#and they had admitted it so SEVERAL times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chisubi · 1 day ago

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from the lovers’ grave — h. ran

content. fem!reader, one (1) suggestive scene near the end, something about grief, mourning, and love

word count. 10.7k

note. this was not meant to be long. originally, all i had planned was the scene with ran and rindō at the end talking and the confession scene for practice (i hate confessions) i am not sure what happened . . . also, this is unedited.

In the grand scheme of things, there were more good times than bad.

Of course, there’s no denying that during their teenage years of growing up, at some point, things have been deteriorating. Spiraling and spiraling and sprialing. They were just boys being boys, doing the only things they knew how to do, fighting and surviving; those moments were full of fun, exhilarating, a temporary bliss in this little corner of the world of theirs.

However, boys like them don’t live for long. They aren’t meant to. Just like how the saying goes: live fast, die young. Ran supposes the saying is true. Many of the people he’d known died before reaching adulthood, just like him — Kurokawa Izana. That’s just life, after all.

His funeral is a simple one. Nothing grand, and rather than how plain it is, it is more surprising how someone without a family – an orphan – is able to have a proper funeral. People like them never have one, forgotten by everyone and everything. And the one who stays forgotten by the world is Izana [to no one’s surprise], except for the few remaining members of the S-62 generation. Multiple police officers that keep a keen eye on all of them, and none of them are stupid enough to try and escape on a day like this — their bond with Izana is worth much more than that. It wasn’t something so shallow.

There are no decorations besides the white chrysanthemums and white lilies sitting in front of an old picture of him — a picture of when he first was admitted into juvenile detention all those years ago, he looked so young, his eyes were the same then as they are now. Dead. No sign of light. His cold body lies in a plain wooden casket. It’s an empty, stifling ceremony.

Shion is uncharacteristically quiet, and that alone would’ve been an insane sight if it were another day, but everyone understands his silence today. Nobody mentions it. Nobody says anything at all. It’s so silent, each breath drawn echoes, and something feels extremely off about the ceremony — something that has Ran glancing around the room every couple of minutes.

An obvious reason for this is how Kakuchō is not here; that kid would never miss this for anything, everyone knows this, and Ran can assume what happened. His injuries must be quite severe, and it’s rather a miracle that he had woken up, heck, even much earlier than the doctor’s expected. A sign of God’s mercy (and for a moment, in that cramped cell, Ran is a believer of faith). If Kakuchō is still awake, there’s no doubt he would be longfully staring out that white hospital room. Those cold, sad eyes of his watching the way the snow falls, burying the world.

And the other reason is how at the front of this cramped room, right next to the casket, sits a girl Ran has never seen before. It's alarming. Your head stays down as you only look at Izana, you haven’t bothered to look up since they have entered the room earlier. Ran can’t help, but wonder who you are. Who you are to Izana. An outsider to the S-62 generation that Izana had built from cold, scarred hands for delinquents like him. Ran wants to know so badly, but he is too tired, and now isn’t the time to focus on people he doesn’t know nor cares about.

Ran slips the singular white flower into Izana’s folded hands, all stiff, scarred, and freezing cold. A body of a dead man. He decides to place another: Kakuchō’s offering. Perhaps, that kid’s prayers would reach him, his heart has always been more pure than all of theirs combined, a softer soul trapped within this cruel world. Ran doesn't know why, but he whispers to Izana that he is sorry (he doesn’t know for what — maybe, everything), yet his eyes dwell on you.

When you turn and catch his curious eyes, he doesn’t look away; neither do you. Attempting to smile, it’s almost as if he’s looking straight into a mirror; a shiver runs down his spine.

He smiles back.

—

August tastes like cigarettes and bitter cherries. Just like it had last year in February, when blood, bones and ash had fallen and scattered around Yokohama that cold night, moments before the snow began to fall down. Gradients of whites and reds painting the town.

It’s a rather cool evening for a summer day when Ran finds himself visiting Yokohama after so long (even after his release, which had been quite some time ago, he hasn’t stepped foot here). There’s melancholy lingering in the air, much like how it always clings onto to long summer nights. Ran welcomes this, allowing his feet to lead him. Anywhere, everywhere, or nowhere at all. He just walks down the bustling streets, endlessly.

Something feels strange. . . Something is going to change this summer, something big; the unexpected always comes to people like him.

Downtown, there's a small bar that catches his eye. There's nothing too special about the shop — decorated with tacky neon flickering signs. Open, reflecting within his eyes. There's something inside of him that tells him he needs to enter, and so, he does just that.

And that feeling of his comes true within minutes. Ran sees you again. Coincidentally [or perhaps, fate, or by total chance].

The Izakaya isn’t really filled with people; either due to it still being early, since work hours are still going on or it just isn’t popular among the many identical shops along this street. And he should’ve invited Rindō to come with him; who enters and eats at an Izakaya alone? Ran has never gone out to eat or drink alone before, either way, it’s not like he’s a kid, so it doesn’t really matter that much, but he knows Rindō will be bitching to him about going out to eat alone. Well, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later.

Ran sits down at a table for two; ordering a small plate of yakitori and umeshu, something sweet and cold to drink. A waitress comes over and places his food down, his eyes widening at a familiar face, he speaks before he thinks, “Do you remember me?”

Your brows draw together, you look him up and down, then shake your head. “I. . . I am not too sure. I don’t believe so. Have we met before?”

He pauses. Disappointment swirls in his stomach, sinking. He tries not to think about why it makes him feel that way — like, disappointment is normal, but he knows he’s not someone unforgettable. “No. I must’ve been mistaken. Sorry ‘bout that.” He offers you a polite smile and that’s when he sees your eyes widen in recognition, the bar’s yellow lights flickering in yours; shining, shining, shining.

His finger glides against the rim of the glass cup, as he waits for you to speak — he knows you will say something. The ice cube clinks against the glass.

Clink. . . clink. . . clink.

“Oh—! Wait, um, you’re from the funeral. . .?” Uncertain as you carefully utter those words, he confirms this, and your eyes brighten. “Oh, hold on. Sorry, I can’t really talk right now, but my shift ends in twenty minutes,” you drift off, eyes darting toward the old big clock that hangs on the wall. You hopefully ask, “Wait for me?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure,” Ran casually says, ”take your time.” You thank him with a smile.

[Twenty minutes turn into fourty, and for some reason, he stays and waits for you. The yakitori was worth it, anyway. He’s grown to appreciate the taste of plums a little more today, too. It’s sweet.]

The both of you don’t say much tonight. Only indulging in introductions and small talk. The pier isn’t so far from the Izakaya, barely a ten minute walk away. When the two of you sit on the ledge, close yet not close enough to be touching, it’s all silent. Not a comforting one — one where the air feels thicker and there’s this itch where he feels as if he needs to say something to break this awkward tension. Curiously silent, because Ran has a lot of things to say — things he needs to know, but that can wait for another day.

“It’s a little breezy tonight,” you attempt to break the silence. He can tell there’s a lot on your mind, too, but you probably won’t say anything either. Not tonight, at least.

He offers, “Would you like my cardigan?”

You shake your head, declining. “No, but thank you. You might get cold without it.”

Relief runs over him when you decline because he is cold, he tends to get cold easily (which is something he and Rindō argue about because Rindō always, always, always turns the heat down in their apartment because he gets hot easily, even though Ran tells him not to touch it), and doesn’t like sharing his clothes or anything he owns with anyone. But Ran is a gentleman, or so he tries to be, girls feel special when he acts like this, and he likes making them think that. Well, sometimes he does. Sometimes, he doesn’t know.

“If you say so. That was my one and only offer so don’t complain after,” he halfheartedly teases (he still thinks you should’ve accepted it, because anyone would’ve if he was the one offering, but that’s your loss, really).

Maybe the way he was joking misses, because you simply reply, “I won’t.” And he hums. Silence falls over again.

“He was such an idiot,” your voice is anything but harsh when you say this. So soft, fond, a whisper of love. Too angelic, Ran is sure it will never reach him. He almost misses your words under the waves, too.

He doesn’t know who you are to Izana. A part of him understands, though. No matter what you two were or who you are, he knows you have loved Izana so dearly, you probably have for a long time. It’s quite obvious, the feeling of him that lingers onto you — he can feel it all.

His fists tightens around nothing, nail digging into his palm. How come he has never seen or heard of you before? Ran knows for a fact that Kakuchō knows you. Does Shion as well? He’s obsessed with Izana, obsessed to an unhealthy degree, so surely he knows or at least has caught a glimpse of you before. Maybe he really didn’t know Izana at all.

It’s kind of frustrating, he thinks.

Ran agrees with you. Though, he doesn’t verbally express it. Izana really was an idiot, a selfish one who was always stuck in his own head, and Ran would never get to tell him that. He’ll never get to tell him anything again. Bitterness, regret, and anger fill him for a split second, only a second, not a millisecond longer, because these emotions quickly fade back into nothing. Nothing because Ran can do nothing, but feel nothing.

“Do—Do you usually sit out here, doing nothing? Watching the world?” he sniffles. It’s summer, midsummer, heat is supposed to consume them, especially during these short nights, but the weather has been strange lately. He’s not even cold, it’s just when the breeze passes by, he gets bad shivers.

The flame of the lighter flickers, you’re lighting a cigarette — he didn’t peg you as a smoker (despite only knowing you for less than an hour at maximum), and he grimaces once he catches sight of a little pink box sliding back into your pocket. Pianissimo. Peach flavoured, of course, he almost snorts.

“Sometimes,” you reply as you breathe out the smoke. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You pass the cigarette to him, he accepts, saying, “Nah, it’s fine.” Your smeared lip gloss stains the tip of the cigarette, his lips overlap with the marking, inhaling the bitter smoke to feel that familiar burn, it’s quite mild compared to what he prefers, something sweet lingers within, too.

“Okay, but that was my one and only offer.”

Ran chuckles at the familiar remark, and you let one out, too. “Okay. I get it.” He passes back the cigarette. “A cheeky one, aren’t you?” It comes off more flirtatious than intended, but it makes you smile at him, cheekily.

You’re captured by the moonlit water, cigarette ashes drifting down, down, down, eyes taken by the ashes, his eyes drift back to you, and that sentimental expression you wear.

(Losing someone isn’t anything new. It’s normal in a world like this. He wonders if you know this; you definitely do.)

—

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I am sure,” you tell him, “it’s not even a party, it’s just a get together. Go have fun with your boys. Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve hung out like that?”

“Knowing them it will be a party instead,” Kakuchō replies with a short sigh. He has never been too fond of crowds and strangers. You wonder why he is so insistent on you joining, however you don’t ask. You tell him you are sure and want to stay home, before shoo-ing him out the door.

And despite your warnings [nagging, as Kakuchō likes to call it], when you go to see him the next day, you’re met with a hungover Kakuchō and two boys knocked out on his old, leather couch. One of them is barely hanging on, half of his body is dangling off, and you aren’t sure how he didn’t wake up from being uncomfortable. And the other, you are quick to recognise as Haitani Ran.

Kakuchō was indeed right. It’s always a party with the Haitani brothers, you’ve heard this from others before, too. You take a second glance at Kakuchō. Poor, poor, poor Kakuchō, who can barely open his eyes and stumbles his way towards you, more so to what you have in your hand, that glutton, you almost burst into giggles.

You greet him, asking him simple questions like: did you have fun last night? Too much fun, you guess. Are you hungry? And he’s replying to each one with nods and grunts and incoherent strings of ‘yeah’, ‘uh-huh’, and the most annoying one of all, ‘what’. Maybe, you both were too loud because the sound of shuffling behind catches yours and Kakuchō's attention. Both boys are awake — stuck in a similar state as Kakuchō — sets of tired purple eyes peering around the room as if they didn’t even realise they crashed at their younger friend’s place.

After a few seconds, Ran speaks up. “Oh. Good morning.” He doesn’t look too surprised seeing you. His hand ruffles through his wavy hair, smoothing out his bed head as he flashes you a grin. Ran has a pretty smile. He’s pretty first thing when he wakes up, and that alone makes you envious. It’s unfair.

“Hi, good morning,” your voice comes out a little quieter than you wish it had.

Ran is still smiling, as he repeats, “Good morning.” A slight pause as you smile, too. He cocks his head to the side, introducing the boy beside him. “My baby brother, Rinrin,” he lazily introduces.

“Don’t call me that,” the boy [Rinrin] grumbles as he turns to you and gives a slight nod, “Rindō.” Rindō, not Rinrin, bends down to sweep up a shirt from the floor, slipping it back on, covering his tattoo, long black ink that paints half his chest. Your eyes linger for a moment too long, before moving onto Ran, whom for some strange reason, you know to have the other half of that tattoo on his body. They look so different yet alike.

Ran raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging on his corner of his lip once he catches your lingering gaze. Like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He mouths, ‘What?’, you turn your head away, feeling embarrassed. Your body heat rises to your neck, cheeks, and ears.

You can feel another set of eyes on you, not belonging to Ran, however you don’t look back up. You place the homemade bento on the counter, Kakuchō lets out a sigh, “Finally.” You roll your eyes at the boy.

“Sorry, I didn’t know Kakuchō would be having guests, so I only made enough for one person. . .”

You aren’t actually sorry. It’s just a little awkward. Kakuchō could’ve given you a heads up. It feels rude only bringing a meal enough for one when there’s a party of four (though, you didn’t plan on staying over after dropping off his food).

“Nah, it’s cool. We can share,” Ran says.

“No. Let’s order something else, too. I’m starving.” Rindō brings up. You all collectively agree with him because there’s no way the food you had brought is enough for the four of you.

Ran orders yakisoba and soda for all of you. Kakuchō loudly complains when he notices the two of them picking at the food you made for him, even with the yakisoba right there.

—

“So,” Ran begins.

You look up at him. “So?”

“Can I call you later?”

“For what?”

“To see you again,” he replies, “I have a feeling we’re going to keep running into each other.”

“That may be so.”

—

Haitani Ran was right. You do meet again and again and again. Sometimes he will get a call, lips pressing into a thin line, threatening to fall into a frown as he slips into another room for a few minutes before coming out to tell you that he has to go. He doesn’t say what, you don’t ask, but you know. It’s the same thing that has Kakuchō leaving his apartment in the middle of the night, too. You try not to think about it – acknowledge it – it has nothing to do with you.

He stops by from time to time, dropping by whenever he is in the neighbourhood, much like today. You’re no longer surprised when you open the door to be met with that charming smile of his, rather once you hear the familiar sound of knocking or ringing of the doorbell, you sort of expect it to be Ran.

“You play the guitar?” His line of gaze falls onto the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner of the living room.

“Hm? Oh no, that belongs to Izana.” Used to. A pause, before you add, “There was a time when I used to beg him to teach me and he gave up after an hour.”

Ran snorts as his lips curl up. “That’s a good job for you then. He would’ve given up on the guys in less than five minutes so you probably did okay, right?”

You laugh at his words. It’s the truth, because Izana has always been an impatient (impulsive) guy. “Maybe. Kakuchō was able to learn how to play it, and I remember being a little jealous of him because Izana seemed happy to have someone to talk about music with.”

You were jealous, upset, embarrassed at your lack of ability — you thought, maybe you just aren’t talented? You eventually came to terms with it. But there were moments when you would watch Izana and Kakuchō play their guitars (—Izana set money aside and bought a used guitar just for Kakuchō, you assume Kakuchō leaves it hidden away, far away from everyone and everything), the room fills with music and you would be sitting on the couch listening, listening, and listening until you’re slowly drifting asleep to their melodies.

You take a hollow breath.

“Those two have known each other since they were kids. . . Ah, you, as well, right?” he asks and you nod your head in confirmation.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Ran lifts his eyes to meet yours. Ever so purple, beautifully vibrant, like a gem, you’re afraid it could shatter. He smiles, softer, sadder. “I see. The three of you have a special bond then. Something others cannot replicate.”

Your heart races, then pangs at his words. Something special.

Yeah, it is special, you could never forget it. Even if you wanted to.

“Just like you and your brother. The charismatic brothers of Roppongi: the Haitani brothers,” you say, voice light with a small smirk on your lips. “I have heard some stories about you two.”

“Mhm, I bet you have. All good things, I assume?”

You tease, “Maybe, maybe not.”

He chuckles to himself. “So, good rumours,” he concludes with a satisfied look, “I am Haitani Ran, after all.” Definitely nothing good, you both know, or so, you assume Ran knows.

You agree, “That’s right, Mr. Haitani.”

He smirks at the name.

Ran doesn’t ask if it’s okay to touch the guitar, he just takes it, yet you can’t find yourself getting upset or complaining about it. You watch as he plops down onto the couch, patting the spot next to him, indicating you to come over, in which you do. “Ran, do you know how to play?”

He looks over at you and winks, “Oh, honey, that’s what you are about to find out. Keep your eyes on me.”

You roll your eyes.

It’s not even two minutes later, when you do find out, just like Ran had said. You learn he doesn’t know how to play at all. Ran plays the same tune over and over again, or he attempts to, it sounds nothing like the pretty way Izana plays. It’s clunky, off-tune, yet something about it feels tender. So, so gentle; your heart trembles along with the tune. Ran doesn’t seem to care about his lack of skills; lavender eyes softly gazed on the way his slender fingers move against the strings — a faint smile to his lips, rosy and glossy from your cherry lip balm you saw him put on earlier, as he plays Izana’s beloved acoustic guitar.

You remember Izana at this moment. The way he played all his favourite songs — how Bohemian Rhapsody and Under Pressure was played on repeat in his little apartment. How, on this very couch that you and Ran are sitting on, he used to get frustrated at how you couldn’t memorise or understand what he was teaching you (and in your defense, he sucks at teaching, definitely one of the only things he has ever sucked at), and you would cry at his frustration. Izana eventually gave up and instead learned to play your favourite song for you.

You wanted to learn it yourself, but you were so happy at the same time. It felt special. You felt special.

You remember, you remember, you close your eyes, and you remember it all. It dances to the memories every day, a little record stuck on repeat. It’s all you have left of him. What if one day your heart suddenly doesn’t remember?

“Falling asleep to my playing?” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, all you see is Ran in front of you.

You shake your head and smile at the sight, Ran catches it and flashes a pretty smile back, laughing beneath his breath as he attempts to show off by playing a series of random chords quickly. Giggling at his antics, you attempt to sing along; humming a random tune as the two of you try to match each other, clearly missing the beat. Soft laughter, light teasing, Ran playing the guitar and you singing along fills the room in your apartment. Your hearts dance along, ever so intimately. You feel light, so light, and you haven’t felt this way in a long time.

Maybe you could get used to this (perhaps, you already are).

“I don’t know anything about guitars or any instrument,” he admits, “maybe besides the recorder.” He looks disheartened at the fact as he stops playing and his fingernail taps against the wood, it echoes back.

“It’s okay, I am no good at it either. I also only know how to play the recorder,” only because it is mandatory to learn in primary school. “I am probably better than you at it, though.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge, young miss?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” he says. “Someday, of course.”

You nod. “Someday.”

—

Ran sleeps with you for the first time tonight. After dinner, he was too lazy, and your couch was too comfortable, so he didn’t want to leave, and you didn’t really seem to think of anything when you offered for him to stay the night. He didn’t think much of it when he agreed. It’s so innocent, yet more intimate than everything he has ever known. He feels. . . strange.

Your mattress is quite small, however Ran prefers it this way for obvious reasons. The dip in the mattress that allows you to get closer, he can feel your body heat so vividly, if he closed his eyes he could probably imagine it, except he doesn’t. He just stares at your bare face, who stares back at him.

“Your hair looks so pretty like this, Ran. I like it.” Your compliment makes him smile, it’s not often when someone witnesses his hair down, wavy and what he considers to be a mess. Your finger runs over the loose waves, twirling the end with your fingertip. He thinks you look pretty, too, in your pajamas, and bare faced.

You ask, “Can I braid your hair when we wake up tomorrow?”

“I like my hair a certain way.” He replied without much thought. He almost doesn’t notice that he didn’t necessarily reject the request.

You pout your lips, and give Ran your best puppy eyes — little gems are shooting out of your eyes towards him, but he is not one to fall for that. Do you think he’d be the type to fall for a cheap trick? If he were, he would’ve been screwed ages ago. You picked the wrong person for that. “Is that a no?”

He softly hums, debating to himself. “I am just—” he tries to think of the right word. He just hates when others touch his hair, his clothes, his jewelry, he spends so much time perfecting his appearance — he hates when others ruin it. “I rarely let Rindō touch my hair.” He decides to say this, because it’s something people can come to understand.

“I learn quickly. . .”

He sighs. Not one out of annoyance, more so at how he is so quick to give into your wishes. “Alright, fine. I will teach you how I like it done tomorrow.” You’re lucky that you’re cute, he almost adds.

He bites his tongue.

But he doesn’t know why. He says those types of things all the time. It’s a strange night. He’s been doing things he doesn’t do or say.

You lift your hand to his face, your pinky sticks out, “Promise?”

A pinky promise. Ran almost snorts — he would’ve if he weren’t so tired, if you didn’t look so cute and serious, and he would have laughed if it were someone else. Ran hasn’t pinky promised since he was a kid, barely eleven, promising something mundane to Rindō (the world, Roppongi, a new house, a new life, he remembers, he always will).

He softly sighs, sending you a sleepy smile as he locks your pinky with his. His thumb presses against yours, sealing the promise with a kiss. His eyes flicker down to your soft lips, you are grinning so happily over a mere pinky promise, what a simple thing bringing you happiness. “I promise.”

For a moment, he thinks he could give you something worth more than this little promise — pretty, shiny things that could make you smile even more. But he knows you aren’t someone like that. And that’s fine to him.

If braiding his hair makes you happy, for some weird reason, then he’s okay with it, too.

—

Ran awakens in the middle of the night, the room is coated in darkness, the moonlight shines through the crack of the curtain and that is how he knows it is still night time. He is not used to not sleeping in his own bed, he immediately notices your lack of presence, fingers tracing the empty surface, the side you had slept on is barely warm; you were still here not too long ago.

He slowly gets up, quietly walking down the hall to find you sitting curled up on the couch, on the side that is closest to the wall where Izana’s guitar rests. Unaware of him, his presence, and everything else in the world.

He lingers everywhere in your apartment, your home, your mind. It leaves Ran questioning: when you make a person your home, where do you go when they’re gone? Where do you go? Tell him.

He leans against the wall, asking, “You can’t sleep?”

Your body jolts. Your head snaps up, as you glance in his direction, and you shake your head, beginning to relax. “Oh, Ran. . . No, I was just getting some water.”

He hums, going along with your poorly webbed lie, your heart is exposed bare on your sleeve, so cold, lonely, he glances from the empty coffee table to the acoustic guitar to your unshed tears. You are seriously a terrible liar. That’s a good thing for him. “Do you mind the company?” He doesn’t want to intrude somewhere he doesn’t belong.

You shake your head once again, “No. Not at all.” You pat the spot next to you, and Ran moves from the wall to the spot next to you. You’re watching him silently, sinking back into the cushions.

“Are you thinking about him?”

You tilt your head towards him, sending a weak smile, unable to find the words for an answer that the both of you already knew.

“It’s okay. Sometimes, I still think about him, too.” He assures.

You ask, “You do?” You sound rather surprised, and he is also surprised by his own honesty.

“Yeah. He was. . .” Words die easily on his tongue as he struggles to find the right words to say. There’s not much he can say, despite all of the memories and feelings he once had. What can he even say about Izana? He can’t think of anything nice or normal that one would say about an acquaintance (friend, comrade, boss). “He was an interesting guy. I kinda admired him.”

He was an interesting guy, Ran had thought so their first meeting, years ago back in juvie. He was the only person that left a deep impression on him. Izana was many things. Anything, but a good man. He used to be a good boy (probably), once so long ago. Ran really did admire him, he wouldn’t have followed just anyone. He admired him to the point where he spent his entire youth following the boy.

“I did, too.” Barely heard even in this room containing only the two of you, it sounds a little bitter. Just a tad.

“Yeah, I’m sure he knows,” he says, leaning his head down to rest on top of yours. You breathe quietly next to him, all of the little noises can be heard in this silence. Your legs stretch out, dangling beside his.

It’s a long time before either of you speak. And then, you look up at him. There’s something glimmering in your eyes.

You tell him a story and then two more of your childhood. You laugh and tear up through them. He laughs, stays silent, and smiles as he tentatively listens to your every word. It’s his turn, you don’t ask him, but it’s only fair if he shares something personal with you; something he and only Rindō know. He wants you to know. He wants to tell you sides of him that he’s outgrown and sides that nobody knows. He tells you about the dog Rindō wants to adopt one day, you say you want to see it, but Ran tells you about how he doesn’t really want to have pets in his apartment (though, it’s sometimes hard to say no to Rindō). You tell him about the stray cat you used to feed a few months ago, and how you haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She’s probably fine, Ran tries to assure you, there’s a chance somebody had picked her up and adopted her. You hope so.

The two of you fall asleep on your couch, one far too small for him, curled up, and entangled together. He sleeps so soundly, the cotton of his shirt soaking up your silent tears.

[Ran believes — no, he knows that he visited you in a dream last night. He must’ve. You look so at peace.

The sun hits, orange light shining through the gaps of the curtains, and you look so at peace as you sleep, leg wrapped around his waist as you lay against his chest. His fingers run through your hair, carefully, not wanting to wake you. His index finger ghosts over your cheek and Ran freezes when you shift in your sleep, smiling when he realises you aren’t going to wake.

You must be a heavy sleeper. Or maybe, you’re having a sweet dream and aren’t ready to wake yet.

He admires you for minutes that seem to last forever. He comes to terms with the fact that he’s doomed, and decides he doesn’t want to think about it or you anymore, before drifting back to sleep.]

—

When morning hits (or rather afternoon), Ran stops to look at you before leaving. His hand lingers on the doorknob. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod. “. . . Should be,” you reply, smiling. “See you later, Ran, and thank you.”

His eyes are gazing down at you, his expression seemingly confused — conflicted, before his eyes soften, turning back into pretty little gems. His smile is so pretty. “I’ll call you,” he says.

It’s a promise.

—

It’s Wednesday, your afternoon lecture was cancelled due to the professor’s sudden family emergency, so you invited Kakuchō to hang out around Shibuya. Luckily, he didn’t have any of those meetings to attend. “Are you dating Haitani Ran?”

Your heart almost stops at hearing this.

“What—no, of course, not,” you reply — one far too quick, your voice raises and you hear Kakuchō scoff under his breath. You almost stop your tracks, instead you turn your head in his direction, narrowing your eyes, clearing your throat before asking, “Why are you asking me that?”

He shrugs, opting on not replying to your question, and you frown, pressing your lips into a thin line. When you lightly hit his shoulder, he sighs, giving into you. “You always hang out these days.”

What a ridiculous reason. “Is that so weird? You and I see each other almost daily,” you reason.

Another scoff escapes his lips as if you had just said the most insane thing in the world. He tells you, “I’ve seen him leave your apartment in the morning. More than once.”

“We didn’t sleep together,” you defensively reply. A growing sense of irritation quickly builds inside of you. “It’s nothing like that. I swear.”

“So, it’s nothing.”

“Well, you know. . .” You trail off, looking at the people fleeing in and out of the cafés and clothing shops. You don’t deny it. You don’t know if you should, yet it’s not really anything, maybe something. He’s your friend. Just like Kakuchō. Just like Izana.

He sighs before saying, “You look at him like how you did with Izana.”

You freeze.

Kakuchō steps stop the moment yours do.

You look at him like how you did with Izana. You grow cold from those words alone, your heart tightens by an old memory of Izana flashing by. Those words play on repeat with the memories.

Just like Izana.

You feel faint.

There’s a tap on your shoulder, you notice the guilt on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you upset. I won’t ask, you don’t gotta say anything. I get it.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I am not upset.” You aren’t upset, but you don’t know how you are feeling. You know you aren’t upset by his words, but your heart stings. You want to cry, but you don’t understand why. [You do, and this makes you feel like sobbing.]

“Okay, well, can I ask why Ran? Rindō is the cooler brother,” he says.

Why Ran. You don’t know this yourself. You just know you like being with Ran. His presence is comforting, he makes you feel less alone in moments you feel alone. You just like being with Ran. You just want to be around that person. It’s as simple as that.

You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger into his forearm, lightly pressing your nail into his muscle. “You only say that because he works out with you.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. That’s the manliest thing someone can do. And he drinks more than any guy I know, it’s kind of insane, and he will still show up to the meeting the next day.”

You grimace. You could never pull yourself out of bed if you were that hungover — and, well, you’re sure that Rindō is dragged and forced to go to these ‘meetings’. Probably. There’s no way it is solely dedication.

“Right. Don’t be drinking with him, got it?” You don’t need Kakuchō developing even more bad habits. Sometimes you can’t help, but nag, even if it doesn't really reach him (if you were Izana, it’d be a whole different case), always going in and out the other ear. “Kaku, are you doing okay these days?”

“I’m fine, but also, a little hungry.”

“Kakuchō.” You lower your voice in an attempt to sound more serious — threatening, maybe. Obviously, it doesn’t work because Kakuchō doesn’t reply or react in any way. “Come on now. Talk to me, I know it’s something.”

He sighs, his eyes don’t meet any part of you. He turns away, the long, faded scar running across his face becomes hidden. “It’s always like this. In the end, I am always the only one who ends up surviving.” You’d prefer bitterness, anger, or sadness – anything – over the empty feeling in his words. Your heart aches, you don’t want Kakuchō to leave you, too.

You don’t even want to imagine such a thing.

You want to hold him.

Your hand reaches out to grab him, so firm and all of his little scars and calluses are felt and seen. Kakuchō looks down at you the moment you touch him. He doesn’t pull away. “I am sorry to say this, I know you won’t want to hear it now, but I am grateful for that. I’d be sad if you weren’t here with me. You are my family, Kaku. Don’t forget that. So, please don’t say something so sad.”

And he’s quick to look away again, too.

He says, “. . . I’d be lonely without you, too.”

Your hand tightens around his. His hand is warm, like it always is, his body always runs hot, too hot, but he is still alive. You’re alive. “You could at least look at me when you say that.”

He grumbles something incomprehensible, you tilt in your head in confusion, “Hm? What was that?”

“I said, ‘what do you want to eat?’”

“Aren’t you being too shy? I guess you’re at that age now,” you continue to tease him, watching as the tip of his ears turn red. Kakuchō has never been good at voicing his own feelings, he speaks through his actions alone — through iron fists and undying loyalty — just like most of the men you have ever known. You grin at the reaction. “Hmm, well, how about we have okonomiyaki tonight? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The three of you used to eat that quite often back then, Kakuchō would be the one who would always make it for you and Izana. You haven’t had it since then. You’re craving it like crazy now.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s find a place less crowded, though.”

He really is still the same. Just older now, maybe maturing and experiencing life in all the wrong ways. But he is still your Kakuchō.

You wonder if he thinks the same of you.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

And similar to Kakuchō, you’ve never been so fond of crowds, either. Arms linked, you walk to an old restaurant owned by a cute elderly couple. You tell him you love him (because you do, since back then and now and in the future), he almost pushes you away right then and there, you burst out in laughter.

Kakuchō sits in front of you, in the past he used to sit beside you, you assume maybe it’s because it’s easier to talk this way. A guess because you aren’t so sure. He accidentally makes an extra okonomiyaki the first round, a habit he cannot erase, you both know why, you don’t say anything. You take the extra okonomiyaki and eat it for him.

—

Ran believes that some things are meant to happen for a reason.

You and him.

Him and you.

He throws a party for his brother’s birthday as he does every single year. He only invites their friends who immediately invite other people they know as it always goes and the apartment is filled to a brim. Just like every year.

You arrive a little later than most people, due to work and having to get ready, and Ran immediately removes himself from a group of people surrounding him (a chorus of boo’s are thrown at him), and rushes over to you.

“Hey. You took a while.”

You’re all smiles around him already. “I had to shower and get ready first.”

“You still look pretty in your work uniform.”

You look up at him, pointedly. “And smell like alcohol and chicken and fish?”

Ran grins, “Not much different from here, yeah? I love eating chicken.”

You playfully shove him and his grin widens as he pulls you into the drunk dancing crowd.

When he makes eye contact with Rindō, who is DJing (like always), his brother is clever enough to change the music to keep the two of you close. Bodies are bumping into him and you, you’re really close and your hands are in the air, in your hair, and on him. People are too close, too loud, too intoxicating. He has to lean down every time you attempt to say something to him — a lot of it is just you singing — and your lips brush against the shell of his ear every time.

Every. Single. Time. Electricity jolts through him.

Hair is sticking to your forehead, face red and glowing from dancing, sweat, and the mixture of body heat; you’re stunning and all Ran can think of is how badly he wants to kiss you when you bite your lower lip when you meet his gaze once again.

He pulls you closer, and it happens within a second. You kiss him first. Lips briefly pressing against his, you’re quick to pull back before he can reciprocate, and you flash him a smile more blinding than these flickering neon lights. He pulls you back in for a proper kiss this time.

Admittedly, this is not your first kiss together. He had kissed you once before – barely a peck – one night when he had picked you up from work and drove you home. It can barely be called a kiss, but Ran would be lying if he said it didn’t cause a shock that ran through his entire body. Later that night, alone in his room, his thumb brushed over his lips and they still tingled with the feeling of you.

This kiss, unlike the previous brief and fleeting exchange, he can taste all of you. Openmouthed, desperate, and a little shameless, too (but he doubts anyone is actually paying attention). Your hands find their way to his hair — much like they always seem to do — and Ran sighs when your fingers run through, gently scratching the nape of his neck. You look up at him with a gleam in your eyes, and he swears he wants to undress you right then and there.

Except, he wouldn’t do that. Plus, a loud whistle and a familiar voice jerks him back to the present (reality). It takes so much in him to hold himself back, he has to physically pull himself away from you for a second. He turns and glares at the interruption — Shion. Obviously. That fucker.

“What?” he asks, slightly annoyed and amused at the boy’s fucked appearance.

Shion grin widens, face glowing with sweat, red eyes, high and drunk on whatever someone had snuck in. Someone sure is having a good time. “Just—‘m just enjoying the show,” he slurs as his eyes make their way behind him, to you.

Ran steps forward and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Shion wobbles with a faint touch. “Go sit down, Madarame. You’re gonna fall over.”

Shion ignores him, brushes past him, and asks you to dance. Ran groans, calling out his name, but Shion blocks out his voice and smiles at you.

So, sure, he and the boys have this thing of cockblocking each other for shits and giggles, but now was definitely not the time for that. He needs to learn how to read the room. Damn idiot. (This is probably Shion’s payback from the last party, and all the times before that, but Ran swears it’s funny when he does it.)

You look from Shion to him and Ran shrugs, as if a shrug is enough to let you know that it’s just Shion, so it’s fine if you wanna dance with him, or not. After a second, you accept his dance with a curt, “Sure.” And Shion smiles, wide with all teeth.

“Behave yourself,” he warns Shion before turning to you. “I am gonna get some water. I’ll leave you to it for a bit.”

Ran walks over to join Rindō at his DJ booth.

Rindō looks at him with a raised brow as he makes his way behind the booth. “You lost your girl to Shion,” Rindō loudly snorts.

“Just letting him be around a girl out of his league for once,” Ran jokingly replies, and they both laugh. “Change the song for me.”

The song switches to something more upbeat; everyone is spinning and jumping, you and Shion, too. He can barely hear his own thoughts through the loud vibrations of the bass. He and Rindō talk about nothing, and Ran lets Shion dance with you for two whole songs. Shion is an idiotic lunatic, especially when he’s drunk, but he’s not stupid enough to do something he knows he shouldn’t. His hands don’t leave your hands, rather, Ran thinks you’re making sure Shion doesn’t let go of your hands, so he doesn’t fall over. Ran thinks you might be too nice. He’s having a good time and so are you, so that’s all that matters. He likes watching you dance, even if it’s not with him.

At some point, he runs to the kitchen to get a cup of water, and when he returns to you, Shion is nowhere in sight. That boy never stays in one place for long.

“Sorry, Shion is an idiot,” he tells you as he offers you the cup in his hand, basically forcing it into your hand to drink.

You chug back the water, no doubt exhausted and dehydrated from all the dancing and sweaty bodies around you. “He’s a funny guy. I had fun.”

Ran gives you a skeptical look. “Guess so, but feel free to ignore him next time.”

You grin, “Really, Ran, he was nice!”

“I sure hope so.” He leans down as whispers against your ear, “My room?”

You nod.

And finally, you’re on top of him. Ran is laying on his back, propped up by his elbows as he watches you take off your top, far too slowly, because you like to tease, and Ran is an impatient man deep down. But in this moment, he lets you do your own thing, and watches, watches, admires your every subtle movement. The real thing is much better than his daydreams. Yes, in the moment, he almost thanked Buddha.

You lean down to kiss him. Rather soft and innocent compared to the way you shift on top of him, and the way your hand runs down between the two of you. He’s rather shameless, and doesn’t bother hiding the way you make him feel. There’s nothing greater than pleasure.

Your movements come to an abrupt stop, and Ran suddenly becomes more aware. For a moment, he thinks you must be teasing him once more — Ran doesn’t beg.

He asks, “You okay?”

You stay quiet, he can’t see your eyes, something is wrong.

“Hey, is there something wrong?” His hand is immediately searching for yours, unknowingly. You pull your hand away before he can reach it. You pull your hands together.

Your voice comes out too quiet. It shakes at the end.

“. . . I’m scared,” you admit.

Ran pauses, his expression drops and he’s quick to sit straight up, reaching over to grab your hand, pulling it into his. His thumb brushes against the back.

He pulls you in his arms, your head lays against his chest as he whispers, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.” He doesn’t need this. “It’s alright, don’t force yourself.”

“No, that’s not what I—” you’re cut off by a whine; your own cry.

He’s scared to death the moment you begin to sob. Full on sobbing, you’re choking, and he can’t calm you down. He’s frantically trying to speak to you, but his words are not reaching you.

He wants to know what’s wrong. He needs to know what he can do to help you. There’s nothing he can do, except hold you.

“I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He frowns. Wrong. Your words alarm him. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s not wrong. Trust me.” He tells you, more firm than his usual tone with you. “You’re okay, baby.”

You shake your head. “It’s not.”

“It is.” He grabs the blanket beneath the two of you and wraps it around your naked figure.

You try to say you’re sorry — words don’t come out, but Ran knows you’re trying to apologise for something that only exists in your mind. There’s nothing wrong at all and he needs you to understand this.

“We’re okay, trust me. We’re more than okay.” He reassures as he holds you a little tighter when he feels your shaky form against him. “Don’t force yourself to do anything, yeah?” His voice drops to a comforting whisper, “Just breathe for me. You can do that.”

You cry into his chest for an hour. He says nothing, but strokes your hair and quietly calls your name from time to time.

After a long time, when your sniffles begin to slow and the party outside the door begins to die down, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say, and leave it at that.

(You think Ran doesn’t understand, and you feel bad because you don’t know how to tell him how his sweetness and understanding and patience with you causes you to cry even more. He’s so sweet, it aches, and aches, and aches, but his arms around you bring comfort and security, and then, so do his lips.)

—

Leaves decay, autumn passes, and it’s almost Christmas. Snow fell greatly last night, piles and piles of snow pack up, and Rindō is dragged outside to play. Play as if he is some seven-year-old kid once again.

The three of you are outside their apartment complex, you’re rolling snow to make a snowman next to one that has already been made — probably by the family that lives on the first floor. They have two little kids — one boy and one girl. Rindō remembers bumping into them in a drunken state, and the mother looked at him in disappointment and disgust as she blocked him from her children (obviously, he wasn’t going to do anything, but he can’t exactly blame the woman, either), Rindō scoffed at her and stumbled his way upstairs.

He and Ran aren’t doing anything, just standing on the sidelines, lighting a cigarette, and watching you. When Ran passes him the cigarette, Rindō is quick to take notice of the difference in smell and taste. Since when did he start smoking another brand? Especially something like this. Still, he smokes it with him without complaint.

“So,” Rindō starts off, gaining his brother’s attention. “How are you?”

Ran’s face twists, he stares at his little brother strangely, as if he had grown another head. “Huh?”

Sure, it is a weird question, because no matter how close they seem (are), they don’t talk about feelings or anything like that, even if they are together almost 24/7. But Rindō just wants to know this time, he’s so curious, because something has changed about his brother. It’s noticeable in everything he does.

His eyes flicker from him to you. “You and her. The two of you are together now, or what’s going on?” Rindō is curious. He knows there’s something more going on, he’s no fool, and the way your eyes always seem to find each other basically screams it to his face. “Hasn’t it been a while?”

Ran shrugs, poker face, as always.

Rindō just lets out an ‘Ah’, and that’s that. There’s never much to say between them because they’ll just accept anything about each other without an explanation.

However, Ran continues speaking about it, much to his surprise. “I am actually fine with it, y’know.”

“Fine with what?” he asks.

“How there will always be a little part of her who loves Izana.” Ran says this so casually, Rindō’s mouth opens slightly, yet there’s nothing he can think to say so he shuts it and stares on ahead. “Even if he were still here. . . yeah, I’d be okay with it, too.”

Ran has always been complex in ways that nobody can understand, and when they finally think they do, he shows them that they never knew him at all. When he wants something, he’s quick to dive in and take it. He takes, takes, and takes. He’s quite cruel at times, it’s how he learned to survive.

(And Rindō learned that from him, too.)

If Izana were here, somewhere in another life, he knows you would still choose Ran — that’s probably what his brother is thinking. That cocky, confident smile tells all. And Ran is probably right about it, he always is, and he’s annoying about that fact, too.

Ran’s eyes have always been a shade darker than his. Yet, in this light, they seem to shine brighter than his.

“Ran!”

The both of them look up. You’re running over, there’s snow in your hair, frosting over. Your smile is bright, teeth showing, the snow around is sparkling. Ran’s smile is suddenly all soft.

“What?” Even his voice is all smiles, and internally, Rindō gags.

“Come here,” your hand pulls him along. Ran follows you like a dog.

And suddenly, it’s only the two of you in the world; moving slowly, kicking snow onto each other, pushing, running, hands never letting go. It’s pure, gentle, something so rare and hard to find, Rindō's heart shakes at the sight of Ran and you.

The idea of Ran and you.

He’s a little jealous, but he will never admit to something like that.

He thinks about taking a picture of Ran to show him how idiotic he looks, but in the end, he decides not to. Ran won’t see what he looks like in this light, unless, as cheesy as it sounds, through the reflection of your eyes.

—

January rolls around, the very first day of the year, and Yokohama’s seaside never seems to change. Dawn is blue, forever blue, you feel as if your soul is about to cry.

Ran had shown up at your apartment right before the hand of the clock struck midnight to no one’s surprise. Well, maybe, you were a little surprised. His brother was throwing a New Year’s party (one you had declined the invitation to), yet here Ran is with you. You ask why, to which he replies with, “I just wanted to see you.” And that is enough for you to let him inside.

The two of you attempt to stay up all night — that attempt is quick to fail, because you both become entangled in your bed, falling into slumber. And once your alarm sets off at five in the morning, you’re dragging Ran out of your bed, pulling his clothes off from your bedroom floor, and pushing him out the door. His hand in yours. You take him to your spot by the pier, almost jogging. It’s nearly six.

“Sleepyhead,” you eventually call out, glancing at the sleepy boy beside you. He could sleep anywhere, you think. It’s a fact known to everyone around him. “You are dozing off. You’ll miss the sunrise.”

After a few beats, your words register through his head. He lazily nods, almost as if he’s nodding off again. “If you don’t say anything, I think I really will pass out,” he mumbles back, voice groggy and deeper than usual from his sleepiness.

You ask, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Mhm. . .”

You ponder for a moment, before asking, “Do you think people ever truly move on from their first love?”

This is enough to wake Ran up. The weight on your head is lifted, he shifts. “That’s heavy,” he breathes out.

“You said anything.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he gives you an answer.

“It depends on the person.” He turns his body to turn and look at you. “Why do you ask? Scared to move on or do you think you’ll never be able to?”

You don’t lift your gaze, settling on the waves below. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You can feel his eyes on you and the smirk that is tugging on his lips, even though you know he is being serious with you. He wants to know. He needs to hear your answer. “I don’t know. . . Do you ever think about your first love?”

“Nah, I don’t think about things like that, sweetheart.”

“Liar. You could at least pretend and go along with me.” He smiles when you say this. You softly sigh, going along with his silence. “But fine. If you did think about those things, do you think you would eventually forget about them?”

Ran’s eyes flicker, violet hues staring deep into you, as he huffs a silent laugh — one that feels a little sad compared to his usual ones. “I think I would carry a part of them with me no matter how much time has passed.”

His words make you softly smile. And they feel a little sad, too. “I see. . . You are quite the romanticist,” you tease.

For some reason, you feel as if your teasing never seems to work against him, he remains as composed as he always is. He whispers, “Aren’t we all?”

It’s strange how easily Ran’s words bring comfort to you. In ways where you feel heard and seen even in darkness. Ran is always like that. There’s a part of you that will never forget Izana, not now or in another life. He will always be someone you love and cherish. Ran understands this — he understands you, never judging. You understand him, too, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Ran, can I ask you something?”

“You sure have a lot of questions today,” he says with both amusement and curiosity swimming in his tone. “Shoot. What else is running through that mind of yours?”

You open your mouth, then pause.

“Hm? What’s with the sudden hesitation? Is it something embarrassing?” he teasingly asks, nudging his shoulder against yours, prompting you to speak your mind. “You can tell me. Promise, I won’t laugh.”

You know he wouldn’t laugh at you — always with you. Never at you. You just can’t find the right words to say to him. [Or maybe the courage.]

“You know I don’t judge you.”

“You judge everyone, Ran.”

His smile drops, and his expression turns more serious than you would like. “Surely you know that you’re not everyone.” He asks, “You understand, don’t you?”

You quietly reply, “I know.”

“Then is it something bad?” His voice goes quiet, too.

“No, it’s just,” you deeply inhale, turning your head back to the sea, averting your gaze from those eyes that look at you so softly [tenderly, with his full adoration], it causes your heart to tighten every time. You fidget with the ends of your hair, exposing your nerves. Another short pause and then you breathe. “I think. . . I think I like you, Ran. Like, a lot, and it terrifies me. Maybe you don’t believe me—I would find it hard to believe, too, because of—”

“I believe you,” his reply comes immediately. Voice so clear among the waves and seagulls calling above. “I can tell. You make it quite obvious sometimes, it’s hard for me to ignore, y’know?”

You blink. “Oh. Um, is it really?” you meekly reply.

Ran hums and heat rises up to your ears in embarrassment. You don’t think you’re somebody who is that obvious. Your face no longer feels the coldness of winter brushing by, internally groaning. You guess it was obvious. The two of you kiss a lot, you’ve gone further than that on a few occasions, and he stays over at your apartment more often than not. It is obvious. But liking and loving someone are two completely different things. (Love. . .)

“I feel the same. But how I feel . . . it is probably too soon to say how I feel for you, so I will wait until you are sure you want this.” His hand brushes against yours — cold from the cement and winter air, pinky dragging across the back of your hand. “Not too long, though. My patience isn’t so gentlemanly.”

Your heart flutters, embarrassment shifting to shyness. I feel the same for you, too. You try to not burst out smiling, lightly biting down onto your lip. Your cheeks betray you. You can feel the heat rising against the wind.

“Oh? Is that what people call you now? I don’t recall you being that much of a gentleman.”

Ran scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Really now?” Beginning to mutter to himself about how he treats you so well, that he’s been born a gentleman — it’s engraved into the very depths of his soul. And to some degree, those words are true. Ran has been nothing but patient with you. Someone who is always there when you need it.

I will wait until you are sure you want this. You do want this, you want to be with him — with the person beside you now. You want us. “Me too,” you say as you gather more courage, leaning towards him a little, your hand rests on his shoulder as you stare straight into those pretty lavender eyes. “I am falling in love with you,” you say to him, more sure than before.

You don’t waver.

A second passes, a wave crashes.

“Mm, I missed what you said. Say it again for me, sweetheart,” he says with that signature smile to his soft, pink lips, “for me, please?”

His plea makes you roll your eyes. Ran loves attention — both good and bad. He loves pretty things and pretty words, even more when they hold something so precious and meaningful in them. I love you. I love you. I love you. I like you so, so much. I want to be with you, Ran. Ran, Ran, Ran — sweet words that have been whispered to him many times before in the past (and many more times in the future, including now).

You lean over, cherry lips brushing against his ear, as light as a feather. You whisper a confession. A heartfelt confession. The wind rushes by, his hair tickles your flushed cheek, and a sweet confession only for the two of you to know, drowned out by everything else in the world.

It’s just you and Ran.

Snow gently falls, your hand found itself in Ran’s, his fingers intertwined between yours. He doesn’t let go. You don’t let go. Even when the sun begins to rise over the blue horizon, not when you’re walking back to your apartment, not when Kakuchō and Rindō stop by later for dinner and Ran is doing nothing, but admiring you as you cook. Neither of you let go for a long, long time.

It’s just Ran and you.

#tokyo revengers #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers

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spacelazarwolf · 2 days ago

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in an activist group i was part of then had to leave several weeks after oct 7th because of how horrifically antisemitic it became, someone posted about a protest they couldn’t authenticate and someone’s first response was that it MUST have been a fake protest poster made by “zionists” to trick people. when i was like “hey what do you mean by ‘zionists’?” one guy immediately assumed i didn’t know what zionist meant and linked me to a stalinist instagram page describing zionism the way the ussr did. when i clarified that i knew what it meant and that i was asking the first guy to be more specific, he admitted he couldn’t be. he wasn’t talking about specific people or organizations. he had a gut reaction and immediately assumed something suspicious was a “zionist trick.” THIS is what we mean when we say that zionist is used as a dogwhistle. antisemites repeat it over and over with the intention for it to replace what they really mean, which is jews, until they find a way in which the general public finds it acceptable. it gets integrated into the lexicon, and people don’t even realize it.

so when you are talking about “zionists” and “the zionist entity” you need to ask yourself if you remember where you heard that the first time and if you know exactly who it is you’re talking about, and not just “you know, the bad guys.”

I find posts talking about murders by the “zionist entity” unnerving… why aren’t you saying “the State of Israel” or “the IDF” for this info-activism?

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zephyrsobsessions · 1 day ago

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @insomniaflarrow (my first tag in one of these!!! Thank you!!!)

Sharing another bit of Don hit Loki with a wrench cause I've been writing it so much and really like how it's coming along! Wanted to show a bit of Loki's perspective this time!

“It’s alright,” Loki waved his hands dismissively, “I deserved it.” Loki admitted, realizing how he had probably sounded. “It doesn’t look too bad.” Mobius grimaced, the hand that was on Loki’s shoulder now hovering near his injured cheek. Loki chuckled, easily detecting Mobius’ lie. “Yeah, alright.” He rolled his eyes, and then with a flick of his wrist, healed himself. He opened his mouth to adjust his jaw, checking that it was back in place, but quickly noticed the disbelief flash across Mobius’ face, followed by several other emotions that Loki could instantly name. It only took Loki a moment to realize why Mobius was so shocked. Because this was not his Mobius, therefore he did not know that Loki was the god of mischief. “Uh…” Was all that Loki could muster, once again finding himself speechless. It wasn’t often he didn’t know what to say.

I don't know many people who write fic, so here's a couple no-pressure tags: @distracteddream and @gloriouslokiuss! (Feel free to let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next one!) And even if you aren't tagged, feel free to tag me in it anyway, I love seeing what people are writing!

#this is making me realize that i need more lokius mutuals #feel free to reach out to me if you want to be mutuals btw!#always open to make new friends #also BEGGING for people to tag me in their wips - its so cool to me to see!!!#MY FIRST #WIP Wednesday #IM ACTUALLY SO HONORED?!?!?#i kid you not when i read that notification i was SO CLOSE to crying of joy #made my WEEK i swear!!#lokius #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #loki series #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #and yes - it is currently tuesday for me but im posting this anyway lol

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ashes-writing-corner · 1 day ago

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And we are back, literally on time for Nosferatu to come out! Yall gifmakers are gifts from the gods I swear! Thank you for all you do! And to those who read my story and enjoy it, yall are gifts too and I love all of you ^^

Taglist: @exactlyelegantwizard, @xenoanamorph, @hoeia-strigoi, @arwenkenobi48, @xanth420, @serpentdeath, and @landlockedmermaid77

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know ^^

On to chapter 3!

Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 3

You're not my homeland anymore. So what am I defending now?

Ellen was at a loss. She honestly had no idea what to do. How could this have happened? How could she have been so blind? Ever eternally…and the Beast had seriously meant it. Even in death they couldn't be parted. There had to be a way…something…anything. This was not how she wanted to spend her eternal rest, lying next to the monster who made her life a living hell.

Not just her life. Thomas’ too for the brief time he knew of the situation. Her beloved Thomas…she couldn’t help but wonder about him now. Where was he? Was he even alive? Ellen didn’t take him for the sort to take his own life, and she would be devastated if that were the case. He had been her everything after the Beast abandoned her initially.

Oh yes, he left her. He left her alone when she needed him most. Left her with nothing but trauma and a severely scarred soul and a heart to match. It had hurt, even if Ellen wouldn’t admit it aloud. She didn’t understand why he had pulled away so harshly, so suddenly. But he stopped answering her, stopped visiting her, leaving her with this numbing sadness. She had waited, and waited, weeks turning to months, before she met Thomas.

He had been one of the few suitors her father had found for her. He wasn’t rich, nor did he have a well known name, but Thomas was hard working, honest, and decent. All were qualities her dear papa had liked and respected about him. Despite her oddities, he was so kind to her, so warm, courteous, and gentle. A better suitor couldn’t be asked for. So no surprise they courted and finally Thomas asked her to marry him, which Ellen was quick to accept.

With her acceptance, she thought that was the end of it. The Demon was gone, she was happy, and had all she wanted. Ellen didn’t need wealth or a nice house or material things. She just wanted a peaceful, happy life with her sweetheart. That was all.

But of course, the dead can never stay dead for long…

Furie whined softly next to her on the bed, his ears flattened as if sensing her emotions. For a hound literally named Rage, he seemed to have very little of it. The wolfhound had literally stayed by her side for the past two days, keeping watch over her for his master. The Beast hadn’t come back, just as Ellen commanded, and it made her wonder: Was he bound still by her power? Did she still hold some sort of sway over him, even in death?

Ellen had tried to be kind in a sense. She had to kill him, there was no doubt in her mind about that. He needed to die. But she had tried to be kind as it happened, for the sake of what they once were to each other. That was only fair wasn’t it? Ellen had tried to give him one last kiss, one last small gesture of love before they were both gone. It was only meant to be kind, as a way to let go of what once was.

She gently pet Furie. “It’s okay. I’m alright. I promise. I just…have a lot on my mind”.

The wolfhound looked at her, his ears perked as if he were listening intently. Ellen chuckled, her first laugh since her death.

“I don’t know if you’d be able to understand. But…I don’t really have anyone else to talk to I suppose-”.

Furie whined, as if attempting to remind her there was someone she could talk to. Ellen shook her head.

“Trust me, I would rather much talk to you more than him. At least you don’t try to tell me I did the right thing for the wrong reason” Ellen paused, “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. I know what the covenant said but I thought with death it would be done. I could be free. But I’m not and I don’t know why”.

She knew why. It said Ever Eternally…but she didn’t understand why that meant even after death. Ellen got up and looked out the window, peering out the expansive, glistening surroundings. For a second she thought she heard a voice, a soft collective of voices, on the wind calling her name somewhere in the distance. It sounded like the whispers of every person she ever knew: Thomas, Papa, Freidrich and Anna and their children, even the Demon’s voice could be heard among them. Ellen felt her mind go blank a moment, her eyes going a strange milky white color as though she had died again. Furie rose from the bed and growled, followed by a sharp bark, pulling Ellen back to herself.

She took a deep breath and blinked several times to recollect herself. Ellen turned to the dog, calming herself a little as he came to her side and whined, nuzzling her hand. She pet him, breathing deeply as her mind and spirit settled back into her body. What in the world was that, that strange call?

Ellen kept a hand on Furie’s head. “Good boy. Thank you…thank you so much. I think I might’ve been in a little bit of trouble had I somehow answered that”.

Furie whined, wagging his tail at her praise. He had sensed something was amiss and had been quick to pull his mistress back from what he thought was something that could and would seriously harm her. He was entrusted with her safety after all, and the wolfhound clearly took that job to heart.

“It’s always snowing here” Ellen looked outside again thoughtfully, “How about we go outside and do something fun?”

The wolfhound cocked his head curiously and Ellen smiled as she got up to change. She wasn’t sure if she really needed to dress warmly in this world, but she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The wardrobe was shockingly full of clothes she remembered wearing in the other world…and there were others in there she had never seen. Older dresses, some furs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages. These weren’t hers. But yet, somehow, they felt familiar. The texture, the smell hiding beneath years of unuse…she knew these older articles of clothing somewhere. Again, it was like a memory from a dream she had a long time ago…

“Let go” she heard a voice sound in her head, one that was eerily similar to her own, but not quite hers, “Please…you have to let go…for me…”

In her mind’s eye, Ellen could see the image of a woman with a face like hers, but her hair was a shining copper color, and her eyes a deep blue tinged with green. She looked pale, deathly so, laying in bed looking at her dead in the eye. Her pale blue-purple lips trembled as she reached a quivering hand out to her.

“Please…love…I’m afraid…”

Ellen dropped the fur coat immediately, frightened by the dream. It was like looking at her own pale, dying face in a mirror. Only the reflection had spoken to her. She set the coat back in the wardrobe and grabbed one of her own warmer outfits for her outside activities, which Ellen wasn’t even sure if she wanted to do anymore.

No, no, she did want to. She needed to get out of this castle, out of this room, even for a short while. Even if it was to do something silly and childish with a large wolfhound at her side. Ellen redressed herself and motioned for Furie to follow her, something akin to excitement blooming in her chest. She hadn’t done this particular activity since she was little and she always loved doing it.

She made her way outside, surprisingly avoiding the Demon. Ellen glanced around, rendered breathless by the glistening snow around her. It was as though the grounds of the castle were being purified under a blanket of white. Ellen stepped out, the soft snow giving out a satisfying crunch under her booted feet. Furie followed behind her, his tail wagging in excitement. He liked being outside, but liked it even more with her it seemed.

Ellen found a nice, clear spot to begin her work. She made a ball, small enough to fit in her gloved hand and slowly started to roll it around to increase its size. Her troubles seemed far away as she worked, her mind drifting to happier times. Furie moved the ball too with his head and Ellen laughed.

“Trying to help me now?” She asked and gave him a pet, “such a good, sweet boy. I don't get why he called you Furie. You're anything but” Ellen stopped in her work to give the wolfhound pets along his chin and chest. All the while his tail kept wagging in delight.

“You are the sweetest thing I swear” she put her nose to his and giggled, feeling very much like a little girl again.

Ellen turned back to her task, and Furie joined her in pushing the ball around. Little did they know, the third hound, Durere, had spotted them outside and ran back in to tell his sister and master about it.

He let out several barks to Orlok, as if trying to articulate what he saw. The vampire glared.

“She's outside?” He got up and glanced out a nearby window.

Lo and behold, there was his Little Soul, rolling a large ball of snow around with Furie, before finally settling it somewhere. What in the world was she doing out there? Chaos still called for her, and she was still susceptible to its call. It wasn't safe to be out there alone. Orlok turned from the window, grabbing his enormous coat to go out and keep an eye on her…

“I think we can start on the body now, hm Furie?” Ellen asked, to which the wolfhound barked and wagged his tail.

She turned to start a new ball, this one to be slightly smaller than the other, when Ellen felt her blood run cold. An all too familiar shadow fell over her, and she knew it was the Beast. She sighed and stopped rolling the ball as Furie barked a greeting to his master. Ellen stood, facing him fully for the first time since they found themselves here to see him petting all three wolfhounds.

“You’ve named him poorly” she dared to say, “There’s not an ounce of rage in him”.

“Because you haven’t seen him angry…yet” Orlok replied, looking over at the large ball of snow, “What is it you’re doing, Micul Suflet?”.

Ellen stifled the urge to glare at the nickname. “I would appreciate it if you used my name…And what does it look like I’m doing? I’m making a…a snowman”.

He raised a brow. “A what?”

“A snowman. Have you never…” she stopped when he just looked contemplative, as if the concept of such a winter activity was foreign to him, “You’ve never made one before, have you?”

“Such things were considered a waste of time back in my youth. I spent the winters studying, learning and preparing for my role” He told her, almost avoiding her eyes.

“You never even got to do such things? Just…do childish things like this?”.

Ellen didn’t need an answer. His silence and avoidance were more than enough of an answer. Honestly it hurt something in her to know that. Maybe that was a part of the problem, why he turned out like this. Ellen took a single step toward him, a hand reaching for his.

“Come…join me. Help me with this” she requested, “Please?”

He pulled his long clawed hand away from her, shaking his head. “It’s a childish waste of-”.

“Stop. Right now. Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. It’s okay. We can do things like this. No one’s here to stop us or judge us or anything. Who cares if it’s childish? A time spent in merriment isn’t wasted time, even if time was still relevant to us” Ellen looked in his eyes, “A passionate hour is never a wasted one. Help me with this…Just once”.

Orlok narrowed his eyes at her and then the huge ball of snow. He sighed in annoyance and shook his head.

“Fine…Once, and that’s it” he conceded.

“Once is all I ask” she smiled coyly, like a cat who had just caught her prey. Her first genuine smile since they appeared here.

But even that was enough to make something in his chest feel awfully warm…

If you guys enjoyed this please feel free to like, reblog, and comment! If you wanna read more of my work, feel free to follow! Thank you all so much for reading and I'll see you in the next one ^^ <3

#fanfiction #writing #ellen x orlok #lilac fang #exile: a nosferatu fanfic #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024

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sequinsmile-x · 12 hours ago

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The Way to the Words

Emily struggles to tell Aaron she loves him. At least, she struggles to tell him in English.

AKA - 5 times Emily tells Aaron she loves him in another language, and 1 time she says it in English.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is an idea I've been playing around with for a while, but was spurred on to write it after I got an anon about Emily and all of the languages she speaks.

This is soft (because we all deserve softness right now) and hopefully funny in parts! These idiots love each other a whole lot.

Also, just a note that I don't speak any of the other languages in this. Where possible, I have run the line past someone I know who speaks it, or I have run it back and forth through several online translators to make sure it's as correct as I can make it, and read articles on word positioning/how it should be written.

(Second also: I know Arabic is meant to go from right to left, but Tumblr won't let me format it like that, but it is correct on Ao3)

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: the tiniest, smallest, bit of spice possible. Blink and you miss it kind of stuff. (Rated T)

Words: 6.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

One

Technically, she’s the one to say it first. It’s something she tells him years down the line when they talk about the early days of them, her smile soft and sleepy as their baby rests on her chest as she insists that she’d whispered those three little words weeks before he had.

She just so happened to say them in a language he didn’t understand.

The first time, she doesn’t plan it.

They walk back to her apartment after their first date, their hands tangled together as they swing them back and forth ever so slightly. She was anxious. Shy in a way she hadn’t been in years, and she knows it’s everything to do with him and how he makes her feel. It’s something about his smile and the way he looked at her that would make her feel giddy. It would feel ridiculous if it was anyone else. If it wasn’t Aaron, the man she’d been in love with for longer than she could admit even to herself, she’d tell herself to get it together, would remind herself she wasn’t a lovesick teenager but a grown woman.

With him, it didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t care that she’d spent hours picking something to wear, or that she’d curled her hair twice. She wanted to make the effort, to take her time for what she knew would be her first last date. A small part of her had worried at first that things would be awkward, but it had been like their dinners usually were, only with hand holding across the table and the occasional kiss exchanged between anecdotes. She wanted to know everything about him, everything big and small, and she wanted him to know everything about her too. Wanted him to help her break through the walls she didn’t know how to tear down herself, wanted to hand him the tools she’d never shared with anyone else.

Her shoulder knocks against his as she digs her keys out of her bag, and he smiles at her, his hand slipping to her hip as she unlocks the door. She looks up at him, sees the uncertainty in his eyes, and leans up to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his.

“Do you want to come in?” She asks, smiling when his eyes go a little wide, his own anxiety about what to do and how to act obvious. He’d told her it had been a long time since he’d been out on a date, that he was unsure how to act and what to do, and she’d kissed him, barely pulling back to tell him that she was out of practice too and that she didn’t expect any more than just him. He had arrived to pick her up with flowers nonetheless, a bunch of sunflowers squished between them when she kissed him as he explained he’d picked flowers that wouldn’t poison Sergio. She places her hand over his on her hip and squeezes, “For a drink,” she smiles and winks at him, “And maybe some more kissing.”

He laughs and nods, “Of course, I’ll come in Em.”

She leads him inside and locks the door behind them, secretly hoping she won’t unlock it again tonight, that he’ll stay in whatever capacity he’s comfortable with and that she’ll wake up next to him in the morning.

“Wine?” She asks, as she walks towards her kitchen, “Or I have a very nice scotch that Dave bought me along with a cast iron skillet as a moving in present.”

Aaron had been her first visitor to her apartment upon her return from Paris, and Dave had been her second. It wasn’t the best place she’d ever lived, but also not the worst. It was good enough for what she needed for now, and the best she could do for a person whose credit score had reset when she’d ‘died,’ and who had only just gained access back to her trust fund. For a few months, whilst legalities were unravelled and everything that had been put in place in the wake of her death was reversed, she’d lived like most people did - on her salary.

Aaron chuckles as he follows closely behind her, his hands in his pockets as he looks her up and down and makes no secret of it, “He got me the same thing when I moved out of the house and into my apartment,” he says, leaning his hip against the kitchen island, “He said no home is complete without one.”

“He said the same to me,” She laughs, “I wonder if he just has a closet full of the things for when someone he knows moves.” She lifts up the bottle of scotch, “So scotch?”

“Yes please.”

She pours them both a generous measure and hands him one of the glasses, her fingers skipping across his as he takes it from her, “Let’s go sit down.”

She sinks against him on the couch, giving him no chance to overthink their closeness or what she’d want. She pulls a nearby throw over their laps and rests her head on his shoulder, the mix of the smell of him and the scotch enough to relax her, a contented sigh escaping her before she could even try to contain it. He wraps his arm around her, his hand against the bare skin of her arm so he can trace patterns against her, chasing a shiver he causes with the callouses on his fingertips.

“You okay?” He asks, and she hums as she nods, tilting her head upwards so she can kiss him, the hand not wrapped around her glass on his cheek so she can hold him in place.

“I’m fine. More than fine,” she says, kissing him again, “Thank you for a lovely date.”

He smiles and holds her closer, “You’re welcome,” he clears his throat, the anxiety he’d felt earlier making a speedy return, “We should do it again soon. If you want.”

“Of course I want to,” she replies, as if it’s obvious - because to her it is - but her smile slips when she sees relief in his eyes and she frowns as she takes his glass of scotch from him and places in on the coffee table with hers, “Aaron, why wouldn’t I want to go on another date with you?”

He shrugs as she turns to look at him properly, her knees pressing against his thigh as she uses the hand on his cheek to make him look at her. He sighs and his hand falls to her knee, his thumb catching the hem of her dress as he runs it back and forth.

“I don’t know,” he breathes out, “I guess I’m waiting for you to realise you could do better than me.”

That’s what does it in the end, what makes the admission she’d been holding back all night escape without warning. Her concern that it’s too soon kicks in too late to say nothing, so she falls back on an old trick from when she was young and wanted to curse at her parents without them knowing.

She speaks in another language.

“Я люблю тебя.”

He furrows his brows together and fights a smile. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, the use of the nickname making her breath catch in her throat, “I don’t speak…I want to say Russian?”

She chokes on a laugh and nods, “Yeah, that…was Russian,” she presses her lips together, “Sorry, I said ‘nothing’s better than you.’”

If he knows she’s lying, he doesn’t say anything. He nods as he accepts her answer and he leans in to kiss her, his lips stamped against hers before he pulls back.

“Nothing is better than you either.”

He stays the night, and when she wakes up with his arms wrapped around her she wishes she’d been brave enough to say it in a way he understood.

___

Two

She grumbles as she sinks onto the couch, curling in on herself as a cramp rolls through her belly. She’s about to talk herself into getting up to take painkillers, her medicine cabinet never having felt further away, when there’s a knock on the door followed by the sound of the key in the lock.

“Sweetheart?”

She groans as she sits up, looking at her boyfriend over the back of her couch, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” he quips as he steps into her apartment, holding up a bag from CVS, “I brought you some supplies. I can leave afterwards if you want.”

She hums and watches as he locks the front door behind him, “Where’s Jack?”

“By the time I left the office he’d already eaten with Jess, and when I told him you weren’t feeling very well he told me to come look after you.”

She smiles as he sits next to her, “I really am fine,” she says, taking the bag as he hands it to her, her eyes going wide when she sees the bag full of her favourite candy, painkillers and a couple of boxes of tampons. She looks up at him, embarrassed in a way she doesn’t entirely understand, “How did you know? I only told you that my stomach hurt.”

He smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “I lived with Haley most of my adult life. And I am a grown-up. I know what a period is, Em.”

It makes her ache. Makes her feel stupid for even trying to hide this from him in the first place, her jaw tight and her temper wearing thin when she’d almost yelled at him when he asked if she was okay for the dozenth time that day. She’d left the office the moment she could and told him she’d call him later, forcing a smile as familiar cramps she’d felt for most of her life rolled through her. If she was honest with herself, she’d wanted to bask in his comfort. To lean against him as he laid his giant, warm, hand on her stomach like he was her own personal heating pad, but she didn’t how to ask. She should have known that she didn’t need to ask. He’d always been better at figuring out what she needed before she did anyway.

She nods and presses her lips together, “You even got the right brand.”

He shrugs, “I only bought the ones you have in your bathroom.”

She laughs, “I once asked a boyfriend to buy me tampons and he looked at me like I’d asked him to murder someone for me.”

“Well, it sounds like he didn’t deserve you.”

She looks up at him, her lips pressed tightly together, and she reaches out for his hand, “Thanks honey, this is…really sweet.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says and he leans in to kiss her cheek but she turns her head to capture his lips instead. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he kisses her again, lingering a little longer this time, and she sighs into it, “I can go home if you’d rather be alone.”

She’s shaking her head before she can even really think about it, “No,” she replies, “I want you to stay.”

He kisses her before he pulls back, “I’ll make us some hot chocolate, and bring you some water so you can take your painkillers. And then we’ll watch whatever sci-fi nonsense you want to watch.”

She scoffs in fake annoyance, “It’s not nonsense,” she grumbles, narrowring her eyes at him playfully, “And I’ll have you know I was thinking of watching Die Hard.”

He furrows his brow as he turns to look at her, “That’s a Christmas movie.”

She groans and flops back onto the couch, tearing a pack of the candy he’d brought her open, “Don’t tell me I’m dating a guy who thinks Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”

He raises his eyebrow at her from her kitchen counter, the tin of hot chocolate mix in his hands, “It’s set at Christmas.”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie, honey. There’s no small town girl visiting home from the big city for the holidays,” she says, unable to fight her smile when he smiles widely at her, the warmth of it settling over her like a comforting blanket from across the room, “And there’s no Santa Claus, and Kate Winslet doesn’t swap houses with Cameron Diaz,” she pops some candy into her mouth, “It’s not a Christmas movie.”

“You’ve given this some thought,” he replies, smiling fondly at her, his eyes sparkling like she’d hung the stars themselves, “I guess we can watch it. Even if it is set at Christmas.”

She throws a piece of candy at him, her fake irritation dying when he picks it up from the counter and eats it, the way he waggles his eyebrows drawing a laugh out of her.

She rests her head in his lap when he joins her on the couch, her back to him as they watch the movie and he switches between playing with her hair and placing his hand on her belly unprompted, once again anticipating her needs. It was strange feeling loved like this, because she knew that’s what this was even if they hadn’t admitted it to each other yet. She’d never been cared for and enjoyed it or felt as if the other person wasn’t doing it out of obligation.

She finds herself stuck again between wanting to say it and not being able to push past her fear. Instead, she reaches for his hand and links their fingers together, dragging them to her lips so she can kiss his knuckles as she mumbles against them, whispering so he doesn’t hear the Arabic she presses against his skin.

"أحبك"

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head and turns back to look at him, “Nothing. Just…thank you for looking after me.”

He stops himself from repeating what he’d said earlier and he nods, pushing her hair from her face, “Anytime.”

___

Three

She’s bored of feeling like an exhibit at the zoo.

Ever since she and Aaron had told the team about their relationship they’d been watching them closely, their attempts at hiding their fascination with their relationship almost non-existent. At work, it was bad enough, but here, in Dave’s house, as they had dinner together, it annoyed her. Every time they touched each other, or showed each other the tiniest bit of affection, the team would smile and nudge each other.

She eventually excuses herself from the living room to the kitchen to get another glass of wine, needing a moment without being stared at so she doesn’t snap at some of the people she loves most in the world.

She sighs and takes a large gulp of wine, closing her eyes as she swallows it, desperately trying to calm herself down, to soothe her fraying nerves.

“Are you okay sweetheart?”

She turns and smiles when she hears Aaron’s voice and she blows out a breath, “I just needed a minute.”

He nods and points over his shoulder back towards the living room, “Do you want me to go?”

She loves him for it. Loves how well he knows her and how well he loves her, and she shakes her head and offers him a hand, “Never.”

He walks over and wraps his arms around her, “They mean well. They just have to get used to it.”

She hums and loops her arms around his neck, “I know. I just wish they’d get used to it faster,” she huffs, “I hate feeling like a zoo animal.”

“I know,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, “Me too.” He says, and she leans in to kiss him, pulling him closer as she sighs into it. When she pulls back, he stamps another kiss against her lips, “That’s a nice wine.”

She chuckles, running her fingers through the short hair at the base of his head, “Barolo del Comune di La Morra,” she says, nodding towards the bottle on the kitchen island, “It’s Italian. Very nice wine. Not that you’d expect anything less from Dave.”

“Say that again,” he says, his smile wide and bright, his eyes sparkling with as close to mischief as they ever did, “The name of the wine.”

She presses her lips together and leans in to kiss him again, punctuating each word with a kiss, “Barolo…del…Comune…di…La…Morra.”

He barely hides a moan as she pulls back, just about able to remember where they were as he squeezes her hips, “You’re so beautiful,” he says, “Say something else.”

She giggles, something only he was able to draw out of her, “In Italian?” She asks, and he nods. It feels like an invitation to carry on doing what she’d unintentionally started, and she leans in to kiss him, only pulling back far enough to speak, “Penso che tu sia l'amore della mia vita.”

He smiles, even though he doesn’t understand, “What does that mean?”

“I love the wine,” she says, hating that she can’t tell him the truth, that she can’t push past the fear she isn’t entirely sure she understands, “And you’re handsome.”

He leans in to kiss her again, but they are stopped by someone clearing their throat in the doorway. Emily feels her cheeks go warm when she looks up to see Dave standing there, the look on his face letting her know just how much he’d heard.

“Well, this is adorable.”

She feels Aaron’s grip on her tighten and she lets her arms slip down from around his neck and she squeezes his hand.

“Why don’t you go back through, honey?” She suggests, squeezing his hand again, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He almost questions it, she can see the argument he has with himself over it, but he nods instead, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he steps away, his hands in his pockets and his smile tight as he walks past Dave. She waits until he is out of earshot and she crosses her arms over her chest, “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re playing a dangerous game,” Dave replies as he walks closer to her, “So…you love him?”

“I…” she trails off, the words caught in her chest and she groans, tightening her arms over her chest.

“Relax, bella. Even Reid only has to look at you to know you two love each other,” he says, smirking when she glares at him, “So why didn’t you tell him the truth? Worried he doesn’t feel the same way? Because I think it would be less of a waste of time to wonder if the Pope is Catholic.”

She sighs and shakes her head, “No, it’s not that. I know he feels the same way. It’s just…” She blows out a shaky breath and laughs at herself, “I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never loved someone this much. It’s like my happiness depends on his, and it’s fucking terrifying.”

He stares at her for a moment, his smirk disappearing as he nods in understanding, “I know it is,” he replies, patting her shoulder, “But you’ll get there. Take it from an old man who’s been around the block a few times. What you two have is rare,” he smiles at her, “I’m actually annoyed at myself for not seeing it sooner.”

She smiles, “What, me and Aaron?”

He nods, “I should have put money on you two years ago. You’ll get there, Emily. And he won’t mind if it takes a while. Because he loves you too.”

She presses her lips together and nods, because she knows he’s right, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” he says, winking at her, “Just make sure Aaron makes me best man when you get married.”

She rolls her eyes and fights off the desire to tell him to shut up, or deny that it was where this was all going, “I think that’s his choice, don’t you?”

“Okay,” he says, shrugging at her, “Godfather of your firstborn then.”

She scoffs, the sound turning into a laugh when it’s halfway out, and she can’t stop herself this time, “Oh shut up, Dave.”

The thought of it makes her giddy, makes her stomach flip in a pleasant way, and she can’t shift her smile for the rest of the evening.

___

Four

Emily sighs contentedly as she flips the page of her book, snuggling further into the comfort of Aaron’s bed, the scent of him lingering on the sheets.

The bedside table on her side of his bed was starting to look like hers. It’s where she kept the book she was reading and her favourite hand cream and other trinkets that had somehow ended up at his place. A necklace she’d taken off after work one day and left there. Her father’s watch. It was already starting to feel like home. But she had a feeling that had more to do with the little boy asleep down the hall and the man whose bed she was in, not the apartment itself.

She was starting to spend more of her nights here than she wasn’t. She’d go home to feed Sergio, to scratch his head and sit with him for a while, and then she’d go to Aaron’s, let herself in with the key he’d given her weeks ago, and spend the night. He kept telling her to bring Sergio over with her, that he’d happily get a litter tray, food and whatever he needed, and it made her love him more. She was slightly resistant, not only because Sergio didn’t seem to like him that much, but because it felt like a huge step forward. An admittance that she couldn’t bring herself to say yet no matter how much she wanted to.

The bedroom door opens and she looks up, her smile wide as she puts her book down, “Is Jack okay?”

Aaron nods as he climbs into bed next to her, “He’s asleep,” he says, smiling as he pulls the covers over his lap and tugs her close, “He said he wants you to do bedtime next time.”

She bites her lower lip, desperately trying to hold in a smile, her love for the two of them threatening to burst out of her, “Really?”

“Really,” he says, kissing her forehead, “I’m not the only Hotchner in love with you.” She freezes, her shoulders tight as the admission washes over her, a choking sound of sorts escaping her. It seems to alert Aaron to what he’d said, and his eyes go wide. He swallows thickly and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I…mean it Em. I might not have meant to blurt it out that way,” he says, smiling when she does too, “But I mean it. I love you.”

Her silence is loud, echoing around them before it weighs heavily on them, settling on their shoulders as she tries and fails to say anything, “I…”

She feels like a failure. Like a coward, because what was so wrong with her that she couldn’t tell the man she was in love with that she loved him. She curses every bad relationship she’d ever had, she curses her parents, and everyone who ever made it hard for her to accept love and affection, because Aaron deserved someone who could give that to him without thought.

He deserved so much more than she could give him right now, and it made her ache.

“Em,” he says, his smile too kind, “I’m not expecting you to say anything back,” he adds, pulling her closer, “I didn’t even mean to say it myself yet,” he stamps his lips against hers, “It’s okay.” It doesn’t feel okay. It feels ridiculous and she surges forward, her hands on his cheeks as she holds him in place, deepening the kiss so she can show him how she feels even if she can’t say it yet. She shifts so she’s in his lap, rolling her hips against his as she wraps her arms around his neck. He tenses, his hands firm on her hip as he tries to pull back “Sweetheart-”

She can see the doubt in his eyes, not in her, but in what she was trying to do, “Aaron,” she kisses him again, knocking her nose against his as she rests their foreheads together, “Please.”

He looks at her carefully, tries to see the tiniest piece of uncertainty in her eyes, and he nods when he doesn’t find it, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers before he kisses her again. They undress each other slowly, and he rolls them so she’s under him, trapped between the warmth of his body and the sheets beneath her. It’s soft. Tender in a way she hadn’t known existed before him, something that she thinks would make her feel exposed with anyone else, and she links her fingers through his afterwards, lifting their hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles as she smiles at him, hoping he knows what she can’t put into words he understands yet.

He falls asleep before her. It’s rare. Usually, she fell asleep first and woke up last, comforted by his arms and the safety that seemed to come with them. She lays there in the dark next to him, his arm heavy and warm over her waist, his breath even as it skips across the back of her neck, and she berates herself for not being able to give him what he needed, what she so desperately wanted to give him.

Eventually, she turns in his arms, looks at him in the dark, his features just about visible now her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. He looked younger like this, boyish almost, and it makes her love him more. She reaches out and strokes his cheek, smiling when he twitches but doesn’t wake up, his head moving in the direction of her hand, chasing her and her presence even in sleep.

“Aaron,” she whispers, waiting to see if he’s awake, if his breathing changes, and when it doesn't she sighs, “Te quiero. Siento no poder decirlo todavía. Pero te quiero.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek and lingers there for a moment before she lays back against his chest, snuggles into him as deeply as she can and she closes her eyes, hoping she’ll fall asleep.

When she wakes up in the morning, he’s already awake and smiling at her, and it somehow makes her feel worse.

___

Five

“I can’t do it.”

Aaron tries to hide his smile, she’ll give him that. He tries to swallow it down but fails as he turns to look at her and raises his eyebrow at her. She glares at him from her side of the couch and kisses the top of Sergio’s head twice in quick succession, scratching under his chin as she does so.

“I’ve seen you stare a serial killer in the eyes and not blink,” he clears his throat to hide a laugh, “But you can’t give your cat medication?”

She huffs out a breath and holds Sergio closer as she pouts in a way she’d deny if Aaron brought it up. Sergio had an ear infection, and whilst he’d been strangely okay with her cleaning his ears, he was resistant to medication. He’d eaten around it when she’d tried to hide it in his food, had ignored treats she’d tried to stuff it inside. He was refusing to take it, and that meant she had to make him take it.

“I don’t want him to hate me,” she says, tearing her gaze away from Sergio to look up at Aaron, “Or for him to be afraid of me.”

She watches as Aaron nods, once again stifling a smile, and she wonders if he’s going to tell her she’s as being as ridiculous as she feels. Instead, he sighs and offers his hands out, “I’ll do it.”

She tilts her head at him in confusion, “What?”

“He already hates me,” Aaron says, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

“He doesn’t hate you-”

“He does, sweetheart,” he replies, his smile getting wider, “But if I do it, it’s not like he can hate me anymore, and his love for you will remain intact.”

She knows it’s irrational, but she almost wants to be mad at him for the way he makes her love him even more. He was willing to do this for her, willing to accept her, admittedly silly, concerns about her cat hating her, and do what she couldn’t bring herself to do. For a moment, she pictures him holding a baby that was half her and half him whilst they took them to get their shots so she didn’t have to, and then passing the baby back over as soon as the deed was done so she could be their source of comfort. She has to shake her head to get rid of the image, to remember the soft weight in her arms was Sergio and not a small baby, and she sighs and nods as she passes him over. Sergio meows in displeasure, wiggling as he proves Aaron’s point as he tries to get a hold of him.

“Do you have the medication?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at her as she actively ignores his poorly hidden smirk as Sergio pushes his paw against Aaron’s face. She nods and hands him one of the pills and he takes it from her. He’s gentle as he grasps Sergio’s head and tilts it backwards until his nose is pointing upwards and his jaw opens slightly. Aaron drops the pill into his mouth and then lowers his head back down, holding his mouth closed until he visibly swallows, “There we go,” Aaron says, smiling at her as he lets go of Sergio, who immediately walks over to Emily’s side of the couch and climbs in her lap, meowing all the way, “And look at that, he still loves you.”

She smiles at him, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, and she snuggles Sergio against her chest, making sure she’s giving him plenty of head scratches as she does so, “Tell me all about it, baby. What did the mean man do to you?”

Aaron chuckles and leans in to kiss her temple, “If he didn’t hate me already, he will by the time his course of antibiotics is done with.”

She hums and turns her head, capturing his lips with hers, “Thank you. I know it’s silly-”

“You’ve never been silly a day in your life,” he says, kissing her again, “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes please, honey,” She nods and presses her lips together, the words getting the closest to escaping as they ever had, the way he looked after her in ways she never could have pictured almost tipping her over the edge, whatever had been holding her back getting weaker by the day, “There’s some red wine on the counter.”

“Coming right up,” he says, winking at her before he stands. It makes Sergio hiss at him, and Aaron throws her a look that could only say I told you so as he walks away.

“You have to be nice to Aaron, you know,” she says, talking to Sergio as she scratches between his ears, “He’s not going anywhere,” she sighs, “Je l’aime aussi. Je ne peux juste pas le dire.”

“Did you say something, sweetheart?” Aaron asks as he walks back into the room. She shakes her head when she looks up at him, smiling when she sees the two glasses and the bottle of wine in his hands, and the pack of her favourite candy dangling off his finger.

She wanted to say it to him, but after everything, after not being able to say it back when he’d said it to her a couple of weeks ago, she wanted it to mean something.

“No,” she replies as he sits next to her, “I was just talking to Sergio.”

He nods in understanding and puts the wine and her candy down on the coffee table, “Speaking of Sergio,” he says, opening up his palm to reveal a treat in his hand, “I thought he deserved this for being so brave.” He offers his hand out to Sergio who looks at him suspiciously for a few moments before he happily eats the treat out of his hand and starts purring. Aaron laughs and takes the opportunity to scratch between Sergio’s ears, which the cat leans into, “Maybe he’ll love me after all.”

“Yeah,” she replies, biting the inside of her cheek to contain her smile, “He’d be a fool not to.”

___

+ One

“Anyone want to go for a drink?”

Emily drops her pen down on her desk and turns to face the others, “I’m up for it.”

“Of course you are, princess,” Derek says, smirking when she glares at him, “Do you think you could convince Hotch?”

She smiles, “I could convince him of anything.”

Derek groans, “God, I don’t want to know that.”

She laughs as she stands up and she winks at him, “You asked. You okay to gather everyone else?”

He nods and she walks up to Aaron’s office. She takes a moment to watch him through the window. He has his head down, his focus on the paperwork in front of him, and he looks every part of the stern, focused man she’d first met. He looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers, and then he smiles at her, a flash of her Aaron peeking out from beneath Hotch in the very room she’d met him in. He gives her a small nod and she walks in, making sure she closes the door behind her.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

She nods and walks over to his desk, keeping a respectable distance because she knows the others will be watching, “I’m okay. Derek is organising everyone to go out for drinks. I’ve been sent to rally you.”

He chuckles, “They already know I can’t say no to you.”

“Honey, we all know that,” she replies, “So is that a yes?”

Aaron smiles, “I’d love to, but I have budgets to do, unfortunately, they’re important,” he says, his smile getting wider when she looks disappointed, “I could meet you later though.”

“Yeah?” She asks, sinking her teeth into her lower lip, and he nods, “Okay, so we’ll meet you there?”

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, her smile, and winks at her, “See you later.”

She smiles and turns to the door, reaching out for the handle as she replies, “See you later. Love you.”

It takes her a moment to realise what she’s said, and she freezes, her breath caught in her chest as the words float in the air around them, as light as a feather in comparison to the heavy weight it had been on her shoulders for weeks now. She almost laughs, the absurdity at the easy, simple way she said it after she’d overthought it for so long not lost on her. The admission as simple as it was beautiful, as if they’d exchanged it as often as they had kissed, as if it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. Like it was something she’d said countless times before. She smiles to herself as she turns around because, in some ways, she has said it before.

This was just the first time he’d understood her.

She smiles nervously at him when their eyes meet, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “That…that wasn’t how I intended on saying that for the first time.”

He stares at her for a moment like she’s a skittish animal, like she might bolt if he made even the slightest of movements. He’d been careful to not tell her again since that first time a couple of weeks ago, like he was scared he’d push her away. He’d get part way through and then stop himself, smiling at her in a way that could only mean you know how I feel. It had hurt more than she thought it would, something that made her feel hypocritical because she hadn’t said it at all.

She’s mad at herself for letting it slip like this because she’d wanted it to be special. But then he smiles at her in a room he’d once scowled at her in on that first day they’d met, and she doesn’t think it could have been any more perfect if she’d planned it. It was like their love story had permeated the walls. Like it was carved into them in a way someone would find in years to come when they were gone. When they’d moved on to somewhere new, their future still laid out in front of them as they stood by each other’s side.

“No, don’t apologise. Never apologise for this,” he says, finally snapping into action, his pen hitting his desk with a thunk as he stands up. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to pull her into a hug or kiss, but then he remembers where they are, his eyes darting to the window of his office and the team all in the bullpen. He stops right in front of her and grabs her hand, their linked fingers out of view from everyone else, “I love you.”

She presses her lips together and nods, every reason she had for being too afraid to tell him gone as if they’d never existed, “I love you too. I have for a long time. I hope you know it was never because I didn’t love you. I just…”

“I know,” he replies, squeezing her hand, “And I would have waited forever.”

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, “Forever? That would have been awkward at our wedding one day.”

He laughs too and runs his thumb back and forth over her pulse point, “We would have made it work.”

She wants nothing more than to kiss him, but she knows she can’t, not here anyway, and she blows out a breath, “I really wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Me too,” he says, looking at her like she was the only thing in existence, like the world could burn around them and he wouldn’t notice because he was looking at her, “Later.”

“Later,” she repeats, “I don’t want to go for drinks with the team anymore. I just want to go home with you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for us, sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her hand again, their palms practically fused together, as if they were merging into one, one soul that had been split into two for all eternity until now, “Let’s go spend some time with our friends.

“Plenty of time?” She repeats in a question, as if she didn’t already know he was it, that they were it, and he was the answer to the question she’d never known to ask.

“Forever,” he confirms, and she swallows thickly, her heart almost beating out of her chest as she nods in response.

“Forever.”

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic

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icadump · 2 days ago

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Seer Damian wayne

Damian wayne is cursed by magic from his mother's bloodline, cursing him with the ability to see the past, present, and future. The only problem is that nobody in the league of assassin's see it and thinks he's just some weird kid with a disorder and love for animals, insects and quiet places. Something his mother and grandfather despise, sending him to his father at the age of 10.

Okay so, this is inspired by heleana targaryen from house of the dragons, somehow I just feel for her and I want to see a prompt or fic of Damian just being this quiet, peaceful and autistic kid that just wants to spend time with his pets and nothing else, i also wanna headcannon an albino! Damian to give him that white hair and violet eyes. Someone please write a fic or prompt or just reblog my post I'm begging you

Damian wayne was released from his pod quietly, we're it not for the monitor observing his heartbeat Talia would've thought he was dead. He was a quiet kid that rarely spoke, his first word being 'dog', not the 'mama' or other words the league expected of him. Nonetheless he excelled in everything Talia arranged for him to learn, something Ra's expected due to Batman's genes.

What wasn't expected was for damian to be an albino due to genes that they weren't sure where it came from, nonetheless, he looked like an ethereal god to the point he wasn't allowed to go into the city near nanda parbat due to it's citizens worshipping Damian, his temperature didn't help either as he rarely spoke and when he did, the people hung on his every word.

Talia was worried for him back then, her son did not want to kill, and even when he did so he always hesitated. His talent, appearance, and brain were the only thing that saved him for being executed by Ra's, though his exotic appearance garnered him several looks from many of ra's business partners. More so when it only worsened when Damian aged.

Talia knew it was time to take her son to his father when even her father looked at Damian in that cold, calculating way that told her he was planning something that involved her son's purity, though she loathe to admit that his innocence he retained throughout his childhood only made him more endearing in her eyes.

She planned and waited for the right time, when Ra's was away on business and ordered her assassin's to guard and protect them while she and her son escaped. Quickly entering damian's bedroom flanked by her loyal assassin's to wake him up, she was shocked to see he was awake and his belongings were already packed.

Damian stood and grabbed his pet, a huge Arabian leopard gifted by Talia to him when he was a child, and let the other assassin's grab his other luggage including the cage of his black scorpion and eastern imperial eagle, something Ra's apparently bred specifically for him (Talia was sure her father had ulterior motives in doing so and knew now what it was when she saw his eyes leering at his own grandson). Hurrying to leave the compound and board the plane, they left at the fastest speed the plane could fly at.

Damian watched them all with dazed eyes as he subconsciously pet his leopard. Looking confused at his mother, this was the first time he'd seen Talia look frazzled and almost nervous although he expected it, he was still feeling somewhat confused and sad at leaving his home. But damian knew he'd find family with his father and even love, his mind drifted off to a kryptonian he remembered seeing in his dreams, sitting with him and doing something else he couldn't see.

#damian wayne #batfam #jondami #dcu #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #seer damian wayne

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katethetank · 3 days ago

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The Dungeon - Chapter 17

Rating: 18+, minors gtfo Chapter Summary: Eddie joins Steve and Robin for brunch, they go thrifting, Robin meets Chrissy via FaceTime (is Buckingham happening?!) CW: Anal sex, unprotected sex Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Rock Star Eddie, Counselor Steve, Eddie is gay, Steve is bi, slow burn, smut Word Count: 3,757

Chapter 16<<Masterlist>>Chapter 18

Last night was a fucking revelation. Not only is he in disbelief that Steve, just out of nowhere, decided he was ready to sleep with him. But raw? Fuck. He’s never had that amount of trust before with someone. He’s sure it helps that he’s absolutely in love with the man. And call him sappy, but after he came inside his boyfriend, both of them experiencing that for the first time together, he feels closer to him than he’s ever felt with anyone.

And Steve called him daddy?! Jesus Christ. He hates to admit that he’s been called that several times before, but it’s always been so performative. With his boy though. It just erupted out of him like it was buried in there all along just waiting to come out.

He’s so fucking happy.

Especially now, with Steve’s toned body bouncing up and down on his dick. He basically attacked Eddie as soon as they woke up this morning. He was still a little stretched out from last night, so he just lubed Eddie up and climbed right on.

God, it was really something watching him lift up on his knees and slowly sink down until he was flush with Eddie’s hips. Panting and moaning while he rocked back and forth. He’s so fucking tight, his body hugging Eddie’s cock from tip to root. With no barrier between them, he can really feel Steve. So hot and slick and Eddie never wants to leave.

Steve adjusted quickly and he’s worked up a good pace. His strong fucking thighs are lifting up and down as he fucks himself on Eddie’s dick. He kinda feels like a fuck toy right now, just lying here enjoying the show while Steve chases his pleasure. Normally he’d like to be a lot more domineering, but watching his boyfriend ride him in the morning sunlight, his hair flopping around and dick bobbing between his legs and slapping Eddie’s stomach - it’s a hell of a view.

“God damn Eddie baby! Your cock is amazing!” Steve shouts as he impales himself over and over again. His hands are braced on Eddie’s chest, putting a delicious pressure on his nipple piercings, and he doesn’t ever want this to stop.

“You like that angel? You like riding that big dick? Take what you need, baby boy. It’s all yours.”

Steve whines and like the good boy he is, he asks, “Can you touch my cock daddy? Can I please cum?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“Such a good boy for asking. Let me take care of you honey.” He spits in his hand, grabs Steve’s dick and starts quickly stroking him. He’s gasping and making these little punched out “ah ah ah” noises and Eddie wishes he could record it and use it as a backbeat in a song. “That’s a good boy. You can cum now baby. Cum for your daddy.”

Steve lets go and groans as his orgasm shakes his whole body. He grinds down on Eddie’s cock, gripping him like a fucking vice as he cums into Eddie’s fist. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Eddie! Want you to cum too. Please baby!”

Eddie quickly flips them over and pounds into Steve’s tight heat. His boy is lax and worn out beneath him, content to lay there and take it. “Fucking Christ Steve, you’re so hot baby. Looked so gorgeous bouncing on my lap. Gonna fill you up, pump you full, watch it drip out of that hole and fuck it back in.”

Eddie’s always been a motormouth and clearly in bed he’s no different. Steve sure doesn’t seem to mind if his slutty moaning is anything to go by.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum baby. I’m gonna cum…take it. Fuckin’ take it!” His orgasm hits him like a bolt of fucking lightening as he slams home one final time and unloads into his boyfriend’s ass. It feels like he’s cumming buckets as his cock pulses over and over.

As the final waves subside, he collapses onto Steve, both of them panting heavily trying to catch their breaths. Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, kissing and licking at his sweaty skin. The essence of Steve. Steve, who hasn’t moved a muscle since Eddie came his brains out. Shit, he really went a little crazy there at the end. “Are you ok sweetheart? Was that too much?”

Steve doesn’t respond and Eddie is now genuinely worried that he hurt him. He raises his head and Steve is laying there with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. “Stevie. Baby. Are you alright?”

Apparently Eddie just fucked him stupid, the man can’t even form words. Just lifts his hand off the bed and gives him a thumbs up and a weak smile. Good lord.

Eddie chuckles, kisses his sweaty forehead, and starts to pull himself up. This finally gets a real reaction out of his boy. Steve’s eyes pop open and he grabs at Eddie’s shoulders with a whine. “No! Stay. Please.”

God he’s so sweet. His boy just needs touch. Needs to know that Eddie’s there and he’s not leaving. I’ll never leave you. He rolls them onto their sides, and wraps his arms around him, stroking his skin and placing light kisses on all the beautiful moles he can find.

His softening cock slides out and he dips his hand down between Steve’s cheeks and feels his cum dripping out. It’s so possessive, but he doesn’t give a shit as he uses his fingers to fuck it back into Steve just like he said he would. Steve moans and shivers and holds Eddie tighter. Yeah. He likes it too.

If he had a quicker refractory period, he’d slide his dick back in and fill him up again.

Christ, this is a whole new fetish for him now, isn't it?

He holds Steve for a while longer, running his hands through that floppy hair and stroking fingers down his back until his boy comes back down to Earth. Eddie knows he’s back with him when he feels Steve nuzzling into his skin and humming out a quiet, “Mmm…good morning.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and kisses his forehead. “Good morning baby boy. Hell of a way to start the day, huh?”

Steve hums his agreement and mumbles, “I’m all sticky. Need a shower before we see Rob.”

Shit that’s right. Steve usually does Sunday brunch with Robin, and she granted permission for Eddie to join them. Sacred stuff, this is.

One shower, a quick change of clothes, and one heated make out session against the front door later, and they’re at Steve and Robin’s favorite brunch spot. It’s a cute place, Eddie hasn’t been here before. Bright and airy and plants everywhere and very Queers Who Brunch. As soon as they’re sat at a table, Eddie grabs the seat of Steve’s chair and pulls so it’s right next to him and he can shower his baby in affection while they wait for Rob.

He’s got an arm draped possessively over Steve’s shoulder, the other on his leg, drawing little shapes on the inside of his thigh. Steve’s hand trailing lines up and down his forearm and he leans into Eddie’s space. He feels so close to his boy in so many ways as they nuzzle noses and can’t seem to bear to have more than an inch between them.

Eddie’s so in love.

He never thought he’d have something like this. He’s starting to think maybe Steve is feeling it too. And isn't that something.

“Ahem!” They’re broken out of their trance by Robin, who’s already sitting down across from them, menu in hand and eyebrow quirked. When did she get here? And why is she eyeing them like this? It’s a little intense, like she’s studying bacteria under a microscope. “You two finally boned, didn't you?”

Eddie splutters and Steve just giggles and hides his face in Eddie’s neck. Nuh uh, get out of there and face her you adorable little coward! Like he can read Eddie’s mind, Steve straightens up and looks at Robin. They’re doing that telepathic twin thing where they’re having a whole conversation with eye contact and minute facial expressions.

Eddie is observing Robin, trying to crack some code that might as well be in Russian. Her face going from accusatory, to questioning, to amused, to shocked, and landing on fond. She turns her gaze to Eddie, she looks him up and down, smiles brightly, and nods at Steve.

What the fuck just happened?

“Well, I bet you two little minxes are famished! Shall we?” Robin tosses them a couple menus and Eddie’s just trying to keep up.

The wonder twins get a couple mimosas, Eddie a virgin mimosa which is just orange juice, let’s be real here, and a round of coffees. Their server takes their order and Robin is grinning like an idiot as Eddie asks them, “Can I have the loaded hash browns, extra bacon, a side of two eggs, sunny side up, and the pancakes, please?”

They walk away with all their orders taken and Robin just starts laughing. “Worked up an appetite, did we?”

Eddie sips his mimosa (orange juice in a champagne glass, fucks sake) and smiles wide. “What can I say Birdie? Your soulmate here is insatiable. Rode me like a carnival ride this morning.”

Steve chokes on his (actual) mimosa while Robin cackles. “Eddie! Jesus!” he complains as he regains his composure.

“Oh come on Dingus, like I don’t already know that you’re a bitchy little bottom.” Robin looks smug as hell.

Eddie shakes his head at her. “Bitchy he is not, my dear. He’s a good little boy, aren’t you Stevie?”

Steve is turning all shades of red. “I regret introducing you two. I was going to spill to you later with the new face masks I got at the market, but I’m now reconsidering!”

“Nooooo,” Robin whines. “Steven, I’m sorry! Pamper me! Please! I need it after the shit date I had this weekend!”

“Oh no, did you finally ask out that artsy lesbian from the Lit department?”

Robin heaves a sigh and slumps in her seat. “Yes. I thought it would be a good fit! I dated every lesbian or lesbian-adjacent woman in the Languages department, and I know, I know, don't shit where you eat or whatever, but it’s not like I get out much, so my dating pool is kind of in-house at the moment. She works in Literature, I work in Languages, it makes sense right?! But apparently not! She was so fucking pretentious and boring and I couldn’t stand it! I need to find someone outside of academia before I end up going through every single professor at IU. They’re either boring as hell or think the sun shines out of their pussy. Why can’t I find my sexy rock star equivalent, babe?!”

Steve reaches across the table and takes her hand. “I’m sorry babe. She’s out there, I’m sure of it. She’ll probably come along when you least expect it, right? It happened to me, I’m positive it’ll happen to you. Just. Stop dating people at work for a while, maybe?”

Eddie nods and holds Steve’s other hand under the table, giving it a squeeze. “He’s right Birdie. You deserve a hell of a lot better than some tweed-wearing academic type. You need someone as colorful and fun as you. Someone who can match your energy, you know?”

Robin pinches her brows and smiles at Eddie. “Shit. Thank you Doofus.”

“Doofus?!”

“He’s Dingus, you’re Doofus,” she shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

It’s so stupid, but Eddie feels like he’s been officially accepted into the club.

Their food arrives and they dig in, Eddie cleaning all his plates. He really did work up an appetite going to town on Steve. He'll probably have to carb up or something if he’s going to keep having intense workouts like that. He’s not sure, he’s not an athlete.

Eddie pays the check, Steve protesting as always while Robin kicks him under the table because it’s free brunch Steve, shut the fuck up! They decide to head over to a thrift shop nearby to walk off some of their brunch and see if they can find any weird shit they can’t live without.

Steve leads him over to the clothing section and starts rifling through t-shirts. “Start digging Eds, they’ve always got at least one shirt here that’s weird as hell.” He’s fucking cute, like he’s going on a little treasure hunt. Eddie’s on the other side of the rack just gazing at him. He pulls out his phone, opens the camera and says, “Stevie! Smile!” His boyfriend looks up, makes a face, and throws up a couple peace signs like a dork. God he loves him. He should probably tell him soon.

They sort through one ugly shirt after another when Steve starts laughing his ass off. Eddie looks up and without a word, Steve pulls a shirt off the rack and holds it up to show him. It’s a faded black crop top with Daddy’s Boy in big blue letters across the chest. Eddie bursts out laughing and reaches over the rack to snatch it from him. “Oh, honey, this is coming home with us!“ He absolutely does not have a moment where he imagines he shares a home with Steve. And does not immediately make plans to find a realtor in Indy.

Eddie throws the shirt over his shoulder and continues his own treasure hunt, hoping to find a cool band shirt or something. What he ends up finding is so much better. “Stevie. Oh my god. Do you believe in fate? Because I think I do.” Steve makes an adorable confused face and Eddie holds up the shirt he found. It’s fucking awful and probably two sizes too small but he doesn’t care, he’s buying it.

Steve immediately doubles over laughing, drawing the attention of the few other patrons in the shop. “Oh my god Eds! We have to get it!” It’s a godawful white polo crop top with the sleeves cut off and Father Figure across the chest in black font. Steve tries to reach across to grab it, but Eddie for once in his life is too quick.

“Nuh uh princess. I got it.”

Steve huffs. “Eddie for Christ’s sake, I can buy a two dollar t-shirt for you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not about the money, baby boy. It's about me wanting to spoil you any way I can! You’re not spending a dime as long as I’m around.” Which I hope is forever.

Steve bites his lip. Eddie can tell he’s struggling with this. He walks around the rack and approaches his boy, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Honey. I know you’re independent, and I know this kind of attention is probably hard for you. But let me put it this way; you’ve spent forever taking care of the people around you, right? Robin? The Party? All those kids at work? Who’s been taking care of you?“

“He’s right Steve.” Robin walks up behind him and puts her arms around his waist. “I do what I can to take care of you but you rarely let me. So, if you’re not gonna let me do it, let this rich asshole do it.”

That gets a watery laugh out of Steve. “Jesus, you two make quite the team…fine. Get the shirts.” Steve leans forward and gives Eddie a quick kiss. It’s a beautiful acceptance.

They’re looking through a bin of patches and stickers when Eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see Chrissy FaceTiming him.

“Chris! You’ll never believe the shirts we just found!”

He tosses Steve his shirt and they both drape them over their chests to show them off.

“Eddie oh my GOD they’re perfect!” She laughs.

“And all for the bargain price of four dollars!”

“What a steal! How was your weekend, guys?”

“Good! It was really good!” Eddie tells her.

From the side Robin pipes up, “Oh don’t be coy Doofus, you guys finally went to Pound Town!”

“Who is that?! And holy shit seriously?! We are discussing this later Edward!”

“That’s Robin.” Eddie turns the phone towards her. “Say hi Robin!”

Robin does not say hi. Robin freezes and stares and her cheeks turn pink. Eddie looks at Steve. Steve looks at Eddie. They both grin.

“Oh! Hi…hi Robin.”

Robin must remember that she does in fact have the ability to speak. “H…hi Chrissy. I’m…I’m Robin.” For a Language professor she sure as hell doesn’t seem to have a huge grasp on the English language. Eddie is fucking eating this up. There’s no way he’s turning the phone back to himself while this is going on.

“I um…I heard about…Eddie told me about you. That you’re Steve’s friend.”

“Steve. Yeah. Steve is my friend. My best friend! He’s the best! Really really…great.”

“Yeah, he um…he seems great. Is uh…is Eddie still there?”

Of course Eddie is still there, Eddie is holding the fucking phone.

“Yup! Yeah, there’s an Eddie. His phone. This is Eddie’s phone so yeah Eddie’s right here.”

Jesus fucking Christ, both of these women just went brain dead. This is hilarious.

“Could I uh…could I talk to him?”

Eddie really wants to refuse and keep watching this shit show, but he decides to be merciful and turns the phone back to himself and can see the absolute glee on his face in the tiny box in the corner. Robin grabs Steve and hauls him to the other side of the shop in a fucking hurry. He is living for this.

“Christine, care to explain to me why your brain is melting out of your ears?”

“Eddie what the fuck!” she hisses at him. “Is she still there? Can she hear me?!”

“Nah you’re good babe. Now spill! That was so stupid!”

“You’re stupid! Why didn’t you tell me Robin was a fucking smoke show?! Goddamnit Eddie you’ve been sitting on this for two fucking months?!”

“Sorry, the ladies aren’t exactly my cup of tea. I take it you took a shining to her?”

“Took a shining?! She knocked me off my ass you cunt!”

“My goodness, such language from a nice Christian girl.”

“Oh fuck you, you’re dead to me now! You couldn’t have given me a heads up?! I sounded like a fucking idiot, oh my god!”

“Babe, calm down. You both sounded like idiots. And by the by, she dragged Steve away like the building was on fire, I think the feeling there is mutual.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that! And I also know that she’s gay, and she’s single, and hasn’t had any luck in the Indy dating pool recently. Maybe you could try to fingerblast that when you come to visit.”

“God you’re such a pig. But you’re also a genius. I wouldn’t mind getting wrist-deep in that.”

“Jesus babe, now who’s the pig?”

“Do they know we’re coming to Indy next weekend? The guys are so fucking excited, and I got all that shit you asked for from your place.”

“They’re coming here?” Eddie jumps at the sound of Steve’s voice behind him.

“You didn’t tell him?!”

“Surprise?” Eddie shrugs.

Steve puts his hands on his hips, and yeah he absolutely gets the mom thing. Eddie feels like he’s about to get reprimanded for spilling Kool Aid on the carpet. “Eddie, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me they’re coming out here? Is it the whole band?!”

Eddie sighs and turns back to Chrissy for a moment. “Lemme call you later babe.” He hangs up before she can reply and pockets his phone. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a surprise! I promised the kids I would DM their campaign next weekend and I thought it would be fun to get the Hellfire guys back together. We haven’t played in years, and I was so excited about it, and thought it would be a cool surprise for The Party, and then you’d also get to meet everybody! But I can tell by the look on your face that I really fucked up. Did I fuck this up? Are you mad?”

Steve sighs and drops his hands. “I’m not mad. It’s a really great idea, and the kids are gonna love it. I guess I just feel a little blindsided. These are your people, and obviously I want them to like me, and I don’t know…I’m really nervous. What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

Eddie immediately scoops up in a hug. “Baby boy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’d feel that way. Why on Earth would you think you’re not good enough, honey? You’re everything to me.”

Steve hugs him back and quietly tells him, “I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I’m a lot different than them. I’m not into metal, I don’t know anything about D&D and that’s the whole reason they’re coming here. Feels like they’re gonna take one look at me and know I don’t fit in.”

Eddie kisses his temple. “Stevie. In case you already forgot, let me remind you. I have a history of collecting the people who don’t fit in. They’re going to love you.” Just like I love you. “You’re smart and funny and caring and they're going to see that. If anyone is a dick, it’s going to be Gareth, but he’s like that with everybody. Just like Mike! And you’ve dealt with that plenty, so it’s not going to be a problem.”

Steve snickers at that. “Yeah, ok. Maybe you have a point. Thank you baby. I-” He cuts himself off and Eddie pulls back to see what’s wrong. He just bites his lip and then smiles. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I can’t wait either sweetheart. Especially since Chrissy is coming. I’ve never seen her malfunction like that, what the fuck!”

Steve's eyes go big. “Oh my god, Robin too! That was so stupid! They’re totally gonna fuck aren’t they?”

Eddie laughs, “Oh absolutely! I hope Robin limbers up, Chrissy’s a fuckin’ animal. Now let’s check out and go home, I wanna see you model that shirt.”

He slaps Steve’s ass as he turns to walk towards the register and hears Robin shout from down the aisle, “Wait for me, Daddy Warbucks, you owe me after that shitshow!”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. This is gonna be great.

Chapter 16<<Masterlist>>Chapter 18

*********************************************

Taglist is open! Comments and reblogs are like little kisses! Pucker up!

@annachronisme @mrsjellymunson @kozuuji

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #modern steddie #steddie au #steddie smut #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

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dynasty889 · 2 days ago

Text

Scylla (Warrior!Penelope AU)

I totally remembered this was in my drafts lmao. Ima be pissed if there’s a typo or something in here oof

CW: Blood, death, descriptions of injuries to the body (lots of dismemberment and severed limbs)

——————————————————————————

The ship sailed slowly on calm waters. The sun was starting to set. The crew hummed quietly a shanty as they rowed onwards towards the narrow passage they had to pass through to get home.

The lair of Scylla…

Penelope walked across the deck to the bow. The waters in front of them were still and silent. Jagged rocks jetted out and as she turned around, she caught a glimpse of a floating, mutilated limb of a human.

Once they entered the strait, all light disappeared except for the torches that burned on the mast. Her crew gagged, a putrid odor of death and horror filled the air.

“This is our only way home,” she mumbled to herself. She breathed deeply as she reminded herself of this.

“Deep down…” The voice was quiet, yet crystal clear as it echoed across the walls.

“You’re quiet today.” Penelope turned her head and found Ctimene standing behind her with a pensive expression. She looked exhausted and ridden with anxiety.

“Deep down…” Those two words again echoed around, but several other voices accompanied the original speaker.

Penelope offered her friend a weak but kind smile. “Not much to say,” she admitted, then returned her gaze to what was in front of them.

“Deep down, you hide a reason for shame...” It was like whoever was speaking was above, below, and on both sides of the ship.

Ctimene ran a hand through her hair. She felt like her knees could give out at any moment. “Penny,” she asked.

Penelope turned to Ctimene again but stayed silent.

“I’ve got a secret I can no longer keep,” she said. Guilt seeped into her tone for she was filled to the brim with it.

“Deep down, you know that we are the same…”

“I opened the wind bag while you were asleep.” Ctimene was shaking like a leaf, her voice cracking as her eyes filled with guilty, regretful tears. Penelope didn’t flinch, she didn’t move. She just turned her gaze away.

“Leaving them feeling betrayed. Breaking the bonds that you’ve made…”

“I’m so sorry,” Ctimene exclaimed.

“There is no price we won’t pay…” Gentle splashes came from behind the ship.

“Forgive me!” she pleaded.

“We both know what it takes to survive…”

“Full speed ahead,” Petra demanded urgently. She didn’t care if she didn’t have the authority to say such a thing, she wanted to get away from these cliffs that seemed to sing on their own.

“Full speed ahead,” the crew chanted. They rowed faster. The oars clanked against the rocks, lifted the seabed up to the surface, and nudged floating objects in the water. “Full speed ahead, full speed ahead!

“Deep down, we only care for ourselves.” The ship bumped into something beneath the water. Or perhaps it was something bumped into the ship. The latter was confirmed when Penelope spotted the dark scales of a creature breaching the surface of the water. Whatever was following them dipped below again, completely out of sight.

“Ctimene,” she called, the first time had acknowledged Ctimene since her concession, “light up six torches.”

Ctimene nodded. She would do anything to appease Penelope, anything to get Penelope to look at her again and trust her. She had failed to obey her captain once, but she would not again. She handed five torches out, keeping the sixth for herself.

“Deep down, we’re lonely demons from Hell…”

“Captain, something approaches,” Ctimene stated as she peered over the railing.

In front of them was a woman. The head of a woman. She had long, thin, black hair. Her eyes blankly stared at the ship, her head slightly tilted, and mouth open. “Hello.” Her mouth didn’t move as she spoke. Her eyes didn’t blink.

Out of the water began to rise a being of great size. Six heads lifted out of the murky water, each baring three rows of jagged teeth. Ctimene stepped away from the railing. Everyone gazed up and down the monster before them. Penelope’s gaze was not on Scylla, only the faint light she could see on the other edge of the strait.

Penelope’s deep sigh was the last of the quiet. “ROW FOR YOUR LIVES!!!” she commanded. Nothing else was given a chance to happen as Scylla lunged for the ship.

“DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARS!”

Terror paralyzed the crew. This was unlike any monster they had seen before or heard in legends. This was a horror even the gods turned away from. A head creeped from behind and snatched a woman from the deck. Blood spilled as she hung onto the railing, desperate for her life, but the monster’s jaws crushed her and pulled her into the water. A torch dropped onto the deck.

“CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR TEARS!”

Everyone, aside from Penelope, whipped around and watched the final moments of a life be destroyed. Immediately, another head closed in and stole away another life. Her blood curdling screams bounced off each cliff. She, too, held a torch. The severed arm that held the torch dropped back onto the ship as well. The head swallowed and consumed the spilled blood and broken limb before slipping back down into the water.

“BLEED TILL YOU’VE RAN OUT OF YEARS!” A third crew mate was picked off. She screamed and reached her hands out. Ctimene hurriedly gave her torch to another and ran to save her. Their hands touched briefly, but Scylla’s bite was too powerful. Ctimene was coated in blood and a torch dropped beside her feet.

“No…” Ctimene’s mind was working as fast as Scylla’s jaws were, but her body was not. The woman she had handed her torch to was crushed to pieces.

“WE MUST DO WHAT IT TAKES TO SURVIVE!”

Penelope was eerily calm. Scylla plucked a woman right behind her, piercing her chest and back with her fangs. The woman grabbed onto the ship. Penelope was right in front of her and she reached out for help, but Penelope didn’t move. She stared straight ahead like she was looking at Death right in the eyes. Like everyone else who Scylla had killed, the flickering flames of a torch was the last thing they left behind.

“GIVE UP YOUR HONOR AND FAITH! LIVE UP YOUR LIFE AS A WRAITH! DIE IN THE BLOOD WHERE YOU BATHE! WE BOTH KNOW WHAT IT TAKES TO SURVIVE!” Scylla’s heads finished their chant as the final person to fall victim to her was consumed and dragged under water.

Every head but the first one that greeted them sank below. She watched with the same blank eyes as the ship reached the other side of the strait. She sang one last chant, “We are the same you and I…”

“…I,” Penelope whispered. The ship emerged into the light once more, greeted to an orange sky and bright sunset.

Ctimene was sick with guilt and anger. She turned around, eyes blinded by the setting of the sun. When a cloud finally blocked its light, she only saw one thing in her way.

Penelope.

#epic the musical #penelope #ctimene #scylla #warrior!penelope #epic the thunder saga #jorge rivera herrans #swap au #yeah hmmm…idk what I’ll do next

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greenerteacups · 2 days ago

Note

Jkr as a writer anon, sorry for the follow up!

I so agree with you! One of the things that I found kind of… not smooth in this transition, is that she wanted the characters to behave in a certain way which would serve the plot and would be very “we knew all along that Harry is a messiah and was supposed to die” while never giving them space for reaction.

Snape is shocked at the revelation that Harry was “brought up like a pig for slaughter”, and he does… nothing. Characters have no time to react to that, too, they have no time to get angry and upset. Hermione and Ron are not even allowed to contemplate that their best friend, a very precious and loved friend, was brought up so that he could sacrifice himself, and that in aligning themselves with him they also became in the eyes of Dumbledore fair targets. An orphan, a sixth Weasley boy and a muggleborn walk into a bar, and no one cares.

I always felt like Sirius was not supposed to die this early. There are empty spaces where his character should have been in later books (regulus mystery feels like something very glaring, no one reacts to that, there is no emotional pay off - that’s what I mean).

And at the end she just slaps Harry calling his kid after Snape and Dumbledore, to shut the plot hole completely. Idk. Feels very… authoritarian to me

So it's really interesting you say that!! Because — and you may know this, so sorry if I'm rehashing — Sirius was only one of several names on the shortlist for the Big Death at the end of Book 5. Miscellaneously it's been said in fandom spaces that Arthur was the "original sacrifice" for OOTP, but to be honest, I can't find any primary sources for that, and I think it's one of these fandom urban legends that people have been shopping around without sources for so long they're accepted. The best I can do is this Leaky Cauldron interview from 2007, where the interviewer asks her "what would have changed if you killed Arthur in Book 5?" Which is not the same thing as her saying that she was going to! But then again, since it's an excerpt, it might have been in response to a remark she made earlier about him being the original. Here's the quote:

I think they would have been very different and it’s part of the reason why I chose my mind (sic) … By turning Ron into half of Harry, in other words by turning Ron into someone who had suffered the loss of a parent, I was going to remove the Weasleys as a refuge for Harry and I was going to necessarily remove a lot of Ron’s humor. That’s part of the reason why I didn’t kill Arthru (sic). I wanted to keep Ron in tact …

Take that as you will. I (a sicko freak) personally love the idea of turning Ron into "half of Harry," conceptually — not necessarily by killing Arthur or Molly but like, the idea of Ron/Harry as foils to each other that are so deeply entwined with each other's lives that they become shadows of each other thematically and plot-wise. Ron yearns to be like Harry and Harry yearns to be like Ron, right? So they both get what they want, and Ron suffers a tragedy, and Harry realizes the terror of having a family to protect. And they trauma-bond over it as they increasingly become the only people who understand each other. Etc. They're destiny, they're chosen soulmates, they're fated to find each other, that's not always a good thing, etc. You know what I'm like.

Incidentally, this is the same interview where we get the infamous "full circle" quote explaining why she killed Lupin and Tonks:

The only other reason I didn’t kill Arthur was that I wanted to come full circle. We started with an orphan, someone who lost their parents because of the war. ANd so I wanted to show it again … Even though you don’t see Teddy, I wanted to express in the epilogue, that he gets an even better godfather than Harry had, because Sirius had ihs (sic) faults, I think we must admit. He was a risky guy to have a s a godfather. Because Teddy gets someone who really has been there, and Harry becomes a really great father figure for Teddy as well as his own children.

So both times, it seems like Arthur's death is contemplated, but he's spared because of what the Weasleys mean to Harry, and the effect it would have on Ron. Which. I've already talked about my thoughts on the Epilogue and Teddy Lupin, so I won't go off about it here. Worth noting, however, that Sirius dies because Book 5 (and this I agree with) wants an "anchoring death," or something to shift the books another step into the dark tone of a war. Book 4 ends with the death of a child; Book 5 ends with death of a parent, an adult. Book 5 is also substantially about disillusionment with the adults around you, and learning to navigate a world of complex, flawed grown-ups who all have substantially more power than you do. So there's a reading where Sirius — someone who's never really "grown up" — dying drives home the lesson of putting childish things aside and seeing people for what they are, etc. Thematically, I'm not mad at it. I am mad at the fact that plot-wise, it bricks up our easiest window into the world of the Blacks, so any first-hand account we could get of Regulus or Narcissa or Bellatrix's upbringing vanishes with him. Tonks and Andromeda theoretically could fill that void, but we never meet Andromeda, and Tonks dies after spending the whole of Book 7 off-page, so we never get that chance to learn what their lives were like. But hey! Can't do everything, I guess.

#greenteacup asks

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dragon-tamer-1 · 3 days ago

Text

Flighteningverse Week 2024

Day 6: Brothers(and Day 7)

It was just another supply run. They needed some more herbs that Horror didn't already have in their greenhouse, as well as some meat and other foods they were running out of. This time Sanguine and Dust were doing the supply run, they all usually take turns doing them, and sometimes all of them do it. They saved enough money from doing some odd jobs in AUs.

They were in two separate shops, but not too far from each other, it was Dust's insistence that they don't stray too far from each other. As much as Sanguine has gotten better at being in crowded places, he secretly admits he enjoys that his friends care enough to always be nearby on supply runs or just trips to other AUs.

He was looking through some produce when he felt... something. Something he hadn't felt in so long, or, rather, someone. He immediately whipped his skull around, looking for just a glimpse, enough to know that he wasn't imagining this feeling. It had to be his brother, right? He has to find him. He has to. He just can't let him get away again. He misses him so much, it hurts.

Just as Sanguine was turning the corner of the next aisle, he saw someone with a large cloak leaving the shop. But, looking closer, he noticed some feathers. Normally, that wouldn't be too weird, other normal monsters can be feathered and/or have wings. But, while he may not be able to tell whose feathers they looked like, he had this gut(or lack thereof) that was his brother. He started making his way to him, following him out of the store, produce forgotten inside.

"Hey! Hold up!"

The stranger jumped, turning around. Yellow eyelights met purple eyelights, for the first time in so long.

"Dis-"

Disper then started fleeing before Sanguine could even finish speaking, having panicked at seeing his brother after so long. He was scared that Sanguine still hated him, and while he sorely missed his brother, he couldn't help but to still fear that he'd hurt his brother. Even though he's had plenty of time to get used to the strength he gained from the negative apples, he still has the anxiety and self-doubt that he'd lash out against the ones he cares for.

Sanguine gave chase as soon as the shock wore off. He was going to catch him so they can finally talk. It hurts, to have his brother run from him as though he was going to hurt him. The fear he saw in Dispir's eyes in that short moment, why was he so afraid of him? Or was it something else?

They ran through the streets, several humans and monsters having to jump out of the way of the two. Sanguine tried calling out for Dispir to wait, he just wants to talk, but Dispir didn't listen and kept running. The only thing that kept either of them from taking flight was the crowded area they were running through. But Sanguine knew that at some point, it'd be clear enough that Dispir would likely start flying to keep avoiding him, so he had to catch up to him before then.

And, sure enough, after turning a corner onto a relatively clear pathway, Dispir starts unfurling his wings and takes off. Sanguine follows soon after, taking their chase to the air.

After a short while, Dispir weaves through the buildings and, when he has enough distance, opens a portal and flies through. It closes quickly after, which Sanguine just barely missed. He vaguely saw the other side of the portal, but not enough to know for sure where he portaled to.

Sanguine just hovers there, in shock and defeat. Did he just lose his brother again? Why was he so scared of him that he was trying to fly away so fast? Why couldn't he catch up to him? Did his brother really not want to see him anymore? Did he hate him? As his thoughts spiraled down, he didn't notice that he's been lowering in altitude, only vaguely noticing when he touched down in an alley.

Dust later finds Sanguine after he's collapsed on the ground crying, having noticed that he wasn't in the other store or nearby and went looking for him. He wished that Sanguine had a phone, especially in situations like these. They tried to recommend one, but he was reluctant to get one, not used to the technology since it confuses him. Guess that's what happens when you grow up in an AU that didn't have modern technology. They're still helping him acclimate to the more modern stuff.

Dust ran over to him, only somewhat relieved that he was not hurt, but became more concerned when he saw him crying and mumbling to himself. "Hey Night, what happened? I couldn't find you for a while there. I got worried."

Sanguine only continued mumbling, "I couldn't reach him. He was right there and I couldn't, couldn't reach him- why was he so scared?"

Dust was only more concerned, who was he- Oh. He kneeled down, "You saw your brother? Did you see where he went?"

Sanguine flinched, snapping his head around, apparently only just now realizing he wasn't alone. "Dust? When did you get here?" He tried wiping his tears away, but more kept coming.

"Not too long ago, bud. Heard ya mention someone being right there? If I am guessing correctly, you were talking about your brother? You saw him?"

Sanguine nodded, looking down again. His wings subconsciously wrapping around him and Dust, who was right next to him. Dust ran one of his hands through his feathers as Sanguine told him about how he found his brother and the chase that followed. At some point, Dust's wings were also spread a bit and one was in Sanguine's hands, being massaged.

It's something they all noticed about Sanguine, he had a habit of fidgeting with his hands when he was nervous or otherwise overwhelmed. And if they had their wings extended out to him, he would start preening or massaging them as he worked out his stress, and enjoyed others doing the same for him. It helps calm him when he's too overwhelmed by his emotions or doubts. All of them got used to this new habit, unintentionally building this habit for themselves when everyone's wings had finally grown in. Not that any of them were complaining, it was a very pleasant habit, and definitely better coping mechanisms that isolating themselves if they were having bad days. They gave each other their own space of course, but inevitably whoever was having the bad day would eventually come out and ask for it in their own way.

After finishing his story, Sanguine leaned into Dust, who put his other arm not running through the other's feathers around his shoulders. "I sure missed a lot, huh? Well, let's think of what to do next. Did you see anything through the portal he made?"

Sanguine, calming down, started concentrating, trying to recall any details about what was on the other side of his brother's portal. "... There was snow, I'm pretty sure it was a Snowdin? I saw the banner, but not entirely sure cause I didn't see much before it closed."

"Okay, that's not much to work with, but it's a start. But that would also be assuming that he either stays in that AU or even frequents it. Was there anything else?"

"I think I saw that there was a Muffet's? It looked different than Grillby's, at least."

Dust thought it over, going over the AUs he remembers them visiting. They haven't visited a lot of them, there were the regular visits to the AUs that they got supplies from, then there were the ones they looked for Sanguine's brother. There was one AU type that had a Muffet's in place of a Grillby's. What was it called again...?

"Oh, I think it was an Underswap universe. Or maybe one of the Fell variants..."

Sanguine perked up, "Oh? Well, I guess we have a lead, if he stays in one of those, anyway, but it's something rather than nothing. But there has to be so many of those. How will we even narrow it down?"

"We'll figure it out. One step at a time, though. Let's go back and get what we need and head back home first. As much as I know you want to immediately go and find him, rest is important, too. As you've been telling us," Dust added cheekily.

A chuckle escaped Sanguine at that last remark. "Alright, alright, I guess you're right. Let's go, then."

~Much later, after looking through many different Underswap AUs~

Sanguine opened a portal in the woods close to Snowdin, and entered with Horror, who insisted on coming with, and Killer, who Dust shoved into the group. Dust has a headache, only aggravated by Killer's seemingly endless energy, thus why he shoved him into the others and stayed home. Cross stayed behind to keep an eye on things, and is generally quieter, which is good for Dust's headache.

They kept their wings closed and tucked into their coats, more or less trying to blend in a bit. Horror has his hood up, too. They wandered a bit in Snowdin, just trying not to draw too much attention to themselves while looking for any sign of Dispir being there at all. Killer split off to look over at the Snowed Inn and shop, while Sanguine and Horror explored around the other side toward the skelebros' house.

As they got closer, Blue exited his house in his usual dramatic flair. What got Sanguine's and Horror's attention more than that, was the feathers on Blue's back. It looked almost exactly like when Sanguine's friends started growing wings. Although, it didn't make too much sense to Sanguine. His friends started to grow wings and such because of them being outside their universe, right? Could it also be from his presence? This is unknown for now, and has to wait until later.

Blue noticed the two upon exiting, and especially noticed their staring, but it didn't bother him, he was the Magnificent Sans! But they also weren't from here, he could tell. He could also see the feathers on their faces, and it reminded him of Dispir. He waved at them, and greeted them.

"Hello! I am the Magnificent Sans, who might you two strangers be? Would you like to come inside? I can make hot chocolate!"

Sanguine and Horror were a little hesitant, but Sanguine answered, "Hello, this is Horror, and I'm Sanguine. We wouldn't mind, but only if you're sure? We don't want to intrude."

"Of course I'm sure, I wouldn't offer if I wasn't!"

"Then sure, we'll accept your invite. Thank you for inviting us. Oh, but if it's alright, we have a third person with us, he's back over there somewhere," he said while pointing in the general direction of where Killer was, "would it be alright if he came, too?"

"Oh, of course! I was about to go find my lazy brother, Papyrus, but I'm sure he's around somewhere, and will be fine waiting a bit longer, mweheh."

"Thank you, I'll go get him real quick, Horror, you can stay here if you want, I'll be right back." Horror nodded and stayed with Blue, who led him inside to start making hot chocolate for everyone.

When Sanguine came back with Killer, the hot chocolate was almost done, and they sat next to or near Horror on the couch. As they settled in, a portal opened up in the living room, startling them.

Dispir walked through the portal, not noticing them yet, calling out, "Hey Blue, I'm back! I know it hasn't-"

Sanguine, shocked but acting immediately, tackled Dispir in a hug, holding tight in fear that if he let go, he'd disappear. The action did make them fall to the ground, Dispir squirming to get out of the surprise tackle. Upon realizing who is holding him, he panics.

Blue comes back into the room to find Sanguine and Dispir struggling on the floor while Horror and Killer are looking ready to either join the pile on the floor or ready to jump behind the couch. Wings are flailing about and feathers are ruffled. "Hey! Let's calm down, now! Why are you two on the floor?"

Sanguine ignores him, but addresses Dispir while tears are running down his cheek bones, "Please calm down, I'm not going to hurt you! I just want to have my brother back! Please listen!"

Dispir doesn't register what's being said, but as Sanguine keeps holding him in place and repeating that he won't hurt him, just stop trying to run from him, he loves him. He starts actually hearing what he's saying, and slowly calms down a bit.

"You... don't want to hurt me?"

"No! I would never dream of hurting you! Why did you think that? Is that why you've been avoiding me all this time? I've been searching for three years, more or less." In a quieter voice, he admits "I thought you hated me..."

Dispir's eyes widened at that, "No! I don't hate you! I never did! I'm sorry, I never wanted to make you feel that way. I was just afraid I'd hurt you again." By this point they're facing each other, finally talking to each other ever since that fateful day.

Everyone else in the room relaxed more, seeing that the brothers have stopped semi-fighting on the floor. Deciding that they needed some time to themselves to sort out their feelings and misunderstandings that have been unresolved up until now, they moved to the kitchen. Blue made another cup of hot chocolate for Dispir, and served the other two their cups that he had finished making before the small scuffle. He then gave the brothers theirs afterwards, leaving them on the coffee table for them and going back to the others.

Both Sanguine and Dispir were in tears as they cleared up misunderstandings, and talked about the Incident(tm) and what led up to it. They both learned things the other had kept secret, and what they've experienced since. They both hugged near the end, but both of them hadn't stopped being in any kind of physical contact, especially Sanguine, who would never admit that he was clingy. His friends(might as well be family though) already know this, but they don't tease him for it. Except for Killer, but Sanguine knows now that it's all light-hearted, so he doesn't get too embarrassed about it anymore.

Eventually, they ended up falling asleep there on the couch, their emotional talk had drained them and just passed out after they finished talking. Blue got extra plankets and pillows, and Horror and Killer helped Blue get them comfortable on the couch. At some point Honey showed up, and before he could say anything, Blue motioned to keep quiet and pointed upstairs. So both of them went upstairs, likely so Blue and Honey could talk about the unexpected guests they suddenly got. Honey was fine with it as long as they didn't hurt Blue. Even if Killer and Horror seemed a bit sketchy, he wasn't going to turn them away.

Killer and Horror set up a spot on the floor to the side of the couch to rest with the extra blankets and pillows for them to nap there. They knew that they'd get a proper introduction to Sanguine's brother when they woke up, but for now, best to just stay nearby and let themselves rest. They did text Cross and Dust that Sanguine had found his brother and they managed to talk to each other. They fell asleep soon after, feeling happy for their best friend for finally reuniting with his brother.

It's here!! So glad to get this done, and I can finally show you all the art for Day 7!! It took so long due to a bit of writer's block and working on other things, but it's done!

Flighteningverse AU belongs to me Dream and Nightmare belong to joku Underswap belongs to p0pcornpr1nce(don't remember the correct spelling, forgive me if it's wrong) Cross belongs to Jakei Killer belongs to rahafwabas Dust belongs to ask-dusttale Horror belongs to horrortale comic on tumblr/sour apple studios(I was told they changed their name but putting both anyway)

Also, little extra under the cut

#my writing #flighteningverse #Flighteningverse Week 2024 #flighteningverse!killer #flighteningverse!dust #flighteningverse!horror #flighteningverse!cross #sanguine!nightmare #dispirited!dream #dispir!dream #< might just change his name to dispir since i always refer to him as that

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