#and i spent /so long/ on the expression. it's getting there. maybe. the red/green was fun to lean into

[rabbit-harpist]

calamidade arthur, digital painting

[thevoidstaredback]

"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6 Part 8

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96

[outlaw-apologist]

Meant To Be {Logan x Reader}

A/N: I got stood up last night so here is a comfort story about Logan saving the reader from heartbreak after getting stood up. lol Contains: Fem!Reader. fluff. Reader is part of the X-Men AO3 Link ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Standing in front of your mirror, your heart swelling with excitement as you admired your reflection. The green dress you had chosen hugged your figure perfectly, its color making your eyes stand out even more. Your hair cascaded in soft waves down your shoulders, and your makeup was flawless. Tonight, you felt beautiful, maybe even radiant—something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time. A sense of anticipation buzzed through you as you gave yourself one last twirl.

"Not bad," you whispered with a small, hopeful smile. You had spent all week looking forward to this date, letting yourself believe, just for once, that things could go right. After all the heartache, the disappointments, the feeling that you were always waiting for something better—tonight felt like it could finally be different. Maybe someone could love you. Maybe there was something more to life than the loneliness you’ve harbored for all these years.

Checking your phone, your smile faltered as you realized the time. He was late. Not terribly so, but late enough to plant the first seed of doubt. Maybe he got stuck in traffic, you thought, trying to stay positive. Or maybe he was just as nervous as you had been while getting ready.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you fiddled with the hem of your dress, your eyes flicking to your phone every few minutes. The excitement that had filled you earlier was slowly being replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest. Minutes dragged on, and with every passing moment, that small hope you had nurtured began to wither. The messages you sent stayed unread. The minutes turned into an hour. Your heart tightened as the realization settled in—you had been stood up.

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you stood up and moved to the window, staring blankly out into the city lights. They shimmered in the distance, indifferent to the turmoil bubbling inside you. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. All the effort you’d put into tonight, all the hope you had dared to feel—it suddenly felt so foolish, so humiliating.

But the tears came anyway. Silent and slow, they streaked down your cheeks, each one heavier than the last. You wiped them away hastily, trying to regain control, when a knock on the door startled you.

"Y/N? You in there?"

Logan’s gruff voice cut through the quiet, his tone softer than usual. You froze, heart skipping a beat. Of all people, Logan was the last person you wanted to see you like this—vulnerable, broken. You hesitated for a moment, contemplating pretending you weren’t there, but something about the sound of his voice made you want to let him in.

"Yeah... I’m here," you finally called out, your voice shakier than you intended.

The door opened slowly, and Logan stepped in, his eyes immediately taking in the sight of you standing by the window in your dress, eyes red and puffy from crying. His expression darkened, concern etched across his rugged features.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if he already knew the answer.

You forced a weak smile, trying to brush away the vulnerability that clung to you. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just... waiting on someone."

Logan’s eyes flicked to the bed, the phone on the bedside table, and then back to you. He crossed his arms, his expression softening but not losing its edge of skepticism. "Doesn’t look like it’s goin’ too well."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away another tear that had slipped down your cheek. "No. Not really."

There was a silence between you, heavy and full of unspoken understanding. Logan could read you too well—he didn’t need you to say anything. His eyes, usually so hard and guarded, softened as they met yours.

"He didn’t show, did he?" Logan asked quietly, a trace of anger lacing his words. It wasn’t aimed at you, but at the guy who had dared to hurt you.

You shook your head, feeling the tears threaten to spill again. "No... he didn’t."

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw his hands clench into fists. But when he looked back at you, his expression was filled with something else—something protective. "That guy’s a damn fool."

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears. It was a sad, tired laugh, but it felt good to let it out. "I just... I thought maybe this time would be different, you know? That maybe I could have one good night. Guess I was wrong."

Logan stepped forward, placing a strong but gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel quite so alone. "Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ somethin’ good, kid. But don’t let some jackass make you feel like you’re not enough."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "I just feel so stupid... getting all dressed up for someone who couldn’t even bother to show."

Logan’s hand lingered on your shoulder before falling away. He looked you over, taking in the effort you had put into the night, and something in his expression softened even more. "You look beautiful, Y/N. Any guy who can’t see that isn’t worth your time."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in a different way, a warmth spreading through your chest. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a split second, you saw something deeper in his eyes. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but it left a mark.

"Come on," Logan said, nodding toward the door. "We’re gettin’ outta here."

You blinked, confused. "What? Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," he smirked. "Not lettin’ you waste a perfectly good outfit sittin’ around cryin’ over some loser."

You blinked again, surprised by the sudden turn of events, but the warmth in your chest grew. A smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering sadness. "Okay... but only if you promise not to let me mope all night."

Logan chuckled, already heading for the door. "Deal. Now grab your jacket. It’s cold out."

Logan’s sweet words caused your heart to shake with happiness in your rib-cage. It was endearing how he didn’t want you to be cold… Didn’t want you to cry… Though he had his moments, he was often quite sweet, you thought. You couldn’t help but smile as you followed Logan down the hallway, your earlier tears drying in the warmth of his presence. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but somehow, it felt like the kind of evening you needed after all. Logan had a way of grounding you, reminding you that even when things didn’t go as planned, there was always a way to turn it around.

"Where are we going?" you asked, pulling on your jacket as you stepped outside into the cool night air.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, that familiar, ever-calm expression on his face. "You’ll see."

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional crunch of gravel beneath your boots and the soft hum of the night. You tried not to dwell on your disappointment, instead focusing on the peacefulness of the moment. With Logan, you didn’t feel the pressure to fill the silence. He wasn’t one for small talk, but there was something reassuring in his presence.

After a short walk, you stopped in front of a small, cozy diner tucked away from the busier parts of town. The neon sign above the entrance flickered, casting a warm glow over the entrance. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the choice.

"A diner?" you asked, your smile teasing. "You sure know how to impress a girl, Logan."

He shrugged, smirking in that way that only Logan could. "Best coffee in town. Besides, I wasn’t gonna let you sit around hungry all night."

You laughed softly, following him inside. The interior was simple, with red vinyl booths and the smell of fresh coffee and pie filling the air. It wasn’t fancy, but it had a charm that felt right. You slid into a booth by the window, and you couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you felt. You didn’t have to impress anyone here. Not Logan, not yourself. You could just… be.

A waitress appeared shortly after, smiling warmly at you both as she handed over the menus. "What can I get you two?"

"Coffee," Logan said gruffly, barely glancing at the menu.

You took a little longer, feeling a bit more cheerful now that you were settled in. "I’ll take a hot chocolate. And... maybe a slice of pie?" Comfort food was definitely needed after the night you were having.

Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Go on, you deserve it. Get two."

You grinned, leaning back in your seat. "If I got two, you’d have to wheel me out of here. I think I’d go into a coma." You laughed, causing Logan to snort in response. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’ll just sling you over my shoulders.” “Like a sack of potatoes.” You didn’t miss the little smirk that crossed Logan’s face. “And they say romance is dead.”

Once the waitress had gone, you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. Logan was sitting across from you, and though he didn’t say much, his presence alone was enough to make you feel better. The disappointment of earlier was starting to fade, replaced by something lighter—something hopeful.

"So," Logan said after a while, breaking the silence. "This guy you were supposed to meet... how’d you even come across him?"

You chuckled, tracing the rim of your hot chocolate mug. "Online, believe it or not. He seemed nice at first, but I guess I was wrong about that. You live and learn, right?"

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee. "Ain’t nothin’ wrong with puttin’ yourself out there, but… next time, make sure he’s got some guts before you waste your time."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Noted. I’ll make sure to ask if they can handle a mutant before agreeing to dinner."

Logan’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Good plan."

You sat in comfortable silence after that, your conversation punctuated only by the arrival of the pie. Logan ate with his usual no-nonsense approach, while you savored each bite, the warmth of the dessert matching the cozy atmosphere of the diner.

"You know," you began, tapping your fork against the plate, "I never expected tonight to turn out like this. But I think I like this version better."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice soft but sure. "I don’t know, it just feels… real. No pressure. No trying to impress someone who doesn’t care. Just good company and good food."

Logan’s expression softened, though he tried to hide it. "Guess that’s what you deserve, then."

You looked at him, your heart swelling a little at his words. There was a sincerity in the way he said it, like he really believed you deserved better than what you’d been given. It was the kind of affirmation you hadn’t realized you needed. And hearing it from him—someone you admired, someone you felt a deep connection to—meant more than you could say.

"You know," you said, feeling bold, "you’re not so bad at this date thing."

Logan snorted, leaning back in the booth. "Wasn’t tryin’ to be. Just figured you needed to get outta your own head for a while."

"Mission accomplished," you teased, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. "But seriously, Logan… thanks. For being here tonight."

He gave a small nod, looking down at his cup. "You don’t gotta thank me for that."

"But I want to," you insisted gently. "I know you’re not the type to get all sentimental, but it means a lot to me that you stepped in when you did. I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was low and gruff, yet filled with something warmer than you’d expected. "Just didn’t want to see you hurtin’, is all."

Your heart fluttered at the honesty behind his words. You smiled, feeling a deep sense of appreciation for him—not just for saving your night, but for always being there, in his own quiet, steadfast way.

You spent the rest of the night talking in that cozy little diner, exchanging stories and moments of comfortable silence, until eventually, the conversation slowed, and the world outside seemed to grow quieter.

When you finally stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you once more, and you found yourself standing close to Logan, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

"Not the worst night after all," you said softly, glancing up at him.

Logan grunted in agreement, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "Could’ve been worse."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you began walking back toward the mansion. "You know, for someone who’s not trying to be romantic, you’re pretty good at it."

He smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Don’t get used to it."

You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked side by side. "No promises."

As you walked beside Logan through the quiet night, a swirl of emotions tugged at you. His presence was like a beacon in the dark, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unnerving. The sadness from earlier still lingered, but being near him seemed to dull the edges of that pain. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

You stole a glance at him, the dim streetlights casting shadows over his rugged, sharp features. He didn’t say much—he never did—but his actions spoke volumes. When everything had crumbled tonight, he was there, pulling you from the depths of your hurt without a second thought. His quiet strength, that gruff tenderness, was something you had grown to depend on more than you cared to admit. And with every step you took, you could feel something building, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

You swallowed hard as the mansion’s gates loomed ahead, your heart beating louder in your chest. This was more than just a walk back to the mansion; it felt like a moment suspended in time. The air between you was thick with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. You stopped when Logan did, standing together in the quiet. The silence was heavy now, the weight of what you wanted to say pressing on your chest.

“Logan…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, thick with the emotions you were struggling to contain.

He looked down at you, his eyes steady but unreadable. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

You hesitated, feeling the lump in your throat tighten. Every instinct screamed to hold back, to keep your feelings buried like you always had. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not after tonight. You took a small step toward him, your heart hammering in your chest. "I just…"

Logan’s gaze softened, as if sensing your inner turmoil. “What is it?”

The words failed you, your pulse quickening as you stood on the edge of a choice you couldn’t undo. Instead of answering, you raised your hand, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. The contact was electric, sending a shock of warmth through you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

The kiss was hesitant at first, almost uncertain. You could feel the rapid thumping of your heart, afraid he might pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his hand found its way to your lower back, warm and firm, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, a restrained intensity simmering beneath the surface. It was as though he’d been holding back just as much as you had, and now, everything was pouring out in this stolen moment.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came in shallow gasps, your heart racing faster than ever before. You blinked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. You had kissed him. Logan. And he had kissed you back.

For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging thickly in the air. You could feel your cheeks flushing, heat creeping up your neck as the gravity of the moment settled over you.

Logan’s voice, low and gravelly, cut through the quiet. "Y/N…”

You braced yourself, waiting for him to say something that would make sense of the chaos swirling inside you. But instead, he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. His chin came to rest on the top of your head, and in that moment, everything else fell away. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you standing in the cool night air.

You melted against his chest, your arms winding around his waist as you let out a shaky breath. His hold was firm, grounding, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. He didn’t need to say much—he never did—but in this embrace, you felt more than words could ever express.

"I didn’t mean to…" you started, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. But Logan’s grip tightened slightly, silencing your nervous explanation.

“You don’t gotta explain,” he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the night. “I get it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they weren’t born of sadness. They came from the overwhelming sense of relief, of belonging, that washed over you. Logan had always been a constant in your life, someone you admired deeply. But now, as he held you, it became clear that your feelings went beyond admiration. They had always run deeper, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this.

“Logan…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Is this… okay?”

His thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. His eyes, softer than you had ever seen them, locked onto yours. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with sincerity. “It’s more than okay.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, the tension from the night lifting like a weight off your chest. You stood on your toes, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you let the quiet comfort of the moment wrap around you.

The night hadn’t gone the way you expected. You had been stood up, hurt, left feeling vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in a long time. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not here. Not with Logan. In his arms, everything else faded away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, somehow, you had found exactly where you were meant to be. ______ Next Logan Story (Smut)

[msafterhours]

No Promises

Reader POV x Joo Kyulkyung (Zhou Jieqiong)

~2.7k words

“We were meant to be together sounded so much sweeter when it felt like we had forever.”

There's something beautiful about intentionally making the wrong decision. Like, sure, it sounds crazy to step into the line of fire and say yeah, come on universe; take your best shot, but it’s also kinda fun, no? Granted, soaring down the streets of Seoul with the wind whipping against your jacket and the rain pouring past your helmet is maybe a bit much, but you left any concerns you might have had in the dust long before the sun set. Besides, this is far from the first time you’ve acted with the type of reckless abandon reserved for those who have yet to live long enough to have something to lose.

That calculus changes when you re-enter Seoul: speed limits shift from suggestions to mandates. After a third red in a row rips an extended groan from your chest, you spend the moment inspecting the streets you’ve traversed a thousand times. You’re met by the familiar sight of Gangnam-gu’s glimmering lights, gleaming skyscrapers, and garish nightclubs each casting their own unique reflection onto the shimmering street below. On most nights, you’re able to let the mess of colors fade into the background, but tonight, it feels uncharacteristically gray. Even then, it’s all so loud, from the rainfall on the swarms of umbrellas to the downcast expressions of the faceless crowd—hell, even the red light you’ve been keeping an eye on seems washed out.

Right as you’re wondering if you’ve been transported back in time and cast in a 1940s sitcom, a sudden flash of color at the far edge of vision completely derails your train of thought. You turn and are met by a sight pulled straight from a modern drama: a student close to your own age wearing a soaked banana yellow top and skirt clinging to her legs as she hides under her highlighter pink backpack like it’s some shoddy umbrella. It’s … not a pretty sight.

Or at least it wouldn't be, if not for the rest of her. Her long, dark hair cascades down past her shoulders and clings to her face, obscuring your view of her finer features, yet every aspect of her from her posture to the placement of her steps projects a practiced poise that monopolizes your attention. Everyone else fades from your vision as the light turns green and she turns the crosswalk into her personal runway … though the effect is kinda ruined by the urgency with which she scurries through the rain.

A feeling from deep within urges you to act—that and the person behind you honking their horn since you’ve spent the four seconds since the light turned green frozen in place. You release the brake, accelerate forward, and veer your motorcycle to the side where you know she's heading. With a quick step onto the soaked pavement and a tug on the strap of your helmet, you greet the rain with the widest of smiles, then feel it shift into a smirk as you call out, “Ouch, aren’t you a sad sight to behold. Need some help with that?”

She turns and stares, mouth agape, as she processes the sight of you. Your first glimpse of her leaves you stuck mirroring her expression, mouth agape in disbelief because she's gorgeous, with a sharp jawline that contrasts perfectly against her soft skin. It’s a face sculpted to show on billboards … and one whose disbelief shifts into a smirk as she remains unaffected by your reaction. Your eyes travel upwards past those invitingly soft lips, along the bridge of her nose, all the way up and meeting her own, where you’re all too tempted to lose yourself in them. Eventually, she breaks the silence and asks, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

“Of course not, don’t you listen? I already told you, I’m trying to help,” you say back, smile widening as her skepticism refuses to fade whatsoever. “I just figured that while we’re both out in the rain, only one of us wants to be, yeah? I'd be doing something wrong if I didn't at least offer to get you there faster, so I ask again: do you want my help or not?”

As you offer her your helmet, you see the distrust finally start thawing, just enough for her to crack a smile of her own. “This is insane—you’re insane. But you also seem fun, so why not?”

You hand her the helmet and exchange names, and as the girl you'll come to know as Kyulkyung repeats yours back to you, you watch as her eyebrows relax and the distrust starts leaving her eyes. As you go through a brief crash course—how to wear a helmet, where to sit, etc.—her posture slips too, hints of comfort and fatigue settling in as her shoulders slump. Yet through it all, her eyes remain locked on yours, causing an unexpected pang in your chest as you turn to climb onto the bike. It fades slightly when you turn back to her, offer your hand, and ask, “Okay, you ready?”

Even as Kyulkyung shivers and shakes like a leaf in the wind, the fire in her eyes burns bright as she dismisses your hand and climbs atop the bike with ease. Her arms wrap around you, sending a shock of heat through your system and your heart rate into the stratosphere as she asks, “Do you happen to know where the PLEDIS building is?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” you tell her, smirking with sinister intent as inspiration strikes. “What’re you, a trainee or something?”

“No …” Kyulkyung murmurs, averting her eyes as she continues, “I just have a really good reason to want to be there before 11:00.”

“Sure. Yeah. Totally,” you say. Her eyebrows raise; yours respond in kind. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. You continue. “You, the ‘School of Performing Arts’ student—in said uniform—strutting around Gangnam of all places. You’re gonna try and convince me you’re not a trainee, just that you happen to have a ‘really good reason’ to be at an agency before a very specific time of night.”

“Are you trying to say something?”

“Two things actually: you’re full of shit and you’re out past curfew.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why would it even matter?”

“Because I like being right, and you apparently hate being wrong. Aside from that, if I need to get you back before curfew, we’re going to have to book it, run a few red lights, pray that we don’t get pulled over—”

“Alright, enough,” Kyulkyung interjects, eyes rolling with a gymnast’s grace. “You’re not wrong, but let’s just focus on getting me back in one piece, alright? I’m pretty sure they care more about me being alive than on time.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say it,” you insist. “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re actually serious?” she mutters in disbelief. You opt to let the silence act as your confirmation.

“Fine. You’re right: I’m a trainee. Happy?” Kyulkyung grumbles, grimacing as a grin overtakes your expression. “What gave it away?”

“I dunno, you kinda just seem ‘that kind of pretty’,” you say with a shrug. “Something about the way you walk too … honestly, nothing about you comes off as normal.”

“Bit rich for you of all people to say that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘normal’ way to spend a Friday night.”

“I wouldn't either,” you admit, smiling wide as you respond. “But are you—the trainee—really gonna be the one to lecture me about running headfirst towards an enticing risk?”

“No, I'm not,” Kyulkyung says, her grip on your ribs tightening. “Though I might not be so kind if you keep me out in this rain any longer.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as you paint on your most dramatic pout. “You’re no fun … but you are kinda cute, so I guess I can cave just this once.”

“Good,” she replies, smiling in smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get going! I’m cold.”

“As you wish, princess,” you say, revving the engine and speeding off before she gets the chance to respond.

You immediately lose any semblance of newfound confidence as the unfiltered brunt of the elements threatens to overwhelm you on your first time riding without a helmet. First, it’s the scent of rain. Then, it’s the rain pummeling your brow. Finally, it’s the noise. Your motorcycle roars and the cars passing you scream off into the night as they pass—it’s all just so fucking loud and every single sensation threatens to pull your focus away from the road. Yet even amongst the brutal weather of a stormy night, Kyulkyung’s thoughts resonate through your mind clear as day. You feel her heartbeat race as you accelerate out of a turn, feel her cling to you tighter at every hint of yellow in the stoplights above. Without fail, she wordlessly pleads for you to choose caution, and, without fail, you do whatever she asks.

At one such intersection, you ask a question of your own: you let go of the handlebar and place your hand atop hers. Kyulkyung's response is just as silent, but she needs no words to tell you yes as she intertwines her fingers with yours as you wait together. Even through the drenched material of your glove, the heat of her touch wards off the cold, sending a surge of warmth through your shivering body as you both stare ahead into the awaiting darkness. You revel in the sensation as long as possible, right up until the light turns to green and you’re forced to pull away.

As she embraces you once more and you accelerate forward, a realization cuts through the fog and arrives at the forefront of your mind: you just met this girl and you already know you’re never going to be able to say no to her. And that’s … okay?

Yes. There’s something about her that takes the tension out of the knots in your shoulders, makes you breathe just that bit easier—at least when she’s allowing you to do so. It’s all too easy to ease into her embrace, all too tempting to take your time weaving your way through the tangled web of your home suburb’s streets. The thought proves far too tempting and you choose to do so, desperate to preserve the sanctity of these seconds spent together.

Unfortunately, the night only lasts so long and the road only goes so far, so you’re soon met by the familiar sight of your destination. You force yourself to ease off the gas, allowing your momentum to carry you forward until you come to a stop across the street from the building in question. With a sigh and a swing of your leg, you step off the motorcycle and turn to face her as you offer her your hand. This time, Kyulkyung accepts, taking it and joining you on the sidewalk. After loosening the chin strap, you gently pull the helmet off her head, granting you a glimpse of her parted lips before revealing the excitement and expectation in her wide eyes.

“So, what’d you think? Kinda fun, right?” you ask, allowing your eyebrows to lift in expectation as you await her response.

“Maaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyybbbbbeeee,” she says, drawing out that single syllable just long enough for smirks to overtake both your expressions.

“You know what? I’ll take it. And you—” you say, turning away for a moment as you unlock one of the side compartments of your bike and pull something out. “—should take this.”

Kyulkyung lets out the slightest squeak of surprise as she catches the umbrella you toss her, though the surprise is quickly replaced by the disdain and disbelief overtaking her expression. “Wait, you’re kidding. You have to be. You had this the whole fucking time?”

“Yep!”

“And you still felt the need to convince me to risk my life on that screaming metal death trap?”

“I thought it’d be a valuable experience,” you say, shrugging once more. “You can keep the umbrella by the way; it’s all yours.”

Kyulkyung’s sigh of resignation is all that keeps the street from falling into silence as you stand there, waiting for her to voice her thoughts. Eventually, she does so. “Give me your phone.”

“So greedy, honestly. I just gave you a ride and my umbrella, yet you’re still asking for more?” you scoff. Still though, you do as she asks, pulling it out of your pocket and unlocking it before handing it to her.

“It’s one of my toxic traits,” she replies as she taps away at the screen. “Everyone else seems to have gotten used to it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arching as she piques your curiosity. “You hoping I’ll stick around?”

“No, I was just texting myself from your phone for the hell of it,” she says, sarcasm soaking her words like the rain-soaked streets as she finishes typing. “It totally wasn’t because I was gonna ask if I could get you coffee or something, as thanks for getting me home safe.”

Kyulkyung finally looks away from the screen, meeting your gaze with an infectious smile as she offers you your phone. “That’s unfortunate. I really like the thought of someone else paying for my drink.”

“Yeah?” she asks. A pause. Then, “Maybe we’ll just have to make it happen.”

“Maybe we will,” you agree. With that, you turn and remount your motorcycle. Before you go, you offer her one last smile as you bid her farewell. “I need to get back, but I hope you have a good night and good luck with—” you gesture wildly at the beautiful mess standing in front of you “—explaining everything I guess.”

“Thaaanks,” Kyulkyung grumbles, pouting as she shudders at the thought and ripping a warm laugh out from deep within your chest. As it echoes against the buildings’ frigid walls, her hints of a smile bloom into her own peals of laughter that harmonize with your own as they resonate as one.

“I hope you have a good night too,” she says softly after a short while. “Try not to die on the way home, alright?”

“No promises.”

Kyulkyung’s eyes roll once more, but there’s genuine gratitude in the nod she gives before turning away. As she disappears into the building’s darkened halls and vanishes from your sight, a chill courses through your veins, leaving you shivering as you adjust your helmet and take off down the road.

Barely a minute passes before you reach your apartment complex and the pale brick and light blue tones that define its color palette. After locking up your bike, you hike upstairs, step up to your door, turn the latch, and reveal … the silent darkness within. Empty, just like always. Muscle memory guides your hand to the switch, momentarily blinding you as the cool whites wash away the darkness to reveal the relaxing hues of your home.

While the sight normally instills a sense of calmness, it all seems to blur as the chill refuses to leave your body, rendering you seasick as your head swims. It remains even as you peel away your gloves and free yourself from the soaked leather of your jacket, leaving you shivering even as you turn on the shower and pray for it to heat quickly. As you wait, you decide to check your phone and see what message Kyulkyung sent herself.

You can’t help but scoff at the assumption, but it quickly shifts into a smile as you compose your response.

You (10:59 PM): When you read this, let me know if you got home safe.

I don’t want to put the time into making coffee plans if you’re not gonna show up

You (11:08 PM): You’re insufferable

You (11:08 PM): How’d everything go? Were you able to sneak back in?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Oh, easily

You (11:09 PM): Not your first time pushing curfew?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Definitely not

Kyulkyung (11:10 PM): And definitely not the last either

You (11:10 PM): Can't say I'm surprised lol

You (11:11 PM): I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, even if the most interesting part has already happened

Kyulkyung (11:11 PM): Lol thanks, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not there to supervise

You (11:12 PM): No promises

(My sincerest gratitude to @capslocked as always for their contributions towards bettering this fic. This was a draft I started a while ago that I didn't foresee myself finishing, but as I was editing it, I had the idea of posting little vignettes from the plot that I had written instead of making it a singular narrative. The plot I had in mind originally spanned something like 4 years, so just writing the highlights seems like a better fit (if there's interest for this story at all, I know it's an idol that's been away from the industry for a bit). Regardless, thank you so much for spending your time reading my work and I hope you enjoyed it!)

[schoenpepper]

Enemies to...not enemies?

Intro: You loathed him. He thought you were boring. But then here comes the fun part—you have a paired potionology assignment.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, is the reader masochistic we will never know, maybe i was the masochist all along because if jade did this to me i would kneel i would bend i would fold in half like an omelet

Masterlist

Jade's Birthday Countdown

“That’s not the right herb.”

You huff, pulling back your hand that was about to drop a fistful of neon green leaves into the cauldron. “Okay mister know-it-all, what is the right herb?” you point at the open textbook, “It says leaves of the averen plant, and this is—”

“That,” Jade smiles politely, “is a leaf of the serillo plant. Really, if you’d like to fail, please do so on your own time. It’s quite unbecoming to waste other people’s hard work.” His words are scathing, pressing your cheeks with a bright heat that makes you place the leaves in your hands back on the table. Facing the bubbling cauldron, you search what an averen plant looks like as the merman continues working without you.

“It doesn’t even look that different,” you mutter to yourself, “bitch.”

The asshole seems to have spectacular hearing as he responds with, “And yet I’ve identified them correctly. Perhaps you should work on your eyesight before criticizing me for a mistake you’d made.”

Every second spent with this pompous jerk makes you more and more liable to attempting to smash his ugly face into the side of the boiling hot cauldron. Would Crewel have a problem with that? Probably not, right? It’s not your fault Jade Leech was born. You steel yourself and check the following steps for the potion. After adding in the leaves, stir counterclockwise three times, then add in voodoo frog urine.

You take a step back.

“Since you’ve said so, I will work on my eyesight.”

Yes, yes. A smart person knows when they’re unnecessary. It’s better to bend than break. Wise men retreat in order to move forward or whatever.

Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to like your idea.

The smile fades from his expression, which sends tingles running right down your spine. He steps closer, and closer, and closer to you—his face is right against your own.

It’s…not scary at all.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

“Are you testing my patience for fun?” he asks in a soft whisper, voice dripping with honey and malice, “Or perhaps you’re truly this dull? How can a person only have water in their head at all times?”

There’s shame and embarrassment, but for some reason, you can’t find anger in the mix of complicated emotions welling within you.

“I’m not stupid,” you mumble back as you attempt to avert your eyes.

You’re unsuccessful; he tilts your head back to face his eyes, his yellow eye glowing eerily. Your heart is beating fast in your chest as if attempting to burst out from your rib cage and into his large hands. His hair looks soft to touch with that one long strand of black on the left side of his (ugly ugly ugly) face, sharp teeth peeking out from soft lips as his expression molded into one of slight disgust.

“And yet your actions lead me to believe otherwise. Do yourself a favor and make yourself useful before I decide to make your life one of…rather unsavory circumstances.”

You nod enthusiastically. Once he steps away to get back to the cauldron, you clutch at your burning red face and squeal quietly into your palms.

You absolutely despise Jade Leech!

(But if he did that again, maybe you wouldn’t mind.)

[beautification-tales]

The Scarf

A caption tale

Sierra tied the green scarf around her neck. She smiled in the mirror as she pulled the ends through her decorative slide. Sierra was so proud of her accomplishments as a Girl Scout. Now she was a leader for the organization and worked tirelessly for it.

Jack her husband was not as enthusiastic about her career as she spent long hours at the office. Sierra was determined to increase enrollment to the Girl Scouts. The cookies did well but it seemed this next generation was not interested in learning camping skills. So when Jack offered her a new scarf to wear to the office she was overjoyed at the gesture.

“Looking good!” Jack said as she walked down the stairs. “You really think so? It’s not too much?” she asked, giving a little twirl. Jack shook his head. “Nah, it’s perfect. In fact maybe do even more! Maybe put on your sash! Show them all your badges!” Sierra smiled at the suggestion. “I really don’t think I need to do all that but I’m glad you’re being supportive.”

“You should get your beret too. You know that green one? I want you to put it on for me.” Sierra’s smile faded as she realized that Jack was being serious. “Ok Jack …. Haha you got me.” she chuckled nervously. “I think I’ll just stick to the scarf today.”

Jack’s smile faded. “No, I want you to put on the beret for me.”

Her heart racing, she reached into her closet and pulled out the green beret. She put it on her head, the fabric feeling oddly tight around her forehead. She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous. But Jack’s expression was not one of amusement. It was intense and serious.

“Aww yes, that’s it! That’s what Daddy likes! Now shake it for daddy.” Jack leaned back in his chair as he looked at his wife with a sinister glare. “Why are you talking to me like this Daddy?” Sierra asked but quickly gave a look of horror as she began to twerk. “What did you do to me?”

Jack smiled “looking good but stop asking questions.” His voice was commanding, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Sierra frowned as she felt compelled to reply “yes daddy.” Jack nodded in approval as he unzipped his pants. Sierra had a look of disgust as she wasn’t able to ask the question on her mind. “What are you doing Jack?” she thought.

“Ugh I’m sick of that condescending look from you! Don’t you get it? I want a horny slut that knows how to please her man.” Jack pulled out his hard member. Sierra’s look of disgust disappeared quickly as her mouth began to water. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling aroused as she felt herself kneel before her devious husband.

“Yeah suck my cock. I want you to love it too!” Jack’s voice grew gruffer as he watched his wife, who was now fully under his control, kneel before him. Sierra felt a strange mix of humiliation and arousal as she took his erect member into her mouth, her eyes locked onto his. Sierra moaned and increased her efforts to Jack’s enjoyment.

“Yes! This is so much more fun than you going to that stupid job of yours. I was so skeptical when the lady gave me that scarf but I was too curious to try. I want you to transform into my personal stripper.” Sierra felt a tingle throughout her body as she felt it shift and change.

Her slacks tightened around her waist, turning into a green bikini bottom that barely covered her ass. Her shirt ripped away to reveal a smaller white top, and her shoes morphed into black stilettos. She looked up at Jack, feeling both terrified and incredibly turned on. She continued to suck his cock, her eyes wide with shock and excitement.

Sierra’s body filled out to make the outfit look even more scandalous. She moaned and sucked harder as her breasts grew and her ass swelled. She stroked and sucked as her hands became more delicate. Red feminine nails formed on her fingers. The scarf receded into a texas tie giving a better view of her breasts. She could feel the white fishnets on her legs as a tiny sash appeared on her tighter abdomen. “Aww fuck! Now that’s the kind of Girl Scout I appreciate!” Jack groaned as he came.

Sierra shook with an orgasm as she swallowed all of her man’s seed. She felt her lips plump up as her cheekbones rose. She felt her hair grow down the length of her back. She smiled, feeling so much better as she licked her lips.

“Daddy, did I earn my cocksucking badge?”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Of course James knows what Mistletoe is!

for @siriuslygay1981 - AU- everyone lives, no voldemort - jegulus holiday fluff

He knew what mistletoe was, of course.

In theory.

It was a plant. That one kissed under. Easy enough.

So when the holidays approached and he still hadn't succeeded in building up the courage to kiss the object of his affections, forgive him for taking up a new tactic. It was festive.

The first step?

Get a plant, of course.

But it was cold! It was snowy, and windy, and he didn't really fancy bundling up. So, he figured, all plants were basically the same, right? (He was a very smart person but he wasn't exactly a star in Herbology.)

Good thing he knew where the kitchens were.

He grinned to himself, praising his own intelligence, as he left the kitchens with his plant, and also possibly an entire cake because the house elves insisted.

Step one- check!

The second step?

Hang it up high.

In all the stories he'd heard, the mistletoe had been hung above doors, so he contemplated the perfect door to hang his plant.

Eventually, he settled for the entrance to the dungeons.

Why?

It seemed easy enough to get both of them in that spot at the same time, during a time that might be at least a little more private. He didn't want to embarrass anyone, after all.

So, with Remus grudgingly standing lookout a ways away, he levitated the greenery above the entrance and affixed it with a simple charm, admiring his work for a minute before running back to his friend.

Step two- check!

The third step?

Get both of them there at the same time.

It was odd, he realized. For a group of people who talked a lot about mistletoe, a lot of students didn't seem to want to actually follow through with the tradition. Even pairs who were obvious couples walked under his trap without kissing, and the only reaction he observed were some confused glances and pointing.

Oh, well. James Potter was nothing if not a trendsetter.

So, the next day, he mustered up all of his courage and walked up to his target.

"Can I walk you to Potions, Reg?" He asked in his most gentlemanly voice.

"Bugger off, Potter," the shorter boy said through a grimace, barely looking up from his breakfast.

But James was nothing if not persistent. "C'mon, Reggie! Please?"

Regulus Black looked up, considering. James caught an endeared look in his eye. Ha!

"Fine. I have to go early to work on an essay. Let's go now," Regulus relented.

James couldn't stop himself from beaming as he grabbed Regulus's bag before he could protest, carrying both bags on his left shoulder so he could grab Regulus's hand in his right one. Regulus gave him a look, but didn't pull away.

Step three- check!

His heart positively hammered as they approached the entrance to the dungeons. Would Regulus know what mistletoe was? Would he see it? Would he want to kiss James? They'd spent a lot of time together lately, flirting and playing Quidditch, but perhaps it was just as friends? Regulus was difficult to read...

But, thankfully, Regulus stopped as they reached the door, pointing above them. "Have you seen that?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

Could it be true? Was Regulus hinting that he wanted to kiss him, too?

"Yes," James breathed. "It's-"

"Lettuce. So odd. I wonder who did it," Regulus said while chuckling a bit.

James realized he'd have to explain. "It's a holiday thing, Reg. Mistletoe."

Regulus gave him a long look. For the first time, James began to feel like maybe he was missing something. "Potter, not all plants are used as mistletoe. Mistletoe is a specific type of plant. It has little green leaves and white berries."

Oh, no.

He could feel himself turning red.

Oh, fuck.

"Potter? Did...did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus asked, his expression unreadable.

"No," he muttered, refusing to meet Regulus's eyes.

"Potter. Why did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus pushed, his voice almost gentle, now.

"Erm..." James sighed. 'I wanted to kiss you' sounded so desperate to say out loud.

"You thought it was mistletoe?" Regulus asked.

James squeezed his eyes shut, feeling unbelievably foolish. He nodded.

"And you hung it? And...led me to it? Why? As a joke?" Hurt. Regulus's voice sounded cold and hurt now.

James opened his eyes quickly. "What? No, I-"

"You thought it'd be funny to kiss me, to mess with me like that?" Regulus continued, looking angry, now. "Or were you trying to catch Evans as she went to her class, but you decided to settle for me, instead?"

This was not 'Step Four- Kiss Regulus'. This was not going right. And James was panicking. And sometimes James said stupid things when he panicked. "No, Reg! I just wanted an excuse to kiss you, because that's all I've been thinking about for weeks!"

Regulus stopped ranting then, and stared. "That's not true, Potter."

"Well it bloody well is! Ask Remus, or your brother, or Peter! You're really all I can talk about! It's pathetic!" James said, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I finally came up with such a good plan, and now I buggered it all up!"

But Regulus just took out his wand, and for a moment James thought maybe he was going to hex him, but he pointed it up toward the browning, wilted piece of lettuce on the ceiling.

Suddenly, it began to transform, to a sprig of small leaves and berries, a red bow tying it all together.

"That is mistletoe," Regulus murmured softly, yanking on James's collar and pulling their lips together.

Step four- check!

Hope you guys enjoyed! Click here to leave comments/kudos!

[storiesfromafan]

Traitor

A/N: its been a little while. Back with some more angst haha. This will be a 2 part, maybe even a 3 part 🙂

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem! Raventclaw Reader

Warnings: angst

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

It’s funny how you can go from happily in a relationship one minute and then sour, almost bitter from the ending of it, the next. That is what happened to you. Blissfully happy with Mattheo Riddle during your fifth year. You had spent your Easter holidays at home, accompanying your father to a Ministry party. You had been at your father’s side to start before finding yourself sitting alone. Sometime later your father had returned to you with two  familiar Slytherin boys in tow, Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle. Your father had business with Lucius Malfoy and had said you and the two males could keep each other company. It was a start to a budding friendship for the three of you. By the time you returned to Hogwarts you and Mattheo had a flirtatious thing going on. Soon it led to dating and by the end of May you were his girlfriend.

The rest of the year was learning about each other and learning how to function in a relationship. For the most of it, it was good. But slowly you started to see how possessive Mattheo could get, or his jealous tendencies. Though you learned it was due to his home life and up bringing. You talked it out with him as best you could, as he gave vague answers to your questions. You were satisfied with what you learnt. What would be red flags, were more pink after your talk. You didn’t push him more then needed, you didn’t want to cause him to shut off from you or end your relationship. So, fifth year ended with your relationship being solid, and happy.

After a decent summer holiday, the 1st of September returned and off to Hogwarts came around marking your sixth year. You returned with Mattheo at your side, hands locked together. Your relationship strong and seeming to only get stronger. Unfortunately, you didn’t foresee you’d make it to the New Year before Mattheo broke up with you. You asked him all the typically questions to why he was breaking up with you, and you got a typical answer from the brunet with the deepest brown eyes.

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies

Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew

That you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

You recall the 2nd of January; you were enjoying the afternoon sun in the courtyard when Mattheo approached you. You were all smiles when seeing him, greeting him before starting to talk about your upcoming classes in a few days. It wasn’t long before he cut you off, his tone harsh and a tad formal. It was unlike him to be like that. For the Mattheo you knew was considerate, patient and an attentive listener. This Mattheo was someone you didn’t know. Looking at him in confusion he took that as his cue to speak.

“Y/N, I have been thinking during Christmas break” he started looking down at his feet. “I have found the last almost seven months to have been a wonderful time together” he looked up at you with those deep brown eyes of his, they shone with guilt.

You felt a sudden cold sensation wash over you. “Theo, you’re…you’re not saying what I think your saying” you said shakily, scared eyes looking back at him.

He nodded his head once, “yes, it is Y/N”.

You felt sick with every word he said. You hadn’t even known there was a problem with your relationship. You thought you were both happy, and in love. But here he was, breaking up with you. And the first thing you thought of was her. The Slytherin girl named Anna Frost, blonde long locks, green eyes and petite form. Mattheo had over the last three months became close to the girl, his friend as he called her. But you always thought there was something there. Before telling yourself, you were just being silly, a little jealous.

“We have had so many amazing times together” a small sad smile forming on his lips before he went back to a blank expression. “But we’ve run our course Y/N/N. I hope we can still be friends”.

Friends. That was a slap to the face, adding salt to an exposed wound. How could he say that to you? It was like the Mattheo you knew was dead, and the person before you were an imposter. Or was this who he really was? Had he played you the whole time? No, he hadn’t. You had shared so many personal and private things together.

“I-I don’t understand” you sputtered, trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighed. “I had wanted to be as nice as possible about this” his tone cold. “Us, we are over. We are done”. And without waiting for your reply, Mattheo walked off. Leaving you alone, cold, mind reeling and uncomfortable with the eyes currently on you.

So, you gathered your belongings before rushing back to your Ravenclaw dorm room. Where you finally cried as it sunk in. Mattheo dumped you. Your whimsical romance was over. Your heart ripped out and stomped on by the Slytherin Devil himself.

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny

How you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

Gossip in the few days after your breakup told you that as soon as Mattheo broke up with you, he was running off to his blonde Slytherin friend. They were seen hanging out together, along with Draco, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire. All chatting and laughing away, like only ten minutes before, when he broke up with you, didn’t happen. He acted like nothing transpired, you hadn’t existed, or he’d been in a relationship with you. It hurt to hear that. The girls in your Ravenclaw dorm were there for you and told you before you heard it from anyone else.

But as your mind started to think everything over, you thought it funny how he ran off after breaking up with you to her. Now it sure as hell didn’t look like friends with them. Who goes from the girl they broke up with, to their female friend and act like their ex didn’t exist? The times you had thought you were being silly, and jealous, over the Slytherin girl were now not a laughing matter. His actions spoke loud and clear.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

Betrayal. The best word to describe what Mattheo had done to you. You had been there for him, for the good times and the bad. But also, the worst moments, which usually involved his home life. He would get letters, which he never showed you and you respected his privacy, but they would leave him almost a shell of himself. So, you would be the one to drag him somewhere you both could be alone. You’d hold him and tell him all the great things about him. Slowly building him back up till he was almost himself again. He had been so grateful for those moments. And the way he’d repay you was giving you all his attention when he could or taking you to Hogsmeade and making those dates so special. Mattheo treated you like a Princess for all the kindness you gave him.

Finally processing what had happened, you were left feeling sour, bitter from how it ended. And those feelings only got worse as after two weeks Mattheo and Anna started dating. It was the hot gossip Monday morning, as they walked into the Great Hall together holding hands. That had been how you both had entered the hall every mealtime, before parting ways to sit at respected tables, though your eyes were always watching the other. Mattheo and Anna sat side by side at the Slytherin table, that was on display to you. As you unconsciously sat where you had always sat. You looked away from them as you picked at your food, occasionally eating. But every now and then you would look to them. Anna fussed over Mattheo and laughed at whatever was said. Or there was the time you looked, and they were talking with Draco and Pansy, he smiled softly at their conversation while Anna held onto Mattheo’s arm.

Now you bring her around

Just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

With every encounter you had with the two; either shared classes, mealtimes, hallways, etc. Your mixed emotions grew. Seeing them together was a constant slap in the face. Such as Potions class. They were partners, Anna always making goo-goo eyes at Mattheo and doing anything to get close to him. It made you sick, you wanted to throw up. Thankfully your Potions partner and fellow Ravenclaw, Hugo Andrews, could see how it was effecting you. He was sweet, doing everything to distract you, getting you to focus on the potion Snape had you brewing.

But every now and then you would hear Anna’s stupid laugh. And you would wince, another hit to your crumbling resolve. When you would sneak a look, you would see Mattheo close to her, playing around and looking happy, almost in love. That was it. You turned away, focused on the potion and told yourself it was done.

Ain't it funny

All the twisted games

All the questions you used to avoid?

Ain't it funny?

Remember I brought her up

And you told me I was paranoid

Over time, as much as you pushed Mattheo from your mind, everything would resurface. Even more so when people would talk to you, either fishing for gossip or genuinely confused to what happened. And at random times you would go over everything in your head, trying to work out what happened.

But then one night, while laying awake in bed, you once again began to mull it all over. It was funny that over the three months of his new friendship you started out with subtle questions, before them getting more blunt. He would either tip toe around them, give short vague answers, or plain out tell you that you were over thinking it all. Yet part of you knew something hadn’t been right. And them getting together confirmed that.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

(Ah-ah-ah)

Saturday afternoon was a lazy one. You had taken to going for a walk, to clear your head and escape from the castle of gossip and your ex. The fresh air was nice, it was still cold but it was mid February. Which meant winter was almost over, and spring (your favourite season) was coming. Looking around the grounds, which still had some white covering it, green patches here and there. You couldn’t wait for the grass to be a vibrant green, and wild flowers to cover patches of the land.

You could already picture laying in the wild flowers, warm sun beaming down on you. You’d pick dandelions and blow the white sprouts from the stem, watching the wind carry off the seeds. But then you remembered how you would do that with Mattheo. How you would lounge together in the flowers, soaking up the sun. You would talk about school or random things while watching the sky. The sweet moments you both shared sent your heart aching.

The peace and quiet didn’t last, as you heard the faint crunch of snow under feet. Upon turning around you found the person you were just thinking about. You felt a rush of anger, how dare he walk where you usually went. How dare he have done many things to you, or to hurt you. Glaring at the approaching figure, you wanted him to know he was unwelcome. Hoping he would see your state, turn around & scurry off back to the dungeons of the castle, never to be seen again. But nope, you were wrong.

Mattheo had seen you leave the castle, he had watched you leave the front doors of the school, walk around the side of the building, past the turn off for the Quidditch area and down the familiar path you’d both taken. He knew you wanted to be alone, but he had to talk to you. Yes, he wasn’t stupid, he’d seen your reaction to everything that had been going on since your break up. He had even heard the gossip students were saying, majority of it being all lies. Part of him felt bad, responsible for your state.

The glare on your face told him he wasn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t back down. Sporting a blank face, Mattheo stared at you. “Y/N” he said with a nod of his head. “How are you?”

That was it. Hearing those words pass Mattheo Riddles lips opened up the floodgate of your emotions and thoughts. He would regret those words after you’re done with him. Your nostrils flared as you took in a sharp breath.

“You want to know how I am?” You asked a little too calmly, to which he nodded his head. “Well I don’t know. Maybe I am upset, maybe I am angry. Maybe I am confused. Or maybe I am all that and more Riddle” you spat out his surname.

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought you would be like this. He thought you would say you were sad and angry, you’d both talk it out and you’d both move on. He didn’t expect you would be furious, possibly wanting his blood. As the saying goes: Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned.

When she's sleeping in the bed we made

Don't you dare forget about the way

“Do you expect me to be fine? Happy for your new relationship?” You asked, spitting out the word relationship. “Do you expect me to act like the time we were together meant nothing? Like it never happened? I can’t, because it meant something to me...”

Mattheo moved from foot to foot, his calm and uncaring image starting to slip. “Y/N, I’m sorry you feel like this” he started, and you scoffed rolling your eyes. “I genuinely didn’t know you were taking it this hard-“

“Seriously!? Everyone with functioning eyes can see how I have been” you cut him off. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot if it doesn’t involve you, it wasn’t important”.

His eyes darker and focused on you. “No, that is not true”.

“Huh, it is. Its always about you. After all you got to know your knew girlfriend before ending it with me, and jumped into a relationship with her not long after we ended. Hence why it’s all about you, or else you’d have considered me and my feelings before doing what you did”.

Mattheo was silent for a moment, trying to keep calm. “I did think about you...I ended it because we ran our course. I didn’t want to string you along”.

You laughed bitterly. “Sure, tell yourself what you have to Riddle. You betrayed me. 'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry, for the way I hurt, yeah?” it was a rhetorical question. “You'd talk to her, when we were together. You gave me your word, but that didn't matter”.

“That’s not fair” Mattheo argued, but you weren’t having it.

“It took you two weeks, to go off and date her. Guess you didn't cheat. But you're still... you're still a traitor” you said it all in a rush, letting everything you’d been holding back out. “Yeah, you're still a traitor!”

Getting the words and feelings out released a weight you’d been carrying around. He needed to see how hurt you were, how furious you were, how frantic you were. Mattheo needed to know he had broken you, but now you were going to build yourself back up. You were done with him, done with how you felt.

Mattheo stood there like a deer in headlights. He hadn’t expected you to say what you said, or really unload all you had. Nor did he blame you. He deserved what he got. He figured you would be hurt but not to this extent. Mattheo Riddle had hurt you deeply, and now you were done with him for good. And he didn’t like that. If only he hadn’t had to do what he did. If only it could have been different.

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything you decided it was time to leave. Turning from the boy before you, you didn’t bother to look at him. Or else you’d have seen the hurt in his eyes, along with unshed tears. Or how his shoulders slumped, or how weak he was right then.

After taking a few steps you stopped, but not looking back you said; “God, I wish that you had thought this through...before I went and fell in love with you”.

With those final words, the final goodbye, you left Mattheo alone. He watched your retreating form, with each step his heart cracking. And then when you were gone from sight, his heart shattered. For he had not wanted to break up with you, he didn’t want to jump into a relationship with Anna, he didn’t want to hurt you, and he didn’t want you to walk away from him for good.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this to you Y/N/N...” Mattheo said softly to the silence around him. “But if I didn’t, he would have hurt you. And I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t let you get hurt”. The tears in his eyes slowly fell. “It hurts to have you hate me...but if it saves you from my father, I will carry this pain...”

A/N: hope you enjoyed. & part 2 will be up soon 🙂

[yan-lorkai]

"Oh honey, I know, I know." Your soft best friend's voice sounded over your ears like some kind of balm, Vil held your weeping figure close to his chest, tracing the strands of your hair as he tried his best to soothe you.

The tears drying in your eyes were a painful reminder of how you found out your little crush was spreading horrible rumors about you as well as calling you names. And you normally wouldn't care but it didn't make sense. In all of your interactions, he'd been so sweet and caring.

If it was anyone else who told you this unfortunate news, maybe you wouldn't have believed it. But Vil and Rook wouldn't lie to you, they had no reason to and so, you let yourself fall apart.

Because you was one step away from declaring yourself to that colleague. Just as you were one step away from declaring to several other people that you had liked in the past. And maybe fate hates you because all the guys you liked were assholes. All of them without exception did something that broke your heart and destroyed your confidence. And all of them without exception always fell to their knees and begged your forgiveness, said that they did nothing wrong and that someone had set them up.

What a ridiculous excuse, you thought.

"I'll never let another boy hurt you ever again." Vil spoke after a long time in silence, lilac eyes stared at your sad form still lying on his chest and you didn't feel the slightest desire to get up at any time in the future. If only he wasn't so strict, you'd already be eating your second pot of ice cream and listening to sad songs. "No one else will hurt you, I promise."

Half sniffling, half laughing, you looked at him like he was the most precious thing you'd ever seen. His friendship and his ever so sure words always gave you a sense of security, and until you found a way to go home you hoped he would stay by your side.

"But what if they try anyway?" Your voice was weak, fearful. You almost didn't want to fall in love with anyone else if it meant someone could cheat on you, lie to you, or, like this time, spread rumors about you.

"If they try anything I'll be there." Another voice sounded in the room almost making you jump. And the door opened, revealing Rook who was carrying an incredibly red pie. The scent of strawberries wafting through the air. His green eyes took you in slowly, memorizing every little thing. "Mon ange, as long as we're by your side, there's no reason to be afraid of anything or anyone. But let's think about something else now, oui?"

Vil eyed the pie suspiciously. He looked about to protest when you looked at him with your best puppy dog eyes, begging him to just let you have a bite of the delicious dessert Rook had probably spent some time trying to bake.

The model let out a sigh but was quick to remove the plate from the hunter's hands while the other, silly and cheerful, helped you to sit down and dropped a kiss on your forehead. The little things they did warm your heart and make you forget about it almost effectively.

"Say ah, Mon Ange." Rook encouraged, massaging your shoulders and kissing your neck softly.

And you rolled your eyes. "Ah!"

Vil spooned the pie over to you, watching as you happily ate it. The image was enough to make his heart ache with so much pent up affection, the model looked at his astute companion and they both found they felt the same way about you. Affection. Love. A will to protect you. You were just a little bunny who hopped up to its predators and decided it wanted to be close to them.

So like a little bunny you were captured.

"Vil…Rok…" Your words all blended together as black dots danced over your eyes. Everything around you was so light, so cold and the last thing you saw was the expression on your friends' faces as you passed out.

You don't know but one day, you'll thank them for protecting you from the asshole guys you thought you fell in love with. Oh, if only you knew what they were saying, what they were doing, your friends couldn't sit back and watch it happen. They had to act and get rid of them, an accident is always convenient and afterwards they could always smother you with their love, the love you seemed to need.

"Let's get them to a safe place." Hummed Rook looking excited. And Vil agreed.

[flatoutin-eaurouge]

Birthday boy

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

Happy Birthday to my fave! 🥰 I feel so bad about the sad Mika birthday, but Michael is there to console him and cheer him up 🥰

He watched them go by. One by one. Red, green, yellow, blue: the bright colours of the Formula One 1993 season. Despite his red and white McLaren issued clothing, he was only staring at the yellow and green rocketship. Glued to the fence next to the McLaren pit wall. Part of the the team but not "part of the team", like a fifth wheel on a Formula One car. Useless. Extra load and no function.

The yellow and green Benneton blazed past him again. The sheer speed of the car almost blending the colours a lime green. The colours reminded him of his former team Lotus. A year ago when he was still racing. When he was still sharing a track with twenty plus cars. Right now he was only driving circles and straight lines on airstrips, testing road cars with Johnny Palmer, or racing all by himself on an empty circuit. His only opponent the clock.

He followed the lime coloured car with narrow eyes. Maybe it was instinct. He wasn't here to support his team. He couldn't care less about Ayrton or Andretti. He wanted to chase the lime car... or rather, the person driving it. Like three years ago. Macau 1990.

He didn't hold a grudge towards Michael Schumacher. He deserved a seat and did not make a stupid "gamble move" like himself. Mika was jealous of him... sure, but in a good way. Not because he didn't grant Michael a F1 seat. He just wanted to join him so badly.

After their suspicion towards each other during their Formula Three days, they had become friends really quickly as soon as they were reunited in F1. They were both just "boys" in a grown men world. They shared experiences with each other, spent downtime with each other. Just appreciated each other's company. Of all people on the grid, Michael came closest to what he would call a "friend".

He couldn't wait to celebrate his birthday with his Formula One friend. Despite not racing at the weekend himself, Mika had chosen to celebrate his birthday in the paddock. He remembered how much fun his birthdays were at Lotus. Besides that, he felt that he was too old to go home and celebrate his birthday with mom and dad.

By the time the qualification was nearing its ending, Mika had the metal bars of the fence imprinted on his face in red lines. He felt like a caged animal. Like a wild beast, but with the outward appearance of a particulary golden-haired breed of puppy.

As he made his way back to the garage, he walked past Ron, who ruffled his hair fatherly and smiled at him like he knew more about the next step in his career. Ron kept telling him it wouldn't be long. It was September - the end of the season was approaching and Mika was slowly losing patience. Ron must have felt it, because he wrapped his arm around his protégé's neck and pulled him against his frame.

"Did you enjoy watching the qualification?"

Mika frowned. "No."

Ron chuckled. "You don't like to watch from the sidelines? Thats okay, Mika. You don't have to get used to it."

It frustrated Mika that Ron Dennis never gave him clarity. He never mentioned a date or a grand prix he would be given a chance. He knew he was much quicker than Andretti and it had nothing to do with misplaced arrogance.

Later that evening he walked back to his hotel. He didn't have a motorhome. He wasn't "part of the team" like that. He was forced to sleep away from the paddock and his card was the only thing giving him access to the terrain.

He sat down on his bed and stared at the floor with a blank expression. If he would end up like this at exactly the same time tomorrow, his birthday would be completely ruined. He wiped a hand through his blonde hair and tried to blink away the sudden wetness in his eyes. What the hell? There was no reason to cry... yet?

He stared at the black brick on his night stand. The phone his parents would probably call him on the next morning... maybe Keke... maybe the girl he met a few nights ago if she remembered... but not Michael. Michael didn't have his phone number. A shame.

It was the next morning. Of all people he thought there was a possibility they would call him, only his parents did. Mom and dad were very proud of him and loved him dearly.

"Mika, kulta, I'm so sad you don't come home to celebrate your birthday with us anymore," his mother cried. "I'm looking at your baby photos right now. You were such a sweet little pumpkin."

Mika grimaced. He was partly glad his mother wasn't here to celebrate with him in the McLaren garage, because the baby talk and the embarassing stories would definitely be shared with his collegues.

"Keijo send you a birthday card. He is on holiday as you know. He wasn't sure whether to send it to Monaco or Vantaa, but he thought the message would reach you sooner from here."

Mika smiled. Keke wasn't the most empathetic person but that was very thoughtful of him. He had a great relationship with his manager after all.

"Is it fun over there?"

Mika rubbed his forehead. "Well, beside you and dad, no one really called me."

"Oh, darling. Did Mika Salo or Jyrki call you?"

"No, I hope to see JJ at the track today."

"Okay, have fun today, sweetheart! Grandma sends you a hug and a kiss."

"Thanks. Will see you soon."

He hung up the phone and stood up, stretching his limbs. Ready to get dressed. Dressed into his "civilian clothes". He missed packing his race suit for weekends like these.

As he made it to track an hour later, he was glad the journalists didn't give shit about him. He could freely walk to the McLaren garage, but he was unpleasantly surprised by how none of the drivers he knew from his active Formula One years seemed to acknowledge him.

Fine, he didn't know every driver's birthday either, but still...

As he walked past Jyrki Järvilehto and waved at him with a big radiant smile, JJ seemed to quicken his pace.

"Hi, JJ!" Mika quickly called after him to get him to notice his younger compatriot. "Jyrki wait! How are you?"

The tall blonde stopped for a moment and seemed a bit annoyed by the disruption. "Hello, Mika. I'm fine, thanks."

"I hope you do well today. How is you car doing?"

"Mika, I don't have time right now. They're waiting for me. I have to get ready for the race, you know."

"Right." Mika's shoulders slumped. His smile turned into a pout and he started to blink rapidly with his eyes. He could at least remember his birthday, right?

"Jyrki, do you know what day it is?"

"Race day," the older Finn replied curtly and turned his back on him.

Mika stood there watching him go. His cheeks turned red in shame and he had to concentrate to resist the urge to cry. He felt like such a loser, because no one seemed to be having time for him.

It was no different at the McLaren garage. Ron had his own way of celebrating birthdays. Luckily he did not "announce"  Mika's birthday in a full packed garage. The consequence was that no one really knew about it. So it was quiet and a day like all others.

Ron took him apart, and together with race engineer Steve Hallam they shared a table at the McLaren canteen. Ron had given him the most boring birthday cake ever. Just one piece of cake with a small swirl of clotted cream and a little candle on it.

He felt like a little kid sharing the table with these balding men. No Ayrton or Andretti in sight. Mika did however appreciate it a lot, because Ron really cared about him in his own boring special way.

"Are you enjoying today?" Ron asked him with a smile.

Mika shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He didn't feel like sharing his negative experiences from this morning.

"Good! I have a gift for you."

Ron rummaged in a plastic bag and shoved a small box wrapped in grey wrapping paper over the table into his direction.

"Happy Birthday, Mika! We are very happy to have you on the team. I foresee a big future for you!"

Mika smiled at him. "Thank you, Ron." He grabbed the box and started to unwrap the little package. Inside was a little replica of the McLaren road car he tested this summer in Sicily.

"Oh, it's very nice!" Mika turned the car around in his hands. "Almost hit 400 km/h with that thing. Thank you."

Ron grabbed Mika's wrist and stared at him intently. "I know what you're thinking... That should be the MP4/8. I will give you one for when you drive your first grand prix for us. This road car test is a small step in your development. Every small step counts."

"The MP4/8? So that means... this season?" Mika blinked at his team boss with his big blue puppy eyes.

"Don't be so curious, boy. You will find out when it happens."

After they finished their boring birthday cake, they parted ways and Mika was on his own again. He stuffed the McLaren replica in his jacket pocket and took a stroll around the paddock, getting painfully used to the idea of no one remembering his birthday.

He just went on with it like a responsible adult, but deep down his little heart ached.

He was the kind of guy to get overly excited about festive days. He was very thoughtful when it came to other people's birthdays. He spent weeks brainstorming about gifts and wrapping paper. He messaged people at midnight to be "the first" to congratulate them. He wrote long meaningful texts in birthday cards. He made sure to select the festive ones when he was foiling through his post stamps.

Mika's lips turned into a pout as he was staring at the empty paddock. Keke's holiday was truly bad timing. At least his manager could have arranged a birthday lunch and rope JJ into coming. Maybe he could have forced his compatriot to buy him a nice present.

Mika heard the sounds of the engines on the grid starting. The race was about to start. He decided to forget about the people who had forgotten about him and stared at the yellow and green car again. Michael had a permit. He had done nothing wrong. He did not have Mika's phone number and he did not cross paths with Mika in the paddock this morning.

Mika had high hopes for after the race... maybe he would even go and look for the German himself. There was no way Michael would have forgotten about his birthday too, after the efforts Mika had put in for his birthday on January the 3rd at the beginning of this year.

This afternoon was a repetition of yesterday afternoon. Mika was glued to the fence to follow the action on the track, wishing he was among the participating drivers. The replica of the McLaren road car burned inside his pocket. It reminded him painfully how his career was put on hold. Ron's words suddenly hurt him: "This road car test is a small step in your development. Every small step counts." - It was a bloody step backard! A step backward he felt he didn't deserve!

The cars blazed past him, making his hair wave in the sudden gust of wind. He loved the wind in his hair and resisted the urge to smoothen it back down in it's usual position. Every lap they passed him, his hair was rearranged by the airflow.

He stared at the electronic board that broadcasted the current positions on the grid. Mika smiled when he saw Michael on P1. See Ron! Young people in Formula One are not a gamble!

The type of jealousy he felt was purely based on missing out on battles with "the Michael". On missing out oppertunities to gain experience and become better. What did he learn from testing cars? Qualifying, sure... but is the race itself not more important?

He couldn't believe the negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity pestered him today - of all days!

Those negative thoughts accumulated when he realized he couldn't reach a victorious Michael Schumacher after the race. The man was blocked by a wall of journalists.

Mika tried to wave at him, but Michael didn't see him, way too focused on his press duties. Mika realized that he wouldn't be able to celebrate his birthday with Michael through no fault of his own. His rising star was out of reach... literally and figuratively.

It added to the realization that he himself had become a nobody on the grid. At least this meant that he didn't have to fend off journalists on his way to the exit.

He went back to the hotel with tears gleaming in his eyes. He tried to surpress them and keep them from streaming down his face until he had reached his hotel room. He didn't want to be seen crying. Everyone already thought he was "too small" for a big team like McLaren.

He didn't say goodbye to the people in the McLaren garage, he just paced to the exit of the paddock. Next year he will go home to Vantaa to celebrate with mom and dad, grandma and the neighborhood kids he hadn't seen in so many years.

He stared in the mirror of the hotel elevalor and was faced with a broken soul. He noticed the damp tracks on his cheeks, and realised holding back his tears had been to no avail. It was not the first time he cried as an adult and he knew it wouldn't be the last time.

The key of his room trembled in his hand as he tried to open the lock. He pushed the door open in frustration and fell face down on the soft duvet of his bed. He yanked the metal replica of the McLaren road car from his pocket and wanted to throw it, but halted almost instantly. Instead he carefully placed it on his nightstand.

He wanted to fall asleep with his clothes on and skip a lonely dinner. Why was he so hurt by people forgetting about his birthday? He wasn't a child anymore!

Big fat tears streamed down the sides of his face and soaked into the pillow. He was considering calling his parents to atleast have a little conversation with them.

As he propped himself up om his elbows to reach for the phone, a buzzer echoed through his room. He startled... the intercom!

He got up from the bed and walked to the little device hanging on his wall. He pressed the tiny red button to speak and tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.

"This is room 210. Yes?"

"Hello, Sir. There is a mister Schumacher here to see you."

Mika felt his heart skip a beat. Was Michael really here to see him? Was he here to celebrate with him? A sudden warm blush on his cheeks evaporated the tracks of his tears.

"Send him up. Thank you."

Mika rushed to his bathroom to try and erase the hints of sadness from his face. He looked into the mirror and carded a hand through his messy blonde locks. A little panicked he started searching for his comb and hair gel. Michael could be here any minute!

He combed his hair, then stuck his face under the cold tap water to get rid of his puffy eyes and red nose. The cold water calmed him, but his heart rate went up again when he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Give me a second." He rubbed a towel over his face, hoping that his efforts had been succesful.

He rushed to the door of his room and opened it with an enthousiastic sway. "Michael!"

The German immediately went for a hug, taking the Finn in his arms and clapping him on his back. "Congrats, Mika!"

Mika sighed, completely relaxing in Michael's lingering hold. Not at all questioning how long the hug lasted. "Congrats to you too! Fantastic drive today!"

Michael squeezed his shoulder as he slowly let go of him. "Twenty-five! That means you're allowed to drink now." He conjured up the bottle of Moët champagne he had hidden behind his back.

Mika rolled with his eyes. "Funny guy! You don't know how Finnish kids are raised eh?"

Michael chuckled. He showed Mika the cork, still covered in its golden wrapping. "Did you see the podium?"

"No, unfortunately I did not."

"Well, I kept the bottle closed. Nobody knows that I did it for you. But I did it for you, because you should be up there with me! It's a crime that they put you in a test car." He suddenly noticed how Mika was tearing up. Little tears pearled down the Finn's pale cheeks.

"Hey," Michael rested a hand on Mika's shoulder. "Don't cry. What happened?"

Mika's throat was screwed thight. He shook his head. "Nothing, just a bit tired."

Michael's hand slid down to his elbow as he started to direct the Finn towards the little sofa in the corner of his room. "Sit down and talk. Something is wrong. You shouldn't be crying on your birthday."

Mika sighed, rubbing his eyes as his shoulders shook on the rhythm of his sobs. "You're very kind, Michael," he hiccupped. "Very kind. I wish more people were like you."

Michael reached out his hand to wipe a tear off the Finn's cheekbone. "It's not like I did something special. It's your birthday. What's the matter? Are you okay?" He started caressing Mika's back, rubbing soothing circle over the fabric of his shirt.

Mika stared at the floor, too choked up to say anything. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed about being so vulnerable in front of Michael. Embarassed about tearing up so quickly. Embarrassed about being a test car driver.

Michael gently held his face between two hands, trying to look into those saphire pools of tears. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, mein Hübscher."

Mika needed an outlet. The German was clearly not taking advantage of his vulnerability. He was not laughing at him. He was extremely kind, genuine, and caring. He shouldn't be afraid to tell him what he went through today.

"I had a shit birthday, Michael! My parents were the only people who called me in the morning. Ron had organised a very childish and boring birthday party. It was very kind but the setting was horrible. You know, two balding men giving me advises and trying to justify that I had to take a step back. Trying to 'sell' that being a test driver is good for my development. And an - I hope not, but I am afraid - former friend who completely ignored me."

Mika's tears dropped to the floor beneath them. "I can't help that I care about birthdays and nice gestures. One shouldn't feel lonely during a birthday."

Michael had started caressing Mika's soft blonde locks, trying to calm him. He stroked a strand of golden hair behind his rival's ear. "I feel so sorry for you, Mika. Know that I'm here for you! I'm still grateful for the fun day I had in January."

Mika smiled at him through his tears. "You are a true friend, Michael. I am glad you had fun in January."

Michael reached out for Mika again, taking him in a warm embrace. "Dry your tears, Mika. How do you want us to celebrate your birthday? I thought about celebrating at the hotel bar or go out and get wasted, but if you want to stay here I completely understand."

Mika wiped his tears away with the hem of his shirt and stood up. He carded a hand through his hair. "Getting wasted sounds fun!" He let his eyes roam over Michael, who was dressed in a black shirt with the top buttons undone. "You look very dashing by the way. I like the fit. I can't have you walk around looking like that with an under-dressed vagabond like me."

He walked to his closet and took off his McLaren issued polo shirt, chucking it to the floor.

Michael blinked with his eyes, taken aback by how at ease Mika was with him in close proximity. Firstly he was staring blatantly at the Finn's fit and slender upper body, before he strategically directed his gaze towards something else in the room... a lamp, what a nice looking lamp! The blush on his face, betrayed how his mind was occupied with something else than a piece of furniture.

"Let's go," Mika called, as soon as he had finnished buttoning up his marine blue shirt. "I'm glad you are here, Michael. We're going to have some fun! I promise no tears!"

Michael smiled at the Finn. He stretched out his arm and let it rest on top of Mika's shoulders. "I trust you to keep that promise! All I want is to see you smile."

[skyward-floored]

Temple of Darkness

Four swords manga scene rewriiiiiite

I forget specifically which number chapter this is, but it’s the one right at the end of the first volume with Blue and Red and the Temple of Darkness. I didn’t change a lot either— I mostly wanted to see how good of a job I could do writing out one of the scenes— but I’m happy with how it turned out :)

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Blue isn’t planning on admitting it to anyone, but if he ever sees snow again, it’ll be too soon.

He gives his fingers a flex as he and Red walk through another portal the fairy makes, just to be absolutely sure he can still move them. They seem fine, but who knows? An ache still runs through his skin from being trapped in the ice, and there’s a small pit in his stomach whenever he thinks back to the time he spent stuck like that, blurry and indistinct as it was.

But he’s not there anymore. He can move, and breathe, and he should be focusing on finding Green, which is more important than his dumb urge to make a fire and take a nap beside it.

“Where are we now?” Blue asks in an effort to ignore his icy thoughts, looking around at where the fairy has brought them. There’s a structure ahead in the distance, but not much else. “I don’t see Green anywhere. ...I still think this is a trap.”

“We both heard him though! He’s got to be here somewhere,” Red says as he looks around, optimistic as ever. He points at the building. “Maybe he’s in there.”

“In there?” Blue says with a raised eyebrow, looking over the large temple built halfway into the rocks, foreboding dark stone reaching up to the sky. It doesn’t exactly seem like a place someone would want to go.

“Sure!” Red says optimistically, and Blue huffs, gesturing at the place.

“Why would he go in some creepy old temple?”

“Why not?”

Blue finds he doesn’t have a good argument for that.

So he follows Red towards the building, an uneasy feeling growing in him the closer they get. A prickle down his spine makes him shiver, but Blue shakes it off. He’s probably just cold from the ice still.

“This place sure looks creepy,” Red says as they get closer, his voice more quiet. The fairy that Red picked up somewhere is sitting on his shoulder, nervously fluttering her wings.

“It used to be called the Temple of Light,” she says as the building looms above them. “But... the rise of evil has turned it into the Temple of Darkness.”

“Well that’s great,” Blue says as they stop in front of the doors, Red eyeing them a bit nervously. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe we can come back and take a vacation here—”

The doors creak as something pushes them, and Blue’s hand goes for his sword as Red jumps, both of them staring as footsteps approach.

“You’re finally here. I’ve been waiting.”

Unfortunately, Blue would recognize that obnoxious know-it-all voice anywhere.

“Vio?” he asks.

“Vio!” Red shouts at the same time, his face lighting up in ecstasy as the purple hero steps through the doors. “Vioooooo!”

Red rushes forward onto the steps of the temple to greet him, and as Blue follows him at a much slower pace, Vio gives them both that insufferable smile he always has plastered on his face.

...Blue certainly hasn’t missed it or anything.

“You’re safe! I’m soooo glad!” Red continues in an ecstatic voice, and Vio edges away from him when he goes in for a hug, merely patting him on the arm.

“So whaddya mean you’ve been waiting?” Blue asks, and Vio looks at him, expression unchanged.

“Green is inside too,” he says, gesturing to the doorway. ��Hurry on in.”

“Really?! That’s great!” Red cheers as Vio pushes the doors open further, the same ominous creak accompanying the action.

Despite the creepy temple, Blue can’t help let a bit of Red’s optimism rub off on him as they follow Vio inside. Finding Green and Vio both in one fell swoop makes their job immensely easier. Now they’ll finally all be together again, after... he’s actually not sure how long apart.

He was encased in ice, sue him.

Point is, with them all together again, they can get back to stopping Shadow Link and Vaati, and finally save Zelda.

Blue nudges Red with a grin as they trail behind Vio, barely even caring how creepy the temple is. “With the four of us all back together, we just have to get the... Four Sword... and...”

He trails off as he takes in where Vio has brought them. It’s a large room with platform of some kind in the middle, a rectangular stone box at the top. Green’s sword is resting on the lid of it, and a strange feeling goes through Blue at the sight of it without its owner.

“...What’s this?” he asks Vio, staring at it in unease as Red peeks over his shoulder. A coffin?

Vio doesn’t look at him.

“The truth is...” he says quietly. “Green is dead.”

Something in Blue cracks.

“Wh... WHAT?!” he shouts, at the same moment that Red gasps out a horrified “no!”.

Vio still doesn’t look at either of them, and Red’s eyes well with tears as he drops to his knees, resting a horrified palm over the lid. Blue feels his hands begin to shake, and he moves forward and shoves the lid of the coffin off, determined to see Green for himself.

Then stares in disbelief at the sight that meets him.

“It’s empty!” he and Red say at the same time, Red’s voice shocked while Blue’s demands an answer.

“A monster engulfed him in flame,” Vio answers, voice still quiet, almost detached. “There was nothing left. It’s so sad...”

“It... it can’t be! Oh Green!” Red wails, tears already pouring from his eyes.

Blue can only stare at the empty coffin, a million different thoughts running through his head as his shaking hands grip the edge.

Anger is what shoves its way to the forefront though, anger at Vaati, anger at Shadow Link, anger at the monster that killed his brother so thoroughly that all they have to bury is an empty coffin and at Green for being stupid enough to die—

“We’ll never be four heroes again,” Vio continues, and Blue almost tells him to shut up when Red lets out a louder sob. “And there’s no way we can complete our quest.”

Red truly wails then, grief and the weight of what failure means hitting him and Blue both. Red presses his head to the coffin, and Blue feels the anger in him swell to something overwhelming. He grips Green’s sword in his hand so hard it hurts, his vision blurry and hot as Red sobs beside him.

“Green how could you?!” he shouts, voice breaking with grief, and he slams Green’s sword against the stone of his empty coffin.

The sword breaks into pieces.

Red jumps, and Blue stares in shock at the pieces of the sword, the blade crumbling, hilt cracked with pieces falling off.

“It’s... it’s a fake... made of stone,” he says as he and Red both stare in disbelief.

Then Blue feels the anger roar to life in him again as he realizes what this means, and he whirls back towards the purple hero.

“Vio, what’re you up to?!”

But Vio isn’t there.

“He... he’s gone!” Red gasps, voice still thick with tears. He and Blue both look around, and laughter echoes through the halls, high and cackling.

“Putting an end to you two fools!” the voice laughs in response to Blue’s question, and the ground shakes beneath them.

Monsters burst up through the stones, countless legs wriggling and pinchers gnashing as they loom over them. Blue can’t remember what they’re called, but he doesn’t waste time trying to figure it out, mind already swinging towards how to beat them.

“Both Vio and Green have already fallen into my clutches,” the echoing voice continues with no small glee. “The temple of darkness will be your grave!”

“Run!” Blue shouts as the voice tells the monsters to attack, and he and Red bolt out of the way as the moldorms dive at them.

The voice continues to laugh as they run deeper into the temple, Blue trying to put distance between them and the monsters. He hears a small noise over all the snarling and distant laughter, and looks back to see that Red has stopped moving, kneeling on the ground with his head bowed.

“C’mon Red! What’re you doing?!” Blue shouts, and Red looks at him through his hair, eyes shining with devastation.

“Blue I... I can’t go on,” he says in a small voice, dull with shock. “Green and Vio... both gone...”

Blue blinks at him, then marches back and grabs Red’s sleeve, trying to pull him to his feet.

“Pull yourself together! This is the trap!” he snaps, dragging Red to his feet as the monsters catch up. “They can’t beat us so they want to break our spirits!”

The possibility of Green and Vio truly being gone doesn’t even cross Blue’s mind. He doesn’t let it. It’s not a problem for now, not while they’re being chased by monsters trying to kill them.

Red doesn’t reply to Blue’s words, and as a monster lunges forward, Blue shoves him behind him and away from the snapping pinchers.

Red cries his name as the mandibles snap around Blue, and he grunts, wedging his sword in the moldorm’s mouth just in time to stop it from chopping him in two. He wrestles against its strength for a moment, arms straining as it tries to crush him. But then Blue shoves his blade down, slicing the moldorm straight down its middle.

He hits the ground running as it falls to pieces, and succeeds in pulling Red to his feet, grabbing his arm and tugging him deeper into the temple.

Red stumbles a little, but Blue doesn’t let go of him, slipping his grip down to hold Red’s hand instead of his arm. Red squeezes it tight, fingers trembling a little, and Blue holds back a sigh.

Red obviously isn’t going to be much help, not in this state. Which means it’s up to Blue to get them both through this alive.

Great.

It gets darker as they run, and colder too, but there’s nowhere else to go, so Blue keeps pulling Red along by the hand, going deeper and deeper into the Temple of Darkness. Red’s hand is shaking a little still, and the occasional soft sniffle reaches Blue’s ears, but Blue ignores them, and keeps going.

They run into what Blue thinks is a larger room, but it’s so dim he can barely tell. The moment they go through the doorway it slams shut behind them, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

“Ugh! Trapped again,” he growls in frustration, wiping some sweat off his brow. “It’s pitch black in here, I can barely see my stupid hand in front of me.”

Laughter echos somewhere again, but Blue ignores it, still catching his breath from his and Red’s sprint. He looks back at Red to see if he’s ready to keep moving, and huffs in annoyance.

Red is sitting silently against a pillar, his hands on his knees and expression vacant. Blue looks around for any monsters in the immediate vicinity, then glares down at the silent hero.

“Red! Quit your moping! Green and Vio aren’t dead,” he snaps, looking down at the fake sword of Green’s. It’s a convincing fake, but definitely that, the weight too heavy, the gold and green chipping from the handle. “That Vio we saw was probably just Shadow Link in disguise!”

“I don’t know,” Red says quietly. “He seemed pretty real.”

The response is so unlike Red that Blue is actually thrown a little, but a sudden cold feeling distracts him, prickling up his spine and giving him goosebumps.

Ugh, why did dark magic have to feel cold of all things?

Red puts his head to his knees, visibly wilting. “And where’s the real Vio?”

“Who cares?!” Blue snaps, looking around as the coldness intensifies. His heartbeat is speeding up, but he ignores it. “The whole reason we fell into this trap was ‘cuz we were so busy crying over Green!”

Red looks up then, tear tracks barely visible in the darkness. “Blue, aren’t you worried about the others?”

Blue pauses.

Yes, a little voice says in his mind, remembering how they’ve been split apart, the words of the echoing voice ringing through his ears, uncertain grief for Green and possibly Vio too still lurking in the shadows.

But he knows Green and Vio have both made it out of tough situations before. He knows they’re tough, they’re him after all, and if Blue is still here, then there’s no reason for them not to be.

“Not really,” he replies.

Red looks at him in disbelief. “...Seriously?”

The laugh echoes again as tears well bright in Red’s eyes, and suddenly he’s on his feet, grabbing at Blue’s tunic and giving him a watery glare.

“You can even make me mad!” he shouts, tears spilling over again as his voice breaks. “Were you stuck in that ice so long that your heart froze?! How can you not care?”

“Back off, Red!” Blue snaps back, ignoring the sting his words leave, cold sinking over him all over again. “You don’t get—”

“HEY! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” a different voice howls, “I’M THE MONSTER HERE!”

Red and Blue freeze, and turn around to see a giant, snarling poe looming over them, glaring at them and baring its fangs.

...They run away screaming.

Unfortunately it’s still black as pitch in the room they’re in, and Blue doesn’t make it too far before he slams right into something made of very solid stone.

He yelps as pain radiates up his face, most sharply in his nose, and he’s so distracted by the blood dripping down his lip that he almost doesn’t notice the little ball of light that flitters by.

“Fairy!” Red calls in relief, and Blue blinks over at the little creature. Huh. He hadn’t even realized she’d left until now. “Where have you been?” Red asks as he reaches out to her, her glow lighting up the smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrified of evil energy!” she apologizes, voice still a little weak, and she flutters off with a purpose. “Come! This way!”

Blue wipes the blood off his face, nose still stinging, and the fairy leads them through the room, her light bright as a beacon in the utter darkness that surrounds them. She leads them around a corner, and Blue blinks rapidly at the light that meets them. A lantern hangs from a hook on the wall, glowing a warm orange, and Blue takes it, relieved at a reliable source of light.

...And warmth.

“A lantern!” Red smiles, looking more like his old self with the discovery. His voice is still dull, but it’s lightened somewhat. “Thanks! Now we can see where we’re going!”

Blue almost smiles, then stops in his tracks as the cold feeling rushes back, striking him like an arrow and making their fairy freeze with terror.

A figure drifts out of the darkness, the same giant poe that scared them earlier. Blue and Red stare up at it as it looms closer, licking its lips, and Red grabs his arm with a scared look.

“You saved me the trouble of bringing you here myself!” the poe hisses, a few Bubbles floating by, skulls clattering as they quickly get out of the way. “This dark and unholy place is my home... a place of pure evil.”

It glides closer, and Blue feels that awful cold intensify, the one that reminds him of being trapped in the ice. Slowly freezing to death, every bit of him numb, unsure if he would ever be rescued.

It feels like pure despair.

“I can taste your fear, so delicious...” the poe chuckles, licking its lips, “but don’t worry. I’ll put you out of your misery soon.”

The cold feeling is sunk into Blue’s very bones now, worse than being trapped in the ice, terror rooting him in place so harshly he can’t so much as wiggle his toes.

I can’t move, he thinks in horror, gasping as he watches the poe stop directly in front of him, extending a ghostly hand. I can’t move, I can’t move I can’t move I can’t move again—

The hand settles above him, cold so intense it burns, and Blue feels something tug, something deep inside of him, something that shouldn’t ever be moved.

Then it’s being pulled out, and Blue can’t stop his scream. Horrible pain and unnatural wrongness tear through him as whatever it is is slowly, agonizingly, pulled out of him, and he feels like he might throw up.

“How sweet,” the poe purrs, laughing at his scream. “I love the taste of a soul trembling with fear!”

Red whimpers his name, but Blue barely hears it, mind nearly overwhelmed with fear and pain. He twitches as his soul is tugged around, the big poe muttering to itself, and Blue falls to his knees as the poe gives it a jolt.

“Yes... Green and Vio made great appetizers,” it says as it hungrily licks its lips, “but you two are the main course.”

Red sobs out his name as the poe starts tugging again, and Blue can’t even scream this time, breath stolen from him. The pain grows right to the edge of truly unbearable, but something about what the poe said sticks in Blue’s mind, trickling past the hopelessness and urging him not to give up.

He fights desperately past the pain and panic and coldness that’s only growing deeper— colder than anything he’s ever felt before— in order to speak.

“I... might...” he gets out, shaking with effort as his hand grips around the lantern, “have fallen for your tricks, but... Green, and V-Vio...”

Something warm fights against the coldness in Blue’s chest, and he shakily raises his head to glare at the poe.

“...they never would have! Y-you’re... hiding something! So let’s shed some light on the matter!” he yells, and using every bit of his strength, he thrusts the lantern into the Poe’s face.

It screeches and covers its eyes, releasing whatever it was of Blue’s that it had grabbed. Blue snaps back into himself with a full-body jolt, dizzy from the echo of pain in his soul, but he forces himself to focus past it. Later, it can wait until later.

“My eyes! Cursed light!” the poe howls, and their fairy jingles suddenly with an idea.

“Look, torches!” she cries, flying over to a brazier, “use the lantern to light the torches! Light drives off evil!”

Blue springs into action, Red still shivering in place with fear, and he lights them as fast as possible, his numb legs stumbling from remaining cold and fear.

“Oh no, we’ll have none of that!” the poe booms, recovered from Blue’s attack. It quickly blows a cold wind through the room, extinguishing all the torches Blue managed to light, and Blue growls in annoyance.

“Fine! I’ll just have to light ‘em faster!”

He runs along the wall, lighting torches fast as possible, and the poe snarls in anger while Red looks on in amazement.

“Why won’t you give up?!” the poe snarls, then blows the freezing wind again.

Except this time it doesn’t blow out... It sucks in.

And Blue is directly in its path.

His grip slips from the lantern as he’s pulled, and he drops it with a shout. He hears it crack, and then everything goes dark around him, freezing, endless cold hitting him from every side now.

“Oops... I swallowed him whole!” the big Poe’s voice echoes around him, and Blue slams a fist against the walls, ignoring the panic that’s roaring to life in him again.

“Hey!” he shouts, barely stopping his voice from breaking as he slams his fists against the poe. “Lemme out!”

The poe is unmoved. “Oh well. I’ll just have to crush your spirit...”

The dark walls around him suddenly constrict, cold squeezing him like a horrible embrace, and Blue’s breath is stolen as something crunches, pain shocking up his middle.

“...from the inside!”

“C-can’t draw my sword...” Blue grunts, making a desperate effort to grab it, but he’s being squeezed too tight to move.

His brain begins to go fuzzy as the walls squeeze tighter, making it hard to breathe. He hears distant shouting, Red’s voice echoing somewhere outside, but his ears begin to ring, and he can’t make out the words.

I don’t want to die, not like this, please not more cold again—

Suddenly the big poe howls, and the pressure is abruptly gone from around Blue, making him gasp in relief. He blindly grabs for his sword, and feels the force light up inside it, warming his hands.

“Prepare to face the heroic might of Blue Link!” he yells hoarsely, then stabs his blade directly into the big poe’s stomach.

It howls again, and explodes into pieces as Blue falls to the ground, Red screaming with joy and relief. He runs to Blue’s side and hugs him as light washes over the temple around them, and Blue doesn’t have the energy to resist.

“You did it Blue!” he cheers, tears back in his eyes, and Blue smiles back, his aches and pains forgotten in the rush of victory.

They did it.

A sudden thrum runs through his hands, and Blue looks down at his sword, the blade lighting up.

“Whoa! The Four Sword!” he exclaims, holding it out as it pulses with light.

Red moves to look at it in awe, and Blue feels a faint thrum from what must be the other blades, a distant chime of green washing over him, a steady glint of purple... warm red, but muted, and quickly silenced by shadows.

But Green and Vio are safe. That much he can tell.

I knew it was just a trap!

The glow fades, and Blue’s strength goes with it, his legs shaking as he practically collapses. Red plops down next to him, his hand still on his arm, and Blue breathes out, closing his eyes a second.

“You did it!” their fairy cheers, flitting over excitedly. “Big Poe is no more, and now the temple can return to the domain of light!”

“Good,” Blue croaks, holding a hand to his side. “It better, after all that.”

Red’s excitement dims a little at his raspy reply, and he frowns and puts a hand on his ribs. Blue flinches back, hissing through his teeth, and Red’s frown deepens. Being nearly crushed to death inside of that poe certainly didn’t do him any favors.

And maybe he’s a little shaky from all that dark magic, and the remnant of the freezing cold in his system, but Red hardly needs to know about that.

“Are you okay, Blue?” he asks, and Blue shrugs, wincing at the action.

“Fine,” he grumbles, pushing Red’s hand off. “You don’t need to fuss.”

Red looks at him hesitantly, then sighs, and begins rifling through his pouch in silence, the fairy sitting on his shoulder.

“...I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” Red says finally, voice a little thick. Blue looks at him in surprise, and Red chews nervously on his lip. “I know you care, Blue. I was just upset. And I’m worried about Green and Vio and everyone, and I was scared in there when it all seemed so hopeless... I shouldn’t take it out on you,” he finishes in a whisper. “Sorry.”

Blue huffs, and looks away, ignoring how the apology mends a little something inside him. “It’s not a big deal. But... thanks,” he mumbles.

Red brightens almost immediately, a wide smile on his face, and he gives Blue a quick squeeze before handing him the potion he’s dug out.

“Here. This’ll help your ribs.”

Blue nods his thanks and knocks it back, the potion’s magic quickly swirling around and concentrating in his middle. He sighs as it does its work, and Red leans on his shoulder, Blue not shoving him off.

“We should try to find Green again,” Red mentions after a minute, and Blue nods.

“He’s safe, I felt him through the Four Sword. But you’re right, we need to regroup,” Blue says. “We’re... stronger together. It’s time we became one team again.”

“I’ll see if I can sense any heroes nearby,” the fairy says, and Blue smirks.

“Just try not to dump us in another trap, alright?”

The fairy’s glow turns a little more pink, and Red giggles, the fairy chiming a little laugh as well after a moment.

“I’ll do my best. Try to rest up in the meantime, you two,” she suggests, and Blue closes his eyes, leaning a little more against Red and enjoying his warmth, the deep cold finally fading.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

[choburka]

hiii, ig I'll post some of my headcanons on rddk till I finish my current art ( ◜◡')

I can't tell who would've confessed their feeling first because in my imagination, it's something what happened "accidently":

February 13th, Rody invited Deku in Otheon for his birthday, and now they're about to meet in the airport. Back then, when the ginger asked him if he could come, Izuku said he could've invited some of his classmates as well, so the celebration would've been more exciting and interesting, for Rody as well, but he refused saying he's not much of a party-fan. I think he wouldn't really mind the others to come along, but Deku was the person he truly wanted to see. They're having video-calls once a two weeks. They even fell asleep like this once, but that's different from seeing each other like this.

Izuku missed Rody as well. The time they spent together during the mission was something that helped him to keep on going. Rody was a good listener, even though if he wasn't a really good memory keeper. Deku recounted the complete contents of his notes about heroes and, of course, especially about the All Might, while Rody was sharing stories about his former crime job and some annoying clients from his new job as a waiter. Rody could only wonder how Midoriya never gets tired of listening to him.

(if there are some mistakes in the text, the fly in my room is the one to blame)

Izuku didn't wait for a long time. As he left the plain, he saw the red head waving at him with a familiar smirk and Pino on his shoulder, jumping for joy. She was almost never there during their calls. There was only the sounds of her being rather sad or happy, which appeared very rarely. No wonder Rody didn't let her show up: he couldn't let his dearest friend realize what kind of feelings he had for him.

On their road to Soul's home, it seemed like there was no way for them to stop talking. It started with an awkward silence at first, but whenever Deku starts the conversation, you know it won't be boring. Rody complained about not getting his guft "right now and right here" as a joke, and the green-head promised to hand it the second they'll arrive.

A deep, sensitive, and greating speech — something you probably should expect from Izuku. Rody remained still when listening, while Pino was almost tearing, hiding in his hair.

— ...and I'm glad you keep getting better. I couldn't really think of what you would like to get as a gift, but... here, I hope you will like it!

Midoriya got so nervous that he didn't even notice how he gave Rody a small kiss in a cheek while passing him the gift package. They stared at each other, remaining silent for about a minute, which felt like an eternity. Deku was the first one to realize what had just happened, so he started to apologize as much as he could.

— Woah, Hero, no need to worry. Was that your gift? Or have you just fallen in love with such a perfect dude like me? He-he

Was there any doubt that Rody would say something like this in such a moment? Pino sank even deeper into his hair while pulling it a bit. Such a good thing that it was cold outside, so she had to hide there because of this. Otherwise, the situation would've been even more weird. Suddenly, Deku got this serious expression on his face.

— Well, to be honest, the way I feel about you is kinda... different from the others. It's like more warm and... emotional to me, I guess.

But then Midoriya realized what he just said, so he turned a tiny, shy guy apologizing with bo abilityof stopping again:

— No-no-no, I wasn't supposed to say that! You are still my friend, and it's your birthday, and I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry, I-

You could barely see a slight blush on red heads face

— Wait a moment, so you mean you... like me?

— Oh, maybe, but I just... I hope we can stay friends, you don't have to worry about my feelings, it's nothing that important, really!!

— You know, that little kiss you gave me actually seems like the best gift I could get.

Izuku couldn't really understand if he was being sarcastic or not.

— I-I'm sorry, what do you mean by that? Is it like a joke, or do you mean you liked it?

It was unbelievable how Deku could shift from a deep shame to such straightforward questions. He just stared at Rody with no hesitations, waiting for his answer.

— Gosh, I can't say it like this... Just... Don't look at me like if it's a regular talk or something! — a crumb of annoyance in his tone, seems like his unemotional mask is now off.

— My apologies! But... so you mean you feel somehow alike towards me? — his tone got a bit of shaky while asking this.

— Congrats, you got it, hero, — he mumbled, covering his mouth with a hand.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

Yes! I finally posted something!

7. Sigh, this is my life now

Part 1 - The last day

Part 2 - the friends

Part 3 - the lunch

Part 4 - the revelation

Warnings: None.

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

Miguel tapped his steering wheel as he waited in the lobby for his girlfriend to come down. She'd been unyielding on her decision to continue living separately until she’d introduced him to her friends and family; although they still spent most of their time together anyway. Except for today - she’d wanted to make sure she was especially presentable today, so she’d opted to stay home where she wouldn’t forget any of her important items. Finally, she arrived, skipping through the glass doors and over to his car. Miguel took a moment to admire how cute she looked in her little black flare skirt and her long-sleeved white top, her ankle boots leaving her tanned, toned legs bare for him to appreciate.

“¡Hola querido!” X turned to greet him once she'd shut the door.

“Hola querida,” Miguel replied, leaning over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. It was all real now; they really were on their way to marriage … and he couldn’t be more elated for it. He shifted his car into drive and X twisted around in her seat to admire him.

“I wish I could jump you right now, Miguel,” she sighed, her eyes trailing longingly over his broad chest and strong arms and muscled thighs. Miguel's eyes widened in surprise and he let out a shocked gasp before sliding his gaze over to her. His features melted into an amused smile when he saw the wistful look on her face.

“Don’t say stuff like that when I’m driving, arañita,” he warned her, a teasing note in his voice. X giggled in response and turned back to face the front of the car.

“Sorry,” she apologised. They hit a red light and Miguel stopped the car for a moment, giving X the chance to lean over and place a hand on his knee. She gave it a light squeeze and Miguel raised an eyebrow at her in question. She flashed him a reassuring look as she patted his knee, then she pulled her hand away and sank back into her seat when the light turned green again.

Was he nervous? He didn't seem nervous. But maybe he was just really good at hiding it? She wanted to ask him, but didn't want to make him nervous by putting the thought in his mind if he wasn't even actually nervous anyway.

“Querida,” Miguel began suddenly, his tone lazy and relaxed. “Are you nervous?:

“Hmm?” She loosened her grip on her seatbelt as she turned to glance over at him - she hadn’t even realised she’d been clutching it so tightly! - and forced out a smile. “No! Well, I don’t think I’m nervous necessarily.”

She paused to analyse her thoughts and figure out how to put them into words and her boyfriend waited patiently for her to do so, knowing her all too well by now.

“I mean,” she began slowly, “I don’t think there will be any issues with you … You’ll be great! Everyone will be so happy that I’ve met you.”

He snuck a peek over at her and his lips curled at the delighted look he found waiting for him on her face. Then she pursed her lips and began fiddling with the seatbelt again as she puzzled through her emotions.

“Hmm, I’m just … I’m just nervous generally, I guess,” she admitted finally. “Like, what if it gets really awkward? Eww! I don’t want that. But … these guys have been my friends forever. We’ll have something to talk about.”

“Hmm,” Miguel grunted in response. Would he have to introduce her to his friends too? Through a fancy affair like this? She already knew Nate, but there were still Peter and Ben. And his brother, too.

She furrowed her brow as she noticed the minute bit of tightness that had suddenly appeared in his expression. “¿Querido? What are you thinking, janam?”

Miguel began tapping on the steering wheel again as they stopped at another traffic light. “How should I introduce you to my family and friends?”

X shrugged, wanting to maintain the relaxed air he'd had about him when she'd first gotten into his car. “However you want, mi amor.”

“Hmm.” The light turned green and Miguel continued to think about it as they started moving again. “I’ll talk to Gabe about it. And maybe Nate too.”

X nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

She fidgeted in her seat while waiting for her friends to arrive, her hand moving from his thigh to his shoulder to his arm as she shifted her chair around and tapped her foot on the ground. Miguel grabbed her hand when she placed it on his and turned to face her, his expression resolved.

“Hey. We’ll be all right, okay?” he reassured her “You’ve already prepared me extensively for this moment.”

She did her best to return his soothing smile, but he could see the way her features were still tight with nerves. X glanced at the door as she heard some new customers enter the café, then shot out of her seat when she saw that it was her friends.

“Kat! Mei!” The two girls rushed over to her when they spotted her and X gave them both a warm hug. “Thanks for coming, guys! Um, so, this is my boyfriend, Miguel.” She grasped his hand in hers and her stomach twisted with nerves as her friends looked up at Miguel.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you guys,” Miguel began, shaking each of the girls’ hands in turn. “X talks about you guys all the time. She really loves her friends.” He glanced over at her - at the shy smile on her face - and the adoring look on his own features didn’t go unnoticed by her friends. Mei narrowed her eyes at her friend's hulking new boyfriend, doing her best to look stern in front of him.

“And we love her too,” she warned Miguel, straightening to her full height so that the top of her head just grazed his chest. Miguel grinned at her protectiveness.

“Good. I’m glad.” He gestured to the seats on the other side of the table, across from the ones he and X had taken earlier. “Please! Have a seat! Would you like to order anything? It’s on me.”

Kat's apprehensive gaze flickered to and away from Miguel as she saw down and opened up the menu. He was extremely tall and scarily large … but he seemed so soft whenever he interacted with her friend, so tender and so affectionate. The waiter soon came to take their orders and the group settled into their seats as they waited. “So, Miguel …”

“How old are you again?” Mei asked immediately, her studious gaze fixed on Miguel. Kat's eyes widened as her head snapped to Mei, horrified by her friend's unfiltered bluntness. But Mei held Miguel's gaze, waiting.

“I’m twenty-eight,” Miguel replied calmly, unfazed by the question.

“Oh!” Mei exclaimed, surprised to find out how young he really was. X shot her a quizzical look.

“I thought I told you already!” she hissed across the table. Mei shrugged, her expression slightly apologetic now.

“I forgot!” she explained quickly. “I mean, wasn’t he your boss?”

X shifted in her seat uncomfortably, grabbing Miguel’s hand beneath the table. “Yeah, but, what does that have to do with his age?”

Mei shrugged in response. “I don’t know, I just thought he’d be older.”

“But X was saying that you finished school early?” Kat asked, turning her attention to Miguel.

“Uh, yeah, I graduated early, so I got my PhD by twenty-two,” Miguel confirmed, causing Kat and Mei's jaws to drop with shock.

“What?!” Kat gasped, her surprised expression bouncing between X and Miguel. X turned to Miguel, a proud smile on her features as she gazed up at him.

“He’s a smart boy,” she teased. Miguel rolled his eyes, but smiled at the way she'd relaxed enough to start joking again.

“I mean, I know X is really smart too,” he argued. “But, Kathleen, you’re doing accounting and Mei, you’re doing graphic design?”

The waiter returned with their drinks and the four of them slipped into easy conversation.

“So, what do you guys think honestly?” X asked, shooting her friends a conspiratorial smile as she leaned across the table. Miguel had excused himself a little earlier after leaving her with enough cash to cover the bill. It was a plan they’d agreed on beforehand so that X wouldn’t have to wait to meet up with her friends again in order to find out what they really thought about her boyfriend.

“First, oh my god, he is so good looking?!” Mei exclaimed, placing her hands on the table as she shot her friends a look of disbelief. “Like, how?!” X grinned and brushed her hair behind her ear, delighted.

“I know, right?! Oh my gosh, he’s so beautiful to look at.” She swooned as the image of her handsome boyfriend pops into her mind. She was so wonderfully lucky. Then her expression turned serious again. “But what do you think about, like, his personality and how he treats me and stuff?”

“He’s so good to you,” Kat replied. “He’s always, like, watching you and taking care of you and making sure you feel comfortable. It’s so cute! I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Mei agreed quickly, “you really deserve a great guy like him. I’m so happy for you too!:

X lowered her head as she felt her chest warm with pride.

“Thank you, I just …” Her voice cracked slightly as she thought of all the time she’d spent being lonely and misunderstood and wondering if there was something wrong with her. “I finally found him. And he’s wonderful and so sweet and so worth the wait. I really love him. And … he really loves me too.”

“Yeah, I can really see that,” Kat agreed. Mei furrowed her brows in a confused expression.

“So, wait. How did you guys start dating again?” she asked, trying to recall the bits of information her friend had shared with her. “Did you have to, like, sneak around the office and stuff?!” X grinned at the way her friend's eyes had widened with curiosity, then she began recounting the timeline of their relationship - leaving a few key details out, of course.

He landed on her balcony and made sure he was safely inside her apartment before he finally lowered his mask. “¿Querida? How did it go? What did they really think?”

She looked up at him from where she was cleaning the kitchen after putting his dinner in the oven - he’d been teaching her how to cook, so she was able to make an adequate list of meals now. She tried to hide her smile as she walked around the counter, but she couldn’t hold back her delighted grin as she stretched up and slid her arms around his neck. “They’re so happy for me! They think you’re, like, my perfect guy and they’re so … relieved that I’ve finally found you!”

Miguel returned her expression, thrilled, and bent over to kiss his girlfriend. “So … now can we move in together?”

“Miguel!” X laughed, then wriggled in his arms and squeezed him happily. “Do you want me to heat up your dinner?”

His stomach flipped at the sight of her sweet features as she gazed up at him expectantly. Would it be like this when they were married? After they moved in together? The two of them taking care of each other at the end of every day? Dios, he couldn’t wait for their forever to start! He buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned, impatient now to make her his adorable little wife. “Querida …”

X laughed again as he began showering her neck and face with soft kisses, finally landing on her lips before straightening to look at her. She slid her hands down his chest, admiring the hardness of his broad muscles beneath his suit.

“Go take a shower, querido. I’ll make your dinner hot.” She turned to return to the oven, but Miguel grabbed her hand and pulled her backwards into his chest. He whined against her shoulder and she snickered at the uncharacteristic sound. “Miguel … What’s wrong, querido?”

She ruffled his hair affectionately and Miguel felt a rush of warmth shoot through his chest as he tightened his grip on her waist.

“Can we just get married already?” he finally asked. “It’ll take a year to plan anyway, so you can just move in and live with me in the meantime.”

He straightened to look down at her and X's jaw dropped when she saw how serious he was about the request. She took a small step back, her expression incredulous, but he kept his hands on her, holding her loosely against him.

“Miguel!” she stuttered, her heart thudding in her chest as she floundered for a response. “You haven’t even met my parents yet!”

“Well, when can I meet them?”

X bit her lip, thinking.

“I’m still trying to plan it. These things take time, you know.” She patted him on the shoulder, then finally pulled away from, heading back to the kitchen. “And anyway, it’s not like you’ve introduced me to anyone in your life.”

She'd tried to keep her tone light, but he could still sense the slight note of hurt in her voice. Miguel followed after her, stopping by the kitchen island and leaning over it as he puzzled over the appropriate response. “You’ve met Nate.”

She swivelled around after turning on the oven to give him an exasperated look and Miguel's awkward smile quickly melted away.

“Uh, well …” He rubbed the back of his neck as he lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling too hot beneath the collar of his suit. “I’ll … I’m planning to talk to Nate about it. I’ve never done this before either, querida.”

His voice was soft and as he peeked up at her from beneath his thick eyelashes, his expression ashamed, she felt all her frustration drain away. X sighed and walked over to him, hopping up onto the seat he was standing next to.

“It’s okay, querido,” she assured him, curling her fingers around his shoulder soothingly. “Just … don’t make me wait too long. I’m going to be almost twenty-five when I start my PhD, so I’ll be almost twenty-eight when I finish it.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she calculated the numbers on her head and Miguel gave a little snicker at how cute she looked as she did so.

“So if we can get married by the time I’m at least twenty-nine,” she continued, “then we can have our first kid before I turn thirty. You’ll be thirty-four by then though. Is that okay with you?”

He didn't think he'd ever felt such love before - like it was bubbling up from his stomach and into his heart, threatening to lift him into the air and deposit him in the clouds. She'd already thought about them getting married too? Considered it seriously enough that she'd even planned the birth of their first child as well? Miguel hopped onto the seat beside his girlfriend and took her hands in his. “That’s fine with me. I don’t want you to have to compromise on your goals just to give me what I want.”

“What do you want?” she asked immediately, her eyes wide as she waited for his response. Miguel smiled and stroked his thumbs across the backs of her hands.

“You,” he replied. “And a family. But not one that you’d resent me for everyday of our lives.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and X gulped as she processed his words.

“That makes sense. I mean, of course I want a family with you too, but … I mean, yeah. There are still things I want to do besides,” she agreed. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze again. “I mean, I … We have the rest of our lives to be parents, but not … the rest of our lives … to do … stuff like this?”

Miguel tugged her towards him, gesturing for her to take a seat on his lap. He spun the chair around once she was on him, resting her back against the counter and supporting her waist with his large hands. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. Then he cuddled her against him. “I want to support you in everything that you want to do.”

“Me too!” X piped up quickly. Miguel huffed against her neck in amusement, then groaned.

“But ay, mierda, arañita! All I can think about now is us being parents!” He straightened to look at her and she giggled at the thought herself, causing his heart to melt into a puddle in his chest.

“We’re gonna be so cringe.” His girlfriend's - his future wife's! - expression turned dreamy as she unconsciously ran her fingers along the back of his neck. Then she re-focused her attention on him. “But I think we’ll be fine.”

Miguel smiled as he ran his hand along her side: he thought they'd be fine too.

“Okay!” X exclaimed suddenly, pulling herself against him and kissing his cheek. “Time to go shower! You’re gonna get hungry, querido!” She patted his hard abdomen, then hopped off of him to go check on his food. Miguel slumped over in his seat as his stomach started grumbling, then he forced himself up and to the bathroom.

Tags: @heubstr @zayai @amberbalcom14 @julia4today

[aladaylessecondblog]

Return II

Author's Note: Sadara goes to Kvatch AU.

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

If there was one thing Sadara missed, it was colors.

She'd spent so long in the Red Mountain region, and then in that little room at the Argonian Embassy that she'd almost forgotten there could be more to the world than red, brown, black, and gray.

The green, rolling hills, the ivy over walls. The blue sky stretching out overhead, the ocean or lakes beneath. The West Weald as she passed it, the beauty of the Gold Coast.

It was not what she felt with Voryn, this sensation of being where she was supposed to be, but there was still a sense of rightness, that soon twisted painfully. If only, she thought, if only she could have him here. But he would never leave Morrowind - he thought little of anything beyond the confines of that province, barely left the Heart Chamber, much less Red Mountain itself!

She had been safe there, perhaps, but towards the end she had felt rather like a princess from a fairytale locked in a tower, tucked away and secluded from nearly everything that made life worth living.

What kind of life would that have been for her and little Sunnar? Queens of the dead. Ladies of a House both feared and reviled, served by monsters and ghouls.

Could you not have thought of this before you let him put the babe in you?

The trip to Kvatch took another day to finish, and by then Sadara was more than ready to walk again. The carriage had been mostly empty, but still, carrying as much in the way of gold and valuables as she did it made her nervous. It was a small fortune to her.

"We will make our own way," she said again, under her breath.

Sunnar mewled to be fed in response.

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

The owner and publican of the Dragon's Roost inn was an elderly Bosmer woman named Galawen that despite being four feet high on days she didn't have to stoop and who weighed less than a hundred pounds was a veritable force of nature.

Sadara had taken a temporary job there cleaning up, easy enough to do with a babe in a sling around her neck, and was witness to a lot of the woman's antics.

She did not keep Pact, although no one seemed to say anything to her about it. She turfed out drunks with the strength of someone half her age and twice her size...and Sadara envied her greatly for the strength of her personality.

"You're a force to be reckoned with," she said to Galawen, "I've never seen so many men tell me to be careful around someone that wasn't some sort of obvious threat. You seem nice, but...I have never had the best judgment."

"Bah, the drum making would leave too much evidence...oh! Who is THIS?"

The woman's expression changed on sight of Sunnar, who was currently engaged in gumming her mother's fingers.

"My daughter," Sadara said with a smile, "She's quieter than most babes I've seen. I hope she hasn't been an annoyance."

"Of course not!" Galawen gave her own smile, "Are you stopping here on the way to Anvil?"

"No, I...we're hoping to make Kvatch our home," she said, "I had hopes of opening an alchemy shop, but that seems to be a family enterprise, though the Temple is happy to get the occasional healing potion off me."

"You have the money to open a shop? Why are you working here, then?"

"I was poor once...and it brings in money." Sadara shrugged. "I want to have something coming in, in case the worst should happen and I should happen to lose what I've got."

It was a habit she would never kick, she was sure.

Over the next few months she and Galawen had this conversation many more times, and eventually, the little Bosmer had a proposition.

"Why don't you buy this inn from me?"

"Why should you want to sell it?" Sadara asked. "I'm not sure I'd have quite the sum necessary for it in any case. A small shop maybe, but an entire inn?"

"I'm not getting any younger, and I never had children," Galawen said, "I've got no one to pass it to, and I don't want the city to turn it into a barracks."

Eventually they worked it out that Sadara would get the inn for a reduced price, and be officially listed as the new owner. Galawen would slowly hand duties over to her as she was less able to do them, and be provided for in her dotage.

Sadara did not relax, but it eased her mind a little to know the matter of income was settled.

Fortunate, because she had felt unable to sing with the enthusiasm she'd always had before. She still practiced to not lose her skill, but instead of music flowing from her fingertips and out through the lute, she could find no happiness in the exercise.

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

The small shrine she had built to her ancestors in the corner of the room she shared with Sunnar had yielded nothing. She felt the definite presence of someone, but with the same sensation of speaking to a crowd with their backs turned.

They saw her, but they refused to acknowledge her.

She supposed she could understand, but continued to make offerings anyway.

Forgive me, she prayed there as she did in the chapel of Akatosh, Please forgive me for what I could not do.

There was never any answer, no voice to give a comforting word in this pain that no one seemed to share.

Or so she thought.

Sunnar sat before the shrine late one evening months later, giggling and waving her hands at something unseen. A few steps closer, and Sadara heard it: a male voice, strong, firm, singing a song of some kind.

"Nu kan, nu kan, nu kan metanane anya..."

The words were Ald Chimeris, and Sadara had a vague feeling she'd heard them before.

"We dare, we dare, we dare to choose life," the male voice went on. It stopped and she saw--just the faintest shimmer, the slightest outline.

"Are you one of my ancestors?" she finally found the courage to ask.

"In a sense." The figure became clearer, and smiled at her. Suddenly it was clear. She had seen his face before...laid out in metal.

"...Nerevar?"

She was on the point of dropping to her knees when he spoke to stop her.

"Why should you kneel?"

"To beg your forgiveness, as I have to do with the others," Sadara said, "For failing to--to--"

She gulped, to stop the tears from rising.

"You did not want to murder one whom you came to love. I would not have been able to do it either, for all the jabbering the Temple likes to do." He gave another smile when she picked up Sunnar, and made a face at the babe. He was rewarded with more giggling. "You'll have to forgive me...I never had children, though I desperately wanted them."

"It's--I don't mind." Sadara gave a weak smile. "What would you do, now, in my place?"

"If things were different, I would pray to Azura for guidance," he replied, "But she refuses me now, as I am sure she does you."

"I have heard nothing since 'you have earned what you will get, failed incarnate!'" Sadara lowered her head. "She would scold me now and then while I was...in Red Mountain, before I left, but..."

"She boils in inaction, and bursts with rage. It is her way, much as she does not like people to know of it."

"But what shall I do?"

"Live," Nerevar said faintly, "And whatever comes, know that I will be with you."

Sadara reveled in Nerevar's spectral embrace, the first touch of its kind she had felt in over a year.

Whatever would come, at least she was not alone.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi would it be alright if I request yandere Redson x Mei story /one shot please 🙏 💗 I really like their dynamic and I heard that demons back then would kidnap woman to marry them (even by force if necessary)

Would it be possible to request yandere Redson kidnapping Mei to marry her please ; if you wanna go dark you can do! I look forward to seeing what you come up with 💗 ^^

(if romance makes you uncomfortable, then maybe yandere platonic Redson doesn���t wanna share his only friend Mei with others )

Caleo Courtnapping

(Romance isn’t usually my cup of tea, but it’s nice to try new things! Also, a new Azure Lion bot is in the works!)

“…you’re very pretty,” Red Son finally says. He’s been sitting at the table for nearly an hour, seated opposite his bride-to-be. Each minute not spent staring at her is spent brainstorming and sketching on blank sheets of paper. “You’ve always been pretty. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realize something so obvious.”

In his other hand is a custom cocktail, made by a well-dressed Bull Clone- there’ll be alcohol served at the coming wedding, and he’s been combing through a list of potential options.

“Strawberry daiquiri, sweetened with sugar and served with a splash of lime for freshness. It’ll match our colors, too.”

The fiery prince turn to his ‘darling’, wearing a smug grin that vanishes when he sees the furious expression apparent in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mei.”

From behind an intricate and gilded muzzle, the swordswoman snarls.

“I tried to take it off, darling. You wanted to breath fire at me. Bad idea, by the way- fire’s my thing. I’m not too sure what you expected, actually- stop thrashing around!”

Red Son rounds the table to his intended bride’s side, groaning at her fury. He hadn’t intended for the wedding planning to be a matter of trying to coax nods or shakes from his beloved dragon-horse girl. No, he would’ve much rather spent a lovely evening together, trying wine and sampling sweet pastries for the inevitable day of union that they would share.

But she had made the decision to get physical, so the prince had made a decision of his own- that restraints were now necessary.

And now Mei sits on a sturdy redwood chair, cushioned by lush velvet and installed with many metal shackles to hold any unwilling spouse defiant individual in place. With her wrists and ankles firmly latched down, she found it hard to do much more than writhe.

But writhe she did, so Red circled the chair and slapped a button on the side with little fanfare. A clanging SHUNK sounds as two crescents of metal meet around her waist, tightening slowly to adhere her more closely to the thick wooden chair. Another button, a loud banging of metal that leaves her forearms bound with steel.

“There. That should keep you from ruining your-“

Pause. What did Mother say? Be honest with her instead of playing coy or being proud?

“…you have lovely skin, my dearest spitfire. It would be a travesty if you broke it by thrashing about. That wasn’t a threat, by the way. Please stop writhing.”

Nailed it. Mother would certainly be pleased by his efforts to open up to his future wife, and his expanding complimentary skills.

Or she would start expecting grandkids.

Maybe it would be better to keep this to himself, actually.

With a sigh, he moves one hand to the woman’s muzzled cheek.

“I’ll let you have a drink, darling. But only if you promise to behave.”

There’s a clear enthusiasm in Mei’s burning green eyes- no doubt that she believes Red Son is about to hand her another chance to try and escape his care.

He dashes those hopes by procuring a blindfold. “Misbehave again and this will be going on next,” is his level-voiced threat. “Do not make me cover up those gorgeous eyes, my sparkling cinder.”

Red Son carefully unhooks the muzzle from around her face, taking the moment to brush one of his thumbs across her bottom lip.

“…you really are very pretty,” he comments, a striking note of simple sincerity in his voice.

If she hadn’t been kidnapped and shackled down, Mei might have been flattered.

But all she can manage is a roll of her eyes and a shrug. “Sure, whatever. Give me a sip.”

Seethed through clenched teeth her words may be, they’re still some level of non-violent. So, as he is drawn to do- Red obliges the the wishes of his darling dragon.

“A toast,” he proposes, taking up the wine glass. “To our enduring union.” The glass is tipped to the lips of the swordswoman, allowing her to imbibe the frosty spirit. Made with frozen strawberries to keep ice from diluting the flavor and a shot of internationally imported and very expensive white wine, bright and refreshing- so very like the woman he vied for.

“It’s fine,” the tempestuous woman scoffs in turn. “The sangria was better.”

Watermelon sangria- served with a handful of frozen blueberries in the glass to keep the drink cool, with orange wedges soaking in the pitcher to add a dash of vibrant citrus.

“We’ll have both, darling,” he reassures. “And I suppose we’ll have to rummage up something spicier, too. It won’t be any good if all the spirits are sweet.”

“Pineapple margaritas,” she excitedly says, forgetting for just a moment her predicament to instead gush about something she enjoys. “With jalapeño slices! Ooh, and mezcal!”

Even just that spark of exuberance reminds Red Son why he’s so intent on marrying this warrior of a woman. The light that sparkles in her eyes, the upwards pitch of her delightful voice- how could he not love her?

“Anything for you, darling,” he says, and certainly not for the first or last time.

“I would do anything for you.”

[jamietxrtt]

.

Later, they were out by the pool. Roy had his feet in the water while nursing a beer, Jamie lying perpendicular to him on his back, looking up at the sky. It was quiet. Roy watched the ripples of the pool reflect on the concrete around it.

Suddenly, Jamie’s voice interrupted the calm silence. “Hey, Roy?”

Roy took another swig. “Mm.”

“What’s your dad like?”

That question gave Roy pause, the bottle hovering halfway between his lips and his lap. “What’s got you thinking about this?”

For a long beat, Jamie didn’t react, just kept staring up at the sky with blank, placid eyes. Then finally, he shrugged. “Dunno. Just curious.”

Roy gave a low hum of a growl in response-- I don’t believe you-- but he didn’t push. “He’s, y’know, he’s fine.” He swiped his thumb down the neck of his bottle. “Both of my parents-- they were fine. Never my best friends or nothin’. Never really saw them much, once I went to the academy. But they were -- my dad, he’s-- he’s fine.” Roy’s thumb and forefinger closed tightly around the bottle, right at the point the neck started to flare out. “He’s not like yours.”

Another long beat of silence. Roy eyed Jamie’s expression, hoping that last bit hadn’t set him off, but he still seemed perfectly placid and calm, his eyes drifting lazily around the sky. What on earth he could be looking at, Roy had no idea-- there certainly were no stars to ogle here in the middle of the city.

Maybe he was looking for something that wasn’t there.

“Mm,” Jamie said, finally. “Okay.”

Strange kid. Roy didn’t understand what was going on in his head half the time. And the other half of the time, he knew way too well.

He left Jamie to his contemplation of the starless sky, turning his attention back to the ripples along the water’s surface. His feet in the water were a significantly lighter shade than the rest of his skin tone.

He remembered, not too long ago, when he took Phoebe out for a trip to the pool. Most of her time was spent as expected, playing water games with the other kids there and begging Roy to get in with her so he could dunk her underwater. But at one point he’d looked up from his book to find her kneeling at the pool’s edge, her hands held underwater, as she studied the surface intensely.

“Everything alright here?” Roy asked, sitting next to her on the ledge.

“Isn’t it weird how I look paler underwater?” She said, wriggling her fingers under the surface as proof.

It was true. Phoebe couldn’t be classified as tan in any way, but her already fair arms were bisected by a line right at the surface of the water. Underneath, she was pale as a sheet.

“I wonder if I stayed like this long enough, my arms would get tan but my hands would still be pale,” Phoebe hypothesized.

“Maybe,” Roy said. “I’d imagine your knees would get tired first, sitting like that.”

Scrunching up her face, Phoebe squirmed around to get into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs and propping her elbows up against her knees. But she made no move to take her hands out of the water, seemingly intent on seeing her experiment through. “Why does it have a different color like that, Uncle Roy?”

“Dunno,” Roy told her. “The chlorine or some shit? I’m not sure.”

“Mm,” Phoebe said, seemingly content with that answer. “Okay!”

After another five minutes, she got distracted by a game of red-light-green-light, and gave up on sitting still, leaping into the pool to join the other kids. She hadn’t given it nearly long enough to see her experiment through.

So Roy stayed sat by the poolside for the rest of the day, his feet in the water, to test it out for her.

Now, sitting next to Jamie by a different poolside, Roy was jostled out of his thoughts by Jamie speaking yet again.

“Sometimes I don’t understand the things Ted says,” Jamie said, fiddling with a bracelet tied around his wrist.

Roy frowned, struggling to follow the sudden shift in topic. “Yeah?”

“Like, sometimes he says shit, and he just-- makes it sound so easy, y’know? Like he’s got it all figured out, and it’s super simple and you feel like a dumbass for never figuring it out yourself. But then you try it out and suddenly it’s all hard and impossible again, and it’s like--” He sighed. “I dunno. I just don’t get it sometimes. How it’s so easy for him to, like-- to be a good person.”

Now Roy was starting to get concerned. He turned to face Jamie more directly. “He say something to you?”

“No.” Jamie wiped a hand over his face. “I mean, yeah, but-- it’s just, like, in general. I don’t get how it’s all so simple to him.”

A strange itching sensation was beginning to creep up the back of Roy’s throat. He cleared it with a cough. “You, uh-- If there’s something he said in particular…”

Instead of answering the unspoken question, Jamie sat up abruptly. “Hey, what the fuck are we doing just sitting here, anyway?” He started tugging his shirt over his head. “I wanna swim.”

“I--” Roy didn’t even have the chance to get a full response out before Jamie was already slipping into the water with a splash. “...Yeah, alright.”

[They swim around for a bit, dunk each other, water wrestle, have some fun, etc. At one point Jamie’s band-aid comes loose.]

“Hey, your, uh-- your face.” Roy gestured toward the dangling bandage. “Plaster’s coming off.”

“Oh.” Jamie found the loose end and yanked the rest of it off, nonchalantly dropping the trash on the pool’s edge to clean up later.

Roy paused, treading water as he noticed the now-uncovered injury on Jamie’s cheek. It was too big to be a shaving nick, and looked too deep, too, a barely-visible bruise of purple clinging around the edges.

Roy glanced back at Jamie’s eyes to see the player watching him-- clearly, Roy couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t noticed the injury. “You didn’t really nick yourself, did you?”

Jamie dunked his head underwater, then shook his hair out as he came back up. “Nah.”

“What happened, then?”

Jamie was suddenly distracted by something behind Roy’s head. “Hey, you wanna do a race? Three laps, long ways?”

Before Roy could answer, Jamie was already swimming to one side of the pool.

“Wait, Jamie,” Roy said when he reached the starting line next to him. “Hey, why the fuck are we doing this?”

“Oh, come on, granddad. Isn’t swimming like the only exercise you can even do anymore with that shitty knee of yours?”

Roy scoffed, shoving at Jamie’s shoulder. “Prick. Fine. You’re on.”

Roy lost the race.