.” You begin to walk forward, trying to adjust the way his body weight rested against you.

He begins to say your name but you interrupt him, “No! I’m not leaving you and that’s final.” Cursing the slight waver in your voice you continue to look ahead, choosing to ignore the frustrated look on his face.

It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to set in, Minho seeming to weigh even more every ten minutes. As you drag your feet across the uneven floor, the toe of your shoe catches on a crack, sending you both stumbling forward for what seems like the fiftieth time. The only difference is that this time you aren’t able to catch yourself, fatigue catching up with you and sending both you and Minho careening forward.

Stabbing pain shoots through your legs as you fall to your knees, the sound of Minho groaning in pain causes waves of guilt to wash over you. The sudden realization of just how dire your situation seems to suffocate you.

This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been so annoying Minho never would have tripped. If you were strong enough you would have been able to carry him all the way. Why weren’t you strong enough?

The soft call of your name shakes you out of your stupor, it’s followed by a hand pressed against the side of your face. It’s only when his thumb swipes against your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“I’m sorry.” You shift slightly until you’re sitting down, knees pulled up to your chest. He follows and sits next you with his legs stretched out, hissing as he accidentally drags his ankle across the ground. “This is my fault.” Staring at the exposed part of his ankle, your stomach swirls at the dark purple bruising.

When he notices you staring he’s quick to pull his pant leg down, “This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have been running backwards.” He watches you for a second, contemplating, before he speaks again, “You can still leave now and make it.”

“I’m not talking about this again.”

“Why not-”

“I just can’t leave you behind okay! It would kill me knowing that I got us into this mess and I couldn’t get both of us out alive.”

“So you’re just going to kill yourself because you would feel bad if you didn’t?” At his harsh words you whip your head to look at him, surprised to find him angry, his nose flaring and teeth gritting.

“Why are you getting so mad?! And you know it’s more than that! I’m not leaving you here, you can yell all you want but it’s not going to change anything.”

He throws his hands up in the air in indignation, “Why?! Why do you have to be so stubborn!” His tone is harsh and he practically spits his words at you.

A flurry of emotions lodges in your throat and a burning, hot anger ignites in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your lips are moving faster than your brain can process, “Because I love you, you idiot! I can’t just leave you behind because you're the reason I haven’t jumped the shucking Cliff yet!” Your heart is beating impossible fast and for a split second you wonder if it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You watch as Minho’s face morphs into an expression of shock and before you can identify the emotion swirling in his eyes you swear you can hear someone's footsteps.

You scramble to your feet, straining your ears in hopes that you weren’t imagining it. In the distance you hear the rushed strides of someone running in your direction and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. It was far too late for another runner to be out in the Maze.

“Hey!” Cupping your hands around your mouth you hope they hear you. You hear Minho grunt and the sound of him dragging against the stone wall as he stands.

His voice rings through Maze as he calls out.

After a moment of tense silence you hear the quick foot falls of another runner getting closer before you spot his familiar blond hair turning the corner.

“Ben! Oh my god!”

He comes to a stop in front of you, his expression worried, “What are you guys still doing here? The Doors are closing soon!”

“Minho got hurt and I wasn’t able to carry him all the way back. Why are you out so late?”

“I figured I’d stay out later than usual. Had a bad feeling.” He glances over your shoulder to look at Minho. “We need to get going if we want to make it in time.”

Nodding your head, you turn around and make your way over to where Minho is leaning against the wall. You can feel his eyes on you, pleading for you to look at him but you’re adamant at avoiding eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Ben glancing back and forth between you, no doubt feeling the tension.

Having someone else there to help made carrying Minho infinitely easier and the three of you stumbled through the doors just as they began to groan, closing behind you.

“What took you so bloody long?” The familiar accent of Newt floats across the Glade but you’re too exhausted to even look in his direction. It isn’t until he’s standing right in front of you that you tear your eyes from Ben and Minho as they make their way to the Med-Jack hut.

“Minho fractured his ankle and got a concussion.” Your hands clench in anger as you speak, “If it hadn’t been for Ben we wouldn’t have made it out.”

“Aren’t you going to go check on him?” Newt frowns at you.

The thought of being in the same room with Minho after you practically dumped your heart out on him made your stomach churn. “No, I think- I think I’m just going to let him rest for now.”

Newt opens his mouth to comment, no doubt going to point out that you never left Minho’s side but you’re quick to interrupt him. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go shower and get some rest.” You force a smile and begin to walk in the direction of the showers before he’s able to speak.

It seems to take ages to get to the bathrooms. Fatigue makes your limbs feel sluggish and the adrenaline of being in the Maze ebbs away, leaving aching muscles in its wake. You can’t seem to shake the thoughts of Minho as you scrub yourself clean. He probably wanted nothing to do with you and your big fat mouth. If you’d only bitten your tongue for another minute you wouldn’t have this looming air of regret suffocating you.

The regret seems to pull tighter against your throat when you notice your hammock, still twisted from this morning. Tears gather at your waterline, threatening to spill over. The view in front of you is distorted and watery and your fingers fumble with the twisted strings before you give up, whining in frustration.

You pause for a moment before turning in the direction of the Med-Jack hut, your heart desperately yearning to see him. Before you have time to think, you’re wiping your teary eyes with the back of your hand and practically jogging to the little run down shack, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs.

Hesitating at the door you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you’re pushing against it. The room is silent, both Clint and Jeff having left and gone to bed. Scanning the room you notice a bed in the corner, Minho sleeping peacefully under it’s covers. His face slack as he rests, his forehead covered by a thin, white bandage that stretches around his head. As you silently pull up a chair to his bedside you study him, it isn’t often you get to see his face when it isn’t creased with stress or in any expression other than a smirk.

Smiling softly. you reach up and pull his blanket up a little higher until it covers his shoulders, the night had a cold edge to it despite it being well into summer. After sitting there for a few minutes your eyelids begin to get heavy, like something was weighing them down. For a moment the idea of walking back to your hammock crosses your mind but you immediately dismiss it, just thinking about getting up is exhausting. You cross your arms on the side of his bed and rest your head against them. It doesn’t take long before the comfort of sleep consumes you.

Garbled words and the feeling of something brushing against your face is what wakes you this time. Opening your eyes, the first thing you notice are Minho’s pretty brown ones staring back at you, the next thing you notice are the hushed snickers from behind you. Shooting up straight you feel the warm rush of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“It was about time you woke up!” Clint pipes up, “Lover boy here hasn’t stopped staring at you since we came in here to check on him.”

This time, pink begins to tint Minho’s cheeks and creep up his neck, “Slim it! Get outta here would ya?”

“Okay! We’re going!” You turn around just in time to see Clint pushing Jeff out the door and throwing you a wink before shutting the door.

The awkwardness is palpable as you stare down at your lap. The bed creaks as Minho shifts to sit up against the headboard, the sound seeming incredibly loud in the silence. Mustering up your courage you finally speak.

“I’m sor-”

“I love you too!’

Your head shoots up as he interrupts you, eyes wide as you take in his expression that mirrors your own.

“What?”

His body language tells you that he had most definitely not meant to say that, his mouth moving up and down as he tries to figure out what to say.

Your heart catches in your throat as you process his words, “You love me?”

At the slow nod of his head, a beaming smile splits your face, and before you can stop yourself you're pulling him into a crushing hug. Caught off guard, he stiffens for a moment as you wrap your arms around him but as soon as you let out a shaky breath against his neck he winds his arms around you.

“Is this okay?”

At your hushed tone he pulls you tighter against him, “This is more than okay.”

#I told myself I wouldn't tag this but just out of curiosity-#the maze runner x reader #tmr x reader #tmr minho x reader #if any kpoppies get this- sorry ig lmao

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: Fried

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You groan as you look around your room, scattered paperwork and schoolwork all over the place. You have so much to do but you don’t know where to start. Out of frustration, you breakdown. Rice hears your sobs so he runs to you, and licks your arms. You take him into your arms, hugging him. He starts barking, worried about you.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong with Rice?” You hear Kita ask from outside of your room, causing you to cry harder.

The two of you haven’t been in touch lately since you’re trying so hard to distant yourself from him. You’ve always reasoned to him that you were busy, because you were, and you still are. But you’d be lying if you say that he isn’t one of the reasons of your breakdown.

You miss him so much. You want to cling to him like always. But you also seek reassurance from him. You need a label to your relationship. You’re afraid that he’s just leading you on because of his ex. What if he hasn’t moved on from her? Moving on from 7-year relationship is not easy, and from his friends’ words, he loved her a lot. Maybe he still loves her.

“I’m coming in,” Kita says and slides the door open. You grab a pillow and cover your face with it. You hear him sigh, and go around the room, probably picking up the pieces of paper. You feel him sit in front of you, so you jump in your mattress and hide under the blanket. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” you say in between your sobs. Rice jumps on top of your covered face, making you pull the blanket down so the dog can see you. He gives you a puppy look, whimpering. You cry again, burying your face on Rice’s fur.

Kita stands from where he was sitting, then leaves the room. A few minutes later, he comes back with a tray of food. “Eat first, then get some rest.”

“I’m really fine,” you assure him, wiping the tears off your cheeks. He sets the tray down on the floor and you hold Rice tightly, not wanting him to devour the food. He takes a spoonful of rice with a piece of beef on top, then feeds you. “Thank you. I can feed myself.”

“No. It’s fine. You seem really busy nowadays. This is the least I can do.” He feeds you soup this time, which you reluctantly accept. You feel like you’re being babied and you feel a little bit of ease. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but you shouldn’t forget that you’re the most important dish on your plate.”

The metaphor he used makes you chuckle, completely stopping your eyes from tearing up. You nod enthusiastically, taking another spoonful of what he’s feeding you. The three of you stay silent as he feeds you and sometimes Rice. The silence is comforting. You can even say that it’s helping calm you down.

Finally finishing your dinner, Kita tucks you in bed. “Rice, let’s get out. Let your mom rest.” Kita orders the dog, but you and your furry son look up to him with pleading eyes, begging him to let Rice stay in your room. “Fine. Just for tonight.” Kita gives in, ruffling the tops of your heads.

Kita heads to the kitchen to the kitchen, leaving the dishes by the sink. He takes a seat on one of the cushions, then says his thanks before he starts eating. It has been exactly 10 days. 10 days since he last ate dinner with you. If it weren’t for Rice, he would have eaten alone.

Knowing that you’re busy, Kita doesn’t push you to eat dinner with him. He sometimes feels lonely, but you should prioritize your work. He admits that he misses you clinging to him and you annoying him every chance you get. He wants to tell you that he wants to share your burden with you, but it seems like you don’t give him the chance to talk.

Kita isn’t stupid. Aside from your busyness with the shelter and school, he’s aware that you’re avoiding him. You aren’t so subtle about it. Who stays at school until midnight? He also knows you’re purposely coming home after his bedtime. He waits for you every night just to make sure you come home safe.

Confusion is what he feels. He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t understand why you’re doing it.

After eating, Kita does the dishes then heads to your room. He checks you and Rice, and the two of you are sleeping soundly. He picks up your schoolwork, then decides to do them for you. It’s a little thing he can do to help you ease your stress.

“I’ll start with this,” Kita quietly says, taking your worksheet for Engineering Math. He takes his phone out and looks for a Youtube tutorial on how to do the topic you’re assigned to.

The next morning, you wake up without Rice around anymore. “He and Kita must have gone to the fields already.” You stretch your arms and see your schoolwork and paperwork arranged and in order. A note is on top of your binder so you read it.

(Y/N)

I finished doing your tasks for school. I also wrote some notes for your Systems Software class. I read that you have a test on it. I’ve also highlighted important notes in your other classes in case you have a surprise quiz.

Don’t forget to eat breakfast. I prepared a bento box for your lunch. Make you eat it. I will check later. Take a break, too. Stop overworking yourself. If you need help, I’m just there.

Rice and I are off to work. I hope to see you at dinner.

I miss you.

- Shinsuke

Tears come out of your eyes as you read his note. “What am I even doing? Why am I aimlessly avoiding him? He must have spent all night doing these.” You take your phone to check the time and you see that it’s almost lunch, which means all your morning classes are finished. “Kita is going to kill me.”

After a long day at school, you head home. You look for an easy recipe online, in hopes that you can make a decent dish for Kita. It’s your first cooking. You don’t even know why you thought of making him dinner as an apology gift. The kitchen is one of the places you’re forbidden to go to but here you are.

“Is 2 tablespoon really enough?” You ask yourself. You shrug, then pour more soy sauce. You forget about the recipe and make the dish using your instinct. If it’s meant to taste good, it’ll taste good.

“I’m home!” You hear Kita from the front door. Rice comes running to you at the kitchen, excitedly jumping on your legs.

“Hello, little boy. How was the fields today? Did you miss mom?” You coo at him, lifting him from the ground.

“You’re actually here,” you hear Kita say, making you look up towards him. Putting Rice down, you go to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, smiling at him with your signature grin. He missed that smile.

“Well, of course, baby. You said you miss me so I’m here,” you tell him, snuggling your face on his chest.

Kita hugs you back, placing his chin on your shoulder. The two of you stand like that for a minute. You realized that last night, it wasn’t the silence that was comforting you. It was Kita. His presence is enough to make you feel less stressed. He gives you a light squeeze before pulling away from you. You look up to him and see that his eyes are on the dining table.

“I made dinner. Look at my rice! It’s perfect!” You proudly say, pulling him to the dining area. He stares at the food you made, and you nervously wait for his comment. He takes a spoon and tastes the supposedly curry dish. “How does it taste?”

Kita doesn’t answer you but looks at you emotionlessly. “It doesn’t taste that bad. It’s edible.” You sulk but start eating anyway. “How was your quiz?”

“I got a perfect score thanks to your notes. You’re really smart! Were you in the top of your class in high school?” You compliment him.

“I had a scholarship,” Kita answers and your jaw drops. How can he be so perfect at everything? He’s athletic, he’s handsome, he’s talented, he’s smart, he’s well-mannered, his soft spoken. He has probably not sin. But he has to be bad at something. But what? Is he a virgin? Is he bad in bed? He seems like the type to wait after marriage. So you’ll have to marry him to find out. Your cheeks heat up just from the thought.

Due to your daydreaming, you don’t hear Kita talking. “Hmmm? What did you say baby?”

“I said I like my eggs fried in the morning,” he repeats in his usual nonchalant voice. His words cause you to short circuit, unsure of what you heard.

“Why are you suddenly saying that?” You hide your face in embarrassment, flustered by his words. Rice is at side, staring at you as if he’s judging you. He probably is.

“You asked 3 months ago,” Kita explains, eating as if didn’t say anything.

“I know I did! But why say it now?” You glare at him. He puts his chopsticks down and bore his eyes at yours.

“Because I like you back now.”

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Facts:

Resting is very very important. No matter how busy you are, please spare some time to rest. Staying hydrated is as important. Don’t forget to drink your liquids. <3

Sleep is important in processing and committing new information to memory through a process known as memory consolidation. So pulling an all-nighter for a quiz isn’t really the best thing to do.

Sleep is important to overall well-being and mood. Sleep deprivation can often cause irritability, impatience, inability to concentrate, and moodiness.

Rest does not only involve physical relaxation, but mental as well. Mental exertion can also affect your body’s ability to cope or keep up and can cause you to feel overwhelmed and physically exhausted.

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu series #kita shinsuke smau #kita shinsuke x reader #kita imagines #kita x reader #kita smau #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke

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the-darklings · 3 years ago

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hello kat. i hope you are doing well.

if i am honest, i have been stalking your page obsessively for forever because your work is truly outstanding. i swear i have never seen such well-written fiction anywhere and i consider myself to be an avid reader. that being said, i have a small question for you.

do you have a working schedule or timeframe for uploads? i do not mean to sound rude or demanding, but i was wondering if you have a rough estimate of future uploads for ASE and COA. i look forward to both works immensely.

i understand that life is often unkind, which is why i do not want this message to come off the wrong way. please do not mistake my eagerness for pressure to work faster or upload more often. thank you & have a wonderful morning.

hi, hello!!

i'm so sorry about such a late reply. honestly, after the whole stolen fic incident, I didn't want to be on here for a while. first of all, don't worry, it didn't come across as bad; a prime example of how you word things mattering. and thank you so very much for caring about my work (especially original), it means the world to me, i'm not joking <3

so:

what about ASE?

ASE is currently at 130k and about 70% done on the first draft. if things work out, you will be seeing it this year (probs closer to autumn/winter). however, my plan for that is to actually publish it properly which will take a bit of time because of editing/rewrites/cover design, etc etc. however, I plan to post the first act of the story (currently it works out around 10k) on here as a teaser.

what about COA?

COA is on soft hiatus while I work on ASE. it will resume when the first draft of ASE is done as I will be letting that rest for a few months until coming back to edit. then, I plan to finish off the last 5 chapters left, so that era is officially closed off and we can transition to NPFH (also so you can see how I wrap stories up so you can judge for yourself if they're good and it's worth investing in my original work).

#thank you for your question!!! not rude at all.#any time someone mentions looking forward to ase my heart grows five sizes.#i've been working really hard through burnout/mental health issues which slowed down ase MASSIVELY but slowly we're gettingn there #asks #anon

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 3

This one is a bit shorter. It’s entirely fluff, nothing bad happens here. I felt bad for my man, I really did. Scott really channeled Ethan Winters in that last chapter.

Also, Jimmy is here!

Once again Scott awoke to something touching his face. This time it decidedly was not water, although he kind of wished it was due to how dirty he felt. Scott groaned when he opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by harsh sunlight. He remembered making it to the desert and presumably passing out. Was he dead?

“Scott?”

Holy shit. Someone just spoke.

“Hey dude, can you hear us?”

Two mystery people hovered over his line of sight. Their faces were unrecognizable due to being backlit by the sun.

“Hey Scott, can you open your eyes?” Someone spoke softly to him. He reached up slightly with his hand and they took it with a loving squeeze.

Back on earth now, Scott recognized a half of his company.

“Is that you Jimmy?” Scott muttered through half lidded eyes, “It’s so bright, I can’t see your face,” he apologized quietly.

Jimmy giggled with a twinge of sadness, his hand traveled up to cup the other’s cheek, “yes it’s me dear. Grian is here too. I’m going to bring you home in no time,” he reassured.

A primal chill went down Scott’s spine. It sent his exhausted brain into an instant overdrive, causing him to loose his breath quite suddenly.

“No..” Scott said. His voice was hoarse and laced with something like fear.

“They’ll kill me,” he whispered pleadingly, “they’ll come back for me and this time they’ll just kill me! Please don’t, they’ll kill us,” he repeated until he had no more air to talk with.

Jimmy’s eyes were wide with shock, he’d pulled his husband into his lap and off of the rough sand so that Scott’s head was off the floor. A hand fruitlessly rubbed circles on his arm in an attempt for comfort, which seemed to be lost on poor Scott.

“Okay- Scott? Count to ten with me will you?” Grian stopped observing and pat his disheveled friend on both of his shoulders to get his attention.

“Deep breath in, then out,” he guided, and Scott followed him shakily.

Grian made Scott do it ten times before shifting to counting up and down from ten. Scott was able to breathe again and he instinctively turned his head away from the sun. Jimmy placed a gentle hand over his eyes.

Scott tuned out of the conversation in favor of slipping into a comfortable numbness. He could infer the pair were considering their options to get him home. Jimmy couldn’t carry him alone, Grian definitely couldn’t.

The sun in the desert was harsh during the summer months, thankfully it was wintertime and a cool wind swept over the land. Scott focused on the calming sound of a breeze on the sand as he fell asleep once more.

*****

“Careful with him Scar, you’ll snap his neck,” Jimmy complained from somewhere under Scott’s line of hearing.

“Dude shut up, you’re being paranoid,” Scar chuckled back at him.

“I’m really not. Don’t let his neck hang like that,” Jimmy replied.

“Guys stop. His neck is perfectly fine,” Grian audibly hit someone on the arm as he scolded them.

*****

The uncomfortable feeling of grime against sheets greeted Scott when he awoke. It looked like late afternoon judging by the light coming through the curtain (which was a white sheet clipped over a window). He sat up, instantly recognizing his whereabouts.

The Sand Castle.

So it wasn’t a dream, he thought, he actually had made it out. Glancing down at his hands, he observed a myriad of bandages adorning his hands and wrists. They must have been pretty messed up. The rest of his body was still covered in dirt and sand, hence why they stuck him in a cot instead of a bed. Figures.

His sheet was also looking worse for wear, so when he stood up on mildly shaky legs he bunched up the ruined blanket and took it with him to go find someone. Making extra sure to hold the railing on the stairs, he came upon a window and took a second to look outside. The desert was expectantly barren, everyone must have been downstairs.

A muffled conversation became clear when Scott made it to the living room. Scar, Grian, and Jimmy had taken up residence on a single couch. They must have been waiting for something to smelt and conversing frivolously with the resident Enderman. A window near the door was propped open to let in the cold afternoon air which dulled the heat and mild stench coming from the furnace. It must be iron, for Scott could taste the faint metal in the back of his mouth.

He leaned on the doorframe casually as all the eyes in the room turned to him.

“Hey look whose awake!” Scar greeted him with an arms open gesture, “the dust man himself,” he added with a smirk.

“You really are quite dirty,” Grian agreed.

Jimmy almost threw himself from the couch, he went to hug Scott but was pushed away to arms length.

“They’re right, I am very gross right now,” Scott cautioned, but his husband would not be deterred.

Jimmy pushed the other’s arms down and pulled him close, leaning his chin on top of the other’s head gently. Scott sighed and gave in as well.

A unanimous decision seemed to be made when Scott was sat down on the couch. Scar, Grian, and Jimmy hovered over him awkwardly with worried faces. Unsure what to ask him and what not to ask him.

“Uh, I’m assuming you have questions?” Scott broke the silence.

“Yes. Many,” Grian said, “I suppose we should start with where you’ve been for the past three days,” he supplied.

“Three days?” Scott replied slightly horrified.

“That’s not good,” Scar said in reference to Scott’s lack of awareness.

“Well okay, let’s start with where you’ve been right? I mean I think we all know the answer, but still”, Jimmy sat down next to Scott. Probably for moral support.

“Right. Yeah, I got kidnapped; if it wasn’t obvious,” Scott said. Everyone nodded with an I knew that expression.

“They whacked me over the head with a stick in the woods and then,” he paused and looked at his hands. They were shaking, so he curled and uncurled his fists a few times.

“They threw me in a hole and left me there,” he said.

“Wait like an actual hole? Underground?” Scar asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, underground, it was like a cell made of cobblestone. There wasn’t any light, and nobody came to visit me either. That’s probably why I didn’t know how long I was down there,” Scott confirmed.

“What so they just left you in there to die?” Jimmy butted in with a concerned inflection.

“Man that’s messed up, but hey this is good news! Now we have a valid excuse to take Dogwarts down right?” Scar said.

“What?!” yelled Grian, “this is not good news at all. What is wrong with you?”

“We are not building another bomb,” Jimmy said.

“We are completely outnumbered,” added Grian.

“I am not picking another fight with those guys. I think we’ve messed with them enough, look at where that got us,” Jimmy agreed.

“Guys shut up!” Scott said. He stood up from the couch. Everyone seemed to eye him with speculation.

“I need to go wash up,” he excused himself, taking the bedsheet with him out the front door.

*****

Around the back of the base there was an area where the mountain dropped off into a small pond. Scott slid down on the loose sand until he reached the dock where the Red Desert kept their stash of gunpowder. The sky was empty and quiet, eerily so. The only sound came from a slight din of insects and the babble of water lapping against the legs of the dock.

Peaceful.

Scott pulled off his boots, dumping a mound of dirt from both of them before continuing to strip down to his shorts. He waded into the water and submerged himself. He could see the cloud of dirt coming off of him when he ran his fingers through his hair.

Scott stayed under the water for a while. The muffled ambience calmed his nerves. He allowed himself to cry for a moment, then returned to the surface.

“Wow, I didn’t think you were coming back up,” Jimmy said from above him.

Scott yelped with shock, spinning around to face the other.

“Don’t do that!” he scolded with no malice, but he splashed some water in his direction.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Jimmy pleaded and laughed as he was bombarded with cold water.

“Whatever. Were you just standing there watching me?” Scott asked.

Jimmy shrugged dismissively.

“You creep,” Scott splashed him again.

Jimmy made to reach down and get Scott back, but the ladder grabbed his hand when it was near and pulled his unsuspecting husband headfirst into the pond. Jimmy seemed to have already dressed for the occasion and was also wearing his shorts and a T-shirt, so there was no real harm done to him besides his meticulously styled hair.

Scott leaned on the dock to prevent himself from drowning in his laughter. Jimmy resurfaced and a long string of water flew from his now messy hair as he flung it from his eyes.

“You…” Jimmy growled, sending a playful spritz into Scott’s eyes.

“You,” Scott said, “were asking for that,” he teased.

“Ugh. Well I’m glad you still seem to be yourself after all that. Don’t be taking it out on me though,” Jimmy joined the other on leaning on the dock.

“No promises,” Scott responded jokingly, but his smile quickly faded from his face. He pulled himself out of the water and onto the dock, a puddle forming under him where he sat with his legs in the water.

The lake was a deep blue color, just barely able to see the bottom through the dark shadows cast by the mountain in the now setting sun. Scott’s reflection gazed back at him. Cleaner than last time, his bangs were plastered to the front of his face by the water, which had turned his hair into as deep of a blue as the lake below him.

He felt rather exposed. Still afraid that Dogwarts was hot on his trail, they’d no doubt realized he had escaped them.

This was not the life he wanted. Constantly being on the run, feeling unsafe at home, and fearing that your presence could be the reason the people you love get hurt. Scott looked at his mangled hands, his fingers were irritated and red from where they poked out of the bandages; and for the first time in a long time he felt pain.

Not the pain that comes when you catch your finger in a doorframe, or the pain from a bad trip down the porch steps; the pain that grows in your chest when you feel like a burden. When you’ve had to be picked up and glued back together by another person one too many times. When you’ve spent your life running, only to fall into someone else’s arms and suddenly feel safe for once.

When you’re terrified of what will happen if they’re not there anymore.

“Hey,” Jimmy said with a reprimanding tone, “you’ve got that look on your face,” he warned.

Scott threw him a side glance, “what look?”

“That look. The look you get when you start overthinking your life instead of talking to someone about it,” Jimmy recited.

“I hate when you do that,” Scott sighed.

“Do what?”

“Know me,” Scott deadpanned.

Jimmy hoisted himself up and sat next to his husband. He tamed the strands of hair from the other’s eyes, tucking them behind his ears.

“I brought some soap. I was planning on lending it to you before an attempt on my life was made,” he said, leaning backwards and coming back with a bucket and a bar of light orange soap. It was lightly used, it smelled of citrus and mint.

“I feel like I never knew anyone before I knew you,” Scott said as he examined the bar of soap up near his face.

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Jimmy was the first person Scott had seen after entering the border.

“Sometimes it makes me afraid that I know someone so intimately. It makes me feel dangerous,” he said.

“Dangerous?” Jimmy took the soap from his hands and filled up the bucket with fresh water.

“Yeah. In the way that loving something so completely makes it easier to get to me. I’m afraid of people finding out that the way to destroy me is destroying you,” Scott explained.

“That won’t happen,” Jimmy replied, “I can’t even count how many times we’ve almost died and been just fine. Remember that TNT?”

“Oh my god don’t even remind me,” Scott covered his face.

“I am reminding you, because it was cool! I mean I’m the one who took out the Red King without dying,” Jimmy bragged.

“On accident!” Scott reminded him.

“Nobody needs to know that. Also I got him first,” the other added. Scott kicked water at him.

Jimmy put a hand on Scott’s back and pushed him into the lake.

“Hey,” Scott said.

“Stay right here,” Jimmy directed and positioned Scott between his knees so that he could reach his hair easier.

“Don’t let that indestructible mindset get to you,” Scott said. He admired the ripples on the surface of the water.

“Maybe if I believe it enough it’ll be real,” Jimmy said with no particular conviction, focused on making sure he adequately scrubbed his husband’s hair.

#mcyt #3rd life smp #3rdlife #flower husbands #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #grian #goodtimeswithscar #3rdlife smp #cas types

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forrests-waterfall · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Ik someone’s asked you before but I reallyyyy liked the Dynamic between them both sooooo I’d like to request regressor Tommy and caregiver Technoblade oneshot please ! Maybe something like he hasn’t regressed in a month and techno is worried about him and baby’s him! :3 thank ya <3

Little!Tommy and CG!Technoblade

A/N ;; To be honest, I’m not a fan of how I wrote this. I don’t know what it is about it that needs to be fixed either pfft. So I hope this is at least alright!!

CW/TW ;; Small mentions of Tommy’s exile, the pet names bubs, baby boy, and Toms being used. Also very very small mentions of pushing back headspace.

"Tech I'm home!" Tommy shivered from the outside cold as the door shut behind him. He had gone out to get some materials but had forgotten his jacket (aside from the one he was wearing already), so the trip was a short one.

He didn't need a lot anyway, pretty much anything he needed the other had. After taking his sweater off due to the now warm temperature in the house, he looked up the latter. Techno hadn't replied to his--you could say announcement of him being home.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, sure the other didn't say a lot when Tommy got home but there was at least an "alright" or a hum of acknowledgment. And it wasn't a big deal of course, he was just used to it he supposed.

He placed himself on the latter and climbed up quickly, wanting to see what the other was doing. Maybe Techno was just making potions again and was too concentrated in doing so. That would make sense, Techno was almost always doing something work related.

He hopped onto the next floor and looked at the other. Techno wasn't making potions but he was sitting on a table reading a book. Must be another history book, what was it that Techno liked? Greek mythology? "Hey, Tommy"

The younger smiled at the greeting, "what you readin'? Nerd stuff again I assume?" Tommy hopped onto the table and sat next to the other with his legs crossed.

Tommy actually enjoyed listening to Techno talk about stories and all kinds of other stuff, though knowing Tommy he'd never admit to it. It was just something about the way Techno spoke about it all, it had him intrigued him and he couldn't help but listen.

"Yes Tommy, nerd stuff" he turned the page and began reading along the lines of words again. Silence went between the two, Tommy sometimes peeking over Techno's shoulder to look at the page he was on.

It was obviously an old book as some parts of the pages were stained though not enough to make it illegible. Tommy sighed as he looked away from the nonfiction/fiction (depends on what the person believed).

He hadn't realized how tired he was until he sat down, not only from the trip but he also didn't get much sleep the past week or two. It had only been around one to two months since Tommy moved in with Techno, which meant it was only one to two months since he got away from Dream.

Just thinking about it made him want to curl up and go into his safe place. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't regressed in quite a bit. He either didn't have time to do it or just got scared about doing so. He didn't get to regress much at all during exile unless it was right before bed. Dream was just always there which made it a whole lot more difficult.

The blond knew that this was a safe place for him, Techno wouldn't judge him. Hell, Techno was his caregiver. Though Tommy didn't need anyone to take care of him--he was a big man, not a child!

He hadn't even noticed he was chewing on his fingers while thinking, though the other had seen a bit ago but didn't want to question it right away. "Toms?" Tommy internally smiled at the simple nickname, Techno had started calling him that in little space originally but it became an all the time thing.

Honestly, tommy didn't mind. "Mm?" Tommy hummed in response, wanting to know what the other's question was.

Tommy's legs dropped from the edge of the table and began to swing, Tommy couldn't stand sitting still, and it didn't help he was starting to feel small. Techno stopped what he was doing and placed the book down.

"Are you little right now, Toms?" Techno's voice became much softer than earlier, Tommy immediately noticed that the other was using the tone he typically used when Tommy was in little space.

"No" Tommy shook his head in response. He wasn't little, he was just quiet. That's all.

Techno didn't believe the response he got, Tommy never really liked admitting that he was feeling small and the caregiver was more than aware of that.

"You don't have to lie to me, baby boy. It's okay to be little, I've noticed you haven't been for quite some time now" Techno knew how to make Tommy feel smaller, and Tommy wasn't necessarily complaining.

The blond huffed as he crossed his arms, looking a different direction rather than at Techno. The older hopped off the desk and took a step away, "whatever, I guess I'll just go color by myself in these new coloring books I bought" the pinkette's playfully added as he began to take a few steps away.

Tommy perked up, new coloring books? He wanted to color! Plus they were new, maybe he'd give in to Techno. "I wan color!" Techno went back over to the little, "oh really?" Tommy nodded excitedly, he wanted to see the new coloring books! He wanted to try and color inside the lines! Techno picked the little up and sat him on his waist, "okay fine, if you say so!"

————————

"What color pencil do you want?" "Blue!" he handed the blue pencil to Tommy and watched him color whatever he was coloring.

It had been a good hour since Tommy got home, which was around 10pm. Techno checked the time to see it was now 11, which was pretty late for the other. Tommy's usual bed time when in little space was usually 9pm, though today was a bit of an exception.

Even if an exception, again it was still late and he couldn't let the little stay up much longer. He could tell Tommy wasn't getting enough sleep anyway by the purple bags under the blond's eyes. Not to mention the little has been acting tired the past few days now.

"Wha you thinkin' about, Tech?" Tommy stopped Techno from thinking any further into it, "nothing Toms, you don't have to worry about it" Techno ruffled the other's hair which resulted in a pout. "Otay" he extended his Y as he went back to coloring, "need red p'ease".

Techno handed him the wooden coloring tool, "Tha purple!" Tommy giggled--the hybrid looking at the pencil and sighed, he handed Tommy the correct one this time.

Looking back at the time, it was now 11:13pm. Techno could also tell that the other was getting sleepier, with the constant rubbing of his eyes and yawns coming from him.

"Maybe we should head to bed, bubs" Tommy surprisingly didn't refute against it, he was done with his coloring page and couldn't think of anything to do.

He sat himself up and made grabby hands at his caregiver. This resulted in the hybrid cooing as he lifted the little and rested him on his waist like earlier. He carefully went down the latter, making sure not to drop the little just in case he decided to move.

Once in Tommy's room, he set him down on his bed and covered him with the red blanket the little had. Tommy grabbed ahold of a sheep plush he owned and hugged it to his chest, "Ghost!" he giggled while continuing to cuddle with the stuffed animal.

"Sippy or baba today, Toms?" the little responded by lifting up a single finger, which silently told techno he wanted a sippy cup.

Techno went back up a couple rooms, fetched a red and white sippy cup and filled it with apple juice. Tommy had preferred to drink some type of juice before bed rather than milk.

The hybrid went back to the little's room and handed him the cup filled with juice. Tommy smiled and took ahold of the cup and began drinking it.

"You want me to read you a bedtime story, bubs?" the other took the top of the cup out of his mouth and nodded excitedly. Techno had many and many stories memorized, so usually a book wasn't needed. He sat down beside the little and began thinking. "A'tena!" Tommy smiled and set his plush down beside himself. "You want to hear about a Greek God?" Techno was double checking just in case they weren't talking about the same person.

The little clapped excitedly with a couple nods, "okay settle down," Tommy nodded one last time before he stopped and began to listen. "where do I begin.." The caregiver began to think, not wanting to make this boring for the other. "Wha she do?" Tommy tilted his head slightly to the side while letting out a yawn. Techno believed he understood was Tommy had asked and cleared out his throat as Tommy snuggled into his caregiver's side.

"Well, Athena protected a city long long ago called..."

#ohhh I hate how this turned out ack #well what can you do #age regression #agere #mcyt agere #mcyt age regression #sfw agere #dream smp #dream smp age regression #dream smp agere #mcyt #caregiver technoblade #CG Technoblade #little tommy #DSMP agere #dsmp age regression

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flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

Text

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold.

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment.

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it.

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do.

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known.

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic"

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to.

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you.

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore.

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals.

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range.

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway”

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out.

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom.

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you.

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out.

“So Talia it is” He smirked.

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate.

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat”

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face.

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck.

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips.

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you.

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us”

159 notes · View notes

obsidianfr3sk · 3 years ago

Text

Shooting Star

@renegades-ship-weeks - Renegades Ship Week #1 | Humon - Dancing

Summary: Maybe it was the fact that Simon wasn’t aware of Max’s weird tendency to sleep when they played upbeat songs. Or maybe that he had never heard that song. He had seen him dancing at public events, with him or with other members of the Council. He had also seen him dancing during their wedding day, and he was dancing with him. But he hadn’t seen him dancing like that before.

AO3

SKDJFJHDSJ IT’S TODAY, IT’S TODAY SDKFJHJDSK TODAY THE RENEGADES SHIP WEEK STARTS TODAY AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO START IT WITH SOME RENEGAYS CONTENT <3

Ok, so this... is kind of a songfic (? I thought the format fitted the prompt better. The song I choose for this is Shooting Star by Owl City (thank you, Dawnie, for letting me know about its existance uwu). I’d recommend you hear the song before reading this or when the dancing scene arrives (you’ll know, don’t worry).

None of this would be possible without the help of the amazing @greasicookies. Thanks for hosting this event✨ I don’t know if there has been another thing like this before, but this is actually my first ship weeks in this fandom and I’m so exited!! I hope we can get a lot more! And for those who are still thinking about participating or not, go for it c:

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!✨

Tag list: @honey-hippie-harper @healing-winston-pratt @lackadae @the-wee-woo-rita @dt-everwoods @greenalmond

When the sun goes down and the lights burn out,

then it's time for you to shine

brighter than a shooting star.

So shine no matter where you are.

Enough time had passed for him to forget the first time he danced with Hugh.

It was one of the downsides of knowing someone for a long time. The first time they probably danced together was to some tune they heard on the radio in the living room of one of their houses, the park, or the street, but it happened when he was so young, that now, Simon couldn’t remember what song it was, if the sky was blue that day, or how the concept of dancing looked like for them at that age.

But one of the advantages of knowing someone for a long time was that you were constantly making memories with them. So, for him, the first time he really danced with Hugh, was during their wedding day. And it was beautiful and romantic, and if he could live inside a moment for the rest of his existence, it would be that one.

And he didn’t even feel embarrassed while he was doing it.

Not that he was embarrassed to dance with his husband in public. It was something he had… thought about. That maybe there was still someone inside of him that was constantly telling him he was wrong, that his feelings were wrong, and that everything that Hugh represented was also wrong, and since he was thinking about that stuff in the middle of the night, he woke up Hugh to tell him that he loved him (to which Hugh responded, “Okay. I don't love it when you wake me up though.")

The next day, Adrian was invited to a birthday party. He was super excited because it was the first birthday party he attended after the Age of Anarchy. Adrian hadn’t looked that happy in months, and even though Simon didn’t feel like going, he did, just so he could share that little moment of happiness with his son. The three of them walked down the street to the house where the party was being hosted, and it didn’t take long for Adrian to join the other kids.

Hugh and Simon sat down at an empty table. They didn’t mind being the only ones there because, at least, they could talk to each other. Although, now that Simon remembered, they were, like, a feet apart from each other, and that morning, after he got out of the shower, he saw Hugh standing in front of the mirror while wearing a random shirt.

As soon as he walked into the room, he asked him:

“Do you think this shirt looks too… gay?”

And Simon just said:

“Love. Everything you wear looks gay.”

He ended up wearing another shirt anyway. And khakis.

Yeah.

Luckily, it was a one-time thing.

At that moment, he was feeling a little bit awkward because they didn’t know anybody at that party, but everyone else seemed to know each other. Simon was pretty sure that the only reason they weren’t actively trying to talk to them was that they weren’t sure if they could, not because those suburban mothers and their husbands were hate-criming them or something.

They definitely weren’t hate-criming them. And he wasn’t being sarcastic. Simon was also wearing khakis that day, plus a purple polo, so they ended up looking like a couple of straight friends who decided to adopt a kid to strengthen their friendship or something.

He was eating a brownie he had gotten from the candy bar when they both received a message from Kasumi about something that was going on at Headquarters and that she needed one of them to be there (adding “pretty please” at the end of the sentence so it didn’t sound too harsh).

They looked at each other and Hugh raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to go?”

Simon shrugged. “I can go if you want to.”

“No, I’ll go. You stay with Adrian. Let me say goodbye to him.”

Adrian got out of the trampoline as soon as he heard his name. Hugh explained the situation to him, but then assured him that they would see each other at the house, and then Adrian asked him if he wanted him to save some cake for him. He smiled, told him that would be nice, and kissed his forehead before going with the mom that was hosting the party to thank her for inviting them (only because Simon told him he had to, since he had seen enough movies to know that if he didn’t, those evil white mothers would hate them for the rest of their lives and wouldn’t let their kids play with theirs).

Adrian returned to the trampoline soon after that, and since Hugh hadn’t finished his brownie, Simon didn’t see why he couldn’t do it for him. He stayed there, doing his best not to think about all the things others may be saying about him for sitting at a table all by himself and fighting against his instinct to disappear.

Which he ended up doing when he heard some kid saying “ Pops ” right next to him.

It took him longer to realize that kid was Adrian and he was talking to him.

They stared at each other for a while before Simon said, “What’s wrong, darling?”

Adrian was smiling. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. “Can you enter the competition with me?”

But when he looked at where his kid was pointing, he realized there was something very wrong with that competition.

First of all, the judge was a clown that had been going around the party giving balloon animals and doing typical clown stuff with the kids, and he didn’t know why, but Simon had always had an irrational… not fear, but distrust towards clowns. Maybe it was because when he went to his first birthday party at the age of four, his animal balloon popped after just a few seconds of having him, and the clown, being completely done with him, gave him another and told him: “Don’t be gay, kiddo” , in a really rude and condescending tone (but who knows.)

Then, it was a dancing competition.

Dancing .

In front of another fifteen kids and their parents.

And Simon wanted to say no because he knew he didn’t have to do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable in any way…

But he ended up saying yes. Because he wanted to see Adrian happy, and he knew Adrian would be happy if they participated in the competition.

So he just nodded and let him guide him to the center of the dancefloor, which was only a small portion of the garden that was covered in gravel. Then, Adrian extended his hands towards him, Simon grabbed them and waited until the music started to play.

It wasn’t… that bad. Honestly, Simon has done more embarrassing things during his lifetime. For example, when Queen Bee punched him during a fight while she was wearing not one, but three rings, and she started to laugh as soon as she saw the first tears running down his face. Simon turned invisible so no one could see him, but it was already too late and everyone there already knew Dread Warden was crying like a little kid because a lady had punched him a little too hard.

And no one was laughing at him for that (except Queen Bee because, as his enemy, that was her job), but he felt like every single one of those people, who were more busy trying to escape the bees that were buzzing around during the fight, were actually paying enough attention to him to laugh at his tears. So that's why, that afternoon, while Adrian was having the time of his life trying to win that competition with his dad, he could only think that bunch of seven-year-olds was making fun of him (the same way those four-year-old made fun of him when the clown called him gay).

It felt like a lot. And they didn't win, but as soon as they got eliminated, he waited for Adrian to go back with the other kids, turned invisible, made his way to the bathroom, and proceeded to puke his guts out as soon as he kneeled in front of the toilet. He spent a good ten minutes waiting for the panic attack to pass before deciding he could go back to the party as nothing had happened.

The first thing he saw after returning to the backyard, was Adrian looking around, totally lost in that sea of people. And as soon as he noticed Simon was there, he let go of the balloon animal he was holding, and just ran towards him and hugged him tightly by the waist.

Simon immediately hugged him back.

A little confused. But he didn't hesitate to hug him back.

“Pops… I'm feeling sick” Adrian mumbled.

“You're feeling sick?” he nodded slightly. That was his chance. “You know, I'm feeling a little bit sick too. What if we… just— go home?”

Adrian was super on board with that idea and didn't let go of Simon while he did his best to look normal while he said goodbye to the birthday boy and his parents. They had served the cake while he was gone, so the mom gave him four pieces inside a small plastic container, which only meant he was going to go back to that house to return it to her.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian grabbed him by the waist again and he refused to let him go, even after Simon kindly asked him to do it so he could make some tea for the two of them (because, for what Adrian told him while they were in the car, he was dizzy and had a stomach ache). But Adrian grabbed him tighter, so Simon had to be extra careful while making the chamomile tea because he was terrified of burning his kid with the boiling water. Then, he put both cups in a small tray and slowly walked to the living room, where he put it on the coffee table and sat down with Adrian on the couch.

Adrian grabbed his cup (that was shaped like an orange and had a smiley face) and Simon realized it was the first time he drank tea with him.

“Be careful, darling.”

“I will…”

And while he saw him sipping his tea, he just knew he had to ask him.

“Adrian— did something happen while I was gone?” he whispered. Adrian didn’t turn to see him. “Did— the kids laugh at you? Did someone there make you feel… bad? You can tell me.”

Adrian continued sipping his tea a little bit before putting it back on the tray. After that, he finally looked him in the eye, opened his mouth to answer, and—

He started crying.

When he finally managed to calm down a little, he explained to him that he got scared when he went to the table to ask him if he wanted cake too because he thought something bad had happened to him.

Adrian— well, he thought that Simon had died.

And it broke his heart because it wasn’t like Adrian didn’t have a completely valid reason to believe that.

So they stayed there, on the couch, hugging each other, until Adrian stopped crying and told him he wanted to go play with his toys.

His tea was already cold by then. But Adrian had finished his’, so that was a good thing. He knew chamomile tea helped to reduce anxiety levels.

It didn’t help him though.

Hugh called Simon to tell him he was going to stay at Headquarters the rest of the day and Adrian suddenly developed supernatural hearing because he was able to hear his dad’s voice from the other side of the house. He asked Simon to pass him the phone and stayed a couple of minutes talking with Hugh, telling him about how awesome the party had been and that he wanted to see him again soon.

Then, the rest of the day went as normal. Except that, occasionally, Adrian left what he was doing and went to where Simon was. Just... to make sure he was still there, he guessed.

At least he wasn’t saying anything about the fact of Hugh not being there with them. Because Adrian only had two moods when it came to the relationship with his dads, and one of them was “If I don’t see you and my daddy in this exact moment, right in front of me, I’m literally gonna cry and scream until I explode” , and it would have been a little bit difficult to deal with that at the moment.

He didn’t say anything when he put on his pajamas and went upstairs to wait for Simon to finish his chores so they could go to bed together. It took him a little bit longer than he expected because he was organizing the fridge (he spent like forty minutes trying to remember the very specific organization system Hugh had implemented the first minute they moved to that house), but he eventually did and when he entered the room, Adrian was already falling asleep.

So he kissed him goodnight and tried to sleep too.

He was about to do it when Hugh opened the bedroom’s door.

Instead of saying “I’m home” , “Hi, love” , or even asking “What’s the kid doing here?” , he greeted him with:

“Did you clean the fridge?”

And Simon immediately knew he had messed up the organization system.

“Yes, I did. It smelled like eggs.”

“The cheese goes next to the eggs. Animal products go together.”

He didn’t sound mad.

He sounded condescending, but he kind of knew he didn’t mean to.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered.

He heard him taking his uniform off before putting on normal clothes, and he laid next to Adrian. He slightly opened his eyes and a small smile appeared on his face; then he rolled over and got closer to him.

They waited for Adrian to fall asleep again before they started talking about their days.

“So, yeah,” Simon said after finishing the tale of how he had a panic attack so violent that he ended up puking in a very elegant and suburban bathroom at a stranger’s house. “I think dancing is not my thing.”

“Dancing sucks,” Hugh said. Adrian was drooling a little bit on his shirt, but either he didn't notice or he just didn't care. “I have never had… a panic attack over that, but… I don’t like it. It feels unnatural. And I’m not very good at it anyway.”

“You don’t like doing things you’re not good at.”

“Not gonna lie, it kind of hurts my ego.”

Simon snorted and Hugh smiled a little bit.

A day after that, Adrian asked Simon if they could go eat at that fast food restaurant they had passed by last week when they were going to Headquarters. He agreed and the three of them went to the exact place Adrian said. It was located in a… “not very nice zone” and apparently, all the parents of the city had decided to bring their kids there too, which meant it was loud and messy, and those employees were obviously overworked.

Hugh and he would have turned around as soon as they saw the state of the place, but Adrian was in a weird mood, and it was Simon’s turn to make dinner, something he didn’t feel like doing. So he told Hugh to pick something at random (after he spent a whole minute looking at the options) and order a combo with a toy for Adrian, plus twenty nuggets that Simon was not willing to share with any members of his family.

Adrian’s order arrived first. He had already finished his burguer when his dads got their meals, and he announced to them (because he wasn't going to ask for permission) that he was going to go play at the playground. Hugh told him to be careful, but Adrian practically ignored him and took off before he could even finish saying “... and don’t you dare take off your socks while you’re inside that thing”.

Simon started to play with Adrian’s toy (a cheap action figure of a random white man that wore a green jacket and was winking at him) while Hugh saw through the glass that separated them from the playground area, probably making sure Adrian didn’t get hurt or took off his socks, which in his head, would have been worse.

When Hugh was finally able to calm down, he turned to see Simon.

“So— you really eat those twenty nuggets by yourself.”

“Nineteen,” Simon corrected. “This—” he showed the nugget to him “—is the last one. Do you want it?”

He had his own nuggets and a cheeseburger he hadn’t finished yet. “Only if you don’t want it.”

“Nah. I do want it,” he answered. “I was just trying to be nice.”

Simon put the nugget inside his mouth and while he was chewing it, he realized Hugh was staring at him, but he couldn’t figure out why until he blurted out:

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you during the party.”

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh—” he took a sip of his soda “—Don’t worry. You didn’t know.”

“Next time call me. So I can help you.”

And he promised himself (and Hugh) he would do it by taking his hand under the table and nodding, before resting his head on his shoulder.

“Do you think I shouldn’t have eaten those twenty nuggets?” he asked after a while.

“Not all at,” Hugh assured him. “Actually, it was very sexy of you.”

“I feel very sexy right now, not gonna lie.”

“Good. Because I think you should kiss me. If you’re in the mood for that.”

Simon was in the mood for that. He first kissed Hugh’s cheek, but he thought it wasn’t enough, so he decided to go for his lips. He wasn’t able to stop when he felt Hugh’s putting his hand on his knee, and before they could start making out in the middle of a restaurant as if they were a couple of straight teenagers, he heard a pitched voice say “Ew!”, which immediately made them break the kiss and go into fight mode, ready to be kicked out and banned from ever coming back there.

But it was only Adrian.

“Ew, pops, don’t do that,” he kept saying. “Why are you kissing him?”

“Because he’s my husband, Adrian. And your dad.”

Adrian crossed his arms and frowned.

“Well, I don’t like it—” he extended his hand “—Can I have some ice cream, pops?”

“You didn’t finish your fries, son,” Hugh pointed out. But he didn’t listen to him, again, and asked Simon once more if he could have some ice cream, making a lot of emphasis when he pronounced “pops” .

And there it was, Adrian’s second mood: “I only love you, pops, and if someone gives me enough candy bars, I would throw Captain Chromium down the stairs.”

A year has gone by since then. Therapy and meds had helped him a lot so he had never needed to call him during a panic attack, mostly because when that happened, someone was always willing to help him. For example, one time Tamaya and Simon went to a departmental store during their lunch break because she wanted to buy a bag of eggnog gummies that were only sold there, and Adrian decided to join them. There, Simon turned around for a quick second to check a mirror that would look amazing at their house before realizing that his kid had disappeared. He could see Tamaya looking at some little bird statues that they sold there (being extra careful as to not hit anything with her wings), but Adrian was nowhere to be seen. So obviously he started this frenetic search for him, which lasted, like, five minutes, because Tamaya eventually found Simon, and told him that Adrian had been with her the whole time, just that he was too short for Simon to notice him. They had to go to the restroom and Tamaya grabbed Simon’s and Adrian’s hands while they both calmed down, telling them from time to time that everything was all right (but deep down, Simon knew it really wasn’t; they were in the ladies restroom and there was a mother with his kid that looked at them in a weird way).

Tamaya must have told Kasumi about the whole thing because she taught him a few strategies she had learned to control her own panic attacks. She had been going to therapy too but read a few books about spirituality and meditation, not because she was super into it, but because she thought some concepts were interesting. One time, Evander was the only one there and since empathy wasn’t his strong suit, the only thing he kept saying was “Breathe, Simon, breathe, for fuck’s sake”. He wasn’t yelling, but he wasn’t being nice either, and honestly, that attitude only worsened Simon’s state; he even began to scream that he needed to go to the hospital because he thought he was dying, and Evander began to panic too because he had never been alone when Simon was in that state. Eventually, Simon remembered the promise he made and tried to reach for his phone while mumbling something about calling Hugh, but Evander told him not to worry about it, that he was going to call him.

And Evander, instead of grabbing his phone and doing that, opened the door, and after making sure no one else was there, he yelled:

“HUGH, SIMON NEEDS TO TALK TO YOU!”

Hugh was there in a matter of seconds.

Most of the time, he was there in a matter of seconds.

He kind of knew that if he ever needed the same kind of help, Hugh was going to call him but he never did. Not until a couple of months ago.

They were at a Women’s Day event. There was a group of dancers that was going to do a kind of opening number; a performance in honor of the victims of femicide. Tamaya was going to give a speech about the issue and how that day wasn’t of celebration, but of reflection and remembrance. Kasumi was hugging her ukulele case (she was going to perform a song she had written during the Age of Anarchy, which she refused to show the rest of the team), Evander was reading a pamphlet someone had given him, and Simon was holding Hugh’s hand, trying to hide the fact they weren’t doing much.

Suddenly, Hugh asked him: “Why is it so hot in here?”

They were at Cosmopolis Park and it was March. He didn’t feel it was that hot to be honest.

Evander turned to see them and smirked. “I’m sorry.”

Kasumi rolled her eyes and Tamaya hit him in the back of the head, without even bothering to take her eyes away from her notes.

Hugh didn’t think it was funny. “I’m being serious— It’s really hot.”

“Change into your civilian clothes after the inauguration,” Kasumi said.

The five of them were wearing their uniforms. Tamaya had a purple kerchief (that represented the feminist movement) around her wrist and Kasumi had a green one (that represented the fight for reproductive rights). Evander and Simon had talked about changing their clothes and put on the gray t-shirts the male members of patrol units were wearing. Only the female members were wearing their full uniforms because when the sun started to go down, there was going to be a march and they were going to be the ones protecting the people there. Tamaya and Kasumi had told them that the feminist organizations they were in contact with had told them they didn’t want any male patrol units during the march, but said that if Hugh, Simon, Evander, or Adrian wanted to go, they could. Simon was the only one who told them he accepted, Hugh and Evander remained quiet, and he wasn’t even sure if Adrian was aware of the situation, since he had decided to stay at Headquarters with Prism.

But Simon was about to tell Hugh about what Evander and he were going to do when Hugh said: “ No .”

Because he was working. And when he was working, he had to wear his superhero suit.

Tamaya and Kasumi had more important matters to attend to, so they dismissed Hugh and continued with their plans. The leader of the dance group told them they were ready, and the five of them walked to the stage. Instead of being the first one to talk (like he did at every event) Hugh stayed back and allowed Tamaya to do her thing.

He didn't seem like he wanted to do a lot of talking anyways. Simon could tell that pretending he wasn't uncomfortable wearing his suit that day was taking a lot of his energy, and he even began to think his husband was going to faint in front of all the cameras (but it was probably just his anxiety talking, like always).

When Tamaya finished, they watched the whole performance with the rest of the public. The dancers were wearing black clothes and purple kerchiefs, but six of them had white dresses with red paint that pretended to be blood. They danced while other women in the background sang the song and played some drums. At the end of the performance, a little girl entered the stage and yelled: “Justice for Lady I!” , before letting go of the six balloons she was holding.

Simon clapped until his hands were numb.

And until he realized Hugh was gone.

“Where is he?” Simon asked Tamaya.

She knew exactly what he was talking about.

“In the middle of the performance, he told me he wanted to go somewhere else,” she said.

Then she went quiet again. So Simon added: “Did he tell you where he was going to be?”

“I didn't ask him. I just said 'Elope, bitch' . And he did.”

Simon started to look for him in the crowd until he felt his phone vibrating on his pants. He didn't see who was calling but, for some reason, he knew it was Hugh.

“Hello?”

The other side of the line remained quiet.

For a second, Simon's imagination started to run wild and he was already imagining a scenario where someone had kidnaped Hugh (somehow) and he wasn't able to talk because if he did, they were going to hurt him or someone else. But then, he saw him in the distance, near some trees and a little bit far away from the event, and Simon walked towards him. Without hanging up the phone, just in case.

He only did it when he was right next to him.

Hugh didn't say anything for a long time. And Simon didn't, either, mainly because he was waiting for the answer to his question of “Is there anything I can do for you?” , an answer that never arrived.

Then, he proved with:

“Did you see the whole performance?”

Hugh turned to see him. They were both sitting under a tree, gazing at the distance.

He said, with a monotone voice and an emotionless expression:

“I will never understand contemporary dance.”

After a couple of minutes, he asked him if they could go back home ( home ; not the Headquarters) and Simon accepted. Hugh went the whole way without talking to him, massaging his temple, and when he asked him if there was something wrong, he told him he had a headache, but in a very… weird way.

He was irritable. To say the least. So Simon decided that the best thing he could do at that moment was to not intervene and just keep driving.

Hugh went upstairs and locked himself in their room, while Simon waited for Prism to take Adrian back home before the march started so she could go join them. He managed to keep Adrian downstairs so he didn't go and bother his other dad. It wasn't until 11 PM, when Adrian was already asleep and Kasumi told him the march had ended, that he decided to go check on Hugh.

It was pretty late but the TV was on and he was completely awake.

It didn’t surprise him at all.

“Are you feeling better?”

But instead of answering, he asked back: “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I just— I stayed downstairs. I guessed you didn’t want to be bothered.” Simon tried to recognize the show that was on, but couldn’t. “What are you watching?”

He sat down on the mattress and Hugh got closer to him. Simon took it as a sign he wanted to cuddle, so he laid next to him and rested his head on his chest.

“You know what other thing I will never understand?”

Contemporary dance.

“What?”

“People who go out with their partners to take dance classes. And dance competitions.”

“Everything that has to do with dancing, then.” He nodded. “Don’t worry. After the clown thing, I’ve hated anything that has to do with dancing too.”

“It’s too… complicated.”

“Yes.”

“You need a lot of coordination”

“You do.”

“And people are looking at you.”

“They definitely are.”

Hugh smiled a little bit. “No, they’re not. Don’t be silly. People don’t care.”

After that, Simon could at least be sure that Hugh would never take him to dance classes or make him enter dance competitions. It just… wasn’t their thing.

Maybe, their thing was to stay at Headquarters until very late at night, finishing their paperwork, with the rest of the Council.

Like they had been doing the last couple of hours.

Tamaya had been the first one to go home. Her husband had called her and said that her kid didn’t want to go to sleep if his mom wasn’t there to read him a bedtime story. Hugh said that Evander could finish her share of the paperwork and before he could refuse, she answered: “Well, thank you very much, Blacklight” and left. After that, Evander spent a good entire minutes bitching about how Hugh couldn’t just give him more responsibilities just because, to which Hugh responded “Yes, I can” , and Kasumi had to tell both of them to stop because Adrian was there. According to her, if they started to yell curse words to each other, he was going to start repeating the same words every time he was angry and kids weren’t supposed to swear (even though she was ten when Simon heard her say “Oh, fuck” for the first time).

After Evander and Kasumi finished their respective share of the paperwork (plus Tamaya’s) they decided they were going to spend the night there because it was already too late. Simon and Hugh were distracted for a little while, discussing something related to what they were doing, when suddenly, Kasumi and Evander were already inflating a mattress with a pump they had taken out of nowhere. When they asked them where they got those things, Evander just answered they hadn’t revealed all their secrets yet.

Suddenly, the air pump broke at the same time the crayon Adrian was using to color a couple of butterflies did, and Kasumi and he whispered, at the same time:

“Oh, fuck.”

Simon thought everyone was going to die of laughter right there. Everyone except Kasumi. She was going to die of embarrassment.

After she apologized to Adrian for swearing in front of him, Evander got a couple of blankets for them to put on the mattress so it was a little bit more comfortable for them. They asked Adrian if he wanted to sleep with them, but Adrian said he wasn’t sleepy yet. Still, Kasumi told Evander to leave a small space for Adrian in case he changed his mind.

They fell asleep almost immediately.

And soon after that, the baby monitor Simon carried around practically everywhere let them know that Max had woken up and was crying.

“Hugh—”

“Yes, I’ll go. Wait here.” He got closer to the door, but then he turned around to see Adrian, who was still drawing. “When I’m back, you better be asleep, Sketch.”

Adrian rolled his eyes and growled, but instead of getting angry or something, Hugh laughed and left.

Five minutes went by.

Then, fifteen.

Then, half an hour.

Forty minutes.

An hour.

Simon felt his eyes were burning and his whole body felt like it didn’t belong to him. Luckily all the paperwork was gone now, and Adrian was holding the baby monitor in his small hands.

Max wasn’t crying anymore, but he could hear Hugh’s voice, although he couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying.

“What’s going on?” he asked Adrian.

Adrian looked more tired than before, but not that much. They definitely were messing up his sleeping schedule. “Daddy has been trying to put Max in his crib a couple of times but when he tries to leave he starts crying again.”

Simon nodded and tried not to think about it.

He really tried not to think about it.

“Pops,” Adrian called him. “I’m tired. I wanna go to bed.”

Finally.

“Well—” and an idea popped into his head “—let’s go with your daddy and Max to tell them we’re leaving. So you can say goodnight to them too.”

Adrian agreed to do that and being extra careful as not to disturb Evander and Kasumi, they walked through the practically empty corridors, holding hands and feeling like ghosts in an abandoned building (although he knew it was not abandoned, there were some people still there, just not in that area specifically).

They arrived at Max’s quarantine area and all the lights were out. It took him more than a second to notice Hugh sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room, barefoot and only wearing his undershirt and his blue leggings. He was holding Max close to his chest and had an empty bottle in his left hand.

He looked done. He looked so freaking done, but Max, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself, sucking on his pacifier and with his brown eyes wide open.

Simon tried to hide his laugh. “What happened you guys?”

“Ask your kid,” Hugh answered. “He started it.”

“Just leave him in the crib,” Adrian said, a little bit impatient.

Hugh stood up, walked towards the crib, and, without taking his eyes away from Adrian, he put Max there. And Max, obviously, began to scream so loud that Adrian covered his ears.

“I can’t,” Hugh said. He hugged his baby once more and his screams turned into really quiet sobs. “He’s being a real Westwood right now.”

Simon pretended not to be offended by that joke (a joke Adrian was too young to understand and too tired to care about.)

He put his hands on his kid’s shoulders. “Adrian wants to go to bed,” he told Hugh. “And honestly, me too.”

“And I would love to join you,” Hugh said, “but, you know… your baby is holding me hostage. The Westwood genes—”

“Captain—”

“Okay, don’t get mad.” He pulled Max closer to him. “He won’t close his eyes. And I’ve already tried almost everything.”

Adrian bumped his head against the glass and Simon imitated him. If Hugh hadn’t been holding Max, he would probably do that too.

When looked up again, he wanted to wish him good luck with the Max thing and that he should ask Evander and Kasumi before getting in their improvised bed (if he didn't want to sleep on the floor and preferred something a little bit more comfortable) (although he suspected Evander was going to get all defensive and Hugh was going to have to sleep in the floor anyways.) But he couldn't because the first thing he noticed was that the room was covered in a dark blue light that came out of a small sphere that was one of Max's night lights.

Hugh didn't notice Simon's confusion.

“Love, don't you think that's going to have an opposite effect?” he asked him, doing his best not to sound too… rude.

“No, not at all,” Hugh answered. “He likes it. I don't know if it's the colors or what but he likes it.”

“Good, but the point it's for him to fall asleep,” he insisted. “Not if he likes it or not.”

But he pretended as if he hadn't listened to him and turned on the other night light.

Immediately, the room was filled with yellow stars that contrasted with the blue veil that filled their vision.

At that moment, Simon realized Max was looking at him. He smiled at him, his baby smiled back, and then hid his face on his dad's chest. Then, Simon turned invisible, and when Max looked at him again, he reappeared, making him giggle.

And he hid his face again.

It was a game they constantly played when he was visiting him. And he hoped they would never stop playing it.

“What are you doing?” Adrian asked Hugh, who was scrolling through his cellphone, almost mindlessly.

“I'm searching for a— for a song… a song Max likes,” he mumbled. Then, he clicked his tongue. “Max likes a very specific song, and I play it when nothing else works. It is so energetic, it makes him very tired. But… I can't find it right now.”

Max turned his face around and Simon appeared once more.

“Why don't you sing it to him?” he wondered.

“Oh, no, he cries every time I try to sing a song for him—” he stopped looking at his phone for a second “—Every single time, Si. I don't know what's with him and my singing. He just goes crazy and it's impossible to calm him down. Won't try again, zero out of ten.”

After a few more scrolling, Hugh ended up finding the song and smiled. He put his phone on a small table, and he and Simon made eye contact for a moment.

“You'll see he'll fall asleep after playing this,” Hugh told him. “Don't worry.”

Then, the song started playing.

Hugh sat Max inside his crib, but this time, he didn't cry. He just looked back at his dad, waiting for something to happen.

Adrian grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away. Then, tried doing the same with Simon's cape. But Simon was way too intrigued by Hugh's strategy. Mainly because he had never heard about it, even though he said it wasn't his first time doing it.

And he tried not to think about that.

So instead of walking away, he pulled Adrian closer to him and silently told him to stay still. Just for a while.

Hugh grabbed Max’s wrist very carefully and started moving them around.

Close your tired eyes, relax, and then,

Count from one to ten and open them.

All these heavy thoughts will try to weigh you down,

but not this time...

Simon wished he had brought a camera with him. Because Max looked as if he were dancing to the song and it was freaking adorable.

Way up in the air you're finally free,

and you can stay up there right next to me.

Hugh let go of Max’s wrists and stepped back a couple of meters. Max, once again, didn’t start crying and continued dancing in his baby way, wiggling his body and staring at his dad with a smile on his face.

All this gravity will try to pull you down,

but not this time...

Maybe it was the fact that Simon wasn’t aware of Max’s weird tendency to sleep when they played upbeat songs. Or maybe that he had never heard that song. He had seen him dancing at public events, with him or with other members of the Council. He had also seen him dancing during their wedding day, and he was dancing with him.

But he hadn’t seen him dancing like that before.

The chorus started and he lip-synced the lyrics while moving his feet. The stars moved around the room and the blue light gave the impression of him being in the middle of the space, among the universe that had made him and every single prodigy out there the way they were. He flapped his arms as if he was trying to imitate the shooting stars the singer was talking about. Colorful sparkles and rainbow comets seemed to appear all around him, surrounding him in a weird but beautiful whirlwind. But he didn’t even bother to look at them like he didn’t care about the things that were going on around him because at that moment, the only thing that existed there was him and the beat.

During the small bridge between the chorus and the next verse, he opened his eyes again, and their gazes crossed once more.

And since Simon knew that face as if it were his own, he could notice he was starting to feel embarrassed.

Adrian pulled his cape once more.

“Come on, Adrian,” he said, grabbing his older son by the wrist, “let’s show your brother and the Captain how we dance.”

Hugh started laughing and Adrian tried to kick him. “Noooo, let me go,” he complained.

“Hey, don’t be like that, it will be fun,” Simon insisted. Adrian stopped yelling and let his dad grab both of his hands, frowning and pouting. “Are you gonna let my husband dance better than us?”

He didn’t want to appeal to any of his two moods, but apparently, he did.

“No,” he answered immediately. “I’m the best dancer in this family.”

“Prove it,” Hugh said from the other side of the glass, casually leaning against Max’s crib. “We’re waiting.”

He remained completely still for a couple of seconds, gazing at him, and Simon started to move Adrian’s hands around like Hugh had done with Max before. His expression dulled little by little, and when he was finally convinced, he let out a very loud “UGH, FINE!” , with the same tone he had used to be homophobic at the restaurant. Simon laughed out loud and Hugh took his imaginary hat off, to let him know that the floor was his.

Gaze into my eyes when the fire starts,

and fan the flames so hot, it melts our hearts.

Oh, the pouring rain, will try to put it out,

but not this time…

First, Adrian moved his arms as if they were dancing a weird version of one of those vintage dances Simon had only seen on TV, similar to what they were doing during the party he constantly thought about. Then, Simon made him spin and they let go of each other, so Adrian could start giving it all, dancing like the guys from the (kind of) cheesy movies he liked to watch, which the professional actors made look cool but when he did it, were hilarious and lovely.

Let your colors burn and brightly burst

into a million sparks that all disperse,

and illuminate a world that'll try to bring you down,

but not this time...

“Pops, you’re not dancing!” Adrian suddenly yelled while pointed at him with an evil grin on his face. “You’re not dancing! Your husband is going to take us down if you don’t dance!”

Hugh had been moving up and down slightly because he knew that was Adrian’s moment to show off, but when he heard Adrian yelled that he got closer to them, dancing with more emphasis and pointing at Simon, like daring him to a duel. Adrian grabbed him by the waist to shake him up a little, and Simon just yelled: “I GOT IT, I GOT IT!”.

Because he got it. He knew he had to dance too.

Even if he wasn’t sure of how to do it.

And it was probably so obvious that Hugh noticed that small detail because as soon as the chorus started once again, he raised his arms, and Simon, without doubting, followed his lead. Then, he spread them, and it reminded him of when they were little and liked to think that they could develop flying abilities if they pretended they were planes. Simon moved a little bit to the left, then a little bit to the right, and realized they matched with the song and he didn’t look dumb at all while doing it.

Especially because Hugh was mirroring each of his movements and he was smiling and laughing, and even began to sing, just a little bit.

“The judges said that singing is not allowed during the competition,” said Adrian with a teasing tone of voice.

Hugh spun two times and Simon spun one.

“The evaluation criteria is completely arbitrary,” Hugh grinned. “I don’t understand it, it doesn’t exist to me.”

Adrian shook his head with fake exasperation and proceeded to shake his head from side to side, while snapping his fingers and singing the lyrics too, pretending he had a better singing voice than his dad did. Which was true.

Simon was about to make a joke about it, when he saw something moving in Max’s crib.

And he realized he had been completely terrified of not being there when that eventually happened.

He was holding onto the crib bars as if his life depended on it. His pacifier had fallen off his mouth, but he didn’t care and was staring at the rest of his family, completely poker-faced because obviously, he was so little he didn’t comprehend how amazing it was what he was doing.

Max was still too young to understand how amazing he was.

“MAX, YOU’RE STANDING!” Simon cheered. “HUGH, THE BABY IS STANDING!”

A thousand heartbeats beat in time…

Hugh turned around violently and Adrian pointed at his little brother immediately after noticing too, squealing and jumping. “He is! He really is!”

And when all the eyes went on Max, instead of hiding like he did every time someone who wasn’t the Council or his parents visited him, his whole face lit up and Simon could hear his baby laugh from the other side of the glass even louder than he could hear the music.

It makes this dark planet come alive...

Adrian continued to cheer his brother, stomping his feet and using the glass that divided them like a drum, and Hugh threw a glance at Simon, before looking at Max again and opening his arms as if Max was able to run to him and hug him.

“Max, you’re standing!” Hugh repeated. “Congratulations, love!”

So when the lights flicker out tonight...

Max's smile widened even more and he began his body up and down, with an intent to join the party. Simon couldn’t help but imitate his movements, and suddenly he got an idea.

You gotta shine...

He grabbed an invisible mic, pointed at the baby that was giggling so hard he had his eyes closed, and began to sing:

“When the sun goes down and the lights burn out, then it’s time for you to shine! Brighter than a shooting star! So shine no matter where you are! ”

Max's movements became quicker and his laugh louder. Adrian took out his imaginary guitar, and continued to stomp his feet while making guitar noises with his mouth because he was sure that he had just become an amazing musician and nothing could stop him.

And he looked so convinced that Simon believed him, because Adrian was as amazing as he believed he was, and he would never let anyone make him believe otherwise.

“Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light, 'cause it's time for you to shine!”

Finally, he saw Hugh grabbing two drumsticks that only existed inside his head, and beginning to play the battery, making all the stars and colorful sparkles jump around him, leaving small traces of their existence all around his face. He threw the drumsticks in the air, spun once more, and finally caught them in the air, before continuing playing his instrument.

Simon knew that Hugh was completely aware of how amazing he was. Prodigies with powers like the ones he had weren’t born every day, and prodigies who also had the exact combination of characteristics that allowed him to go as far as he had been able to go were even fewer.

But sometimes Simon did wonder if he knew he was also amazing when he wasn't being Captain Chromium.

Captain Chromium would never be able to make those rainbow sparkles shine as bright as Hugh Everhart was doing it right now, and Simon thought it was one of the most beautiful views his eyes would ever be able to see.

So when he spun again and tripped with his own feet, leaning against the glass to not hit his head with it, Simon pressed his hand against the glass.

“BRIGHTER THAN A SHOOTING STAR! ” Adrian yelled. “SO SHINE NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE!”

And we wondered again.

Do you know it?

Do you know how amazing you are being right now?

Please tell me you do.

But he never did. The singer, Adrian, and Max mumbled “Tonight” at the same time, although Max did in a way only he could understand and without even noticing what he was saying.

Simon smiled at Hugh, and he smiled back at him, as he always did.

When he walked to Max's crib and carried him in his arms, he noticed the sparkles were completely gone. But he still grabbed Max's little wrist and waved goodbye at them, while his baby's eyelids started getting heavy. Then, before he could do the same thing with Adrian, he threw a kiss at them, before hugging Simon's arm and asking him if they could go to sleep now, again.

Simon looked at Hugh one more time. Hugh tilted his head, smiled a little bit more, and said:

“Good night, Si.”

And Si laughed under his breath.

“Good night to you too. Shooting Star.”

He never called him like that again.

But it was alright because Hugh never danced like that again. And no one could see the same shooting star twice.

Still, Simon wanted to believe that someday he would.

Maybe someday.

#renegades ship week #renegades ship week 1 #renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #adrian everhart-westwood #max everhart-westwood #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #obsi's writs #i knew i said that im gonna strat posting only on ao3 but this is for an event #gifts and event fics are gonna go here too JAJAJAJA

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stars-after-dark · 3 years ago

Text

Stars, Hide Your Fires

It's Pride Month, which according to Soohyun, is time to get pissed and queer at your local queer club. For Gaon, the first of June becomes a delicious dive into pining over a specific Judge and a delectable swab of anxiety.

I FINALLY FINISHED IT, ALBEIT TWO WEEKS LATE BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT

anyways here it is! this oneshot is fairly long at around 3000 words, so if you prefer, here's the link to it on ao3. i've dropped it all below the divider though because it's Pride month (which is exciting) so i have a pass on being as extra as i want. hope you enjoy, and i would love any feedback! keep clowning and stay chilling, i love every single one of yous <3

(p.s. sorry but i couldn't be bothered to edit this when i finished it, but i'm pretty sure it's not atrocious)

“For the love of… whoever,” Gaon mutters as he struggles to pull his cropped sweater over his folded wings completely. Tight fitting jumpers were always a struggle for him and his wings — with baggy clothing he never had to wrestle with his own back until his arm nearly dislocated just to put on a top.

He grew tired of the struggle and called for Yohan who came strolling through the door with a smug grin.

“Ah, so now you decided that you needed my help?”

“Shut it, just help me get this over my wing please.”

Yohan couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked over to Gaon and gently eased the wing up through the arm hole. The cut for the sweater came in closer to the chest than the shoulders which meant that Gaon wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with it folding back from that angle. With most of their work clothes, they had to cut holes into their dress shirts to give the wings a bit more space to move and shift around, but that meant that they couldn’t take off their blazer suits. Clothes and divine beings weren’t exactly good friends.

When Gaon writhed into the clothes, Yohan let go to allow him to re-adjust his wing. With a small flap and a couple of ruffled feathers coming loose, Gaon let out a sigh and slumped his shoulders.

“Finally,” he mumbled. “That feels so much better. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute. I want to try changing my appearance a bit.”

Yohan leaned against the bedpost and watched Gaon stare at himself in the mirror. With a furrow of his brows, his hair started growing until it reached shoulder length, and his eyes were covered in a smokey hue with thick eyeliner. Yohan couldn’t help but grin. That was the first time Gaon had actually managed to successfully change his appearance.

“Well done, angel.”

Gaon beamed and spun around to face Yohan. “That’s the first time it’s worked! Yohan, that’s the first time it’s actually worked.” He spun back around and started touching his face. “I’ve been in a male form for so long, I didn’t actually expect it to work! What on Earth, I can do that! And you—” he turned again to poke Yohan in the chest— “didn’t need to help me this time.”

He spun back around and ruffled out his hair a bit more so that it fell away in layered waves while concurrently extending his wings as far as they could go in the white jumper. He was also wearing a dark red pencil skirt with white trainers on, a style he’d been exploring while safe in the confines of the Kang household. Today would be the first day he left the house in such a way though.

“I feel… different,” he said. “In a nice way.”

Yohan came up to him and rested his head against his shoulder. Gaon’s wings shivered before wrapping themselves backwards around Yohan. “Do you feel comfortable?”

Gaon couldn’t look away from his lips which had taken on a rosier hue. He glanced at Yohan in the mirror and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Would you like me to address you differently today?”

Gaon hummed. His white wings shifted around Yohan’s own black and gold ones. “Maybe,” he started quietly, “Maybe sprinkle in a few ‘they’ pronouns too?” Another small, somewhat humble smile graced his lips. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” Yohan whispered. He couldn’t look away from Gaon either. “Can’t make my angel uncomfortable, can I?”

They stayed there for a moment, leaning against each other with their wings melding into each other. Gaon’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of their chest. They wanted to lean further into Yohan’s chest and bask in the warmth it brought. The Heavens never told them of a ban on love, even if it was with an entity who was supposedly damned. It seemed as though the damned were the ones who prioritised love above all. It was how Lucifer supposedly fell.

Gaon peeled away from Yohan’s warmth. Their chest felt heavy.

“We should probably…” Stop. Stop whatever this is. “We should probably go soon.”

Yohan hummed again. Gaon left the room first, half expecting a dozen feathers to fall from their pure wings.

Elijah was sitting in the living room, and when she saw them she let out an excited scream.

“Gaon! You look amazing!”

“Thank you, Elijah.”

“You seriously look really good! And you’re just glowing, you seem really happy.”

“They’ll outshine the stars at this point.” Gaon jumped at the voice behind him. Yohan had an unfortunate habit of sneaking up on people in the house.

Elijah smirked. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Uncle. That’s a nice polo.”

Instead of answering with the expected, “Thank you, Elijah”, Yohan started listing the procedures to take while they were out in case of an emergency, such as— “Don’t open the door if anyone rings the bell,” to which Elijah rolled her eyes and responded with, “Nobody would even want to ring the bell to this place. It looks like a mansion haunted by ghosts and demons,” to which Yohan clenched his jaw. Gaon took this as his opportunity to swiftly wrap up their goodbyes and get Yohan out of the house before his sharp tongue threw either an insult or unveiled their secret.

In the car, Gaon’s nerves only grew. The confidence they had before they left the house was slowly dissipating as they remembered how vicious the world could be. After all, it was man’s cruelty that killed them in the first place.

When they’d parked, they sat in the car for a moment. Gaon took a deep breath. He wanted to reach for Yohan’s hand, but refrained from doing so.

“Stay close as we’re walking, please.”

“Sure thing, angel.”

They got out of the car and Gaon instantly plastered on a bright smile. It didn’t feel fake, but it didn’t exactly feel real either. Fear and anxiety were feelings that apparently could extend beyond the human plane of being.

Yohan took a step, but Gaon’s feet stayed planted where they were. They knew how mean people could be, how cruelty weaved its way through their bloodlines. They had all the confidence they needed back at the Kang household, but out here in the real world? They weren't feeling so brave anymore. Their wings folded in on their frame.

“Gaon?” Yohan called out.

It was a weird sensation, standing there frozen on the street. It was cold and in their head they were chastising themself, trying to get their legs to move, but they simply refused.

“Maybe we should just go back.” A chill ran through him. “It’s pretty cold out here too.”

“Are you sure?”

No. He knew that Jinjoo and Soohyun were waiting too and it would be unfair to bail on them with such short notice. Plus, he wanted to go out. He wanted to have fun and live a little outside of the constrained tensions of the courtroom.

“Angel,” Yohan said gently as he walked up to them. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. Just… Can you hold my arm as we’re walking?”

Yohan instantly linked their arms and smiled. Gaon could feel his wings brush against his own. “Of course. Let's take it one step at a time.”

They walked down the street slowly, but not at a snail’s pace either. Gaon’s legs still felt a bit stiff and like he was walking through tar, but progress was progress. It was easier to forget about your anxieties when your crush’s wings brushed against yours every so often too.

Halfway down the street came loud yells and laughter, and he couldn’t help the stutter in his step it brought. Yohan’s arm tightened around him.

“We tell them to meet us here at ten, and it’s now half ten and they’re still a no show.” From around the corner came a giggly Soohyun and a breezy Jinjoo. “Let’s go see where these clowns are—” her eyes widened when she saw them— “Oh! And so they arrived!” She called out, slinging her arm around Soohyun.

“I’m a prophet. Told you they’d be down this road.”

Jinjoo laughed and pinched Soohyun’s cheek. “You ain’t no prophet, but you sure are cute as hell.”

Soohyun finally looked up and gasped. “Not as cute as Gaon over here!” She exclaimed, then started half-jogging-half-walking up to them. “Gaon? Hello? Gaon!!”

They laughed and relaxed a little bit. “Yes, Soo, it is me, Gaon.”

She couldn’t stop gawking. Jinjoo came up to them and said, “You look fantastic! So you, in a radiant kind of way. And you have to tell me where you got those extensions from.” Gaon and Yohan shared a knowing look.

“What’s got you so bubbly this evening, Jinjoo?” Yohan chimed in.

And well, Jinjoo looked positively scandalised. “Because it’s the first of June? Which means it’s Pride month, which is exciting?!”

Soohyun flung an arm around her shoulder and said, “Alright love, let’s head back into the club where you can buy me another beer, Yohan clearly isn’t feeling it yet.” She gave Jinjoo a gentle kiss. “Which is a shame because it’s Pride which means time to get pissed and queer!”

Yohan’s wings fluttered in the wind. Gaon pretended not to hear it.

They all walked towards the club as a unit with Jinjoo and Soohyun singing random songs on the way. Gaon tried not to fixate on the way how Yohan’s wing would occasionally brush theirs. It was an inevitable action given how close they were, but still made them feel. Feel what, they didn’t know.

It was a strange feeling. Affection mixed with a sprinkle of anxiety. Gaon struggled with being a spiritual being more so than they thought ‘angels’ were meant to. Their wings always made them feel like they were taking up too much space even though the average human passed straight through them, and it was uncomfortable tucking them against their back. But that wasn’t it, not really.

It was the fact that they were here. Some soul in wherever sacrificed their eternal rest for them to be here, alive, on Earth, again. They disrupted the spiritual balance to give them a chance to be resurrected.

Pushing their way through groups of sweaty people didn’t exactly help either. None of them were spiritual beings. They were as they always were meant to be — living life to the fullest because you only get one. Gaon cheated, and not even on their own accord.

And then, even minorly, it was the idea of being a queer angel. Quite a few religious figures would be rolling in their graves at that (or more like clouds, wherever ‘saints’ went when they died). They just prayed they weren’t disappointing whoever gave them this opportunity. They figured that they already disappointed a fair share of important people in their life, dead and alive.

They wondered what their parents would say.

Then there was Yohan. Yohan who seemed so comfortable in his own skin it made them envious. Kang Yohan who was unafraid to bear his broad black wings in the heart of the courtroom with that devious grin of his, a display of power and confidence only meant for Gaon’s eyes. Yohan, who too didn’t belong, and embraced this with a charisma of his own.

What did he get for it? Damned marks of grace.

Envy was blending into jealousy.

“You alright?”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

Gaon sighed and gave themself a shake. “I need a drink, I need to loosen up a bit.” Their wings shivered too.

Yohan offered them his jacket. Gaon took it wordlessly with a small smile.

A drink —singular— turned into many drinks —purposefully plural— and Gaon regretted nothing. They finished off their fifth beverage and followed Jinjoo on the dance floor, choosing to ignore the heaviness that was still set in their heart. And it was a good time, especially with Jinjoo. She always knew how to light up a party. Nobody would even care to glance twice at them when she was clearly lighting up the floor.

And Yohan’s jacket was a nice addition too. It kept their wings under control and hid their jumper.

A light headache later and Gaon was back at the bar, this time with Soohyun. She studied them while she sipped on her apple juice.

“Something’s up with you today.”

“And so she speaks after three minutes of silently staring,” they murmured.

Soohyun ignored the comment. “What’s up? Or do you not want to say? It’s fine if you don’t.”

Gaon sighed. “Today has just been a little bit difficult.”

“How so?”

They fiddled with the hem of Yohan’s jacket. “Just… stuff.” They knew Soohyun would want to know more. Maybe it’d be good to get something off of their chest. “I’ve never gone out—” they gestured towards themself— “like this before. It’s… I’m not sure, I suppose I’m waiting for a slur to get hurled at me or something.”

Soohyun’s face softened. “Are you comfortable presenting in this way?”

“I am. Probably more so than ever.”

And even though they both knew she was a little more than just tipsy, she gave them the most sincere smile they’d ever seen. “That’s all that matters then. Some people are gonna be idiots for the rest of time, and it sucks that evolution seems to bypass the ‘stupidity’ gene, but this is who you are, Gaon. You don’t have to hide away or sacrifice your happiness for some nobodies. They certainly aren’t.” She squeezed his hand. “You leave any queerphobic clowns to me, yeah? I’ll roundhouse kick them straight back into the womb so that they can unlearn that nonsense. Sound good?”

Gaon hummed again and squeezed Soohyun’s hand back. She went to pat him on the back and unknowingly patted his wings under Yohan’s jacket.

Yohan. That was another problem.

But then Soohyun whispered, “We’ll be okay,” as she brought them in close for a hug. “All of us. In this crazy world, we’ll be just fine.” She pulled away from them and asked, “I know it’s criminally late but may I ask what pronouns you’d like me to address you by for the rest of tonight?”

“He-him with a few sprinkles of ‘they’ too would be pretty cool.”

“Would you like me to make Jinjoo aware or would you like to tell her yourself?”

“Could you do it please?” They chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not sure I can do this again tonight.”

“Sure thing.” Soohyun finished off her drink and shook her head. “But you know what you need? You need to get down and dirty with your man, that’s what.”

That got a real chuckle out of Gaon. “What do you mean?”

She frowned and gestured vaguely around them. “There’s this overwhelming pining surrounding you and that Mister Kang Yohan’s not-so-subtle glances in this direction. Honestly, he looks at you like you hung the stars up in the sky, it’s disgustingly cute but single. If it’s making me frustrated I can’t imagine how you feel. Look, I’ll even help you—“

She grabbed his hand and dragged them both to a booth where Yohan and Jinjoo were talking.

“I have come to steal my sexy woman from you once again, Yohan. I would like a last dance with her before I pass out.” She nudged Gaon forwards. They stumbled and cursed internally. Trust Soohyun. “And I believe your partner would like a dance too.”

As she walked away with Jinjoo, she winked and pinched Gaon’s side. Gaon wanted to curse her out.

But then Yohan was right in front of them and in his low voice he asked, “Care for a dance, angel?”

How was Gaon supposed to resist that?

They made their way to a quieter corner of the dance floor and moved in sync. They didn’t dance per se, but they didn’t sway either. They were just moving, really closely together. But Gaon couldn’t even be sure if they were moving, not really. Their eyes were transfixed on each other, and Gaon could feel the warmth of Yohan’s hand ghosting over their waist.

“Can I hold you by the waist?” he asked.

Gaon nodded.

“You know, you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you feeling a little better now that we’re here?”

Gaon looked away. “A little bit.”

They were moving, and Gaon wished they knew where. It wasn’t a physical thing, not anymore. They were standing still, holding each other by the wall of a lively club, and there was a warmth in their chests, a warmth that Gaon put off as the alcohol yet Yohan accepted it as what it was.

And Gaon couldn’t tell if it was sense or fear telling them to stop, but there was Yohan, and there was warmth, and they were both here in a place where they didn’t quite fit, but they were together, and that had to mean something.

“Can I kiss you?” they asked quietly.

Yohan hummed. They both leaned in together, and when their lips touched, they went spiralling. No warmth of the stars could match this. No cosmos could come close to this.

Gaon could feel their wings raise as they leaned into the kiss further, Yohan’s jacket slipping off and falling to the ground.

When they pulled away, they couldn’t look away from each other.

“Are you okay?” Yohan asked.

“Never felt better.” Gaon put their arms around Yohan’s shoulders. “In fact, I wanna do it again.”

Gaon was all too accustomed with what Heaven was like, and it wasn’t anything like this. This was catharsis and liberation. Gaon honestly couldn’t blame Lucifer. If this was what it felt like to fall, then Gaon was crash landing with no parachute. But around their waist was a pair of arms to catch them. That was all they needed.

Safety.

Comfort.

Warmth.

#the devil judge #tdj #kim gaon #kang yo han #angel/demon au #angel!gaon #demon!yohan #yoon soohyun #oh jinjoo #enby gaon #soohyun and jinjoo are a thing #queer #happy pride month!#i know it's late but at least it's here #not beta'd #3000 words ish #oneshot

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