#but for some reason watching clue alone seems...depressing?

[spacetownhigh]

is this the house from clue? 

by marcusnsoriano

[mochinomnoms]

Thinking about the Tweels parents reacted to them bringing home a partner, think of how excited mama Ashengrotto will be when Azul brings home his mate. After seeing Azul alone, depressed, and self-loathing for so many years, seeing him have the confidence to bring home his mate. If he is in his Merform she is even more thrilled. When she sees them comfort and hug him and allows Azul to cling to them she may faint. If/when they get married, you know she is throwing the biggest wedding reception in her restaurant. Yuu’s dress or tux, completely covered no matter the cost, all food, covered. She is just happy that her son found someone and Mr. Ashengrotto has to hold her back and keep her from squeezing Yuu to tight out of joy. She would also drop hints that she would be a great grandma and show you how cute Azul was in all his baby pictures.

Azul would probably die of embarrassment when his mom shows baby pictures and when they are finally alone (thanks to Azul’s Stepdad reminding her she has a Business to take care of) he finally relents:

“I’m sorry, she is just excited to meet you,” Azul has yuu curled in his many arms inside his octopot.

“Is she the reason you waited so long to introduce me to your parents?”

“Yes… also she has three books full of photos hidden in the house I can’t find and my step-father won’t tell me where they are. They just appear when guest come over and disappear when I try to burn them later.”

“Well, we are meeting your Grandma tomorrow so things should be better there!”

Azul groaned.

“More picture books?”

“Six books. I have no clue how she got half of those photos, I think she hired the tweels behind my back!”

She's so happy upon learning about Azul's partner. Ms Iris Ashengrotto is a sweet woman whose restaurant started from the bottom to become a renounced, exclusive dining experience that only the most wealthy, prim and proper folks under the sea could have the privilege of eating. It's why the Ashengrottos and the Leech family have worked together for so long, it makes a fine establishment for their… “business” deals. She's what we would equate to Gordon Ramsay, really: no-nonsense, with strict and high expectations in her kitchen. Similarly, she is oh so sweet with children, her own especially.

So it was a pain to watch Azul grow up so lonely, though she could never get him to tell her why. Iris assumed that it was due to bullying, most merfolk are not kind to cecaelias, but she couldn't go off and scare random children into not interacting with her son. Nor could she talk to their parents without knowing for sure if that was the case, or if her son was just naturally shy. It didn't help her worries when her son got skinner and skinner, thinking she didn't notice him look at his body in the mirror as he poked and prodded at what little fat remained on him.

She took comfort when the Leech parents sent their twins off to keep Azul company, though he didn't seem to warm up to them for quite some time. Even when he went to NRC with the twins, opening his own establishment, Iris was still concerned about him making friends. It's why she was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her son during his second year about his partner. He's shyly gushing about you to him, a magicless human that slithered their way into his locked up heart. With the way he describes you, like you hung the moon and starts, she's already planning a wedding in her head.

It takes some nudging after that to get him to bring you for a visit, but he eventually did over the summer break. Oh, she was delighted to see his limbs unconsciously curl around you, holding you close as you curled into him yourself. You were so cute! A sweetheart! A delight! A perfect child-in-law! Azul, please forgive her if she starts sobbing, but how else is a mother supposed to react when she sees her child gaze at someone with so much love in their heart?

The first day she's monopolized your time, feeding you and Azul all sorts of food and snacks, offhandedly mentioning that the two of you would have to fatten up a bit to give her health grandchildren. She had to withhold a laugh at Azul's mortified expression. Iris has several albums of baby and childhood pictures, eager to coo over how cute and chubby Azul was as a baby. Her son is sulking at the other end of the couch, but he still has a tentacle curled around your ankle, never leaving you for long.

It's when she's hiding away her album (one of three, Azul's destroyed many be she always has spares), that she overhears your conversation. Iris had stopped by his bedroom to let you two know that she needed to return to the restaurant, but instead quietly delighted at the sight of you two in his octopot. A cecaelia's octopot, hiding place, is a very private and intimate place. So seeing you, cradled in Azul's lap, as his many arms hold you close to him, makes her heart swell.

She decides to leave you two alone, taking one last peek as you giggle at a pouting Azul, before sharing a soft kiss. Iris is smiling at the sight, sighing as she can finally relax, knowing her son is going to be taken care of.

[lord-squiggletits]

TF ask meme:

19. A character you love that no one else seems to

21. A pairing you love that no one else seems to

37. Least favorite TF universe(s)

38. How did you get into transformers

19. A character you love that no one else seems to

IDW Optimus hands down, although the longer I spend in the fandom the more people I find who understand and love him as he deserves, so the feeling isn't as lonely and annoying as it used to be. :)

Mmmm but who's a different character I love that no one else seems to? Maybe Pyra Magna (IDW1) because non-MTMTE characters in general don't get a lot of recognition, and I think her CONCEPT was really interesting plus she's hands-down the sexiest female TF of all time.

I think Impactor would qualify? It's not that he's widely and unjustly hated (like IDW OP) or ignored (like IDW Pyra Magna), but I don't see a lot of posts that are focused on Impactor or anyone who has a deep attachment to him? He shows up a lot in Wreckers-related fanart but mostly in action things, not a whole lot of character meta. I'm not insane over Impactor like I am with others, but I'm definitely emotionally attached to him and don't see hardly anyone else who feels Emotions (TM) over him.

21. A pairing you love that no one else seems to

Not sure I have an answer for this, because although I do have my fair share of rarepairs, I've managed to find niches for most all of them (or am not invested enough in them to be sad about how rare they are).

37. Least favorite TF universe(s)

Can't really say I've consumed the most TF universes compared to other people, and the main reasons I have "least favorites" are mostly due to the fandom than anything else.

I think my least favorite might be TFA purely because of how trash some of the takes on Optimus are (uwu sad baby twink who's so depressed and everyone abuses him and he's so scared and full of anxiety and needs a big strong bot to show him how the Autobots are evil and he deserves love!!111!!!!!), but also because.... Well, the show itself was really good, but a lot of the "deep and dark" lore is pretty much entirely contained in side material and includes some stuff that you would literally not have a clue about just from watching TFA. And due to some past fandoms I was in, my #1 media pet peeve is that I HATE when the shows make you buy supplementary material that completely retcons/recontextualizes the story instead of just putting that new story information IN THE ACTUAL STORY!!!

So yeah, TFA to me is a good show, but as far as how "deep" it is I think it's severely overrated and a lot of the common fanon takes about it are really annoying anyways.

38. How did you get into transformers

Reading Victory Condition by astolat because some friends of mine from my job at the time linked it in the group chat. I was bored and alone in my room one night and decided to click on the link they put in chat (they aren't TF fans, it was just from some podcast thing) and read it.

[haileyywrites]

-> You never imagined yourself married to one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, but your family simply couldn't refuse the high honor when the Regrator himself came knocking on their door asking for your hand. His company left you beyond lonely, but thankfully one of his colleagues is bold enough to entertain you...

-> Childe x fem-reader! (husband!Panthalone x reader)

-> Forced marriage! Angst - this is pretty depressing! This might not be lore accurate and some characters might be ooc - this fic is just for fun and for your reading pleasure!

You had been prepared from a young age to be married off to a man of your parents choosing. It was a terrible reality, but you had grown to accept it long ago and simply lived your days of freedom to their fullest until that day. Never would anyone have foreseen that your fated husband would be one of the Tsaritsa's elite lieutenant's - the Regrator, 9th of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

You had little clues as to how he even knew of your existance to the point of wishing to marry you, but as member of the Fatui he seemingly knew everything about everyone. It wasn't like he didn't also gain something from this union - your family had some assets and connections he would benefit from. It was likely largely due to that he chose you as his bride. He seemed to enjoy dressing you up and having you hang off of his arm, to him you were like a fine accessory no one else could or would dare compete with.

Due to his status you could have anything and everything you could ever wish for, but also due to this you would rarely be allowed outside of the icy palace walls - for your own safety, he would say... The Zapolyarny Palace was cold and dark, yet beautiful. There was no chatter to be heard in the eerie quietness of the long halways that seemed to stretch into eternity. The servants and members of the Fatui would occasionally hurry through the halls and make some sound, but otherwise it felt like a deserted castle long forgotten that you were trapped in all alone.

The Regrator or Panthalone, was as decent as a man like him could be. He treated you with respect, even if you were just a fancy edition to his collection of invaluables, you were a status or an ego booster for him... He rarely had time for you and even if he did he didn't much care for spending time with you beyond dinners that he insisted you eat together, unless he is out of the country. Sometimes he would require your presence, but he treated you more like an assistant than a wife.

You weren't able to even see your family outside of special events or unless permited by him. He was a busy man, constantly engrossed in his work and thus didn't have time to entertain your every request on a whim. You weren't entirely sure if he made excuses as to why he declined so often to be cruel or for some other reason you couldn't wrap your head around... Either way, you were effectively isolated in your beautiful yet lonely prison as you slowly became a shell of a person.

That was until one day that you met a certain man who would do his best to change that. A man who made your heart beat again when you thought it had withered away into dust.

You had woken up to see fresh snow falling from the sky to paint the landscape freshly white. You decided to go outside and watch it for a time, as there wasn't much else for you to do on a daily basis. You didn't inherit your husbands rank or duties - you were simply there... There wasn't a day you didn't feel completely out of place in the palace amongst Her Excellency's most loyal and elite followers. You respected deeply and recognized her as your god, but you had no place amongst the Fatui or beside your husband.

You arrived to the chilly outside, everything was covered with a fresh white coat of snow. The snow crunched under your steps as you made your way through the courtyard you had cone to know like the back of your hand. You could find your way through the entire palace inside and outside with your eyes and ears closed by now... Some part of you still found the familiar sight rather beautiful, despite it being nothing you hadn't seen before a thousand times.

Your attention was soon overtaken by the sound of weapons clashing and joyous laughter - something that had become completely foreign to you after your marriage and move to the palace. Without a thought you chased after the sound, with your curiosity getting the better of you. After turning the corner you arrived at the training grounds which were occupied by Fatui Agents, as per usual. But they weren't training this time, instead most stood around watching intensly at something...

You made your way around to see what had caught their attention like this and you saw a group of agents fighting a tall man with ginger hair. Despite their numbers and size they stood no chance against him, as he took them down with ease. He was fast and agile, yet hit them hard with blows that sent even the largest of them flying back! Just watching gave you a lild adrenaline rush and made you excited - a feeling you had all but forgotten!

After he was done with them he laid his striking blue eyes on you. He stared intensely at you, as if he was trying to figure you out somehow. He broke the eye contact to tell the men to keep training as he began his approach towards you... You simply stared back unwaveringly, yet crossed your arms as nervousness settled in along with the increasingly cold weather. The man stopped a few feet away from you and smiled.

“I don't suppose it would be too rude of me to ask you your name, my lady?” He asked with a friendly tone.

You smiled back politely and told him your name before responding, “Might I know who you are then?”

“Tartaglia, but I also go by Childe. Which ever works for you.” He gave you a close eyed smile.

“Hm, I hope I haven't disrupted you and your men. If I'm not too much of a bother, I would like to stay and observe for a while longer.”

“You haven't, you just caught my attention since I haven't seen a fine lady like you around here before.” He had been out of Snezhnaya for some time and hadn't caught up with everything yet.

“Then, please - continue.” You motioned towards the training grounds.

Hours had easily passed by without you noticing as you watched Tartaglia beat and train his men with your full attention. He was a formidable fighter and was able to use all kinds of weapons with ease, yet he had become sloppier while trying to show off to you with flashy attacks and stolen glances. Everytime he would win he turned towards you and gave you a proud look, it was rather endearing...

Soon your attention was brought to the sound of approaching footsteps and you were quite taken aback by the sight of your husband walking towards you. That signature smile of his resting on his lips, it was so fake that it felt insulting to look at it... You quickly straightened your posture and brushed off your clothes to appear more presentable. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever he had come all this way for.

You weren't the only one to notice him as Tartaglia had beginning to approach you two out of curiosity.

“Hello, my dear. It appears you have been distracted as you've forgotten all about our dinner.” His voice was calm but he was clearly annoyed by this.

“I'm deeply sorry, it won't happen again.” You lowered your head, your eyes glued to the ground beneath you.

“I shall hope not. Let's go.” He curtly replied.

“Regrator! I didn't realize you knew her.” Tartaglia mirrored your husbands fake smile.

“Ah, yes. It seems I haven't had the opportunity to introduce you two properly yet, though it seems you've met in some capacity already.” He eyed you both.

“Yes, but I only know her name.” Tartaglia said.

“Well then, let me introduce you to my new wife. Unfortunately you weren't here during our wedding, otherwise I would have introduced you sooner.” He pulled you closer to him.

Somehow everything he said spelled "she's mine" even though you had just met Tartaglia earlier today. It would be foolish to assume he was somehow jealous, as it was just possessiveness over owning you rather than him actually caring about you. People were allowed to admire what was his or comment on it, but to touch or to talk was crossing the line, apparently...

It did confuse you on why he came to collect you himself instead of sending a servant or another member of the Fatui. Every decision of his spinned your head while trying to wrap your head around, but perhaps it was a good sign you didn't understand his line of thinking...

“Oh, I see. Congratulations then.” His smile was anything but genuine - the polar opposite of his smiles before.

“Thank you. Regrettably we must be on our way now.” Panthalone took hold of your arm and began walking away before anyone had time to say anything else.

The dinner was eaten in mostly silence as your thoughts wandered back to Tartaglia and how he made you feel emotions of all kind, emotions you hadn't felt in a long time now. It wasn't like you had anything to talk about with your husband anyway... He wasn't interested in the pointless things you had done today - or any other day and you didn't wish to listen to him talk about hisrecent or investments and ideas.

There was no spark, no connection, no curiousity... Nothing. You felt absolutely nothing for each other and that would never change, yet you were boumd together for the rest of your miserable lives.

Your parents would have a stroke if they found out you were thinking of another man while laying next to your husband in bed. Your thoughts were not inappropriate, but it was still wrong. But you couldn't help yourself... Meeting Tartaglia had made you feel something again, you loved how colourful and expressive he was. While others might find it tiring or annoying - to you he was a breath of fresh air and you wanted to be by his side all the time.

You wanted to feel alive again, you wanted to laugh and smile genuinely again... You wanted to live a life worth living and he made it so. Perhaps if the circumstances were different you would feel differently about him or not care about him at all, but it didn't matter.

Anytime you didn't have to be by your husbands side you would be at his. You had reassured Tartaglia that if your presence was bothersome or he was simply busy that you wouldn't take it to heart if he turned you away. Still, he never did. He was an honest man - he would have told you to leave him alone politely but frankly if he truly didn't wish for your company. At times you would talk on and on for hours, other times you would watch him train and sometimes you would help him with his necessary paperwork. You were just glad to be in his presence and he felt the same...

You always made sure to be by your husbands side on time ever since the incident. Whenever your presence was required or requested you would be by his side on time and with a smile convincing enough to fool almost anyone. But people weren't fools or blind, as they still noticed your fondness towards one of his colleagues... While none dared to say anything or in anyway insinuate your supposed infidelity, but rumors flew and spread like wildfire inside the palace.

You weren't entirely sure what to make of Panthalone and his opinion on these rumors... You got the clear feeling that he wasn't happy about them, but he refused to bring it up and as long as he didn't - you continued to seek out the company of his fellow Harbinger. You were slightly terrified that one day he would ask you to stop seeing him, what would you do then? He was your husband, wheter you loved him or not.

Being with Tartaglia made you feel so incredibly happy as if it was right, but you knew how wrong it was to thread the line you two danced around. He was the opposite of your husband in every possible way, being with him was so incredibly draining... But with Tartaglia you somehow you felt as if soulmates truly existed and he was yours. That you were meant for each other - made for each other.

You were under no illusion of his nature and his deeds, yet you couldn't care less... He was the one you longed for, who your soul longed for. He was the one to bring a smile to your face, he was the one who caused you to cry while laughing as your stomach started hurting from it. How could you care about anything else but being by his side every second of the day?

Sadly, real life was not like your daydreams or fairytales you've read... Real life was that you were married to a man who would never let you go - no matter how unhappy you both were or would become. Owning you was simply too valuable for him to ever let you go and nothing would change that.

Even when you let yourself go and indulge your feelings, you couldn't escape reality... Your lips had barely touched for a second, you didn't want to pull away. You didn't want to let go of him or of this moment, but you knew what the consequences of being seen or found out could be. It wasn't right no matter how much it felt like it...

“What's wrong?” Tartaglia cupped your cheek tenderly.

“I'm sorry, I can't do this...” You responded with tears in your eyes.

“Is it because of him?” He asked in a rather sad tone.

You didn't respond and he knew the answer. You held your hand over his for a moment - enjoying the feeling of his warm skin against yours, before turning your body away from him. You couldn't face him or anyone else right now. The tears were so close to falling and you were so close to breaking...

“This is goodbye, Ajax. I'm sorry...” You whispered.

He didn't stop you despite his wishes to do so, every fiber of his being was screaming to not let you go - to not let you leave like this! But he did...

You were not his to chase after. However much he too believed that you belonged together, he would likely never even have met you if you weren't married to your husband. He held no loyalty to the Regrator, but you were his wife and thus belonged to him... If you chose to be loyal and go back to him, he had no right to ask you to stay or change your mind.

The universe had brought two people perfect for each other together, yet it wasn't meant to be.

A/N: I have no idea where this came from but here it is lol Like and or reblog if you want <3

[duskthevampqueen]

A Happier Valentines

So I completely forgot this fic existed until now, so I'm so sorry that its out of season/theme now, but this was a Valentines fic for Quest! I had planned to make them short headcanons for all the LIs, but ended up only having an idea for Quest so made it a full fic length!

I did end up sharing this with the Blooming Panic server before in PDF format, so it might be recognizable to those in there.

Please enjoy!

Gender Neutral Reader

Past

Quest hadn’t even realized that it was Valentines day until he saw one of his co-workers receive a giant bouquet of roses from her husband, making it a big display in front of everyone. Some people oh’d and ah’d at the romantic gesture, while others rolled their eyes and turned back to their computers to avoid the view. Quest personally watched a little bit of it, curious, before turning back to his cubicle as the display settled down a bit.

He hadn't been in a relationship for quite a while, his work keeping him busy, or if the work wasn't keeping him busy, it was the server. No one from either had caught his interest, and he wasn’t exactly going out and looking for someone.

He was quite grateful for the server, but as he logged in later that night and saw Salo talk about the date he had planned for him and his wife, Quest couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. He didn’t want to interrupt Salo’s happy moment, logging off and sitting back in his chair. He thought about the day resolved around couples.

He adored romance, poetry, and anything related, so it was quite surprising to the members of the server that he didn't have a partner to woo. Toaster said it was because Quest didn’t know how to say no to long hours at work. Xyx poked fun that it was because no woman wanted to be with a sap. Nightowl and the others agreed that Quest just hadn’t found the right person yet, especially considering how much work he seems to have.

He had always hoped it was because of Owl’s reasoning, but at other times, especially now where he was in his cubicle all alone with a poetry book kept in his drawer for low moments, he couldn’t help but think that Xyx and Toaster were right.

Along with the duo’s joking reasonings, he thought back to his record. He wouldn’t exactly blame anyone if they decided that his record was something too big to ignore “just for love”.

Luckily, he got a little ping on his computer, notifying him of incoming work. Quest discarded the depressing thoughts about his love life as he delved back into his work, spending the rest of his Valentine’s day on paperwork before heading back home to fall in his bed, alone.

Present

When Quest had told you on the 10th to be on the lookout for a package from him in the upcoming days, your curiosity was immediately piqued. You thought over what he could possibly be keeping a surprise for when the package arrived, your attempts to lovingly interrogate him about what he possibly haven't gotten you being unsuccessful.

He adored giving you little surprise packages like that, usually of a couple of his jackets or shirts for you to wear, or some items of your interests. But usually he didn’t give you a warning; you would just receive a package, see it was from his address, and wait til the two of you were on call together to open it for him to see. Quest always adored seeing his angel’s eyes light up with delight as they opened gifts from him, it made his world when he was so far away from them.

The warning is what made you suspicious that it was something big or expensive, possibly something you had to sign off on. You asked the others of the server if they knew anything, and while for some like Salo and Two who genuinely had no clue, for others like Toast and Xyx, it was blatantly obvious they were “hiding” that they knew something. One time Quest popped in on the two making extremely vague hints to you, making the two scatter with half-assed excuses. Quest was just grateful that the so-called hints were more confusing than directing.

After four days of “investigating”, you were just about to give up on figuring out what the hell your lover got you that would require a warning, when your doorbell rang. You glanced at the time, seeing it was just barely 9:30 AM. It seemed like a reasonable time for a package to be delivered, so you jumped out of your seat in delight. You'd finally find out what your boyfriend sent you.

You didnt bother looking through the peephole as you reached your front door, a big smile of excitement on your face as you opened your door, only for your expression to turn to pure awe and surprise.

There in front of you was Quest, dressed in casual clothes, holding a couple bouquets of flowers. He had a huge smile on his face when seeing you there in front of him, his darling angel, having to hold back from hugging you immediately. He instead offered you the bouquets, one of stunning red roses, one of all your favorite flowers arranged so their blooms made the shape of a heart.

“Happy Valentines Day, angel. I hope you didn’t expect this one.” He chuckled a bit, a small blush of bashfulness coming over the tops of his ears. That blush quickly became one of happiness as you suddenly lunged forward and wrapped your arms tight around him, making him laugh softly.

He was finally having a happy Valentines, with the most amazing person he could think of. With the person he loved with all his heart.

[pretend-writer]

Demolition Lovers (Hargreeves x sibling!reader)

Summary: Klaus and Y/N helps their brother, Luther find a perfect date.

Title Reference: Demolition Lovers x My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warning: swearing, mention of sex

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

It was a typical day at the Hargeeves mansion. Klaus and I hanging out as we lay across the couch next to each other, scrolling through our social media and sharing celebrity gossips that was trending that day.

Diego would then barge in, bothering us to get up and be productive but then end up eaves dropping and joining our conversation.

Then we'd have Vanya that'll feed us our daily snacks. She was like a mama bird; Hearing the rest of us complaining and bickering then feeds us the goodies to shut our mouth. It honestly worked every time and now I start to wonder if that was her trick all along.

After our snack was nap time, where Klaus and I would lay there for two to five hours, usually get up when the sun was down. Then we would plan our night, typically out for dinner or a night out if it was the weekend.

But our schedule, our precious paradise time was ruined by the one and only. Luther Hargreeves.

It wasn't supposed to be this way; Allison would go out to run errands, Ben worked all day like the responsible man that he was, and Five would just be Five, roaming town and doing God knows what. Luther would be home to research and dig through dad's old stuff.

Today however, wasn't the case.

He instead came in during mine and Klaus' precious nap time, groaning and yappin' about some girl on an app. Didn't know why he had to do this in the family room but there he was.

'Do you not see us sleeping here?' I complained as I lifted my head from the pillow, trying not to move a lot so that Klaus could stay asleep.

'Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to be loud.' He apologized as he stared at his phone, depressed and upset.

Klaus rolled his eyes. 'Well you are and you're still here.'

Luther froze in place, continuing to stare at the screen. Klaus and I looked at each other, nudging one another to see who was going to talk to him first.

The both of us got up, sitting down side to side as we looked at Luther and back at each other. Klaus seemed like he was unbothered, so I sighed and broke the silence. 'What's wrong buddy?'

'Nothing.' Luther frowned.

Squinting my eyes, I grabbed the pillow from the couch and threw it on Luther's head. 'You bitch! You woke us up from our nap and you're going to say "nothing" is bothering you?'

'Ow!' Luther rubbed his head. 'Okay, okay. Damn. It's this girl on tinder, she doesn't want to go on a date with me.'

'Well, what did you tell her? Did you say something stupid?'

Luther got up, 'See. This is why I didn't want to tell you guys becau-'

'Sorry, sorry.' I stood up and pulled Luther back onto the couch. 'Mind if I see the conversation?'

His face immediately turned red, 'Uhm. Do you have to?'

'If you want me to figure out why she's turning you down, yeah.'

Hesitantly, he pulled up the messages he had with the girl and then passed me the phone. Scrolling through the messages, I shook my head. 'Luther, she's DTF.'

'Yeah, I know that's why I don't understand why she turned me down. She brought it up first.'

Klaus blinked, 'What do you think DTF stands for?'

By the look on Luther's face, I knew he was confused. He looked over at the ceiling, thinking for a while before he replied to Klaus. 'Don't tell me I was wrong this whole time.'

'So what do you think it says?'

'Uhm... Date This Friday?'

Klaus awed, shaking his head as he left my side and took a seat next to him. He wrapped his arms around Luther, 'Buddy. No. That's not what it stands for. But that's cute of you.'

'Wait, huh? So this whole time me and her were on the wrong page? What did she mean then?'

'She wanted to fuck you.' I blurted, I felt bad that Luther was so confused. 'It stands for Down To Fuck.'

It was a dead giveaway that he had no clue what his whole conversation really meant, his whole face turned redder than ever. He buried his face into his hands. 'Oh no.'

'I didn't think you were talking to girls, honestly.' Klaus chuckled. 'You clearly got game, your noggin is just a little... outdated.'

'I got what? Game? No, I just deleted Candy Crush, it was too addicting.'

Klaus kept his laugh in, curling his lips as he slowly nodded back at his brother. 'Oh my gosh.'

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

It had been about two weeks, helping Luther get a dream girl that he deserved. Despite Luther being the annoying sibling, he had been there for me countless times and I wanted nothing but the best for him.

We've tried talking to the girls on the app, few weren't looking for anything serious, some trolling in the messages. After constant matching and messaging, Luther found someone he potentially saw a relationship with.

'Did you check your message from Claire yet?' Klaus asked.

'No. I'm kind of nervous, actually.' Luther laughed a little under his breath, shaking his legs as he gripped onto his phone.

Resting my hand on his shoulder, I reassured him. 'Don't be nervous, I'm sure she said yes to your date.'

Luther sighed, turning on his phone and scrolling through his messages. As his face lit up, he jumped off his seat. 'She said yes!'

Klaus got up and cheered, hugging Luther tightly. 'I knew it! So what time and where?'

'Ah- Uhm. Why... do you need to know?' Luther paused.

'Cause we're coming to watch.'

'No, no, no. I don't need you two spying on me. I'm already nervous as it is.'

'Yeah, Klaus let's just let him be. He's a big boy now.'

'But-'

'Let's give him the space he needs, Luther definitely needs his alone time with his girl.'

Klaus rolled his eyes, 'Okay. Have fun and tell me everything when you get home.'

A smile hasn't fade away since he saw the text; He was grinning widely than ever, never seen him this happy in my entire life. 'This is going to be so awesome!'

'Good luck buddy.' I smiled as I watch him do his little happy dance going up the stairs to get ready.

Klaus groaned, crossing his arms and pouting like a little child. 'Why can't we go spy on Luther?'

'But we are. I just wanted him to think we weren't.' I wanted nothing but the best for Luther, if it meant that he was going to have a perfect night with his perfect date, I was going to be protective of my brother.

'Perfect! I need to get my spy gear on.'

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

With the binocular in my hands, I looked into the restaurant Luther picked for the both of them. 'Oh my gosh, he looks so cute with his little bow tie.'

Luther was blushing, talking nervously with Claire. It seemed like it was going well, no awkward moment or embarrassing moment between them.

I looked over at Klaus, who was being too quiet next to me in the passenger's seat. He had a rather thick file in his hand. 'What are you reading?'

'Claire's life.' Klaus chuckled. 'She's smart as hell, really pretty. I'd say we did a pretty good job helping Luther.'

'How did you get a file on her life?'

Klaus smiled innocently, 'Ah. I followed Diego into his ex's job and got Ben to steal it for me.'

'You what?' I leaned my head back, staring at the car ceiling as I sighed. 'Klaus, Eudora is my friend. If she finds out that you stole someone's files from the police department, she'd hate me.'

'My bad, Y/N. If it makes you feel better, Ben rejected me a bunch of times. I made a deal with him that he could take over my body for three hours for the files.'

'Whatever.' Looking through the binoculars again, I asked him another question. 'So you didn't ask Diego to get it for you?'

Klaus shook his head. 'Nah, if I ever told him I knew he'd want to come with us to stalk Luther. I wanted some Klaus Y/N alone time.'

'Aw.' I said but immediately stopped. 'Are you saying this to make me forgive you?'

'Is it working?'

'Depends how the night goes.' After a sarcastic smile, I snatched the file off of his hand. 'Why did you want to steal this anyway?'

'You ask so many questions.'

'I know.'

It was rare for Klaus to do "the responsible thing", that was more of a me, Allison or Five's criteria. I couldn't think of a possible reason why he'd go out of his way to take a file to investigate on this girl.

'It's Luther, you know. I wanted to make sure he was going out with someone that won't screw him over again.'

'That's the nicest thing you've ever said.'

'Luther better appreciate this because I'm not going to jail for this shit.'

I smiled at my brother. 'Don't worry. I gotchu.'

A loud scream came from the entrance of the restaurant, Luther approaching us quickly as he eyed the both of us.

'Duck!' I yelled at Klaus as we tried to hide ourselves from his sight.

'Don't bother. I saw you guys from the restaurant!' Luther said as he knocked on the window. 'Why are you guys here? You told me you wouldn't come.'

'I know, I know.' I rolled the window down and squealed as I reached for his bow tie. 'I just couldn't resist! You look so adorable, brother.'

He grunted, 'Stop. Guys go home, you're going to ruin this date with the woman that I love.'

'Woah! Love!?' Klaus and I said in sync.

Luther covered his mouth. He mumbled into his hand. 'Pretend I didn't say that!'

'Pretend?' I laughed, 'Luther. I can't pretend, I'm sorry. That was sort of funny. A little little little bit cute but mostly funny as hell.'

Klaus reached over me to grab onto his hand. 'Dude, you're already whipped but that's okay. But Y/N's right. It's a bit funny not going to lie.'

'I'm whipped?' Luther cocked his head. 'I don't do that sort of foreplay during se-'

'Luther, that's not what it means!'

[alixdelcourt]

You're way too precious to me

Ft. Katsuki Bakugou, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari x female reader

Genre : angst, deep and dark angst (I had hard time writing this) and slight comfort in the end

WC and warnings : 2.7 k / Angst, dark mood, hurt feelings, depression, emotional burn out, light mention of self-harm, crying and feeling down. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or having mental troubles, I struggled writing this and felt hurt myself, so please be careful.

Note : I hope that I achieved your request okay, @d3nk1x, and that it's what you requested for. I discovered that I am not that comfortable with angst... I definitely prefer fluff or smut. This isn't for me... So maybe it's not well writen. Please let me know.

Dating katsuki Bakugou is quiet a big deal, and not always an easygoing relationship. All the anger, frustration and brutality he bottles inside of him prevents bakugou from being a perfect boyfriend. But, whatever ! Who needs perfection anyway ? When you felt in love with him, you were aware of all these matters. You love him just the way he is. After all, love is for the better and for the worse, so you always find your way forgiving his roughness and harsh attitude.

But, lately, you find yourself patching up your own feelings and emotions because of him. You have more and more trouble taking the blows, and some wounds of yours refuse to heal. So you slightly change, trying to give him hints of your unhappiness, of your insecurities. But in vain…

Today has been particularly tough, and you just feel… down. You need whatever comfort you can find, and you’re craving for your boyfriend affection. But today hasn’t been a good day for him as well. He lost all his training sessions to Kirishima and Deku, and he’s pissed off. So when you came up to him and asked for a few caring, he just… erupts. You were a sadness soused combustible, and his fury sparks caught fire on you so well. He poured all of his raging emotions on you, and the words he spat to you were like sharp knives cutting your skin and letting all of the pain seep deep into you.

… You just wanted some cuddles. Was it too much to ask ? Just a pinch of affection to sprinkle on your illness. An ounce of empathy. And here you are, buried under your blanket, fist clenched, closed eyes crying, and all your body shaking because of the your hurted feelings. His words keep streaming in your mind, destroying you a little more every time they start again.

“Stop clinging at me like you do ! Look at you, you seem so miserable right now… It really pisses me off.

“Please… Katsuki… I need you… I need your-”

“ F*ck off ! You’re always so whiny ! Such a crybaby ! Stop being so dependant and clingy ! I am not your baby-sitter !”

“But… But…”

“I said f*ck off! Get the hell away, and leave me alone ! I can’t stand crybabies like you !”

The message has been perfectly received. It’s printed in capital letters behind your eyelids.

You felt asleep, exhausted from crying, and when you wake up, you couldn’t tell how much time did you spent laying there. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t feel able to get out of your bed, so you just stay here, in the warm fluffy embrace. Whenever you feel some thought triggering your mind, you bite your flesh hard and the concentrate on the pain ‘til you forgot why you started doing this. After a few times, you couldn’t even think of a straight complete sentence.

When the blanket was roughly removed from over you, you didn’t even blink. With a quite long delay, you realize that you should feel the cold air, the disturbing noise and even his touch on your skin… But you’re like under anesthetic. Which makes Bakugou freaks out. He tries to make you react, slaps you, screams your name, while shouting for someone to help him. You’re conscious, but you can’t feel anything. You should probably answer him, but why would you do ? seeing him shouting at you, you think that he’s still mad at you… Why did he come for you then ? If he doesn’t want you anymore, why is he here ? You don’t understand what’s happening.

Maybe because you don’t realize that from his point of view, you seem… dead. Your body is cold and your eyes are empty. The other students called for Aizawa, and recovery Girl came to auscultate you as well. But you didn’t notice, lost in the fog inside your head.

And when you “woke up” from this choc state, you was kind of surprised by a caring boyfriend of yours, who hugs you tight and cuddles you all day long, apologizing and whispering to not ever do this to him again. And when you asked “do what ?”, he goes like “nevermind”, before holding you close. It’s Kirishima that told you what happened. You went through an emotional burn out for a few days, and Bakugou was literally freaking out and feeling guilty because of what he told you. He didn’t mean to hurt you like this, he was mad and didn’t think of the consequences of what he said. He promised he won’t act like this again. He felt like he lost you, and it was unbearable. You’re way too precious for him.

Your relationship with Eijirou Kirishima is based on routines. You both like the fact that you follow a settled pattern that time made up for you. Just small little things that remind you two of the love and affection you share. For example, you wait for him in the morning to go to your classes together, and he waits for you to tidy up your things after class before reaching the cafeteria. He kisses you for goodnight, and you play with his hair for him to fall asleep.

Loving him is easy and sweet. And even if you have arguments, because every healthy relationship goes through some arguments, both of you try to find a way or a solution to deal with it. And lately these times, you just feel so in love with him, you literally can’t help but kissing him all day, spinning around him like a light feather carried by the breath of love between you two.

It’s quiet late at night, and you were in his room. You always end up in his room after dinner for some cuddles and maybe watch a movie together. Then you two just do your own things until you’re getting sleepy and head to bed with the goodnight routine of yours. Like chilling, each one on his own but together. Doesn’t makes a lot of sense, but it works for you two, so you just don’t mind. Tonight, you two had to study for the next math exam that was coming. And it was difficult. Math gives you headache, and hopefully Eijirou is a patient tutor. He kept repeating for you until you got the point. You’re proud of you, and so is he, but you ended the study session a little bit delayed, and he was late to his online gaming sessions with Denki and Sero. He let you finish the last exercise on your own and connect quickly to catch up with the boys.

You read a book, but can’t concentrate with all the math in your head. You can hear your boyfriend gaming and he looks way too attractive to you with his hair flattened by his headphones, tongue sticking out because he’s focused on his game. You smile before reaching his lap. You comfortably sit on it and hug him to express your affection. This is a way better position for reading.

But you still can’t concentrate. Not with your body pressed against him, with you’re *ss on his crotch, with all the dirty thoughts running in your mind. You throw away your annoying book, and start kissing the redhead’s neck. He smells so good… A mix of his wooden scent gel shower and the bitter fresh scent of his aftershave. You get pretty excited, imagining this perfume ruined by his sweat while pounding you. Picturing all these thoughts and imagining Eijirou’s lips on your, you’re getting really needy, aren’t you ? You can’t help but move your hips and rub your lower part on his. Maybe this will get him hard and he’ll be just as needy as you. Maybe you could sleep over here tonight…

But no. Your moving just annoys him. He can’t focus properly on what he’s doing while you wriggle around and sigh on his skin. He can’t hear you moan, he can’t see the desire in your eyes, nor notice the excitation you’re in. He tries to push you off his lap, but you keep trying to get him out of his play. Game over appeared in bloody letters on his screen, and he removes his headphones. When you try to frame his cheeks in order to kiss him, he pushes you away.

“You’re really annoying, you know that ?”

“You say that only because you lost… Come here, let me comfort you”

“No. Not when you’re the reason why I lost. Anyway, I am not in the mood.”

He keeps avoiding your touches and attempts to lay him on bed.

“What is it, babe ? Why don’t you want me to touch you ?”

“I just don’t want to right now. Can’t you understand it ? Or do I need to keep repeating myself like for everything else ?”

This was like a cold shower. It cancelled every single drop of excitement you had. You clench your teeth.

“Okay. I get it.”

And you reach you own room, without any of you wish each other good night. While turning in bed, you couldn’t tell if you’re angry, or disappointed, or sad, or furious, or… You’re hurt. This was an emotion injury you couldn’t explain. And you had no clue even after thinking about this all night. You didn’t manage to sleep, and you were totally depressed and out of your plate on the morning. Like totally lost. You did nothing right. Since breakfast, you kept trudging and having trouble answering even basic questions like “Can you please hand me the butter ?”. This day has passed at a maddening speed, and you can’t tell what happened most of the times. For example, you know that you took an exam today, but you can’t say if it was difficult or not, if you completed it or not. Basically, today you were a zombie.

You desperately needed some sleep. So, in the middle of the dinner, while Momo was pouring you some tea she made for you because you seemed tired, you stood up and went to your room, mumbling a good night by habit. You just crumble on your bed.

“Pebble… Pebble, are you okay ?”

You didn’t even notice that Eijirou followed you, really worried about you. He snugs in the bed with you and hold you close. You two have a difficult conversations when you tell him about all the confusion and the pain you feel. He apologizes and hold you close all night long. And he’ll never act like this again, because the way you were today was definitely not okay for him. From missing his morning kiss to looking like a zombie, nothing was okay. He will watch his mouth to not hurt you anymore because you’re way too precious to him.

Denki has an outgoing personality, no doubt on it. You two are like day and night, you complement yourselves pretty well. He was a loud troublemaker and you are a quite and peaceful person. And these differences are precious to you, but sometimes it’s too complicated to handle.

He’s a loving boyfriend, but he can’t help himself. Always too cheerful, too playful, with anyone. He gets really flirty with any girl that talks to him, even if you’re right there, watching. He tells you to don’t mind, because he doesn’t do this on purpose. It’s just like… like a game. He gets female and even male’s attention, and he feels confident acting out like that. So you just accept it. Have you even got the choice ?

You don’t notice it anymore. His random smirks to Mina, his winks to Jirou, “innocent” sexual implied comments to Toru… Daily, there’s always someone to flirt or to tease with. And it’s the same with random strangers.

Like today. Well… You have to admit that this waitress is really pretty with her bright shiny smile and her disheveled hair buns. And, yeah, maybe she was attractive when she was wrapping this loose lock of her hair around her finger, shyly blushing when Denki was complimenting her and obviously undressing her with his gaze. And of course you can’t deny the fact that she is sexy. Certainly, all this shit is true. But today was supposed to be your day.

Denki and you are on date, he brought you to this fancy place to celebrate your date anniversary. This is all about you and him being in love. So, just for once, you want him to concentrate this flirty attitude of his on you. Was it too much to ask ? But you accept it, once again. He did all the conversation during the meal, and you barely enjoyed the dishes. You just wait for the end of this date to leave the place and the waitress behind.

But your patience has its owns limits. That were crossed far away when the b*tchy waitress, who purposely ignored you all the time, bent over and touched your boyfriend’s lap, giving him the dessert’s menu. You see red all over you, furious and mad, expecting Denki to react, but he just chuckles and light touches her forearm. What was this ? He never allowed anyone to act like this with him. Or maybe you just didn’t know…

“Thank you, miss, but I think that we don’t need you anymore. We’re leaving, could you bring the bill ?”

She stutters a bit, looking at Denki, who was too chocked to react.

“Aren’t we eating the dessert ? Why do you want to leave ?”

“I don’t feel comfortable, I just wanna go home please”

“And I want a dessert, could you please wait ?”

“No, I can’t. I am leaving. You can have a dessert if you want, you can even have the waitress with it as well, I don’t care.”

“Okay, see you later, then. I’ll try to have fun and enjoy, since you don’t know how to do so”

You furiously grab your handbag and run out the restaurant. You don’t stop running until you’re home. Your shaking hands and teary eyes had some trouble opening the door. You crumble against the stubborn closed door and cry yourself out. You can’t hold it. Long sobs, breathless coughs and heartbreaking screams. All this noise brought your neighbor, Sero, to check out what’s happening.

“(Y/N) ?! Are you hurt ? What happened ? What’s wrong ?”

You couldn’t tell him, your anxious cries preventing you from talking straightly. He assured himself that you’re not injured and helped you get in your bedroom. You can’t tell what he was doing around you, your cries slowly turning into a huge panic attack. Curled in your bed, you rock yourself back and forth, cutting yourself out from reality. You couldn’t hear Sero calling Denki and asking him to come home. You couldn’t hear your boyfriend freaking out when he heard you crying like that on phone. You couldn’t know that he was running towards home, feeling guilty and culpable, his sunshine having a mental breakdown because of him.

“Sunshine ? Sunshine! Look at me ! I am right there”

Denki’s voice find its way to your ears, to your mind, to your heart. You hold on to him like a lifeline, trying to calm down. He thanks Sero, who left, before joining you on bed. He breaths heavily for you to focus on his chest going up and down slowly. You imitate his breaths until you can think straight.

“Thank you, Denki… I am sorry, I-”

“I am the one who have to apologize. I acted like a piece shit back there. I am sorry, I didn’t know you were jealous. I shouldn’t act like this, I am sorry. You know, babe, that you’re the one and only. You know it, right ?”

“No… I don’t…”

“I don’t care about anyone else. You’re the one that I love. And if it makes you feel insecure, I’ll stop flirting like that, okay ? It hurts me to see you like this. I don’t want you to be hurt, you’re way too precious to me, babe.”

________________________________

Hey ! I don't have much to say... Hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to request anything else (angst is still okay but I don't handle it well so prepare yourself to be disappointed ^^')

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 18)

Hiya! I'm posting late, on account of my job. Editing these takes about an hour depending on the post and inserting the images takes a little more, but I didn't have a solid block of time to work on it, so I worked on it in pieces and I only just now finished.

This arc highlights Natsume's powerlessness. He's distancing himself from Mikan to protect her, but by doing this, he leaves her defenseless at times. He wants to be there for her but can't because of the corner he's been pushed into, and in his desperation he turns to anonymity.

Chapter Eighty-One

Hotaru, Natsume, and Ruka are running after them, but are caught by Tsubasa, who asks them what their plan is, exactly. Ruka turns to Natsume, who turns to Hotaru, who pretends she was just practicing her running for the Festival and then the boys started following her for no reason. This comic relief is a badly-needed break from all the bullying and blackmail of the arc so far.

This arc is full of fun comic relief, but the main plot is so depressing and frustrating that sometimes the comic relief is not enough.

In any case, all three of them know that the others are all working to take care of Mikan, even if she doesn't know it. They're all looking out for her in their own ways, even Natsume who seems to have publicly turned against her. At least Hotaru and Ruka can see the truth: he's still quite concerned about it, but he's in something of a bind now.

The next we see of Natsume, he’s walking with Tsubasa, being spied on by both Hotaru and Ruka. It’s here that we discover that Tsubasa has been transferred to the DA class, but is keeping this secret from Mikan. Moreover, he and Natsume are on a mission to locate Yuka, and they’re both aware that Mikan is her daughter. It’s interesting to know just how much information the DA class has on the other students that the other kids have no clue about. Hotaru and Ruka are shocked by this information, but for us as readers, it also demonstrates just how much work Natsume--and Tsubasa--are putting into protecting Mikan.

All this information is stuff they have to consider on their missions. They want to protect Yuka, because she’s Mikan’s mother, but they have no choice but to pursue and chase after her with raids and attacks. On top of that, Tsubasa is keeping his new ability class a secret, and Natsume has to hurt her with this Luna farce. It’s a lot to put on two kids, not that the ESP or Persona have much issue putting pressure on kids.

For Natsume in particular, it was fun while it lasted, being close to Mikan. He had relished and enjoyed it, and now he has to change pace. He’s willing to, because that’s how he can keep her smiling and having fun, even if he’s not on her team and can’t even be in her inner circle anymore. He’s willing to sacrifice anything for her, but we can see that it’s not any fun for him. Mikan is suffering in sadness, yes, but so is Natsume.

The next thing he has to do only makes things worse.

He confronts Mikan about the rumor Luna made up, about Mikan showing her underwear to the Fuukitai to avoid punishment. It’s obviously bogus: Mikan would never even think to do that, let alone actually do it. He knows that too, because Natsume knows her very well. He asks because he has to.

Mikan avoids answering, brushing it off as none of Natsume’s business, because she is also under Luna’s watchful gaze. So they end up having an argument in front of everyone, both not saying what they really mean, and instead doing as Luna commands, to keep everyone safe. Mikan points out that she isn’t his partner--or anything--anymore, so he should mind his business. Natsume then asks if that means his concern is a bother, and she confirms: yes. It’s a big fat pain.

It's heartbreaking and frustrating in equal spades.

It’s almost as if Natsume was testing something. Now he knows that Luna must have threatened Mikan in the storeroom. Something sinister happened there, and now Mikan is different, dishonest, mean. That’s not what she’s actually like, and now he’s concerned. Luna’s shadow is spreading and it’s threatening to encroach on Mikan’s light.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Natsume walks off, having heard all he needs to hear.

Luna is causing mayhem and strife to punish Mikan and Natsume specifically for their misbehavior on New Year’s. She wants Mikan to be isolated from Natsume in particular because he’s her number one protector. If there’s a wedge between them, Mikan is easier to target. After all, Mikan’s purpose at the academy is to lure in Yuka, and the more danger she is in, the more likely Yuka is to try and save her daughter. If Natsume is around, threatening Mikan becomes tricky. He’d never allow anything bad to happen to her, hence his desperation and sacrifice in this arc. In order to fulfill their goals regarding Yuka, they need Natsume out of Mikan’s picture.

Of course, despite Natsume’s secret intel being superior to Ruka or Hotaru’s (and definitely to Mikan’s), he’s still not entirely in the know. Yuka being the main target, for example, is information Natsume is not privy to, and couldn’t even imagine. This is a game Natsume is unaware that he cannot win. If he doesn’t distance himself from Mikan, she’ll be threatened, but if he does, she’ll be threatened. In reality, there's no way he can win this round.

Chapter Eighty-Three

Anyway, the Sports Fest doesn’t slow down for the kids’ drama. The athletic meets have begun, and now there is a relay race.

Ruka and Natsume are on different teams for the relay, and this has inspired Ruka to beat his best friend, so he can be number one in Mikan’s eyes for once.

I will talk way more about the “love triangle” aspect of NatsuMikan and the question of choice, autonomy, and agency in Mikan’s essay, because when it comes to Natsume's side of things, he's very much resigned to losing every romantic game, every relay race, every competition. It's no contest. He's not competing. He's withdrawn from the race, now more than ever. He will not participate. He is destined to lose, after all, so why even bother?

And so Ruka wins the actual relay, and Natsume watches as everyone has fun without him, something that he’s been accustomed to before. It hurts more now, undoubtedly, because for a time, he was actually a part of the group. Knowing what it feels like to fit in and have fun with everyone makes it even worse when it’s gone again. He used to separate himself from the rest and suffer all on his own, but now he’s returned to that state.

He hasn’t quite let go, either. His effort and commitment to the Sports Fest, despite all the drama with Mikan and Luna, demonstrate just how much he actually wants to participate. It’s not about having his friends around him. He actually likes being able to have fun, and be allowed to take part in an event with everyone else, even if he isn’t technically by his friends’ sides.

His bad feelings are only exacerbated by Luna, who shows up to taunt him. He shouldn’t worry about Mikan and Ruka, because they’ll be torn apart eventually. Whatever happiness they find right now is temporary. It won’t last, and Luna will make sure of it.

But Natsume loves both Mikan and Ruka, and that does not reassure him at all. He’s selfless, would rather they be together anyway. In a perfect world, maybe she could pick him, and it makes him sad that the world isn’t perfect and he can’t have what he wants, but he’s always at peace with losing. So he’s not at all comforted by the idea that the happiness his loved ones have found will dissipate in no time.

Chapter Eighty-Four

Luna then giggles, because whether or not Ruka and Mikan’s being split apart will result in Natsume’s happiness is another question entirely. She wants to rub it in that even if Ruka is out of the picture, he can never be with Mikan. Joke’s on her though, because Natsume has already come to terms with this the moment he fell in love with Mikan. He hasn’t been humoring ideas of love confessions and weddings and living happily ever after. It’s outside the realm of possibility, because his circumstances do not allow him much happiness at all.

The future seems bleaker than ever, and knowing that Ruka and Mikan are being kept under watch by the school, Natsume keeps an eye on them too. He’s feeling sad and heart-broken too, of course. He’s not perfect. He can’t erase feelings of jealousy or the ache of unrequited love just because he feels it’s his duty to make peace with them. It hurts, but he’ll carry through. That’s what he’s always done.

But people are gossiping about his presence, putting his position in jeopardy. Luna can’t know he’s still hanging around Mikan, even if Mikan herself is clueless to this. Before he can be discovered, he steals someone’s mask, the mask of a boy named Kusami whose hairstyle looks an awful lot like Natsume’s.

If only he could be allowed to just steal people's identities and not have to face any consequences for it. Alas.

Unfortunately for Natsume, the Borrowing Race is about to begin, and Kusami was arranged to be a participant. He put the mask on to avoid responsibility for his spying, but it’s bit him in the butt now.

Kusami benefits from this, indirectly, since kids who call him moron get the cold shoulder from Natsume, who doesn’t have the same easy-going personality.

It seems nobody actually wants to participate in the Borrowing Race. It’s very personal and vulnerable: you have to borrow a person or item you’d least want to borrow, as dictated on a small piece of paper assigned to you. It’s then judged by some mind-reading alices to test the validity of the borrowed items. The concept of the race functions around embarrassing and humiliating people, so naturally nobody would want to participate.

Natsume has gotten himself into trouble here. He can’t even make a run for it, though he really wants to, because for some reason people are hell-bent on Kusami competing. He’s in the second round, and starts running as he--or Kusami--is supposed to. He gets his paper and although we don’t see what’s written on it quite yet, we can see a focus on Mikan in one of the panels, so we can tell his first thought is to borrow her.

To confess anonymously in front of the whole school or to not confess anonymously in front of the whole school--that is the question.

And then in a few pages, emboldened by the mask he’s wearing, Natsume runs toward Mikan and grabs her wrist. He’s decided he will borrow her, because maybe she’ll never find out his true identity, and he can be selfish just this once. This could be his only chance ever to be honest about how he feels. He's had to lie and hide it for so long that it makes sense he'd take the first opportunity available to go for it. This is quite possibly the most selfish thing he’s done. If he gets caught, he’ll be entirely exposed.

Unlike Ruka, Natsume can't really win this race. He won't be number one in Mikan's eyes, ever. He can't ever tell her it's all for her. The very best he can do is compete with a mask on. Ruka can try his hardest and impress Mikan and Natsume feels he never will. It's not much of a competition when one person cannot and will not compete.

He runs, despite her confusion and obliviousness, or perhaps because of it.

And just as the fireworks displaying his prompt start going off in the sky, he lets her go and walks away resolutely. There. He’s participated.

“The person you love.”

Mikan is chasing after Natsume, but he can’t be caught. Being caught would ruin everything, and would make his selfish act even more selfish. He shoves the mask back into Kusami’s face, and takes off.

You'd think he'd be a bit happier to have finally confessed his feelings but he just looks miserable.

Natsume has been very selfish now. He didn’t have to grab Mikan. He could’ve borrowed anybody and lost. Does it matter if he wins? He’s not Kusami. He could’ve just gotten the race over with and run away, but instead he played along, because he wanted to confess. He’s never been so honest in his life. He wants her to know he loves her, even if she doesn’t know who “he” is. And if he gets caught, then Mikan will know for a fact that Natsume Hyuuga loves her, and everything he’s done so far--hyping up Ruka, distancing himself, being cruel to protect her, allowing Luna to cling to him--will have been for nothing. She’ll know it was all a ruse, and then she’ll be open to all sorts of dangers. But he risks it, because he just can’t hide it anymore. He always has to hide, always has to pretend, always has to sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of others. This time, he’ll say exactly what he means, made all the more easier by the fact that there’s a mask on his face.

He’s done something like this before, particularly when he kissed Mikan on Christmas.

And the Christmas kiss is nothing compared to this: an actual love confession. The kiss was just that, and he had plenty of excuses for why he’d kiss her. It wasn’t because he loved her, no way! It was because she kept saying the other one didn’t count. Or maybe he just wanted to know what it felt like. That’s all. The excuses were just another mask to hide behind.

What excuse could he possibly give for a love confession that a panel of mind-reading judges corroborated? If he’s caught, she will know.

All his tiny instances of selfishness are smaller examples of the same idea: he lets himself be affectionate for once. He can say he prefers her with her hair down, or hug her during the SA class labyrinth, or cuddle with her when he’s having a nightmare, just this one time, and then he’ll give up for good. She won’t notice. It won’t have an effect. It won’t have consequences. He’ll give up for good after; he’ll just do this one selfish thing and then never again. But he can’t give it up, and eventually Christmas happens. He kisses her, unloading so much affection into one action, as if he’s trying to just get it over with. He’ll just get all his love out with one kiss and then he’ll be okay to watch her fall in love with anybody else but him.

But he can’t. He can’t stop doing these little selfish things. He can’t suffocate his love and leave it to die, hidden and smothered like a skeleton in a closet. Despite his every attempt to kill it, to hide it, to pretend like it’s not important, it has only grown stronger. He loves her more and more everyday, and the more he loves her, the harder it is to pretend like he doesn’t care if he never gets what he wants.

He wants to be with her. He wants to kiss her and protect her openly. He wants to sit next to her in class and smile with her. He wants to spend time with her and be on her team for school events. He wants to hold her hand and tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t want to give it all up and wreck his own chances.

The longer he’s loved Mikan, the harder it’s been to be selfless like this. The yearning has only gotten stronger, and now it takes all his power to be cruel to her. What used to come naturally, like being cold and distant and insulting her, has become difficult. What comes naturally to him now is to confess his love or hold her hand or be around her.

Despite the fact that Natsume was the only person who seems to have borrowed the correct person for the race, the White team still loses, on account of him not actually being Kusami.

At the end of the chapter, he sits alone, brooding in a tree.

He hasn’t been caught, so his actions have no consequences for now. He can sit there and mourn what could have been. He can’t be with Mikan, let alone confess his feelings. This was just an excuse to live out a fantasy. He wants to be loud about his feelings, not muffle them. But this is Natsume we’re talking about. He never gets what he wants. And in his opinion, he shouldn’t because Ruka deserves a happy ending way more. And Mikan would never love him back anyway. Ruka would be better for her.

This is just another instance of Natsume promising himself that he’ll do one more selfish thing before he gives up forever. But we know he’s bad at keeping his word, and this is no exception.

Chapter Eighty-Five

Before Mikan can confront Natsume about the borrowing race, Luna steps in, covering for him, claiming she was watching with him from the bleachers during the race. She clings to his arm and drags him off, spurring even more rumors that he and Luna are an item.

She's so violent with him for really no reason.

He tells her to get off, but she reminds him that she’s just done him a favor (though it’s really just a favor to herself). She grabs his hand and holds it tight, and again people get the wrong idea. It’s interesting how such physically painful things come across as romantic to the people around them, who think that Luna is simply holding his hand. Natsume’s persistent look of misery and apathy doesn’t deter people at all from rumors that he’s dating her. After all, Luna is clinging to him with a smile on her face and he’s not doing anything to peel her off, so it must mean they have feelings for each other. Natsume has been so good at hiding his feelings, that nobody--not even the girl he really loves--knows what it looks like when he’s loving and affectionate to somebody. They think he's into Luna, and can't see that what he really needs is help.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Luna has just arranged a terrifying fall for Mikan, knowing she’d use her alice as a knee-jerk reaction to save herself, thus causing others to think she did it for the attention. Mikan could’ve been seriously injured, or worse, and is definitely in trouble now, so Natsume is furious.

He confronts Luna, and the only thing stopping him from hurting her is that he could put Mikan in even more danger by doing so. But Luna is remorseless, giggling that she had no choice but to threaten Mikan. After all, she’s just doing what the principal said they’d do. Mikan should have been put in Persona’s custody in the DA class immediately following the Hana Hime party incident, but Natsume’s sacrifices have allowed her to skate by. Luna is there to observe and punish what she perceives as bad behavior, and anything less than abject misery from Mikan is bad behavior to her.

She warns Natsume: if he really wants to protect Mikan, then he’ll make sure she’s hated. That way, she won’t be in danger.

Powerlessness.

Natsume can’t go around confessing his love to her with a mask on anymore. He needs to sacrifice their relationship entirely in order to keep her safe. And so he does.

He’s sitting on a bench, surrounded by his classmates. Permy is adamantly defending Mikan. These rumors that Mikan fell on purpose for the attention are obviously stemming from Luna, who has the whole class wrapped around her finger. She turns to Natsume, looking for back-up, but Natsume has been told clearly what to do in order to really protect Mikan, and it has nothing to do with standing up for her against these rumors.

Instead, he says that it’s best not to be involved with Mikan anymore. He doesn’t want to see her or hear about her anymore, and he doesn’t want to associate with anyone who associates with her. He tries to give off the impression that he hates her, that he’s disgusted by her.

Then he sees that she’s been there all along, listening.

This is almost like the scene where he tells her he hates everything about her. He’s doing the hard thing to protect her. He’s lying, willing to hurt her, willing to be the villain, if it means she’s in the light and out of the dark.

But this is different.

Mikan could take it before. She yelled back that she hated him too, just as much, and even though that was a lie, it was still something she was able to say. She could argue and fight. This time she crumbles and runs away.

And he’s different too. Before, he could walk away, resolute and determined. Knowing that she’ll be better off this way was enough for him. He didn’t even look back. This time, he can’t leave things like that.

After all, last time was easier. He didn’t think she actually liked him back then. It would really only hurt him. He knows better now. Mikan cares about him, and it doesn’t matter what shape that care takes. It only matters that hearing Natsume call her worthless brings her to tears now, and that’s enough for him to feel way more conflicted.

This time, he apologizes.

He doesn't say he's sorry, but he's saying he's sorry.

He finds Kusami, steals his mask once again, never saying one word to a kid who has been generously keeping his secret for him. He runs after Mikan, and when he finally catches up to her, he hugs her.

Wearing the mask while hugging her is like wearing a raincoat in a hurricane. It won’t change anything or protect him at all. In fact, all he’s doing is giving her confirmation that it’s him, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want her to think he hates her. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s sorry and he didn’t mean it.

He hugs her and this is different from his selfish hugs during the RPG or when he was having a nightmare. Those were little stolen moments for him to remember. He could take them from Mikan and cherish them as precious memories, even if she never thought of them again. This one is different. This one is for her, to comfort her, to apologize.

It’s all the things he can’t say. I didn’t mean it. Sorry. I have to do this. I really do care about you, I promise. It’s not real. Luna’s making me do this.

But before she can turn around to look at him, he leaves again.

He knows, because of Luna’s warning, that Mikan’s life will only get harder. He wants to help her, but by helping her, he’s placing himself further from her, making it harder for him to protect her in the future. If he’s distant from her to keep Luna at bay, then he’s not around to protect her from Luna in the storeroom, or during the cheerleading competition.

It’s what one might call a Catch-22. No matter what he chooses, he loses. And the worst part is that so does Mikan.

Conclusion

Natsume isn't an active participant in the last few chapters of this arc, so this is how I'll wrap the meta here. In the next arc there will be much to say about him. The Sports Fest went deep into Natsume's love for Mikan. It's not surprising that his love inspires selflessness. Natsume will always put others in front of himself and the more he loves someone, the more fervent he is about self-sacrifice. The truly beautiful thing about Natsume's love for Mikan is that it inspires selfishness too. And I never mean selfish as bad when I'm talking about Natsume. His love for Mikan is special in that it makes him want things for himself too.

I'm having doubts about being able to post tomorrow, so I apologize for only two posts this week. Expect normal posting next week at the very least! This essay is probably more than halfway through already, though I can't say for sure how much is left. Where I am now in terms of essay-writing is already deep in the Time-Travel Arc and as a result there's entire chapters I've skipped. Like. Seven in a row at times. Yikes. So basically we're pretty far in!

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[mieohmy]

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖲𝖺𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗎 | 𝖧𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

PAIRING: huang renjun x temp blind! reader

GENRE: angst (with a happy ending), fluff, humor, strangers-to-lovers, shared dreams! au, soulmate! au, college au

WC: 7.6k

NOTES: reader is temporarily blind, cursing, mentions of a car accident, trauma, slight anxiety and depression, mentions of injuries/hospitals

SUMMARY: dreams are your place where you feel alive -feel like yourself. the only place you can still see. which means you don’t want to share them. not with this random guy who keeps appearing in them, and especially not since he seems so real -almost like he actually exists in the real world outside of your dreams, but that couldn’t be possible... right?

oof this is late- anyways, it’s this beautiful soul’s birthday today <3 

hbd to our fairy renjunnie ! 

Three months. Three months stuck in that space.  

And all because of a reckless driver. Like they all say, it happened so fast. A single glance of the road. It seemed clear, the pedestrian sign flashing even. 

Then was the rush of a car engine coming closer. 

You suppose it was also your fault. Whoever it was that caused a notification to ping on your phone. It was an almost natural instinct to take it out and check.

But you were never able to find out. 

One of the scariest things in the world is to wake up and wonder why the world is an empty canvas. 

Why you have so many questions that can’t be answered.  

Why you can’t see the spring anymore.

The doctors said it was temporary. Some kind of head trauma from the accident caused whatever nerves to swell in your eyes. 

And that’s why you could no longer see the day. or night. anything. 

“It’ll eventually return to normal, and you’ll be able to see again. Just give it time.”

So why has it been three months and nothing except dark moving shadows and pain?

“I’m sorry, we’re not sure how long it’s gonna last. Let’s just wait and see.”

But how much time did you have to give? 

You were sent home in the end. The other injuries were much more minor, and you were just prolonging your stay. 

Only because you wanted to know. You wanted to know it would all go away. That it would be okay.

You just so desperately wanted to see once more.

They only gave you ambiguous answers. Answers that only made the scratchy and uncomfortable sensation inside you grow bigger. 

And here you were now. Four months after the incident and barely living on your own. Sight not improving in the slightest bit.

You lived separately from your parents, far away because of college. They helped you with all the hospital and stupid complicated health stuff, but there wasn’t much else they could do. There was no choice for them but to work hard and earn money instead of assisting you since bills were shit expensive.

You assured them it was fine, you would learn how to deal with everything. 

Friends were a different issue. The thing was, you didn’t have very many considering you just moved to a new school, but the few you did were kind and understanding. 

Except you never told them about the incident. Maybe because you were in denial. Maybe cause you were ashamed of yourself for ignoring them and cutting them out of your life. Because they got to see and experience everything they wanted while you were stuck behind.

And then you were truly alone. Alone with the faint light and shadows you were still sort of able to see. 

Siri basically became your best friend. You never realized how helpful it could be. Just ask, and it would tell you everything you needed to know.

To be honest, there wasn’t much to do. You weren’t able to attend your classes for the time being, and there wasn’t much you could to do without seeing. 

It was hard to adjust to life without your sight. There were a lot of things you couldn’t do without your sight. A lot of things were knocked over. A lot of bruises on your body from bumping into obstacles. That’s probably why you barely went out, only ever leaving your place for necessary resources to live.

This is not permanent. It’ll all go away soon.

You constantly told yourself that, repeating it in the morning. At night before you went to bed. But deep inside, you knew the real reason for everything. The denial, stubbornness.

The answer was clear. 

Fear. 

The fear of a permanent life without being able to fully experience the world. 

The fear of what your life would become without having the chance to achieve all your dreams and goals. 

You knew you should be grateful. For being able to see from birth until now.  You survived your accident with mostly minor injuries. Occasionally, you would get intense migraines- one where you could barely move- but you truly didn’t want to go back to that place to get it checked. You didn’t even want to leave your home.

At least you could still move and function properly for the most part. 

But it didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 

There was one thing. When your eyes closed for the day- when everything was okay. 

Because there was no need to feel any emotions asleep. 

But also because of the dreams. Mainly because of the dreams.

It wasn’t every day. You would absolutely love to dream every night, but if you did, then something must not be right. 

The power to dream and be able to recall everything in the world before you lost it all would be your one wish if anyone asked. 

Sure, you could just close your eyes and remember whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t the same. 

Dreams were like a story. A story you wanted to read. And you could only do it because of your memories. 

Thank the universe for memories. Ones that allowed you to still remember and see again in dreams. 

They were the one thing connecting you to the real world. 

The weird thing is, sometimes you would dream and be able to choose what you wanted to say and do. It was just like playing a fun game where you could do whatever you wished.

But it didn’t always happen. it only occurred on occasion. Why? You had no clue. 

But even so, you’ve never had a stranger appear in one of your dreams before.

ꔫ

You couldn’t recall everything that happened in last night’s dream, but when you woke up, a strange face was the only image stuck in your brain. 

You’re sure you’ve never seen him before. 

Can brains make up random faces? Or maybe you just made up a fictional character because of loneliness? 

Either way, he’s the only thing you can clearly remember.

Your eyes flick open, and it’s the same nothingness.

But his face lingers. Pretty and delicate eyes. Brown hair that flutters in the wind and a gentle smile that sucks you in. 

Who are you? 

Whoever this person was, you hope to dream about him again. 

ꔫ

And he does show up a few weeks later. Or has it been a month? You were really losing track of the days, especially now more than ever.

This time, the image of him is stronger in your head, burning into your skull. 

And you curse yourself for not remembering any more than his face. 

You rack your brain, trying your best to just think. 

Why do some people forget their dreams immediately when they wake up? When it feels like you’re just in one, but your mind starts up again for the day, and the dream vanishes just like that?  

You so desperately want to know. 

You can faintly remember images of a grassy meadow? Flowers? You don't recall any field that you’ve been to, but maybe it’s just somewhere you’ve forgotten about... Perhaps your mind just made your dream to be located there. 

As you get up for the day, you still wish to dream about him. A dream where you can fully control yourself and find this imaginary character you created in your head. Whoever he is.

ꔫ

And the world grants you that one wish. 

It’s been a while since you last dreamed. But of course, you never forgot him. 

The setting sun is the first thing that catches your attention. 

Immediately, you smile, standing up and brushing yourself off. 

The place is faintly familiar, a beach. You know which one. The one your parents used to take you when you were little. 

It looks exactly the same as you remember, but this was the first time you’ve ever dreamed about this specific place before. 

Then sounds of footsteps approaching make you look up.

It’s him.

The fictional character somehow procured from basically nowhere. 

What’s strange is that you didn’t even notice how the two of you were now sitting by the shore, watching the waves flow in and out. 

What’s even stranger is that you don’t question it, and neither does he. 

But you do take the chance to look at him, admiring his face.

“What’s your name?”

He looks startled like he never expected you to speak.

“Oh. Uh, R-Renjun.”

“Renjun,” you pronounce. The name feels unfamiliar on your tongue. 

Now how did your mind come up with a unique name like that?

You shrug, letting the dream continue on its own. 

But wait, you realize, if you were able to ask and think your own thoughts not according to the dream’s... that means you can control this-

Your eyes snap open. You can see nothing. And feel an oncoming headache.

Damn it.

ꔫ

You want to know why you’re so curious about this ‘character’. Why you want to see him over and over again without ever getting bored.

It’s just a dream. Or, several dreams that he’s appeared in by now. 

That could be it, you suppose.

You usually didn’t have about the same person, or in your case, the same ‘character’ appear in your dream three times in a row. 

But for some reason, you appreciated having your own imaginary friend in your dreams. 

 He wasn’t a real person. He wasn’t someone you had to watch out for. You could act however you wanted to him and he probably wouldn’t care. 

Wait-no, you correct yourself. He has a name. A name that seems so far but so close at the same time. 

Renjun. 

You go to sleep chanting his name in your head over and over again. 

ꔫ

“Wait... Renjun!” 

A satisfied grin appears on your face from having remembered his name. 

You stroll along the forest path, an unfamiliar one that you don’t particularly remember ever going to, but you shrug it off and continue towards him.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him, not having dreamed for a while. 

His eyes widen, taking you in. “Whoa. You’re here again?” 

You frown. “Um... yes? It’s nice to see you.”

Renjun nods hesitantly. “You too, uh....”

“Y/n!” you beam. You’re not sure why you’re so happy to see him, but any company is still company, so no complaining.

Since you figured you were able to control yourself in this dream, might as well take the opportunity. 

If your brain was able to give him a name and a *cough* pretty *cough* face, he must have a personality. And what better than to get to know ‘renjun’ while you still had dreams about him?

“Do you want to walk together?”

He shrugs. 

And since it’s your dream, right? you start on the path, knowing he’s gonna follow you anyways.

You reach an opening overlooking some city. It’s unfamiliar, but the sight is too pretty you don’t think much of it.

You can’t take your eyes away, the view one you’ve never seen before. One that wasn’t from your memories, and it almost blinds you. Especially since you haven’t been able to experience anything new in a while because of... everything at the moment. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“It is,” Renjun agrees. 

Why is it so natural for you to sit next to him, get along with him?

“I haven’t been able to go out like this for a while, so it’s a lot to take in at once.”

He glances at you.

“Really? Why?”

Suddenly the air feels tightening. 

“Um. Health stuff. I guess.”

Renjun nods. “That’s understandable. But going out might be good for you. It’s nice to get a little fresh air every once in a while.”

His words hit differently. It rings inside of you, making you sit up. 

“You’re right, Renjun. I should go out more.” Your voice is quiet but smooth. 

Suddenly, he laughs. It’s a beautiful sound flowing out in a beautiful place. 

“I say that, but honestly, I’m also holed up inside all day. I need to go out more too.”

You don’t get what he means by that- why does it matter to a non-existent person how often they go outside?- but the feeling of just being here is incredible. You can’t waste your time in this dream pondering on pointless thoughts. 

“You should take advantage of it. You never know what could happen one day. Never take things for granted.” You finish, voice suddenly serious.

He looks surprised. “Oh. I suppose you’re right. Thanks, y/n.” 

Instead of responding, you sit back on the ground, looking at the dream -but still beautiful- sky.

Your hand pats around for a second before landing on its target. Your fingers wrap around renjun's, pulling him back so he plops down next to you with a grunt. 

“Geez, could’ve given a warning.”

“There’s no need for warnings here,” you sigh. 

Sure, the clouds aren’t real, but you’ll take any chance to see something you can’t in reality anymore. 

“Y/n,” he starts.

And when you turn to look at him, his face is a lot closer than you thought.

There’s a pause. 

The last things you remember are his long fluttering eyelashes and alluring brown eyes- ones that look so realistic and strangely familiar? 

That morning, you wake up with the scent of the woods still lingering in the air and a little more ease in your heart.

ꔫ

Over the next couple of months, Renjun keeps appearing. And you’re completely fine, even delighted with that. 

Now you’re always excited to go to bed, hoping each night that you’ll dream about him. 

Even as the days get hotter and your a/c is definitely getting overused, you find yourself thinking about him and imagining if he was next to you. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that Renjun wasn’t real. No matter how much you wished he was. 

But you still considered Renjun your friend. Technically, your only friend.

And each time you met in your dreams, you felt happier and more content. You felt alive next to him, your heart that always beat faster around him only confirming it. 

Sometimes you’d spot Renjun in a place from your memories, and sometimes he would appear in a completely unfamiliar area to you. 

You didn’t care enough to think twice. A new place with new sights was a highlight to your encounters. 

And today, it was no different. A colorful park. You know you’ve never been here before, but it feels like you’ve seen it somewhere..... perhaps somewhere online? 

Ever since the second time you met him, you noticed a theme with the unknown places you sometimes ended up in. 

Mostly in nature, surrounded by fresh air and plentiful green. You were confused, but I mean, who cares? They were beautiful, peaceful. Places that made you forget everything. 

You find Renjun sitting down at a nearby bench, messing with his hands.

“Hi.”

He looks up, attempting to smile, but it falls short. “Hello, y/n.”

That’s interesting. Renjun always seemed happy to see you. At this point, you can tell when he’s acting strange or not.

You decide to play along. “What’s up?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff.” You cock an eyebrow, amused. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt weird when he says something like that.

“You know, for being an imaginary character, you sure act like a real person.”

“What did you just say?” Renjun stands up.

You follow, getting up and looking at him, confused. “What?”

“What the hell do you mean by imaginary?”

“Imaginary? You don’t exist -like you’re not real?”

“No way.”

Your eyebrows raise. Why was he getting so defensive over this?

“I’m not an imaginary character- you are.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What the fuck?

“Stop talking nonsense.” Even though you’re trying to stand your ground, you can’t help but reevaluate everything. You look at him, panicked but still staring straight into his eyes as if to say, stop the joking right now.

Renjun only stares at you, fighting back with a headstrong expression. “I’m not. So you should stop too.”

You place your hand on his arm, inhaling.

Renjun tries to pull away, bewildered, but you keep your grip.

His arm feels warm, veins partially showing through. Almost like a real.....no way. But there’s even a faint scar on his wrist. Your brain couldn’t possibly be so meticulous as to add such details to a fictional person.

Your eyes flick to Renjun, studying him, memorizing everything you can about him.

Your breathing is heavy as you step closer to him, almost in a daze. “If you’re not just an imaginary person I created in my dreams,” you whisper, watching as he swallows and his adam’s apple bobs up and down-

“Then who are you?”

But before he can say anything, the world fades to black. 

You wake up with an immense urge to scream in frustration but also hide away to just think everything over.

You lay in bed for what feels like hours. Contemplating. Panicking. 

This was a joke, wasn’t it? 

He’s lying. 

Just a dream? 

But this time, you can’t say that it was “just a dream..”

Your hand punches the bed in defeat.  

You don’t understand. How are you able to see another living and breathing human in your dreams? 

All the things and places you were able to dream about were because of your memories. But Renjun... Renjun was a complete stranger. 

So how are you able to see him perfectly fine?

You think back to all the previous times you met him. 

If he truly was real, then he must’ve been dreaming too? Since he believed you weren’t real either? 

And all the unrecognizable places you saw -they must exist in real life? 

That means.... you and Renjun must be sharing dreams.

There were a lot of questions. All that were making your brain pound. 

More importantly, how the fuck are you even able to share dreams with another person? 

ꔫ

You spend every night praying that you’ll fall asleep and see Renjun again. 

Renjun? Is that even his real name?

Oh my god, you don’t know anything about him. 

But for some reason, it isn’t hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he exists. 

His reaction seemed so real -he couldn’t possibly be faking right? 

You smack your head on the pillow. Many times. Repeating, “Go to sleep. Dream. Go to sleep,” over and over again. 

Until eventually, you do. 

And when you find yourself at your old middle school- gross- you immediately start. 

Getting up, you navigate throughout the old place. Everywhere’s blurry and hazy though, you suppose it’s because you haven’t been here in a while and forgot.  

Where is he? You know he has to be here somewhere. 

You spot his familiar silhouette. Target acquired. 

He must’ve felt your presence too, since he turns around to face you. 

You’re about to say his name, but then you remember the whole ‘he’s actually a real person thing’ and then you can only splutter out an accusing “you!” with an accompanying point of a finger. 

“Me?” His eyes widen. “No-you’re not supposed to be a real person. So who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” You repeat yourself again with more force. 

“This is my dream, and you’re in it. Look,” you gesture around. “This is my old school. If I wasn’t real, could we be here at a place like this?”

Renjun falters, and you exhale. “I’m not joking. I swear. My name is y/l/n y/n.”

He holds his hands out. “B-but how? How can you-?”

You shake your head wearily. “I don’t know. I don’t even know you!” 

He sighs in defeat. “My name is Renjun. Huang Renjun. And I promise I’m not joking either. I truly thought you were just a figment of my imagination.” 

You nod, fidgeting before holding out a hand. “Well then, I believe you. Nice to meet you,” you look into his glittering eyes, “Huang Renjun.” 

When his hand touches yours, you feel a rush of emotions. 

You think he does too, judging by his tightening grip on yours. 

He quickly takes his hand away, making you frown. “And just to prove it, you know the forest we were at once?”

You nod, recalling the pretty leaves. You haven’t seen leaves in a while.....

“It’s near my city in the real world. And that mountain too.”

Then it hits you. You glance up at Renjun, surprised. 

“No way. I know where you’re talking about. You live like, a couple of hours away from me.” 

“Wait, really? Where do you-“

You sit up, feeling the familiar sensation of a blanket around your legs. 

And then let out a loud screech of frustration - while also internally apologizing to your neighbors.

ꔫ

When you meet Renjun in the next dream, you pick off where you left off, and move into telling each other about your actual lives.

“You study plants? That explains why we’re always near grass in your dreams.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking. It’s really nice. I like it more than you may think..”

“Seriously,” you look up from your position on his lap, “savor it while you can.”

He nods dutifully. To others, it may seem annoying or strange that you’re constantly telling him to enjoy when he still has the time, but Renjun appreciates it. 

It’s always a nice reminder.

He assumes something must’ve happened to you before, but nevertheless, he doesn’t pry. 

“What about you? What are you studying?”

Suddenly, you can’t look at him. You're unable to tell him that you don’t even attend school anymore. 

“Um, I’m still deciding... it’s hard, you know?”

“I get it. Comfortably take your time. You don’t have to rush, do what you want.”

Your heart warms. 

“Can you cook?”

“Eh.”

“What about roller skating?”

“I’m a pro.”

“Bet I could beat you.” 

“Oh yeah? Just wait, one day we’ll go together in person, and I’ll kill you at it.” 

“What about aliens?”

Your eyebrows raise. “What about aliens?”

“What- what do you think of them?”

“Oh. Aliens are cool.” 

“Do you think they’re real?

“Sure. I mean, if we’re able to share dreams like this, then why can’t aliens exist too?”

You miss the growing smile on renjun’s face. 

“.... is this what you really look like in real life?”

“What- yes! Why would I look like someone else in my dream?”

“I dunno, you’re a lot more handsome than most guys I can remember..” you trail off, hoping he doesn’t catch the rest of the sentence. He does. 

That goes on for a while, asking each other random questions. But while you’re still here in the dream, you should take advantage of it. 

Standing up, you brush yourself off. 

“Huh, what’s up y/n?”

“The sky.”

Renjun scowls. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

And then you sprint off, yelling, “first one to the tree gets bragging rights!!”

Renjun falls halfway, and you have to help him and his dramatic ass. 

ꔫ

When Renjun brings up the prospect of possibly meeting each other in real life, you’re both really excited at first. 

But then it hits you. That’s right. You’re kinda blind at the moment. 

You never once told him about your... sight problems, probably because you first thought he wasn’t even a real person, and it never seemed important. 

As Renjun sits there, excitedly listing off ways to find each other that actually while you’re awake, you can only absentmindedly nod, a storm brewing inside you. 

It makes your insides churn. Should you tell him? 

You hated lying, but there was that growing insecurity rising up. 

What if he finds out everything and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore?

What if Renjun doesn’t want to be your friend? 

What if... 

He leaves you?

“Y/n???” He waves a hand in front of you. 

You blink. “Yes?”

“I was just talking about how it’ll take around 3 hours to take the subway to your city or, yours to mine. When we both have a free day, we should meet up!”

He looks so excited and cute, but you still cringe. When was the last time you took the subway? 

You nod uneasily. Renjun must notice your expression because he turns concerned, “Are you alright?”

You hastily smile. “Fine. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff,” you joke. 

That answer must be good enough because he drops the subject. 

What have you gotten yourself into?

ꔫ

And for the first time, you’re scared to dream. 

Scared to see Renjun. 

Stress and anxiety gnaw at your head, swirling thoughts constantly floating in and out. 

Renjun won’t like you anymore. 

He doesn’t want to be with a liar.

And after he excitedly mentions that he obtained an internship near your city in the spring, your guilt and frustration grow more.

Since that one conversation, you’ve been having more and more headaches, most likely because of the lack of sleep from stress.

Renjun’s probably sleeping peacefully hours away from you as you stay up, plagued with concerns.

You shake your head, wanting to get rid of bad thoughts so the pain doesn’t overtake your brain again. 

Think of happy things. Happy memories when you were young and carefree. 

Like.... the one water park you went to with your friends years ago. That was a good memory.

You rack your brain.

Wait a second -what did it look like again?

ꔫ

As the air turns colder, you have to bust out the old heater that hasn’t been used in years-the dust floating in the air lingered for days. 

Overtaking your breathing, your brain. 

Just like your thoughts. 

You’re still constantly worrying about Renjun.  Because of Renjun.

And yourself. 

You and Renjun. 

Renjun and you. 

All those thoughts weren’t good for you. Why you may ask?

More thoughts lead to overthinking. 

Overthinking leads to stress. 

Stress causes the agonizing headaches. 

And those headaches are the bane of your existence.

Because it makes you unable to recall. 

The headaches weren’t a big deal at first. After the car accident, the doctors said your brain seemed clear for the most part. 

But obviously- it wasn’t- since you were here now with daily migraines- the pain multiplied from anxiety. 

And that caused your memory loss.

It was simple things at first, just like what you ate for the day and where you put your stuff. (It was already difficult since you couldn’t see, and the forgetful memory was making it so much worse) 

And then it was the more important recollections. 

Like what your parents' birthdays were. Your favorite restaurant. What schools you attended.

You don’t want to admit that the only thing left perfectly clear in your brain is yours truly, Huang Renjun. 

This isn’t happening. 

Pigs can’t fly and.... you can’t remember. 

Why? Every time you try to think of something, your brain pounds like crazy.

You really don’t want to believe it’s an effect of the accident. And the stress. 

You don’t want to think about it at all. 

But sadly, you were still human and had to sleep. 

Which meant eventually dreaming sooner or later...

“Y/n!” 

Wait. What?

“What’s going on?”

No. What’s happening?

“I know people don’t dream that often, but three months and nothing from you? I went to bed, happy at the thought that we might meet again, but it’s like you’re purposely not sleeping and avoiding me or something-!” 

There’s no way you heard everything he just said, even his irritated tone that you’ve never heard before didn’t faze you. 

Due to the fact that everything except Renjun himself was a blur.

Basically- you couldn’t see shit. 

Your heart rate begins to pick up. You swirl around, squinting and rubbing your eyes like crazy. 

Why? Why is this happening? Why can’t you see the dream world around you?

But you know the reason- it’s quite obvious. 

Since your memory disappeared just like that. And without your memories, everything has crumbled to nothing. 

Ironically, you forgot about Renjun who was still standing there, perfectly fine.  

“Y/n? What wrong?”

He snaps a finger in front of you, and you barely react.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Your voice has been reduced to a whisper.

“Listen-I-why are you lying? I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted each other enough to talk honestly.”

It’s too much. Renjun’s growing anger plus everything you’re experiencing at the moment is overwhelming. 

“Just stop-!” You screech, arms held out in front to protect yourself from everything. 

He freezes. 

And you collapse on the ground, hands shaking as you look around. Look for anything you can clearly see. 

There’s nothing.

The worst pain ever runs through your brain- the feeling to curl up in a ball and stop everything is strong. 

“Y/n- please. Please talk to me.”

He leans in front of you. 

“I- see-“ you splutter, collecting your thoughts.

Your mouth forms the words but immediately comes to a halt.

He doesn’t know. 

You stare at him, helpless. Your eyes flicking all over the place, pupils dilated. 

Renjun does the only thing he can think of at the moment. 

He places his lips on yours, and your eyes automatically close. 

Your heart steadies, adrenaline slowly fading. 

He just feels... right. 

And then his hand brings your body closer to his, making- 

You sit up in bed, breathing heavily. 

All you can think is, 

what a dream. 

And as much as you still feel the ghost of his soft lips on yours, you can’t get over the fact that everything else was blurry. 

You could only see faint lights and shadows. 

You couldn’t remember. 

ꔫ

No. 

What does the sky look like again? 

No.

Why can’t you remember the day anymore?

You spend days- weeks maybe even- trying to recall as much as possible. And spend less time attempting to sleep for the chance that you’ll have to see Renjun again. 

Your mind is in shambles. One part of you is yearning to see him -find Renjun in the dreams again and explain everything. 

But the other part is scared. Extremely terrified at his reaction. His feelings. 

Will he still- you dare to say- like you? 

I mean, that kiss had to mean something, right? 

Right?

You smack the nearest object in exasperation.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. 

Can everything just stop? 

Your poor pillow has been punched into oblivion by now. 

Either way, you fall into what could be considered a slump. 

A slump in life. 

The uncomfortable sensation grows bigger and bigger each day since the only thing you can do is stay at home and dwell on the fact that your life is basically over now.

There's no recovery in sight -ha- of your future. 

Each night is spent exerting your aching brain to recall. 

The only thing that comes back is Huang Renjun.

But once again, you’re only human. A human that occasionally passes out from the lack of sleep.

Renjun would be nagging at you. Your heart automatically drops at the thought of him. How long has it been since you last seen him?

More importantly- how long has it been since you last properly slept? 

You can’t even see yourself but you know the eye bags you’re carrying are bigger and brighter than your future. 

You call out for Siri. 

“It’s currently 3:21 AM.“ 

You sigh, so desperately wanting to chuck your phone across the room even though you know finding where you threw it would take hours. 

Pathetic. 

And then you figured you must’ve fallen asleep. 

Because you open your eyes. And at first, it just seems like another day of barely making it through life, but no- this is different. 

You’re not in your bed. You’re on a blank, hard surface.  

You realize where you are right as a familiar voice calls out your name. 

The fear that courses through you is a feeling to laugh at.

“What the fuck, y/n.”

There’s no way you’re getting out of this. 

“What’s going on? I just wanna know why. You ghost me for months without saying anything. I deserve an explanation.” Renjun’s fists are clenched at his side, anger barely seeping through. 

You sigh wearily, partly from him and partly from the fact that you still can’t see anything else except his face. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been going through stuff, okay?” You hope your tone is enough to tell him that you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

But it isn’t. 

“What things? You can tell me, y/n. I thought we were close enough for that. I thought we trusted each other.”

As much as your heart clenches at his words, it isn’t enough to suppress the frustration building inside you. 

“This isn’t about trust, Renjun. It doesn’t matter if I trust you or not. What does it have to do with me telling you about my life? It’s my privacy.”

His eyes burn into yours. 

“So you don’t trust me?”

“What- of course, I do! Why are you so stuck up on that?”

“Cause I care about you,” he groans, running his hands through his hair. “I care about you- a lot- but clearly, you don’t seem to return the feelings!” 

“What? What makes you think that!?” 

“Because you act like this!” He forcefully gestures. “Because you push me away without any explanation and don’t show any sign of your feelings! Don’t seem affected like I am when I haven’t seen you in months and miss you, okay?”

You pinch your nose bridge, annoyed. “Well, I’m different. If you cared about me that much, wouldn’t you have noticed?”

You know your words mean nothing. They’re just randomly produced from the deepest, darkest insecurities that are pent up inside and need to escape. 

“What’s so different about you? As far as I’ve known and seen you, you’re just another human like me-“

“-Because I can’t see fucking anything, okay?” You yell, forcing yourself to take a breath. 

“I’ve been blind for what seems like forever, and at first it was all okay, but now I can’t remember anything except you, which means I can’t see shit. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

You feel your body trembling, barely able to look at him. 

A good silence lasts for a couple of minutes. 

You turn around, anywhere away so you don’t have to look at his face anymore- since he’s stupidly the only thing you can even see. 

You don’t know what to feel. Perhaps relief for finally saying it? Exhaustion from keeping everything pent up and finally letting it all out? 

Then you recognize the sensation. 

You’re waking up. 

You think Renjun calls your name at the exact moment. But it’s too late. You’re already gone at that point. 

And now you don’t know what to do. 

ꔫ

After that, you get the best sleep in your life.  There’s surprisingly no more stress about lying to Renjun, you already spilled everything. 

On the other hand, there is his whole response. But you bury those worries deep inside. 

Maybe it’s for the better, you think. After the fight, you couldn’t the guilt go. The angered lies that slipped from your lips won’t leave. 

Renjun doesn’t deserve someone like you. 

But for once, you decide to go out. To get some needed fresh air like someone once advised you to, and also because you’re running out of food to eat. 

Before you leave, you grab the sunglasses on the counter and put them on. Most people would just think you’re avoiding the spring sun, which is exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t want them to see your blank stare and then realize that you had lost your sight. It was simply more comfortable for you and others. 

It was always a challenge to go out. Strange how normal people would never think twice before closing the door behind them and entering the outside world, but it became something you had to prepare yourself for. 

Taking a deep breath, you close the door behind you and navigate as best as you can to the nearby cafe. 

Sure, you barely left your place, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy a refreshing drink outside every once in a while. 

Two people bump into your side, and you barely spare them a second, continuing on. 

An apology is given, but you brush it off, hiding your face and quickly continuing on. 

That’s strange. One of the voices sounded really familiar, but it was too quick, and you barely heard the voice enough to pinpoint it. 

It happened all the time- if not always- running into another person. But this time, it was different. After touching the stranger's shoulder by accident, it felt like a flame burst inside of you. Intense enough to make your head spin a little and set your body alight. 

And the sun wasn’t making it better. 

Gosh, why is the sun so bright today? 

You brush it off, opening the door to the cafe and taking your sunglasses off to be polite and not seem weird or suspicious. 

You squint at the board, cautiously walking to the register and ordering. 

After they confirm your order, you find a nice spot alone in the corner. 

It’s not too busy or slow today, you note. But soon boredom overcomes you, and eventually, you find yourself staring at the entrance door whenever someone new enters for no reason in particular. 

The entrance bell rings, and your eyes subconsciously flick to see who it is. 

Wait. 

No fucking way. 

It can’t be. 

Huang Renjun?

 in your city?

Entering the same cafe you were currently at? 

You suddenly remember. One dream, a long time ago when he excitedly rambled on about that internship he got. Located where you lived. That’s right, he said it was in the springtime. And here he was now. 

A string of curses run through your brain, your heart beginning to pick up its pace in panic. 

You debate just leaving. But your order..... oh god, what if he sees you? 

Will he recognize you? Stupid, obviously Renjun would recognize you. 

What if he comes up to you? 

Shit, you have no clue what to do. 

Maybe if you just look away and hide your face when he passes, then he won’t see you. 

You look down, pretending to be occupied with your shirt and shuddering when you hear his voice get closer.

You let out a tiny sigh of relief when he passes with someone else, you suppose a friend. But it’s not over. 

“Order for y/n!”

You unleash more curses internally. Of course, they had to call your name. Of fucking course. 

You desperately hope Renjun isn’t paying attention.  

Exhaling, you try to act as normal as possible walking up to get your drink. But before you even make it there, you can feel eyes on you. It burns the back of your head. 

You scream into your mouth, teeth gritting to barely muffle the sound. 

It’s okay, just pretend you can’t see him -you already yelled at him confessing that you were blind anyway, so maybe he thinks that you can’t see him. 

It’s fine. 

Act normal. 

You obtain your order and take one step carefully at a time. 

Oh no. 

Oh no- he’s coming towards you. You can just barely see in your peripheral view Renjun approaching and getting closer. 

“Y/n.” 

You try not to stiffen at his voice. Just act like you’re blind and can’t see him. 

Turning around, you pretend to act blank. “Yes? Who’s talking to me?”

“Y/n,” Renjun says more insistently. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

And then his hand reaches out to yours.

You panic, swatting it away. 

You hear renjun's breath hitch. “Wait- how did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y-you,” he stutters, “you blocked my hand. B-but how? I don’t-“

You frown. “Cause I saw it?”

Your hand raises up to cover your mouth. 

You saw his hand. 

You can see. 

What- when did this happen? 

How did this happen?

Why didn’t you notice? 

There are so many things swirling in your mind, but Renjun calls your name again. 

You look back at him, truly look at him, and suddenly it’s like all the puzzle pieces fit together. 

He’s breathtaking. It’s so different seeing him in person and not in your dreams. If anything, you’re jealous of how much prettier he seems in real life. 

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. Seeing those eyes that once captivated your soul right in front of you. 

“The last time I saw you was in my dream,” you breathe, “but it feels like the first time I’m meeting you.” 

Renjun doesn’t say anything, and abruptly you find yourself in his arms. 

You don’t care that you’re hugging in the middle of a public place, it just feels so right. 

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was just so afraid at what you'd say, and I just liked you too much and I’m sorry-“

Renjun pulls back, staring at you like he hasn’t seen anything more magnificent before. 

“It doesn’t matter. You can tell me everything you want now.” 

ꔫ

“I’m happy to report that the swelling in your optic nerves has gone down. It’s like a miracle occurred,” the doctor remarks.

Luckily, renjun’s internship lasted for a couple weeks, and you were able to spend as much time as possible with him. The only time you weren’t next to his side was when he was working or you were at the doctor's to check up on your condition. 

There was no more blankness. There were no more headaches. It’s like Renjun brought a breath of fresh air into your life. It’s almost like he was meant for you. 

You simply smile and laugh at the doctor as you think, 

Yes, a miracle did happen. One where I met the person who seemed only like a dream and learned the most important lesson in my life. 

That dreams really can come true.

Bonus : 

“Renjun, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Well excuse me for not having ever been to this place before.”

“Okay, you’re excused.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, and you grin cheekily before taking his hand. 

“C’mon, we still have to get to the top.” 

“Did you get the blankets?”

“Yep.”

“And the snacks?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got your favorite.” 

It’s been so long since you came here. Your favorite spot to stargaze. The one you went to all the time before the accident. The one you were going to when the car accident happened. 

But this time it was different. You had Renjun next to you. 

After ten minutes of hiking and Renjun complaining, you finally make it to the top of the secluded hill, the night sky seeming so close and yet so far. 

Renjun takes everything in with a breath. “Wow. I can see why you love this place.”

You feel a rush of emotions. How long has it been since you were able to come here and see the stars? 

You two set up the blankets and sit back, embracing the sight. 

He sits down on the blanket, and you automatically lie down next to him, placing your head in his lap. 

“Doesn’t this remind of you that one dream where we saw your city from above?”

Renjun grins. “I remember that. I still thought that you were just a fake simulation or whatever. And now look, we’re together in real life.”

You hum thoughtfully. 

“Thank you, Renjun.”

He looks down at you. “For what?”

Suddenly you can’t look him in the eye. “For everything. For being my friend and never leaving,” you gulp, nervous. 

“I... I love you.” 

Renjun jerks a little, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

You breathe in, out. “I love you, huang renjun.”

He starts laughing for some reason, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“I love you too.”

After that, you enjoy the peaceful silence and the buzz of the insects. 

“...don’t you think this would be a hotspot for aliens to come to? This field is so vast and secluded -if I were an alien, I would come here a lot.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. But I guess I would too.”

Renjun suddenly looks at you with an accusing glare. And you catch on, smacking his side. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay sure. You totally weren’t gonna say something about how I could be an extraterrestrial creature from another planet since I come here so often.” 

“Well-”

You stuff food in his mouth to shut him up. 

He chews for a minute or two before talking again. 

“.... what if we get abducted by them?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been here so many times, and nothing happened to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you are a-“

“Oh my gosh. Just stop. And trust me, if I were one, you would already be abducted with that face,” you joke.

You look up from your spot on his lap, staring up at the twinkling lights in the dark sky. 

“It doesn't matter, I’m not scared.”

Renjun looks down at you with a curious smile. “Why?” 

“Because everything got a little better when I saw you.” 

And the stars seem to agree, twinkling in the background when your lips reach up to meet his.

You had so many questions that couldn’t be answered. 

But maybe it would all be okay.  

Because you could suddenly see the spring again.

a/n: if you made it to the end, thank you for reading :) 

also i tried my best to research as much as i could on all related topics to this work yadaddaa but if there are errors and inaccuracies, i apologize! 

taglist: @elcie-chxn @dearseungie​ 

unable to tag: @flower-lise  

[hongism]

the little things - j.yunho

↣ pairing: yunho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.3k ↣ summary: it’s been quite some time since these intrusive thoughts came around, but whenever they do, there’s always one person in particular who comes to brush them away. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, seasonal depression, and general Sad Feelings

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops drums against the window, filling it with strewn and random patterns of the water that falls from the sky, and you watch the movements with a blank mind. It’s a cold and resigned feeling that blossoms in your gut as you sit by the windowsill, elbow propped up on the wood and chin resting atop your clenched fist. You could sit here for hours just examining each little dragging drop on the glass, maybe even seeing which drop can reach the bottom of the window fastest, but instead, you pull back with a quiet sigh falling from your lips.

Winter.

You aren’t sure how to explain it but the season is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite wrapped into one lovely little bundle. The air outside isn’t quite cold enough to let snow fall and stick to the ground quite yet — hence the rain — but the season brings you as much joy as it does pain and emptiness. You enjoy the snow and seeing what kinds of animals hustle and bustle in their winter coats outside your cottage, and you love seeing the way the sun bounces off the icy lakes and rivers nearby or how the evergreen trees catch hold of little snowflakes. But those are just temporary things that don’t last in the long run because you cannot shake the dismal feeling that begins to enter your gut around autumn.

Living alone in your little cottage has its perks, of course, although they always seem few and far between when it comes time for this seasonal plague to grip your mind. Work is always most busy in the winter as well, which only adds to your despondent mood when you cannot spend more than an hour in the presence of your lovers. So really, it’s one bad thing after another, a myriad of bad to worse that leaves you in tears at the end of the day more often than not.

You should probably be working now, at least filling next week’s orders or double-checking the ones you finished bottling earlier today. There is hardly any energy in you right now though, so the best you can do is blink a few times and stare out the window again.

It’s in times like these when you truly consider Seonghwa’s never-ending offer. The season wouldn’t be nearly so difficult if you lived with the rest of them in the coven’s home. Yet it is near impossible for you to entertain the thought while in this state. Your mind prefers to be less than kind and give you endless scenarios that have you biting back tears and crying yourself to sleep.

Maybe they don’t really want you. They have each other. Why would they need you on top of that? Seonghwa just pities you because you act so pathetic. You would just be a burden if you lived with them. You aren’t a witch like they are, you don’t have any magical abilities in you, what could you provide? They can do all the things you do in half the time surely. You are, quite literally, useless in their eyes.

Sometimes the thoughts become more cruel and harsh than that, all following the same theme of not being needed or wanted. And as much as you want to rely on them for comfort and support, you lose the internal battles more often so you resign yourself to sitting in a bed of your own tears and heartbreak. Fall asleep eventually, wake up, work until you cannot stand anymore, then repeat the process.

This week alone has seemed to pack more of a punch than any of the previous years of this seasonal plague, but that could be because you haven’t been through a winter alone like this since before your relationship with the coven started. Last year, Wooyoung and Jongho took to living in your cottage throughout the whole season just to keep you company. Perhaps the reason they are not here this year is because you’ve become too much, too burdensome, too emotionally draining to be around. Logic tells you that is not the case. That melancholy black dog residing in your mind does not.

Someone will surely be by to visit soon given how quiet you’ve been these last few days. You’re shocked that no one has come by sooner, but the second you begin to think about it, the black dog returns to barking loudly where he sits in your thoughts. The noise in your head is so loud and overwhelming that you actually have to push away from the window, shaking your head fervently and jerking out of your chair in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

The voice intrudes on your ugly thoughts, and it fills you with panic before anything else. You whip around in your little window seat, eyes immediately looking towards the door to your bedroom which is now cracked open. You can’t see anyone behind the door or in the room, and merely hearing your name did not give you enough clues as to who could possibly be in your home at this time.

“Baby, are you in here?” The noise resounds again, and this time you recognize it better.

Yunho. Why is Yunho here? A shadowy figure pushes past the doorframe, and your lover slips through the opening with his shoulder. You try to hide your signs of panic, furiously blinking away the tears that begin to spring to your eyes. Why is he here? Did someone send him? Maybe they sent him to tell you that the relationship is over. He is best at handling emotionally charged conversations since he’s a fae and can influence thoughts and emotions. Maybe Hongjoong and Seonghwa decided that he would be best for delivering the news or—

“Hi, love, I didn’t know if you were home because you didn’t answer the door.” Yunho pushes a soft smile onto his lips, and as he fully steps into view, you catch sight of the two mugs in his hands. You can’t see the contents in them, but there are small wisps of steam curling up from both as Yunho comes closer to where you’re sitting. “I saw the kettle boiling away though so I figured you wouldn’t up and leave with it still running.”

Yunho doesn’t stop moving until he reaches the window seat, and he extends one of the mugs towards you. The inside of a mix of green of brown, no doubt some type of tea that he’s brewed for you. You take it with a slight nod and restrained smile.

“I know Hongjoong said you didn’t want to be bothered without notice but…” Yunho trails off, cheeks glowing a bit red. “I was worried about you since this time of year is always hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, but your tone is too clipped and noncommittal to be normal. Yunho surely knows that it is more than a simple white lie. “Did one of them send you?” He most likely knows who you’re talking about, but he shows more confusion than anything else.

“Why would one of them send me?” He asks as he eases down in front of you on the window seat. You blink back with a bit of dazed wonder to your stare, half-expecting Yunho to explain further, but he just sits and waits patiently for you to speak again.

“To – to make the conversation easier?” 

“What conversation?” Yunho leans across the space between your bodies, and his free hand spreads forward to tangle with yours. You let him interlock your fingers. It’s a small comfort that sends shockwaves through your body. It hasn’t even been that long since you last saw one of the witches, but you’re still somehow so desperately touch-starved that just the slight touch has tears springing to your eyes. “Oh, my baby, sweet angel, what’s wrong?”

Yunho pushes forward until he’s all but in your lap at this point, hand tugging the mug free from your hands, and he sets it down beside his own on the windowsill before returning his full attention to you. He tugs you into his embrace, arms folding around your body until he can loop his hands about your waist. 

“Why did you think I came, baby?” He asks once you’re fully secured in his lap. 

“I just — when I saw you — I-I don’t know. M-My mind said that it had to be – that you were here to end things or something. I don’t know, I’m just rambling, I don’t know what I’m saying or what I was thinking. I’m s-sorry, I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Y/n,” Yunho interjects, drawing a hand up from your waist to brush over your scalp. “Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control. Those thoughts are not your fault. Did you want to have them?”

“N-No, of course not, why would I ever want that?” You mumble against Yunho’s shoulder. He hums into your hair, lips pressing a soft kiss to the same spot, then he lifts his chin a bit to rest it atop your head. 

“Then it isn’t something you need to apologize for, baby. Not now, not ever.” You cling tighter to Yunho’s body out of sheer instinct, and he picks up on your grip in less than a second. “Our minds… regardless of how strong and resilient we are, they can be cruel. They can lie to us, tell us awful and heartbreaking things, lead us to believe the impossible with ease. Sometimes it is easier to cave in and listen to those demons rather than reason, but that doesn’t mean you are weak. The strongest person in the universe can be broken by his own mind because that is all part of human nature.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff out as a few tears begin to soak through Yunho’s tunic. “You aren’t human.” Yunho laughs a bit at your quip, not at all offended by it. Perhaps it’s a bit childish for you to pull that card, but Wooyoung pulls it out every time the pair have a disagreement without fail, so what’s the harm in you using it just this once? 

“Perhaps not, but I still understand emotions and thoughts better than any human could. And having lived for so long, I think—”

“You don’t need to pull the age card,” you whine.

“If you’re going to act like Wooyoung, then I’ll treat you just like him too.”

Admittedly, your mind is still elsewhere and you aren’t fully engaged in the conversation now, head propped on Yunho’s shoulder in such a way so that you can stare out the window and watch the rainfall again. He doesn’t comment on your silence and merely eases the both of you back until he’s leaning against the wall with you neatly draped over his larger form.

“Do you love me?” You ask after some time passes. It catches Yunho a bit off-guard, and his breath hitches sharply, hand pausing in its rhythmic drags over the small of your back.

“Always and forever, baby,” he says once he recovers a bit. He pauses, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say next. “We all love you. We would never lead you on or toy with your feelings. You are more than enough, but never too much. While it’s easy to lose yourself in these feelings of loneliness, we would never blame you for feeling them.”

“Isn’t it hard on you too though?” You ask, balling your fist around the material of his shirt. 

“It’s hard for all of us, darling. Seeing you in pain and hurting is never easy. There are some things we cannot fix though. We can ease the pain for a time, but certain things never go away. Sure, we can make them easier to manage and handle, we can provide methods that will help support you and help you not feel so alone, we can do everything in our power to help you. We cannot pretend to be able to fix you. You have the strength to overcome it; we support you when times are tough and help you up when you fall. Because we love you, care about you, cherish you, and want the best for you. That… that doesn’t make it easy, but it is never easy to work through these sorts of things.”

“How can you be so patient with me?”

“Why would I ever want to rush something that takes time? I don’t need to put a time limit on you, and we certainly don’t have a time limit on our relationship. Thus we are willing to wait as long as it takes even if it just means making winters easier to handle and manage.” Yunho’s hands trace patterns over your skin, slipping under the hem of your shirt to have more contact with you. The sudden chill of his fingers sends goosebumps over you. He cracks a small smile as you shiver in his grasp and tucks you closer to his body without saying anything for several minutes. 

It’s comfortable and needed right now, easing the dull and aching pain in your chest, but as Yunho said, it doesn’t completely take it away. Makes it manageable and easier to breathe. It’s enough, more than you could have asked for, and what you were wanting so desperately. It was just too hard to admit it and voice it to them.

“I did talk with Hongjoong before coming,” Yunho says after letting the silence drag into something warm and comfortable. You hum in acknowledgment, too content in his arms to move in the slightest. “Asked him if we could prepare the guest room.”

“Is someone coming into town?” You mumble through the sudden wave of drowsiness washing over your bones.

“No, I — we... we were hoping that you could come live with us, at least through the end of winter.”

That causes you to perk up, and you sit up, hands firmly planted on Yunho’s chest so you can better look him in the eye.

“What?”

“I know last year Wooyoung and Jongho came to live in with you, but we were thinking that perhaps it would be easier on you if you just came to live with us. It doesn’t have to be permanent if you don’t want it to be. Don’t – it isn’t meant to pressure you or anything like that. Merely an offer. Something we can do to help you. I figured having a room to yourself would give you an opportunity to have a space on your own for when you need it. The goal isn’t to eliminate all your alone time, as that is just as important as spending time with others, but a fresher perspective might help. Or even just having the option to sleep beside someone every night could help with the loneliness.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and the gentle smile pulling at Yunho’s lips only makes you want to sob from how touched you are. Yunho sees the sudden twist in your expression. His hands dart up to cradle your face, eyes falling into soft crescents as a more bashful smile overtakes his features.

“Are those happy tears or sad ones?”

“I d-don’t know how to respond,” you whisper through a small sob, and Yunho tugs you down to his chest again. He rocks your form back and forth as best he can with the awkward angle, but it provides the right amount of comfort for you to settle against him once more.

“Think about you, baby. You don’t need to answer right away. Seonghwa won’t mind extra time to clean, of course.”

“Or I could just sleep with you until it’s cleaned to his liking.” You smother the words in his clothes to keep him from hearing them, but that is to no avail because he huffs out a loud laugh at your comment nonetheless.

“Or I could stay with you here until you’re ready to make a decision.”

You twist in his grasp to look him in the eye again, searching his dark gaze for… something you aren’t wholly aware of. The light from outside — a dull and grey-toned white light — reflects off his eyes and shows off those pretty purple flecks in them. The allure of his features hits in that moment, the dastardly effect of staring too long at a fae, but Yunho blinks his eyes shut before you fall into a daze.

“Don’t let me influence your decision. It’s up to you as always. I am content to do whatever is more comfortable to you, so you—”

You cut him short with a swift peck pressed to the tip of his nose, and Yunho scrunches up his face at the suddenness of the action. His eyes flutter open once more but this time you don’t stare directly into them.

“You’re the devil,” he grumbles, but the smile on his lips betrays how flustered he really is.

“Don’t laugh too hard, I’m comfortable here.”

“Is that a smile I see?”

“I love you,” you murmur, ignoring the question for the time being. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind all too much. “Thank you. Both for being here and for helping me think clearer.”

“Always, darling. I may not be human like you, but I do love you and want the best for you. And I know the other would do the same whenever you need it.” You respond with another quick kiss to the tip of his nose, but this time Yunho catches you when you pull back and he plants a kiss on your lips before you can duck completely away. “As comfortable as this is, I am quickly losing feeling in my ass, so maybe we could resituate or go to the bed?”

“I don’t know, you make for a rather nice cushion.”

“I wonder if this is how Yeosang felt when I accidentally sat on him,” Yunho whines, slumping further back against the wall. You slap his chest with a bit of force as he complains.

“He was in his cat form and you put the full weight of your ass on him!‌ That’s completely different!”

“He survived, didn’t he?”

“Then you’ll survive having a numb ass for a little while.”

“I hate when you’re right. It’s too sexy and makes me think of inappropriate things.”

“So you’re still a man, after all, fae or not.” You land another quick jab to the side of Yunho’s head as he laughs. He doesn’t complain any longer though, even as you force him to lie completely flat on the window sill with your body still draped over his like a blanket.

“Wooyoung is downstairs, by the way.” Yunho distracts you from the sudden revelation by pressing a line of kisses down the side of your face.

“What?”

“He’s cooking dinner for us, I believe. And drawing a bath for you. We wanted to treat you.” He layers the words with more kisses, pausing over your lips to say one more thing. “Shit, wait, I think I was supposed to be in charge of the bath actually.”

“Yunho!”

“I’ll make Wooyoung do it after dinner so I can cuddle you some more.”

...

a/n: this one feels rather weak compared to the others but i was trying not to be too heavy handed with all the emotions and such in it so that’s why it might feel a little ~awkward~

[everlarkficexchange]

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

[hyperionswrath-a]

@onepartbrave​ | | unprompted birthday shenanigans

If there’s one thing Squall prides himself at being good at, it’s punctuality. Rarely does anything get the better of him or divert him off a properly scheduled path, but there are always exceptions… One example comes from participating in the celebrations of birthdays and holidays, “special” days, and the alike. Most of his time gets wasted on the what—what present, what time should he show, what should he wear. Too many whats, not enough answers!

Fortunately, the one he hunted high and low for an adequate gift was easier. Wasn’t overly flashy, didn’t care for complicated, intricate presents and shared a taste in some things with him. Although, he doesn’t want to be called ‘typical’ or ‘predictable’, so he steered clear of gunblades and their care entirely. He also avoided clothing as choosing fashionable items for others isn’t a strength he has…

He also doesn’t have the strength to stand around and drink irresponsibly with folks he doesn’t know. Ergo, instead of joining the locals in celebrating one of their own’s aging, he waits with resolute patience for an opening to catch Seifer alone. It happens, eventually, and he waves the burly blond over with a vague ‘come here’ gesture.

Occupying a booth (that he hasn’t stolen this time), the present sits at his side and hidden by the large table. Wrapped in plain green paper, he’s written ‘Seifer’ on the top with permanent marker to state who it’s for. Hands lowering to rest on the tabletop, he drums his fingers restlessly on sturdy wood as unidentified nervousness started building within. There’s a lot he could say once his former rival arrives but none seem quite fitting.

‘I’m glad you made it another year’ seems too depressive. ‘Is that grey hair I see?’ is far too jokey for his liking, recalling it from the cheeky woman obsessed with explosives from his own. ‘Happy birthday’ seems too generic and, again, he doesn’t want to appear predictable.

Therefore, when Seifer actually reports for presumed business, Squall’s entirely unprepared and blurts out a simple, “You’re old, huh?”

Silence prevails after that and he’s thankful for the cat that grabs his tongue, because what the fuck was that? Yeesh. Let the floor devour him whole now.

“…Birthday, I meant older because of that,” Squall corrects too little too late, appalled at his inability to converse properly at times. Saving himself further self-induced humiliation, he twists his upper torso and reaches over to his side. Grabbing the large(ish) gift, he places it carefully on the table and shoves it a slither closer to Seifer. “Here,” is all he offers after.

Leaning back to fold his arms loosely across his chest, he watches with muted breath to garner any reaction. He isn’t certain on the choice of present, but after learning of another hobby, how couldn’t he purchase a new fishing box and numerous accessories he hasn’t a clue on their use? At least the blond will have a variety of colors to fish with for lures now.

(Happy birthday to the rebel we all know 'n love!)

The current arrangement in his new life and the fact that Squall of all people had elected to spend a reasonable time in the small refugee town had been irritating enough, to say the least. In fact, the thing that turned out to be most confusing (and thus frustration-inducing) was them getting along just fine. Certainly, there was still a considerable amount of tiptoeing around certain topics that touched on their shared past, but if it came down to the current everyday-life, Seifer found himself pleasantly surprised at how civil they could be around each other. Which in on itself was, again, irritating him. Still, he had decided to just “go with the flow” or something, electing to be privately thankful about the brunet’s efforts not to disturb the life he had built in Rachdale other than being present in it now. Trepidations as to possible slip-ups when it came to his alias had, so far, not proven to be reasonable and although they occasionally slipped back into old habits, they yet had to end up at gunblade-point with each other, if it wasn’t for sparring. But apparently, there were more surprises to be had. When the tall blond entered the Loneman’s Harbor after his shift at the docks (Garkath had been generous enough to usher him away from his duties hald an hour earlier than usual), planning to get drunk until he couldn’t walk straight anymore, he found he was already expected - Squall being seated at a table he apparently had not stolen from any other patrons this time around. Inwardly cursing his almost life-long habit of immediately engaging the brunet, Seifer found himself steering his steps toward the very same before he could even decide against it, and not even needing the light wave of a hand beckoning gim closer, he then halted in front of the table, quirking a brow at the younger male. ”You’re old, huh?” The words tossed his way were so unexpected and so un-Squall that it gave the blond pause, making him blink, before he snorted an amused chuckle despite himself. Pulling back a chair to let himself fall down onto, he raised his chin a little in mock challenge. “You’re one to talk, princess. You’re just one year younger, eh?” Clearly the other one hadn’t intended to say what he did, shooting an explanation after the statement, causing the old man to hum. There was something new. Well, not new, but certainly unexpected. And here he thought he could tell and predict Squall’s every move and thought. Seemed like he had some catching up to do, as he was clearly out of practise. “I’m surprised you bothered to remember,” he set to speak, but broke off when one of the dock workers came over to congratulate him as well, placing a beer in front of Seifer and exchanging a couple of friendly words before the two of them were left alone again. And the surprises kept on coming - not only had Squall remembered his birthday, he even brought a present. Emerald eyes land on the package and the name written atop, causing the ex-knight to stiffen briefly before he reached over to pull the gift closer by placing a hand squarely atop the letters. Still, there was no anger or somesuch to be found on his features, but a slight tug to the corners of his mouth. It felt strangely nice to have the secret of his true identity between them, even though he would rather bite off his own tongue than admit as much. Not one for carefully unwrapping things, the green wrappings are removed with swift motions, tearing it where it would, to reveal what was hidden inside - a strangely thoughtful set of items meant to help him with the one hobby Squall certainly never had expected the usually loud and obnoxious blond to pick up - fishing. “Well fuck me walking - you really went out of your way with this, huh?” Glancing back up after sifting (more carefully now) through the things inside the box, mirth clearly dancing in his eyes as the one sitting opposite of him seemed to eagerly (by Squall’s standards, anyways) await his reaction. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

[1littleshippergirl1]

Something Odd

There was something odd about her neighbors.

Gladys Barlowe prided herself on knowing just about everything that went on within the bounds of the neighborhood. Why, Mrs. Keperna, who lived just down the road, was getting up there in age and yet none of her children made much of an effort to visit. But those girls had been a bad sort; they'd gotten into much trouble in their youth. She'd told Ingrid it was a bad idea to let them go out to that dancing club. It was bound to corrupt them and it did, rest assured.

Oh, and the Irmagards next door were having marriage troubles. Yes, indeed, it was quite a shocking revolution. She'd overheard shouting going on between them and glass shattering. Why, she had jumped a mile in the air when that happened! It was a toss up whether or not they would stay together or file for divorce. Privately, she'd said to the other ladies of the neighborhood came for a visit to sip on tea and enjoy some freshly baked biscuits, if it were her and her husband, they would never have been so inconsiderate to everyone else and aired their dirty laundry for all to hear. Had they no decency?

Her husband, Mervin, was less enthusiastic whenever she relayed anything she'd found out to him. Yes, Dear, he'd say. Or, mhm. Or, that's nice. She'd huff in frustration whenever that happened. So caught up in the sports section newspaper or television, he was! He had the nerve of wagging his finger at her once, insinuating her to be a gossip fiend. She was hardly such; they'd lived in the neighborhood ever since they'd gotten married, watched as people passed on, moved on and new faces appeared. They were one of the longest remaining home owners there. She had a right to know who was living nearby. Besides, what was the harm?

But, back to her neighbors.

She couldn't put her finger on it on what made them stand out to her. They didn't look that different than any of the other families that were around. It started out as a feeling, one she couldn't shove to the side and forget about, no matter how many times Marvin told her she was being paranoid. She wasn't. This was real, that feeling. She just knew it. She only had to prove it.

So, she did the reasonable thing and began to subtly watch them.

It was the house that was directly across the street from her, the one with the rather unflattering paint job and the red-headed man with his two daughters. They'd been there for about thirteen years now, back when it was originally just the man, his wife and only one of their children. She wondered whatever happened to that wife of his-Andria? Alana? Audrey, perhaps. Oh, yes, that must have been it. Gladys distinctly remembered a woman with blonde hair living in the house at one point and then she just disappeared! Their marriage must have soured. Poor thing. They were quite young, by the looks of it

(Marvin had told her it was none of her business when she'd planned on bringing over a casserole, with the intention of asking about it).

That woman, Audrey, was a little more cold then her husband was and the way she dressed was just plain awful. Those colors and her complexion-just what had she been thinking? Well, Gladys wasn't completely up to date on fashion these days either but still. Even she knew there were just certain things you kept in the back of your closet after turning thirty. She wasn't judging, of course.

Her husband, on the other hand, was much more friendly. Always smiling and waving to her when they happened to be outside at the same time. That wasn't an issue. She and the ladies from her book club agreed he was such a nice man. There were just occasions where she saw strange things; like that one time when she witnessed him throwing a cape over his shoulders when it snowed and a pointy hat, like a witch would wear.

It threw her for a bit of a loop, it did, at first. He might have been into that fad all the teenagers and young adults were into, where they dressed up as fictional people and used the convention center for all of them to get together. What a strange thing to do with one's time. Did he go to those events held at the local convention center, too? Oh, they were outrageously expensive, according to the flyers she'd seen posted on a bulletin board at the grocer's. Not to mention, he was raising two growing girls, who had needs that should've come before a silly hobby.

And speaking of his girls..

They were quite pretty. One of them, the oldest she reckoned, had taken right after her father. She was his spitting image, right down to the dreary clothes and atrocious looking glasses. The other was more so of her mother, appearance wise. She, too, wore glasses that were slightly big on her face and dressed without any fashion sense.

Like she said, they were pretty, but they could've looked magnificent if she just had a few minutes with them.

Those two weren't around very often, peculiarly enough. She saw them in the summertime and on occasion, if she looked out her window and if the curtains were open, they were home for Christmas but not any other time. That began shortly after they'd turned eleven. It started out as the oldest leaving and the younger one was still there but then it was both of them!

Just where did they go? Well, they weren't attending the local secondary school, that was for sure She'd casually asked Mrs. Thorp, who had a son going there, if she'd seen them around but they weren't there. That was odd. Unless they didn't go there because they were going to some exclusive school for gifted children. That must be it, wasn't it? What other explanation could there be? Truthfully, she never would've guessed those two would be prodigies. They never struck out to her like that. Weren't prodigies supposed to be all quiet and depressed? Those girls were rather lively from what she'd seen of them. Of course, they might just be an exception.

A thought crossed her mind and she wondered what the red-headed man did for a living. She hardly ever saw him leave the house. He didn't even have a car, for crying out loud! How did he get anywhere? Did he wake up in the early hours of the morning to walk back and forth to work? He couldn't have been poor; these houses cost a pretty penny. The few times she did see him, he wore casual, comfy clothes that gave no clue to his occupation, whatever that may be.

What if he was in some sort of governmental work that was highly confidential? Or perhaps he and his daughters were in the witness protection program! That made a great amount of sense. Why hadn't she considered that before? It might provide an explanation as to where that Audrey woman had gone. Oh, what if she'd been killed? Had she and the red-headed man gotten caught up in gang activity prior to the birth of their daughters and one of those members had found her and finished her off? Oh, the man must have been devastated! And now he was left to raise his girls on his own. What a terrible thing.

Didn't he have any family help? She was sure he did. She'd seen some red-headed folks in his living room once-she'd been outside watering her garden when a man standing in front of the window caught her attention. He was younger than the man who lived there by a few years and oh it was just awful, he was missing an ear! Her hand had flown up to her mouth, the hose dropping to the ground. What on earth had happened to him? A work related accident? An animal attack?

There were a couple non red-heads that came over to the house as well. A man with unkempt black hair had come around. He had the strangest looking scar, she'd noticed with curiosity as he stepped out of an old, beat up car. And then there were two separate women as well on occasion. One with hair that reminded Gladys of a rat's nest while the rest of her seemed well put together. The other had such nice hair. A cross between silver and blonde. It must have been from a box. It certainly didn't look natural. She'd assumed one of those women had to have been involved with the man. Why else would they have come to him? She dearly hoped he wasn't seeing them both at the same time. He wasn't that kind of man, was he? And to do that with children around. Very disgraceful if he was.

Gladys sat at the kitchen table of her home, sipping delicately on a cup of tea with slightly pursed lips. In all her years of knowing of the man, she had not yet once had a proper conversation with him. She didn't even know his name. And her curiosity was getting the better of her; she had several questions needing to be answered that couldn't be done by a simple, quick chat. No, she would need a reasonable reason to go over there.

She supposed she could bring over a late housewarming present. A batch of cookies, perhaps. Yes, that sounded splendid. The children would enjoy them and she could get the man to talk. Surely he wouldn't be so rude as to merely take the cookies and push her out of the house?

"How do you think this looks?" She asked her husband, presenting him with the china that contained the cookies. She'd put a red bow on top for decoration.

Mervin was doing a crossword puzzle. His eyes barely even lifted up. "It looks nice, dear."

"Oh," she scowled, "you didn't even see it!"

He did look up this time, unimpressed. "It looks the same as any other time-what's with the bow? Did you take it out of the Christmas container?"

"So what if I did?" She straightened herself up. "I want it to look nice."

"For who, exactly?"

"Our neighbors," she said. "The ones across the street. You know, the red-headed man and his daughters."

"Gladys," Mervin said warningly. "You leave those people alone."

She shot him a look, miffed. "I'm bringing them cookies."

"You're being nosy is what you're doing," he pointed a finger at her accusingly. "I know what you're up to."

She made a noise from her throat. "I'm not up to anything!"

"Oh, yes you are," he got up out of his chair. "You're going to go over there and use the cookies to get information. I'm telling you, Gladys, leave the man alone."

"You're not the least bit curious about him?" She said, taking a quick glance in the direction of the window. "I've never seen him speak to anyone in all the years he's lived over there."

"No," he said flatly. "If he wanted to speak to us, he would have by now. He doesn't need you going over there to bother him. You remember what happened with the Kremps, don't you? You remember being tossed out of the house and Mrs. Kremp threatening to hit you with that pan of hers?"

Gladys adjusted her dress primly. She vaguely recalled it. But it hadn't been her fault. The woman had simply overreacted to an innocent question. How was she supposed to have known that the ugly vase on the mantel contained the ashes of her father?

Mervin folded his arms across his chest, sighing heavily. "Don't go causing any more trouble."

"I'm doing no such thing," she was offended he thought so little of her. "I'm just going to ask a few questions."

"Gladys-"

"Don't you ever wonder what happened to that wife of his?" She cut him off.

"No. But they likely got divorced, if anything."

"Not divorced. Murdered," she revealed.

His eyes widened in surprise. It was about time he finally reacted, She thought with satisfaction "She was murdered?" he said in disbelief.

"Well," she shifted and his expression turned into a glare, "I can't say for sure that's what happened, but I have reason to believe the man and his daughters are in the witness protection program."

He inhaled, shutting his eyes as if praying that he was given more strength. "What?"

"Now just listen," she advised. "No one really knows much about them, do they? They don't talk to people and we don't even know his name. His wife was around and suddenly she disappeared! Now, I think they must have been involved in some illegal gang activity and one of those gang members must have come back to finish her off!"

"Do you know how mad you sound right now?" Mervin snapped.

"I'm not mad, I'm serious."

"And that's what scares me," Mervin muttered. Louder, he said, "I don't want you going over there, do you hear me? You're not going to say a word of that nonsense to him!"

"It's not nonsense-"

"Oh, you're right. It's worse," he scowled. "When is this all going to stop, hmm? When am I going to get peace?"

She harrumphed. "You're not even listening to me!"

"I'm the one not listening? You're the one not listening to me! I'm trying to save you from getting your lights knocked out. I'm warning you, Gladys. Don't do it." He gave her one last look. "Now I'm going back to my puzzle and I'm keeping an eye on that door!"

"Yes, dear," she said pleasantly. She stayed put like he asked, until he went to the bathroom that is. Then she quickly grabbed the cookies and bounded out the door and across the road. When she came to a stop on his front porch, she smoothed down her hair and dress.

Hmm, she noticed his door was ajar. Did he know? Perhaps not. Well, there was no harm in going in a bit. "Hello?" She said cheerfully. "Is anyone home?"

No one responded but someone was there. She heard noises coming from inside. There were people talking. Three in fact. The man and his daughters, she realized she had never heard their voices before.

"Can I show you, please?"

"I said no, Molly. You know the rules."

"It'll be quick! And no one'll know. I won't tell anyone."

Tell anyone what? She frowned.

"And what if someone sees?"

"I told you he'd say no."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Girls, stop arguing."

"Please, Dad? Please!"

"I already told you no. Especially with the windows open. What if someone saw you? I'm in no mood to deal with it today. The department has enough reports already."

What department? What reports? What did he not want to deal with? She stuck her ear in as far as she could.

"Don't worry, if someone sees, we'll just call Uncle Harry. He can take care of them."

She gulped. Take care of them? Surely she didn't...she didn't mean that kind of take care of. She couldn't have. No. That was preposterous.

Oh, my. What if...what if the man was still involved in the gang? What if they were doing illegal activity in the house? Were the girls involved too? Was that what she wanted to show him and he was afraid of getting caught?

There was a pause.

"Quickly. And don't think you'll be doing this all the time."

She decided on going in. She had to see what was going on. For the good of the neighborhood, of course. She had to know. Inhaling, she braced herself and burst into the home and came to a halt in front of the kitchen.

Just as a textbook magically turned into a chicken. And the girl! She...she was holding a stick-

The man and his daughters froze. Gladys stammered, pointing a shaky finger at them.

"You...that..."

She fell flat on her back in a faint.

/

Molly stood over her body, peering down at it through her glasses. "Is she dead?"

Percy rubbed at his face tiredly. "No, honey. She's just fainted."

"That's good," Lucy said from where she sat on the countertop. "What was she doing here anyway?"

"I have no idea," he shook his head.

Molly was still peering down at her. "Dad, can I take a picture? I've never seen a muggle faint before."

"No, Molly."

Percy sighed and began to write a letter to the Accidental Muggle Reverse Squad.

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-11 (Bruises)

TWs: Gore, brief mention of emeto, creepy and unstable whumper

Morning didn’t come for a long time. Elora’s body clung to sleep as it fought desperately to even begin to heal the severe wounds that had been inflicted the day prior. Merely surviving was beginning to become much harder of a task then she’d ever hoped it would be; waiting around for someone to save her wasn’t quite working out, and neither was saving herself. She was having to fight tooth and nail just to live, which was both exhausting and incredibly depressing.

She finally opened her eyes as she felt a hand roughly shaking her shoulder, jerking her body around until she begrudgingly awoke. She pushed stray hairs away from her face and tried to roll over, but the man’s voice was booming with its volume and closeness to her ear.

“Elora. Get up. It’s almost two o’clock.”

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, that if he was going to torture her, she had every right to sleep however much she wanted to, but she knew it was irresponsible to be causing any trouble in the state she was in. Her body had withstood so much abuse in the days she’d been there already, she feared that without time to heal, anything else major could easily tip her over the edge of life and death, make her pass out and not wake back up.

And hell if she was ready to die.

“I’m awake,” she said in a dull, monotone voice, her eyes still adjusting to the light streaming into the room through the opened blinds. She sat herself up, slowly, cringing at the pain of her ankle dragging along the sheets.

“Good,” she heard him mutter, and she resisted the urge to scowl at him. The last thing she cared about was his approval, and yet here she was, walking on eggshells to avoid setting him off. What a mess she’d gotten herself into.

“I’m not going to do anything today,” he told her. For some odd reason, it wasn’t very reassuring. “I’m not stupid. I’m not trying to kill you.”

Her lips moved much faster than her mind. “Gee, thanks.”

He shot her a glare. It made her skin crawl, just the pure intensity in his eyes.

“Watch it.”

She did. She didn’t want to, but something about his tone and expression made her deeply uncomfortable to the point that she feared doing anything but precisely what he wanted.

“You wanna take a shower? You need it,” he said plainly. God, he couldn’t even extend a kind gesture without being a douche about it. Elora wanted to spit back that she wondered why she needed a shower. Maybe it was the layers of dried blood coating her skin, or the dirt from being mercilessly dragged along the ground the night of her kidnapping. She kept her words to herself, though, responding only with a nod.

She could already imagine it, the warm water running down her body, washing away the blood and the sweat and the dirt and the fear she was certain he could smell. How she craved it, the simple pleasure of being clean-something she’d already lost.

“Okay. Up we go, then.” The man lifted her up from the bed, an arm tucked beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She hated every minute of being so close to him. His breath smelled like cigarettes and his shirt was scratchy. Every bit of her body screamed at her to get out of his grip, but she was stuck, without another choice in the matter. A bitter horror fell upon her at the realization that this was her new reality whenever she had to move around the apartment. It wasn’t like she could get up and walk around. The persistent throbbing in her ankle was a painful reminder of that.

At the very least, the walk was short. He just carried her into the master bathroom and set her down in the tub. It was slightly roomier than the one she was usually kept in, but clearly much more used. A couple bottles of mens’ 3-and-1 wash lined the ledges and the floor was damp.

“Might be weird not standing up, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Elora nodded, but the man just stood there, leaving the air stale with the silence in the room. She looked up at him for a moment, trying to gauge what he was doing, what he was thinking. She hoped he’d leave. While she knew he probably had a difficult time trusting her alone after the mishap yesterday, privacy was still a much-appreciated commodity. He stared at the wall for a second, not looking her in the eyes, before muttering about grabbing something and walking out. Elora froze, fearing he was going to bring back some awful instrument of torture, but instead, he merely returned with a pile of items in his arms. An old, worn towel and washcloth made the base, with a haphazardly-folded set of clothes atop it, and faded, half-used bottles of drugstore shampoo, conditioner, and body wash over that.

He set the stack down next to her, on the floor by the tub. “Yell when you’re done,” he told her. And that was it. He left.

There was no catch, no earning her prize or cruel tricks. He just left her alone to shower. It was like he felt bad. He should feel bad. But she shook the thought of vengeance from her mind, deciding to just focus on the mercy she’d been shown. She knew she should savor it while she had it, as she doubted it would last long.

Awkwardly twisting her body to avoid using her broken hand, she grabbed the bottles and set them on the ledge of the bathtub, then carefully removed her clothes, grimacing as she had to stretch the cuts lining her arms and drag fabric along her broken ankle. Once she finished, she finally turned on the shower, tensing as cold water rained upon her, but practically melting once it ran warm. It was soothing, though it did slightly sting the wounds it hit. Still, the benefits far outweighed the harm and she shut her eyes to fully take in the comfort, wishing she could stay right in this moment until she was found. Enveloped by the warmth, the man only a passing thought in her mind.

She began with the shampoo, taking her time to work it into her scalp, washing away the dirt, blood, and oil that had built up over the last few days. It felt so nice to be clean, to be free of the filth coating her body. She savored every moment as she washed and conditioned her hair, then took painstaking attention and care as she scrubbed her body with the washcloth, carefully avoiding or only gently dabbing at the wounds littering her body. And even when she had long been done, she remained on the floor of the tub, letting the hot water soothe her aching body as she stared ahead at the wall. She feared that taking too long, though, would make the man suspicious-or worse, angry. So, despite not wanting to and not having a clue when she’d be given this privilege again, she turned off the water and began to dry off with the towel. She didn’t want to get the clothes she’d been given all wet, so she awkwardly and rather maneuvered herself up to sit on the side of the tub. She quickly found that getting dressed was just as much of a struggle as getting undressed-especially as her skin was still damp. Pulling on the plain undershirt and blue sweatpants earned quite a few hisses of pain, and she was more than relieved when the task was over.

There was a sort of longing ache in her heart at the fact that the clothes weren’t hers. It was just another thing that had been stripped from her, another bit taken away. At the very least, though, they were clean. It didn’t seem like they’d been washed, just taken straight from a cheap bulk package. That was probably what they were. Elora didn’t mind, though. At the very least, they were comfortable, and clean. Both fit her relatively well, too, though the legs of the pants were short on her.

She was about to mournfully call for the man as she’d been instructed to do when she looked over herself, just one last time, and found her staring down at the massive bruises covering her fingers and ankle. She’d been preoccupied with getting clean earlier, so her eyes had just skimmed over them, but now that she took the time to really look, she was horrified. They were so much clearer now that the blood was washed away, looking almost cartoonish as she stared in disbelief. Deep shades of blue and purple wrapped her entire ankle joint as it stuck painfully out to the right. She knew that she should set it, but she didn’t have the slightest clue how, and it was far too severe to heal magically. All she could do was look on in shock at how misshapen it looked, how it almost seemed like a watercolor painting, colors coating and speckling the skin. Her fingers, too, were a horrific sight, curled in on themselves, swollen and multicolored. She couldn’t look away from her mangled hand and foot, feeling sick at how mortifyingly intense they were. She wanted to vomit at the mere sight of them, at the thought of the logistics. How many surgeries would it take to fix this when she got out?

If she got out.

Tears slipped down her cheeks and she abandoned the thought of calling for the man at all, just gawking at her injuries, letting the severity seep in, and bawling. Time slipped by quickly and soon she’d been in the bathroom for almost an hour, which prompted the man to come in and check on her. He knocked on the door and called her name, and she startled, her shoulders trembling. She didn’t respond, just sat there until he burst in, swung the door open himself. Their eyes locked and he saw the redness around her eyes, the puffiness of her cheeks. His brow furrowed for a moment. He hadn’t done anything wrong to her, what was her deal? But his gaze followed hers back to her broken limbs, and he gave a knowing sigh.

An awful guilt crept up in him and his expression was stone cold.

“I’m not a bad person, Elora.” His voice was firm, but thick, with a sense of sadness to it. Elora looked up at him from her spot perched on the side of the tub, shocked by his sudden entrance. Her eyes were still teary, threatening to spill more at any moment.

“I’m not.”

The girl still didn’t say a word and Clyde felt his guilt start to turn to anger. “Stop looking at me like that. Like a-like a sad fucking puppy.”

Elora’s bottom lip shook. She sensed it, his rage. She knew that, no matter what she did now, things weren’t going to end well for her. They never did, when he got mad like this.

“I’m not t-trying to-”

“Shut up,” he shouted, and her mouth suddenly closed, her eyes still wide as they stared up at him.

“I’m not a bad person,” he affirmed. “I did what I had to. You-you never fucking listen.”

Elora had no clue what to say, what to do, so she merely nodded in agreement. Sure. Whatever he wanted to believe. Whatever he needed to hear to not hurt her even more when she was already-when she couldn’t handle any more.

The man advanced towards her and she nearly screamed in pure terror. She wanted to back away but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. He bent over and gripped her chin and she inhaled sharply, eyes watery.

“Say it,” he seethed. “Say it. I’m not a bad person.”

She was forced to look in his eyes, their faces just inches apart as he jerked her chin up. Her voice shook as she spoke. “You’re-you’re not a b-b-bad person.” A sharp inhale ended her sentence, petrified that it wasn’t right. That it wouldn’t be enough.”

He released her chin and she felt relief flood her for all but a second before he shoved her off of the ledge of the tub. She landed flat on her back on the tile floor, the air knocked out of her lungs by the force of the fall. She wheezed and tried to sit up, but he was upon her in a second, kneeling on her chest with his hands around her throat to restrict her breathing even further.

“Say it like you mean it,” he insisted. There was nothing but anger in his eyes.

Gasping and sputtering, Elora wheezed, “You’re not a bad person!” Her tone was desperate. She felt like she was dying. But that was all the man needed to hear. He eased off of her and stood, brushed himself off, then simply picked her up from the ground and slung her over a shoulder, a far cry from the gentle way he’d carried her to the bathroom in the first place.

He was grinning. Relief washed over him. A cool, calm feeling.

“You’re right, Elora. I’m not. I’m not a bad person.”

tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out

[splintergirl13]

So here is a little head cannon I thought of while reading your fan fic.

What if herobrine never had/celebrated his birthday so he forgot when it was, so Steve and Alex pick a day and celebrate his birthday with him. (P.s. sorry I have horrific grammer)

I liked this idea so much I made a little drabble under the read more :3 I hope it is worthy of such an great headcanon! Thank you so much for the ask! It fills me with joy to hear that people are thinking about my story lol <3. And don't worry. Grammar is hard and doesn't make any sense. I feel your pain

Before we dive in: this takes place pretty earlier into Steve and Brine becoming friends. So they are just starting to pine. Not in a relationship yet. Alex and Brine are still a little wary of each other but have come to accept that they are stuck with each other.

I'd say this is rated teen for just some small strong language lol

-

The Birthday Brine

-

It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Too nice to spend down in the mines. But a little too warm to do any strenuous activities.

So Alex and Steve decided to go on down to the small river they frequented on days like today. A secluded area where the water pooled deep enough to swim. And, of course, Herobrine tagged along. As was becoming more of the norm these days.

Steve was lying comfortably in the shade of a few trees on the bank of the river. Legs in the water; small waves lapped up to his knees as the water went by. Arms crossed behind his head. His shirt was off and laid over his eyes, shutting out any of the light that filtered through the leaves. Not really dozing off, but close to it.

Herobrine was similarly relaxing. He lay on his belly; balanced precariously on a nearby tree that had fallen over the river. Looking like a big cat lounging about in the direct sun. Soaking up the rays. One hand was draped down to the side, touching the cool water.

Alex was the only one fully in the river. She was a little upstream, floating on her back. She had taken off her pants, leaving them on the shore, and let her long green shirt cover her lower half. Every once in a while she would swim back to her original place as the current took her down towards Herobrine.

The trio had been chatting absentmindedly. Talking about anything, really. Steve ranted humorously about his pickaxe making a squeaking sound. Alex discussed way too many of the current happenings in town. Even Herobrine brought up that a dragonfly had landed on his shoulder. Which had the trio all staring for a bit before it flew off and they went back to their current positions.

It wasn't until a certain question came to Alex’s mind that the peace of the scene was disturbed.

"Hey Sparky." The adventurer asked. "...How old are you?"

Herobrine took a while to answer. Seeming to think through the question slowly. Finally he asked without opening his eyes. "Why?"

"Just curious." Alex shrugged, swimming a little.

The demon shifted. Now peaking over to look at Steve. It was like the miner could tell that he was being looked at because he lifted his shirt to look back questioningly.

Herobrine spoke up. "When was the last time I respawned? Four months ago?"

Steve frowned. "Yes. More like three. You fell through a roof, remember?"

"Right, right." Herobrine moved his hand up out of the water. "Terribly made and rusty old structure. Glad it forced a respawn. Tetanus is not fun even with healing powers."

"Why is this relevant?" Alex asked impatiently.

"I'm 28." Herobrine said immediately.

Alex sat up in the water. Causing a bit of a ruckus amongst some fish that had gotten close. "No you're not!"

"Yes I am." Herobrine turned his attention to her. She shuddered ever so slightly under his scrutinizing stare. "Every time I die, I respawn back to the same age at which I turned immortal."

Alex crossed her hands over her chest. "Okay, well that's only technically. I meant, like, if you count ALL the years you've been alive."

"I have no fucking clue, Alex." Herobrine rolled his head to the otherside of the tree to ignore her. Yet continued to talk. "Time loses all meaning when you're immortal. Not to mention I was trapped in the nether for most of that time. So it's even harder to tell."

"What's your best guess?" Steve asked, now curious as well.

And the head came back around. Looking at Steve. The demon wouldn't ignore the miner. He bit his lip, eyes trailing towards the water. "I dunno... maybe a few centuries... a millennia or so..."

"Old." Steve clarified. Seeing that the demon was struggling a little.

"Yeah... old." Herobrine scowled.

"So, what, do we have to, like, wait until you live a year to celebrate your birthday?" Alex giggled. "No wonder you don't remember it. It would never be your birthday based on that criteria."

Herobrine scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." Steve added, putting the shirt back over his eyes. "Come to think of it, when is your birthday, Brine?"

"You want to know the exact date I was born?" Herobrine sat up now, clearly confused. "Fuck... I don't know. I didn't even keep track of days back then. I just survived. It wasn't until I met... my brother that we talked about days. And he was able to do some weird 'code calculation' as he called it to figure out my true age. But we didn't really care about that. None of us counted in the aether. None of us wanted to count. When you have endless time you tend not to care. It's a depressing chore."

"So none of you celebrated your birthday?" Alex asked.

"Why would you celebrate your birth?" Herobrine growled. "Existence is a curse."

"That's why we have to celebrate!" Alex exclaimed. "It helps us mortals to forget about our fleeting existence."

"Yeah!" Steve enthusiastically raised a fist to the sky in agreement.

"Like the aether needed another reason to celebrate..." Herobrine grumbled, flopping back down on the tree. "The amount of bullshit dances I had to get dressed up for was astronomical."

"So you really have never had a birthday, huh?" Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"Nope." Herobrine said, popping the p and settling back on the tree. Thinking that was the end of the conversation.

But Steve and Alex had other plans.

"Bro you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You think we have enough time today?"

"Sure why not? We were already planning on going into town together."

"Then we better hurry."

"What are you two talking about?" Herobrine muttered. The siblings were getting out of the water and putting back on their clothes.

"We're going to throw you a birthday party!" Steve smiled over at him.

Herobrine almost fell off his branch.

"W-what? Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what day your birthday is, it might as well be any day. And since we are already all together and don't have any plans for the rest of the evening... why not?"

Herobrine teleported off his tree and stood next to the two. "You really don't need to-"

"Too late, it's happening." Alex smiled. Starting to walk off. Not putting on her shoes as she walked through the increasingly tall grass.

"Go wait in the nether and come back around sunset!" Steve pushed on his back excitedly. As if he could shove him through a portal that wasn't there.

"Why?"

"We are gonna surprise you!"

"Oh. Yippee. Surprise." Herobrine did not mask his unenthusiasm.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Steve said as he stopped pushing and went to go join Alex.

Herobrine was left alone and very confused as to what had just happened. He blinked up at the setting sun and winced. He wouldn't know the correct time in the nether. So he decided to go back to his tree branch and relax until the time came. He had no idea what was in store for him. But he didn't try to think too hard about it. If he didn't like it he could always teleport away.

All this talk of aether and age had his head buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He tried to will them away and think of nothing instead. Watching as the river flowed beneath him. The dragonfly landed back on his hands.

-

It was just after sunset when Herobrine was walking up to Steve's small house and knocking on the door. Steve was adamant about him knocking. As Herobrine had the tendency to just teleport into a location, unannounced. There was the sound of muffled talking as well as a wonderful smell of something cooking in the furnace.

He heard the miner walk towards the door, he recognized his footsteps easily. Much different than Alex’s.

Steve cracked open the door. "Herobrine, you have perfect timing! We are just finishing up."

Herobrine tried to move forward but Steve closed the door more. He smiled, shyly. "Er. You gotta close your eyes."

"... Why?"

Steve smiled wider. "It's all part of the process."

So Herobrine huffed and closed his eyes. Steve took him by the hand. Leading him inside. Herobrine could feel his heartbeat where they connected. The miner was excited. So Herobrine was excited.

He was led into the house and then Steve stopped and walked over to join where he could sense Alex.

"Surprise!" They both yelled.

Herobrine stood there with his eyes closed. Face oozing confusion.

"Open your eyes now, Brine." Steve whispered loudly to him.

"Oh." And he did. He blinked and took in the sight.

The inside of the house was decorated with a few colored strings on the ceiling and what seemed to be little torches everywhere else. It was very simple and yet very pretty.

"Do you like it?" Alex asked.

"We didn't have too much time to decorate so we made due with what we had." Steve said. "Probably not as fancy as your aether parties."

"No." Herobrine smiled. "But I like this better." The aether parties were always decorated with too much. This was nice and made Herobrine feel cozy.

Alex gestured to the table, patting the chair to sit down. "Since it's pretty late we figured we'd just do a birthday dinner. Steve said you would eat if we made you food."

Herobrine nodded. Glad he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. He wasn't the biggest fan of eating. Steve had been reintroducing it to him slowly. The miner was an excellent cook.

"Good!" Alex smiled. Steve sat next to Herobrine at the table. "I handled dinner and Steve handled the most important part of a birthday, the dessert!"

"It all smells nice." Herobrine commented politely. It did. He was actually excited to eat.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Preparing plates for them all. Steve and Herobrine shared a look. Both smiling, somewhat uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. It didn't last long as Alex came out with two plates, setting it down in front of them.

The meal consisted of roasted corn, slathered in butter, some sort of shredded pork on bread with some sweet sauce, and a cold potato salad. Steve instantly dug in. Probably hungry from all the work they had been doing. Herobrine waited for Alex to return with her own plate before starting to pick at the food. It wasn't long before he was eating more sloppily than Steve. Alex apologized, saying she wanted to make something more special like a smoked biscuit but Herobrine wasn't sure why she was sorry. It was all delicious. And Herobrine found himself wanting to eat the entire plate. It was the perfect meal on the warm night.

The house was filled with the delightful sounds of eating. None of them talked very much. Not needing to. Just enjoying each other’s company. And the food! They were all very invested in the food.

Once they were done, Herobrine was tempted to ask for more. But he remembered that there was still dessert to eat. He started to try to clean up his plate. But Steve stopped him immediately. "Ah, ah. No dishes when it's your birthday."

"Hmm. This birthday business keeps getting better." Herobrine smirked at him.

Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates filled with two generous slices of homemade chocolate cake.

He set them down in front of Alex and his own seats. "We have a special slice for you, Herobrine. Hold on."

Steve rushed away and walked slowly back with a similar piece of cake. But this one had a very tiny torch stuck in the middle of it. Herobrine blinked. Huh. Strange.

"It's a candle." Steve explained. "It's a tradition to have some on your cake. We only had this old one." He set the on fire cake in front of him. Herobrine enjoyed the fire flare. "Usually you have a candle for every year you've been alive."

"But that would've set the house on fire." Alex snickered.

Herobrine rolled his eyes and tried to grab his fork. But Alex stopped him. "Wait! We have to sing to you!"

"Er, no thanks." That seemed silly. He did not want to be sung to.

Steve made a face. "I don't like that part either. I think we should skip it."

"We have to! It's tradition!" Alex wrapped her elbow around Steve’s neck. "Come on, Stevie. One time!"

"Alright. Alright." He caved easily. And they began.

Herobrine sat awkwardly as the two sang a little song. Saying his name. Herobrine had never heard Steve sing. It was nice. He had a pleasant voice. He thought the man should sing more. He hummed a lot but never truly sang.

Once they were done. Alex said. "Now you make a wish and blow out the candle."

"A wish? Wish for what?"

"For anything." Steve added. "But you have to wish in your head. And don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true."

"Like a curse?"

"Yeah kinda. But it's just for fun."

The demon chewed on his lip. Seeming to think about it. He nodded eventually. "Okay. I've made my wish."

"Now blow out the candle to complete the spell." Alex joked. Steve nudged her.

Herobrine looked at the small torch on the cake and willed the fire away. It went out.

Alex and Steve stared. Alex giggled. "Guess there's more than one way to skin an ocelot."

"Why would you-" Herobrine blinked.

"It's an expression." Steve laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork to eat his piece of cake. "Ignore her and dig in while the cake is still warm."

Herobrine did, setting the small torch- candle aside and picking up his fork to eat. The cake looked moist. Fresh. And smelled absolutely delicious. His mouth was watering before he even put the treat in his mouth.

When he took a bite he almost moaned. "H-holy fuck." He quickly took another bite.

Alex giggled. "Never had a Steve-made cake have you?"

"Steve, you should stop cooking everything and just make cake from now on." Herobrine had almost finished his piece already. It was just so damn good. He couldn't stop.

"Then it wouldn't be special." Steve chuckled. Looking happy that they both seemed to be enjoying his cake.

"Can I have more?" Herobrine asked, frosting definitely smeared all over his face, unabashedly.

Steve and Alex howled at that. The demon just looked so different from how they normally saw him. It was nice. And also hilarious.

Herobeine got a second slice and sat back, looking full. The demon didn't usually eat so it was a lot all at once. Totally worth it though.

"Present time!" Alex jumped up from the table as Steve moved the dishes into the kitchen.

"Present time?" Herobrine parroted.

"You get presents on your birthday!" Alex walked over to grab two things that had been set aside on a coffee table. "From everyone who comes to the party."

Alex handed Steve something and walked back to the table to give Herobrine a rectangle that looked like a book wrapped in paper. Herobrine took it confused. "Er, thanks?" He held it in his hands.

"You gotta open it dude!" Alex said excitedly.

"Open it?"

"Yeah tear open the paper!"

"Oh." Herobrine, a demon of destruction, ironically opened the book very carefully. Not wanting to damage it.

He held the book up once it was unwrapped. It was, indeed, a book. Not too hard to guess correctly.

"It's a book of modern day phrases." Alex explained. Tapping the cover. She smirked. "I know that you have some trouble with some of our more modern hip lingo."

Herobrine lifted an eyebrow at her. He flipped to a random page. "There's more than one way to skin an ocelot? Oh. I get your 'joke' now."

"See. You're learning already." She snickered. Steve smiled too.

Herobrine looked confused. But not unappreciative. He waved his hand, tucking the book away into his inventory. "Er, thanks. I will read the rest later."

"No problem!" She giggled. She then pushed Steve forward. "Go ahead, your turn."

Steve had a paper package tied up in butcher's twine behind his back. He coughed and walked forward, handing Herobrine the parcel.

The demon took it. Knowing what to do now, he tore into the paper. Revealing what was inside.

He paused when he realized what it was after pulling all the paper off and letting it float to the ground.

"It's... your cloak." Herobrine said. Not giving away any emotion. Steve seemed to droop a little. Expecting him to be a little happier. Alex nudged the miner. They shared a look. Steve rolled his eyes. He walked closer to the demon, touching the cloak in his hands.

"I knew it would already fit you. And there wasn't enough time to get you a new one made. I just know how much you like to borrow it from me when it gets colder." Steve ran his fingers along the cloak. Pointing out some stitching on the green material. "I sewed up all the holes so it won't be as drafty. And-" He tapped the button that held the cloak together. "I replaced the old latch with a golden one I got from town today. I know you said you like to wear a little gold in the nether for piglin respect or... whatever." The miner let go of the cloak and backed up, rubbing his head awkwardly.

Herobrine stared at the green gloak. Rubbing the material in his fingers.

"If... if you don't like-"

"I love it." Herobrine almost whispered. Sounding so genuine it made Steve blush and Alex smile. "It's perfect."

"O-oh." Steve scratched his head again. "Good. I'm glad." He smiled, looking away. Desperately trying to hide his blush. He had gone bright red. And Herobrine wasn't helping.

The demon stood instantly and put the cloak around his body. He had worn it before. But it looked different now. Like it was his now. It was truly his.

Herobrine looked up at Steve. "This is... the greatest gift I've ever been given." He didn't smile but his glowing eyes said it all. He was absolutely telling the truth. "Thank you, Steven."

The miner stared back. Smiling to the side and tilting his head. Embarrassed but screaming on the inside in happiness.

Alex had to butt in. Not liking the way the two were looking at each other and getting a little protective of Steve. "Pfft. Thanks a lot there, Briney boy. Glad my gift meant nothing."

Herobrine blinked. Processing the words. And then realized. "Oh, no, sorry Alex. Thank you as well."

"Yeah whatever." Alex nudged him with her fist, walking past him. She then let out a yawn. "Well. I think I'm all birthday partied out. Mind if I crash on your couch, Stevie? It's too late to walk home."

"Sure I'll get you some blankets." Steve mimicked the yawn. His eyes looked tired. They did do a lot to put the party together for him. They deserved a rest. "Happy Birthday, Brine."

"Thank you." Herobrine nodded. "Thank you both. This was... enjoyable."

"See our traditions aren't so bad." Alex said, flopping down on the couch.

"I do believe I've judged it too early." Herobrine nodded. "You do this every year?"

"Yep. And you get to do the planning and gift giving to us when it's our birthdays. No party is exactly the same." Alex nodded. "I think planning is actually more fun than celebrating your own birthday."

"Oh. Well I look forward to that. You will have to remind me when the time comes. Time is... difficult for me."

"Of course, dude." Steve produced some blankets from the closet. Herobrine sensed it was time to make his leave. He headed for the door.

"Thank you again." He said a little awkwardly. "I will uh, see you both tomorrow."

"Sounds good!" "Bye!" The siblings said.

And with Herobrine out the door. Steve and Alex looked at each other.

"I think that went well." Steve said.

"I think you owe me money for not making a single birthday suit joke." Alex said back. He threw the blankets over her head as she giggled.

"Goodnight Alex!" He went to his bedroom, trying to hide his blush. "Put out the candles before you sleep."

"I'm just saying, Stevie! That would've been a better gift if you-"

"Goodnight Alex!!"

Herobrine stood just outside the door. He wiggled his shoulders a little. Feeling the soft weight of the cloth around his shoulders. He smiled. Feeling warm inside and out. And teleported off.

[laurenwritesfics]

Here it comes! Chapter three! 

Read the previous chapter HERE. Read the full series on AO3.

Warning(s): alcohol consumption, use of coarse language, description of car accident

CHAPTER THREE: BEFORE THE STORM

The following morning, Frank woke early to check on Mary.

He could tell she’d been crying. Her cheeks were blotchy. One arm was draped over the side of the bed, seemingly still reaching for the book splayed out on the floor. He rested against the door frame, watching her for a moment. When something was wrong, she was a light sleeper. Desperate for a distraction. It would take her a long time to finally drift off. He didn’t want to walk any closer, fearing the noise might wake her. Then –

“I know you’re there.” Mary’s voice was muffled against her pillow.

“It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t.” Her fingers twitched. “I miss Fred.”

“I know. We’ll look again later, okay? Go to sleep.”

“No.”

Frank sighed and shut the bedroom door.

In the kitchen, Frank washed up last night’s leftover plates. Of course, Roberta hadn’t meant for this to happen. He knew that for certain. Wringing his hands on the dish towel, something occurred to him. What if it was Evelyn? He bristled at the thought.

He slung the dish towel over his shoulder and strode into the hallway to pick up the phone.

“Where’s Fred?” He asked tersely.

“It’s not like you to be awake so early. You’re usually passed out from a night at the bar after messing around with those silly boats.”

“Thanks for your concern, Evelyn.”

He could feel her eyes rolling through the receiver.

“To answer your question, I don’t have a clue where he is. Frankly I think it’s offensive that the first person you’d accuse is your own mother.”

Frank scoffed. “Really?”

“Don’t do this again, Francis.” Whenever Evelyn used his full name, he knew she was pissed. “You can’t blame me for everything.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Honestly, I think it will do her the world of good to spend some time away from that damn cat.”

Now Frank was pissed. “Yeah? Well that damn cat has been more like family to her than you’ve ever been. If you care so much about Mary then why don’t you visit? She needs her grandmother.”

“You know she doesn’t like me. It wouldn’t make any difference.”

“The only reason she doesn’t like you is because she doesn’t know you.”

“She lived with me for six months, Francis.” Evelyn didn’t want to admit that Frank had a point.

“Yeah, and she was gonna run away if the court hadn’t changed the guardianship order.” He shifted his weight and threw an arm out in frustration. “Y’know what, I’m not doing this.”

He didn’t bother to say goodbye.

In the few minutes it took to call Evelyn, Mary had stealthily made her way into the kitchen where she was now attempting to climb the counter to reach the cupboards. Frank rushed over and set her down on the tiles.

“Easy there, Spider-Girl. Go sit down, I’ll make you some eggs.”

Mary shuffled reluctantly over to the kitchen table, where she sat hunched over in deep thought. When Frank slid her plate onto the table, she stabbed half-heartedly at the eggs, taking tiny nibbles. The last time she had been like this was when Diane died. She was grieving again, and it tore Frank apart knowing he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Children react differently to loss – some dwell on it and discover the depth of their emotions, others brush over it and seem to just cope because they don’t fully understand the concept – Mary was the kind of girl who could easily get deeply invested in just about anything. The highs were astronomical. The lows were frightening for her. She was so open, so emotionally vulnerable, but when sadness hit her, she completely shut down. It was as if there were two different girls under the same roof. 

Frank and Roberta were doing their best to instill a sense of hope, but Mary refused to engage. They didn’t understand, she thought. They couldn’t. As much as she trusted, believed and understood the adults in her life, sometimes they could be frustratingly rational. She knew that they had her best interests at heart, and knew there was every chance Fred would be out there somewhere, but just for once, she wished someone would cry with her. All the comfort in the world couldn’t erase the fact that her best friend was gone. A part of her was missing.

For the sake of maintaining the illusion of normalcy, she had agreed to go to school for at least one more day. If they couldn’t find Fred, then she was going to stay home. Frank didn’t want her to feel isolated. She didn’t need to be put under more stress.

As they drove to school, Mary remained mute. When he dropped her off at the gates, she finally spoke.

“You don’t have to pick me up. I’ll walk home.”

Frank opened his mouth to protest but knew it would be useless.

She slammed her door shut.

He watched her shoulders slump, her feet dragging as she made her way through the yard. It broke his heart.

On the way home, he circled the neighborhood multiple times, rolling down the window to call out for Fred. Still, nothing. He called Roberta. Nothing. 

Heading out to the docks, he threw himself into work. He rattled drawers, pored over blueprints, made several phone calls. The afternoon wore on, dissolving into empty stillness. Frank climbed aboard the Celestia – a gleaming yacht that was the pride and joy of a wealthy dentist in Coral Gables – pushed his toolbox aside and broke into the storage drawer where he’d hidden an icebox. He grabbed a beer, popped the bottle cap in the sink and headed back up onto the deck. One day he’d have his own Celestia. Or at least be rich enough to consider it. When he started freelance maintenance work, he was driven purely by passion projects and impulsive agreements with bar patrons. Upon Mary’s arrival, he became a ‘yes man’. He took on anything he could to provide for her, even if it meant working until the early hours or missing Mary’s piano recitals. It didn’t matter how exhausted, frustrated or depressed he was, he struggled through for her. 

His thoughts drifted to Diane. What she would be doing now. Mathematics was her life, but it wasn’t her passion. He remembered visiting her one Saturday afternoon, confronted with chaos. Diane flung the door open and greeted him, covered in paint. Mary ran towards him, pressing tiny red hand-prints onto his freshly-laundered shirt. He thought of her first gallery showing. The way she glowed with pride. Mary’s enthusiasm as she held Diane’s hand and introduced them both to as many people as she could. Even those she already knew. It is, of course, impossible to travel back in time and change the course of your personal history. But Frank couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if it was possible. He certainly wouldn’t be day drinking on a yacht feeling like a complete and utter failure. Would Diane think he was? Probably not. They stood by each other unfalteringly. When Mary was old enough to add her first scribbles to a birthday card, she signed it (or rather, Diane did - Mary drew a scraggly flower and a heart) ‘to the world’s best uncle’. Diane embraced him and told him yes, he really was.

He believed it then. Things were different now.

 Bleary-eyed, Frank glanced at his watch. Shit. He needed to go home.

He fumbled for his keys and dropped down onto the dock. The sedan rattled to life. If Mary was ever locked out of the house, she would usually walk to Roberta’s for a spare key. If Roberta wasn’t home, she would wait by the front door, kicking up dirt. Now, though, all Frank could picture was Mary walking alone, too hell-bent on sleuthing to realize that she was lost. He swung out of the shipyard and drove down to Mary’s school. She wasn’t waiting in the parking lot. He headed to the reception desk. The secretary had seen her leave with the rest of her class. Frank said a quick ‘thank you’ and ran back to the car. A pang of tipsy dizziness hit him, so he sat in the car for a few minutes, pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked rapidly in a bid to straighten himself out.

He took the long way home. The streets were empty. He pulled into the driveway, got out and peered through the window. The TV was switched off. There were no books strewn across the floor or on the coffee table. He opened the door and called for her. No response. He checked her room. Empty. Frank was starting to panic.

Before he set off again, he cracked open another beer. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did it anyway. The stress – or rather, the self-inflicted guilt - was just too much to handle sober. Then, he called Roberta. “Roberta, it’s Frank. Have you seen Mary?”

“I’m sorry honey, I haven’t. She hasn’t come by.”

“Shit. Where the hell is she? This isn’t like her.”

“Maybe she’s hanging out with a friend? Study group?”

“She doesn’t have any friends.” It sounded harsh, but it was true. “If she’s gone out there on her own looking for Fred…if something’s happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Don’t talk like that, Frank. I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll come home.”

“I’m gonna go drive around the neighborhood. If she comes by the house, call me.”

“Of course I will.”

“Thanks, Roberta. I owe you one.”

Without missing a beat, Roberta replied. “No charge.”

It occurred to him then that there was one place he hadn’t looked – the beach.

Frank stumbled into the car and shakily turned the key.

Even through his beer-tinted haze, he couldn’t see her anywhere. Mary’s voice repeated in his head as he drove.

“Slow down! Mom said never go to bed or drive angry.”

He wasn’t angry. He was anxious.

Turning down the winding lane that would eventually lead him to the beach, Frank felt a surge of adrenaline rip through his entire body. He gradually picked up speed. She was there. She had to be.

He was so caught up in his own trail of thought that he didn’t realize the car had started to sway. It was getting later. Darker.

It was starting to rain. The road was getting slicker by the second.

The blinding beam of oncoming headlights caught him off-guard.

He swerved.

The crunch of metal against metal echoed down the quiet lane.

Now he was sober.

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