#anyways. what if YOU were supposed to choose between two suns huh??

[jupiter-reimagined]

not me adding prāta vētra to every playlist ever. i promise im not obsessed. oh my god.

finally working on my oc playlists and. i keep forgetting that mārītes 17 and going batshit insane at every chance she can. anyways big fun from the heathers soundtrack would be her-coded if her dads werent such nuisances. well. or it would be her if she was still living in london/living w katie

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice I

Choose your own adventure ~ “Die With Memories, not Dreams“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You decide to let Techno sleep with you. He spoons you, keeping you warm, and you dream about him… You wake up in the morning to him preparing your room. When you get downstairs, you notice him hiding a hard-on, and you both decide to deal with it the rough way.

Warnings: Cussing, praise kink, rough sex NSFW!! MINORS DNI

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

~Recap~

I could feel my blood rush to my face as they asked if I’d sleep with them. I turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” I said.

They paused and my heartbeat harder, unsure what they were going to say. I started preparing the fire, putting the hesitation out of my mind.

~Recap Complete~

— The Bird —

Techno is so cute when he’s trying to hide his shame. As if he should be ashamed of offering to sleep with me. It didn’t need to mean anything, but it obviously did to him. Never one to pass up and opportunity to make fun of him, I took the bait.

“Please, that fire is not going to be enough,” I cuddled up into the cloak, looking bashfully at him, “I need some body heat, pig boy.”

“Is it really that cold in here?” His voice was slightly shaky.

“Yeah, and I promise I won’t try to fuck you,” I said, “Unless you want to, of course,”

He stopped, not looking up. I could tell his face was burning because his ears were bright red, a sure sign of embarrassment. I hit the right nerve, and I watched eagerly to see what he did next.

“Let’s take a raincheck,” he said, “but if that’s what dates do then I’m down.”

I turned his words over in your head, half dumb-struck, half… well…

“I’m joking, Bird,” He says, his blush is gone, replaced by a victorious smile, “And I think you were, too,”

“What makes you think that?” I said innocently.

“Shut up and get dressed,” He squinted at me and shook his head, “I’ll be back up in a few.”

With that, he left. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand, my hands getting clammy. His cape around me felt heavy as if he were there holding me. I shook the thought out of my head, ignoring the sudden arousal stirring inside of me.

Bracing for the cold, I shucked his cape off and then the rest of my clothes. Part of me silently hoped he’d walk in on me undressing, see me there and… no. I slipped on a pair of comfy pants and a soft shirt. Even if Techno wanted to, he would never say it, and it’s too hard to read him to risk bringing it up.

I draped his cape across the back of a chair and scurried under a pile of woven blankets and furs on the bed. It was still cold, but I ignored my goosebumps and shut my eyes.

— Techno —

By the time I had gotten upstairs, it looked like they were already asleep. I thought about leaving them there, deep in slumber, and going downstairs to sleep on the couch, but when I touched their neck, my hand froze. They were incredibly cold and still shivering. Thank god the banquet isn’t supposed to take place here, I think they’d freeze to death.

I wriggled under the blanket, heart pounding. They were cold to the touch all over, but I held them close to me anyway. Slowly, I tucked my leg in between theirs to warm their legs. I wrapped my arms around them and held them close to my chest, quickly realizing they were still awake.

“Mmm, Techno,” They mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re so warm,” they quietly laughed, “like a radiator.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“So you’re cute and hot, huh?” They teased. I blushed again, this time not hiding it. There was no chance I’d be able to hide that and my arousal at the same time, and one was obviously more important.

I did not want them freaking out if they realized I was hard, so I shoved those feelings deep down somewhere in an attempt to forget about it.

Soon, my eyelids grew heavy, and Bird was asleep in my arms.

— The Bird’s dream —

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way that I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” A voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

I’m below him, he’s thrusting into me in a white space, the voice was gone and there was no sound except for the quiet moans escaping his lips.

— The Bird —

I gasped, suddenly wide awake. Techno wakes, breathing into me. I’m back in his bed, the man behind me was stirring, opening his eyes. His arms were wrapped around me, pressing my back against his chest, his leg was between mine.

“Bird,” He whispers.

I shifted so I faced him, burying my face into his chest, which I realized was bare. He pulled me closer, softly squeezing me.

“Sorry, go back to sleep,” I said. He was already sleeping

— Techno —

The sun was in my eyes, making my vision red before I even opened my eyes. I was holding them in my arms, they silently snored, unaware I was awake. The curtains had been left open and sunlight spilt into the room in an orange glow. The fire had gone out sometime last night and the stale air was cold in my nose.

I kissed them on the forehead, reluctantly letting them go and standing up. I carefully shut the curtains and lit the fire. When I looked back at the bed, they were watching me, smiling.

“Good morning,” I said.

“G’morn’n” they muttered, still half asleep.

This was a strange feeling. Everything was right in the world, the gods were finally smiling down at me. Fuck, they’re so cute.

I picked myself up, moving to open the furthest curtains slightly to allow them to get up if they wanted. In what would be a small gesture for most people, I put their clothes for today out on the chair, where they’d left my cape.

I lifted it up, pulling it close to my face to free the end from the top of the chair. It smelled like them, even though they’d only been wearing it for a few minutes.

I trot down the stairs, leaving them to awaken alone. I hung my cape on its stand and went to the kitchen. I grabbed some bread and tore a chunk out of it, absentmindedly chewing.

We know what you want, Techno. They know, too. They want it, you want it, so what’s stopping you? Huh? Oh, and you can feel that?! It’s lust, Techno. I know you know who it’s for. I cursed at the voices to shut it, I’d had enough teasing for today. I didn’t need to be enticed further, just being around them was enough.

The floor creaked above me, meaning they’d gotten up for the day. I tried to take deep breaths to slow my heartbeat, but I couldn’t stop the hard-on I was getting. What are you gonna do now, big boy? They’re gonna see you biting back an erection in the kitchen. You’re going to scare them away. You’re going to put them on their knees-

Their face peeked around the stair entrance, searching for me. I composed myself as best I could. They nodded at me and rushed down the stairs, still dressed in the clothes from last night.

Their hair was a bird’s nest, fitting. Their shirt was half-tucked into their pants, which hugged their form and cut just before the ankles. Their bare feet were playfully pattering towards me.

“Like what you see?” They asked.

I cleared my throat and swallowed the bread, “I left clothes for you on the chair if you want to change.”

“You’re not changed,” they poked my chest, eying my abs, “You’re being a hypocrite.”

“Am not,” I was. “You’re going to freeze in that, I’m fine as I am.”

“That’s why you’re here, remember?”

The blush was too fast to hide. Thankfully, they’d already looked away and at the bread in my hand.

“Can I have it?” They asked as they plucked it from my hands, not waiting for a response.

“Um, you already do…” The voices were picking up again, shoving themselves into the front of my mind. You want them to devour you like that, don’t you? You want to feed them something more… substantial.

“Shut-“ I said.

They paused, “What?” Their mouth was stuffed with bread and my mind raced. I could fit in there, and it would be so nice, tight, wet…

“It’s nothing. I need to get dressed if you’re not going to,” My dick pulsed, begging for release. I knew I liked them, but this was new. Last night, I couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to fuck them. They’re so small compared to me. I’d fit in so nicely.

“No, stay.” They demanded.

I was already heading for the stairs, and I didn’t face them, knowing the tent in my pants was a dead giveaway. “Why? What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll suck your dick.” They said. It was a bit too honest and my face burned, my mind pleading for me to flip them over and destroy their innocence.

“Bet,” I said, or rather, the voices said through me. Regret rushed through me as their footsteps approached.

“As if I didn’t notice, Technoblade,” They said, now in front of me. My shame was palpable. “I felt it last night, and I saw it this morning. You are so adorable.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at them blankly.

“I’m being serious,” They said, crossing their arms, “I need to destress and honestly, I haven’t been fucked in a long time, so just let me know. The offer’s open.”

They began to walk away, taking my blank stare as disinterest. I grabbed their arm, holding them in place. I looked them in the eye, glimmering in the morning light, the last bits of dusk were barely visible in their pupils. Their lips parted partially as their eyes met mine. Do it, I know you want to.

“I do,” I said, out loud. My thoughts were getting a little too audible.

“You do… what?”

I grabbed their face and kissed them harshly.

— The Bird —

When I first saw Techno cleaning upstairs, I was enthralled in his form. He looked lean with his shirts on, like an emaciated cow. With it off, I could see the curves of his muscles, how they flexed when he picked something up.

He was also covered in scars. They were lighter than his normal skin tone, and they were raised slightly. Some of them looked older than others, and I couldn’t help but imagine him telling the stories behind each and every one.

As I woke up more and my eyes adjusted to the light, I also noticed his bulge, which I was desperate to unsee. The dream from last night was fuzzy, but my pants were still damp from it. I remember him over me, letting me have it and-

“Good morning,” He said.

I barely mumbled a reply, silently running scenarios through my mind. He could slip back into bed and destroy me. I would be screaming his name in minutes. The tent in his pants was nothing less than an invitation.

-

“You do… what?”

He grabbed my face and pushed his lips onto mine. I moaned slightly into it, knowing it would put a sizable dent in the walls he’d put up around his heart.

He pulled back, “I can… can you?” He couldn’t even form full sentences. It’s almost like he was in heat.

I pushed him lightly against the wall and got on my knees. Fuck, am I really doing this? He’s my best friend, does he even care about me? Am I doing this just to have it ruin the banquet? Our relationship is going to go off the fucking rails if I do this.

I was already putting my hand on his dick. I could feel the precum soak through the fabric. I rubbed its head, putting my other hand in his pants to get a real grip on it.

“Is this ok?” I had to ask. There’s no dignity in assuming.

“Yes,” he growled, pushing my hand down into his pants, “Just… oh gods-“

I put my hand around his dick, my fingers couldn’t even touch, that’s how thick it was. It was not going to fit all the way in my mouth. It’d be like trying to eat a fence post, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.

I put my thumb on the tip, rubbing the precum on the head, then licking my fingers, tasting his lust for me. Sizing it up, I licked the tip, then kissed it, trying to test my limits. Each time I touched a new area, he would quiver slightly. Had he ever even fucked anyone before? That was a nice thought… I’d take his virginity.

I tucked my teeth behind my lips and took the head of his dick into my mouth. I sucked slightly, relishing at the moment.

“Please…” He begged for me to take it deeper. I obliged, pushing my mouth further down the shaft, feeling the veins and curves with my tongue, sending him spiralling. For a man who’s killed entire countries, he was incredibly sensitive.

I started to bob my head on his dick. His hand flew to my head, grabbing my hair by the roots. He followed my lead and stayed still, breathing heavily as I got further down the shaft, close to the base.

Instead of waiting, he took it upon himself to thrust into my mouth and down my throat. I gagged hard, my eyes tearing up from the pressure. He slowed but did not fail to push himself deep into my throat over and over again.

He pulled out, panting. “Techno…” I moaned. I was starting to sit in a pool of slick, my body preparing for his entrance. I could feel my insides tense up and release over and over, gripping around nothing, desperate for his dick.

“Fuck me, Techno…” I muttered.

He picked me up from the waist, his dick still hard and pulsing. He carried me to the couch and flipped me onto my stomach, facing away from him. My legs hung off the end of the couch, spread to allow for easy access. I could hear my own heartbeat. I’d never had anyone inside of me, and he was a scary first-time.

“Go easy, Tech,” I said.

“I can’t make any promises,” He said, adding, “But if it’s too much, tell me to stop.”

He grabbed me by the hips, positioning himself behind me. The head of his dick was pressed to my hole, his hands digging into my sides, preparing for penetration.

I was soaking wet by now, practically dripping onto the carpet. Thank gods I was because he pushed in without warning.

“F-FUCK,” I screamed, the moans no longer being held back.

“Shh, Phil will hear you,” He whispered in my ear.

He pulled out and thrust in again. This time pleasure outweighed the pain. My insides were making room for his enormous penis. My walls gripped around him, trying to milk the cum out of him.

Now he started a rhythm, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was loud enough that Phil could definitely hear it. Techno was not going easy on me.

He pounded into me, rearranging my insides. Every thrust was met with an accompanying moan escaping from my mouth, loud and unrelenting. I held onto the couch for dear life and prayed to the gods I’d make it out of this able to walk.

My core tightened, signalling what was to come. He leaned over, his chest on my back like we were in bed, and he whispered praise into my ear.

“You’re so tight, ugh”, “You’re doing so well,”, “I’m gonna cum into you”, “I’m gonna make you quiver and scream in ecstasy, baby”, “be a good bird and cum for me, huh?”

He was so close, and I was close behind. His thrusts lost rhythm as he lost his sense of words. They became spastic, spaced randomly, going down to the base every time. His moans and grunts were getting louder and my moans had turned into whines.

I felt my eyes water as the pressure in my gut built. He thrust in hard a few more times, sending me over the edge.

“Techno, ah, fuck… AAAAH!” I screamed. My legs shook as my body tensed up, squeezing his dick inside of me, he pulled out and pushed back in again as I shuttered under him.

“I’m - ‘m gonna,” he stuttered. He shoved himself all the way in, pushing everything inside of me out of the way. I felt the liquid fill me up, his cum hitting my walls and making me shake uncontrollably. He held my hand as I continued to moan and whine, overstimulated from his load.

“Holy… shit,” He huffed.

“T-Techno,” He was still inside of me, shooting another rope of cum into me.

“Fu-uck.”

My orgasm ended with a final squeeze, leaving me to quiver below him as he came. Eventually, he pulled out. I felt empty but more full than I was before he went in. His cum was still sloshing around inside of me. I rolled over to look at him, our cum dripping out of me. He looked at me, no, through me. It was the face he made when he was thinking about the future, when he was testing his possibilities.

“Techno, I-“ I whined, still sensitive.

“This stays between us alone, alright?” He breathed.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said.

He laughed, now finally looking at me properly. I smiled and laughed back, just basking in the ridiculousness of what just happened. Part of me wished he picked me up and put me back on him. Another part of me wished I’d somehow end up carrying his children. The rational part of me was worried he’d shove this memory so far down that he’d forget about it completely. I wouldn’t let that happen.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin. The couch was a mess like someone had tipped it over and roughly put everything back in place. Oddly, nothing else was awry, and Techno was in the kitchen, making eggs like nothing ever happened.

The bird smiled at me, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was dishevelled, to say the least.

“What was all that screaming about? Did a creeper almost explode in here or something?”

Techno’s ears pinked, the bird responded, “No, Techno just scared me. I woke up and I just saw this silhouette standing over the bed. Apparently, he was not a demon, and I startled him more than I think he did me.”

“Jesus, you have to stop standing creepily in people’s peripheral, Techno.” I laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they were awake. They were completely hidden under the pile of blankets.” Techno responded, not looking back at me. I detected a hint of deceit but brushed it off.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flowy things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION BRRRRRRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie: Part 22 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, 80s typical views on homosexuality (but no homophobia just,,,,as accepting as the 80s could be)

Word Count: 2958

This chapter is pretty much exposition/a feel good chapter because we need a break from the tension and also because I said so. Also, the boys are not straight, but it's the 80s so they don't talk about it.

You were stuck back at the cave as the boys took Michael to the bridge, but you knew they wouldn't be taking you. They hadn't taken Laddie or Star, and it would look out of place if they'd taken you. You were almost tempted to make a joke that they wouldn't understand. August 1st, 1987 was a Saturday, but memes didn't exactly exist yet. So, you sat on the couch and tried your best to make a dent in the holy grail of chinese food that Marko had picked up. But, no matter how much you ate, you could still feel something eating you up inside. 

You had to let Michael and Star turn. Diverting from the plot too much would've made it so none of you would know what was next. It was better to follow the story so you'd know what to expect rather than going in blind. You stabbed your takeout a little harder than you needed to as you reminded yourself that. No matter how bad you felt, this was what needed to be done. You just hoped that, before this was all over, you could find a way to apologize to Star and Michael. 

You hadn't heard Star come over to you. You knew that she had probably already tucked Laddie in for an early night, and it wasn't until she was standing right in front of you that you looked up. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was gnawing on her lip. For a moment, you thought perhaps it had been a bad idea for the boys to leave you alone with her. Your mind flashed back to what had happened nearly a month ago, but then Star said,

"How could you? Why did you? You didn't say anything- You-" She threw her hands, frustration clear in her voice. She looked close to tears, and the lump in your throat seemed to only grow larger. "You didn't even try to stop them." She said, but her voice was shaking. You gulped, setting your takeout aside. You were vaguely aware that Star was a half. She was stronger than you, and could probably snap at any moment. You had to be careful, but it seemed you'd gotten your wish a little quicker than you'd thought. You didn't know what to say, but you still stood. She backed away, giving you a small amount of distance and a chance to explain yourself. 

"Star, I didn't-" You started, but you quickly stopped yourself. You had to choose your words carefully, and you decided that lying wasn't the way to go. You were aware of some of the boys abilities, but not of all of them. Whether it was just the boys or not, they always seemed to know when you were telling a lie. And, at the end of the day, you knew the boys were going to change him. So, you whispered a quiet, "I'm sorry." And reached out to hold her clenched hands. You held them for a moment, and finally she relaxed them to take yours instead. She sighed, her body relaxing. While she didn't tell you that she forgave you, you didn't expect her to hold it against you for long. After a moment, she asked again,

"Why? Why didn't you say anything?" And you bit your lip. This was a hard one, but you couldn't just not answer. With the way she looked at you, her brown eyes imploring you to answer. Tears gathering in them. You sighed yourself, cursing her and the way she tugged on your heartstrings. Though, you knew she deserved an explanation.

"I'm," You paused to find the words, glancing away to collect your thoughts. "I'm not in the position to really tell them no, Star. I mean, I'm not-" You tried to find an excuse, one that wasn't Max. That wasn't that you weren't from this world. That wasn't that you were trying to save the boys. "I'm not the one that tells them what to do, or- Or, decides what happens. I'm just-" You hinted as vaguely as you could at the existence of Max, but it was still a weak excuse. You knew she would probably just end up asking why you weren't in that position anyways. To her knowledge, you were the girlfriend to three of them. Surely, you had some level of weight in their decisions. Finally, you came to a solid excuse. "I'm not one of you." You said. It was the best you could come up with, and she sniffled as the look in her eyes changed. It was one of confusion, even if she knew that was true. Then, after a moment, realization filled them. Her grip was tighter as she held your hands, and she let out a small, 

"Oh." Now, it was your turn to be confused. She had given your hands a squeeze, before she dropped them altogether and went to wrap them around your shoulders. She pulled you in for a tight hug, and you awkwardly returned it. You hadn't thought that your response would've worked that well. You didn't know what she was assuming, but you let it slide. Whatever it took to get her to stop asking hard questions, you supposed. She even reached up to pet the back of your head, whispering, "I didn't- I'm- I guess, we're in this together then, huh?" She asked, and you tried not to seem too confused when she pulled away to look at you. You, out of instinct, gave her a nod, and then whispered,

"Yeah." She nodded back, petting your cheek before she took a step back. Her hand slid down from your cheek, down your arm, before she took your hand. Her cold fingers nearly made you shiver, and she gave your hand another squeeze.

"We'll take care of eachother, yeah?" She asked, and you looked between her eyes at the way she stared at you. It was intense, the look in her chocolate brown colored eyes. The slightest tinge of a smile was on her lips, and it compelled you to agree. Finally, after a moment, you gave her another nod. It felt weird, like this exchange had more weight than you'd meant for it to have. But, you thought having Star for an ally wasn't exactly a bad decision. Perhaps it would make it easier to convince Michael that the boys weren't as terrible as he would later think. All you had to do was convince Star first. 

"And she didn't kiss you?" Paul asked later that night. You were telling the boys about it after they'd returned, and both Star and Laddie had fell asleep. Paul was laying on the bed, playing with your jacket while Marko sat next to you, leaning into you. Dwayne sat behind the three of you, back near the pillows with his back against the wall. He reached over, smacking Paul's head. Paul whined, rubbing the spot as he said, "What? I'm just saying! She totally kissed Michael first and it just seems like if I was in her shoes, I would've totally taken that moment to make a move!" You turned your head as Dwayne said,

"Well, Stars not you, dumbass. Plus, she's probably straight." He said, making a point of the word. But Paul scoffed and Marko grinned while he shook his head. Paul, looked up at the brunette, saying,

"If Star's straight, then so is David." And you covered your mouth to muffle your laughter as you looked at the platinum blonde. Marko and Paul didn't even attempt to, even as David narrowed his eyes at both of the blondes. Paul continued with, "I mean, c'mon, David. You have a type. You put that Jim Morrison poster up and Michael's a dead-ringer, so we get it! There's no shame in that!" As the other two died from laughter. David lifted his cigarette to his lips, and then blew smoke at Paul. If he was closer, he probably would've aimed for his face.

"Whatever, Paul. I'll remember this the next time I catch you checking out some guys ass." David retorted, and Paul didn't even look perturbed by his words. He simply shrugged and held up his hands.

"Some dudes have nice asses. Am I supposed to not look?" He asked, and this earned an eye roll from the blonde besides you. When Paul noticed, he balked at the curly-haired blonde. "Oh, don't you try to pretend to be Mr. Heterosexual in front of the babe, Marko. You totally sucked-" But you raised your hands to diffuse the conversation, and escalating voices, before the sun went down. All conversation on the fluidity of their sexualities aside, you had brought this up for a reason. 

"So, what do you think?" You asked David. You hadn't really known what to make of Stars words, and you stared at the boy for some guidance. He was clearly thinking it over, smoking his cigarette as he did so. You had given up on trying to enforce any rules about smoking in your room, to the point where Dwayne even had a cigarette burning in-between his fingers. Finally, he shrugged and said,

"She sees you as her friend. Maybe as someone she can relate to. I don't see any harm in that. As long as you don't plan on switching sides." He said, flicking the end of his cigarette. You scoffed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. 

"Oh, yeah. I'm totally ditching you guys for the Frogs." You said sarcastically, and David smiled at your joke. It was nice to see him smile, and you felt as though you hadn't, at least genuinely, seen him do it in awhile. You smiled back, and then asked, "So, how'd it go with Michael?" And you heard a telling chuckle come from all of them. Paul sat up, holding his hands out as he said,

"Michael totally almost pissed himself when the train came." He said, before the boys erupted into a chorus of laughter at the memory. You smiled, finding their laughter contagious. Though, you still felt the need to comment,

"You guys seem to be enjoying this hazing thing, huh?" You asked. You knew that they had to do it for the sake of the movie, but none of them seemed nearly as hung up about it as you did. Well, as much as Star had been making you feel about it. Marko nudged you with his shoulder, saying,

"Well, he totally kills David in that movie, babe. It's nice to get some payback." He said, and you hummed. You supposed he deserved it if you thought about it that way. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Well, he's not going to this time, so don't do anything you don't have to." You said, and they all more or less agreed. It didn't take long after that for Paul to attempt to kick everyone out, but his attempts were proven to be futile when Marko reminded him of their new sleeping arrangements. Paul whined, cuddling up next to you and pulling you close. Eventually, after a brief shared look with Marko, you proposed the idea of Paul staying with you as well. He was quick to agree, and, that night, you laid on your back to accommodate the two sleeping vampires. At one point throughout the day, Marko said,

"Paul, that's me you're grabbing." And both you sleepily giggled at the sound of Pauls hand moving against the sheet as he retracted it, and the small, 

"Oh." That escaped his lips.

The next night was slow. All they needed to do was scare the shit out of Michael and Sam, and then visit Max while Michael went to lay the moves on Star. You, unfortunately, were in a very awkward position. You could come with them when they went to harass the Emerson's, but you definitely couldn't come with them to Max's. And, the boys couldn't necessarily drop you off and pick you back up from the cave, just because Michael would be there. The idea of you hanging out at the boardwalk and waiting for them had been tossed around, but it wasn't until that night that you really considered it. You did not want to be in the cave when Michael came to make his moves. Suddenly, you understood a little bit of how Star must've felt the past few months. 

So, with far too little enthusiasm, you decided that you would wait on the boardwalk for them. You'd kissed them each goodbye, as you didn't have an audience of half-vampires to see it. But, now that you were there, you wholeheartedly regretted that decision. You popped your collar up against the nights chill, doing your best to protect your neck as you walked through the crowds. It was busy, as busy as usual. 

You had walked up and down the boardwalk a million times, but only once without the boys by your side. And never at night. Most of the surf-nazi's stayed in the water during the day, but you quickly found out that they flocked to the boardwalk at night. You didn't know if it was just a build-up of nerves from the movie or if it was the fact that your boys weren't with you, but you practically scurried away the second you heard the sound of a group of teenage to twenty-something year olds gathering on the boardwalk. After wandering around the boardwalk for a little while, you passed the Frogs comic store. Inside, you could hear Alan say,

"Okay, we'll come over and do it for you." And your ears perked. You paused for a moment near the outside stack, listening to Edgar say,

"Well, you better get a garlic tshirt, buddy, or it's your funeral." Edgar hung up the phone that they'd been previously crowded around, and you saw the pair of them notice you. They didn't look pleased to see you, and you guessed your biweekly visits turning into nearly daily wasn't exactly a welcome sight. You didn't spare them a smile, and you simply let the comics slip back into their spots before you turned and walked away. The Frogs' eyes followed you the entire time until you were no longer in sight.

When the boys finally caught up with you only about an hour and a half later, you were relieved at the sight of them. The five of you were able to have a night alone, and, after the usual rounds, you decided to ditch the boardwalk for one of your favorite all-night diners.

You squeezed into a corner booth, getting stuck between Marko and David. The five of you ate, laughed, and, finally, relaxed. It felt nice to let loose, and you took the opportunity to lay your head on David's shoulder as you laughed along with your boys. You were able to hold David's hand, and you didn't have to consciously think about monitoring your actions. It felt good. Nice. They played rounds of paper football, and Marko started an almost violent game of spitball. It only ended when one of them spit one at Dwayne and it got caught in his hair, and he even sent you a look when you couldn't stop giggling.

While you were having a good time, you knew that, eventually, the four of them had to eat. And you knew diner food wasn't going to help. So, after lots of promising to Paul, you were allowed one more solo ride on his bike. Even after you'd kissed and said goodbye to all of them, he stood in front of you, held the handlebars, and stared at you with the most serious expression you'd ever seen on his face.

"You did good last time, but that doesn't mean you should be any less careful. Darling? Sugar? Pudding pop? I love you, but, please, don't crash my baby." You gave him a small smile, and a small tilt of your head. You were almost positive that he hadn't even realized he'd said those words to you, and you leaned forward to press a kiss on one cheek, the other cheek, and then on his lips. It made his serious expression falter, and you could tell he was melting by how his arms began to buckle. 

"I promise, okay? I love you too." You told him, your voice quieting as you returned the words. You watched his brain short-circuit and quickly reboot, trying its best to comprehend what had just happened. You didn't warn him that Marko and Dwayne were walking closer, as he was far too busy to notice. Before he could say anything else, Dwayne grabbed him by the back of his jacket and yanked him away from the bike. 

"She's not gonna crash it, dude. Just let her ride. Now, I'm starving, so c'mon. Bye, babe." Marko said, half-dragging half-leading Paul towards his bike. You mouthed a "thank you" to the both of them, and called a final goodbye to all of them as you pulled your helmet on. They watched as you revved the engine to life, and then lurched forward to head towards Hudson's Bluff. You didn't see how Paul swayed for a moment, a wistful smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over in his mind. He turned to the boys, a bigger grin growing on his face. 

"Did you guys hear that?" He asked, and they almost wished you hadn't said it just so they wouldn't have to hear Paul talk about it the entire ride to the beach. Whether that was out of annoyance or envy, they preferred not to think about it.

[21u004]

the last / okkotsu yuuta / april 4th, 2021

okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but he learned to love it when he once watched it rise with you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but he’s willing to take them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but he’s willing to make as many as he can to wake up with you.

yuuta is not an early bird, but at 5 in the morning, fully-dressed and awake, he’s in front of an old convenience store, six feet away from where you sat down.

reluctant to call out your name, his gaze and shoulders heavy with unnecessary guilt.

he eventually greets you.

“good morning,” he tells you at 5:16 a.m.

his voice is raspy, possibly from how it’s only been 53 minutes since he woke up.

you don’t mind it anyways; you’ve gotten used to hearing its soft whispers of “good morning” whenever he comes by your place to pick you up, or the lighthearted bursts of laughter when he finds himself in a stupid situation, or how he leans into your ear to tell you how wonderful you look when it’s too crowded and you’re struck with unpleasant thoughts.

it takes you minutes to reply, hesitant and distracted with thoughts wondering why he was here even if it had been you that called him over last night.

he figures you haven’t noticed him yet, so he takes three steps towards you.

one for each year you both spent calling and finding home in each other.

the first year, when you first ask him to go stargazing with you even though there were barely even stars at night with how bright the city is.

the second year, when he’s not-so-shy to let you know about how he carries an extra scarf from fall until spring because he’s memorized your forgetfulness.

the third year, when things start to fall apart, but you’re both still able to mend it back together. (or pretend that it’s fixed.)

and the fourth—

“you really came, huh,” your voice is low and almost inaudible except for the pained chuckle at the end of your sentence.

full of regret, your head hangs low. maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have invited him.

he was stupid to have actually come anyway.

and honestly, he didn’t want to come had it been someone else that invited him out at morning.

but it’s you who invited him, and he’s never been able to say no to you. not when he doesn’t like seeing you disappointed.

“of course,” he lowers his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you without feeling his head and chest ache every second. “you know i’d never flake out on you.”

—then why was there never a fourth year?

something stings your eyes and blur your vision for a moment.

they’re gone when you blink, leaving behind a wet trail down your cheek that was quick to dry when the breeze passes you by.

a sore, forced laugh leaves your lips, followed by a cough that has him rushing to your side and patting your back gently while worried eyes watch over you for every second that passed by.

“are you okay?” despite his hoarse and harsh-sounding voice, his tone is sweet and mellow, dipped in genuine concern, rough hands handling you delicately.

everything’s silent other than your cough resonating in the empty parking lot and his soft pats on your back ringing in your ears. it remains empty aside from the two of you.

too bad it wasn’t open for 24 hours so that there would be a few vehicles around or aisles for you to hide behind and then you wouldn’t have to face him.

that’s what you’ve always done though.

run away from reality and its problems.

it’s time for you to face it again.

“sorry,” you cough into your elbow. “yeah, i’m fine.”

yuta knows about how often you lie about your condition, so he asks one more time in hopes of getting an honest answer.

a nod is all he gets. he doesn’t question you again.

he wants to though.

he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you two can try again.

still, he doesn’t because he knows that he’s going to get both a ‘yes’ and a 'no’, and he knows which answer belonged to which question.

backing away from you, he sits when he deems the distance between you two not too far nor too close. you’re more than a hand’s reach, and that’s enough for him. he wants to be closer, but to have you around is already enough for him.

it’s already 5:28.

time passes too quickly.

despite wanting to cherish the moment, sit in silence and hopefully, peace as well, he stops his stalling and questions your need to see him in the morning when there’s so much more time left on the clock.

as he’s fulfilled your desire to meet him, you fulfill his of basking in the stillness of the world—with you.

you, and not someone else.

you, because you’re the one he wants to have around.

you, because he—

—loves you.

he loves you, and not someone else, because he can’t see himself with anyone else other than you.

(and he’ll keep on loving you, even if you tell him to stop for his sake and yours.)

“do you still remember?” you mumble in your folded arms on your knees. “when we first met.”

of course he does. it was somewhat unusual and unforgettable aside from the fact that the place you’re both at right now is where you two met.

a cold, lonely dawn spent at an empty parking lot of a convenience store. two kids feeling empty and drained until he decided to strike up a conversation with you, wondering why you were there when you could ask him the same. neither of you judged each other about it though, understanding one another regardless being in different situations.

that’s when you both got on the same vehicle and drove to a road that led to now.

it was like any other roadtrip, fun yet tiring, but neither of you realized that when everything was romanticized since the moment you two got on. it really was stupid of you two to think that meeting at a convenience store was romantic because it’s not.

it really was stupid of you to ignore the warning signs.

“yeah,” scratching his nape, he tilts his head to get a glimpse of your face, but he only sees your back. “we danced around even though there wasn’t any music playing.”

“it was dumb,” you turn away from him as if you were going to get the urge remake the mistakes you made then if you saw his undeniably pretty features.

“it was fun though,” a shy, embarrassed smile tugs at his lips. he hopes you’re smiling too.

“wanna do it again?”

this was dumber.

though you’re not going to make the same mistakes again. this was the end already, after all. there’s no more mistakes to be made when there’s no choices to be made.

the deep inhale of the cold air stings your lungs as you finally face him for the first time today, standing up and holding a hand out to him.

he swallows the last bit of hesitance that was preventing him from taking your hand, then starts to pull you into him.

“still no music?” one of his hands run to your waist.

you answer him as he’s about to intertwine his other with yours by taking out your phone and a slow, gloomy melody begins to play. it echoes in the empty space lightly when you settle it on the cold cement floor.

no comments were made about the choice of music. his hand rests on your waist while yours on his shoulder, the others laced together.

for a moment, you’re both back to the start.

dwelling in the glum atmosphere, savoring each other’s company.

still unable to look each other in the eye so you two opt for the ground or anywhere other than the eyes or face. stiffly and awkwardly swaying, feet pausing every few seconds in doubt, choosing which steps to take because it’s not used to dancing.

bathing in the lowlight of mornings that turn into something better because that’s what you two are good at: romanticizing the hopeless and the unromantic.

“i wanted to have a last dance with you,” you mutter, afraid he hears it. “that’s why.”

with the little space between your bodies, he does hear it. like your first meeting, he doesn’t judge you for it. he likes dancing with you anyways.

“it doesn’t have to be the last one,” he wishes to say but it remains as a thought, the lack of courage not allowing him to use his voice. knowing he’s going to regret doing so later, he still keeps them to himself.

so instead, he says something else.

“we can always dance again, if you’d like.”

fuck.

that’s even worse. (is it?)

on his shoulder, he feels your fingers claw at him. he wasn’t supposed to say that. at least he doesn’t mind it, but maybe you do.

you said it yourself, this was the last. maybe you said that because you didn’t want to anymore, he overthinks.

with closed eyes, your fingers loosen up on the cotton material, relaxing and exhaling slowly through your nose.

“that's—” he tenses up at your voice.

“that’s cool.”

did he hear you right?

“i don’t mind dancing with you again but,” the corner of your lips curl up, a burning sensation in your lungs when you inhale the cold morning air and finish your sentence. “someone might.”

someone, meaning the person you see himself with in your stead. the person whom you’re convinced is better than you. the person whom you’re convinced is more fitting for him, unlike you.

your eyes meet, and he can see through you.

you always lied about how you felt, until now.

it’s all obvious with the way your voice stutters, eyes falter, and hands tremble; with how you avoid his gaze as much as you can because it’s become unbearable to look at him without having your heart be spared from being torn into little pieces.

yuuta’s done beating around the bushes. biting his lip, his hands squeeze your waist and hand, his gaze shaky.

“you didn’t have to end this.”

having enough of it, too much for him to contain, he bursts into tears and lays his head on your shoulder, shuddering and holding onto you tightly, as if that was ever going to stop you from letting go.

“it was better for the both of us.”

the music gets drowned out by his choked sobs, the sky growing a little brighter than before each minute.

the sun rises slowly and lights up the dark corners of the world, and there’s nothing you can do but watch another day begin again.

there’s nothing you can do to stop yuuta crying.

there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling out of love.

(and even if you could prevent it, the road was always going to lead here.)

and as your shoulder gets soaked in tears, while you softly tug at the black tufts of his hair, you remember that there never was a fourth year because you—your insecurities—cut it off before he could. (because he never would, and neither would you.)

at your reply, he wonders why he even came here in the first place. was it because he was hopeful that you’d take him back again? (definitely.)

it’s too early for this, and okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but today, he did just for you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but today, he took them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but last night, he made as many as he could to make sure he doesn’t wake up late and make you wait for nothing.

yuuta is not an early bird, so he faces the consequences of being left.

(while he’s busy facing his consequences, you’re facing yours: having to wake up knowing he’s someone else’s because of you.)

(you never wanted to leave, but it was better than to have him abandon you.)

(even if he never was going to.)

[yamag00ps]

safekeeping

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: friends to lovers, love triangle

contains: fluff

word count: 1.1k

summary:  bokuto and akaashi talk about you on the car ride home.

note: here is part 2 of first names! I decided to continue. enjoy :-)

part 1, part 3, part 4

The rest of the car ride consisted of you speaking a majority of the time while the other two listened, though you just assumed it was due to the long day of shopping. As the car stopped in front of your apartment, you reached over your seat to hug Bokuto goodbye and ruffled a hand in his hair. You and Akaashi stepped out of the car as you gathered your shopping bags.

“Do you need any help?” Akaashi asked.

“Nah they’re actually really light, but thank you!” You hugged him too. Akaashi took his seat and shut the door as Bokuto rolled down Akaashi’s window.

“Bye Bo!” Bokuto smiled at the nickname you gave him.

“Bye Keiji,” your gaze lingered a second longer on Akaashi as you put a knuckle out, waiting for him to return the punch. It was your subtle, yet innocent way of acknowledging the newfound closeness between the two of you.

Akaashi slightly winced at his first name, choosing not to look at Bokuto’s expression this time. The two of them waved as they waited for you to get into the building before driving off.

Thankfully, Bokuto spoke up before an awkward silence could take over. Bokuto has always been very open about his emotions, which Akaashi was particularly thankful for at this moment.

“So… Keiji, huh?”

“Yeah, about that.” Akaashi was ready to tell his best friend everything until Bokuto continued talking.

“I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a slap in the face,” he nervously laughed, “It came out of nowhere! I don’t even call you that!” Bokuto’s seemingly lighthearted demeanor put Akaashi on edge because for once, he couldn’t tell if it was a front or not. But Akaashi genuinely chuckled anyway, remembering how it began in the first place. All he had to do was be honest.

“It started out as a joke. We were arguing —well, she was arguing— about whether or not the chicken or the egg came fir—“

“The chicken.” Bokuto stated matter-of-factly. Akaashi laughed at this.

“..Yup. She made that very clear.”

“The theory of evolution, right?” Bokuto grinned at this memory while Akaashi’s smile faltered.

Oh.  

“Uh, yeah,” a nervous chuckle escaped Akaashi’s lips. It was his turn to feel a slap in the face.

Bokuto didn’t mean to hurt Akaashi by revealing that he already had a similar conversation with you. And it shouldn’t be that surprising, Bokuto knew you first.

So, why did Akaashi feel a bit hollow all of a sudden? It was a feeling similar to growing attached to a stray puppy, only to find out that its owners were looking for it. Or also kind of like when someone sends you a Spotify playlist titled, “for you” only to find that it already has 7 followers. Whatever it was, it was unpleasant.

He also couldn’t settle on an emotion. Was he sad? Jealous? Did he somehow feel played, even though he’s sure that wasn’t your intention? If Bokuto noticed the change in his expression, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“We learned about that in our bio class last year. The chicken or egg debate got her pretty heated and for some reason, I found that so attractive,” Bokuto shook his head and laughed. “I then learned that she wasn’t even a science major! That was probably the best part.”

This memory was enough to convert Bokuto back to his normal self, temporarily forgetting about the use of first names. Akaashi, on the other hand, felt the tension thicken internally.

He stayed silent, only politely chuckling here and there, wanting nothing more than for Bokuto to stop elaborating on his feelings for you.

“I don’t think I ever told you, but she used to scare me! She was so smart— is so smart. And, don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful, but after hearing the way she spoke? That’s what really got me, dude.” He shook his head in disbelief at how smitten he was. “I was actually annoyed that the professor made us change the subject because I could’ve listened to her all day.”

At this point, Bokuto was too caught up in the memory of you to notice Akaashi’s discomfort. This was the most he has heard of his best friend’s feelings.  Before today, all he knew was that Bokuto had taken an interest in you and enjoyed your company. Yes, Bokuto talked about you occasionally, but Bokuto also had a lot of crushes, so Akaashi rarely took his friend’s pining seriously.

He continued, “You know, I think I’d pay to listen to her talk about the different species of.. I don’t know.. Grass.” Akaashi snickered at this. “I don’t know, I’ve never met anyone like her man.”

This time Akaashi sighed and responded honestly, “I can say the same. She’s funny.” Bokuto laughed and agreed.

Hearing Bokuto confess that all he wanted to do was listen to someone speak was new, seeing as he was usually the most talkative one in any room.

“Why haven’t you confessed to her?” Akaashi finally asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. Bokuto thought about this for a bit. His best friend had a point, he normally had no issue going after whoever he took interest in.

Bokuto thought back to the memory of hearing you speak in class -- the way your voice refused to waver and the way you stood your ground over something so silly. He remembered you glancing at him, waiting for him to chime in like he normally would. Any other day, he would’ve joined the conversation, but for the first time, he found himself incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Because for the first time I’m actually scared to be rejected,” Bokuto admitted.

This sheer honesty only made Akaashi feel worse -- the two of them growing more fond of you by the minute. Relief washed through him as Bokuto answered a phone call, not giving Akaashi the chance to respond.

Well.. shit.

What was Akaashi supposed to tell him now? He didn’t even know if he, himself, genuinely liked you yet, did he? Though it wouldn't be that shocking if it turned out that he did, he decided he needed more time to sort through his own feelings. Maybe he simply felt comfortable with you and it was nothing more. Maybe.

He closed his eyes and ignored the sweet aftertaste of your first name lingering in his mouth, and the way that nothing has felt more natural than your hand in his. He shook the memory of his fingers tracing his name onto your back and the way you tried not to melt into his touch. He attempted to shut down the desire to hold you in any way you would let him and mentally discarded the image of you glowing in the sun the first time you used his given name. He especially tried to forget how he was so sure that whatever higher power designed the sun probably used you for reference.

Akaashi shoved all of this information far away into an imaginary filing cabinet in his head.

You know, just for safekeeping.

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

a/n: I decided to continue this! yay! I am planning on adding more, but I can't promise how soon I'll get to writing it. please be patient with me <3 (find me on ao3!) 

[robininthelabyrinth]

prompt: after their father died, the Nie bros were raised by Wen Ruohan, and are forced to survive in the backstabbing tangle of Nightless City politics.

Congratulations! You have also won the “I didn’t mean to write this much” fic prompt lottery, to the tune (again) of about 30k. I hope you enjoy!

Note: any fic warnings will be only on Ao3

-

Fire and Light (ao3) - part 1

“It’ll be all right,” Nie Mingjue murmured to Nie Huaisang, who was curled in his arms, shaking and terrified. The carriage rumbled and lurched around them, traveling down the long path to the Nightless City, where they would now be staying. “It’ll be all right. We’ll manage, somehow.”

He didn’t believe a word he said, of course. How could everything be all right?

Their father was dead. Murdered – it was rather unquestionable at this point. Wen Ruohan had broken his saber from a distance, driving him mad, and Nie Mingjue had known it was Wen Ruohan, but no one had believed him. No one had wanted to help, to intervene, to take action. Even at home, they’d just started resigning themselves to having to take care of Lao Nie as he died by inches when the murderer himself had shown up at the Unclean Realm to ‘help’ them in their moment of need.

Even half-mad, their father had tried to fight back.

Wen Ruohan had put him down like a rabid dog, wringing his neck and tossing him aside.

He’d then announced that Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, now orphans, would be brought back to the Nightless City and taken into the Wen sect to be his wards, to be appropriately reeducated and brought up well. Brought up properly.

And as for the rest of the Nie sect –

At least they survived, Nie Mingjue reminded himself. Even if they have to work for the Wen sect, even if the sun banner flies in the Unclean Realm…at least they’re not dead.

At least Huaisang is with me.

He didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. He didn’t think it would be anything good.

-

Their rooms in the Nightless City were large, but cold.

They were wards of the great Sect Leader Wen, they were told when they arrived. That meant that they would be treated with respect, as if they were truly young masters of the Wen sect. They would get the best tutors, the best clothing, the best food and drink…they would be masters of the world, if only they bowed their heads and were obedient.

(If they were not obedient, they would be punished. The exact nature of that punishment remained – unspecified.)

“Are they going to hurt us?” Nie Huaisang whispered late at night, curled up in Nie Mingjue’s bed. He’d been hiding in his own, shaking and terrified, until Nie Mingjue had crept out to check on him, daring the unspecified punishment if it meant confirming his brother was all right. Obviously Nie Mingjue couldn’t leave him like that, so he’d brought him back. “Are they going to do to us what they did to a-Die?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, with moderate confidence. “They’re not. They’ve put in too much effort, made this all too public, to kill us now. Though I’m not ruling out the possibility that they might freeze us to death by accident. How is it so cold here? It’s south of Qinghe! The climate should be more temperate, not less! And have they never heard of tapestries?”

“Da-ge…”

“Don’t think I don’t feel those ice-blocks you call feet at my waist!”

Nie Huaisang giggled, as Nie Mingjue had intended. “You’re being silly, da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue pretended to huff angrily, tossing his head like a bull, and it made Nie Huaisang giggle again, the way it always had. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll keep you warm, I guess. It’s my duty as your da-ge, isn’t it?”

“What’s my duty?” Nie Huaisang wanted to know.

“To be my spoiled brat of a didi, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, the way he always did, but this time Nie Huaisang shook his head in denial.

“Now that we’re here,” he clarified, looking at Nie Mingjue with wide, trusting eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

Nie Mingjue knew, as Nie Huaisang did not, why their lives had been spared: it all lay in that word, reeducated. They would be indoctrinated into Wen sect beliefs, Wen sect customs, and by the time they were sent back to rule Qinghe as Wen Ruohan’s puppets, they would be more Wen than Nie. Even for him, it would be difficult to resist; for someone as young as Nie Huaisang, with his childish memories already slipping through his fingers like sand, it would be virtually impossible.

Asking him to resist would serve no purpose but to torment him when he inevitably failed.

“Be happy, didi,” he finally said, and pressed his lips to Nie Huaisang’s forehead. “Be happy as you can, as you always have. Don’t let them take away your smile.”

-

The next day, they were introduced to Wen Xu and Wen Chao, the actual young masters of Qishan, sons of Wen Ruohan. Wen Xu was a handful of years older than Nie Mingjue, eighteen to his nearly-fifteen, while Wen Chao was less than two years older than Nie Huaisang. Neither of them seemed happy to see them, scowls fixed firmly on their faces, sneers of disdain twisting their lips.

“Do you train the saber?” Wen Xu asked Nie Mingjue, who raised an eyebrow of ‘what do you think I train’ in return. “A boorish weapon, but then I suppose your ancestors were butchers.”

“I look forward to taking classes with you,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking to himself that one didn’t have to be especially clever to know the history the Nie sect proudly proclaimed at every turn. “They’re clearly very enriching.”

Wen Xu blinked at him and then turned his face away, his lips pressed together – whether in annoyance or, possibly, a sense of humor very deeply buried, it was difficult to tell.

“Father has expectations of you,” he finally said instead of responding to Nie Mingjue’s jibe, and there was no humor in his face now. “You’ll meet them, of course.”

Unspoken was that they couldn’t afford not to. Either of them.

Nie Mingjue lowered his head. His entire sect – all his cousins, aunts, uncles, whether surnamed Nie or not – were back in Qinghe, closely watched by Wen sect commanders. There was a sword to their throat, and therefore also to his.

He, too, could not afford to disappoint Wen Ruohan.

Wen Xu’s shoulders relaxed a little when he saw Nie Mingjue’s submission – he had clearly been charged with their care, and had just as clearly worried about his ability to fulfill his mission should they choose to rebel – and he nodded, more to himself than to them. “There’s classrooms, and training grounds,” he said. “I’ll show you where they are, as well as the dining room – there are set times for meals, and attendance is mandatory – and of course the necessaries. You don’t need more than that, at least to start.”

“Are there rules we should keep in mind?” Nie Mingjue asked, thinking about his brief visit to Gusu.

“Many,” Wen Xu said. His expression was stormy. “Some of them are even spoken aloud.”

-

“Da-ge! Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang ran up to him, lip quivering and eyes glistening wet with tears. It was a very sad, even heart-rending sight; it used to send Nie Mingjue into a frenzy to see him like that. But by now he’d learned better and he didn’t even blink, even though Wen Xu faltered, his sword twisting off in the middle of their spar as if he expected Nie Mingjue to lose focus at a key moment and injure himself. He wouldn’t, of course, and he instead used the moment to tap Wen Xu’s sword pointedly with Baxia, claiming the point. “Da-ge, I fell down again!”

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue said to Wen Xu, and turned to kneel before Nie Huaisang. “Did you, now?”

“Uh-huh!”

“And did you hurt yourself?”

“I did!” Nie Huaisang stuck his hand out. There was, maybe, a bruise on his wrist. If one squinted. It was probably just mud, actually. “It hurts awful, da-ge. Kiss it better?”

“That doesn’t really work,” Wen Chao scoffed, only a few steps behind Nie Huaisang.

“Shut up, it does,” Nie Huaisang shot back, temporarily forgetting that he was supposed to be pitiful, and turned back to Nie Mingjue. “Well, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue nodded solemnly. “It’s my job,” he agreed, gathering Nie Huaisang up into his arms and pressing his lips to the ‘wound’, using the motion to infuse a little bit of spiritual energy as well. Not enough to actually make a difference, and certainly not enough to justify Nie Huaisang promptly declaring himself all better, but he liked to do it anyway – a little connection between them.

Wen Chao looked at them both in suspicion, his brow wrinkling. “That doesn’t really work,” he said again, but his voice was weaker this time, more questioning.

“It does too work,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Maybe if you’re really nice, I’ll let da-ge fix you up too next time you fall down.”

“I’m not going to fall down! I’m not a baby like you!”

“Everyone falls down sometimes. There’s nothing shameful about it,” Nie Mingjue said, and pointed to a bruise on his own face. “I myself fell down just a little while ago. Your brother helped. Several times.”

Wen Chao gaped at him, even as Nie Huaisang giggled.

“And Huaisang? You’re already very good at being a big baby and we all know it. You can stop practicing your skills at any time.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him, still laughing.

Nie Mingjue ruffled his hair and sent them both away, Nie Huaisang in the lead and Wen Chao following after, the latter shooting strange looks back at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder.

“You’re too soft on him,” Wen Xu said from behind him, even as Nie Mingjue rose to his feet. “He won’t thank you for it, later.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Later is later,” he said philosophically. “Now is now. Can you show me that move you did earlier, kicking out my feet? It was very well done.”

Wen Xu stared at him. “The one – where I knocked you to the ground?”

“That’s the one. Do it again, just slower; it’ll be hard for me to pick it up, otherwise.”

“You’re just asking – no, never mind. Don’t you care that I beat you with it?”

“…no?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. Was this some sort of weird Qishan Wen hang-up? “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t lose?”

“In training, like everyone else.”

“That’d only teach me how to win when everything goes right,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I want to learn how to win even when I’m losing. Here, you show me that and I’ll show you the trick I did this morning, with the disarming.”

Wen Xu tensed up. “I don’t need your tricks.”

I don’t need your pity, he meant, and Nie Mingjue didn’t understand him at all. Wen Xu was at home, his little brother safe, his sect secure – why would Nie Mingjue pity him?

“Consider it a favor to me, then,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking back to how his uncle used to handle the especially prickly tempers in their sect, which was never short on them. “My grasp on the move isn’t that good – teaching it to someone else is the best way for me to improve my own understanding.”

Wen Xu hesitated for a while, thinking it over as if he thought there was some sort trap in the offer – what trap it might be, Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure – but then he nodded.

“All right then,” he said arrogantly. “I won’t even count it as a favor. Consider it a gift, since you’re so new here.”

-

They were there for about a month by the time they met some other people their age.

It was enough time to start to get used to the monotony of it all. They woke up in the morning and were free until breakfast – Nie Mingjue often got in some extra saber training, Nie Huaisang usually slept in – at which point they would meet in the cold, miserable dining hall with enough space to fit two dozen people but which only ever had the four of them, being served by voiceless servants.

They would remain there for enough time to burn a stick of incense at minimum, half a shichen at the maximum, and then they would proceed to their classes. There would be alternating classes and training, all based on some mystifying schedule that seemed to change every day but which clearly had some sort of order based on the boredom with which the Wen heirs regarded it, but always lunch and dinner in the same cold dining room, all alone, same as ever.

It was therefore a surprise when they came down for breakfast and found two other children there: a pale-faced girl about Wen Chao’s age or a little older and a skinny, shy-looking boy closer to Nie Huaisang’s. They were wearing Wen colors, but that didn’t mean anything – so were the rest of them. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Nie Huaisang had been allowed to bring any of their Nie robes to the Nightless City other than the ones they’d been wearing, and those had been splattered with blood. Nie Mingjue had carefully preserved them and still intended on finding a time to go try to see if he could salvage them in the wash, just as soon as he figured out where the laundry was.

His own new robes, in garish Wen colors that made him feel sick every time he looked down, itched and pulled on his body when he moved – they were badly sized. It seemed the seamstresses of the Nightless City hadn’t been expecting someone of his size and shape, although the array of robes he’d found in the closet made him realize, with gut-churning nausea, that he had been expected, that Wen Ruohan had prepared in advance to receive his new wards long before he had committed the act of murder to obtain them.

He hadn’t complained about the discomfort of the badly sized clothing – he hadn’t dared – but Wen Xu had been irritable about it for days now. Based on his rants, it seemed like he suspected that someone had made the robes ill-fitting on purpose to restrict Nie Mingjue’s full range of motion, a scheme designed to make Nie Mingjue humiliate Wen Xu in front of his father when the right size clothing finally did come in.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the calculations Wen Xu made, the paranoia involved – who would do something like that? why? what would even be the point? – and he didn’t especially want to, either.

He looked at the other two children. The girl stared down at her food, not making eye contact, but the boy stole glances at him – perhaps he and Nie Huaisang were as much as of a surprise to them as they were to him.

“Good morning,” he said to them. “My brother and I are surnamed Nie. What about you?”

Wen Xu snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. “They’re Wen,” he said scathingly. “Our cousins, from one of collateral branches of the family; the ones in the mountains. Father has taken the two of them on as his wards on account of their unfortunate circumstances and promising talent.”

“Unfortunate circumstances?” Nie Huaisang wondered aloud, and Nie Mingjue sighed to himself at the sheer rudeness of the direct question. “What’s so unfortunate?”

“Our p-parents are dead,” the boy told him quietly, stuttering a little.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ours too.”

There was a moment of silence, the entire room disbelieving, and then Nie Mingjue started laughing.

The sound of his laughter verged on the hysterical, hurting his throat, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not because it was funny, of course, it wasn’t funny, would never be funny, it was still raw and burning and painful. It probably would be for the rest of his undoubtedly short life. But news travelled fast in the cultivation world, and while he couldn’t say for sure, Nie Mingjue suspected he’d be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t heard about Wen Ruohan murdering the old Nie sect leader and taking his children by now.

Judging by the horrified expressions on the Wen cousins’ faces, they definitely had, and the sheer awkwardness that paralyzed the entire room just made the entire thing pathetically – well, laughable.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang hissed, cheeks turning red, but he was smiling a little, too, mostly out of the infectiousness of Nie Mingjue’s laughter. “Don’t embarrass me!”

Nie Mingjue leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Extra etiquette lessons for a week.”

“No!”

“Someone has to teach you to think before you speak,” Nie Mingjue said, still chuckling involuntarily with the aftereffects of his bout of inappropriate humor. “Not every thought that passes through your brain has to reach your tongue, you know. Consider holding some back. Cultivate an aura of mystery.”

Nie Huaisang grumbled and went back to picking at his food.

“Aren’t you going to punish him?” the girl asked suddenly. She was staring straight at Nie Mingjue. “You didn’t embarrass him. He embarrassed you.”

“I’m his older brother,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “If he’s not embarrassed by me and I’m not mortified by him, something’s clearly wrong –”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed.

Nie Mingjue put some extra meat into his bowl to apologize for teasing, and Nie Huaisang subsided, making faces at him as he did.

“You’re weird,” Wen Chao announced.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think so, but all the Wens averted their eyes away from him as if they were silently agreeing, so maybe he was.

-

It turned out that the girl’s name was Wen Qing and the boy, her brother, was called Wen Ning.

“Don’t any of you have courtesy names?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little desperately, and it turned out that the Wen sect had the strange tradition of referring to people by their given names until they were properly acknowledged. Acknowledged as what wasn’t specified, but they all seemed to have a sense of definitiveness about it, as if expecting it to happen at some distant date.

Qinghe had the exact opposite tradition – given names were for immediate family only, sometimes a secret kept just to the parents, and everyone else went straight to using the courtesy name almost immediately after the first month ceremony.

“But you haven’t done anything by then,” Wen Ning said, worrying his lip with his teeth. Nie Huaisang had been devastated to discover that despite being small and thin as a stick, Wen Ning was exactly three weeks older than him – he’d been looking forward to calling someone didi for once, and now he was off sulking about finding himself the youngest yet again. Nie Mingjue was sure he’d get over it quickly. “Nothing impressive, nothing worthy of acclaim…what can a baby possibly do to deserve getting a name so early?”

“They were born, they are alive,” Nie Mingjue said. “What more do they need to do? Isn’t that worthy of recognition all on its own?”

He got strange looks again.

It turned out that Wen Qing was the talented one of the pair – she was training to be a doctor, and all her teachers spoke very highly of her.

“That’s wonderful,” Nie Mingjue said, and meant it. “Medical skills are a rare pearl that ought to be treasured; with the world always in need, there can never be too many doctors. I look forward to being treated by you in the future.”

Wen Qing blinked owlishly at him. It appeared that she was unaccustomed to praise.

“If you ever need someone to practice on, let me know,” he tried – he knew pretty words were far from his forte, and actions were better anyway – but that didn’t seem to help.

“I’m not good at anything,” Wen Ning volunteered, wringing his hands. “Jiejie refused to leave me at home by myself, but I’m not - good. At things.”

“Everyone is good at something,” Nie Mingjue assured him, the words coming much easier this time – he knew this particular routine well, given Nie Huaisang’s routinely poor physical performance in a sect that placed such a premium on it. “Some have strengths that are lauded by society, others merely ones that give color to it, but both are valuable and worthy of praise. You will find your talent, given time.”

Wen Ning appeared rather dazed by the concept. “But – what if I look for my talent and it turns out I really am no good at anything?”

“Then you’ll be good at being cared for,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “Someone has to keep us older siblings in business with something to do.”

“Oh,” Wen Ning said, hugging himself until his face turned red, and then he ran away.

Nie Mingjue watched him go, feeling a little helpless. He hadn’t meant at all to be cruel, or condescending, or whatever it was that had so affected Wen Ning. Why was it, he wondered, that whenever he addressed those surnamed Wen, everything he did seemed to end up having the wrong reaction?

[unstoppableforcce]

ghosts

CHAPTER ONE: nocturnal thoughts

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

next part | masterlist

a/n: so this was just supposed to be a little snippet where I expanded on a drabble I wrote for @tiffdawg around Halloween (👻) and it became a lot more ;) I have more ideas, I may or may not write them, feedback as always is appreciated !!

Nights like these were the worst kind. 

Faster than the wind could blow, whipping it’s way through the open windows of the jeep with a cool and haunting whistle, the hours got away from you, ticking away minute by minute until there was more moonlight in the sky then there were headlights in the streets, forcing you back on the same promise you made every morning. The same promise you hoped with every inch of your being, every ounce of your exhausted heart, that you might actually be able to keep. 

Every morning you promised. Every morning he believed you. 

And every night he ended up in bed. Alone. 

Shutting off your engine, you couldn’t stop yourself from dropping your forehead forward onto the wheel. The lights were already off, stealing a glance at the thick-banded watch suffocating your wrist after hours of wear, the lights had probably been off for a while at this point. He had given up on waiting up for you months ago, yet every morning you promised you’d be back, and every morning he believed you. 

Every. Single. Morning. 

Up until the second he found his way to the sheets of your shared bed alone, the sun long since setting, he believed you. That just made it hurt that much more. Every. Single. Night. 

Holding your hand as steady as you could possibly manage as you turned the lock over and fell into the apartment, there was still little you could do to silence every noise you were making. The keys still chimed as you set them on the counter, your shoes still thudded when you kicked them off into the wall, your bag was too heavy, it practically echoed across the room as you dropped it as carefully as you could onto the kitchen table. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to stay quiet, every single noise might as well have been a siren, he was too light of a sleeper when he was alone. 

The second you opened the squeaky fridge and flooded the pitch black kitchen with light, you knew it he was awake. He had to be. You knew him better than he thought you did. 

There were few bottles of beer still left from the last case you had bought, a couple boxes of take-out, a container of leftovers from the last night you cooked… as you kept the fridge open with your hip, you popped the lid off the container and gave it a quick whiff. Too old to be edible anymore. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were looking for, maybe a drink, maybe food… maybe just to hide your face for a few more seconds.

If he was awake, he was just waiting for you, alone in bed, probably listening to every sound you made in the kitchen. Just waiting. Waiting for you.

The contents of the fridge door rattled as you shut it, no matter how gentle your touch, and returned the room to pitch darkness spare the hint of orange light floating in from the street light right outside the kitchen window. It was just enough light to see the pictures taped to the door, four of them, blurred by the darkness but just visible enough to see the edges of his smile in each of them. 

You had taken them, or well, you had taken three of them. 

He had taken the fourth. 

It had been a few months ago, in the heat of the summer that seemed to foreign to you now, the two of you sat back on the leather couch trying your best not to suffocate in the sticky humidity. He was reading through files, one right after the other with mindless determination, while you fed a new roll of film into your camera. 

It was a simple domesticity you certainly wouldn’t have guessed him capable of when you first met him. 

The heat was sweating you out of your skin but you wanted to be next to him, you needed to be next to him. It didn’t matter what you were doing, it didn’t matter that neither of you said a word, it was just having him close. 

You loved having him this close. 

But he hated when you took pictures of him while he was working. 

He only needed to tell you once and you understood completely, you didn’t do it, you knew better. But you liked watching him, the way he furrowed his brow and ran his tongue unconsciously over the interior of his bottom lip, you liked watching him like that. The problems storming in his mind showed in the meticulous corners and creases of his face, the determination glowing in his dark brown eyes, brighter than the daylight. You just liked watching him. 

“No, you can’t take a picture of me.” Were you that obvious?

With an embarrassed tilt of your head down, your chin finding your chest, your laughter muffled into the loose fabric of your tank top. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Mmmhmm… sure…”

“I wasn’t.”

His eyes still hadn’t left the file in his hand but his lips were pulling into a smirk, he didn’t bother trying to hide it either. God, if only he knew how much prettier that made him. “I can see you thinking about it--”

“Stop being so pretty and I’ll stop thinking about it--”

“Alright, give me the camera,” he slapped the file shut and tossed it onto the table with the rest he had gone through in the last few hours, holding his hand out your way as you laughed again. “Come on.”

“This is my camera for work,” you defended as the laughter kept tumbling from your lips, pulling the camera back to your chest as his hand reached out further for it. “No…”

“Give me your other camera then.”

The camera was cool against your chest as you held it tight, glancing back to meet his stare, laughter still tumbling past your dry lips, but you let the camera fall weakly to your lap as you kept your stare locked with his. Beneath his boyish smirk and somewhat unruly morning mustache, there was something else you weren’t expecting. 

He was being serious. His beautiful brown eyes narrowed gently and the warm palm of his upturned hand stayed where it was, extended out between where the two of you sat. He was truly being serious.

Your lips became a mirror, reflecting the sly smile he had pulling at the corners of his own lips. “Give me a second.”

The hot leather stuck to the back of your bare thighs as you pushed yourself up off the couch but the cool tile floor of the kitchen was nearly refreshing as you padded your bare feet towards where your heavy camera bag sat on the kitchen table. Returning the expensive camera you had just reloaded with film, you grabbed for the one he was much more familiar with in your hands.

As you padded back to where he sat, reclined back in worn leather, he waited patiently for you to feed the film into the camera, dragging his one hand unconsciously up and down the inside of your thigh where it rested against his. He wasn’t a patient man, but he was for you. 

“Here...” 

He took the camera in both hands, looking at it with the same analytical stare he had been giving his files just minutes ago. “Just point and shoot?”

“Yeah, like a gun.”

He met your laughter with a strained exhale of his own as you knelt down on the couch slowly, one knee on either side of his hips while he continued to fiddle with his large grip around the somewhat inferiorly sized camera. But even as you settled down, straddling him gently, he couldn’t help the correction that fell from his lips, “Very different from a gun.”

“I know.”

“Very different.” His stare flicked back up to yours and you nodded.

“I know.” 

If he had any other corrections bubbling in his chest, he kept them to himself, choosing instead to lean further back into the leather of the couch and bring the camera to his eye for an angle on you. 

And you did exactly what he did every time you tried to get an angle on him. 

You leaned back as far as you could manage while staying on top of him, flinching from the focus as your head turned to hide your burst of laughter. He only laughed more though, snapping the first picture and cuing up the next, “Not so much fun being the model, huh?”

“Ha ha...” you mocked, pushing the camera away as he persistently moved it back for an angle on you. He just snapped another picture, smiling brighter the more you fought him as the laughter kept tumbling from your lips. “Javi, come on--”

“No, you look pretty--”

“I get it,” you fought one last time, catching his wrist and pinning the camera aside just long enough to pull him forward for a quick kiss. “Thinking you’re pretty isn’t a good enough reason to take a picture, I get it.”

“We’d have to switch professions if that was the case, baby--”

The rest of his argument fell mute on your lips as you surged forward, releasing his wrist and grabbing both sides of his face in a cradling grip to keep him close. One of his large hands found your thigh, but the other kept its hold on the camera as he leaned forward, engrossed in you. 

You heard the camera click but if you were being honest, you didn’t think anything of it, you were too caught up in him. Nothing in that moment mattered as much as the taste of his mouth on your tongue or the feel of his burning touch running up from your thigh to find your waist and not stopping as it continued up, scorching every inch of your skin he could get his hands on. He was all that mattered in that moment and you didn’t think you could be happier. 

At least until you were developing the film. Happiness seemed to have no limit in that moment. 

Out of all the perfectly focused and well-shot pictures that you had taken with the rest of the roll of film, you stumbled upon the few that he had taken, each of them out of focus and way too bright. But the one he had taken, the accidental picture he had snapped as you caught his lips... it was better than anything you had ever taken. 

He looked so happy, his smile was so bright he was barely able to kiss you but he threw every ounce of his being into it anyways. It was out-of-focus, it was back-lit and streaky but he looked so happy to have you. 

You could only catch him looking at other things. The way he smiled at the nice women running the stalls in the market he took you to on the weekends, the stern focus in his brow as he read the smudged recipe his father mailed to him, the roll of his eyes when Steve made a joke he refused to laugh at... you had hundreds of pictures of him looking at other things. 

This was the only one you had of him looking at you, one of the only ones you even had of the two of you together, and it was better than anything you could ever take. 

He just looked so... he looked so happy.

It was a side of him you hadn’t seen in a while. You fingertip just barely grazed over the edge of the sun-bled photograph where it was taped on the fridge door. You missed it. 

You missed him. 

“I tried to wait up for you…”

The low rumble of his raspy tone cut through the stale air of the apartment and nearly leapt you out of your skin. You knew he’d wake up, you knew he had heard you and still, you leapt, just barely, shocked out of the memory and dragged back down to the cold reality of the night. 

“I fell asleep, I’m sorry, it was a long day…”

He always woke up. Even when he looked like he needed the sleep now more than ever. 

He was like a ghost where he stood, propped as upright as his exhausted form could manage in the doorway as his tattered UT shirt seemed to swallow him whole. He was losing weight, he swore he wasn’t and he didn’t think you could tell, but you could tell. You could always tell, you knew him better than he thought you did.

It was never supposed to be like this between the two of you, it was never supposed to get this serious, it was never supposed to get complicated. You were just supposed to be in Colombia for a few months on your contract with National Geographic, you were never supposed to stay, you were never supposed to move in, you were never supposed to call this apartment home. 

“You’re home late…” He hummed, running his hand over the mustache settled as a permanent fixture over his upper lip and the rest of the patchy scruff emerging from the lower half of his face after the long exhaustion of the day. There was a fateful tremor to his voice, not from the exhaustion but from something else. It was hesitation, like he was afraid, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of stepping out of line, afraid of… 

Afraid of losing you, afraid he already was, afraid it was all his fault. 

You took up a similar stance, propping the majority of your weight onto your hip as leaned onto the counter, rubbing your hands over your face just as he had. “I know… I’m sorry.”

“It’s… you don’t have to apologize.” He fought as he folded his arms across his chest. 

Silence was nothing new between the two of you, god knows Javi wasn’t much of a talker and you were far from much better, not after a long day, but this wasn’t the typical, comfortable quiet. The two of you were split apart by a valley, as deep as it was wide as you both held your ground, the tension was a thick, heavy rope hanging between the two of you, but you might as well have been miles away and tonight wasn’t the first night you had noticed. 

He wasn’t stupid, he could see it too.

“Come to bed if you feel like it.” He huffed, dropping his hands to his hips. 

This wasn’t the kind of problem that could be solved in a night. 

He wasn’t looking for a fight, you knew that much, he wasn’t the kind of man who went out of his way looking for a fight, he didn’t have to. The bite to his tone was pure sleep deprivation and who were you to blame him for that, hell, you were probably to blame for that. You weren’t looking to fight either, but sometimes it didn’t matter what you were looking for. Sometimes things just happened. Sometimes everything just builds and builds and builds… 

And you don’t have to go looking for mountains, they tower over you whether you ask them to or not. 

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that…”

His footsteps slowed to a stop in the hall as he hesitated. Javier Peña wasn’t a man who hesitated.

He turned his head back carefully over his shoulder, not that either of you could really see each other in the dark from the distance you kept, but you could feel his attention, you could feel him stop and turn back your way. You knew him a lot better than he thought you did.

“I’m not doing this tonight, I’m going back to bed.” The sigh sounded wrecked as it broke through his chest, crashed on the vast shore that stretched between the two of you. The following steps he took back down the hall were nowhere near as silent as the steps he took in his approach, he was practically cracking the foundation beneath the wood flooring with every pounding step. 

Eventually, you’d follow him, you both knew that. Sleeping on the couch wasn’t good for either of you and sleeping together was one of the only things you could do right anyways, but for now, you needed at least a few seconds alone, you needed to catch your breath. Crossing your arms over your chest, you sagged back into the counter, your stare trained all too carefully on the one photo among the set of four. 

It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t yours either. It just wasn’t a problem you could solve in a night and it was really the only time you had together…

Nights like these were the worst kind and too many nights ended like this. 

It was maybe an hour later when you found your way into bed alongside him. He had stripped the UT tee at the foot of the bed and you left a similar pile of your clothes there before washing up and crawling into the soft sheets. He wasn’t asleep, he could pretend he was, you were fine with that, but you knew he wasn’t, you could tell, he was too tense--

“I got a call about a contract in Brazil…”

He didn’t roll over, he didn’t move an inch. With his back to you, all you could make out in the darkness was the mountainous outline of his side, but he was awake. He could hear you. 

“Just thought I should tell you…” You sighed, rolling over onto your side, facing away from him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

He stayed quiet, apparently he agreed in that respect at least. 

Sleep was a fickle thing. You wanted nothing more than to lay awake, stubborn and unmoving just like him, but you had been out since dawn and you really didn’t have much choice in the matter once your head hit the pillow. 

The cold autumn breeze fought through the slightly cracked bedroom window and fluttered over your sleeping form just enough to force you to reach unconsciously for more warmth in the throes of sleep. It didn’t matter that your conscious mind wanted nothing to do with him, the chill was just enough to roll you onto your back as your arm outstretched for the smallest hint of warmth you could find, but it wasn’t warmth you found but a burning fire laying beside you instead. 

Every inch of hot skin you found peeking out from beneath the sheets as your hands searched mindlessly woke you up further and further until your heavy eyes began to fight the midnight darkness for sight. The ridge of his side was the most you could see and it was trembling, he was shivering under your grip though he felt like a furnace under your touch. 

You gave him a futile shake, hoping miraculously to wake him from his feuding thoughts but you had been here before, you knew it was useless. 

Maybe you weren’t the only reason he wasn’t getting much sleep recently. 

“Javi?” Your rough voice was still half-asleep, barely audible and no use, even as you tried to shake him again. As the image of the colonel’s hand pulling the trigger on the young boy in the alley played over and over again, further wrecking his mind, it didn’t matter how hard you shook him, he wouldn’t wake until it was over.

And when the trigger was finally pulled for the last time, his adrenaline-fueled terror shot him awake into your grip, making the both of you jump in bed beside each other, the same way you jumped at the fridge however long ago that was now when he scared you from your thoughts.��

“Javi…” your voice was awake now, trembling just like he was as he fought to catch his breath beside you. You tried to stay gentle, you knew it wasn’t his fault, but there was only so much you could do when he was like this. “Javi, baby…”

“I’m fine.”

He was out of your touch before you could even really touch him, up and out of the bed entirely, leaving you all alone in the hot sheets he left behind. “Javi--”

“I said I’m fine.” He defended with a sudden slam as he tore the nightstand drawer open, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and slammed it back with an equal violent force. “Just leave it at that.”

“Javi--”

“You want to talk about Brazil?” Your stare dropped back to the thin sheets beneath you as you twisted the edge of the top sheet between your fingers and he scoffed, lighting a cigarette and staying at the window. “We’re not talking, go back to bed.”

You met his scoff with one of your own as you threw your legs out from under the sheets, climbing out of the opposite side of the bed. “You first.”

Nights like these were the worst kind. He blew his smoke out the window and you found your way to the couch instead. 

You missed the man in that picture, the man smiling so bright that he could barely kiss you. 

You just wanted him back.

--

tags: (let me know if you’d like to be untagged, this is a combined list of those who liked my tag post and those on my Javi tag, also let me know if you’d like to be added !!)@tiffdawg @gravegoth @xjaywritesx @leonieb @burnt-august @doodlingbreak @mistermiraclee @theocatkov @lovinglokiforever @abanaqun @friendscall-me-mom @lazybeeches @onfiretakemehigher @lonemeerkatofbloodredland @sesamepancakes @beachteach @embonbon @rogueonestan @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @paperbag33 @witchyavenger @littlevodika @hoodedbirdie @nominalnebula @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thehippiequilter @anu-simps

[remsmoonlight]

— title : point of view

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : tomorrow is something that is never promised, less so when the dead walk the Earth. being trapped for the night when a storm pours down upon you and daryl while trapped in a decrepit house by a few walkers are you sick and tired of hiding what you feel.

— warnings : some swearing, talk of potential death ( of the reader ) , a wee bit of angst that turned into more at the end :)

note: omg another daryl oneshot i gotta chill ajksajksk, but i had like seven main bullet points i made to follow when writing this and i followed like...... two, three at the most, anyways.... enjoy? this is brought to u by ariana’s discography lmao oops it does be cute at some point tho ... also felt a bit hsm with that one line at the end ahaha but fr lemme stop talking now

      ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dark and gloomy clouds swirl over your head, blending into an extremely large and angry looking ready to descend from above. You wonder to yourself just how long you have left before the loud cracks that crumble through the air to accompany the forceful winds and pouring drops of rain are finally released. Halfway through the trip back from the town that lays after miles from the prison the car used decided it preferred to lay quietly in the middle of the road, shortly after the sickly sputters from the engine you heard Daryl mutter a few curse words. You were unable to hold in your amusement, despite the fact that a lack of transport obviously leaves you in a vulnerable position, it felt like it was your luck for that to happen to you.

It’s why you stay behind following the hunter in silence.

Studying him with focused eyes you can’t help but wonder how he never realises when you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. In the beginning when you began to develop a certain affection for him you had been glad, for it to be too embarrassing for the thoughts you had about him in your head. In spite of this, when you realised that it was much more than a crush did you wish for him to mind read, because you have no idea just how to approach him about such a sensitive topic and while he can be tender about feelings, it’s also his downfall.

“ it’ll be gettin’ dark soon, there should be some houses down there to spend the night in. “

You stop in your tracks with a curious look that bled so suddenly into your features you had no time to stop it.

“ you don’t want to carry on? I mean, we’re not far from home? “ you question him with a hint of fear coddling your words.

“ we’d be trippin’ over our feet. Let’s back it back in one piece, yeh? “

Nodding, you regain your pace. It’s been a few months since you’d been hopping from one house to the other during that harsh winter, the bare thought of having to stay in yet another frail structure sent a chilly hand drawing its claws deeply up your spine. If you never had your group, you don’t think you would have made a winter like that, barely protected from the elements and the walkers that wished to plunge their teeth cavernously into your flesh.

“ as long as we leave as soon as the sun comes up. Please. “ you plead, your words filter off into a gentle volume from your position.

Leaves crumble and buckle underneath the weight, the sound of crickets dominate your surroundings as the two of you walk in silence. You itch to start a conversation, but the fear of distracting the man and annoying withhold the words that wish to fall from your lips, even then you don’t know how to begin. What would you say? There’s not much to talk about in a world where the dead have risen, where they wish to drag the world into decomposition.

Your wandering mind is pulled from its very own depths from a noise coming from Daryl, he’d turned to catch your attention. You both set to work attempting to enter any of the abandoned houses, hoping one had been left unlocked at some point.

Of course, luck is scarce. Despite there not being a soul who occupies them, they’re still somehow locked. Mournfully, you wonder if the owners of these homes had thought the governments and armies would eventually lock everything under their control, to the point that there would be a house for them to come back to? Your heart thuds painfully in your chest to think about what happened to them, and if they’re even still surviving.

A large thud draws you back to the present, the wooden door splinters at the force Daryl puts into a large kick to its frame.

“ well, there goes the lock. “ you mutter humourously, lifting the heavy bag higher up onto your shoulders as you walk in the open door.

“ we’ll put the couch there, stop any unfriendly types that come our way. “

“ I don’t know if there’s anyone left anymore. “ you reply, dropping the bag to the floor and moving towards the couch.

Situated on the other side of it, you grip the plush handle and lift with a struggle. It’s a strain to get it through the doorway to  turn it around the corner, but eventually it happens. Daryl is joined by your presence by his side, you both push ⏤ this time it’s an easier feat with two of you on one side to dedicate your strength and weight to advance it.

As soon as you finish, a heavy crackle cuts through the air.

“ we got here just in time, huh? “

“ just about. “ he answers you, sparing a glance before moving through the lower floor ⏤ searching for anything that can be taken back to the prison.

Thunderstorms had never been your favourite thing growing up. Of course, rain was something that calmed you from the anxieties life brought, but the thunder and lightning is what you loathed. Never knowing when you were about to receive a fright from the loud rumbles and flashing lights ruined the whole experience for you.

The rustling Daryl makes is the only thing that brings you comfort in this moment, keeping you grounded and away from your thoughts. It doesn’t escape your notice that these houses feel no more than graveyards with the memories that have no use to live, instead haunting the structures with what could have been had chaos and death not taken over. You climb the stairs, hugging your sides as you refuse to touch the handrail leading up stairs.

There is a middle room with access granted without having to push open the door to gain entry. Your eyes scan the room’s interior, even with the dust and grime that bespeckle its surfaces, you can still see its beauty. Now, who does that remind you of? Your mind cheekly thinks before you banish it into the shadows of your brain, where you know it will force itself out with an immense stubbornness.

Despite the thunder booming in the distance frequently, you can’t help but admire the beauty of rain drops falling to the ground with a dainty grace only it holds. The sky continues to grow dimmer, only seeing the rain on your level and lower, no street lights flood the street to aid you in being able to see torrent from above. Jumping at another roar of sound from the storm, your heart begins to pick up its pace, so much you don’t realise Daryl joining you in the room.

“ scared? “

Turning around with such speed that leaves you surprised whiplash did not greet you, Daryl is left smirking at your reaction.

“ yeah, I hate these things. “ you respond, a bitterness coating each word heavily as you speak.

“ more than walkers? “ he questions you, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“ well, I suppose not that much .. “ another clap of thunder interrupts you, the rain beating harder and harder on the windows of the bedroom. “ can we talk about anything? This shit really grates on my nerves. “

“ what y’wanna talk about? “

Your mind stalls, with the previous thoughts that had been swirling in a state of disorder your draw a blank. A continuous thump downstairs interrupts your shrug, speeding down the stairs you realise a few walkers are trying to enter the property, of course their lack of intelligence fails to realise they’re throwing themselves into the walls and not the blocked doors.

“ shall we take them out? “ moving closer to the lengthy curtained window next to the door to get a better look, you can see three walkers hauling themselves mindlessly against the structure.

“ nah, the storm’ll get ‘em soon enough. “ he shakes his head softly, your mind taking note of the lack of proximity between your bodies as he repeats your action. “ no need to risk ourselves. “

“ wouldn’t be the first time you’ve risked your life. “

“ s’nothin. “ he contradicts gruffly, wiping a finger across his nose at your words. He truly doesn’t view it as that, refusing to think of it as risking his life. To Daryl, it doesn’t feel like risking everything to help the people around him, it’s not something he can find the words to explain but all he knows if there’s a chance, he would do it again and again.

“ Daryl Dixon, so humble. “ you speak warmly with a gentle smile threading itself into your features. “ you need to give yourself more credit. “

“ stop. “

“ you’re as brave as anyone in the group. I’d say braver than Rick. “ you joke, setting yourself from the entryway to the sitting room. “ although, if I had to choose you and Carol .. I’m sorry, but Carol every time! “

“ damn woman frightens me. “

Laughter light in weight dances airily between you with an elegance in its movement. For even a fraction of a second you forget that there are walkers that are itching to break through into the property, that there’s an angry storm that threatens to demolish whatever stands in its path, because right now it’s only you both here and now in this one room.

“ she’s come a long way. “ you agree, pulling a lone chocolate bar from your bag. Your favourite and you’re thanking the universe that it hasn’t spoiled yet. Turns out all these preservatives and chemicals have some use after all you note to yourself as half is offered to the man standing across from you.

“ so have ‘yuh. “ he acknowledges, taking the broken half of the candy from you.

“ I think we all have to be honest. I don’t think any one of us are the people we used to be. “

“ now who’s humble? “ Daryl asks, his tone light in relaxed merriment. He’d long since taken note of the transformation you’d gone through, he’s never seen you so strong as a person before.

“ don’t you turn this round on me, Dixon. “

The two of you fall silent, you direct your gaze to the window and the raindrops that litter the window pane’s surface. The harsh noises thundered no more, leaving a calm pitter of precipitation to fall with no interruption. From your position on the second couch, you wrap around a thin decorational blanket around your arms, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

Pretending the world hasn’t gone to hell, that it’s just a normal evening where you’re admiring the scene before you. Skies that weep heavily is what the Georgian greenery has been calling out for, especially since the warmer temperatures have returned in full force. Switching your line of sight to Daryl, you feel a mellowness in the pit of your stomach as you watch him fondly. You can’t be sure if it’s the lack of distractions or eyes from your group, but you feel a miniscule spark of confidence within your confines.

“ come sit down, you can relax for a bit. “ you call, trying to convince him lightly. Your hand moves to pat the seat next to you.

“ can’t relax in this world. “ despite the disagreement in his words he does move towards your position on the plush seat.

“ it doesn’t mean we can’t make it. Otherwise we’d be burnt out, I’d hate to see that happen to you. “ You divulge as you reply to him, little inklings of hope in your tone.

“ y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. “

“ but I do, Daryl. “ you groan as a dull glumness contorts your features into something new. “ I mean, the lengths you go to .. you scare me to death. “

“ don’t be dumb. “ Daryl warns lowly as he shakes his head, few have shared their vulnerability with him. Perhaps only Carol, his mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that people genuinely care for him. Growing up, he’d been taught of it as a weakness. Something that should not exist, no one cared when he went missing for a short while as a child, and now having people who show him the opposite? It leaves a strange feeling to settle within his heart.

“ please, I need to tell you. I mean, I might not even be here tomorrow. “

“ nah, don’t say that. Y’will. “ he argues, he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of not seeing you even for a day ⏤ let alone forever.

Truthfully, you’d not been particularly close. He understands it now, he pushed everyone away wherever he had the chance to. But after the downfall of the farm? You wouldn’t let up in trying to forge bonds that could rival even the strongest of metals. You had no idea, but he’d overheard you talking to Beth one day. When you said you didn’t want to be afraid of living, to have something worth dying for. That struck him deep.

“ neither you or I can guarantee that. Now, call me selfish but I can’t die with what ifs in my brain. “ you explain, you know it’s probably selfish to announce any kind of fondness for a person nowadays, because you can be ripped from their existence without any kind of announcement. But if you were to depart from the realm of the living, you’d want to have affectionate memories to experience and for them to look back on.

“ what y’sayin? “

Your eyes well up in frustration, whether it’s over the way you find the words are hiding beneath your tongue like cowards under the cloak of night or over the fact that you have begun this topic of conversation, backing yourself into a corner. There’s so much you want to say but how you should is not coming easy. Eloquence in your words is something you find yourself yearning for with all of your being should it bring you a happy ending to this discussion.

This isn’t a fairytale, there’s no happy or bad endings in real life you sorely think. There’s just reality, and the conclusions for that are neither black or white.

Fingertips grip the roots of your hair for a fleeting moment before letting go as if you’d never clutched them in exasperation at all.

Shutting your eyes so hard they hurt, you muster up the courage to speak the truth you’ve locked away in your heart, allowing it the light it has been deprived of for so long.

“ Daryl, I ⏤ “ your voice shuts off with a painful sound, sighing as if to psych yourself up. “ I feel more for you than I probably should. “

When Daryl says nothing, you open your eyes. Your entire being preparing yourself for the worse answer, this moment may hurt now but the pain will lessen. At least your soul feels lighter with the hidden information no longer chained to it as a burden, no longer will it have to be weighed down by its mass.  

“ I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “

“ who said I didn’t wanna hear? “

“ ⏤ what ? “ you question, your brows falling lower as you squint in disbelief. You wonder if your brain is forming a false memory to protect itself later on.

“ y’don’t nothin’ to do with me though. “ he hesitates, the automatic response to push away anything good that comes his way to the furthest reaches. “ nothin’ but trouble. “

A sorrowful smile full of grief clouds your features, your unshed tears threaten to fall. If only he could see himself from your point of view, he doesn’t see just how admirable of a human being he is. Yes, he has his flaws but who doesn’t? In all of humanity, you don’t think there has ever been a perfect person, but it’s how they approach their downsides that shows the peak of their humanity, that they don’t let the darkness fester in their heart, to poison their soul into becoming a shell of a kind hearted person. That shows the strength of their character.

Daryl? You feel honoured to have been a first hand witness to see him turn from a hot ball of anger to a softer, kinder soul.

“ Daryl, you really don’t see what I do.” you forsake everything, leaning forwards and laying your hands across his. Taking in the immense warmth from them. “ That? It hurts me, because you’re rather amazing. “

Saying nothing, Daryl looks down at your intertwined hands. He wants the chance that’s being offered, though the fear of being the one who poisons everything he lays his touch upon settles heavily on his shoulder. No one has come out unscarred when dealing with a member of the Dixon family, his family tree being nothing more than toxic, with weeds that wrap around the limbs of the poor fool who got involved with them, as they drag them to their lowly depths. He doesn’t know how to let go of the past and for this he continues to pay, with the high price being his happiness in the present world. No response leaves his lips, for the first time in a long time he doesn’t know what to say, while knowing what he wants to say. It’s not until he feels arms wrapped around the top of his shoulders is he brought back down to Earth, a shudder of a breath is released from him as he realises what is going on. The action is reciprocated in earnest, you’re full of gratitude that he’s accepting your comfort ⏤ knowing it could have been a gamble of a decision, a fifty fifty chance of him reacting negatively or positively. You, too, draw comfort from the position you both find yourself, clutching the other. Hope dawns on your heart, knowing Daryl is not a particularly affectionate man. This means a lot, for it’s a leap for you both.

“ thank you. “ he whispers in the night. You know that this is the start of something new.

[mystical-flute]

After a Million Miles or So, We Might Find Out We're Home (SFWeek Day 7)

Regency Era AU or Free Day

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

“You’re going to combine all the realms?” Emma asked, staring at Regina with wide eyes.

Regina nodded, her hands already crackling with the restrained magic of the scroll clutched in her fingers. “I am. I think it’s for the best. No more curses, no more being caught off-guard by people that exist…”

Emma wrinkled her nose at that. No amount of acceptance would take away the shock of discovering Les Miserables or The Avengers were real people.

But she knew Regina was right. For too long the realms had been separated, and too many people had gotten hurt in the process. Curse after curse, villain after villain…

And, Emma realized, it would actually allow the Storybrooke residents the ability to travel. No, they wouldn’t be able to go to Disneyworld, or New York City, or Tallahassee, but they’d be able to get out of the tiny little town they’d called home for decades, without being ripped away from her again.

A happy beginning.

So it was cast, a piece of everyone’s heart sacrificed in the process, from hero and reformed villain alike, and Storybrooke? Well, it got much, much more crowded.

Which meant that, for a few weeks, Emma and the other sheriffs were incredibly busy, registering the inhabitants of the respective realms, welcoming them, and making sure everyone was able to settle in. A transportation system had been drafted by several builders, and had been completed in a few days thanks to the various magic-users in the lands.

It was a little unnerving how quick everything seemed to fall into place, and before long, things had settled down into a routine.

A few months after the dust settled, Neal slapped a map down on the table after their daughter Audrey had left for school.

“What’s this?” she questioned, sipping at her coffee.

“It’s a map of the Realms,” he said with that same love-sick puppy dog look on his face. “I thought you and I could go on vacation, just the two of us.”

Huh. Now that was an idea. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had any sort of vacation alone. If it wasn’t something at the school they needed to support Audrey with, it was some sort of villainous disaster waiting in Storybrooke, or they were cursed in Hyperion Heights, as a bitter, angry, divorced couple with a daughter caught between them.

They hadn’t had time to just… be free.

“I suppose it would only be fair if Audrey got to choose who she stayed with, if we’re bailing on her for a week or two,” Emma said.

“Well, she is seventeen. It wouldn’t be fair if she got stuck and grandma and grandpa’s. A farm and a pawn shop don’t seem to be all that hip with the teens,” Neal replied with a grin.

“God, we’re not that old, Neal,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“Emma, we’re grandparents. I think it’s time to pack it up on the young game.”

“Oh? Then maybe we should spend our vacation looking at retirement homes, then,” she said. “Since you’re so convinced we no longer have our youth.”

Neal’s face went red. “Well, maybe we don’t go that far, but - ”

Emma laughed. “It’s fine, Neal. I’ll tell Philip I’m taking a couple weeks off. I’m sure he’ll understand.” It was rare for Emma to take a day off, so it might provide some relief in the office anyway.

Audrey had been understandably ecstatic about being away from her parents. Emma didn’t understand the feeling, but as long as her daughter was happy, that was all she cared about.

What hadn’t made her all that happy was when Audrey decided to stay with her boyfriend, rather than with a friend, Henry, or even one set of grandparents. But Emma and Neal had promised it would be anyone, so, with Audrey taken care of, the two of them were off on their great adventure.

“You said Arendelle first, right?” Neal asked.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to see Elsa and Anna again."

"It has been quite a while since they crashed into Storybrooke. I wonder if Anna still sword fights. Might be fun to set up a match between her and your dad."

"I think dad would love that."

The snowy landscape of Arendelle gave way to the sparkling desert sands of Agrabah, where they caught up with Aladdin and Jasmine. From there, they traveled south to Camelot, where they were greeted with… a mixed welcome.

Lancelot, at least, welcomed them with open arms, and since he was the newly-crowned king, it seemed any dissenters kept their mouths shut.

They hadn’t stayed more than a night before venturing to Oz to visit with Red and Dorothy.

Knowing that her mother could see Red more often made Emma happy. She knew it had been hard over the years, with only a mirror to talk through, and even that had only come five years after Red had left for Oz.

Then they made their way to Erik and Ariel’s beachy kingdom.

“Think this makes up for us missing out on Tallahassee?” Neal questioned as they spread out on the beach for a picnic. It was every bit of a corny romantic movie, with the sun setting, the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange as the few rays left reflected off the water’s low tide.

Emma laughed. “More than, considering the nearest beach to Tallahassee is two hours away.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “I spent a couple years there after I got out of juvie. Thought you’d show.”

He winced, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t think you'd want to see me. Wasn’t sure what August had been planning.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said, reaching to take his free hand. “We found our way back to each other, and everything’s worked out.”

Neal smiled, squeezing her hand. “We found our way home.”

[tooruluv]

Kozume Kenma x F!Reader x Tetsurou Kuroo ( part 3 )

❝ i’m right here, when are you going to realize that i’m your cure, heartbreak girl? ❞

description: kozume kenma didn’t know the exact day in which he realized that he was in love with you. he knew very well that it was sometime after your first “hello”, but the exact moment got whisked away in the many memories that included you. the problem was, though, that you were in love with and in a serious relationship with the boy he claimed as a best friend.

genre: angst, pining, unrequited love, (characters are aged up as the story continues)

word count: 1,699

warnings/notes: wow long time no update! i think it’s nice to have a (short) fic that isn’t on a schedule hfhaf. anyway! ily all and hope you like this one <3

tag list: @elianetsantana​​ @vhskenma​​ @jennasquishy8​ @chao01248​

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“ all i want is nothing more than to hear you knocking at my door. ‘cause if i could see your face once more, i could die a happy man i’m sure. ”

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Kozume Kenma was growing exhausted. 

It was exhausting to keep something, a secret, deep inside of him. Kenma was naturally a pretty honest person. To constantly press down his love for you was physically draining. Loving you was exhausting.

But the minute you turned to him in the car, body pressed against his side, asking him about his video game, he figured the exhaustion was worth it.

Bokuto pulled the car into a dirt driveway to reveal the biggest beach house Kenma had ever seen. It was painted a dusty blue-green color, but it was pretty worn with browns. Endless windows faced the water, where a boat and two circles of chairs formed around two fire pits. 

Other’s had already made it, so Kenma heard his name being called before he could even take it all in. Hinata.

“Kenma! I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, either.” Kenma said as he got out of the car. You got out on Kuroo’s side (it was a small detail but he couldn’t help but notice). 

“Yeah, the whole Karasuno team came!” Hinata’s smile was so bright it hurt. “Oh, do you want to share a room with me! Kageyama didn’t want to room with me and…”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I thought we were going to share a room.” Kuroo spoke up from where he was grabbing things from the trunk. 

“Sharing a room with Hinata makes more sense.” Kenma said. “Now you can share with Bokuto.” And both of your girlfriends.

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed from the other side of the car. 

As you all grabbed your things and Kenma endured Hinata rambling on about playing beach volleyball later, he couldn’t help but look at you. You caught his glance almost instantly and sent him a perfect smile. 

When Kuroo put his arm around your shoulders and you tore your gaze from his, Kenma felt a punch to his gut.

Shoyo Hinata may not have been the smartest person alive, but he was not stupid. And being a volleyball player means that his observational skills were maxed out.

Hinata’s girlfriend, a swimmer named Hayami, wrapped her arm around his. He flushed and smiled but his attention was focused on a certain Nekoma setter.

“You think he likes her?” Hayami asked, looking in the same direction.

“Yeah.” He replied. “And I don’t think Kuroo knows.”

“They’re best friends, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why I think Kenma would keep it to himself.”

“He really is your best friend, huh?” Hiyami giggled, and Hinata’s smile didn’t falter. 

“I like to think so.”

As a welcome to the end, the night was spent partying. Both of the fires were lit, and everyone was spread out along the beach house. You were sitting on Kuroo’s lap on the sand, both of you with full cups in your hands.

Kenma hadn’t even taken a sip of his yet he felt sick.

Kenma wanted to tell Kuroo. 

Oh, how he wanted to tell his best friend of his yearning. He wanted to sit him down, confess his love for you, and be on his way. 

But there was absolutely no way that was happening. None. 

Not while he hugged you from your back in front of everyone. Not while Kuroo’s eyes sparkled while looking at you. Not while your smile brightened at the sight of him. 

Kozume Kenma knew his best friend. He knew that Kuroo would do anything and everything for him. If Kenma asked for it, he would get it. That’s how it always had been with them. 

“Kuroo, can I have the red bucket?” Kenma would ask as kids, and Kuroo would hand it to him. Or, “Kuroo, this tastes awful.” And he would simply switch his good-tasting drink for Kenma’s bitter one.

And he knew that if he asked Kuroo for you, he would simply give you up. Because that’s who Kuroo is: selfless and full of love. 

There was absolutely no way Kenma would do that.

It was two days before your first fight with Tetsurou Kuroo. It was two days of peace and nothing but love between you both. 

And it was late at night when Kenma woke up to you.

You didn’t say anything. You simply appeared in Kenma and Hinata’s shared room and slipped into the bottom bunk next to Kenma. 

He woke up to the feeling of the blanket being lifted, groggily taking in his surroundings. The second he realized it was you, he only moved over and gave you a little bit more blanket. 

Both of you laid on your backs, staring at the upper bunk that Hinata was passed out in. Even in the dark he could see your tears.

There were no words exchanged. Your bodies squished against each other on the small bed, hidden under the blanket. He could feel your breath.

You curled into his side, and Kenma felt like he was going to astral project. You were an out of body experience.

Kenma woke up to an empty bed.

When were you going to realize that Tetsurou Kuroo was not meant to be yours, and you were in fact meant to be with someone else? 

Never, he answered once he walked into the kitchen to see Kuroo hugging your back as you grabbed a snack from the counter.

The thing about unrequited love is that it hurts more than regular pining. Unrequited love hurts physically, it causes pains in the chest and stomach aches beyond anything experienced before. Pining after someone… well, it’s full of hope and fear of rejection.

Unrequited love is sitting in wait while you watch someone you love love someone else.

And that is comparable to death.

On the boat, Kenma only watched you. 

As Bokuto steered you through the water and the wind blew into your face, he could only sit and watch. Everyone was too busy doing their own thing to notice.

Kuroo plopped in the seat next to him, arm behind Kenma’s head and cheeks dusted in red.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” Kuroo asked, tapping his best friend’s arm. “You’re getting red.”

“So are you.”

The thing was, Kenma wasn’t red from the sun. 

The neverending party was dying for that night. Drunken laughs and make out sessions were fading out and back into the house.

And Kenma was exhausted.

“I’m in love with you.” Kenma told you. A simple statement.

It was only the two of you. He looked at you, but you focused your attention on the flames of the fire. The oranges and reds danced along your skin, the shadows reflected against the glow in your eyes. The fire might’ve been burning but Kenma felt cold.

“I figured that you should know.” He shrugged. Because it wasn’t a confession, nor was it supposed to make you feel awkward or choose a guy. It was simply the truth.

“Kenma,” You finally spoke, turning towards him. Your eyes met.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He interrupted you.

“Kenma,” You tried again. This time, you reached for him across the fabric arm of the lawn chair you were sitting in. He let you wrap your hand around his wrist. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to say anything.” Kenma turned his head from yours.

The rest of the night concluded with the both of you facing the fire. Your hand stayed on his, as if he wasn’t real if you weren’t touching him. His heart hammered his chest. Yet, he felt a bit relieved to feel free of the exhaustion it was to keep the secret.

As the fire died, you two stayed.

[love-fireflysong]

It be June 3rd now, and would you look at that, the second of my prompts is already up! Who’d a thunk it? Anyway, as successfully guessed by the lovely @torahime here is 5 + 1! And as by the nature of this trope in general, this one ended up long. Like crazy loooooooong. (Also I’m a moron who didn’t understand what the prompt meant for like a week. I kept trying to figure out what the hell the number six had to do with anything, and when I finally googled it out of desperation, all I saw were the words ‘five times’ in the first link and I immediately felt ashamed of myself. I should have known. Why didn’t I know?)

Anyways, you can read the long-ass fic in question at ao3 over here: Do You Ever Wonder What Could Have Been? You can also read this one under the cut, but considering the length I wouldn’t recommend it asdhaskdjh The next one should be much shorter due to the fact that like the first one, I blanked for ideas completely lol.

Do You Ever Wonder What Could Have Been?

Trope: 5 + 1 Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley, Josh Washington (all the other kids also make an appearance but due to them only having like one scene and a single line each I’m not tagging them) Words: 12733 Rating: Teen (though I think I’m being pretty damn generous with that rating tbh) Authors Notes: Yes you’re reading that word count right. Almost thirteen thousand words. Don’t ask how I managed to write this in 5 days, I have no fucking idea. Just take this fic about two nerds being morons in love and mutually pining over each other for six. fucking. years.

Chris is fourteen and so goddamn tired of this stupid crush on his best friend. It's been a whole year now since he met her, and he hates that this stupid, silly, little, crush of his hasn't abated at all. He doesn't even know why he likes her in the first place! It's just Ashley after all, there is absolutely no reason to feel this tongue-tied around his best friend. It's Ash: with her braces, arms always full books (when her head wasn't buried in one that is), stringy red hair, wide green eyes, who sometimes snorts when he tells a joke, freckles that dot her nose and shoulders and—

Okay, he was maybe getting a little side-tracked here. The point was, there was 100% absolutely no reason to feel this way about her. In fact, he bets this was all Josh's fault in the first place! Yeah! That was it! None of this would be happening if Josh hadn't basically kidnapped Ashley from her true home in the library and forced him to meet her! 

...But then he wouldn't have met her. And stupid crush aside, she is pretty much the only girl he knows who laughs at all his jokes and helps him with his English homework sometimes. He likes knowing her and likes being her friend even more, he just doesn't like liking her. And maybe that was it? Maybe he just likes Ashley cause she's the only girl who willingly hangs out with him and Josh, and isn't Josh's sisters. 

And that's what he's going to prove today once and for all. He heard from Josh that Hannah was absolutely adamant that everyone was going to play spin-the-bottle at her and Beth's birthday party in a couple of days. And that everyone meant not only the people that the twins invited for said party, but also the people that Josh invited over (ie: Chris and Ash) so he would have some company during the twins big b-day bash. Chris was going to find Ashley and explain that losing their first kiss over a game like spin-the-bottle was just so not cool, and that maybe kissing each other first would just be a way better and smarter idea of doing things. And once he kissed her he would finally realize that yup, Ash was just one of the guys and that was so fucking gross and they were totally never ever going to do that again.

Perfect idea. Fool proof even. No way that this was totally going to backfire into his face. Absolutely none at all!

So when he finds Ashley sitting and reading under her usual tree just outside of the school, he is so sure of the success of his ingenious plan that he brings it up right away. 

"I think we should kiss before Hannah and Beth's party."

See! Right away! Straight to the point. He has got this shit in the bag baby!

Ashley looks up at him, clearly a little startled from reading her book and squints at him. "Huh? Chris? Is that you?" For a second he's a little confused about how Ash doesn't even recognize him, but then he quickly realizes that he's probably got the sun directly at his back so she can't see him clearly and he awkwardly shuffles to the left a little so she can see him better. "Oh! Hey Chris, what was that you said earlier? I got so absorbed that I didn't really hear a thing you said, sorry." While she doesn't close her book, she does give an embarrassed little laugh that makes his stomach flip-flop just a little and starts to weaken at the cracks of his once fool-proof plan.

He finds himself messing with the strap on his bookbag as he tries to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. 'Um, I asked if you were going to the twins' birthday party this weekend." Okay, falling a little behind schedule now, but it's fine. No problem.

"I mean, I wasn't exactly invited, but yeah. A whole night of graphic horror movies to drown out the sounds of screaming pre-teens. I honestly can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday night." The absolute dryness of her tone has Chris smiling.

"Oh come on Ash, it's not gonna be that bad."

"Our choices are either to hang out with a bunch of kids who have basically never talked to us ever, or watch Josh's disgusting horror movies Chris."

"Well, I mean, when you put it that way...actually, no. The screaming pre-teens sound like a safer bet honestly." The little snort of laughter she lets out only has Chris pushing the butterflies down harder. God, he is going to be so glad when those stupid things finally leave him alone. "And well, from what Josh said, it sounds like horror isn't the only thing planned for that evening."

"It isn't? You mean he's actually opening up to other movie genre options? Shocking. I truly never thought I would see the day."

"Ha, I wish. Nah, I was, um, talking about what the girls—well, what Hannah wanted to play. Actually." Great. And now he's starting to blush. Really keeping with the rails of his plan there!

"What Hannah...? Oh! You're, uh, talking about the spin-the-bottle game." Ashley brings her lower lip into her mouth and pushes some hair behind her ear. "Yeah, Josh mentioned something about that."

Perfect, one less thing he had to explain. That would speed things up immensely. "Honestly, between you and me? I think it's a stupid idea."

Ashley nods her head vigorously in agreement. "I know right! I mean, who wants to kiss some stranger over a bottle of all things? Can you imagine losing your first kiss to some person who probably doesn't have a single idea who you are in the first place? God that would be awful." Oh man, things are lining up right for him! Ashley's even on the same page and this next part is going to be so easy— "That's why I asked Josh if I could kiss him first instead when he told me a couple of days ago."

Wait. Waitwaitwait wait . She already asked Josh?! "Oh, wow. You were, uh, really thinking ahead there huh?" God, he could feel every ounce of determination he had slowly deflating out of his body. There was no way he could ask her now, absolutely no way! Ashley was gonna think that Chris wanted to kiss her—or worse, liked her! And okay he kind of did, but this was supposed to prove the exact opposite. That this was just stupid hormones and puberty really messing with his life and not something else.

"Of course, there was absolutely no way I was gonna have my first kiss with some popular buttface who was just gonna make fun of me behind my back afterwards. Better to have it with Josh, who would also make fun of me, but at least it would be to my face." Ashley starts to return to her book, flipping a page but stops halfway through. "Wait. Were you going to ask me the same thing?" She sounds a little unsure and a little of something else he can't place right now because he's too busy trying not to panic. 

"What? No! God no! Of-of course not!" Oh god, was his voice seriously choosing to crack now? He really, really hoped that the shade being cast from the tree was enough to hide how red his face was. He needed to get out of here and quick .

"I-I-I mean, it's not like it was good or anything—"

"Think I should probably go now anyway."

"It was, like, really wet and-and-and like so bad. Super awkward honestly."

"Lots of things to do. Lots and lots of things to do in fact!"

"I mean, we could still, uh, k-k-kiss? If you want to...?"

"Nope!" Chris was honestly looking everywhere except at Ashley right now, which was fine because she was currently in the middle of trying to hide behind her book. "There's absolutely no reason to do that. Because, because... I already kissed Josh too!"

"...you did?"

"Yup! Totally did. Just came over to see what you had planned to do about it actually. And because you're so much smarter than me, you had totally already done the same thing. So no reason for me to still bother you after all! None whatsoever! So I'll just let you get back to your book. And the battle between the uh, vampire and the, um, cowboy? Riveting stuff I bet."

"Um, yeah. But—"

"I'll just, uh, see you tomorrow then, I guess. Bye!"

Chris thinks he catches a wave of disappointment flash across her face when she returns his farewell, but he's already basically fled half away across the yard to find Josh so he doesn't think about it too much. And it turns out that Ashley is right, kissing Josh is wet and pretty fucking awful in the end. Which should only prove his idea that kissing her would have been just as bad and awkward.

So why does he feel like it would have actually been the complete opposite?

"I'm going to fail."

Ashley rolled her eyes as she struggled not to laugh. "Oh my god, you're not gonna fail Chris."

Chris didn't even deign to raise his head from where he had face-planted it into the open book only moments before, letting his words come out muffled and flat. "I am Ash. I am going to bomb this exam so hard that they're gonna make me repeat ninth grade."

Ashley groaned, but it was more of an attempt to hide her amusement than out of any exasperation, as she tried to lift Chris back into a sitting position and wasn't laid out prostrated over the table. "Okay first of all, get your dumb face out of that book. Ms. Norman is not gonna be happy with either of us if she discovers your drool all over the pages of the only half-decent copy of Lord of the Flies that the school library has." Once she finally has finally managed to prop Chris into a halfway decent sitting position, she moves the book closer to her in case he decides to try smashing his face into it again. "Second of all, I'm pretty sure that the school's not going to make you repeat the grade just because you failed English, your grades in everything else are high enough that they'll definitely pass you. That, and there is no way that the teachers would let Josh move on to high school of all things without supervision."

"...That is a scarily good point."

"And thirdly, there is absolutely no way I would be able to get through the next four years of school with you in my grade," she teases him with a poke in the arm. "I mean can you imagine? Having to go to class everyday knowing you're going to be there with me? I can't think of anything more terrifying honestly."

Chris gives a startled laugh. "Gee, thanks Ash. Really appreciate that vote of confidence. Making my self-esteem soar over here. And also, I for one can think of something way more terrifying."

"Really?" Ashley says as she crosses her arms across her chest and levels him with a disbelieving look. "Well go on then, try me. Cause I can promise you that there is absolutely nothing more terrifying—"

"Me and Josh in the same grade as you."

Ashley just blanches. "Oh god. You're right. That is so much worse and the idea of this even happening is now going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life."

"Oh please, it wouldn't be that bad."

"It would. It so would. And to prevent this we need to double down on you studying for your English final so that this cataclysmic event never occurs."

It's Chris's turn to roll his eyes as he slumps down even further into his seat. "That's what I was doing earlier until you stopped me."

"What? Planting your face into the middle of the book?"

"Exactly. Decided to try out a new method cause the other one wasn't certainly working. Learning by osmosis."

Ashley shoves her face into the palms of her hands to try and stop her giggles. It didn't work, not by a long shot, but it at least smothered them a bit. "You can't just read a book by trying to absorb it into your skin, that's not how things work at all!"

"And how would you know that Ash? Have you ever even tried?" Chris scoffs.

"Of course I haven't you dork! I haven't tried because that's not even possible!"

 "Um, sounds to me like someone just isn't open to new ideas."

"Oh my god. Can we please get back to studying and making sure you don't fail. I for one would really like to get back to that." Ashley starts to put the copy of the book back between the middle of them where they can both read it easily. "Okay, so chapter eight is where the divide between the boys finally reaches a boiling point after seeing the 'monster' on the mountain in the last chapter. They argue over whether Ralph should still be left in charge and Jack leaves in a huff."

Chris groaned as he tossed his glasses onto the table so he could throw his arm over his eyes. "Starting to think that Jack has the right idea here." he grumbled.

Ashley ignored him. "Some of the other boys follow after him and form their own tribe with Jack as its chief further down the beach. As a group, the hunters then fall into a savage frenzy when they go hunting and kill a sow, with Roger dealing the killing blow."

"By driving his spear into the thing’s ass," Chris helpfully supplied.

Ashley sighed. "Yes, by doing that. Good to know you're at least remembering some things, but do you remember what happened next?"

Though she couldn't see with Chris's arm in the way, she knew that he was narrowing his eyes in concentration. "Ummm, they... eat the pig?"

Ashley groaned and fought very hard against the impulse to smack her forehead into the center of the table. " Chris . "

"What? Do they not eat the thing? I mean, why even hunt it if they're not gonna eat it?"

"Chris, what they do next is the lead up for what is often considered the most important scene in the entire book! How can you not remember?!"

"I don't know Ash! Kind of think I was distracted by the whole 'shoving a spear into a sow's anus' part!"

"They leave its head on a stake in the jungle as an offering to the beast! This is what creates the Lord of the Flies that Simon sees later that night!"

"Oh right, that. Yeah that sounds a little familiar now that you mention it."

"A little—" Ashley stops fighting against the earlier urge and places her heavy head into her hands in despair. "You literally had to read this book last month! How could you have forgotten so much already?"

Chris groans and drapes himself over the back of his chair. "This is hopeless Ash. I appreciate the help I really do, but I think it's time we face the inevitable and just take a page out of this book."

"What, I stick your head on a pike and be done with you?"

The snort that Chris makes in surprise is enough to bring a tired smile to Ashley's face. "Leaving you to deal with Josh alone? Ha, you wouldn't. Nah, I was talking about just making an offering to the exam gods out there. Think they'll be the best bet I have to pass this shitty ass final."

Ashley removes her head from her hands to give him a withering look. "If we're going that route, you want a kiss for good luck too? Probably work just as well as those gods of yours."

There's an awkward pause, and at first Ashley can't figure out why but then the words finally hit her. She feels her face start to burn and she places her head back into her hands so she doesn't have to look at Chris anymore. Oh god, she can't believe she just said that. Why would she even say that in the first place?! It's a damn good thing that Chris isn't wearing his glasses right now, the heat from her face alone is making her feel like she's about to combust as it is, and him seeing that would probably push her over that physical boundary.

"I-I mean, if you think it will help..." Chris sounds almost bashful when he says it and Ashley snaps her head to him in shock.

"I—" Ashley isn't quite sure what she's trying to say, and is interrupted when her phone buzzes with an incoming text message. She immediately jumps up from her chair and starts grabbing at her things. "Oh man, that's probably my mom here to pick me up. I should really get going."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah! No reason for me to stay if you aren't so I guess I should head out too." Chris starts picking up his stuff too, putting his glasses back onto his face as he shoves his books into his bag.

By nature of having brought less than Chris to help him study, Ashley finishes cleaning first but doesn't leave right away. Chris had said it was fine after all. And sure, maybe he was just desperate for anything that will help him pass his final, but he said it would be fine. So steeling herself, Ashley leans down and leaves a quick but chaste kiss on Chris's cheek.

"For luck!" She manages to squeak out as she all but runs out the doors of the library to the school's entrance where her mom will be waiting for her, too scared to even look back. 

Chris should have known that something was up the moment Josh brought it up: 'Hey, how about you and Ash hang out at my house this weekend instead?' Innocent sounding sure, but he really, really should have known better. Josh never pushed for hang outs at his place, it had always been an agreed upon rule that Hannah and Beth got their place, while Josh preferred to host their get togethers and his and Ash's own houses. It was just the thing that was done and everyone had been more than happy with how it was. Had it been any other time, Chris would like to think that he would have totally seen right through Josh's plan and offered up his place instead.

But Josh's parents were almost never around either, and that meant staying up late and talking and goofing around without parents warning them to go to sleep. Which most importantly meant staying up late and talking to Ashley, because that hadn't been a thing that the three of them had been able to do a whole lot recently. It was still so weird not seeing Ash around in the school halls, not being able to hang out at lunch, and not meeting up after school all the time. It felt like there was something huge missing and it bothered him (just as much as it bothered Josh, not that he would ever say anything about it). The two of them wandering the hallowed halls of high school while she was still stuck back in their middle school just felt so wrong .

So when Josh had brought up a weekend hang out, Chris (and Ashley) had accepted right away. Which, judging from the fact that Josh had somehow managed to weasel the two of them into playing a game of Truth or Dare with him, had been a huge mistake.

"Well, well, well. It seems the time has come. So let's get on with it shall we?" Josh rubbed his hands gleefully together in the dim light of the bedroom (for atmosphere he had claimed) as the three of them sat in a circle. A seemingly innocuous plate of cookies sitting in the middle of them, and knowing better then to trust Josh, both Chris and Ash had been eyeing the cookies warily for the past few minutes. Not that Josh seemed to notice or care of course. "Seeing as I'm the one who set up elegant little ritual—"

"You forced us into playing a stupid game dude, there's nothing elegant or ritualistic about it."

Josh ignored him, unsurprisingly. "I'll go first of course. So Ash, truth or dare?"

"What are the cookies for Josh?" Ashley asked nervously as she continued to eye the plate instead of answering him.

"That's not important. And anyways, it's my turn Ash. So I'll ask again: truth or dare Ashley?"

Ashley raised her eyes from the plate to transfer her nervous and mistrustful stare to him. "...truth," she answered slowly.

"Oh ho ho! So truth it is! Well then Ash, tell me: have you got any secrets you've been dying to share with us?"

Chris could immediately tell that the question had hit a sore spot on some sort, shoulders locked and her body stiff. "You know I'm not gonna answer that one. Pass."

Josh shook his head, a devious smile on his lips. "Nope. Nuh uh Miss Brown. That's not how this game works. If you're gonna pass then I'm gonna have to ask that you take a cookie in return."

"...I'm sorry, what? "

He waved a hand down towards the plate of cookies. "These, my dearest chums, are the fabled Truth or Dare cookies. Anytime one of us refuses to act out what is asked of us, we must then take a cookie in penance."

At first, Ashley doesn't move. She continues to dart her eyes suspiciously between Josh and the plate of cookies, but eventually slowly does reach out and hesitantly grab a chocolate cookie from the plate. She holds it up closer to her face to investigate it further, and Chris watches as all the tension she had stored up just evaporates from her as she physically deflates. "Oh my god, are you actually being serious right now Josh? ‘Dare’ brand cookies? Really? Why in the world are you trying to be so ominous when you went with a pun as lame as using Dare cookies in a game of truth or dare?"

"Wait, really?" Chris reaches out to grab one for himself but Josh smacks his hand away with a grin. 

"So sorry Cochise, but these are only for if you refuse. And trust me, you don't want to refuse." Josh turns back to Ashley. "Oh, and don't eat that just yet." 

In response, she just shrugs and leans back, but keeps the chocolate crème filled cookie in her hand as she looks between Chris and Josh. "It's my turn now, right? Okay, so—"

Josh cuts her off. "Nope, still mine. Now, Chris—"

"What? That's not how this stupid game works Josh!"

Josh waves her off. "You didn't answer my question Ash, or eat the cookie, so it's still my turn."

"But you just told me not to eat the stupid thing!"

Josh ignores her as he keeps his attention squarely on Chris. Who, to his own shame, has begun squirming in his seat in dread of what's going to come. "Well, Chris: truth or dare?"

Chris tosses the options over in his head. Both are terrible obviously, but playing this game with Josh of all people never ends well, so he decides to go with his gut instead. "Dare."

"Ooooh, feeling a little gutsy are we? That's fine, I can work with that. I dare you to... return the favour and do one thing you've been thinking about alllllllll summer."

Personally, Chris is finding it a miracle that he hasn't reached over and tried to strangle Josh yet, but he has a feeling that has more to do with the fact that he's trying not to shrivel up on the floor and die than out of any mercy. Even though Josh for some reason worded it in a really convoluted way, he just literally dared him to kiss Ash. It was so obvious that he was frankly amazed that Ashley hadn't figured it out yet.

Because of course he still thought about that kiss for good luck that Ash had given him in the library. He thought about it nearly all the damn time! Hell, Chris was pretty sure that the reason he had even passed his final even a little bit was because of the kiss. Not because it was good luck or anything, but because whenever a question appeared on the exam that asked about the themes or some shit about Lord of the Flies, he kept getting sent back into that library where Ashley had been drilling the same stuff into him just before she had kissed his cheek.

And there is absolutely no way that he's gonna kiss Ash in Josh's bedroom. No way in hell. Especially not when it's gonna reveal that he had been thinking about what was more than likely a super innocent and helpful gesture on her part.

So glaring at Josh, Chris reaches forward and without a word grabs a vanilla cookie. And for some strange reason, this only causes Josh's smile to widen. "I see, so that's what you both went with huh? Anyways, I think it's about time you take your 'reward' and chow down!"

Exchanging a confused look with Ashley, Chris nonetheless shrugs and pops the entire thing into his mouth and bites down.

And realizes in a horrifying instant that this is not a vanilla cookie.

There's a flash of light that blinds him for a second, and when the spots clear he sees Josh holding a camera and laughing his ass off.

"What the—? Is this fucking mayo dude?!" And it must be, because this is not what a vanilla cookie should ever taste like. While the cookie portion itself is okay if not a little soft, the crème is way too oily and eggy to be anything but mayo. Josh doesn't answer his question right away, but that's from a combo of laughing way too hard and being distracted by Ash trying not to retch in the middle of the bedroom floor.

"Oh my god! You put soy sauce in a cookie?! What is wrong with you Josh?!" She's up in a second and rushing to the garbage can near Josh's desk, and Chris is quick to join her in trying to spit everything out. "I'm never going to get this salt out of my mouth! Why would you even do that?!"

"Cause it's fucking hilarious that's why!" Josh is still laughing as he takes a look at the picture he took on the camera, and starts laughing harder. "Oh fucking hell, this was glorious. Oh wasting those two questions just for this picture was so worth it. Best decision I could have made!

"Now you two get your asses back over here! I spent hours on these cookies after all, and I am not letting them go to waste. We've got hours my friends, and so many questions and dares to get through."

Chris shares a look with Ashley over the garbage bin, both of them now obviously wondering if keeping their own secret had been worth having to eat those cookies, and if they still would have passed their turn knowing what exactly laid in store for them. While he certainly couldn't say a thing about her, Chris wasn't so sure if not kissing Ash and enduring all the fallout that would have resulted in was worth the terrible combination of vanilla and mayo in his mouth. He supposed he would never know, it was too late to simply retract his pass after all.

And well, he really didn't want to kiss Ash when she had just been tricked into eating a bunch of soy sauce.

You know, Ashley kind of figured that once she entered high school all of these stupid games would be done with. Surely high schoolers were too mature and too old to be playing childish games like spin-the-bottle or seven minutes in heaven? And yeah, obviously Chris and Josh weren't, but that was them and they were in a class all their own. But Hannah? And Sam and Beth? She would have thought that they were way too cool to be playing spin-the-bottle of all things, especially Beth.

And yet, here Ashley was: squeezed in between Matt and Sam as Matt spun the bottle around on the now extremely sticky hardwood floor. She wasn't stupid, she knew the entire reason the game was even being played in the first place; Hannah had been making eyes at Mike all through the evening and well into the game after all. She just didn't think that anyone else would have been stupid enough to go along with the game when Hannah suggested it. 

(Ashley knew very well why she had reluctantly agreed to play, she just didn't know why anyone else did.)

Though to be fair, it didn't seem like the game was gonna last much longer anyway. Emily and Jess had started scrolling through their phones ages ago, showing each other whatever was on the other's screen every few minutes and the two of them laughing. Mike had been tapping a really off-rhythm beat on his jeans with the straw from his can of soda and staring into space, while Hannah stared lovesick at him . Beth was starting to doze on Sam's shoulder, not that either seemed too concerned about it, and Sam was nervously eyeing all the spilt pop and chips around them that they were gonna have to clean up before they went to bed. Unsurprisingly, Chris was also scrolling through his phone, snickering every now and then as Ashley felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her hoodie whenever he sent whatever it was that he found funny to her and Josh. Josh meanwhile, had joined Matt in building a rather shaky—if not impressive—tower out of discarded plastic cups, straws, and paper plates.

Ashley yawned behind her hand as the bottle slowed it's spin. She had been ready to drop out of the game a round or two back, but hadn't yet because she didn't want to deal with the others teasing her on being a sore loser who backs down the moment the bottle didn't land on the person she wanted it to. Which would lead to Chris asking who it was even though everyone else already knew who because it was glaringly obvious to everyone except him. The sound of the bottle stopping its spin managed to get everyone's attention as they looked at the neck of the bottle pointed squarely at Mike. 

Everyone made the expected ' oooooooh ' and wolf whistles that everyone always did in this game, though quieter than they might have usually. Bob and Melinda were sleeping upstairs after all, and the last thing any of them wanted to do was wake them up and have them discover that despite it being nearly three in the morning, that the ten of them were still awake as the snow storm raged outside the lodge. Nonetheless, Matt and Mike both rolled their eyes and leaned over Josh who sat in the middle of them with a groan. Mike also didn't hesitate to take Matt's face into his hands and just plant one firmly on his mouth with no fanfare, other than the continued wolf whistles of course, and the two of them settled back down to their previous antics. 

With that done, Ashley stared down nervously at the bottle. Once again, she felt the words stick in her throat. It would just be so easy to say "Oh man you guys, it's really late, I should really just go to bed" but let them die without a fight as she swallowed nervously and gave the bottle a hard flick. She knew exactly why she let the words die, and it wasn't solely because of what the others would say, though that was certainly a large part of it. No, it was because of the same glimmer of hope that sparked in her everytime it was her turn at this stupid game. That maybe this would be the time that the bottle would land on Chris, that she would finally get that kiss she's wanted for three years now.

She watches the bottle spin around the group, slowing its motion every full spin, and she notices that Chris has turned his attention away from his phone to watch it almost as nervously as she is. Which should probably make her question just why Chris is as just as invested on who it's gonna land on as she is, but she's kind of distracted right now by the fact that her heart is rapidly picking up pace in direct contrast to how much slower the bottle is getting. And feels it stop almost entirely when the bottle begins its last revolution and she knows. She knows . It's finally gonna land on Chris. All these years of playing this stupid, stupid game and it's finally happening.  

Ashley's eyes shoot up to meet Chris's over the bottle, but that's also when the lodge suddenly plunges into darkness just before the bottle stops on him.

Immediately, the others are screaming next to her and the tower of cups and plates fall with a soft clatter.

"Oh my god! What the fuck was that?!"

"Holy fuck! Can you guys see anything?"

"Of course we can't see anything Michael!"

"It's probably just the storm you guys. Settle down."

"Can you guys please quiet down? My parents are sleeping and they're gonna kill us if they find out we're still awake."

Ashley isn't yelling though, because she's too busy screaming internally. There is no way that this is actually happening right now. There is no goddamn way. The bottle finally lands on Chris and the power goes out? Because of some stupid storm? She wanted to scream. She has half a mind to reach out and hold the bottle in place so there's proof of this when the power comes on, or to just jump over the distance and kiss Chris anyway. She knows exactly where he is after all, and he must have seen it land on him. He must have, right? It's that little second of uncertainty that decides for her, there's a sound as someone gets up and the flat 'thunk' as they accidentally kick the bottle across the room.

"Shit. My bad. You guys stay here, I'll go and check out the back-up generator in the basement. You coming, Cochise?"

Ashley can hear Chris awkwardly and quickly getting to his feet. "Um, y-yeah. Right behind you, bro."

The two of them walk away leaving Ashley to sit on the floor about to scream from the frustration of it all. And she does scream that it is, though not from almost having the perfect excuse to kiss Chris, but from someone touching her shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry!" Sam apologizes. "You were so quiet Ashley that I got nervous. I know that you're scared of the dark and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Oh, yeah. That's right. She was so preoccupied with the dark ruining what was almost going to be the highlight of her entire year , that she kind of forgot that it was, well, dark now. And once that realization hits her, so too does the fear that she's sitting in absolute darkness and can't see a single thing other than the lights being cast from everyone’s phones. That she has no idea what else—or who else—is out there. She frantically reaches out and wraps up Sam's arm in her own for a physical reminder that there is someone else she trusts in the darkness with her.

"Wait, you're scared of the dark Ash? Shit. Here, just give me a second." From next to her, Matt rustles in his jacket pocket and brings out his phone, turning it on and casting light around the room, and reflecting off the plastic bottle that Josh had accidentally kicked to the other side of the room. "Hope this helps a bit."

Ashley lets out a breath and a small smile. "Yeah, it does. Thanks Matt."

"No problem. Hey, I think I may have a funny video saved on here somewhere. Pretty sure I downloaded it so just give me a moment." He finds the video quickly enough, and while Ashley doesn't find it particularly as funny as he clearly did, she does appreciate the effort anyway.

Thankfully for everyone, the lights come back on soon enough. Though whether from the power coming back or the back-up generator activating, she isn't sure. It is enough to convince everyone that maybe it's time for bed though, and no one asks about her spin and who it landed on, which Ashley is both insulted for and thankful of in equal measure. Sam unfortunately reminds everyone of the mess they've all made of the great room though, and that they should all clean it up before Bob and Melinda wake up and find it, which Hannah and Beth eagerly echo, and so does Josh when he makes his way back up from the basement with scowling Chris in tow.

Thankfully, between the ten of them, the clean up takes very little time and they're all on their way back to their own rooms in record time, even if Ashley was too embarrassed to even look at Chris now. God, she couldn't believe that she had seriously considered jumping him! And for what? Just because some bottle told her to? Oh man, she never would have been able to live that down. She still spends more time then needed to get ready in the bathroom, and then laying in bed with her lamp on in the hopes that maybe Chris will knock on her door to confront her about the spin and ask for that kiss.

While the fact that he doesn't make an appearance doesn't surprise her, it's still a little depressing. 

Chris is going to kill Josh. He is going to kill him . And he means it this time. Years spent watching Josh's horror shit and listening to Ash go on and on about her mystery novels should have given him a real edge actually. He can murder Josh violently in the way that the weirdo would probably like to go and then Ash can help him get rid of the body so that no one will ever know it was him. Easy.

You know, assuming Ashley is still gonna want to even associate with him after this.

"You feeling okay, Chris? You're starting to look a little red... and surly."

"Yup, I'm fine. Just peachy in fact." Chris takes another swig of the punch that has somehow not been spiked yet, and tries to plaster a smile on his face for her only to once again start looking over her shoulder. Not that there's anything interesting over her shoulder of course, unless one finds a group of football seniors trying to play a game of chicken in the middle of the dance hall interesting, but it's easier than looking straight at her. Not because she looks terrible of course—good god is that not the reason—but because she is way too fucking gorgeous for him to handle right now.

When Chris had decided to invite her to his and Josh's grad thing, it had just been a way for all three of them to hang out and enjoy their last year of high school together. School rules dictated after all that for some stupid reason, graduates weren't allowed to invite anyone who wasn't in school anymore so Ash wasn't going to be able to ask them to hers next year. Which was complete and utter bullshit of course, but that was beside the point. It was supposed to be a fun night... and then Chris's parents found out. And being the complete pain in the asses they are, they insisted that if Ash was going to this party with them, and it was a formal party, then they needed to make this proper. So against his wishes and leaving Chris wanting to die, they went and found out what colour of dress Ash was going to be wearing and got him not only a matching tie but a fucking corsage to go with it! The only thing that had made all of that even a little better, was that they had forced Josh to go along with it so at least he wouldn't be alone. 

But then Josh had showed up not wearing his stupid tie and without the fucking flowers. And despite Chris's repeated protests that he didn't want to do the whole matching thing, especially if Josh wasn't doing it, his parents still made him do it anyway, saying all the while that 'it would make Ashley happy, you do want to make Ashley happy don't you?' And now here he was, sitting with Ashley at their table while she wore his stupid flowers on her wrist and his tie matched her green dress.

He hated how fucking obvious his crush was s0 much.

"...It's because of what everyone's been saying isn't it?"

At the dejected tone of her voice, Chris immediately snaps his full attention to her, leaving his glass of punch forgotten as he flaps his hands around in an effort to not reach out and grab at her hand. "What? No! God no! That isn't it I swear!"

Ashley sighs sadly as she looks glumly down at her lap. "It's fine Chris. I can understand if it's making you uncomfortable."

Chris takes one of his ineffectually flapping hands and makes to run it through his hair, before remembering the amount of gel he had put in it before coming and rubs at his eyes beneath his glasses. "I'm serious Ash, that's not it. I was honestly just thinking about the different ways I'm going to murder Josh when he gets back."

She laughs a little at that, and turns to look out into the direction of the buffet table, as though she'll be able to see Josh coming back with their food through the literal sea of people. "He has been gone a while hasn't he? He left like twenty minutes ago and he still isn't back. Do you think he even went to the buffet table in the first place?"

"He better have. Him coming back with food is probably about the only thing that's going to stop me from murdering him honestly."

Ashley laughs a little louder, and when she pushes a stray strand of hair that had come undone from her simply styled updo, Chris catches the while flowers on her wrist and feels his stomach flip pleasantly. "Any particular reason you want to kill Josh this time?"

"I mean, I have plenty but let's just be honest with ourselves here: do either of us ever need a reason to wanna kill Josh, Ash?"

And there it is, the surprised snort he was waiting for and that just made this entire evening a little more bearable. "God, you're not wrong." She follows his eye line to the corsage on her wrist and just like that all levity to the situation is gone as she hides her hands back in her lap under the table. "...you're sure that you're okay with what everyone is saying though?" she asks a little nervously.

Honestly? No, he isn't. Ever since the three of them walked into the party, everyone they had talked to right away had noticed the matching colours and the corsage and all comments had been the same. 'Fucking knew that there was something going on between you two' and 'Hey, it's about fucking time' or 'Always knew that you two would be good together'. It had been bad enough realizing that apparently almost everyone he had ever spoken to even a little bit had known of his super obvious feelings for his best friend, but the absolute worst thing had been the pained but polite smile that Ash had forced onto her face every single time.

"Honestly, I'm never going to see most of these people ever again once I graduate." He's avoiding the question, and he knows that she knows that he's avoiding the question. "But you're probably gonna have to deal with people brining this stupid thing up for the entire next year. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It's not like this is something I don't deal with already." She says it with a little shrug and smile, but Chris can feel his heart sink anyway. How long has she had to deal with the bullshit that his stupid crush has caused her, and why had she never told him? It's way too late to try and fix things, but he can at least hopefully try and stop any further comments from coming, so he lets his fingers fly to his tie and starts to frantically undo it. "...What are you doing Chris?"

"Wondering why on earth I let my parents talk me into this. This is obviously making you uncomfortable and I should have taken this stupid thing off ages ago." His fingers keep catching on the knot and he lets out a fairly explicit curse under his breath.

Ashley's eyes go wide with realization. "Oh!" She instantly flips over her wrist and starts fumbling at the clasp of the corsage with her other hand and Chris finds that his heart has somehow managed to travel all the way from the bottom of his stomach straight into his throat. Abandoning his only partially undone tie, he lays his hand on hers to stop her.

"You don't have to do that." She's staring at their hands in wide-eyed shock, and his breath catches. "Not if you don't want to, that is. It-it looks good on you."

"Okay," she whispers softly, eyes still wide as her fingers leave her wrist, "I can leave it on."

"Only if you want to though." When the hell did his mouth get so dry?!  

"I do," she looks up to him when she says it, and the earnestness of her smile bowls him over. "I really, really do." In an effort to try and distract himself from her smile, he starts fumbling at his tie once again and he catches her eyes flickering to it. Ashley's smile somehow only brightens as she laughs at him. "Here. Let me give you a hand with that."

She scoots her chair closer to him and he removes his hands from his tie so she can take over. The two of them say nothing as she places all of her attention on continuing to loosen the knot, while Chris tries his absolute hardest not to swallow...or breathe...or do anything at all really, as he just stares down at her in awe.

Once the knot is finally undone, Ashley slowly pulls the entire length of fabric from his neck and places it on the table, before putting her hands back where they were so she can carefully smooth out his shirt collar. And when she looks back up at him with a smile, he can feel the entire world stop as they just stare at each other and Chris slowly starts to close the infinitesimally small distance between them. And he's probably just imagining things, but he thinks that she's doing the same thing as well.

"Jesus Christ, sorry it took so long you guys. Line for the fucking food was longer then you would believe!"

The two of them fly apart so fiercely, that Chris's entire chair manages to tip over backwards and send him to the ground with a loud clatter. He can feel everyone's eyes on them and the murmurs that follow, and he hopes that they're mistaking the redness of his face for the embarrassment of falling out of his chair. Yeah, that's a story that's going to make the rounds before he graduates for sure.

"Shit, you okay bro?" From his spot on the floor, Chris watches Josh place a couple of plates absolutely piled high in food on the table and reach down to help him up with a laugh. "Oh hey, I see you finally decided to take off that stupid tie too. Surprised it took you this long honestly."

Chris accepts Josh's hand up. "Yup, me too." He hopes and prays that Josh just thinks that the absolutely breathless and stunted quality to his words is that he's just a little winded from the fall. Once he gets his chair back up and sits back down, he grabs at the tie to shove it in his pocket. He notices that Ashley is refusing to look at him as she digs out a couple of sandwiches from the miscellaneous pile of food, even as she fiddles with the strap of flowers on her wrist for the rest of the meal.

He's exceptionally thrilled to note that she does keep the corsage on the rest of the night though.

Five times. That's how many times her phone has gone off in her pocket. Five. Times. And every single time Ashley lets out a sigh of relief when the buzzing finally stops, it goes off again only seconds later. And checking the caller id the first couple of times only showed that it was Josh calling her. Normally Ashley liked to think that she would have answered her phone if it was literally anyone else, but this was Josh. He called for every little thing after all; from letting her know that he saw a super big dog on the way home from classes to informing her that he was out of chips and if Ash could pick some up on her way to meet them from her job then that would really just be swell. And considering that he and Chris were supposed to meet her and grab a bite to eat together while she was on her lunch break, he was probably just calling to let her know that they had just left, and to make a milestone out of every block closer the two of them got so she could greet them with all the pomp and circumstance he likely thought he deserved. 

Though to be fair she probably would have answered her phone after the third ring, if only to tell him off, but Jared had been giving her a stink eye from his office pretty much since she had arrived so she hadn't.

So she let it buzz...and buzz...and buzz. Until finally, her phone stopped yet again and she tensed her shoulders ready for the next round of vibrations to start. But there was nothing. Nothing but blissful silence coming from her pocket and she let out a huge sigh of relief as Ashley got back to work shelving some of the new stock, letting Kyrstin and Curtis deal with the short line of customers that had begun to form as they bought their books and whatever little trinkets littered the entire front of the store.

She hoped Chris and Josh got here soon, she was overdue for her lunch break and the smells coming out of the nearby food court were calling her name. Particularly the chinese place, she had been craving them for the last week at least . Plus, Jared had been raking her over coals about how her availability was going to drop dramatically once she started college in the next couple of weeks, and one of the creepy regulars had followed her around the store for-freaking- ever (she's pretty sure he had been staring at her ass the whole time too honestly) until Curtis had basically shoved her into the back room to let her escape while he covered for her. And surprise surprise, Jared hadn't been too thrilled about her 'abandoning her post' and yelled at her about that too. 

Whoever said that working in a bookstore was a lazy job where she got to read books in her free time was a dirty, rotten liar. It was hell on earth and she was going to slowly tear the fingernails off whoever it was that said it (even though she had a sinking feeling it had probably be Ashley herself that said it back when she romanticized working in bookstores when she was, like, ten ). God, she really really needed that Chinese if she had any plans of surviving the last four hours of her shift.

The phone at the front desk behind her begins to ring, but a quick backwards glance has her realizing that with poor Curtis trying to deal with an older woman who is adamant that the book he's trying to sell her is the wrong one because she is 'positive that the book had a light purple cover and this one is lavender, that is two different colours and I want the right book now ' and Kyrstin being forced to deal with the rest of the line herself, that Ashley's the one who's going to have to answer the phone. With a groan of resignation (she hated answering the phone at work but Jared was in a horrendous enough mood as it was), she stood up and made her way over, repeating the greeting she was going to have to say over and over in her head so she (hopefully) wouldn't mess it up. And taking a deep breath, and repeating the greeting once more in her head, she forced a smile to her face as she picked up the handset.

"Hi! Thanks for calling—"

"Fucking finally Ash."

In an instant, Ashley could feel every ounce of nervous energy violently expel from her body as she nearly doubled over with another groan, this one entirely of exhaustion. She took quick glance over her shoulder, but Jared seemed to busy with another phone call in his office thankfully. "What are you doing Josh?!" she whispered angrily, "I'm at work right now you moron!"

"Uh yeah, I know. Why do you think I called you using this number?"

Ashley gave Kyrstin an apologetic and pained smile when she looked at her curiously, who responded with a good-natured shake of her head and a laugh under her breath as she turned to help the next customer. "Well, you didn't have to call here."

"Kinda did, Ash. You kept ignoring me."

"I was ignoring your calls you butt, you could have just texted me instead you know."

"Hmmm, no. Anyways I tried calling to tell you that Chris and I might not be able to meet up with you for lunch."

Ashley felt disappointment flood her entire being. "Oh. I see. But you really could have just—"

"We're at the hospital while Chris gets some x-rays done."

Immediately any disappointment fled her body as Ashley all but collapsed on the counter for support as her legs gave out on her. "Is he okay?! Oh god, is he okay Josh?!"

There's a pause on the phone and all Ashley can hear is her own blood pounding in her ears. He has to be okay. He has to be, he just has to be!

"I dunno, it was a pretty gnarly fall. Don't know if he'll ever truly recover, there was a lot of screaming after all."

Ashley doesn't even respond as she slams down the phone and turns to Kyrstin and Curtis who are looking at her in shock as her entire world falls to pieces around her. "I-I have to go. Chris is... Chris is..." she can't get anymore out with how it feels like someone is ripping her heart out of her chest. "Josh said he's in the hospital and...and..."

Curtis nods quickly as he runs to the staff room, and Kyrstin just starts shoving her towards the door as they all ignore the customers who are standing around awkwardly. "Go. We got this."

Ashley turns her head towards Jared's office. "But I gotta—and, and I need to grab my stuff—

"Nope. You go. Curtis and I will figure something out, and Becks arrives for her shift in another half hour. We can manage just fine until then. You just get out of here right now."

Ashley doesn't try to fight anymore than that, not with how hard she's fighting to hold back breaking down in the middle of the store after all. Curtis meets her at the entrance with her bag and shoves it into her arms. "Do you need me to call you a taxi, or give you a ride, or anything? Kyrstin can drag Jared out of his cave if she's gotta." Next to him, Kyrstin nods furiously in agreement.

Ashley has never loved anyone as much as she loves her coworkers in this instant. "No, my-my mom gave me the car for today."

With that little bit of approval, and a random customer shouting ‘I hope he's okay hun!’ at her, the two of them shove Ashley into the mall itself and the very instant she crosses that threshold she takes off running, shoving her way through people and nearly falling down the stairs in her effort to get to the parking lot as quickly as she can. She is so, so glad that her mom basically forced the car on her today instead of letting her take the bus as originally planned, she doesn't know how she would have lasted if she'd had to wait for a taxi to arrive and pick her up.

As it is, once she's finally (and somehow safely) managed to arrive at the hospital and found a spot to park, she's nonplussed about the fact that she didn't leave any imprints in the steering wheel from how hard she had been gripping it the whole drive over. She fumbles with the clasp on her seatbelt with shaking hands, almost bursting into tears about that fact alone, but she eventually manages to free herself and basically throws herself out of the car, only remembering to lock the door behind her when she's about halfway to the hospital doors.

The moment she bursts into the waiting room, Josh is sitting there waiting for her. He looks up at her in surprise as she hurries towards him, then down at his phone and back up at her again as he gives a low whistle. "Shit Ash, how many laws did you break to get here that fast?"

She ignores him. "What happened?! How is he?! Just tell me he's okay! Please, please tell me he's okay!"

"I mean, I suppose he's as fine as he could be considering the circumstances." He seems to sense that she's about ready to scream at him so he quickly follows up with "He's on the second floor, in room 272 if you want to see him."

Ashley doesn't even bother to thank him as she bolts to the nearby elevator, frantically pushing the 'Call Elevator' button nonstop until the door opens and then doing the same thing to the second floor button as it carries her up. Her eyes are burning in an effort to hold back her tears but she can tell that the dam is about to burst any second, especially with how long this elevator is taking to move. She doesn't even wait for the doors to open fully, squeezing through them the moment they're wide enough and accosting some poor nurse until he points her down the correct hall. She hurries the rest of the way, staring at every number on the wall until she finds room 272. And then she stops, her hand on the door knob as she braces herself for whatever she's going to find. Chris lying in bed, covered in blood and bandages with a heart monitor beeping next to him, just broken and shattered beyond all repair. With a choked back sob she opens the door—

and finds Chris sitting on the bed looking up at the ceiling bored to tears with a splint wrapped around his pinky and ring finger on his right hand.

"Finally! I thought you would never get here, so if we could just get this over with—" he looks over at her standing in the doorway shell shocked and still in her work uniform and jumps to his feet. "A-Ash?! What the hell are you doing here— Wait, did you just come here straight from work?! "

"You're okay?" Ashley hates how small her voice comes out, "You're really okay?"

"What? Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Who told you—"

Spell broken, Ashley’s bag falls from her shoulder to the ground with a small clatter and she dives towards Chris, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Oh thank god. Oh thank god. " Chris starts to return the hug, likely more than a little confused about what's going on, but she's already moved so her hands are on either side of his face as she tugs him down to her level so she can get a better look at him. Twisting and turning his head this way and that as she looks for any bruises or cuts. "Josh told me that there had been an accident and—"

"Ash!" Chris interrupts her by taking her wrists in his hands—though he winces at the pain that likely forms as a result of doing so—and speaks as calmly and reassuringly to her as he can. "Ash, it's okay. I'm fine . I promise. I just tripped earlier that's all."

Ashley takes in the sight of the scuffed up palms of his hands, and the holes in the knees of his jeans that certainly hadn't been there before, and knows that Chris is telling the truth. Though it doesn't explain the splint on his hand.

"Okay, and I might have broken my finger doing so."

Ashley just stands there so dumbfounded and relieved in equal measure, that she blurts out "Josh said that there had been screaming."

To her surprise, Chris only gives an embarrassed groan as he stares at an area just over her shoulder "God, Josh is never gonna let me live that down is he? Okay, so my finger may not have been the only thing that broke..." Confused, mainly because except for the bandaged finger and ripped jeans he seems perfectly okay, Ashley looks over her shoulder and follows his eyes to his phone laying on the counter just behind her. The screen completely shattered to hell and back with no promise of life anywhere on it. Just the dead, black screen reflecting the ceiling above on its cracked surface 

"Wait," Ashley starts to feel the relieved giggles try to break free as her nerves finally settle, "are you telling me that you broke your finger but you were more worried about your phone? "

Chris sputters as he starts to wave his splinted finger infront of her face. "I mean obviously! This doesn't cost me any money to fix Ash; that's what health care's for! But my phone? Do you know how expensive that thing's going to be to replace? How many paychecks I'm going to have to put towards it? All the money I saved up this summer for school: gone! All because of a stupid little sidewalk curb!"

Ashley can't help it, she starts laughing uncontrollably as she collapses into a nearby chair with her head in her hands. "Oh, I am going to kill Josh when I see him, kill him! And then Jared's gonna kill me for bailing at work and not telling him! God, and I just left in the middle of a rush too! Remind me to buy Kyrstin and Curtis a cake or flowers or something as an apology. Oh my god ."

"You just ditched work? Ash!" Chris falls back onto the bed as he laughs with her. "Why would you even do that in the first place?!"

"Josh told me that you were in the hospital getting x-rays! What was I supposed to think?"

Chris rubs at his eyes beneath his glasses. "I asked him to let you know that we were probably gonna be a little late for lunch while I waited to get my cast! Fucking hell, I'm so sorry."

"Am I interrupting anything or..."

The two of them turn to see a doctor looking up at them with an upturned brow, and holding what Ashley assumes (and hopes) to be the materials needed for Chris's cast. "This is Chris Hartley's room correct?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's me."

The doctor nods, and walks towards Chris, but stops in front of the chair Ashley is sitting in. "I'm sorry, but I will be needing that chair sweetheart." With a squeak of apology, Ashley jumps out the chair and moves back by the door so fast that she's almost certain that she had managed to teleport over there, almost tripping over her forgotten bag in the process. Red-faced, she picks it back up and goes to leave (and possibly strangle Josh violently) but is stopped by the same doctor as she sits down in the chair with a chuckle, shaking her head. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to. It'll only take a couple of minutes to get this cast on and then he'll be free to leave with you." 

Now even more red-faced (if that was even possible), Ashley just slowly shuffles over to the table where Chris's (broken) phone and wallet is, nervously fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she waits for Chris to get the cast on. Taking Chris's hand in her own, the doctor—Dr. Klorens her name tag reads—scowls at the now slightly bent fingers in the splint, which Chris only gives a sheepish shrug and smile to, and sighs as she unwraps his fingers so she can reset the splint. And Ashley blanches at the deep, dark bruises that spread all the way from the middle of his pinky to nearly halfway down his palm that she had completely failed to notice earlier before those are once again lost. 

And as promised, once the Dr. Klorens has put the cotton sleeve over his hand and trimmed it to the desired length, it only takes her another couple of minutes to wrap starting from the center of his forearm and all the way up to the center of his palm and then finally finishing with his splinted fingers. As the three of them wait for the fibreglass material to dry, Dr. Klorens goes over the do's and don'ts of cast care, which Ashley takes serious note of because she knows that Chris won't. Especially the 'do NOT get the cast wet' part, he's gonna forget about that one the moment Josh tries to bait him into another water gun fight.

"Alright, I think that's about it. Just come back in three weeks so we can do another x-ray to check and make sure that the bone's all healed up before we remove it. Just let someone know that you're done with the room when you leave, and remember to check out at the front desk." She gathers up her supplies and makes to leave, but stops to look over her shoulder at them with an amused smile on her face. "Oh, and if you two take the stairs, just make sure that you're careful. I know that we're in a hospital already, but I don't think any of us want to deal with any more tripping instances. Especially if they result in another broken bone." After waiting for Chris and Ashley to meekly agree to be careful, she finally leaves the two of them alone once again.

"Welp, that's it for my summer. 'Fraid I'm nothing but a cripple now."

Sighing, Ashley turns to Chris with a tired smile. "You are not a cripple, oh my god. You have a broken finger, you didn't lose the entire arm you dork."

Incensed, Chris waves his cast at her. "Um, do you not see this thing Ash? I may as well have. I've lost the use of two of my fingers now! Two! And on my right hand to boot. I can't hold a controller to play games with, I can't type, I can't text. What am I supposed to do Ash if I can't hold a single thing in my dominant hand anymore?"

"I'm sure you'll manage," she dryly responds. "Now come on, let's get out of here. I have to figure out how in the world I'm going to explain this to Jared so he doesn't fire me."

"Pretty sure that you should just let him if you ask me."

Ashley groans in agreement, but says "It's only another couple of weeks until college starts. Just hoping I can hold out until then, I need the money after all."

Chris lets out a resigned breath but then starts eyeing her work apron. "You got a sharpie in there?"

"Um, I think so. Why?"

"Uh, so you can sign my cast, duh. You missed out when I broke my arm when I was like nine, so you can be the first to get your name on this one."

"Trying to weasel my autograph out of me huh?" Ashley asks even as she digs through one of her pockets to pull out the sharpie in question, and joins Chris to sit next to him on the bed.

Chris laughs. "Damn, you figured out my devious plan. Thing’s gonna be worth a fortune when you make it onto the bestsellers list one day. Gonna be fighting off all sorts of crazed and fanatic fans."

Ashley shakes her head as she chuckles and writes her name on his arm, but pauses when she caps the pen. Seeing her name on his cast suddenly pulls everything back into vivid clarity, and she remembers the panic she had felt when she had thought—when she had believed —that she had nearly lost him. That this was it, that he was here one day and gone the next, and she hadn't even told him how much he meant to her. How important he was to her. She watches as a drop of water splashes down onto the cast and she finds herself wondering if there's a leak in a room upstairs.

"What the—Ash? Are you crying?"

"Huh?" She wipes her eyes, and a surprised but weak laugh escapes when her hand comes away wet. "Oh, I guess I am. Sorry about that, you're supposed to keep the cast dry and here I am crying—"

Chris places his left hand on her cheek to help wipe away some of her tears. "Oh fuck, I really freaked you out didn't I? Fucking hell. I'm—"

"Do you promise not to hate me?"

The look Chris gives her is nothing short of bamboozled. "Hate you? Ash, what's going on with you?"

"Do you promise not to hate me? Please Chris, I really, really need you to promise me this. Please . Do you promise not to hate me?" She’s fully aware that she’s practically begging right now, silent tears flowing down her cheeks, but if it gets Chris to promise then she’ll gladly throw away her pride for this one thing.

"Yeah, I-I promise. Will you just—"

Ashley doesn't give him anytime to finish his sentence before she's squeezing her eyes shut and she surges up to kiss him. She doesn't want to see his expression, not when all she wants is just to remember everything else that is happening. Remember the feel of his lips before he pulls away, and the warmth of his hand on her cheek. In fact, she spends so much time trying to memorize what she is sure is only going to be a single shared kiss, that it takes her a few seconds longer than she would like to admit to realize that Chris's hand isn't on her cheek anymore, it's moved to the back of her neck so he can kiss her back . The shock of which is enough for her to break the kiss and stare at him with wide eyes.

"Wh—" that's all she can get out before Chris is pulling her back in for a second kiss, and this time she lets her eyelids flutter close as she completely melts into, throwing her arms around his neck to hold him closer.

Ashley's not sure how long they stay like that—could have been an eternity, could have only been a couple of seconds—before they're both pulling back with their faces flushed and giggling like morons.

"Wow," Chris says after a moment, "I don't know what made you think I could hate you after that , but wow . If I had known that this would be the reaction I get, I would have broken my finger years ago."

There's something about the way he says it that has Ashley's heart beating even faster. "How long?" she demands breathlessly, "Tell how long ago?"

Somehow, Chris manages to flush even deeper. "I dunno, like... six? I guess?"

Six years. He'd had a crush on her for six years and she'd had no idea. The moment the realization hits her she starts laughing. "I knew you were trying to ask me for a kiss back in seventh grade! I should have just chased you down and given you one anyway!"

This time, it's Chris who starts laughing at the realization. "Wait, you liked me too?! Then that kiss, back in the library...?"

"You still remember that?!"

"Remember it? Ash, that stupid little cheek kiss is the only reason I passed that final I'm sure! Hell, why else do you think Josh dared me to kiss you in truth and dare?"

"What? No he didn't!"

Chris shakes his head as he moves his hand from her neck to around her waist. "He did! He told me to 'return the favour' and all I had been thinking about that summer was kissing you back. Fucking hell, I almost killed him when he pulled me away to get that generator working that winter in the lodge."

"Oh my god, I almost jumped across the floor to you that night when the power went out after the bottle landed on you."

"You didn't!"

Chris sounded so scandalized at the idea that Ashley presses her forehead to his as her smile widens, which only causes his own to widen in turn. "I did! But then Josh pulled you away and I just completely lost my nerve." She starts laughing at the next memory. "Oh god, I kept my lamp on in my room after that hoping you would stop by if you thought I was still awake."

The answering gape in shock was all she needed before she broke into more giggles. "I saw that! I don't know how long I hovered outside your door trying to work up the courage to knock before talking myself out of it. I think I just convinced myself that the outage had freaked you out badly enough that you needed the extra light to get to sleep."

Once the giggles started to lessen, the smiles on their faces did so as well, softening to something warmer and infinitely more cozy. "I almost kissed you, you know," Ashley confessed shyly. "Back at your grad party."

"Yeah, I-I almost kissed you too. And, just so you know, I wasn't lying then. The flowers looked really really good on you." 

"That's good to hear," she admits as she leans in closer, her lips brushing his so lightly it's almost a caress, "I kept them, after all."

Nothing more is said as Chris closes the distance between them again to kiss her, and even though she knows that they really should get back downstairs, she doesn't try to stop it.

They have a long six years to make up for after all.

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: This... fried my brain cells. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to WRITE... I’m not sure if any of this flows properly but it’s 5AM right now, I am tired, I am jetlagged, I’ve forgotten how to speak English, but this is the best I can do and I guess that’s all that matters. Anyway, RIP Y/N you’re about to have a bad time. *megalovania intensifies* || W.C. 2.7K

prev // part 27 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

Despite the summer heat already dwindling as the cooler months start to settle in, the sun still shines strongly in Ilsan. Sweat drips down your back like a faucet, the shade of the trees doing little to protect you from the midday heat. Namjoon had offered to relocate to one of the small air-conditioned cafes just outside of the park, but you chose to bear the heat instead, more interested in enjoying the packed lunch his mother had prepared for the two of you and observe the people milling about.

“Your mom is a cooking goddess,” you say with a large grin, moaning unabashedly as you chowed down on her homemade kimchi. Completely immersed in the pleasure that is Mrs. Kim’s food, you forget all semblance of dignity as you make it your goal to get all the food into your body as quickly as you can. “God, her food is so fucking good. How can you even bear leaving home?”

Namjoon chuckles, eating at a significantly more humane and dignified pace. “Believe me, it was hard choosing to study in Seoul for university, but it was a sacrifice I had to make. I’m just lucky that I live relatively close, so I can visit them every once in a while.”

“Then you oughta invite me over again some time. The dinner last night? I dreamt about nothing but her galbitang,” you say with bits of food still in your mouth, but Namjoon doesn’t seem all that phased. He’s gotten used to it, or so you hope. Habits die hard when you’ve been stuck with animals (read: boys) as friends for the last ten years.

“You can come over anytime. Though I’m not sure if you would want to, since then you’ll have to keep pretending to be my girlfriend if we do…” Namjoon trails off, his gaze lowering back to his food. His lips purse, brow crumpling in that way you’ve come to realize was he was overthinking again. “N-not that you’d have to. Pretend to be my girlfriend, that is. I can p-probably just bring home some packed lunches to Seoul whenever I come over, or something then you could—“

“Namjoon,” you call out to him, snapping him out from his rambling. You place your container of food down on the grass, raising your hands up as if in surrender. Confused, Namjoon is about to ask what you’re doing before you promptly smack him (gently), grabbing his cheeks and squeezing them together until he looks like a cute (and incredibly bemused) pufferfish.

“Huwah?” Namjoon tries to speak, but your grip on his face prevents him from moving even an inch. “Y/N?”

“Namjoon, I know we’re fake dating and all and I did agree to go with you to see your parents just this one time, but is it that hard to get it through that thick skull of yours?”  you say, eyes boring into his as you try to communicate your feelings. After a few moments of staring, you sigh tiredly when the look of confusion refuses to leave his face, his eyebrows raised in both astonishment and uncertainty. This fucking idiot, you think tiredly to yourself, but it’s hard to stay annoyed at him, not when he looks so cute with his cheeks squished between your hands.

You continue, “Aren’t we friends? Doesn’t that mean I would do anything for you, even if that means pretending to be your fake girlfriend as many times as I have to?”

Realization finally dawns on Namjoon’s face, but it is quickly replaced by sheepishness. “Oh, I guesh sho…” he says dejectedly. “Showwy.”

“Good. Now stop being so insecure!” you huff, pinching his cheek for good measure before you release him. He rubs his jaw gingerly, pouting like a child who had just been scolded.

“Okay, I promise… Sorry,” he repeats, rubbing his neck in shame.

But even then… you aren’t satisfied. Not until he can really get over his insecurity, but you suppose this is going to have to suffice for now. You can tell that Namjoon still has some ongoing conflict happening inside of him that he doesn’t seem willing to share with you as of now. You desperately want to pry, but you know more than anyone how frustrating it can be when someone tries a little too hard to help you, even if getting into right up in your business comes from a place with good intentions. He deserves to set his own pace, and you are more than willing to be patient with him (most of the time, at least. Some pinching and prodding may be useful along the way.)

“I’m not gonna leave you, you know? You’re stuck with me for life unfortunately, so you’re going to have to deal with me for the rest of yours. That was my only condition when I agreed to be your fake girlfriend, remember?” you say, giggling lightly at his dumbfounded expression. “Unless you’re tired of me already? I can always leave,” you tease.

“No!” Namjoon exclaims suddenly, nearly slapping himself in the face when he brings his hand to his mouth. A few families also eating at the park look at the two of you in alarm, but Namjoon can only bow to them apologetically. When he turns back to you, his cheeks are reddened slightly, though that could also be from being under the sun for so long. He scratches his nose: another nervous tick of his. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scream like that. I just… No, I’m not tired of you. I don’t think that’s even possible. You’re one of the greatest people I know and I like hanging out with you.”

“I…” You’re shocked by his sudden proclamation, stuttering as you try to formulate a response. You cough in embarrassment, shifting your gaze elsewhere, anywhere, away from Namjoon’s earnest expression. It’s a complete 360 from the shy schoolboy persona he had just moments ago. “Thank you… I guess? I’m just… Wow, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Switch modes so quickly like that? One moment you’re a bumbling buffoon and then the next second you’re saying sweet shit like it’s nothing!” You huff, hoping that your own cheeks aren’t heating up. “Seriously. Are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Namjoon lets out a short guffaw; the sound familiar to you as the one that he makes when he doesn’t know what to say. You don’t know how or when you had gotten so adept at differentiating his multiple ticks, but it makes you feel… special, for lack of a better word. You wonder if he notices things about you, too.

“I think I would be the first to know if I had a girlfriend. I suppose you’re the closest thing I have,” Namjoon says. When you look back at him, you can see that he’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, at least my parents think you’re the real deal. You were really good last night, by the way. My mom wouldn’t stop gushing about you when you went to bed.”

“Oh God, you guys talked about me when I went to bed?” You gasp in horror, worst-case scenarios flying through your head even though realistically, you know you had been perfectly normal during the entire evening. You had even practiced in front of the mirror the week before, rehearsing the lines you’d have to say should his parents ask the usual relationship questions. You memorized the story the two of you came up with: how the two of you had met, how you’d gotten together, how long you’d been dating… It was all so ingrained in your brain that it almost felt real, sometimes.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, poking you lightly on the nose. “No, it was nothing bad. You were perfect, like always. I doubt my parents could ever hate you even if they tried. You were wonderful.”

You nod slowly, still slightly unconvinced. “Okay… If you say so. I just don’t want to mess things up for you, you know?”

Namjoon slings an arm around your waist, inadvertently causing you to scoot closer to him until you could comfortably lay your head on his shoulder. You tilt your head upwards, your breath hitching when you realize how close your faces were to each other.

“I suppose we’re both dummies then, huh? I know this is hypocritical of me to say, but don’t be so insecure, okay? We got this. We’re fine.” Namjoon’s voice dips into a whisper, his forehead nearly touching yours. When he’s close like this, you can smell the kimchi in his breath; not an unpleasant scent by any means, but you do wonder if he’d taste good if you’d leaned in right now and kissed him—

“Y/N, you have rice on your chin,” Namjoon interrupts your train of thought, catching you off guard. You yelp, sitting straight up and separating from him like you had been shocked. Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, as he seems more intent on wiping away the stray rice grains than anything else. When he flicks them away, he smiles at you endearingly, his dimples on display for your mortal eyes.

“Um,” you stammer, rubbing your chin belatedly. “T-thanks…”

“Y/N, are you okay? You’re getting kind of red. Maybe we should head back? We’ve been under the sun for a while.” He grabs his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it as he fumbles with it before he finally manages to take a look at the time. “Oh, damn. It’s already almost 4. We better head out if you want to go look around the shopping district,” he says, packing up his mom’s containers. “Do you want to finish your food?”

You still had a bit of food left, but your appetite had strangely disappeared. So instead, you help him pack up, ready to get out of there and get your mind off of weird things. This is fine, you’re just being weird because of the bad week you had. Let’s try to relax, you remind yourself, but even you think your words sound weak.

Disgruntled and shaky, you trail after Namjoon in silence, content to just listen to him explain certain landmarks to you as you walk towards the nearby shopping street.

“I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but if we have time, we could probably visit my old high school on our way back. There’s a small park near it where I used to hide whenever I didn’t want to go home,” Namjoon says, chuckling at the memory. “My life used to be a constant cycle of going to school and coming home to study some more, so my mom would throw an absolute fit whenever I came home late, but she could never figure out where my hiding spot was.”

You snort, smiling at the thought of a rebellious Namjoon. It’s hard to imagine, especially with how hardworking he is with all his side projects that you’ve caught glimpses of when he had shown you his workshop. “Are you sure you want to show me your spot? What if I tell your mom?”

Namjoon laughs, eyes crinkling from the sheer force of it. The sight of him laughing causes you to pause for a moment, caught off guard by how… good he looks, when he looks so honest, so vulnerable. Namjoon smiles a lot, but you’ve never seen him this cheery, like the sun had come down to earth for the day. You like it a lot; you want to be able to make him express himself honestly like that all the time.

“If you tell my mom, then she’ll know for sure that you’re the one for me,” he jokes, the remnants of his joy still present in his eyes. He winks cheekily at you, making the tips of your ears redden ever so slightly. “There are many nooks and crannies I’d love to show you around Ilsan, but we only have a weekend here, unfortunately. If you could stay another day, I could probably show you around more.”

“I mean… I could, if you want me to,” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You inhale sharply, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes popping out when you realize what you had said.

“I just! I don’t mean to intrude, of course—“

“Y-you don’t have to stay! It was just wishful thinking, of course—“

You both speak at the same time, talking over the other as you both try to explain yourselves. You both stop speaking simultaneously as well, causing the two of you to burst into laughter. You’re doubled over, giggling as tears of mirth slide down your cheeks at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“God, why are we so awkward together? I thought I was bad, but I guess pairing two socially inept losers really has doubled our power, huh?” you say.

“I know. You’d think we only just met yesterday or something.” Namjoon scratches his nose bashfully, but the same honest smile is still on his face. “But if what you said was true, then… I’d love to have you around for another day, if you want to stay? Like I said, I love hanging out with you. This is honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long while,” he says shyly. He coughs into his fist, pupils shaking as he stares resolutely at your chin.

“Me… me too. I’m having a lot of fun too,” you admit, your cheeks heating up involuntarily. You both turn to look away, embarrassed by each other’s sudden confession. What is going on with me today? you wonder idly, forcing your rapidly beating heart to calm.

“Er, well. We’re almost at the shopping district,” Namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to wave off the suddenly awkward atmosphere. He points ahead, where you can see rows of shops and booths of all shapes and sizes, selling anything and everything you can imagine. “You’re the guest here, so you choose. What shop do you want to head to first?”

“That reminds me. Jimin had asked me to buy this skin product from some store around here. Let me check the brand; he texted me the photo before we left,” you say, rummaging for your phone in your bag. Admittedly, you haven’t been using your phone all day asides from taking and posting the occasional photo, keeping it on silent and do not disturb to stop unwanted text messages from disturbing your time with Namjoon. You know you had a few messages from your group chat that you’ve left to read for later, but it’s only now that you realize that you had another message waiting from a person you would rather not speak to at all.

“Oh geez, what does that whore want?” You sigh, going against your better judgment and opening it anyway. “I swear, if Seokjin is using me as a booty call now of all times, I’m going to rip his ass in two the next time I—“

“Y/N? You okay?” Namjoon asks when he notices you have suddenly stopped speaking. He had been walking continuously, assuming that you were following behind him only to find that you were frozen in place a few steps away, staring holes into your phone screen. He walks over back to you, concern flickering in his eyes when he approaches you. “Hey, what’s up? Did you get an important text or something?”

“No, it’s nothing important. It’s…” You sigh, not knowing what to say. Your lips begin to wobble as your senses are assaulted by confusion, pain, and heartache all at once—all because of a single text message. Your eyes start to well up, but you blink them away. You’re quick to wave off Namjoon’s slow growing panic at your sorry state, not wanting to ruin his day with your stupid emotional breakdown.

“Y/N. Who texted you? What is it? You can tell me, I promise I won’t judge you,” he whispers kindly, taking your free hand in his own. He rubs comforting circles into your palm, his brow scrunched up in worry as he watches you fight to keep your tears at bay. “Y/N?”

You take a shuddering breath.

[claymorecut]

WE SHOULD STOP ARGUING LIKE THIS

Gintsu week // Day 2

PROMPT: FIRST TIME

××××××

The school hours were finally over for the day. The sun was already setting, painting the sky with red and orange hues as the students and staff members left the campus one after another. The corridors were now completely silent; with the doors locked and lights turned off, not a single speck of noise could be heard in the school.

Well, except for the faint voices coming from the one store room around the corner of the third floor which was apparently under maintenance.

They knew they were stuck inside. They knew he shouldn't have pulled the door close even the slightest because the lock was broken and it was a windy day and damnit, why wasn't this a sliding door!? The room was so small and packed with old documents and broken desks that there was hardly any space for two people to stand in a good distance. And the best part, the dim sunlight coming from the tiny window and the broken light switch was the cherry on top in this miserable situation.

"Now what?" Tsukuyo asked as she let go off the door knob in defeat once again.

"What do you want me to say?" Ginpachi replied calmly as he took a seat on a nearby desk. "I've already tried opening the door plenty of times and it's stuck."

"Ginpachi, It's almost six-thirty and we have been stuck here for almost half and hour now!" Tsukuyo spoke, her voice a little higher than before. "Nobody seems to be coming here either. Do you want to spend the night here!?"

Even in the dim light, Tsukuyo could see the teasing smirk growing on his face. "I don't have any problem with that."

She really wanted to punch him. Of all the times, he had to flirt with her right now but seriously, she was just not in the mood to listen to his nonchalant comments. "You do know it was your fault, right?"

Ginpachi knew he was the one who pulled the door slightly but not completely closed it because hey, that was a habit of his apparently and he had no idea that Tsukuyo was right behind the shelf and if he had any idea the wind was going to be a bitch today of all days and that it was going to lock them both inside by pushing the door with its stupid force, he would have never entered the store room in the first place!

"It was not my fault! It was the wind!"

"Sakamoto-san notified the whole school yesterday that this room is under maintenance and under any circumstances, no one is supposed to pull the door close even the slightest because accidents can happen anytime!"

"Woman, I was here to check on some documents! How'd I know that the wind was going to lock me inside and that too with you of all the people in this world. I have no intention of setting a camp here with you, what the hell do you take me for, huh!?"

Tsukuyo knew he didn't mean any of it and the whole situation was only irritating her even more. "I know." she replied quietly. "Where's your phone though? Mine can't get any signal here."

"....uh...my battery's dead."

Wow. No lights, no signal, they were really going to spend the night here.

"You know what? Nevermind. Why did I bother asking you anyway?" she couldn't help the scowl appearing on her face.

Taking note of her frowing face, Ginpachi couldn't help but speak in an irked voice. "Hey. You don't make such a disgusted face."

And this reply only poured fuel in the fire.

"So what do you want me to do? Smile!?"

"No!" Now Ginpachi was standing up from his seat. "But how about you try to be a little polite!?"

"And how about you start talking responsibility for your actions!?"

"Hey!" Ginpachi yelled as he stomped towards her angrily. "Do you think I'm enjoying my stay here with you? Because let me make this very clear to you. I. AM. NOT!"

"Oh thank you so much for the clarification, Ginpachi-sensei" the way she mockingly called his name only made his blood boil "The feeling's MUTUAL!" she spat right on his face.

"The last thing I wanted was to get stuck inside a store room with an unfunny woman like YOU!"

"Like I was dying to spend a night with a bastard like you!"

Ginpachi could just glare furiously as he inched his face close to her. "This is why men don't come near a BITCH like you!"

"Yeah sure!" she too moved her face close. "Like there's a huge crowd of women out there waiting for your LAZY ASS!"

"I pity the men who're out wasting their time on a brute like you!"

"And I pity the woman who're drooling over you!- oh sorry, there's literally no one drooling over you!"

Smart. "Aww. Well I'm not the twenty-seven year old chain smoking virgin here!"

"Well at least I'm not spending all my salary on jump magazines and parfaits like a certain dumb perm-head here!"

"You do know too much nicotine can speed aging. Ah that's why I see all the wrinkles around your face."

"And you do know that too much sugar can cause erectile dysfunction."

This was getting too much. "You know what woman? How 'bout you shut that little mouth of yours!?"

They knew they should stop. "Well how about you shut up by sucking on that stupid strawberry lollipop of yours!?"

Their faces were close, too close, their noses almost touching but no one was willing to back off anymore. There might not be a lot of light inside but they could clearly see the fire in each other's eyes. It was not like these two didn't respect each other. It's just that sometimes, they just couldn't stand each other and that's why they were called the bickering couple of the school. However, this argument was no longer their simple banter.

It was now a matter of pride.

"Listen here." Ginpachi's voice was so low and chilling it could make a grown man piss his pants. "If you don't shut up, I'll make you."

Tsukuyo could just chortle mockingly as she didn't budge an inch from her place. "I bet you can't."

He had a sly grin on his face now. "I'm warning you, Tsukuyo."

Tsukuyo matched his expression. "Like your threats can scare m-"

But before she could finish, Ginpachi already captured her lips with his. Tsukuyo's eyes widened with shock as she felt him take her breath away in that one short kiss. But before she could even react and shove him off, he quickly pulled away with a cheeky and breathy laugh.

"HA! I warned you!"

Tsukuyo couldn't process what just happened but his smug laughter only angered her more. Before she could think what she was doing, she found herself returning the favor by pulling him by his white lab coat and kissing him feverishly on his lips. And this time, it was Ginpachi's eyes which widened into large saucers.

Tsukuyo quickly pulled back, leaving both of them brrathless again. "Don't you dare act so smug with me!"

Both of them just stood there for a second, their minds trying to process what happened. They were just arguing, right? Telling how much they didn't enjoy each others company inside a locked storeroom?

Then how did this happen?

Was it the frustration of getting stuck with each other? Or was it solely the insults? Was it the packed room and the heat which messed up with their brain? Or was it the fact that they wanted to prove something to each other?

But whatever it was, why did they choose to kiss each other?

And why the hell did it feel so good?

Before their minds could answer these questions, the two coworkers found themselves lashing on each other.

Tsukuyo had always been a calm and level-headed person but never had she find more thrill in anything than pulling Ginpachi by his collar while pushing his oval specs up his head and kiss him with all she had got. Ginpachi, on the other hand, never let his control slip by in front of any woman. But this woman he was kissing right now only made him lose control and devour her with every kiss he gave her. Not in a million years had these two thought that they would be making out in a locked storeroom and that too after a long argument where they constantly insulted each other. And yet, kissing each other only made them realize how much they wanted this.

"What're we doing?" Tsukuyo asked gaspingly between kisses as she found Ginpachi cradling her face in his palms. His touch was firm yet gentle and she felt like turning into a mush.

"Just shut up and kiss me woman." Ginpachi almost growled as he now pulled her closer by her waist and planted his lips on her again.

Tsukuyo have never had such an experience in her life- this was her first kiss. With the energy and passion Ginpachi kissed her, she could feel her legs go limp as she found her arms wrapping around his neck to get some support. She shouldn't have provoked him. But damnit would she be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying this. Matching his lips, Tsukuyo copied his movements with the same intensity as she found his tongue battling hers. The way he sucked and bit her lower lip and then lightly kissed it- her mind was going completely dizzy. She then went for his red tie, tugging it loose as she let her hands roam on his well-built physic. He was just too much for her and even though the kiss felt too rushed and sloppy, she didn't mind any of her inexperience.

As for Ginpachi, he didn't seem to mind any of her inexperience as he continued to lick and taste her mouth with no shame. His hands were everywhere, her waist, her ass and then sliding up to her full clothed breaths and shit! how could no man not want her. She was just so intoxicating he could just eat her up in one go. Her curves, her voice, her beautifully scared face, the way she squirmed in his arms as she clutched on his lab coat for support- everything she did, she was always perfect. The smell of nicotine along with her lavender perfume and her small breathless moans only overwhelmed his senses as he no longer cared where they might end up later.

Never had Ginpachi wanted a woman as much as he desired her.

Never had Tsukuyo thought she would feel such security in his arms.

Sensing her wobbly legs, Ginpachi picked her up by her ass in one go as Tsukuyo found her legs now wrapped around his waist while he pressed her against the nearest wall for more support. Without leaving his lips from her, he found his hands now playing with one of her clothed breasts as he heard another muffled moan from her.

But alas they finally broke for air.

In the dim light of the evening, the two could see the string of salive that connected their tongues as both of them huffed for air. The way they looked now- their completely messed up hair, wrinkled clothes, Ginpachi's loose tie and Tsukuyo's unbuttoned shirt- never had they thought they would engage in such a reckless and intimate act together.

And yet, the way they panted and looked at looked at each other, as a small smile suddenly appeared on their faces, this didn't feel wrong to the them at all.

But before they could continue with their little session, the sudden turning of the door knob made them both jolt in shock as Tsukuyo jumped off Ginpachi's lap. Both of them looked at the opening door in horror as they found someone moving the flashlight right on their faces.

"I knew you guys were-" Ah shit, it was Zenzou. And the two of them were completely disheveled. "...You guys continue." And he switched off the flashlight and was again locking the door.

"OII WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!" It was Ginpachi who called out as he rushed towards the door. "The hell are you doing? We've been locked here this entire time!"

"Yeah?" Zenzou gave the unkept man a skeptical look and then looked at Tsukuyo behind who quickly turned her red face in shame. "Looks like you guys were having a good time and I was the one who disturbed you."

Ginpachi could feel his face flush in embarrassment as he glared at his colleague. "THAT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!"

On this, Zenzou gave him a are-you-serious-man look and Ginpachi only felt his face grew hotter.

Tsukuyo could feel the tension around as she rearranged her clothes a little and walked towards the two men. "Hattori-sensei," she spoke up, "this...was not what we...we were really locked inside!" she finally got the out, her face turning red once again. "...but things just happened.."

Zenzou looked at Tsukuyo and then at Ginpachi as he felt a small grin escape his lips at their embarrassed faces. "Don't worry." he spoke in his nonchalant voice. "The whole school already knew that there was something going on between you two."

Ginpachi and Tsukuyo looked in surprise as a quick "eh!?" left their mouths simultaneously.

"Well whatever. It's already late. Good thing I came here to check." he turned around to leave as the other two quickly tidy up their appearances a little.

"By the way tempa! Good job." he gave a thumbs up to Ginpachi and then picked his pace, leaving the two behind.

Ginpachi and Tsukuyo turned to look at each other as they again felt the tension increasing between them. It wasn't always when these two make out and well, this was a first for them and yet, both of them seemed to have no problem with it. They might have never accepted it on their own but they sure did enjoy their company together. And a lot more than they could have guessed.

"Uh...." both spoke up simultaneously. And both of them chuckled at this. But again, silence followed.

"Hey." It was Ginpachi who spoke first. "I don't know what happened but..."

"..yeah?"

"...wanna get some lunch together someday?"

Hearing his earnest request, Tsukuyo felt her heart flutter. "Sure." she replied with a smile. "I hope you won't regret it though."

Ginpachi could only give her his honest answer. "Of course I won't."

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song, chapter two

As her friendship with the Princess continues to deepen, a road trip to the Earth Kingdom compels Asami to reflect on her place in the world / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one

Asami exchanged eager glances with Miki and Khiem. Silaq stood by the door with his arms crossed casually, but they were all invested. As soon as the rickety panel separating them from the magic chamber slid aside and Korra emerged out, Miki caught her arm.

Asami caught the other one. "So what did she say?"

"Hey! That's between me and Mistress Meng." Korra winked, while Asami rolled her eyes. "Your turn, quick. She was meant to close fifteen minutes ago but I gave her a little extra so she'd do everyone. At the behest of the princess and all."

Asami almost expected her to wink again as she pushed her through the door. "We'll get dinner and head for the inn afterwards," she heard her say to the others.

Everyone meant the three waiting after Asami, so Korra must have paid the old woman handsomely indeed, and Asami expected to be rushed through the process. Instead she found herself in a smoky little tearoom, at the pointed end of a gaze glittering with curiosity.

"And who are you when the Princess isn't around?"

Asami coughed, eyes smarting in the smoke. "A blacksmith at the palace. One of her companions."

"I see. Married yet?" Mistress Meng posed the question as discreetly as possible, after her eyes had surreptitiously scanned Asami for any telltale glints of yellow gold.

"No, madam. I only wish." Asami bit the inside of her cheek and humoured the woman. This region of the Earth Kingdom was mighty superstitious, and the lady was smart to make a decades-long vocation of it. If Asami could see straight through it... well, Mistress Meng needn't know she was impervious to her airs.

"Very well." Mistress Meng pulled up her voluminous sleeve. "Drink of this vial and place your palm out for me."

Asami swallowed the sweet concoction she was handed and closed her eyes to protect them, while Mistress Meng put a papery hand under hers. She settled comfortably on the cushions, wondering what her fortune would hold.

Already life had taken a turn for the wondrous. They had been on the road for the better part of a week now, though it felt longer. The wedding of the Earth Prince was in another ten days, and Makapu Village here was one of their nightly stops on the great east road that would bring them to Ba Sing Se. Korra had convinced her to come along with her small hand-picked party, rebuffing the Lotus Guard that King Tonraq had offered. In the end, all Asami had to do was rush the final week of her apprentices' training and visit the palace dressmaker in between to have a couple of fancy gowns made—although Korra whispered in her ear, distractingly enough, that the finery was only for Ba Sing Se and they would wander free the rest of the time. So they had, riding down through the great forests of the north, crossing the choppy sea by ship, and camping in the mountains of the northern Earth Kingdom.

"My wisdom for you, dear," Mistress Meng pronounced dramatically, snapping Asami out of her reverie, "is that seeking true love is like asking for the moon…"

Asami's first faintly irritable thought was, that's not a fortune. The second, later that evening, quieter, would be, tell me something new.

"But," Meng drew the word out in a long croak, closing the other hand over Asami's, "it cannot come down from heaven, if you do not find the courage to ask."

Asami made a mental note, because the others would want to hear something as extravagant as that.

-

Early the next morning, they were dallying on the benches in the yard, mulling over whether to take a detour to the lake as they prepared to depart.

"Too cold to swim," said Miki dismissively, chewing on some berries she had brought out from the breakfast table, "even for me. And that one will freeze to death."

She had been chosen by Korra as part of the entourage for being one of the more intrepid and easygoing members of the staff, and they were good friends besides. She tossed a few nuts to Asami, who pulled her hand out from beneath her shawl just in time to catch them.

"You with the reflexes," Miki whistled, satisfied.

On the bench across from Asami, Silaq, bodyguard to the Princess (that was his official capacity), clasped his broad hands together over the map he had laid out. "Well, Mistress Meng did say I need to take some risks today." He winked at Asami, who scrunched her nose teasingly. He was a large and genial man, and had been kind to her since he was first tasked with helping haul her iron to the smithy from the ships that visited Agna Q'ela from the quarries.

"Wait, didn't she say that to everyone?" Korra piped loudly, directing her attention to the table and away from the innkeeper's son on her hip.

"She said that to everyone," Khiem said simultaneously. He had just finished saddling up their packs, and he stood tickling the reinmule's belly for a moment. Khiem took care of the Princess's dogs at home, and the pack animals on the road.

"Anyway, lake," Korra said with finality, and then softened it with a, "We're not in a rush, are we?"

It was settled. It wasn't that Korra was used to having the last word so much as everyone was generally in accord with her decision. Asami pulled the thick shawl around her, enjoying the crisp air. She had missed this—the kind of morning chill that made you shiver in relish rather than fright.

Korra had turned back to the innkeeper's son, who was being introduced to her mare. The child and the white-coated elk horse regarded one another with mutual caution. Asami sympathised with his wariness. It had taken her a while to warm up to the elk horses, who turned restless with cabin fever aboard the ship soon after Asami had first met them. But since then she had taken to the mount Korra and Khiem brought for her, a sable stallion who liked when Asami rested her face in the scoops of his ostentatious antlers.

"A show-off, like you," Korra said later, as they rode abreast, the lake behind them. "That's why I chose him."

Asami scoffed and laughed, not quite dismissively. She tugged the towel from her hair so that the midday sun could dry it. Asami had taken an inadvisable, yet irresistible, dip in the lake; her scream upon contact with the frigid waters had echoed through the forest bounding them, scattering the birds. Korra and Silaq, the resident waterbenders, had dove in without hesitation. It took a little extra effort to warm the waters as they swam, but polar people did it by instinct. Miki the non-bender had fought the cold valiantly, while Khiem abstained, laughing them off from the bank.

"I'm only moved by the spirit of adventure," Asami said, tossing her wet hair to her back.

The others rode a way ahead of them on the current path, a wide trail shrouded on either side by trees twice as tall as any at the north pole, strewn with their needles. The smell of spring came strong from the woods. Summer crept close on their tails.

"I wonder how they're doing back at the shop," Asami mused.

"You're not worried, are you?" Korra said, and before Asami could answer she corrected herself. "No, you're not. You've been having way too much fun this week."

Asami stared at her with a soundless laugh.

"And to think I had to drag you!"

"You didn't drag me! It's just that I was worried. But I didn't realise how much of a break I needed until we left." Over the week, Asami had provided some minor wheelwrighting services to those they met on the road, but for the most part she was blissfully free of strenuous work. Breathing in the clear air beyond the royal forge, she was sensible to sights and sensations she had largely been shut off from for a year, her escapades with Korra notwithstanding.

"Did you always know you wanted to be a blacksmith? I mean, did you choose such a gruelling trade?" Korra said.

"Oh," Asami said, staggering on the question while she caught up to Korra's thinking. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I ever thought about it—maybe I should have, huh? It's just what I was always supposed to do, growing up with my father."

"I know what that's like…" Korra sucked air through her teeth. Then she cocked her head. "For what it's worth, I'm sure there's a lot you'd be great at, if you ever wanted to switch things up."

Asami gave her a humble little mock curtsey, as far as possible on horseback. "And you? Have you wondered who you might be if you weren't the Princess of the North?" That was the title that always went before their company in these parts.

"Ah, not really." Korra sounded recalcitrant, like she didn't want to entertain the trail of thought for fear it might leave her wistful.

It wasn't a mood Asami wanted to encourage. "Well, then let me. First of all, it's quite easy to imagine the improvement on your personality we'd have if you weren't highborn—"

Korra wasn't hard to rile. "You're awful!"

Distraction achieved, Asami backed down. "And luckily, you really aren't," she countered without a beat, smiling her deference. She felt her own eyes soften when Korra returned the smile, disarmed and placated. Then Asami was humbled in sincerity, at the instant enhancement she had made on Korra's mood.

"You'd make a good princess," Korra said. "Better than me."

"No," Asami returned, "that's not true."

Though she meant it, she sounded less convincing to her own ears this time, because she was willing the bittersweetness out of her voice. "Your people love you," she added. "They don't see the slow parts. They see a warrior, passionate and big-hearted. And I know their trust means the world to you, even if you get impatient sometimes."

Some of the levity had dissipated, the air with all its scents was heavy now, and Asami wondered if she had overstepped. "Me," she continued, "I can't talk to someone on the street like I've known them my whole life."

After a long second, Korra said, "You could do the three hour round tables." It wasn't a counter to Asami's statement but a submission; and in responding so, Korra was gently accepting her kindnesses as well.

Asami concurred with a sigh. They would make a good team, then. They did .

The path was widening out now, but so were the trees, prickly branches curving into their way. A pleasant breeze rustled in them, softening the hard sunlight into an ideal haze. They both closed their eyes against it for a while.

"Well," Korra said, snapping off some needles from the branches pushing against her, "enjoy this while it lasts, because we'll probably have to sneak out at night if we want any freedom in Ba Sing Se."

"Uh-huh." Asami eyed her, brow arched. "Could it be that that's why we're taking the long route?"

Korra's eyes crinkled. "It's not a secret, Asami."

"Shh."

Korra threw her clump of twigs and needles at her, and they both laughed.

"You're kind of dreading it, aren't you?" Asami said. "Why… You'll be a great envoy for the tribes regardless of whatever the Earth elite think of us. And the King can't be too concerned if he let the council delegate to you... I mean, how hard can it be to attend a wedding?"

"You know, my mother's hoping it's going to provoke something in me."

"The mission?" Asami shielded her eyes as she gazed ahead to see where the others were. Accustomed to trips with Korra alone, she had forgotten to keep them in account.

"The wedding."

Asami turned back to Korra. "Is that right?" She pouted sympathetically. "She says that all the time. She's hoping everyone you meet with will magically infuse you with dreams of courtship."

"Well, this time, it's my dad, too."

"Oh… "

Korra gave her an exasperated look; Asami laughed, shaking her head.

"I mean, it's a funny thing to tell you when you're literally about to run away."

"That's what I thought! But I guess at least it means he thinks my sense of diplomatic responsibility has improved."

Asami got the impression that it wasn't that much of a bright side to Korra, and it coloured the air strangely again, but then she was startled into distraction. A butterfly had alighted on her nose, appearing from nowhere. It had been a long time indeed since she had seen one. Korra turned sharply at her gasp of delight. Gently, Asami coaxed it to crawl onto her hand, which she held out to Korra.

"These were my favourite! I used to plant flowers just to attract them."

"I see. So was that hard for you? Not being attractive enough for them all on your own?"

It took Asami a moment to understand her meaning, and then she sniggered. The butterfly wove around Korra and her stallion before flying off, and once they had watched it go, she said, "Hey, why are you in such a mood today?" She waited for Korra to return her pointed glance. "Tired of me already?"

Korra shook her head, sweeping her hand through the stallion's fur. "What? I adore you."

They did not look at each other then. Asami's knuckles tightened on the reins while the thrill of the words rose and abated. It was just a second in their familiar repartee, a long and blistering second. Korra fiddled with the bridle on her mount.

"Alright, well, since you're feeling so belligerent, why don't you race me?" Asami shifted on her mount. "We should catch up to the others."

It was for the best, because the farther they traveled from the Water Kingdoms, the keener the sense of possibility became, and the softer and more yielding the boundaries Asami knew, which meant all the more that she couldn't risk prodding them. And since the excitement she felt was for the fresh and familiar landscapes, not just from them, Asami directed her mind to that. Korra's spirits had been high and easy, too, from the advent of their journey—until today, it seemed. It occurred to Asami that Korra had never actually mentioned what Mistress Meng had divined for her.

-

In the town of Tenduk, it had been arranged for Princess Korra to open a new museum. Asami knew that cutting ribbons wasn't one of Korra's favourite activities, as it usually preceded a lot of sitting through—or worse, making—formal speeches. But the palace had arranged it upon request by the town, after the mayor learnt that they would likely be passing through that part of the kingdom when the museum was scheduled to open.

The night before, they arrived at the town's finest guesthouse. It was jam-packed, owing to the impending ceremony, but they offered Korra the final single room. Miki, however, was nursing the final strains of a back injury from a snowshoeing accident in the winter, and Korra insisted she take it with its softer bed. It left her to accompany Asami in the shared room. When they sat on the plentiful cushions over a nightcap of strong tea, they agreed it recalled Korra's apartments at home. Except the night outside was darker than it ever got with snow and ice around, and beyond was a foreign land that held them to no account, far from any castle, the room they lodged in belonging to neither of them. That made it different in a way they couldn't quite discuss aloud.

Once Korra was ready for bed, Asami shut the window, where she had been listening to the cicadas chirp in the moonless night. Korra turned out the smelly lamp. It was cool inside now, and the dark almost too eerie to sleep in. From the other side of the bed, she heard Korra sigh.

"Excited for tomorrow?"

"Sure. Asami?"

She was about to say princess, into the dark and thrumming night, but the circumstances might have carried it to an unfamiliar place, so she bit her tongue. "Hm?"

"Would you stay here, if you could?"

Here? Asami thought, before it dawned.

There was a beat before Korra spoke again. "In the Earth Kingdom. You miss it, don't you?"

"It's been a long time since I lived here. It was a long time before the war, even."

But it was a notion Asami hadn't realised she was nurturing, until Korra put it to words. It was true that the north was not the only place she could have made her post-war life—she'd simply taken the first chance that befell her to escape her father's legacy. In any case, the future certainly held other options, if the future looked the way she thought it might.

Korra didn't push, though Asami waited to see if she would ask again. Instead all there was was the dim whir of the cicadas, and the space on the bed between them.

"Maybe one day," Asami said finally. "Who can say?"

"Of course," Korra replied softly. The way she said it made Asami wonder, and suppress the immediate urge she had to reach out for her.

Korra cleared her throat. "Are you sleepy? I'm not."

"No." Asami sprang on the word, overhasty.

"Let's walk in the garden." Korra was out of bed no sooner than Asami had heard her words. "It looked so nice, and we probably won't have time tomorrow."

After a breakfast that included the fried cicadas Korra had begun to inquire about not five minutes into their stroll, they were led to the museum. Streamers hung from the building with the banners of all four kingdoms on them—it was the first public collection to open that brought cultural displays from across the world, a gesture of harmony after the war. After Korra cut the ribbon on the flagstones in front of a politely buzzing crowd, Asami and the others hung behind while she led the first patrons that had queued up inside. The impromptu tour that ensued, they later heard, had not been a part of the plan, but it proved a hit with the audience, who hadn't expected to hear the Northern Princess regale them firsthand.

"It must have been nice to put your royal history education to use for the first time ever," Miki commented, while they sat together picnicking afterwards. Korra spluttered her agreement, laying back on the mats they had loaned from the guesthouse.

"I just did the Water wing," she said, "so, um, the other hundred books could have been more useful."

"You can put some more of it to the test for the Earth Queen," Khiem said dourly, "impress her a little."

Korra struggled up and reached to steal some flatbread from his plate. "You want to feed me to the wolves!"

Asami giggled and followed suit, tearing some bread. Korra had done well, made the event her own. She was skilful now at knowing when to put her touch on things, how the line should be toed; a sense that served a figure such as herself well. Her mood, in turn, was vibrant today. Asami took the effort to gaze up at the sunset, away from Korra reclining in its glow.

Silaq was cutting persimmons from the trees around them, with permission from the warden that had scouted this spot outside the town for them. Some of the surrounding trees were blooming, while others were fat with fruit.

"Shake them!" Asami called. "You just have to shake them, and they'll fall."

Some of the fruit hit their heads on the way down. Asami took one of the blossoms in her lap and put it in Korra's hair as a token of congratulation, and Korra caught her hand for a moment as it left, beaming. As Korra stood to join Silaq in gathering the fruit, Asami thought that perhaps their moods had switched today. Korra's words last night had imparted an itch in the back of her mind. She bit into a persimmon and the silky cinnamon taste only intensified the nostalgic pang.

She turned to Khiem, who was a rare earthbender who had been born at the North Pole. "Khiem, how did you end up in Agna Q'ela? Did I ever ask?" She offered him the fruit.

"Same as you, I suppose," he laughed.

What did that mean? At Asami's creasing brow, he took a bite from the persimmon and continued.

"My father moved there from Yousheng prefecture to breed elk horses. The wild elk horses in the north… They're not suitable as mounts. When the King wanted elk horses for riding, my father was hired to take animals from the continent to breed with them so they could be domesticated, and to teach the royal stables how to keep them."

"Wow," Asami said. "I see—"

"Like your foundry."

"Yes, I got it," she laughed. "So he never came back?"

Khiem shook his head. "He fell in love with a northern girl." He handed the persimmon back; it was Asami's turn. "Are you planning to return? I hear your apprentices are shaping up."

"I haven't thought about it," Asami admitted. "But I think that thought will be due soon."

"Well, it's not an easy place to settle unless you grew up there. I doubt you have everything you want in the Water Kingdoms…"

No, indeed.

It was midday when they arrived in Ba Sing Se, sweaty and hungry. At the east gates of the Lower Ring, they were met by a representative of the Earth Queen, and another from the Water consulate here in the city, who took them up into the palace and housed them like all the other guests that had been filtering in from all four kingdoms. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight they would soiree with the other guests, but they took their lunch with the Water consul in the Upper Ring.

The consul received them eagerly, and served them fresh seasonal fare, introducing the latest goings-on in the city.

"All the festivities down there are beautiful," Korra enthused. The party was already in full swing in Ba Sing Se; they only had one prince, after all.

"Wait until you see the fire show tonight," the consul said. "There's more than just gold in the Earth Queen's coffers. Gunpowder! They have the finest technicians working on it. That will be something to behold for us northerners."

Korra's face lit up at the mention of fireworks. Asami was ready to return her grin when she sought her gaze, as she passed her the bowl of sauteed greens. She smiled behind her cup as Korra told the consul all about her pyrotechnics.

"Your Highness," he said, when they sat in the veranda office and rested afterwards, "there is the matter of the wedding gift, and venue, and the list of attendees for the ball tonight with the Queen and the Prince… There are a number you should definitely meet with, the others I will leave to your discretion. The wedding itself will be at the Summer Palace in the morning... doubtless the Earth royals will be preoccupied, so make your acquaintances tonight and then enjoy the day, I say..."

While the consul engaged Korra on these matters, Asami turned to Silaq. "Will we all go tonight?"

"Yes, I think so. It's a party, not a meeting. Remember your titles, though."

"Titles? How will I know—"

He patted her shoulder. "For Korra, I mean. In the palace, in company, it will be your highness —or my lady, or miss if you're feeling brave… And we'll be her household, since we're all in the employ of the palace."

"That's kind of fun," Asami said, and they shared a quiet laugh.

Their rooms at the Royal Palace were lavish. Asami and Miki hurried through the halls once they were clear of any staff, admiring the thick tapestries and the ornaments of silver, jade, and cinnabar. Each object and surface seemed to heave with ancient grandeur. They slipped into their second finest dresses, the Water folk in shades of stunning and patriotic blue. Asami kept her hair down. She had been taking every chance to, since it was an impossibility when she was at work. The gathering commenced in a series of massive drawing rooms, the largest boasting a high, golden vault carved with star maps and scenes from legend. Asami could have spent all evening gazing up. While Korra met with various nobles, she and the others clung close to one another, drinking careful amounts and milling with the looser guests. After a while, they fell into a game of hunting the aristocrats, pointing and guessing discreetly from the seating map who each of the fanciest guests were. When it was time, however, they all had to be introduced to the man whose wedding they had come for.

"Princess Korra! You , my lady, look ravishing ."

Korra and Prince Wu bowed to one other; a shallower and stiffer movement than the one Asami was used to seeing in Agna Q'ela. He had removed the tasselled crown he first entered in, leaving his mantle of green silks to shine, which he wore over a matching tunic lined with gold brocade. If not for the top-notch tailoring, they would have swallowed him.

Korra held her hand out for him to kiss, and then when she kissed his cheek as customary, a look of daze befell the Prince that made Miki clinch Asami's arm and snort. In fact, Prince Wu kissed the hands of all the ladies once Korra had named them to step forward and bow—decorum be damned—and he even offered Silaq a rather shy pat on his solid arm. Korra's eyes were narrowed, lips pressed tight, caught between irritation and laughter. Korra didn't like the Earth Prince. Asami didn't think she would either, but he was certainly a character.

The prince's betrothed, on the other hand, while he did not turn heads, left a more curious impression. He was modestly but finely dressed—the seemingly plain cut shirt clearly made from the finest weave upon a second glance—but he spoke little and did not seem to capture any of the guests for long. Naturally, he was the first topic of conversation when they sat for a bite. Korra's party shared their table with a couple chatty ladies, daughters from some southern freehold, who seemed to know all there was to know.

"That man is a commoner," one of them hiccupped over her sweetmeats. "Nothing but a beautiful, common commoner."

Korra's head rose instantly and she set her chopsticks down halfway to her mouth. "Oh, really?"

"Rumour has it," her sister to her left leaned in with a conspiratorial tone, "he was born in the slums in the Lower Ring and abandoned by his hussy mother. He would have died if one of the maidservants here didn't rescue him and raise him as her own."

The final southern woman, clearly the elder, cast them both reproving looks, as if she was disappointed that they would relay this gossip before the Princess of the North..

"One of the staff I was chatting to in our foyer said he used to be the Prince's bodyguard," Miki said. "Far to go, huh?"

"Or close, I guess," Khiem said, next to Asami, elbowing Silaq suggestively. Korra scoffed at him.

"I wonder what the Earth Queen thought of that," she said.

The older woman answered cautiously. "I'd wager the Prince just pitched a fit until she relented. Love him or hate him, not having his way is a foreign concept to His Highness."

The youngest girl was bored of this now. She turned to Asami, who had noticed her hawkish gaze on her once or twice. "Are you from the Fire Empire, Miss? You have a look."

"I am," Asami said. "Though I was born here in the Earth Kingdom. But I'm a blacksmith in the north now."

"A blacksmith." The girl repeated. She looked ahead, and her chin turned up a fraction as she sipped. "My sifu defeated the master arrowsmith for the Yuyan Archers during the war, and he says Fire Empire smiths are deadly warmongers."

Asami's heart sank in a flare of regret. From the corner of each eye, she saw the girl's sister shooting her a warning glance, and Korra clenching her jaw. Korra, of course, was not above invoking her station to put an enemy in their place.

"It's alright," Asami said quickly. "He's correct, unfortunately. But I haven't been with them a long time. I'm making amends."

Korra grazed her arm under the table. She already felt guarded here and she knew that Asami felt doubly conspicuous in these grand halls. At least the young lady had the good sense to look contrite.

"You look like... a goddess of the forge," Korra said, her cheek in her palm, leaning back to assess the gown.

Asami snorted, her sharp stance before the mirror failing. They had risen early and were mostly ready by the time the sun was fully up. It would take a half hour by rickshaw to reach the Summer Palace, and they would need to get there long before the prince in his palanquin.

"Nooo, don't go all red. See, it's gone now."

"Well, it's warm in the forge," she retorted. "Are the others ready?"

"Almost. Khiem's shining his shoes." Korra rose up onto her elbow reluctantly, yawning. She turned to the little box of jewelry she had brought, which lay open on the bed. "Hey, come here. Do you want to wear some of this?" She held up an elaborate necklace of pearl and pink ruby. I think this matches you better… And you know, they like seeing this stuff, at least the Earth Queen does."

"Right, the heavier the gold, the more highly she'll think of you," Asami said, bungling a mantra someone at the party last night had mentioned. She smoothed her dress one last time, glancing at Korra. Korra was arrayed in deep and regal teals, stretching the dress code a little only as a comely and commanding young princess could. The code for the wedding was simple: green, the colour of the Earth Kingdom, the colour of spring. Asami's own jade gown was embellished with pink spring blossoms. It was oddly exhilarating for them to be in summer garb, and Asami, for her part, couldn't recall the last time her arms had seen the sun.

She knelt on the bed and examined the jewels in Korra's hand. Asami's own gold had been paid in reparations, along with most of the other assets her family had held, after the war. All she kept were a few pieces that had belonged to her mother. Asami cleared her throat.

"Is it alright for me to wear this?"

Korra nodded mildly no sooner than she'd asked. "Of course. It's mine. Turn around."

She climbed to her knees behind Asami and unclasped the necklace, pausing first to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Asami's skin pebbled before the cold metal touched it, and she made her exhale soft. Though she said nothing, Korra must have noticed because she placed a hand over Asami's shoulder while the other straightened the chain at the back of her neck.

"You wear it really well." Korra placed her other hand on her too now, almost down at her own hand. "You look beautiful."

Asami didn't dare look up into the mirror; instead she felt the cove of Korra's shoulders, tucked around her own, close. When she had rescued her voice, she managed, "Thank you." She knew what she had to say next— which one are you going to wear? —but it was impossible not to defer it another second, two seconds—

There was a pointed cough at the doorway. Korra's hands dropped; Asami turned and sat on the bed, retracting to one corner.

It was one of the palace staff; wearing the doormen's colours, albeit in what looked like a special silk for the occasion. She gazed in the middle distance and rattled off, flustered. "Your Highness and our esteemed guests are expected in the reception rooms in twenty minutes for departure." Before they knew it, she had bowed vaguely and scampered.

Miki materialised where had been. "Oh, good. We're almost done, no?"

"Yes," Korra said, searching for Asami's eye, and Asami nodded blankly.

"I'll—go put on my shoes then."

Korra put on a necklace and a glimmering silver coronet. Asami picked up the shawl that matched her dress. They were finished in minutes, ready to head for the foyer. Asami shut the door of her suite firmly behind her as they left.

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I’m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.