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alienaiver · 3 years ago

Text

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

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Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

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Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

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It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #hermann's pov in that one bit was just 'mouth............'

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haworthiaace · 3 years ago

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Magic misfits! Did I update the masterpost specifically because of this fic? yes absolutely. A busy day for Scar, featuring TFC and some good ol’ Scar appreciation :]

The start of a new season was always interesting.

While TFC didn’t enjoy having to start from scratch every year or so; having gotten used to the comforts of late season riches, he did love the sheer amount of interaction that came with a new season. TFC was content to hear gossip about the others’ shenanigans while he stuck to what he was best at: mining. Some of the others called it cheating to use his earthbending down in the tunnels, but he called it cheating to be able to shapeshift, or use magic crystals, or any of the other crazy things the other hermits could do, so it evened out.

When he wasn’t down in his mine, TFC watched as all the other hermits scrambled to make the most impressive buildings and contraptions in as little time as possible. Many of his servermates placed more importance on finishing their creations than actually gathering necessities such as tools and armour.

As if to prove this observation, the Boatem village appeared on the other side of the nether portal, populated with structures that were much too large considering it had only been three weeks since they arrived in this world. There was also a… tree? At least that’s what it looked like; a thin oak tree stretching up past the clouds and out of view. Looks like Mumbo and Grian were up to no good already.

“TFC! Up here!” Scar’s voice came from somewhere above TFC’s head, and he looked up to see the wizard (although he no longer wore his robe and hat) standing on a balcony extending from a truly massive wagon, one hand on the railing and the other extended above his head, waving enthusiastically at TFC.

He climbed the ladder up the side of the wagon, entering a sparse storage room. Knowing Scar, he either hadn’t bothered to move in yet or lost all of his things in a cave somewhere. Despite his powerful crystal magic, Scar still managed to die more than any other hermit, so the second option was more likely.

“Well hello there! Welcome to my humble abode, please take a seat.” Scar led TFC to a balcony, where he gestured towards a table and two folding chairs. Scar sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in his lap. “So, what brings you to our little village today?”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the question, confusion evident in his voice. “Because you invited me? We were supposed to have tea today.”

Scar jolted in his seat, then proceeded to scramble out of said seat. “I’ll be right back! I have to go… feed Jellie!” This was quite obviously a lie seeing as Jellie hadn’t returned from her between seasons interdimensional travels yet. TFC’s laughter chased Scar into the wagon, where he frantically prepared the tea that he was totally planning on making because he definitely remembered his plans for the day.

After about five minutes of mildly concerning crashing sounds, Scar returned with two steaming mugs of tea (decorated with cat faces, of course) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies - Stress’ recipe if TFC wasn’t mistaken. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the tea and cookies.

“So, how are you holding up this season, Scar?” TFC took a sip of green tea, looking out at the horizon.

“Oh you know, the usual. I don’t have my village anymore, but the magical misfits still come seeking my help.” He brought a cookie to his mouth and bit off half of it. “Not that I mind helping people!” He swallowed his mouthful before continuing. “XB was here last week convinced that he left his coat in season seven, but turns out it just ended up in one of Joe’s boxes.” He chuckled to himself, wiping crumbs off of his jacket as TFC stared at the distant ocean, lost in thought.

TFC broke the silence that had fallen. “You’re a good man, y’know that?” The wizard in question looked at TFC in surprise. He was used to ‘thank you’s, but the personal compliment caught him off guard. “You’ve created a safe space for folks from all sorts of places, and you’ve saved quite a few of them from bad people.”

Scar looked down, smiling at his cup of tea. He spoke quietly, a departure from his usual boisterousness. “Thanks TFC, that means a lot.”

Scar was in the middle of catching TFC up on what he missed from day one when something red and very fast crashed into the balcony. The something in question turned out to be Grian, shimmering wings protruding from his back. Something must have been wrong, since winged hermits tended to refrain from flying early in the season, in the name of fairness.

“Scar we need your- Oh heeey, I didn’t know you had company over!” He leaned on the railing, his urgency replaced with a forced cheerfulness as he (quite obviously) pretended nothing was wrong. What was probably supposed to be an easygoing smile stretched too wide, and his voice was more high pitched than usual. “How’s it goin’?”

Scar, completely oblivious, responded excitedly. “Oh, I was just telling TFC here about our adventure in the geode with Cleo!”

Grian’s uncomfortable smile grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds great, do you think you’ll be done anytime soon?”

“Oh well, I’m not too sure. It depends on when we finish all of these cookies.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Grian’s wings started to twitch behind him, “did you make those yourself?”

Scar took a breath, preparing for a tangent when TFC cut in, showing the poor fairy some mercy. “Alright Grian, out with it. What’s wrong?” Scar stared at Grian, somehow surprised that this wasn’t a completely ordinary visit.

Grian let out a long sigh. “Thank you so much TFC.” He turned his gaze to Scar. “We need a little help with curse breaking.”

Scar set down his mug and gave Grian his full attention, preparing himself for whatever strange curse one of the fairies had set on some poor hermit. “Really? How are you two cursing people already? It hasn’t even been a month!”

Grian’s tangent was accompanied by wild hand gestures that made it difficult to follow what he was saying. “Well, Pearl came up behind Mumbo and spooked him, he shouted something about not sneaking up on him, and now whenever he turns his back on her she teleports directly in front of him.” Grian looked nervously over his shoulder in the direction of Mumbo’s van. TFC followed his gaze, and burst into laughter again.

Mumbo was standing a few feet away from his campfire, spinning in circles and doubling over in laughter as Pearl kept popping up in front of him.

Scar pushed himself up from his chair, TFC followed suit. The pair headed to the door while Grian flew back down, Scar giving TFC a sort of briefing. “Alright, let’s go figure out what exactly Mumbo did before Pearl starts feeling particularly vengeful.”

It took two hours and a lot of trial and error (with TFC giving supremely unhelpful tips), but eventually Pearl could stand behind Mumbo again. At some point Scar accidentally applied the effect to both Grian and Mumbo, and he had to beg the two not to create a space time anomaly. But it was all fixed now, and TFC was sure Pearl’s revenge would be swift and cruel.

Scar made his way back up to the balcony, and the two continued their conversation. It was a good thing Scar had enchanted his mugs, something he had done back in season seven after his drinks kept getting abandoned and going cold.

After a few hours of peace (other than both Mumbo and Grian’s bases abruptly flipping upside down while the boys were inside), the pair was interrupted again by a voice behind them.

“Howdy, Scar. Oh, and howdy to you as well, TFC!”

Neither of them had heard Joe coming, so Scar jumped about a foot in the air while TFC nearly spat out his tea. It turned out that Cleo was there as well, looking quite a bit angrier than Joe, although that wasn’t too uncommon.

“Oh my goodness, Joe you scared the life out of me!” Scar held a hand to his chest and caught his breath as Cleo got right to business.

“Sorry about that Scar,” her voice was flat, and it was safe to assume that she was not, in fact, sorry about that. “But we have an emergency. It’s completely Joe’s fault, he-”

Joe smoothly stepped in front of his companion as he cut her off, “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely my fault, old magic is a fickle thing-”

Cleo shoved Joe aside, stepping in front once again. “He revived my leg!” She raised a foot off the ground and gestured at it with both hands.

Sure enough, both TFC and Scar looked down to see that Cleo’s right leg was significantly more flesh-coloured than the left, restored to what it presumably once was.

Scar’s lingering panic was instantly replaced by an amused grin as he gestured to the leg in question. “Cleo, why don’t you just get your leg reinfected? It’s not like zombies are hard to come by.”

The pair stood still, just blinking. (Completely in sync, it was eerie)

Cleo rounded on Joe and punched at his shoulder just as he raised a hand to deflect her fist. “How did you not think of that Joe?! I thought you knew everything there was to know about-” She gestured wildly about for a moment. “Everything?!”

“Shouldn’t you be some sort of zombie expert by now? How is that my responsibility?” The argument continued as the pair went back into the wagon and down the ladder. As they walked off, presumably to go find a cave, something occurred to TFC. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell down at them.

“Cleo!” She turned around. “Don’t use Joe as bait!”

She snapped her finger like a defeated cartoon villain, as Joe turned to face her and presumably gave her grief for this evil plot.

It was only about five minutes after Cleo and Joe left (preceded by twenty minutes of arguing) that the next problem arrived, as it often did, in the form of Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango arriving on the shore of the village. TFC found this odd, seeing as how everyone was now connected by nether portals, but he assumed there would be an explanation shortly, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Impulse shouted up from the ground, the three of them clustered near the front of the wagon. “TFC, we need your help!” Well that was a surprise, not many people asked for his assistance other than Scar. “We made an oopsie and Cleo said we could find you here!”

As every hermit knew, ‘oopsie’ was a versatile word with these three. It could mean anything between making a minor mistake in a build to banishing Impulse for the fifth time. “What happened this time?” TFC stood up and made his way down the ladder, since shouting down at them wasn’t very efficient and they didn’t seem inclined to come up.

Impulse started twisting his hands together while Zedaph and Tango tried their best to look innocent behind him. It didn’t work. “Weeell, Tango wanted a terraforming job done around his base, so we made a little deal for it.”

Oh boy. Not much good came out of magical deals, yet the other hermits continued to make them with each other. Demonic deals were especially tricky since the demon didn’t have precise control over their end of the deal, not that it stopped these three. “Tango offered me his first beacon in exchange for the job, and it turns out that a beacon is worth a lot more than I thought- it’s probably easier if we show you.”

“Quick FYI guys: firsts are very valuable in deals! It applies to you as well Impulse, not just the fae!” Scar called helpfully from his still seated position on the balcony.

They all ended up going over to Tango’s house/ shop, which was literally buried in a mound of dirt and stone, along with about three quarters of Bdubs’ giant moon house. That explains why they didn’t use the nether.

The earth was offended after being touched by demonic magic, but after a long negotiation TFC managed to convince it that Impulse meant no harm, and it was happy to return to its prior state. Tango was mildly annoyed that he would have to do the terraforming himself and give Impulse a beacon, but it was better than the wrath he would have faced from Bdubs.

By the time TFC and Scar returned to the Boatem village, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. While TFC admired the beauty of it, Scar just looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the wizard, a frown making its way onto his face. “What do you mean you’re sorry? Did you do something to the tea?”

Despite TFC’s attempted joke, Scar still stared at his perfectly polished shoes. “This was supposed to be a nice relaxing day to catch up, and people were just showing up left and right. I mean, we hardly got to spend any time together! Maybe I shouldn’t invite people over with all this wizard stuff going on.”

“But we did spend time together.” TFC’s rough hand landed on Scar’s shoulder, the latter looking up at the former, startled by the contact.

“Well yeah we had tea for a while but-”

TFC had to cut off Scar’s rambling or he would never get to his point. “Yes we had tea, but I’m talking about the rest of the day.” Scar seemed genuinely confused at this. “I helped you un-curse Pearl,” he did air quotes on the word ‘helped,’ “We watched Joe and Cleo argue together, and you came with us to fix Tango’s house.” Of course he didn’t do much other than laugh at Tango’s misfortune, but it was the thought that counted. “Just ‘cause it didn’t go to plan doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time.” After all, not much went according to plan on the hermitcraft server.

Now Scar was smiling. “So I didn’t ruin the day with magical misfits?”

“Not at all.” TFC reached for his mug and emptied it one last time, then stretched before heading out. “But now I gotta get going. I don’t like my chances against the mobs with my crappy iron gear.”

Scar waved once more as TFC disappeared into the nether portal. “Goodnight TFC! And thanks again, for everything!”

TFC smiled as he made his way through the nether tunnels back home. Scar did a lot more for the hermits than he realized, allowing them to be free with their magic in a way they couldn’t back home, TFC included. He’d created a home for all sorts of ‘magic misfits’ as Scar put it, and he performed an invaluable service, whether he realized it or not.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some reminding every once in a while.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 8 #magic misfits au #tinfoilchef #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #joe hills #zombiecleo #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #im not too confident on the Emotional bits but #practice makes perfect i suppose #theres a few things i implied here so feel free to ask and clear things up

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

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Into the Forest of Fireflies’ Light

Lee Taeyong X Reader, feat. Haechan | Fluff, Best Friends to Lovers, Angst | Supernatural AU | 18k

Summary: You can only remember summer. Of the love you could never receive. Of the lips you could never truly taste. Of the warmth you could never take. And of a boy with smiles so soft, being consumed by the fireflies’ lights (strongly based on a beautiful Japanese animated movie called Hotarubi no Mori e)

Dear Taeyong,

I can only remember summer

Of the taste of the dry weather on our tongues

Of the songs the cicadas chanted behind our backs

Of the sunlight that bit through our skins

Of the summer dresses and cat masks we once had

I remember that twig of an oak tree between our hands

Separating you and me, life and death

That warm goodbye from your usually quiet lips

The way you said, “Until we meet next summer.”

And how I always truly, desperately, believed in it

You are the beautiful reality in my sleep

The blissful dream in my wake

I will see you again next summer

I miss you

***

Dear my love,

I can only love summer

Of faith that bloomed between us

Of loving smiles that shone when I glanced away

Of the longing distance we put between us

And the fireflies’ light that will soon consume me

I will wait for our late exchange of secret words

And next time, I will take your warm goodbye from your lips

“Until we meet on the next life, Taeyong,” you said

Yes, that’s true

Until we meet on the next life, my dear

Because of you, I have truly lived

Our summer will last for eternity

I love you

“Make sure you listen to your uncle, okay?” Your mother says in her motherly way just like how she usually does. “Do you have your handkerchief? Your ticket? A nice pair of shoes. Don’t zone out and miss your stop. You’re always clumsy like that.”

You straighten up with one bag slinging around your shoulder and another one hanging around your wrist. With a casual pair of flip-flops, a white sleeveless summer dress decorated with broderie details, and your lips curving upwards in a farewell smile, you respond, “Jeez, Mom. I’ve been going there every year. I’ll be fine. I’m taking off now, okay?”

Although your mother seems unsatisfied with your words, she lets her daughter kiss her cheek and waves her hand goodbye. As you take the first step out of your house, the sun quickly showers you with light that is hot enough to leave sunburn on your skin. The trip to the nearest bus stop will be nothing but exhausting, you’re sure of it. But it’s okay. It’s summer anyway. You always love summer.

The bus comes only a few minutes later after you arrived at the stop and dropped your heavy bags next to your feet. You take a seat on the right side of the bus, near the window. There are only three passengers on the vehicle aside from you—a man with a sweaty neck on the front row, and a mother cooling her half-sleepy child with her paper fan on the back seat. You smile a little to yourself. Everything seems normal, just like always.

You lay your head on the window, randomly staring at the trees and leaves getting blown by the wind, as the bus starts moving. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, letting your memories come close and your thoughts fly back to him.

The first time you met Taeyong was when you were six.

***

Thirteen years ago, you were nothing but a lively little kid with short-cropped hair and choppy bangs. During a hot summer day, you got lost in the forest of the Mountain God, which was said to be where spirits lived. After running around searching for an exit, you became so tired; you couldn’t move a muscle. You ended up sitting under the shadows of the swaying tree branches and felt a little ticklish from the green grass that spread widely underneath your feet. You hugged your knees to your chest, gave your best to act strong but failing pathetically with every try. When you started crying from fear and loneliness, he appeared before you.

“Hey, Shorty!” A male’s voice resonating through the air made you gasp sharply. “Why are you crying?”

There was a boy, standing just a few meters away, with half of his body hidden behind a tree. His posture seemed a bit rigid as if he was nervous or shy for suddenly reaching out to you. The boy was noticeably taller, with a voice that sounded deeper than any boy you’d ever met before. But judging by the way he dressed—at his denim trousers that ended a few inches above his ankles, combined with a casual short-sleeved button-down white shirt and a red tee underneath it, he was probably still around eighteen.

What caught your attention was the cat mask he wore on his face. It wasn’t unusual—you had seen your friends wearing it a few times during the summer festival. The white mask had ears, whiskers, and big round black eyes that were continuously staring back at you with no emotion. The mask covered his entire face, but you could still see his hair. His hairstyle was normal—a little bit messy from the wind, with his strands ended a few centimeters above his neckline, but the color was odd. It was silvery white, almost like an old man’s.

“It’s…” You gaped, not caring about any of that fact at the moment. “It’s a person! I’m saved!” You claimed happily, standing on your feet with so much speed, it almost gave you a head rush. With your hands spreading in front of you, you frantically ran towards the boy with joyful tears in your eyes. “I’M FINALLY SAVEEEEEED!”

But with a quick reaction, the boy moved away before you could embrace him and you ended up landing face-first on the ground, with a handful of grass finding their way to stick themselves into your mouth.

“S-sorry,” the boy said apologetically but he didn’t move any closer to help you up. “You’re a human child, right? If a human touches me, I’ll disappear.”

Previously annoyed, you looked up at him with knitted eyebrows. “If a human?” You blinked twice in confusion. Your eyelashes were still a bit wet from the tears that were no longer falling. “You’re not human?”

A momentary silence came by before he formed an answer. “I’m…” He hesitated. “Something that lives in this forest.”

“Huh?” You unconsciously tilted your head before realization hit you like a train and you clapped your hands in glee. “Then, you’re one of the Spirits?” Another silence, and this time, the boy decided not to reply, so you tried again. “But… What do you mean by ‘disappear’?”

He stayed mute, his body standing still as if time just stopped. You couldn’t see the expression he had behind the mask so you wouldn’t know how he reacted. You could only see the flat emotion the cat mask was giving you as he continuously stared at you. If you weren’t a playful little girl with a naturally born cheery attitude, you would’ve found it creepy.

But instead, you found it rather amusing.

You reached out your little hand toward him, climbing back to your feet and when he moved away from your touch, you began to try harder. Every time the boy tried to escape, you laughed a bit louder, tried a bit better, and before you knew it, you ended up chasing him between the trees.

You ran after him, reaching out for him, closer, closer, closer—

Thunk!

You groaned in pain, covering your bruised forehead with both palms as you kneeled on the ground. You couldn’t believe he just hit you on the head with a twig!

“Y-you’re really not human after all…” You whimpered, rubbing your ache away. “No human would hit a child like that!”

When you began to sob a little from the pain, the boy sighed. “To disappear means to be obliterated,” he explained, slowly taking his eyes off you to face the sky instead, “That’s the spell that the Mountain God placed upon me. If I get touched by a human, then that’s the end.”

You had stopped crying by the time his sentences sank into your head. His previous action was really necessary, then, if he was truly in that condition. If you had kept on chasing him and he’d failed to avoid you, he would’ve disappeared. Now that you thought of it, you realized you nearly killed him with your antics.

“I’m…” Still sitting on the ground, you folded your knees underneath you and bowed down, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m sorry…”

With an unreadable expression, the boy approached you and gently offered the wooden twig. “Here, Shorty,” he said, “Grab the other end.” When you gazed up at him, he was facing away. His posture seemed to give out a vibe that he was a bit embarrassed but you weren’t exactly sure of it. “You’re lost, aren’t you? I'll lead you out of the forest.”

You were surprised at first, both from his kindness and his features, because from that position, you could see the side of his face. His jawlines were sharp and prominent. The skin of his cheek was just as pale as the rest of his body. He was so white; it was almost ghastly.

You beamed at him. “You’re so nice! Thank you!” Moving by reflex, you began to run toward his arms again. The boy was screaming from being caught off guard, and you almost got him before—

Thunk!

You were stopped by another hard hit on the head.

“I’ve told you not to—” The boy was breathing hard with his body leaning forward and his hands clamped around his knees to steady his weight. “Don’t touch me.”

You were practically rolling on the grass to mute the aching you felt on your temple. “S-sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

The two of you walked next to each other with thirty centimeters long wooden twig between your hands. With every stride he took, you had to match it by doubling your steps. Your height difference was striking. It almost looked like you two were siblings—with him being the high school student older brother and you being his elementary school sister.

You were walking down some stone steps, tightening your grip around the twig to maintain your balance. There was a temple inside the forest, and that was the only way out. You usually followed that path to come back home but that day, you were having too much fun wandering around on your own that you forgot the way to find those tracks again.

There were abandoned Buddhist statues on the side of the stairs and the steps had some cracks on them even though they were made of stone. You could tell that the place would be too scary to walk alone when the night fell and the cicadas stopped singing. But right now, you couldn’t care much about it.

“It’s just like going on a date!” You chirped happily, jumping like the little girl that you were as you climbed down the steps. You hadn’t known how a date would feel like—after all, you were only six back then—but you had imagined it happening with a boy in your school, and this one fit your imagination well.

The boy had his free hand stuck inside his pocket. With a nonchalant voice, he replied, “Not a very romantic one, though.” And when you weren’t looking, he stole secret glances at you. Of course, with the mask still on, there wouldn’t be much of a difference, even if you had been looking.

“You aren’t afraid, are you?” he asked, and although you were surprised, you grinned at him.

“Of what?”

The boy seemed a bit hesitant before he answered, “Nevermind.”

You walked a few more steps until you finally arrived at the end of the stairs. The sun in the background was already setting, splashing orange tint to the previously blue sky. “If you go straight, you’ll hit the mountain path,” the boy said, standing under the simple wooden gate with no doors that indicated the entrance to the forest. And with his usual flat tone, he said, “Goodbye.”

“Are you always going to be here?” You questioned. “If I come back here, can we meet again?”

“This is the forest where the Mountain God and the Spirits live,” he answered matter of factly. “Set foot within and you’ll lose your way and be lost forever.” The wind was blowing, caressing his silvery-white hair and that made you stare in awe, memorizing how out of this world he seemed and wondering what kind of expression he displayed behind that mask. “You shouldn’t be here,” he finished. “That’s what the villagers say, right?”

That was true. It was, and you understood that, and yet, you just couldn’t wave this meeting away as if it never happened. Facing him a little bit better, you warmly smiled and introduced yourself. “I’d love to be your friend. Can you tell me your name?”

He didn’t say a word, just continued to stand in front of you with his cat mask staring back at your face. You waited… and waited… and even a second felt so long.

Those expressionless cat’s eyes kept staring back at you, making you feel somewhat woozy and embarrassed. It was as if you just asked something too personal. Perhaps he didn’t want you to know. Perhaps he didn’t want you to be attached to him. Perhaps he just wanted you to go away.

“U-umm…” Panicking, you took a step back, putting more distance between you. “Anyway, I’ll be back tomorrow with a thank-you present!” Just that, and I won’t come back if my presence bothers you so much. “B-bye!” You shouted, turning around on your heels and proceed to run from the tension that felt like cutting your skin open.

But then—

“It’s Taeyong.”

You stopped abruptly and turned around, but the boy was no longer in sight. His voice vanished without a trace, drowned by the wind.

But you heard it loud enough to put a permanent smile on your face that night.

Taeyong.

When you were walking by the fields that seemed more familiar, you were humming to yourself. It was until you heard your name being called that you stopped singing.

Your uncle was walking toward you with tattered breathing. Perhaps, he had been running around the village searching for you all day. “Uncle!” You greeted, grinning innocently as you ran toward his arms. “Uncle, I—”

“You stupid girl!” Your uncle landed a knock on your head before you could hug him and it was the third time you felt like your head was about to explode that day. “If you go into the forest on your own and get hurt, what are you going to do?!”

You finally began to realize that possibility and ended up crying as you ran to embrace him again. Your uncle let your tiny arms wind themselves around his waist and though he was still upset, he felt more relieved than anything. He patted your back and soon after you calmed down, you began to walk with your hands holding one another.

“Hey, Uncle.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it true that there are spirits living in that forest?”

“The Mountain God’s forest, huh? Who knows. That’s what they say,” he answered in an unusually serious demeanor. But when he started again, he had a tiny smile painted upon his lips. “When I was little, I wanted to meet the spirits so my friends and I often went into the forest. In the end, I never met any but I had the feeling I’d occasionally spot something from the corner of my eye. On summer nights, you could hear the sounds of the river coming from the forest. And now that I think about it, Hyori said she and her friends went and had fun at a summer festival in the forest. But there’s no way the villagers would’ve held a festival in the forest. So then, whose festival could it have been? It started this crazy story that they must’ve snuck into a festival for the spirits.”

The old man with a scruffy beard was laughing, his eyes glistening with the reminiscence of his childhood. “Man, that takes me back!” he exclaimed. “We were so stupid back when we were kids.” Then he laughed some more. You were only busy carving his story into your mind.

That night, you had trouble sleeping. The last words that Taeyong spoke to you were echoing in your head.

This is the forest where the Mountain God and the Spirits live. Set foot within and you’ll lose your way and be lost forever.

You understood that and yet…

***

“You came back,” Taeyong said, sitting at the end of the stone stairs where you parted ways the day before. He was wearing the same clothes, with the same cat mask on his face. “I didn’t think you’d really come back.”

You blinked your eyes, mouth slightly parted. The question ‘Was he waiting for me?’ ran through your mind. “You…”

The boy tilted his head, “Huh?”

“YOU WAITED FOR MEEEEE!” You screamed in excitement, running towards him in reflex with your arms reaching forward. The boy yelped in surprised then—

Thunk!

“You just don’t learn, do you?” Taeyong sighed, holding the same wooden twig he held on the previous day. Though the pain on the top of your head was throbbing, you chuckled, feeling your heart burst in warmth and joy.

“I was so happy, I just…” you giggled again. “Sorry.”

The boy leaped forward, approaching the spot where you were squatting down due to the pain. Taeyong pocketed both of his hands and threw his face to the side. “It’s a bit hot here. Shall we go somewhere cooler?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, climbing up the stairs even though he just hopped down from there. Perhaps he wanted to walk beside you? “I’ll walk you back again.”

Your lips broke into the biggest grin you had ever made in your six years of living. “Okay!”

You went inside the forest, walking next to one another with nothing but air between you. You wondered if Taeyong had decided to trust you now, or if he was just being polite. You offered him the vanilla ice cream you’d brought from your uncle’s shop and the two of you ate your ices in silence. But the thing was, the silence was never awkward. You knew by then that Taeyong wasn’t much of a talker, and you were already too happy for being able to spend your day not with just a new friend, but also your first Spirit friend. It felt surreal and exciting at the same time.

The deeper you went inside the forest, you found out that the trees were bigger, almost taking all of the blazing sunlight to themselves and left none for you and Taeyong to bask on. The wind felt soft on your skin, the scent of grass and blooming flowers filled the air.

Your smile never receded from view when you walked behind Taeyong. It was only when you noticed that something had been following you that you began to frown. “Hmm?” You were sure something was following you, but Taeyong was walking like everything was normal.

As you were about to dismiss the thought, a shadow crept along the ground, a layer of dark mist clouded your vision, then a voice, low but thunderous, spoke. “Taeyong.”

You froze, your fingers almost gripping at the end of Taeyong’s shirt. The shadow turned colossal, darker, and somehow, somehow, you could see it grinning eerily at you.

“Is that a human child?” the shadow asked in a reverberating voice. You could practically feel its eyes on your skin. “Can I eat her?”

You hastily moved to the side with your tiny steps, hiding behind Taeyong’s legs. The boy noticed your fear and he quickly set out a hand to let his opponent know that you were off-limit. “No,” he said, “She’s my friend.”

“Is that so?” The shadow’s voice reminded you of the sound of the dark grey clouds rumbling before the storm came to wash the earth. “Human child, please don’t touch Taeyong’s skin. If you do, I’ll eat you.”

You were so scared; you started to shiver all over. By the way you were clutching to his shirt, Taeyong realized that you were, indeed, only a vulnerable little girl, barely knew anything about the world and the secrets it held. “Hey—” But then he abruptly sneezed.

The Shadow suddenly shrieked in horror then there was a blast of smoke, making you jolt on your feet, tiny hairs standing up at your nape. When you managed to look between the mist with narrowed eyes, that shadowy figure turned into a cute little golden fox with nine furry tails and a pair of sparkling ruby eyes.

“Oh!” It was so tiny, you could probably hold it with both hands. “Is that a Spirit Fox?”

The Fox’s fur was standing up, perhaps it was startled by Taeyong’s sudden sneeze. It wasn’t even that loud—to be honest, Taeyong’s sneeze was much quieter than how your uncle used to do. To be frightened only because of that…

“Yeah, he’s another one of the Spirits. He transforms to scare people away, but he’s all bark and no bite,” Taeyong said, approaching the little golden fox that was hiding behind a tree with its body cowering to the ground. “Isn’t that right?” The boy bent down, grabbing the fox with both hands, and lifted it off the ground. “Haechannie?”

Puff!

There was another kind of explosion that clouded the forest with ash grey mist, and you coughed a couple of times before you gazed back to the Fox. It was no longer a fox—it was a person.

Taeyong was holding a boy’s waist with both hands just like how he did to the animal before and your jaw grew slack at the sight. The golden fox just turned into a human—a male, nonetheless—with golden hair and the same pair of ruby eyes that matched the blush that crept through his cheeks. His skin, you noticed, had a darker complexion but it complimented his looks so much as if he was kissed by the sun, smooth skin glistening under the light. He also had a pair of dog-like ears and a nice golden Foxtail that resembled his previous form. And although the color of his hair and eyes were striking, it didn’t startle you as much as the fact that the boy was naked.

You screamed, immediately turning around from the sight of the two boys facing each other with Taeyong’s hands still holding Haechan’s bare waist as if it was the most normal thing to do. You had your hands covering your face, feeling embarrassed since it was the first time you witnessed a naked boy’s body.

“It’s because you startled me,” Haechan whined, arms flailing as he blushed a bit deeper. “Now let go of me, Hyung.”

Taeyong sighed, taking his hands off the boy that appeared to be the same age as him—just a couple of years younger, maybe. He didn’t seem to be bothered by Haechan’s bare skin at all, though he looked tired of his antics. “Don’t bother her, okay? She’s a friend.” Taeyong pointed his head toward you squatting down on the ground with your back turned, face sinking into your palms. You could hear Taeyong telling him your name but Haechan snorted in response.

“I don’t care what her name is!” Haechan shouted, looking away from the other boy. “Why are you getting all chummy with her even though you just met!” The way he whined so childishly was the complete opposite of the way he talked in his monstrous shadow form earlier. “And she’s a human! What would you do if she touches you by accident?” With a prominent pout, Haechan added under his breath, “You’re such an idiot.”

With the cat mask staring flatly at him, Taeyong replied, “I can hear you, you know.”

“Ah, damn it!” Haechan groaned, giving the other boy a shove on his shoulder. “I won’t cry if you disappear, all right?! It will all be your fault! Taeyongie, you big idiot!” He quickly turned back into his animal form, nipped Taeyong’s finger with his pointy teeth, and climbed the tree with his little paws.

Taeyong yelped a little from the bite but more because of the shock instead of pain. “Haechannie!” he called, but the fox spirit never looked back, jumping from one branch to another until he disappeared behind the trees. The cat-masked boy huffed and walked back towards you. “He’s gone now,” Taeyong said, bending down a little to match your height. “I’m sorry if he scared you.”

You slowly sneaked a glance behind you, and it was true. Haechan was nowhere to be seen. It was then that you could finally grasp what just happened.

“It was so…” You clenched your tiny fists before you jumped and punched the air. “SO AWESOME! That was the first time I’ve seen a real spirit! Not quite like I imagined, and I wasn’t prepared to see a naked boy like that but wow, they really do exist!” And as you continued jumping happily on your feet, shouting, “Amazing! Amazing! So amazing!” Taeyong muttered, “So what did you think I was?” And without waiting for you to calm down, he walked again with his hands tucked neatly inside his pockets.

You eventually followed him with your usual lively grin. “Are you a no-face or something? Why are you wearing that mask?”

“No particular reason,” Taeyong answered, making you frown. Perhaps he hadn’t trusted you that much? “Never mind me. Tell me about yourself.”

Your eyes twinkled; your grin turned mischievous. “Are you curious?”

A pause, then, “That’s why I waited for you.”

You couldn’t suppress your laughter. He was waiting for you, after all.

So you told him about yourself, from the most important things to the littlest nonsenses that went through your mind. Taeyong listened to your words in silence, no comment, no reaction, not even giving the slightest hum. And since he was always wearing that cat mask on his face, there was no way of telling how he felt when he listened to your stories. Did he even pay any attention to you? Was he bored? Was it entertaining for him? Taeyong was a mystery you didn’t know how to solve.

The next day and the day after that, you went back to the forest again and again. You kept running and playing all around the mountain, just together with the boy who was probably, at least, twice your age. You managed to break through the walls he built around you, little by little. His quiet, reserved demeanor gradually turned into something warmer, though not as lively or chaotic as you were. He began to tell you his favorite spots in the forest; crafted little ships from long leaves so you could watch them float along the river streams; and grabbed your sun hat when it got blown away by the wind before they got caught between the branches of a willow tree.

You even got Taeyong to play tag with you. You would run away from him, and he would chase after you with a twig on his hand so he didn’t have to touch you directly when he said, “Tag, you’re it!” Taeyong’s favorite trick was pretending to fall on the ground and waited for you to come back with a worried face. You always did, but Taeyong still wouldn’t be able to catch you even after you fell for his trap because you were always much faster.

These mundane things you shared were special to both you and him. And even though they would most likely dissipate from your memories as you grow older, at that time you felt infinite.

***

One day, you were humming to yourself as you were busy collecting little flowers from the field while Taeyong was lying down on the grass with his mask-covered face facing the clouds. The sun was hot but the wind was nice. At the end of the day, it was comforting.

With a handmade bouquet between your tiny palms, you rose to your feet and ran to Taeyong’s spot, only to found the boy resting there with one hand lying idly on his stomach. You kneeled next to his head, facing him upside down. “Taeyong…” you murmured to yourself, gazing at his cat mask. “Did he fall asleep?”

Slowly, out of curiosity, you reached out a hand. You hesitated, but it would be okay if you only touched his mask, wouldn’t it? Swallowing hard, you decided to take your chance.

How does he look underneath that mask?

You placed your tiny palms on each side of his mask, and slowly, carefully, lifted it off his face. Your heart was racing, as if you were doing something sinful your heart forbid you to. You pulled it higher, and higher, until you could see his face, and for that moment, the time seemed to stop.

Despite his height, Taeyong had a young baby face with long eyelashes brushing the top of his cheeks. His eyes were closed and he looked so blissful, like a baby falling asleep in his mother’s arms. His skin was soft, flawless, but pale—almost transparent as the sun shone its light upon it. His nose was cute. He had curvy, thin lips, with two tiny moles faintly painting his lower one. His jawlines were sharper than Haechan’s, making him look mature, and the more you observed his features, the more you thought that, oh, he was indeed a boy.

A beautiful, beautiful boy.

You thought that Taeyong was unfair to hide such beauty from the world; to only let the world witness malice while he kept such purity inside the forest.

How young… How innocent…

Then Taeyong suddenly smirked and before you knew it, a pair of deep, dark brown eyes were staring back at you.

“Ah! SORRY!” You exclaimed, startled to the point that all your breath left your lungs at once. Panicking, you unintentionally slammed the mask down onto his face harder than you intended to.

Taeyong hissed in pain, holding his face over the mask, and turned to his side. “Attacking someone while they’re asleep like this,” he said, eventually moved up and sat down cross-legged on the grass. “You surely are a scary little lady.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” You looked away, muttering quietly. “You were pretending to sleep anyway, weren’t you?”

Taeyong paused for a second before he propped his elbow on his thigh and laid his chin on his palm. Somehow, you felt like he was smiling behind that mask. “I looked normal, didn’t I?” he asked, a bit playfully. This time, it was you who just sat quietly and stared back at him without a word.

“Taeyong… Why are you wearing that mask?”

He straightened up, voice sounding unusually soft when he spoke. “If I don’t wear this mask, I don’t look like a spirit, do I?” Surely with that mask on, Taeyong seemed less human. After all, that mask was designed after the Cat Spirit that was retold from time to time. But why? Why did he have to go that far? Was he scared that people would mistake him for a human and grabbed him accidentally without purpose?

You just sat in silence. Somehow, your chest tightened, as if you were drowning little by little. It was heartbreaking to know that Taeyong seemed like he didn’t have a choice. Maybe he wanted to throw that mask away. Maybe he wanted to be human—or at least, look like one. Maybe he wanted to be connected. To truly be alive. But then that would mean he had to risk everything…

And knowing how even days had passed by, you hadn’t seen anyone getting along with him other than you, Taeyong had probably never set a foot outside the forest either.

Is that why he seems so…

Lonely?

“You’re weird,” you said and you ended the topic just like that. Because if Taeyong didn’t want to tell, then you wouldn’t want to force the words out of his mouth.

Taeyong only chuckled.

***

“Taeyong.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think…” You stared sadly at your feet as you climbed down the stone steps that lead you back to the entrance gate. “I don’t think I can go back here tomorrow.”

Taeyong didn’t utter a word. Like usual, he just walked in front of you with his hands in his pockets and his mask pressed tightly against his face.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I?” You continued. “That I’m just staying at my uncle’s place for the summer? So, I have to go home tomorrow…”

Taeyong just hummed once, to let you know that he was listening but did not intend to form a reply. You brought your head down, feeling disappointed. But why were you disappointed? You never felt like this when you said goodbye to your other friends before.

Taeyong stopped dead on his tracks. “Will you…” he said, turning his body slightly to face you but not quite. “Will you be able to come again next year?”

You stood still, your lips trembled slightly as if you were about to explode into words. Before you knew it, you felt your eyes grew a bit teary but you blinked your tears away before they fell and with a huge smile on your face, you merrily replied, “Yeah!” You had never felt so relieved.

And that was how summer became something you always looked forward to.

***

Every year, you came back and Taeyong always waited for your promised summer. You would find him sitting near the gate, on the stone stairs with his white cat mask placed upon his face. The two of you usually just did the same routines, lying lazily on the field of grass, eating ice creams as you crossed the wooden bridge, or throwing pebbles while dipping your bare feet into the water of the lake that was as clear as the sky.

“So cold!” You were turning eight that year, shouting as you plunged your bare feet into the water. Taeyong only let out a flat comment, “You’re weird. Of course the water is cold.” And although he sounded bored, you could tell that he was probably smiling behind his mask. After all, he could have just stayed silent about it, and yet he said something just to pull a reaction from you. You adored that part of him where he acted like he was fine being alone when in reality, there was nothing he craved more than someone’s attention.

Sometimes, when you walked too close to each other, a Spirit would show up in some form to revive the forgotten space between you. A lady wearing a snow-like kimono with flaming red hair once grabbed the side of his cheek and said with a pair of agonizing eyes, “Please be careful, Taeyong. We don’t want to lose you.”

A willow tree caressed his hair with its branch, pulling him by the neckline so he would distance himself away from you. The way its thick branch was shaped into a beast’s claw, clutching at Taeyong’s entire body was almost frightening, but there was only tenderness laced with concern when it spoke, “It’s dangerous, Taeyong. That’s a human child. If she touches you, you’ll disappear.”

“Thank you,” Taeyong always said, placing a reassuring hand on the tree’s claw. “I’m fine.” He sounded so sincere and absolute, leaving the Spirit Tree with no choice but to retract its claw from him.

“Please don’t touch him, human child,” the Spirit Tree said once again before it went back to its slumber. You could only answer, “Yes,” but to you, it was more than a promise. After all, you wouldn’t want Taeyong to disappear.

You couldn’t help but notice that other Spirits could touch him normally. You tried to put aside how your heart jerked with jealousy. You wouldn’t let your selfishness be the end of him.

Haechan was the one who showed up the most, appearing in his animal form to bite the end of your skirt and pulled you away from the other boy. He persistently yelled at you how your entire existence was a threat to him, making you realize that you were a weapon, designed by God to annihilate him and yet, Taeyong still waited for your visit every year. How could someone dare to take a risk like that?

Were you really worth all the trouble?

***

Every year, you waited for the summer to come. And before you knew it, you were already a ten-year-old girl. You grew taller, but your hair was still cut short with choppy bangs. Though you grew older, it didn’t mean your childish personality was wiped away.

“Hey,” Taeyong called, searching for you who were hiding somewhere in your sky blue summer dress through the holes of his cat-mask. “It’s dangerous to wander alone in the forest! Where are you—”

“SURPRISEEEED!” You shouted, dangling upside down from a tree branch with your legs circling it. Taeyong yelped, taking a step back in surprise from your sudden appearance. You were enjoying the moment, but before you could laugh about it, the end of your dress couldn’t fight the gravity so it fell covering your face. Your white panties were shown clearly for Taeyong’s eyes to see. “OH NO!” You quickly attempted to pull your dress back up and eventually, shifted your weight so you ended up sitting on the branch.

“What are you doing exactly?” Taeyong asked, not because you looked dumb but because he was genuinely interested in knowing. He always seemed to find your existence somewhat amusing.

You chuckled lightly. “I wanted to see your startled face but…” You forgot he was wearing his mask all the time so that was ultimately pointless. Taeyong just stared back, waiting because you looked like you wanted to say more. “You know, Taeyong… Can you at least take your mask off when I’m around? Once in a while is okay, right?”

Taeyong let a second pass. “Well, it’s fine but…” He placed his fingers at the end of his mask and slowly began to lift it off his face. “Is there a particular reason why?”

You observed him with anticipation. “Well, not really, but—” A cracking sound could be heard as the branch wasn’t strong enough to handle your weight, and with a shriek, you found yourself falling.

Calling your name, Taeyong ran towards you in reflex, arms out and ready to catch you. In a split second, as you fought to defy gravity, you could see his hands desperately trying to save you. Aside from the fear of falling, all you could think about was—

No.

Please, don’t.

Don’t touch me.

If you touch me, you’ll—

You fell head first on small bushes that were soft and safe enough for you to land on. You had landed on the ground before Taeyong could reach you and although you felt like you probably twisted your shoulder a little, you were more than fine.

“That was close…” Taeyong breathed out, his hands still hanging stiffly in the air.

“Y-yeah…” You felt slightly lightheaded as adrenaline faded away from your veins. You were in haze, body reclining against the bushes, grateful to be able to come unscathed.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong murmured, but from not being able to be there on time to catch you or because he had retracted his hands back in reflex when he nearly touched your skin, you weren’t sure. “Are you okay?”

You exchanged stares, letting a few seconds pass by in silence before you finally let out a weak chuckle. “Thank goodness.” When Taeyong asked you what you meant, you softly added, “No matter what happened, Taeyong, don’t ever touch me, okay?”

His lips were tightly shut as he approached your spot, but the gesture he made with his hands seemed like he wanted to comfort you. Why would he want to comfort me, you thought but soon enough, you found the answer.

Because when you spoke again, your words are tainted with your tears.

“Did you hear me?” You forced yourself to smile but once the first tear broke, the rest of them were unstoppable. You cried again, and again, and again, until your whole body trembled, chest suffocating. You tried to laugh it off, shakily saying, “No matter what, okay?” but the more you tried to pretend that it didn’t faze you when you almost erased his entire existence over your negligence, you sobbed even harder.

You finally understood why the Spirits didn’t want you to be close to him. It wasn’t because they didn’t trust you. It was because Taeyong was just too kind. Even if it meant he would be wiped off the earth, he wouldn’t mind as long as you were safe. The way he had run toward you with his arms reaching out to you was a proof of that. The Spirits probably thought that Taeyong would be obliterated someday not because you touched him, but because he tried to save you when something like this happened again.

No. I can’t afford that.

No matter what, please don’t touch me.

You didn’t want him to see this side of you. You didn’t want him to know that in a human world, sometimes pain could be so unbearable that all you could do was just fall to your knees and wish that someday you could stop crying and stand up again.

This ugly side of humanity… You didn’t want Taeyong to know…

But Taeyong never said a word.

***

The next summer and the summer after that, you continued to visit the forest to meet him.

“Taeyong! I’m here again this year!” You greeted, wearing your junior high school uniform with your skirt ending a few inches above your knees. Taeyong, dressed in the same way like he always did, was already there at the spot where he usually waited for you to arrive. “Ta-daa!” You twirled once for him, making your skirt flutter and your longer hair sway above your neckline. “I’ve become a seventh-grader now!”

As always, you couldn’t tell what kind of expression he had behind that mask, but Taeyong was indeed staring at you for a few seconds. “Somehow…” he began saying, “You’re starting to look like a girl.”

“I am a girl,” you replied, unconsciously pouting and Taeyong laughed a little in response. Even the way he laughed felt like summer to you—radiant and hot enough to light a spark of fire to your chest. Standing up, he stuck his hands inside his pockets, and climbed up the stairs. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, then as you saw his figure, you began to realize. “Oh…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

You just noticed that your ages were gradually getting closer. Unlike you, Taeyong didn’t age normally as any human would. Somehow, he aged much slower, maintaining his youth to stay perfectly the same from season to season. Your height was almost on the same par as Taeyong’s shoulders now. As the years went by, your appearance began to change, but Taeyong almost looked the same as the day you first met.

If this keeps on going… Maybe…

You stopped walking when you realized Taeyong wasn’t walking beside you anymore. You looked back, facing the sun that was setting behind the hill and the boy who stood with his face lifted to perceive the sky. There was a butterfly on Taeyong’s mask, just right on the cat’s nose and slowly, he began to take it off. Underneath the shadow of the mask, Taeyong was smiling, softly, gently, and he eventually brought his mask down to stare at the butterflies that flew through the branches of the trees.

He closed his eyes.

From where you were standing, Taeyong merely appeared like a silhouette but in your eyes, he was a painting worth being praised. A beautiful portrayal of a man who only knew bliss in his life with a pure smile that even God wouldn’t be able to resist its beauty.

It was probably the day when you realized the reason behind the ache in your chest.

Someday, I will be older than him, won’t I?

You didn’t know what would be more dreadful to face: Taeyong leaving you over an accidental touch, or you leaving Taeyong because of old age. After all, time is cruel. Time is responsible for the summers that come and go, for the leaves in autumn that shrivel, for the long and cold winters that made your teeth jittery. It’s amazing how you can fall asleep by listening to the sound of the rain and when you wake up, the sun is blazing once again and the roads are dry. It would be as if it never rained.

What if I become like that? You questioned yourself. What if for Taeyong, I’m just nothing more than a fleeting summer day?

With the two of you being bound by the chains of time, you knew that there would come a day where time would become your enemy.

You buried your thoughts deep inside your mind, and promised him, “I’ll come back here again tomorrow, okay?”

Taeyong opened his eyes, gazing back at you, and smiled that one breathtakingly beautiful smile. “Then I’ll be waiting as always.”

***

“Before our summer vacation started, a boy in my class asked me out,” you said, now fourteen, as you hugged your knees to your chest, making sure that your sky blue sleeveless summer dress was not showing the polkadot panties you wore underneath. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Taeyong didn’t respond, wasn’t sure how to. He just stared at you—blankly, by the look of his cat mask, and you curled your toes in the uncomfortable silence.

“Say something, will you?” you mumbled after a while, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Well, that—” You opened your mouth but then nothing came out. What did that mean exactly? ‘To go out’? “Well, I mean, I think he wants me to date him… or something,” you finished terribly.

Taeyong hummed, lying down on the grass and folding his hands underneath his head to use them as his pillow. The leaves of the trees above him were doing a great job in providing the shades he needed. “Date, huh?”

There was something annoying about how Taeyong behave so nonchalantly like this, as if you were conversing about what you had for breakfast. But you noticed that it was weird of you to feel that way. Did you even have the right to be upset?

“What do you suppose they do?” Taeyong suddenly asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

“They?”

“People who are dating,” he explained further, his hands now moving to lay on his sides. “What do you think they do?”

You thought about it, looking up at the pillowy white clouds and feeling the wind that caressed your strands. “I don’t know,” you answered, throwing yourself to the grass again, next to Taeyong but remembering to put a safe distance between you. “Maybe go somewhere together, hold hands and stuff?”

Taeyong fell into another silence.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on the small gap between your pinky finger and his. You almost moved your hand closer, just a little bit, but then he lifted his arm and you nearly yelped in shock.

Taeyong took off his mask and placed it over his chest. His hand was now nowhere close to your smaller one. He had his eyes closed and from where you were lying on his side, you could see how long his eyelashes were, how they fluttered against his cheeks. Taeyong still looked so young, like a pure little boy with no idea how to sin, and perhaps that was because he never stepped a foot outside the forest. You envied his naivety but you also questioned how he truly felt for living a life monotonously like that. Even though he had Haechan and the rest of his Spirit friends here, was it really better for him to have no contact with humans?

Because sometimes… Taeyong looked so lonely.

The boy parted his lips. “Do you think they would kiss?”

If you had been drinking, you would’ve sprayed all of it on Taeyong’s face. “What?!”

“Those couples,” Taeyong elucidated, as if you were asking because you didn’t understand, when in reality you were just utterly embarrassed by it. “Do you think they kiss a lot?”

“What—” You almost bit your tongue. “Who even told you this stuff?! I thought you were supposed to live inside the forest!”

“I do, but it doesn’t mean I’m raised like Tarzan, you know.”

He even knows Tarzan! You wanted to scream. “Let me guess, Haechan?”

“Yeah.”

That perverted little fox! Of course he told him this stuff!

“Yeah, well, I think they do,” you sighed, lying down on the grass again with another huff. “I remember having this conversation with a friend. See, she has a boyfriend, and she told me that they were kissing the other day. I, just like now, didn’t know what to say.”

“You never kissed anyone before?”

Your face was aflame and it had nothing to do with the sun. “N-no…” Of course not! If I had done it, then—

“Why not?” Taeyong asked, staring at you with genuine curiosity. You promptly looked away, ignoring the question.

Because then you’d disappear, you idiot. But how could you tell Taeyong that? You didn't even know why you wanted to kiss him. When exactly did you start wanting it? When did you start looking at him differently?

“I just…” You absentmindedly played with the tip of the grass underneath your fingers. “…haven’t found the right person yet.” Actually, I have, but if I touch him, he’ll disappear so… “And there’s a difference, you know, between kissing someone because they’re attractive and kissing someone because, umm, w-words can no longer express the intense feelings you have for them.” You clear your throat, feeling a bit nauseous all of a sudden. “Even if I did go out with him, I can’t just kiss him because he’s cute. It’s not right.”

Taeyong’s eyes were following the clouds, which were somehow changing shapes from one to another. “A kiss, huh…” he mumbled, reaching out a hand toward the sky and spread his fingers widely as if he was about to seize the sun. “I wonder if humans are as warm as this.”

“As the sun?” You asked, laughing quietly. “I certainly hope not. That’d be scary.”

Taeyong only smiled, slowly averting his eyes to lock them with yours. But you’re already burning as bright though…

“What?” You asked when you saw him looking at you without saying anything. “Did Haechan draw something on my face again? I swear to God, it’s like I can’t even let my guard down for one sec—”

“Don’t kiss him,” Taeyong suddenly said, abruptly cutting the rest of your sentence short and leaving you gaping, loss for words. When silence came to fill the space, he tried to break through the tension. “I mean…” He scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Well, it’s your choice, but…”

Your heart warmed. “But…?”

Taeyong’s tongue laid heavy in his mouth and he quickly put his cat mask back on. “We’re too far inside the forest. We should be getting back now before it’s too late,” he sternly said, sitting up. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the gate.” And he stood up, placed his hands inside his pockets as always, and walked away without even waiting for you to get up.

You followed with a blissful smile breaking on your face.

“I won’t,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. “If you don’t want me to kiss him, I won’t.” Taeyong never said anything back.

But you noticed the way the tip of his ears went red.

***

Taeyong called your name. His voice, like always, sounded a little bit muffled from the mask. “Hey, I’m back. Too bad, I can’t find the—”

The sight of you in your favorite peach summer dress, sleeping soundly on the grass as if nothing could attack you at that moment, made him grow speechless. You had one arm lying down on your stomach, your lips were slightly parted as you fell deep into slumber, and Taeyong could see your chest heaving up and down slowly every time you breathed.

“Goodness,” he muttered, sighing. “This is a forest, you know? Moreover, it’s the forest where Spirits live. What would you do if they attack you?” Not that Taeyong actually thought that would happen—except for Haechan. That devilish fox could be pretty childish when he got jealous. Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised if he found him biting the edge of your dress again.

But, of course, you didn’t hear him. You had always been a heavy sleeper, even a clap of thunder could barely wake you up.

Taeyong huffed once more before he sat down next to you, taking a glance at the beauty marks on your face, at your bangs that had grown longer since your first visit two months ago, and at the lovely shape of your mouth. The way your lips seemed so soft and rosy, sparked curiosity and something within him that he couldn’t properly name, as he didn’t quite understand the feeling just yet.

Pressing one palm to the grass to prop his weight, Taeyong took off his mask. His silvery-white hair fell covering his hooded eyes but the soft wind blew it away. He leaned over, almost hovering above you by the time he laid his other palm on the other side of your head. Releasing a shaky breath, he brought his face down to yours.

I’m… Towards you, I’ve been…

Close. So close. Taeyong could even count your eyelashes if he wanted. You were breathing softly, warm air flowing from your slightly parted lips. Taeyong wanted to seal them with his own.

“Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked, freezing on the spot. You were awake, staring at him with your eyes still slightly red from sleep. “Taeyong, what are you doing…?”

Taeyong only stared at you, eyes to eyes with such close proximity. He could tell how nervous you were, no matter how hard you tried to keep your face composed.

“I couldn’t find the flower you wanted,” he said, with a voice so calm as if he was speaking in a safe distance. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” You swallowed, still locking your gaze together although your heart was screaming like a beating drum. “It’s all right…”

Taeyong spent another two seconds being in that position before he finally pulled away, just to press his mask to your face. You let out an ‘oof’ sound of surprise but you didn’t take it off. You just laid there, completely still, with his mask covering your face. It smelled just like him—the dry air of summer, with a hidden scent of fresh green grass and sunray.

“Your face’s red,” Taeyong said. “Go back to sleep.”

You wondered whether the sun managed to bite through your skin and warm your face like this. But how would that explain your racing heartbeat?

“Okay…” you murmured and the sounds of birds chirping suddenly became louder as you both fell mute, unsure of what to say.

Not far from there, a golden fox scrunched his nose in annoyance. With a small puff of smoke, Haechan returned to his human form.

“Is he an idiot?” Haechan growled in his human voice, sneaking around behind the bushes with no clothes on like usual. “What would he have done if she didn’t wake up? Did he want to die?! I should’ve knocked some sense into his head! Stupid Taeyongie!” But despite the venom in his words, Haechan could only look away and do nothing. After all…

Taeyong had looked so happy.

There was only this little smile displayed on his lips, yet somehow he looked more alive than Haechan had ever seen him before. It was the first time Haechan ever witnessed that kind of expression on him.

Haechan gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “That idiot,” he said again, grumbling but instead of running back and throwing a fist at the other man, Haechan kept walking away and bit his lower lip until it grew white. Stop looking that happy. You know how this would end, don’t you? She can’t give you the happy ending you want.

Don’t start something that will only hurt you, Hyung…

***

On the last day of your eighth summer together, you bought Taeyong a scarf. When he asked the reason why, you simply explained with, “My uncle said the winter will be freezing this year, so be sure to wear it, okay?”

“I don’t get cold, though.”

“Just wear it.”

Taeyong hummed, taking a detailed look at the maroon knitted scarf in his hands. The cuts that appeared on your fingers when you tried to knit it three months earlier had disappeared, and just by seeing him holding it already made you feel like it worth every effort you’d given.

“Oh, and here.” You took a small music player from your summer dress’s pocket. It had earphones and batteries that would definitely last for at least a month if it was only used once a while. “I’ll give you this.”

“You’re giving me a lot of things today,” Taeyong commented. “And what’s this?”

“An mp3 player,” you said as you sat next to him on the stone stairs. “Here, I’ll show you how it works. First, you press here to turn it on, then you pick the song from the playlist.” You demonstrated every word and Taeyong stared intently at the mp3 screen from the holes of his mask. “I already put some songs in it. I’m not sure what kind of music you like, so I kind of put every genre I could find. You can skip it by pressing here if you hate the song.”

“How can I hate it when I can’t even hear it?” he innocently asked and you laughed.

“That’s why they invented these earphones, silly,” you giggled, and without waiting for his permission, you plugged in one earphone to his ear while you pressed the other one to your own. You moved a bit closer toward him and Taeyong fidgeted a bit from the distance. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you,” you said and you wondered since when did it begin to hurt you so much when you said those words? “But be very still, okay?”

“Oh, it’s playing.” Taeyong was astonished when the song started playing in his ear. It was a piece from Beethoven, a sound of violin combined with piano and cello. You explained everything to him, from the instruments, to the harmony, to the genius composers in the music industry. It was all new to him. “And what’s that sound?”

“That’s the sound of timpani,” you explained and when you glanced to the side, you realized how close you were to him. One wrong move and you could hurt him. You needed to be extra careful. It was probably best to move away, Haechan would’ve certainly told you so but just for one more second…

Let me be this close to you for one more second before I go…

“Wait, don’t change the song,” Taeyong said, snatching you away from your thoughts. Your finger stopped moving around the playlist. “I want to hear this one to the end.”

You grew quiet. There were over a hundred songs you had put into the music player and out of all of them, Taeyong had to choose this song. This one song that took you an entire night contemplating whether you should put it inside the device or not.

“This is the sound of a violin, right?” Taeyong asked, looking serious because of his mask but you dared to think that he was smiling underneath it. “It’s nice. It’s not as rich as the other piece that had timpani in it, but… It’s beautiful. I like this one.”

You stood up abruptly, your earphone detaching itself from your ear. “I—I have to go. It’s getting late.”

“Huh?” Taeyong was a bit startled. “Oh. Yeah…”

You stepped forward, not looking back at him or waved him goodbye like usual. Instead, you rushed forward with your head hanging low.

To think that he would like your song.

To think that he would say that your violin playing was nice.

To think that he would prefer your song better than any other ones there.

“Hey,” Taeyong called, and you froze before you slowly peered back at him. If he could see the blush on your cheeks and ask about it, you would lie and say that the lights were playing tricks on him.

“Thanks for these,” Taeyong said and the boy had taken off his mask. With that warm smile that almost matched the warmth of the sun drowning behind him, he waved his hand goodbye. “Until we meet next summer.”

***

“Why doesn’t he wear clothes?” You exasperatedly asked one day, in the middle of a blazing summer. It was your ninth summer together. You were fifteen-years-old, and Taeyong… Well, you never actually knew what his real age was but he still looked like he was around eighteen as always.

“Who, Haechan?” Taeyong asked, and the little golden fox lounging on his lap perked his ears at the question. Taeyong smiled a little and you, once again, whispered gratitude toward whatever it was that made him take off his mask that day. The boy placed his palm on the Fox’s head and stroke its fur. Haechan purred and leaned into the touch, his tails swaying happily behind him. “Haechan doesn’t like human clothes. He said they’re uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m uncomfortable seeing a grown man walking around naked and clinging to you like a possessive girlfriend—” Your sentence shortly ended with a shriek when a cloud of smoke exploded around you and you knew perfectly well what caused it.

“I’m not his girlfriend, you ugly monkey, but Taeyong-Hyung is mine!” Haechan, already standing in all of his naked glorious human form, shouted as he hugged him from behind, having one arm around Taeyong’s neck, and his chin being annoyingly close to the other boy’s shoulder. “And I’m not clingy because I want to. He’s just warmer than any other Spirits here and I happen to like warmth.”

“It’s summer.” You squinted your eyes menacingly, sounding remarkably irritated but still trying your best to hide the flustered look on your face because no matter annoying Haechan was, he was still a fully naked boy. “It’s like forty degrees out here, how much hotter do you want?”

Haechan actually had the knack to ignore you with a “Hmph!” while puffing out his cheeks and nuzzled his head against Taeyong’s palm. “You don’t find me annoying, do you, Taeyongie?”

Taeyong smiled and patted his head. “I’m already used to you being like this.” Haechan’s golden tail wagged excitedly in delight. “But you should put some clothes on, Haechannie. You’re making her feel uneasy.”

“I don’t care about that monkey girl!”

“What did you say, you stupid fox?!”

Both you and Haechan gritted your teeth, facing one on one in a glaring battle before your head nearly burst from being unable to contain the shame. Haechan was so naked, you couldn’t handle staring at him for a second longer than that. Haechan was cackling proudly for achieving victory.

“That’s not nice,” Taeyong scolded and Haechan only huffed, curling on the ground and laying his head on Taeyong’s lap.

“Of course,” Haechan grumbled quietly, plump lips turning into a pout. “Why should I be nice to a girl who can make you disappear anytime she wants? That’s ridiculous.”

You froze, heart dropping to your stomach, before you hugged your knees to your chest and half-buried your face in them. Taeyong was glancing at you for a second before he brought his eyes back to the boy on his lap and pinched Haechan’s nose.

“Hey, ouch!” Haechan batted his hand away, snarling. “What the hell was that for?!”

Taeyong didn’t utter a word but there was something… Some kind of tension that made Haechan pout angrily and mutter harshly in your direction. “Well, I’m sorry, okay?” Haechan heaved the loudest sigh. His ears went down dejectedly as he laid on his side. Taeyong’s hand had stopped long from stroking his golden hair. “I know you don’t mean any harm to Taeyong-hyung, but… I mean, I… I…”

You waited in silence as Haechan tried to form his words. He looked rather cute, trying desperately to draw the right sentence to apologize when he would pretty much prefer dying instead of doing so. Eventually, Haechan sat up, pointing rudely at you with his finger, and shouted, “All right, fine! You’re allowed to stay with my Taeyongie for now, but if you pull some kind of trick like trying to kiss him in his sleep again, I won’t forgive you, OKAY?!”

Both you and Taeyong jolted, hearts thumping loudly behind your ribcages.

He was watching?! But wait, Taeyong thought, he said she was trying to kiss me. So he wasn’t watching me when I tried to kiss her. But when did she…

Taeyong turned his head toward you at the same time you were averting your gaze from Haechan’s to his. Both of you blushed and immediately brought your eyes away.

“I—I should go.” You abruptly stood up, your knees wobbling under your weight. This is so embarrassing, I could die! “I’ll c-come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Huh?” Taeyong was not being himself, losing his composure. “Yeah, s-sure. I’ll—”

But you had already walked away from your spot, mentally slapping yourself in the face because oh God, no, now he knows. What should I do? How can I face him now?

“What’s up with that girl?” Haechan asked, raising an eyebrow as he draped his bare arms all over Taeyong’s body again. “I know she’s weird, but that was too weird, right?”

“Haechannie.”

Taeyong’s voice startled him a bit. “Y-yeah?”

“When you said…” Taeyong swallowed, the thought of him trying to kiss you in your sleep started to overwhelm him once more. Did she really do the same thing to me? When? “What you said before… Was it true? Did she really try to kiss me?”

It was saddening for him that Taeyong was paying more attention to you than to him again. Ever since you came into his life, all Taeyong could ever talk about was you. You were the reason behind his smiles, when it was used to be Haechan who brought warmth to Taeyong’s cold demeanor. “Well,” Haechan sighed in defeat. “To tell you the truth…”

With a dandelion flower tucked between his fox teeth, Haechan ran with all of his power to where Taeyong was. He moved his four legs as fast as he could, his golden tail swinging behind him. Being a small fox had its perks. He could easily jump from one tree to another, he could slip through narrow spaces, and Taeyong once said that he had soft fur that was nice to touch. Haechan truly adored that boy so as a token of his gratitude; he wanted to give him a dandelion flower—one that Taeyong loved the most.

Taeyongie! Taeyongie! I want to meet him! I want to give this to him!

So he ran faster, and faster, looking for him until Haechan saw his figure sitting next to a tree with his spine pressed against the thick trunk. From where he was, Haechan could only see his back.

Ah, there he is! Taeyongie!

He ran faster, crossing the field of grass to get to that spot, but only to find Taeyong sleeping with his bangs covering his eyes and his mask tossed to his side. Then there was you—the girl who always hung around him—kneeling in front of him with…

Haechan blinked. What kind of expression is that?

Your eyes were soft, your lips parted forming Taeyong’s name, and even from where Haechan was hiding behind the tree, he could tell that you were nervous. There was something different with the way you looked. Haechan usually saw you as an annoying, little clumsy girl who posed nothing but a threat to his dearest friend. But that day, he noticed how feminine you really were.

Has she… Haechan unconsciously thought, his heart racing a little. Has she always been that pretty?

“Please don’t wake up,” you whispered, your cheeks heating up. Then you leaned forward, pressing your palm to the grass next to his waist to prop your weight.

Wait! Haechan shouted in his head but he couldn’t will himself to move. Wait, what do you think you’re doing—

Then you closed your eyes and filled the spaces between you. Haechan wasn’t breathing at that moment. He couldn’t even think.

You were kissing Taeyong.

That girl! Haechan yelled in anger. If Taeyong disappears, I am going to kill—

“Hmm?” Taeyong’s voice came through his hearing. “Oh sorry, seems like I fell asleep. You came back already, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling at him before you stood up. “I was just going to drop this for you and leave since I thought you were sleeping.”

Haechan crawled a bit closer to take a look at what you were referring to. It was a handful of dandelion flowers—just like what he wanted to give him—with a white paper card laid upon them.

The paper! Haechan realized. Of course! She was using that when she kissed him!

You took the small paper card and laughed. “I was going to write something like ‘Make a wish for me’ or something but you already woke up.”

When Haechan looked back at Taeyong, the boy was staring at you in the same way you’d looked at him before. Those soft, gentle eyes. That adoring gaze. That longing stare.

Taeyong stood up, taking the dandelions off his lap and offered them back to you. “Why don’t we make a wish together?” he asked, smiling so tenderly that even you got startled for a moment.

“Okay!” you chirped merrily and you walked next to each other as you blew the dandelions one by one.

“What did you wish for?”

“World peace,” you answered with a grin. “You?”

Taeyong sneaked a glance toward the small gap that separated your hands from one another. “An ice cream,” he said, smiling back.

You tittered, oblivious about the actual thing he desired the most. “You’re so weird.”

Haechan watched from afar, hiding behind the shades of the tree before he eventually transformed into his human form, laid his back against the trunk and blew his own dandelion flower away. The seeds were swaying together with the wind, leaving him alone as Taeyong’s chatter began to wash away from his ears.

“Idiot,” Haechan muttered. “Stop being so obvious. You’re even making me embarrassed.”

“Haechannie?” Taeyong’s soft voice woke him from his reverie. Noticing how the boy hadn’t spoken for a while, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Haechan glared at him, shouting. “Nothing’s wrong! Just go die, you idiot!” Then he morphed back to his animal form, bit him in the nose and scurried off.

Taeyong hissed in pain, rubbing his nose. “Why is everybody leaving so suddenly today?” he sighed before throwing himself back to the ground, lying on the grass with the sun showering him with its light.

Ah, I want to see her again already.

***

Seasons changed and what was once warm air caressing your strands, had turned into soft snow prickling against your skin and coating your spine with shivers. You began to realize that the world became a little dull as you grew older. You stared at the glassy window in front of you with lifeless eyes, close enough to make the glass hazy with your warm breath. The school’s bell rang, indicating that your next class was about to begin but you kept standing still in the hallway, just staring at the cloudy weather.

A boy called your name—Mark Lee, you remembered well, from his big doe eyes and his messy raven hair. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the lab? Everyone already left.”

“Huh?” You blinked, still somewhat dazed until you noticed that Mark was already carrying his textbook, ready to move to the biology lab. “Ah, right!” You sputtered, turning on your heels to run toward your classroom but Mark caught you by the wrist.

“Here,” he said, giving you the note and the textbook you wanted to grab. “We’re going to be late, so I’ve brought your stuff with me. Let’s go.”

And if your thoughts weren’t so distraught, you would’ve noticed how Mark had been paying more attention to you than anybody else for the past few weeks.

But that was the problem. You had been having trouble focusing these days. Everything just seemed to pass by like a blur. During your next class, you didn’t pay any attention at all. It wasn’t like you were busy chatting or drawing random doodles on your note. You were just staring blankly at your textbook. Your eyes were half-lidded, your thoughts scattering all over the places.

At home, you hardly finished your dinner. Your mother scolded you as she thought her daughter was snacking before they shared sukiyaki at the dining table. You could only pout before you took your leave. You didn’t tell your mother that you had hardly eaten anything all day.

When the lights were off and you were settling down under your blanket in bed, you couldn’t sleep. You kept staring at your ceiling, part of your soul going somewhere else. Somewhere where it was warmer, brighter, with a stupid-looking cat mask in sight.

You eventually closed your eyes with the thought of gentle brown eyes staring at you behind silvery white strands.

Six more months left until I can see you again.

***

“Good morning.”

You exhaled from your mouth, creating visible puffs of air in the chilly weather. Your coat and scarf were clinging tightly to your body and yet you still felt cold. You never enjoyed the winter season. Or, any other seasons, for that matter.

“I said, good morning.”

You blinked. Your brain finally could process that someone had been calling you since a moment ago. “Oh,” you said, smiling politely. “Good morning, Mark.”

“Dozing off already?” Mark said, fixing the strap of his bag that was about to fall off his shoulder. “Isn’t it still too early for that?”

You could only laugh but even the sound of it felt empty to your ears.

“There’s frozen ice underneath your feet,” he warned, his voice sounded a bit muffled. Half of his face was covered with his checkered navy blue scarf. “Be careful.”

You stopped walking and noticed that you were indeed standing on asphalt-covered with black ice. It made a soft creaking sound when you tried to walk on it. It was too slippery.

“You’ll slip. It’s dangerous.” Mark took out his hand from the pocket of his brown duffle coat. “Come here,” he called, offering his hand. There were clouds of breath when he spoke.

Appalled, but only for a second, you then smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” You took his hand, but Mark was the one who held it tighter. He was warm and the texture of his palm was rough. You never knew that a boy’s hand could feel like this.

You were no longer walking on the frozen ice but Mark never let go of your hand. He just continued walking in front of you, dragging you gently by the hand. “It’s cold today, isn’t it?” he said and you wondered whether you should reply to a rhetorical question like that. You ended up saying nothing.

“Haven’t you been a little out of it lately?” Mark asked after the small awkward silence. “Actually, you’ve always been that way, but…”

His grip around your hand wasn’t exactly too tight or too loose, and it somehow felt nice so you were confused. Why weren’t you affected by it? Why didn’t you feel anything at all? Some other students who were passing you were staring, and both you and Mark would probably need to get ready to clarify dating rumors the second you arrived at class but you felt nothing. Nothing at all, except…

Mark’s mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear him over the loudness of your thoughts.

I want to see Taeyong.

I want to touch him.

I want to feel his hand on mine.

I miss him.

But you still had six months left before summer came.

It didn’t use to be a problem. But at that particular moment, as Mark began to lace his fingers more comfortably around yours, you thought that it hurt. Not seeing Taeyong was more than painful.

It was suffocating.

***

“Is that your new uniform?” Taeyong asked, leaning his shoulder to the tree near the stone stairs where you usually met. That was his first line after nine months of separation.

You timidly smiled, nodding with your fingers interlacing behind your back. You were wearing a white and dark blue uniform, indicating that you had become a high school student that year. You wore a hairpin to clip your bangs from falling over your face. Taeyong didn’t comment on it but he noticed how your hair had grown longer, and how he loved it now as much as he’d loved it then.

“Time really flies, doesn’t it?” Taeyong marveled, as you climbed up the stone stairs, walking to a deeper part of the forest. “You’re already in high school, huh?”

The cicadas were singing loud behind your backs. They always sang the loudest when it was hot. “Yup.”

You sat on the carpet of green grass near the pond. Pink lotuses were growing, blooming underneath the sun. Taeyong sat cross-legged, and you sat next to him with your legs folded carefully to guard your skirt against blowing because of the wind.

“You don’t come running at me anymore these days,” Taeyong chuckled “You were so clingy when you were a kid.”

“Of course not.” You scoffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after all the beatings you did.”

Taeyong stayed in silence so you eventually looked away and diverted your gaze toward the sky. “I’m really looking forward to it,” you said. “In three years, when I graduate, I plan on looking for a job here. Then, I can be with you more. In winter, in autumn, in spring… We’ll always be together.” Your voice became softer, just like the sheepish smile you displayed on your face. “Always, okay?”

Taeyong glanced back at you through the holes of his mask. You seemed so optimistic and bright; it was almost painful.

Because what were you doing exactly? You both knew this wouldn’t last. You weren’t supposed to be together. There was no way for you to be together without you hurting each other in the end.

It was just… Impossible…

When Taeyong called your name, his voice had lost its cheeriness. “Let me tell you about myself.”

You blinked. “Eh?”

“I’m not a spirit,” Taeyong said, sitting up better on the ground. “But I’m also no longer human. It seems like I was once a human, but when I was a baby, I was abandoned in this forest.”

Taeyong could no longer recall the memory back when he was a baby, being left all alone in a wooden basket in the middle of a haunted forest. “I’d only just been abandoned, so I cried helplessly, as if to call back the parents who left me.”

But Taeyong’s tone was no longer painted with agony. You wondered how many years had truly passed since the day he was abandoned for him to feel nothing when he spoke about it.

“They said I didn’t stop crying for a long time,” Taeyong said, and you noticed that he must have been talking about the Spirits. “It was until they placed this cat mask on my face that I began to laugh. I should’ve died then, but the Mountain God appeared and cast a spell that allowed me to continue living so that I never move on.”

Taeyong never once looked at you when he retold his story. “I’m like a ghost,” he said, and finally turned his mask-covered face toward you. “So, it’s okay if you forget about me.” You couldn’t find anything to say. Your mind was busy processing all the information you'd just received. “A body that’s maintained by magic is very weak,” Taeyong continued nonetheless as he stared at his own palm. “If it touches a real human body, the spell will break and the body will disappear. It’s such a fragile thing…” There was an obvious pain in his voice now. “Just how long can you—”

“Something that disappears when touched,” you immediately said, not wanting to hear the question escaping his lips. “It’s just like snow, isn’t it?”

This time, it was Taeyong who went speechless.

“You know, Taeyong…” You embraced your knees to your chest, staring at the pond. The light cast its reflection on your face, which to Taeyong only added more sparks to your beauty. “I thought of you during winter. And fall… And spring… I thought of you all the time, so...” You locked their gazes together as you smiled. “Don’t forget about me, okay? Don’t forget. Time might separate us one day, but still, until then, let’s stay together.”

Taeyong never once discussed it again. He decided that you were worth it. He would allow himself to be selfish. Whether he would disappear from your touch, or whether you would pass away on your deathbed even when he was still in his twenties, no one could ever know. But if he could spend that time with you, no matter how short it would be, no matter how much it would hurt, he would endure the pain. If it meant that he would stay together with you, he would crush his own happy ending. Because you had decided to let yours go.

And there was no way he would let you go down that road on your own.

***

“A spirit festival?” You asked, as you sat next to each other near the lake with your feet dipped into the water. Now eighteen, you felt closer to him more than ever. You secretly wondered if someone saw you walking together side-by-side, would they think of you as a couple?

“No, a summer festival held by the spirits,” Taeyong corrected.

“There’s not much of a difference.”

“The nuance is completely different.”

“Nuance?”

“When you were little, I thought you might get scared so I didn’t invite you. But tonight,” Taeyong stopped to showcase his grin. “Can you sneak out of your house? I’ve wanted to go with you for a long time…”

As if you could decline that tempting offer. “I—I want to go!” You exclaimed, jumping up to both of your feet.

“Then meet me at eight at our usual place.”

“But when you think about it,” you muttered, hand propping your chin as you ran through your mind. “A festival filled with Spirits sounds a little unnerving. On top of that, it’s at night.”

Taeyong took off his mask and you could see the sincerity behind his brown eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling handsomely. “On the outside, it’s not very different from a human festival. It’s supposed to mimic human festivals after all.” And at that time, his smile turned a bit sheepish. “And I will protect you, so…”

You felt like something just lit a fire behind your chest. “W-when you say things like that,” you said, eyes glancing away from embarrassment, “it makes me want to jump at you.” You wanted it to be a joke. You both knew that there was no way you would touch him underneath your conscience.

“Then do it,” Taeyong, in all of his seriousness, said, “I’m serious.”

You could only look at him with conflicted feelings.

***

The summer festival that was held by the Spirits inside the forest was indeed similar to the ones in the living world. Lanterns were lit up, surrounding the place with orange-colored lights that seemed normal enough for your eyes. But when you took a closer look, the fireballs behind the paper lantern were actually dancing. Spirits were everywhere around the place and this time, they didn’t look like ghosts or monsters. They were all disguised as humans, even wearing yukatas and wooden sandals but with masks over their faces—just like Taeyong. Not every Spirit managed to do well with their disguises, though. You could still spot some children with pig noses and cat tails, and you could see Haechan’s fluffy golden tails and matching fox’s ears on his head as he waved a hand and ran toward Taeyong with all of his strength.

Taeyong was wearing a dark grey yukata with his usual cat mask placed on his face, and the Fox boy jumped into his arms, winding his long limbs so naturally around his neck.

“Taeyongie!” Haechan chirped as he nuzzled his nose against Taeyong’s neck, despite them being full-grown men. The other boy pushed him away with one palm.

“Y-you’re wearing clothes,” you stammered, gaping at the sight that Haechan wasn’t actually naked at that moment. Instead, the boy was wearing a white yukata with golden obi around his waist. It matched his blond hair and golden ears perfectly.

Haechan groaned, “Oh man, don’t tell me that monkey girl is here with you to—” The rest of his words died on his tongue the second he checked your appearance. No longer wearing your summer dress, that night you were wrapped in a sky blue kimono with falling cherry blossoms painted around it. You had a salmon-colored obi around your waist, curving your body perfectly and you had your bangs clipped to the side, showing more of your face for them to admire.

“Hmm?” you asked, tilting your head slightly when you noticed that Haechan was staring without saying a word. “What is it?”

“You…” Haechan gulped before he took a step back and pointed a finger at you. Taeyong could blatantly see the blush on his face but you never paid attention to anyone besides Taeyong. “You’re so ugly, you almost made me puke!” Haechan screamed.

“Excuse me?!” You shouted back and Taeyong laughed when Haechan turned into his animal form, sending a small kick to her face—it wasn’t as painful as it was surprising—before he ran away like a scared little rodent.

“Why are you laughing?” You pouted, rubbing your slightly bruised cheek from Haechan’s attack. “God, he must have hated me so much. What’s his problem? And is he leaving his clothes just like this?!”

Taeyong couldn’t understand why you were so oblivious of Haechan’s feelings. But if it meant he could stare at your adorable confused face longer then he wouldn’t say a word to explain.

“Hey,” Taeyong called, bringing out a thin white scarf from his sleeves. “Tie this around your wrist. You’ll get lost if you don’t.” You obeyed right away, even humming happily as you did it. Taeyong tied the other end around his wrist as well. With that, you were connected to each other.

“It’s just like going on a date,” you said, giggling. Taeyong had brought his mask to the side of his head, so most of his face was shown when he smiled beautifully.

“It is a date,” he said, successfully sending your heart thrumming wildly against your ribcages. When you weren’t as flushed, you mirrored his little smile, wishing for your heart to beat at a slower pace so you could focus more on his beautiful features instead. Taeyong was so close and so handsome; it felt almost surreal for you to witness. “Shall we go?”

You shortly nodded and let him lead the way, a thin white scarf bridging the small gap between you. It’s funny how you weren’t exactly holding hands, but it felt just the same way. Your heart was racing, your thoughts were filled with him, and your never-ending smile, brighter than all the lanterns combined, was the proof of the joy you shared with him.

It was perfect. He was perfect.

There were fireworks, music, and dances. Everything looked so fun. Taeyong bought you cotton candy, but when you tried to take a bite, it flew towards the sky, morphing into clouds between the shining stars. Every time you laughed, Taeyong was grateful to be able to witness the beauty of it. It was so easy for your happiness to be his.

You walked around, checking some food stalls from one place to another, with him trying to match his steps with yours without you knowing. You wanted to buy a mask as well, perhaps one that looked similar to Taeyong’s. When a mask finally caught your interest—a tanned person’s face with his eyes crossed, you touched it to try it on but it turned out that it was an actual Spirit’s face, not a mask. Flustered, you had no choice but to run away, shouting “I’M SO SORRY!” and forcing Taeyong to follow you with chuckles reverberating from his chest.

Taeyong laughed more frequently that night than he had been the entire summer and you loved it. You loved the way he laughed without care. It was like firewood in the cold, darkest night—warming, bright, and beautiful.

“Ah, I had so much fun!” You cheered, still laughing slightly as you walked away from the festival. It was getting late and knowing how your uncle must have been worried for your well-being, Taeyong took you home. “Everyone really went all out with their disguises, didn’t they?” Your voice echoed through the night. “It was like a mimicking competition. You weren’t kidding when you said it’s supposed to imitate human’s festival.” No wonder his uncle’s friend Hyori had managed to sneak inside back then. “Is it like this every year?”

“Yeah, every time summer comes around…” But Taeyong’s voice suddenly lost its liveliness. And as you walked further away from the festival, the forest became dark once more, with only the moon and the stars illuminating your faces.

When Taeyong called your name, it was a mix of a longing sigh and a hushed whisper. Little frogs and insects were making sounds in the background and you could hear your steps matching his as you stepped on the grass, near your usual private pond. “I can no longer wait for summer to come around,” he softly murmured.

You turned your head toward him, glancing at the face of the boy you’d spent your entire summer with. Taeyong was wearing his mask again, and you wished he didn’t. You wanted to see his expression when he said those words.

“When I’m away from you,” Taeyong confessed, “even though I can’t be around the crowds, I want to go see you. Even though I knew it would’ve killed me, I was ready to step a foot outside this forest and run to you. Nine months are too long for me to wait for you.”

You almost reached out a hand to touch his, but you stopped before you got your wish. Instead, you sank your fingernails to your palm, hard enough to tear your skin apart so you could focus on the pain on your skin instead of the one in your chest.

Why does he have to be so close and yet so far away?

Then Taeyong suddenly stopped walking, lifting one hand to take off his mask and pressed it to your face. Before you could understand what was happening, Taeyong bent his head down and kissed the other side of the mask, right where your lips would be if there were no barriers between you. The thin mask was the only thing separating your lips from touching one another.

You froze, seeing Taeyong’s close-up face from the holes of the mask. As you’d guessed, Taeyong had long eyelashes. And he was so beautiful, so gentle, so young but with the expression of a man who spent hundreds of years in silence, yearning for other people’s touch.

Taeyong wasn’t really kissing you and yet, you still couldn’t breathe.

He pulled away after a few seconds had passed; smiling at you in the way it was almost breaking you apart but not quite.

Why does this feel like a goodbye?

“That mask,” he said, gazing straight at you. His smile never faltered from his lips, which only broke your heart even more. “You can have it.” And with him taking another step forward, you began to walk side by side again without uttering any other words.

He probably won’t come back to the place where we usually meet next summer. You pondered, hiding your face behind his mask. This is definitely our last…

“Hey, wait for me!” Two children passed by, running with their little feet and roaring into the night. The first boy managed to get a few steps ahead and his little sister was trying to catch up to him but she fumbled and slipped on her feet.

“Careful!” Taeyong shouted in reflex and reached out a hand to help her. With a hold around her wrist, he managed to prevent her from falling. The little girl smiled, showcasing her teeth and thanked him before she ran away chasing her brother again.

“Be careful, you guys!” You said and the two children waved their hands at you. You chuckled to yourself. I wonder if I was like that when I was a—

Taeyong’s sudden call of your name made you jolt. You hastily turned around, hoping to see him smile from the holes of the mask you had on your face, but instead what you saw was something more.

It was your nightmare.

Taeyong had his hand—the one he used to touch the little girl—stretched out in the air, staring at it with parted lips and wide eyes as his fingertips started to glow and slowly disappearing into thin air like fireflies vanishing in the night.

“Ta…” Your throat, your chest, it felt like fire was consuming every inch of you. “Taeyong..?”

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You wished you were dreaming. You prayed for it to be a dream. But Taeyong was really there, disappearing little by little in front of you and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t live without him in your life. How could just one touch of a hand do something like this?

“That girl was a human?!” You panicked, head throbbing loudly but the pain didn’t even come close to the aching you felt in your heart. What should I do? What should I do now?! I can’t lose him—I don’t want to lose him—

Taeyong!

The glow started to spread to his wrist, passing his elbow, to his chest and you wanted to scream stop! Don’t take him away from me! Please, stop! But Taeyong was smiling, so widely and beautifully and this time there was no trace of loneliness or secrets he tried to keep to himself like his usual smile. This time, he really did smile with all of his heart.

“Come here!” He called your name between his smiles, throwing his arms out for you to jump into. “I can finally touch you now.”

And you didn’t let a second to waste. You pushed the mask away from your face, facing him with a smile because that was what he deserved and then you hugged him, embraced him tightly with all of your strength, and you never wanted to let go. Taeyong looked so happy so you held your tears to yourself, no matter how much they burned behind your eyelids, and when Taeyong lifted your face and pressed a kiss to your lips, you curled your fingers on the back of his yukata.

Taeyong was so warm. And soft. And…

Gone.

You fell to your knees with his yukata held tightly against your chest. Your shoulders shuddered. Your chest felt like a thousand ice blades striking you at the same time. The clothing still smelled like him and yet, Taeyong was nowhere to be seen. He was consumed by the fireflies’ light and now there was no trace of him left.

I love you, you heard him said just a split second before he vanished. Faintly. Lovingly. Awaking every memory of the summers you’d spent together. That twig of oak bridging the distance between you. Those flowers you picked from the fields for him. That time when he ran to save you from falling. How lonely he’d looked from time to time. And how lonely you were when he wasn’t around. When Taeyong wasn’t there to spread happiness to your life.

And now he’s gone…

“Me too,” you sobbed as you held onto the piece of fabric he left from his final moment as if you were hanging on a thread that separated life from death. “I love you too.”

I love you so much, Taeyong.

And you let yourself cry, just this once, just for tonight. You would cry your heart out, screaming his name, telling him how much you loved him, just for this time only. Taeyong was the source of your happiness. Not even his death should change that.

When there were no more tears to cry, you got back to your feet and the first step felt so heavy. It was easier to just be drowned in silence, never have to get up again, never have to see the light of day now that his light had been taken away. But Taeyong wouldn’t wish for that to happen. He wanted you to be happy, with or without him.

So you picked his mask off the ground and embraced it tightly to your chest. There were murmurs of the Spirits around you, thanking you for being with Taeyong until the last moment of his life. They said Taeyong could only truly smile when he was with you.

Haechan appeared in front of you, wearing his previous white yukata with golden obi around his waist. His fox’s ears were down and his tails were no longer wagging behind him like always. His eyes were red and puffy, though he wasn’t crying.

“Taeyong-hyung wanted nothing more but to feel a touch of a human,” he said when you’d lost your voice to speak. “Being hugged by you before he vanished like that… I guess he wouldn’t have preferred anything else.”

You weakly smiled and reached up to stroke Haechan’s hair. The Fox boy seemed somewhat startled but didn’t move away. “He must have been happy,” you said, smiling with tears brimming in your eyes, “to have someone like you paying so much attention to him.”

Haechan brought his head down and you could hear soft sobs as he began to break down once again. He was biting his lip until it grew white, just to muffle his whimpers. You told him that it was all right for him to cry as hard as he could. After all, it was only normal. The pain of being left by someone you love… Taeyong must have understood it well.

I probably won’t be able to look forward to summer for a long time.

My chest will hurt.

My tears will be overflowing.

But this warmth in my hands and these summer memories will live forever in my heart.

I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

You smiled, kissing the temple of the mask and whispered, “Until we meet on the next life, Taeyong.”

***

It takes bravery to show up at the gate of the forest in your sleeveless white summer dress and you can feel your knees trembling underneath your weight but your resolve doesn’t dissipate. It’s been one year since Taeyong has vanished without a trace. Your heart still bleeds, but your tears are dry. And although it kills you to know that Taeyong is no longer there, waiting on the stone stairs like usual, you keep your smile intact, taking a seat close enough to the spot where Taeyong used to sit waiting for you.

“I’m here this year too, Taeyong,” you whispers, one hand being placed on the stone steps as if it was out for him to touch. “How are you?”

A soft wind blows, caressing your now longer hair and swiping warmth to your cheek. Lonely. You feel so alone. The cicadas are singing loudly as always but they don’t sound the same without the sound of Taeyong’s soft chuckles. You can no longer share stories with him, can no longer try to close the forbidden gap between you little by little. There’s nobody you can show your uniform to.

Don’t cry, you will yourself, hugging your knees tightly to your chest. Don’t cry. Taeyong wouldn’t want you to cry. You said you could do this, remember?

But it still hurts.

So you quickly open your bag and retract his cat mask from it. Placing it upon your face, you bask in what’s left of Taeyong’s scent as you close your eyes. This way, even if you end up crying, no one will see. If Taeyong is still here, or if he somehow stares down from heaven, he won’t be able to see you breaking apart.

“If you want to cry, just cry,” a boy suddenly sits down next to you, your shoulders brushing one another. “Idiot.”

You look to your side, feeling your breath stutter a little. “Haechan-ah…”

The Fox boy turns his head to face you as well but unlike Taeyong who greeted you with a gentle smile, Haechan was scowling. He has an apparent frown on his handsome human face, but although he is glaring, his nine tails betray him as they wag in elation behind him. “What are you staring at?” he says and flicks you on the forehead. It doesn’t hurt since he’s only grazing the mask, but it does make you move your gaze away.

Haechan still looks as young as always. His golden hair is still shining reflecting the sunlight, his ruby eyes are shimmering, and his sun-kissed skin still glows beautifully.

“You’re wearing clothes,” you comment, noticing the casual white shirt and the blue jeans he has on his body. He’s not wearing anything to protect his feet though.

“Of course, as if I would give you the reason to ogle at my perfect body,” Haechan spits back harshly and you don’t answer anything back. Eventually, it creates tension between you so he runs a hand through his hair and mutters, “Well, I mean… Taeyong told me it made you uncomfortable, so…” You still stay mute but for an entirely different reason.

“Thanks,” you finally say, your voice sounds a bit muffled because of the mask.

Haechan feels his face growing hot and he grits his teeth to wash it away. “You’re being gross, stop it,” he raves and yet his tail sways faster behind him as his ears perk up in joy. You can finally understand why Taeyong was fond of him. Despite his snarky attitude, Haechan is shy and he’s never honest when it comes to showing his feelings, but his body often betrays him. He has his own charm.

So you laugh—softly, quietly, unfamiliar to your own ears, but it’s a start. “I’m sorry.”

Haechan huffs and fixes his red eyes to the sky. The clouds are moving, changing shapes and he secretly wonders what would Taeyong say at times like this. “I thought you wouldn’t come this summer,” he murmurs.

“I thought I wouldn’t too,” you admit. “But I realized in the end, even though he’s gone, it doesn’t mean he can’t still live in my memory. I think when someone dies; it doesn’t really mean that they’re gone. The difference is that we can’t physically see them anymore, so as time goes by, we begin to forget. And once we forgot about them, then I guess that’s when someone truly dies.” You take off your mask, turn it around on your palm and stare at the cat’s two-round, lifeless eyes. “I can’t see Taeyong anymore but I won’t let him disappear from my thoughts. He’s now living in my memory and I will keep it that way. He’s already a part of me now—of who I have become.” Your lips curve up as you rub your thumb along the cat’s whiskers. “I’m sorry for saying such weird things. I must have bored you by now.”

But unbeknownst to you, Haechan is staring at you with admiration in his eyes. He never knew you had such a complex personality.

Even though she’s a human. Even though she’s just a human.

“You know, for Spirits like us,” Haechan says, “Humans have always been nothing better than something to eat. It’s not worth having a relationship with them. You can’t befriend someone who will pass away in a blink of an eye. Spirits like us can live for hundreds of years. And you, people like you, can barely even reach a hundred. Becoming attached to something so fragile will only hurt us, that’s why we try to never look at humans as someone to be friends with. Just like humans in general, we’re afraid of getting hurt.”

Your eyebrows are knitted together, can barely understand why is Haechan telling you these things.

“I saw Taeyong-Hyung when he was with you,” Haechan utters, and this time he smiles at the memory of his friend. He looks much younger like this. “He was happy. Perhaps happier than I’d ever seen him. That’s probably why I decided not to eat you.”

“You wanted to eat me?”

“A few times, yeah.”

“Even though you were so startled when Taeyong suddenly sneezed and almost ran for your life like a little scaredy-cat?”

“That’s—” Haechan blushes madly. “That’s different!”

You place a hand over your mouth, covering your small laughter. “Okay, okay,” you said and Haechan feels a tweak in his heart again. Humans are such fragile beings, he wonders, maybe that’s the reason why I want to protect her so badly?

He quickly shakes the thought away, blushing even deeper. Get a grip on yourself, you idiot!

“Well, Haechannie.” You stand up from the spot you’ve been sitting on, smoothening down your dress. “I’m supposed to head over to my uncle’s house now. I don’t want to make him worry.”

“Oh…” Haechan blinks, standing up as well. “Right, of course.”

You’re appalled at how taller he is now. Even when you’re standing up straight, you can only reach a little above his shoulder line. “Are you still growing?”

“Huh?” Haechan takes a look at himself. “Oh. Yeah, maybe.” And you want to comment on that but you’re distracted by the look of Haechan’s fox ears going down. “Are you…” he looks away, somewhat hiding his lips behind the back of his hand. His cheeks are burning redder by the second. “Are you going to come back here tomorrow?”

The wind is probably playing tricks to your ears, that’s why you’re hearing some weird stuff right now. “What?”

“Ah, damn it!” He groans, his blush now expanding to the tip of his ears. “I said, are you going to come back here tomorrow or not, you stupid monkey girl! Don’t make me say this thing twice, it’s freaking embarrassing!”

It takes another two seconds for you to process before you burst out laughing. He’s so childish; it’s somewhat adorable. “If you want me to, I will,” you reply, wiping small tears away from your eyes.

Although Haechan’s ears perk up instantly at your answer, he keeps muttering rudely, “Well, don’t expect me to wait here for you or anything, okay? Today is special but I won’t do it tomorrow.”

“Huh?” You nearly break out into laughter again. “You were waiting for me today?”

By this point, Haechan’s practically combusted into flames. “SHUT UP, YOU MONKEY GIRL!” In a split second, he transforms into his animal form, creating musky grey mist all around you, and he bites your nose before he scurries away. His golden tail still wags happily behind him as he runs off.

Rubbing your nose from the itching pain, you grin with your teeth shown and waves your hand goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Haechannie!”

“It’s Donghyuck!” His voice can be heard but he’s nowhere to be seen. “My real name is Donghyuck. You better memorize that!”

Donghyuck… Somehow, you could feel your heart warming in the way it hasn’t been for a year long. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow, Donghyuck…”

Your summer is changing. The feeling is different though something hasn’t quite changed. You still miss Taeyong, terribly so. There will probably no way you can stop missing him. After all, they said first love lasts forever, right?

But I’m doing fine, Taeyong. There are still many things for me to do so I will move on, little by little. No matter how long it would take for me to be able to remember your name without hurting; to remember your smile without regretting not being able to kiss your lips longer; or to remember the days we spent together and not crying over them—I will heal.

Time will no longer be our enemy. It will be the one to erase my pain.

I will heal.

***

Dear Taeyong,

I miss you.

I miss you a lot.

I miss you to the point of shedding my tears.

But I will not wish for you to come back.

After all you never truly left me, did you?

I remember everything.

I still remember everything.

Even if ten years have passed, even if twenty, even if a thousand years have gone by, as long as I’m still alive, I promise you until my dying breath that I will remember you.

You are still the beautiful reality in my sleep.

The blissful dream in my wake.

I am still here, in the place where we usually meet.

I am not waiting for you—I know you wouldn’t want that.

But I am here because of you. Because you remind me of summer. Of joy. Of faith. Of love. Of a bittersweet goodbye.

Everything about you brings smiles to my face, even if our first embrace ended without time waiting for me to keep your warmth. Even if our kiss never left an aftertaste on my lips.

It’s all right. It’s enough.

No matter where you are now, Taeyong… Be happy.

I will meet you again in our next life.

Maybe by then, we can set our promise not by words, but by our fingers lacing together.

And maybe by then, you can stroke my hair when I cry.

And every time we part, I will let you take my farewell words from my lips.

Take my breath, if you must. After all, they’re yours. Everything about me is yours.

I love you.

I love you so much.

I love you despite everything that separated us. Time, distance, age, even a single touch—Nothing can make me tired of loving you. I love you. I have never loved anyone else but you.

I am forever yours.

***

My Love,

I miss you too.

I miss you so much.

I miss you to the point of breaking apart.

And I’m glad you don’t wish for me to come back.

I don’t think it would’ve done us any good.

I still remember you.

I will always remember you.

Even if I no longer have a body, even if not even my ashes remain, even if the fireflies decide to abandon me, I will remember you.

Listen to me, my dear.

Even if I had the chance to choose, I still wouldn’t change a thing.

I’d prefer not to be able to touch you, to feel your warmth, or to taste your lips,

rather than not be able to fall in love with you.

I’d rather be consumed with these feelings I have for you,

rather than being burned by a passion that would be over after the summer end.

This is all right. This is enough.

So no matter what happens next… Be happy.

For I do not wish for anything else.

I have no regrets.

You have given me everything I’d asked for.

You have given me more than I could ever imagine.

I have never desired anything until I met you.

I am eternally grateful for our meeting.

Even if we had to separate for nine months each year, I have enjoyed every little second that we spent, from sunrise to sunset even if it was only three months a year.

I will see you in our next life.

And by then, I will place a ring around the finger you lace with mine.

And by then, I will kiss the tears away from your eyes.

And we will never part, but I will seal your lips with mine from saying those farewell words.

I love you too. I wouldn’t have understood love if it wasn’t for you. My whole life wouldn’t have meant something if it wasn’t for you.

Until we meet again, my love.

I am forever yours.

***

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years ago

Note

In a recent malarklina post you mentioned having many headcanons 👀 Care to share with the class?

So I went over some character hcs for the three of them in this post! But here are a few that are specifically Malarklina. (Some of these are set in an Immortal!Mal AU and some aren't, sorry if it gets a bit confusing).

Aleksander has a competency kink and is attracted to Alina showing off her sun powers and Mal showing off his tracking abilities.

Alina makes them both little suns that follow them around to always light their path. This is especially meaningful to Aleksander, although he'd never admit it, because he used to be afraid of the dark as a child.

Mal reminds Aleksander of Luda, and he often goes into depressive states when considering the fact of Mal's mortality. Once Alina fully grasps the reality of the situation, she often suffers from them as well. During these times, Mal tries to be there for them as much as he can, but it's a heavy burden to bear alone.

They all have difficult relationships with gender and sexuality and at one point actually end up sitting down (completely by accident, because Aleksander is allergic to emotions) to talk about this aspect of their lives in more depth.

Aleksander usually sleeps in the middle because he's a) touch-starved and b) an attention whore, but they switch it up on occasion.

Mal is the most clingy sleeper in the history of sleepers. Aleksander and Alina have both woken up on more than one occasion to Mal literally laying fully on top of them and wrapped around them like an octopus. Aleksander likes the weight and usually just snuggles in deeper but Alina has to wiggle out of the way most of the time so she can breathe.

Mal likes Aleksander with short hair but Alina likes him with long hair. This is the source of many fights in their relationship, none of which Aleksander is actually apart of.

Alina and Aleksander both like Mal with longer hair and so he's press ganged into growing it out.

Mal and Alina love every single song Aleksander hates.

When Mal pisses Aleksander off it's no sex for a day even after a dozen apologies, but when Alina pisses him off all she has to do is say sorry and he'll just eat her out right then, not a care in the world.

Aleksander is very physically affectionate, but Mal and Alina have phases of liking it and disliking it, so they have to balance a way to take care of each other's needs without pushing boundaries.

Aleksander is directionally challenged because I said so and Mal and Alina constantly have to make sure he doesn't get lost.

Kissing scars has become a very intimate practice between them all.

Aleksander keeps an obsessively clean house but Alina's paint supplies get everywhere, that paired with Mal just shucking off his hunting outfits anywhere in the house and dumping his gardening/hunting supplies wherever's most convenient means that Aleksander is in a constant state of annoyance about their living situation.

Alina makes a Rule about Mal and Aleksander fighting after Mal straight up tackles Aleksander off the side of the roof when they're trying to figure out how to replace shillings.

They all spar with each other at least once every other day. This mostly started as a means of keeping themselves sharp in case of danger, but it quickly became a bonding routine of sorts. Turns out Aleksander has a lot of information stored up about fighting. That paired with Mal's military training makes for some very intense spars as well as the rapid growth of all three of them into some of the most dangerous fighters on the planet.

@mal-zoya now has me convinced that it will take at least 500 years for Mal and Aleksander to admit they love each other.

Aleksander likes it when they wear his clothes. Alina likes wearing Mal and Aleksander's clothes. There is a lot of clothing sharing going on. It gets to the point where the only way they can tell who's clothing is who's is based on color scheme and the quality of the cloth and occasionally (but not always) the size as well.

Mal and Alina infodump all the time about their passions and Aleksander eats it up. He loves it. He thinks his partners are the smartest people in the universe.

When Alina is suffering from artist's block she goes to Aleksander for inspiration. When she's inspired she goes to Mal to create.

Mal is generally the one who cooks all of their meals because Alina will get distracted when she's going on an art spree and Aleksander will just straight up forget he's a human sometimes. But when Mal doesn't do it Aleksander does it because he has Standards and he's not about to let his partners starve to death, thank you very much.

Aleksander and Mal used to cook plainer foods in the beginning of the relationship but they both slowly shake off some of the chains of their upbringings and previous ways of life to slowly try out more elaborate and lush recipes. Alina has come home on more than one occasion to see them collaborating on a new recipe Aleksander managed to flirt/finagle out of one of the old ladies from the nearby village.

Alina likes to ride out every day and sometimes ropes Aleksander or Mal into going with her. There are lots of picnics and packed lunches in their life. When they go to an especially scenic spot, she'll sit there for hours and draw.

Mal won't ever be able to fully understand the meaning of Alina's immortality. It would be impossible to, even with many explanations and having to deal with Aleksander's own traumas as a result. But that doesn't stop him from attempting to learn as much as he can to make things easier for both of his partners.

Alina attempts to join the local ladies' knitting group in the nearby village but hates it. Aleksander, on the other hand, finds it to be the most valuable source of gossip in the village. He rapidly becomes a part of the club and returns home with boatloads of gossip by the day. Alina and Mal have no idea what to do with literally any of this information, but Aleksander certainly does. Getting involved in small town drama is, in his opinion, one of the best things he ever decided to do. Mal and Alina are beginning to think he needs some therapy.

Mal starts a little farm outside of their cottage and Alina starts a flower garden. Alina also begins to amass a small library over time, with the help of Aleksander "is this an original text?! maybe so" Morozova. Mal is not expecting to come home one day to an entirely new room built into the house and a massive collection of books lining the walls.

Alina and Aleksander will use their powers actively all day. In fact, they both get so comfortable with summoning that they just start letting their emotions affect their summoning all the time. And so Mal has a very good indicator for whether or not his partners are upset or happy based on the way the shadows and lights flicker, much akin to the way people judge how their cats are feeling based on what their tails are doing.

Also, though, Mal just feels proud that they both trust him enough and feel comfortable enough around him and in their home to feel as if they don't need to watch themselves constantly.

Alina still likes mapmaking and, after a few years of peace where she starts to get restless, she slowly begins to do it again. Every two months or so she'll go out on a long trip to map a few of the nearby areas. She quickly builds up a side business of selling her personal maps to the people of whatever town they're living near.

Aleksander eventually opens up enough to share some of his past with Alina and Mal. He especially begins to engage more with the pieces of his culture that he had to forsake in order to assimilate over the years. Alina and Mal are always more than willing to help him puzzle through a half remembered recipe or a phrase in his native tongue that he's partially forgotten. They feel honored every time he shares a small piece of his history with them.

Nightmares are a common occurrence between all of them and whenever one happens a cuddle pile of epic proportions ensues. Also sometimes they talk about feelings have some pillow talk to work through things. Aleksander will also sometimes sing them back to sleep. His lullabies are haunting, but his singing voice is beautiful, and it usually does the trick. He refuses to sing for them outside of these moments, however.

Alina adores the height difference between her and her very tall partners. She thinks its fucking stellar.

Alina and Mal start up an orphanage on many occasions throughout the centuries. Alina loves kids and constantly helps them when she can. She mourns the fact that she won't ever be able to adopt without having to watch them grow old without her.

They've all discussed having kids at multiple points throughout their lives, and they all want to do so. But Aleksander wants to wait until Grisha persecution is no longer even the hint of an issue. Alina and Mal agree to wait, largely because they want some time to think on it too.

Mal tries to teach Alina how to shoot one day and she accidentally clips Aleksander as he's coming outside with lunch. He never lets her live it down and on more than one occasion attempts to use it for sympathy points, even hundreds of years later.

Aleksander is both the big spoon and the little spoon, but he likes being the big spoon (in reality he's a knife, of course). Mal likes being the little spoon but is often relegated to the big spoon, and Alina likes being both.

Alina paints a portrait of Mal and Aleksander cuddled up in bed once and no matter how much they entreat her to burn it she absolutely refuses to do so.

Aleksander is basically a walking, talking source of illegal activity, and he can't be taken anywhere anymore without expecting some sort of crime to take place.

Alina tries to adopt a little black cat one day and Aleksander gets outrageously jealous. He spends about two months being bitter, then another two months trying to chase it off, but the creature stays with them all until it dies of old age (and he'll never admit to privately grieving it's loss, although Mal and Alina both know it).

All of their communication skills are absolutely atrocious but Alina is the best. Mal is the second best. Aleksander doesn't even rank. Over time, they get into the habit of it, though. They practice at it painfully for years until they reach the point where healthy communication becomes second nature.

Mal proposes to Alina one day (after much talk between all three of them) and they get married. A couple years later they both propose to Aleksander (after zero talk, he is suitably surprised and also maybe a bit teary eyed). They have an illegal wedding on holy ground at midnight with a bribed and essentially kidnapped pastor.

Aleksander spends an excessive amount of money on Alina and Mal. He buys them things constantly and lavishes them with gifts. Alina loves it but it grates on Mal for a time until he realizes it isn't a means of manipulation as much as a love language and a shoddy attempt at communication and expressing feelings.

Once they reach the modern world (in an Immortal!Mal AU), they all get phones and send each other the most cursed texts in all of history. The group chat is a hellspace and the individual chats are just pure shittalking. Nowhere is free.

Shopping in the modern world consists of chaotic impulse buys and the excessive waste of money. They're all each other's impulse control, but they can't always go out together at the same time, so it's usually only in groups of two. Which means that when Alina's gone, Aleksander fills the cart with sweets. And when Mal is gone, Alina fills the cart with an inordinate amount of bananas (which are new) and microwavable easy to eat meals and paint supplies and oh! look at these pretty notebooks on display!. And when Aleksander is gone the cart its legitimately just a free for all. He comes home and there's mincemeat and apple pies cooking for some reason. Mal has a new apron. The fire alarm has been replaced. Turns out they stopped at an ikea on the way back and now they have a better dining table.

Alina is the best driver of them all. Aleksander goes way too fast but he never crashes. Mal refuses to even step foot in a car for about half a decade.

Aleksander is actually the one that gets into makeup. He quite enjoys it and thinks maybe his partners need to live a little for once. They both very firmly disagree.

Alina loses the tv remote constantly and it drives Mal absolutely wild. Sometimes Aleksander will steal it just to watch Mal go into a frenzy looking for it.

Alina builds up a large following for her art (and the art of her 'ancestors') over the centuries. Modern day Alina is basically famous, but luckily nobody knows her face.

#okay this got too long i had to stop alsjdflkjds #i got very carried away im so sorry #some of these are just plain aus but I Do Not Care #asks and answers #anon #malarklina #mymetas #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #malyen oretsev #darklina #malina #myramblings #alina x darkling x mal #myhcs

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liquid-luck-00 · 4 years ago

Text

Connections 6

Chapter 6

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grandfather hated soulmates and the entire league shared that sentiment. His Mother was glad for the fact that he did not have any soul mark. That was good he wasn’t tied to anyone; he didn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t until he was six that something changed, and he was thankful that he was alone in his room when it happened. A thought fluttered through his mind alone he instantly recognized was not his own.

An invisible bond. My soulmate will be affected by the *********** magic that affects me. They are my other half; I have to protect them.

“Tt” Damian allowed to be stated aloud. Protect me huh, as if! That was when it occurred to him I have a soulmate.

Damian bolted up and sat straight. If I have a soulmate and I just heard their thoughts. Well if this was their thoughts. Do they know mine. Damian was beginning to become infuriated with this new piece of knowledge, what struck him as odd was the fact that he felt like something was missing in the thought. It was as if that last piece could help him understand this peculiar event. In that moment, his mother came into his room.

“Damian it is time to go” His mother snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pushed this into the back of his mind. He followed his mother, and this was simply filled away in his mind under things that were useless or frustrating.

---

It wasn’t until three years later would his bond would infuriate him again. As far as he knew nothing was out of the ordinary. No one batted and eye when he already knew how to handle guns, they simply praised him for being a natural and he himself did not think of it either.

But then he had to get ready for the Lazarus Ritual. His mother came to retrieve him and then everything changed. He remembered walking behind his mother blinked and he was sitting in a large room. In his lap was a book filled with drawings. Wait what the Hell was he wearing. He looked at his hands and his skin was lighter, he was wearing a wait is this a skirt. Then he looked up and saw this thing. It was this little red blob with a black spot on its forehead between clear blue eyes. That was when he began to scowl.

The question left his lips before he could process anymore “Maza ank (What are you)?” he practically spat continuing still “Ayn anna (Where am I)?” the blob seemed to only stare in shock.

The little thing looked at him and then smiled. Why would it smile. “I’m Tikki and it is nice to meet you, soulmate to my chosen” it seemed to choose its words carefully, wait why did it respond in English. But it answered half of my question he was about to respond but this Tikki spoke again “As to where you are, I am not at liberty to say.”

He decided to shift to English as this creature seemed to speak it “What is the meaning of this soulmate to your chosen rubbish?”

“just as it sounds you are the soulmate of my chosen. You being here is a result of your bond.” He scowled and stared at the blob and it sighed. “You have an invisible bond but because your other half is my chosen you both have a bond different than anyone else’s on the planet.” He began to scowl harder if that was even possible. “this bond will only continue to grow but know that what one learns the other knows as well. I am assuming it is because of you that my chosen knows how to fight.”

This pulled at Damian’s interest they know how to fight because of me then what do I know because of them. He looked at the blob again and decided to ask “does your chosen know how to handle firearms, before today?” he half hoped he was wrong because if they did his soulmate may just be as dangerous as him if not more if this creature was anything to go off of.

It was quiet and then it nodded “yes my chosen has known how to handle firearms for years now.”

Shit. Well at least I know that they can handle themselves.

“I believe our time has come to an end. Until we meet once again soulmate of my chosen.” It spoke as he blinked and then he was standing on a balcony cliff overlooking the Lazarus pit as they took his grandfather out to his chambers. He dimly remembered his mother calling him and leaving him in his quarters. Then the memory of the ritual surfaced. It was odd he was watching it but it felt detached from himself almost like a video recording, there was no feeling just the ritual and the proceedings but he felt nothing from it.

---

Mari was going through her sketchbook talking about what she was planning for her dad, she blinked and she was walking behind a woman, her aura was deadly so she schooled her emotions and presented a blank face almost bored and then they exited the dark halls into an outcrop balcony of sorts overlooking a large cavern with a pool of bubbling acid green water on the other side.

She scanned the cave and then she noticed several people dressed in all black surrounding another man. From her vantage she saw a cruel face that was surrounded by black and white hair and beard. His eyes were the same acid green as the water and the aura around him as well. He wore a regal robe in a deep crimson accentuated by black and gold designs.

The cruel mad began to speak and she understood it as being Arabic.

“All here are to bear witness to the revitalization of the Demon Head. By the power of the Lazurus Pit…” more was said and then Marinette watched as the man took the robe off and stepped into the Pit. He completely submerged and the water glowed a sickly green and then he remerged. He put on the robe and continued to speak.

Mari knew that what she just witnessed was an abuse of the magic in the water, and she forced herself to remain impassive. She knew that everyone in the room would turn on her if she showed any emotion that would betray her. And then it hit her she knew no one and was talking with Tikki sitting in the parlor of Wayne Manor so how did she end up here. She watched as the man with cruel eyes left and she blinked again and then she saw Tikki staring at her expectantly, and she simply shook her head, Tikki looked sad and then Alfred came in.

“Miss Mari” he tried to get her attention kneeling next to her on the couch, but she simply stared straight forwards. Everyone came into the room trying to find out why Alfred sounded frazzled.

Then she looked up and stared at Jason, she finally found her voice and asked “J… Jay… Jay-Jay why are… why are you covered in chaos magic” everyone was staring at her so she tried asking another way. “Why are you covered in magic from the Lazarus Pit?” everyone looked scared and now Mari was confused as well.

“How do you know that name, Mari?” Tikki asked her, breaking the silence.

“I” she didn’t know how to explain what just happened to her “I just heard it, I saw it, it was it was like a ritual”

“Tikki is this normal for a miraculous holder” Bruce asked looking at Tikki hoping for an answer

Tikki simply shook her head “No it isn’t. seeing the Lazarus arura is for a Ladybug, but this knowledge is not normal…” then she stopped ad gave Mari a knowing and sad smile. “Mari do you think?” Tikki didn’t have to finish the question for Mari to understand.

As Tikki asked her everything seemed to fall into place she was close to crying from fear or joy she didn’t know. “it might be, it’s the most logical.”

“What does this incur exactly?” Alfred spoke from kneeling beside Marinette.

“Her soulmate” Tikki said and that left everyone quiet once again. “Mari knows how to fight, that much you know but what you don’t is that she has never had any type of training. The same goes for several languages she has never studied, she can read a person’s body language without any difficulty, and now this.” Everyone was staring at her now almost like they knew something that she didn’t and that scared her.

Bruce kneeled down and pulled Mari into a hug. And whispered in her ear quiet enough so no one else heard but her “I’ll explain but for now it is okay to cry if your scared something must have happened for this to affect you so much”

Her eyes widened in surprise before she began to cry, and Bruce took her in his arms and together with Tikki left the parlor to her room.

---

Once they were in Mari’s room Bruce wrapped her in a blanket and sat next to her on the bed when the door opened. There stood Jason in front and right behind him were Dick and Tim, further in the hallway was probably Alfred. Bruce glared at them and they closed the door and heard several pairs of feet leave.

Bruce sighed and shared a look with Tikki before he spoke “Pixie do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?”

She shook her head no “not completely, no.”

“What do you know?” this time Tikki spoke.

“I could tell it was filled with magic. It was a pool of bubbling acid green water.”

“you said it was like a ritual can you explain” Bruce tried to keep his voice level. He had hoped to never have to explain this to Mari, Mari looked down into her lap and Tikki flew into her sights.

“He said it was a Revitalization Ritual. Something about a Demon”

He was surprised when Tikki started to speak. “The Lazarus Pit was created by a wish combining the miraculous of the Ladybug and the Black cat. The Ladybug magic allows anyone touched by the water to be revived, healed, and extends their life. It was created by the first wish. However, the Black cat’s magic breaks the soul of the person it touches, thus making them quick to anger and dangerous there is only one exception, but it is more of a rumor as it has never happened.”

Bruce asked without thinking “Can you heal someone from the pit after they come back?” If this is true we can help Jason.

“It is possible, but it would only be stated in the grimoire, and it was lost along with the peacock and Butterfly miraculous” Bruce couldn’t help the small frown but it was soon replaced by shock as little Mari hugged him.

“We will help Jay-Jay with or without magic” Bruce let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and hugged Mari.

“I know” he then looked at the girl and he now continued. “The Pit is controlled by a group called the League of Assassins and the Demon you heard of is a man by the name of Ra’s al Ghul.”

Mari looked pensive “Tall, cruel acid green eyes with black and white hair and beard” she stated as if recalling something.

Bruce just looked at her shocked “yes” he couldn’t believe this how did sweet little Mari meet such a man. “How. How do you know him?”

“I saw him during the ritual” this just brought up more questions, but all his questions died on his lips as he saw Tikki rise.

“Mari you swapped with your soulmate today” she stated it as a fact as if she knew and was confirming it. Mari nodded her head, and Tikki sighed. “I spoke with them while you were swapped it happened right before Alfred came into the room. They were direct and to the point, and I don’t think they knew that they even had a soulmate until today.”

This was news but then again knowing Ra’s despises weakness any assassin in training under him would as well. It also figures if it is an invisible bond, they are so rare that there is very little known how they interact with the soul. In this moment he knew that he would protect the little pixie in front of him wrapped up in a blanket, and he knew that her ‘Brothers’ would protect her as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist🐞🦇

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marisandini-chu-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Bruce Wayne is a Simp for Bad Bitch

OmG I can’t believe I’m writing the obvious but the idea is in my head and I need a place to word vomit.

Okay, so it occurred to me that Bruce has a more serious and intense relationship canonically with three women, as far as I know; Andrea Beaumont, Talia Al’ghul, and Selina Kyle. All of whom are the epitome of Bad Bitch with the capital B. (Yes, I’m ignoring Rachel Dawes from Nolanverse. The only thing I like about it is the Iconic Joker. No batman movie is good enough without the Batfam.)

Why do I raise this point, you might ask? Well, that’s because I want to rant that Bruce, my boy, my man, my childhood comfort character is actually a SIMP?!?!

Like... I’m just... urgh.... okay... I am very vocal for a healthy relationship with commitment and based on mutual love and respect. So the fact that Bruce has only bad, iffy, or casual relationships really want to tear my hair out. And why my heart don’t want to ship with any of them, even though BatCat is one of my favorite pairing!

I am a WonderBat shipper because I love watching them in JLAU as a kid and even though I’m not slash shipper unless it’s canon, SuperBat made much more sense to me. Heck even a threesome with the Trinity would have been healthier relationship rather than whatever Bruce had with the three of them and here’s why:

You might not have heard of Andrea, but she’s canon from the Timmverse movie called Batman and the Mask of Phantasm which is A REALLY GREAT MOVIE. Totally recommend. One of the best Batman movie at all times (Yes, I say Batman movies not Batman Animated movies). Has great plot twist and good pacing. so Spoiler Alert! Andrea was Bruce’s fiancé, making her possibly Bruce’s first love, before his journey and possibly could have stop him from becoming Batman (I would say he’s a simp in this case, but he would have had a much more happier, healthy household so it’s not bad thing) if she hadn’t disappear for being a Mob Boss’ Daughter!!!

I repeat, a mob boss’ daughter.

And she came back only to be a mask avenging assassin that went toe-to-toe with Batman.

And she could have choose to stay with Bruce but she didn’t because she choose vengeance over him. Like.... Bats, you should stop with the “I am Vengeance” routine you’ve got going on because she does it better than you ngl.

So she left and I cried at the end of that movie because trauma wasn’t enough, you put heartbreak after heartbreak to my boy. Thanks DC.

Then there’s Fucking Talia Al’ghul which is a no brainer why she’s not Bad but BAD. Like, Talia groom Jason, supervise Damian’s harsh, brutal, and abusive training, control Damian through the implant spine to kill Dick, orders Damian execution before regretting it, DRUG BRUCE when CONCEIVING DAMIAN!!! And that’s only the top of my head.

And if you want to blame it on Morrison’s writing, THAT’S FINE. We’ve bitched about Tom King’s writing enough to know it’s valid.

But, BUT, bUt... it needs to be address that even before Morrison, Talia CHOOSE to stay in the League of Assassin. People can tell me that she’s a complex character that’s loyal to her father but love Bruce and that her upbringing makes her complicated or whatever. Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make Talia helpless when it suited you. Talia is a fucking Bad Bitch (TM). She’s been taught to do whatever the fuck she wants according to her belief and ideal. At some point, Talia knew she wanted to be in position of power in the League rather than staying with Bruce.

But it’s canon that Talia, if I remember correctly, doesn’t like Gotham or Bruce’s mission. She thinks being a hero is beneath them or whatever. And doesn’t understand why Gotham is special to Bruce. So yeah, you might not agree how Morrisons write her. But do not fucking tell me she’s not a character who will not be willing to do what she thinks it’s necessary to get what she wants, including training her son as an assassin. I mean, she likes being the Demon’s Daughter in the league. She may not agree with her father but Talia wants to give Damien what she wants. Power.

Talia loves Bruce. That’s a fact. He’s probably the only person that makes her feel like she’s a person instead of the Demon’s Daughter. Bruce has a knack for that. To make people want to be better, even just a little. Talia could have chosen him, if she wanted to. The fact that she helps him so much when fighting against her father numerous times is proof enough.

I'm highly suspecting the reason she stays is because she knows Bruce would always forgive her (SIMP ALERT) unlike her father who would straight up stab her if she ever betrays him.

I’m not saying there’s no love for her son, I’m just saying if she even looks at the batfam funny than I will raise my flamethrower on that bitch’s face. Because you can’t rely on Bruce on that. That man would give bullshit excuse for her or want to handle her himself because your “history” with her makes you entitled.

Aaaah, don’t you just love it when there’s a great villain you can hate on so much?

I'm not saying she can't be a good person. Pre-morisson made Talia more of an anti-hero. But I do like Talia "I'mma cut a bitch" al'ghul. It's just... I like ruthless Bad Bitch like her. Though preferably she could have balance it with more of her maternal side through Damian.

Okay, I’m getting off tangent. Now comes to my favorite girl. Catwoman. Selina Kyle. The famous ship of all Bruce’s relationship sans SuperBat.

I... am conflicted the most about this.

See, Selina is one of the few people who understands Bruce. Who was there when he needed a shoulder to rely on. Someone who doesn’t take Bruce’s shit, and one of the constant person in Bruce’s life.

But not... constant enough. Which is a theme of her, even in her fursona... I, I mean PERSONA, PERSONA!!!

Anyway, I love seeing these two broken people. One handles it with violence and vigilantism, the other through thieving with a Robinhood-esque thing going on. So of course they get each other. It always helps that they try to make each other better. Selina taught Bruce to be okay of being selfish of wanting to be happy, and Bruce believed there’s good in her that makes her feel she’s not a hopeless case, y’know? It’s even canon that in one universe, they’re married and have daughter, Helena Wayne. So... yeah? Happy end! (Until they died but that’s non issue here at the moment.)

Then Tom King (Urgh, him again) wrote Bat proposing to Cat, and by the time they’re about to be married. Selina left him at the altar.

So yeah.

But then they get metaphysically? Figuratively? married after the Flashpoint which they turn Thomas Wayne into a villain (At least make him from alternate universe instead of timeline!!!) and kill Alfred (WhYYYYYY?! Bruce suffered enough why do you go kill both his fathers dammit!!! Let the goddamn butler rest in peace). And basically Selina and Bruce promise each other forever. Which is sweet. BatCat Forever, am I right???

Yeah, here’s the problem. (And I’m just nitpicking here, okay). For all Tom King’s character assassination of Bruce, he did Selina right in one thing. Which is the fact she doesn’t like being tied down by anything.

If Talia puts importance in power. Selina puts importance in freedom and her self-independence.

I remember as a kid watching BTAS, that Selina didn’t want a relationship with batman if it meant changing who she is. So when Selina left the altar, I wasn’t surprise at the news. Then she actually agreed to marry him, only this time, she didn’t need a judge or a paper to make the marriage legit, y’know. And I thought, yeah that’s so her.

But the thing is Bruce. Accepts. Her. Every. Single. Time.

Without a single thought. She asked, “Do you still want to get married?” and he asked “When?”

Even though it’s not the first that Cat leaves him hanging.

Tell me he’s not a simp for that.

It’s great that he accepts her for everything she is. But I’m conflicted because Selina stays static. She stays with the cat theme in the fact she doesn’t want to held back by anything. She takes what she wants. She loves who she loves. And no one was gonna change her. But then where’s the character growth?

Is it regressive of me to think Selina should be ‘tied down’ or express commitment when she never has been tied down before even though she loves Bruce?

Is it not-feminist of me to think Selina has to change herself for a man?

I just don’t like the fact Bruce and Selina enables their masked persona. Their relationship is strongly base on their cat-and-mouse chase. They nicknamed each other “Bat” and “Cat” for God’s sake. Even though yes, it’s canon that “Batman” and “Catwoman” is their real selves and their civilian life is their masks. Heck, she didn’t go for the altar because she believed (though manipulated) that making Bruce happy would make Batman insufficient, or losing him entirely (Thank Tom King for that).

That would be true, and stay true if not for one thing. Which is some thing what Bruce has that Selina doesn’t:

The Batfam.

Bruce’s real identity isn’t just the Batman anymore. He has to be a single father with growing children he never plan to adopt but did anyway because they needed each other. He can’t use his batman persona to be a father at his house, but he will when training them to be his partner. His family became the strength to Bruce’s fight for Justice.

Bruce is the Batman, but he’s not everything who he is. Selina is supposed to be part of the batfamily yet sadly, I haven’t read or watch anything that has her interact with them in a positive way or actually bond with them. Heck, when Alfred inform the proposal to the batfam they were shocked and thought it was a bad idea even (And they’ve known her for almost half their life by the way.)

The fact that Tom King implied Bruce was never happy or wasn’t happy enough without marrying Cat when his Batfam should be the source of his pride and joy?! Apparently family means nothing to Batman. Woah DC, what a great message you’re sending here.

I guess that’s why, I was a bit iffy when Selina “marriage” with Bruce isn’t official. Because she commits to the man but she doesn’t say she’ll commit to the family (though I suppose it could be imply or I just forget stuff). The batkids are grown up enough that they don’t really need a maternal figure, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need more emotionally available people in the family. And that I haven’t seen much of her taking effort to bond with the people that’s the most important to Bruce.

It just makes her want to commit to Batman instead of Bruce Wayne, in my eyes I guess.

So yeah, that’s why Wonderbat and Superbat makes more sense to me. Because they’ll make an effort to be THERE for the family and they’ll be just generally be a healthier relationships because, again, emotionally available so they might talk when they have a problem instead of running off the altar when you think a Happy Batman is Bad Batman. But no, DC have to make Bruce is a simp and his life edgy.

Anyway, I might be wrong in some things because, you know. Canon becomes a blur to me after a while.

108 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

put her together again (02)

word count; 6241

summary; mitch realises just how literal your instructions an be taken, and teh extent of your trauma, before helping you get over a major breakthrough.

notes; pretty major stuff in this part, so I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing about it. I know we’re moving quiet fast through the time spaces right now, but that’s kinda’ just the way it has to go.

warnings; reference to abuse, reference to brainwashing, reference to injury.

Following a rocky introduction to his life, the ripples you caused seemed to smooth out fairly easily after that. Mitch found himself acting less and less like you were a baby in need of protection, and instead, you had become more like a simple accessory to his life. You reminded him of a cat, you didn’t really talk to him, but you simply coexisted, moving around the shared space and living together without ever having to talk.

You no longer sat in silence and sulked in your room, though, because he’d managed to coax you out. Simple tasks and basic chores meant you were pulling your weight around the house, and he definitely notice that you’d occasionally things would be in slightly different places, objects cleaned an inspected while he wasn’t looking, as you learned your whereabouts. Books to read, paper and pencils to draw with, anything he could think of to try and get a little information of you, because talking never worked.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, this wasn’t exactly his ideal assignment, a year out of action as he babysat a moody assassin wasn’t something he thought he’d be spending his life doing, and so he was determined to try and make breakthroughs with you and learn as much about you as he possibly could, because the sooner you started talking and making progress, the sooner you’d be off of his hands. He just had to ensure you were stable and functional enough to undergo whatever therapy and rigorous interviewing it was that Irene had lined up for you.

You’d had a few conversations with him, which were mostly one-sided as he spoke and you stared at him with that same blank look, and over what had been almost a month now, Mitch had flittered through a range of emotion. Confusion, concern, anger, irritation, helplessness, and now back to confusion. This confusion, however, was mixed with some form of sadness and pity for you, the broken-toy vibe that you gave off made him permanently feel depressed and exhausted himself, and he was grateful for the reprieve when you seemed to perk up - even just a little bit - while reading of drawing.

The books were mostly just everything that he had around at the time, and you must’ve read everything on his shelves at least twice right now, even the ones written in Arabic that he’d forgotten he’d ever owned, which had lead to an interesting discovery that you apparently knew five languages fluently, and had a reasonable understanding of a further three. You were still icy and cold with him, and so he gave up on trying to ask you what the drawings meant, encouraging you to just draw whatever came to your mind when you picked up a pencil, most of your doodles and scribbles meaning nothing to him, but he faxed copies of them all over to Irene, and saved them in a folder when you were done with them.

The most startling thing he had learned, though, was just how young you’d been when you were taken.

A simple series of questions he’d asked you one day over dinner, stemming from his desperate attempt to find out more about you at the beginning o week two, an answer that had shaken him to his very core and sent his insides twisting in disgust and sadness for you, and his appetite had quickly drained after hearing your response. All he had asked was how old you were, how long you’d been doing this, and you had seemed entirely unaffected when you’d answered.

“Unit eight has been active for twenty years, six months and eight days - and has been in service for eleven years, three months and seventeen days.”

He remembered Irene saying that the agents were taken young, but that was younger than anybody could even remember, your life was based entirely on the way you’d been raised, on being grown and shaped into a weapon for a company that would use you until you died. You had no childhood, no young adulthood, you had nothing but the memories of a cell and an abuser, and even he had a childhood he could look back on before his own parents had passed away.

You weren’t a puzzle, you were like a broken glass, shattered on the floor and chipped, but it was his job to put you back together again. You’d never be whole, never the way you were before, you’d be splintered and cracked, but you’d no longer be shattered, and he was determined to achieve that for you.

Setting your mind up to do something productive seemed to be the best way to make progress with you, and he began to notice a steady pattern of what made you seem like you were on the verge of a breakthrough, and what made you seem like you were closing back in on yourself.

When you used shades of blue in your artwork, you seemed to be denoting happier scenes, things like snow and food, or simple sketches of what you were seeing around his home, and Mitch had decided that blue must be your favourite colour, even if you didn’t know it yourself, because you gravitated towards blue things. You liked to sit at the end of the couch with the blue cushion, and you favourite the deep navy hoodie he’d given to you, and the blue body wash in the bathroom seemed to be used up far more quickly than the yellow or red one, even though it had no scent other than sea salt, and the other two had a fruit essence that he’d originally thought you’d enjoy upon purchase.

Reds and purples seemed to donate darker times, the tips of the pencils often broken and in need of sharpening, and he had to buy those far more often than any others, because you pressed down harder into the paper, scribbling aggressively as you drew cages and corridors, until dark images with barely any white paper left revealed were created, and these must’ve been colours associated with things that hurt you in the past. Blue brought you calmness and serenity, and even made you more open to answering his questions or listening to him talk at dinner, but red and purples made your mood turn sour, and on those nights a palpable tension shrouding in darkness would often hang over the room.

You liked it when you were able to read sci-fi books, he’d noticed because his one copy of that genre on the bookshelf had never been put back after it had been picked up, always seeming to follow you around the house, even if you were on other books at the time. Mitch figured you liked to escape into another world, that you just wanted to get away from the life that you actually lived to find a better one, and he wasn’t entirely sure he blamed you. He was taking notes, jotting it down, the way you favoured certain things over another, and the way you scowled when he turned the vacuum on, but liked to sit in the laundry room when the washer was on, even though it was a little broken and rattled. The clock that clicked loudly with every second that passed was something he often found you sitting near on the bad days, your fingers twitching in time with the clicks, and he’d be damned if he said he didn’t find it at least the littlest bit endearing that you were able to search and find comfort in somewhere that was probably unfamiliar and rather scary to you.

The weeks passed on and on, your walls crumbling bit by bit as you seemed to grow more comfortable around him, choosing to sit with him on the couch when you ate dinner in the living room instead of at the table, and you had even begun to mimic some of his actions, taking on basic responsibilities around the house. You washed up, and unpacked the shopping when he brought things back, and he knew you tidied your room, because while you kept the door shut to him, he would occasionally catch a glimpse inside, and it was always spotless.

Luckily for Mitch, he’d managed to wrangle himself a few moments free at the end of each week. He set you off with a few hours worth of tasks each Friday, before slipping out to the coffee shop to get himself a well deserved hot drink and moment of quiet, before doing stopping by at the gym, and then going on to do some shopping.

From midday until five PM every Friday afternoon, Mitch got a little bit of freedom to himself, but as of two days ago, that had gone too, Irene telling him he was to come in and start giving her actual reports on how you were doing.

He wasn’t ready for the earlier rise this morning, and apparently, it had been a bad day. You’d spent the night screaming as you dreamt until the early hours, and so he’d only had a few moments of sleep, barely scraping himself out of bed in the morning. You’d been a challenge, to say the least, unwilling to leave your room after the awful dreams you’d had, until he’d shouted at you to come out and eat, a thing he was feeling guilty for now as you’d trudged from the room with your head hung low, and refused to meet his eye as he rushed around to get ready.

He felt guilty about a lot of things that had happened this morning, the most important of which being the fact that he had completely forgotten to go through the list of tasks with you, which he had spent an hour and a half making for you last night as he sat in the home office, his face popped up on his hand as he leaned over the desk and started at the sheet of paper, while trying to think of ways to help you without seeming like he was taking advantage of you to do household jobs, or patronising you by treating you like an incompetent child. He had rushed out before giving you the list, the paper sitting on his desk still, the office in which you never entered, the door closed from his exit last night, and he was genuinely convened that he would come home and find you still sitting at the kitchen table, legs numb and body aching from holding yourself upright for almost five hours, a dish still sitting in front of you and hours wasted once again.

He had realised this about thirty minutes into a meeting with Irene, one that had gone on for a further two hours, and then Stan had caught him in the corridor to discuss the upkeep on his training, before demanding a sparring session, which had taken up another hour of his time, and despite how much he knew he needed to get home to you, the two of you were rapidly running out of food, and so he was certain he needed to make at least a bare minimum shopping trip.

And so over four hours later, with shopping bags in hand a twisting feeling in his gut, Mitch was trudging his way back up the stairs to his apartment and rifling through his pockets to find his keys, only to remember after five whole minutes, that they were clasped between his teeth. It had been a long fuckin’ day.

Muscles aching, stomach rumbling, and silence meeting him when he opened the door, Mitch let out a deep sigh as he saw you.

It was out of relief, his lips flicking up at the sides as he realised at least one thing had gone right today. Your hair was still a little wet and your clothes were changed, clearly, you had showered, and you were peering at him over the edge of your book, face stoic and blank as you looked at him, and he kicked the door shut, moving around the room to place the bags down on the kitchen counter.

Your pencil set was out on the coffee table too, a new drawing facing upwards, this one decorated with splotches of greens and blues, a house in the foreground and a sunny day, signs along the road and toys in the garden, and it was possibly the most detailed drawing you’d done yet, similar to the line sketch you’d done a few weeks ago, the comparison in his mind flashing up as a green flag.

“I was worried that you’d stay in that chair all day, I’m glad to see that you haven’t.”

It had almost seemed like you’d shrugged, closing the book you were reading and sitting up to look at him over the edge of the couch as he put away all the food and supplies he’d bought for you both. “Based on previous assignments, it was logical that the handler would be satisfied with the unit’s task choices.”

He stilled, mulling it all over in his mind.

On the one hand, he was incredibly happy to see that you were gaining your ability to come up with ideas for yourself, even if you were doing it to please other people. It was the first time you’d gained a little individuality, choosing what you wanted to do from a list of ‘approved’ tasks, and just like that, he realised you’d made a pretty impressive breakthrough.

On the other hand, though, you saw him as your new handler, and that made him feel like yous aw him as a possible threat and someone who might hurt you, and he certainly never wanted you to feel like that. He wanted you to be safe with him, he wanted you to trust him and open up, not see him as someone who’d hurt you.

He finished tidying away, leaving out some pasta and basic ingredients for mac and cheese on the counter, and you were still sitting on the couch, watching him move around and waiting to be told what to do now that he was back.

“I think we should have a schedule, y’know? We can make a routine, then you don’t have to wait for me to tell you what to do.”

“Differing to the current routine?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was almost a hint of judgement and sass in your voice, spoken to him like he was just supposed to know that, and he placed his hands flat on the counter, raising his brows at you. “We already have a routine?”

You fixed him with a look that he couldn't quite decipher, before getting up and walking past him, disappearing into your room for only a moment, before re-emerging, a sheet of paper clasped in your hands.

Handwritten in the pencils you had scattered around, a pang shot through his chest as he got a glimpse of your writing, something that was unique to you, and so, in turn, felt so personal and special in a way that he couldn't quite place, but deeply appreciated. Taking a seat at the table, you pushed it towards him, head bowed down to look at the slightly stained wood, and he didn’t like standing above you, forcing you to see him as a superior, so he sat down opposite you.

Picking it up, his eyes scanned along it, taking in each and every note you had written, timeframes jotted down alongside tasks and notes, and a lot of things suddenly began to come to light about the way you acted, and when you wouldn't inevitably emerge from your bedroom, before retreating back into it. You stuck to this timetable like your life depended on it, and he was certain that at a time it had, but not anymore, and so making a routine wasn’t the direction to go in. He didn’t need to reinforce that behaviour, he needed to break you out of it.

Your entire life up until now had been based on punishments and time frames, and so what you needed were reward and spontaneity, to show you that you still had an entire life to live, if you could just let him free you from the box you’d been forced into. Mealtimes, work out schedules, study breaks, there was no free time, your day was filled with waiting on handler tasks and basic upkeep from the moment you got up to the moment you went to bed, and he shook his head in distaste, turning it back to you.

“Do you want to go for a walk? It’s a little late, but it’s not too cold tonight.”

“Exercise is scheduled between 10 AM and 3 PM every day.” He felt his head tip to the side a little as he studied you, licking over his lower lip and bringing it to sit clenched between his teeth as he nodded.

“I saw that, but I was thinking we could make an exception.”

“Is this an assignment?” You were pulling the paper closer to yourself, but looking up at him now, meeting his eye as you waited for an answer.

“No, it’s not an assignment, it’s fun.”

“Fun?” You echoed him, and he grinned a little as he watched you, and there was no doubt that there was judgement in your tone this time, a slight underlay of confused mocking, and while it wasn’t quite the emotions he wanted you t greet him with, it was more than the monotone and clipped sentences that he’d been awarded so far.

“Okay, so that’s a no on the walk then, but we will come back to that.” You raised a single brow at him, and the entirety of his bad day seemed to pale into insignificance as the first semblance of a personality from you dripped in, and it turns out, you were rather sassy. “You did good today, and everyone loves pasta, so how about you let me set us off some mac and cheese, and then we can rework this routine a bit, okay?”

“Command understood.”

You sat back in the chair, giving him a curt nod and crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. “Not a command, okay? Just a suggestion, something to be done, but I’m not commanding you.”

Your mouth opened, before you paused for a second, and he watched carefully, before you swallowed, bringing your gaze up to his own boldly. “Understood.”

“Progress.”

That statement was more for himself than for you, and he pulled out an oven dish and the jar of sauce he had, beginning to measure up pasta quantities as he prepared the meal for you both to share. During that time, he’d heard you get up, anew piece of paper being fetched and your pencil case, bringing them both back to your seat and spilling the wooden sticks out over the surface.

He had watched on in interest as he poured you both a glass of water while you arranged the colours to your liking, perfect rows in colour order, and you seemed satisfied with your job, folding your hands into your lap as you waited on him to join you. Pulling out a chair beside you instead of opposite you, your body stiffened slightly beside his own, but you didn’t flinch away or move, and so he decided to take that as a good sign. The original schedule sat by it for comparison, one you’d work through every day, and he hovered his hands over the lines of pencils, waiting for your approval on the act, and you offered him a curt nod to allow him to pick one up.

The first action he took was to write times along the side, knowing that he couldn't snap you out of it too much, he didn’t want to startle you or make you panic and curl back in n yourself, not when you were taking so many steps forward now, and so he wrote the times from morning to evening all the way along the side, and drew lines to match each one, before picking up two new colours of pencils.

“I’ll be green, and you’ll be blue, okay?”

You nodded, leaning in a little as you watched him transfer some of the events and items across onto the new sheet, using the blue pencil first as you changed some things around. Breakfast was at ten o’clock instead of eight, and you would only work out for one hour a day instead of a killer five hours every day. Dinner would be at five, and you had no commitments after that, but you had household jobs scheduled at four just before you ate.

Then, he moved onto himself, adding in green in the filler hours, such as his office work and his own workout, and he made a mental note to show you his home gym, so that you didn’t feel like you had to be locked away in your room. He also put in the time for showers and personal grooming, which was optional depending on the day, before he let out a proud sound, and presented it to you for approval.

“There are empty spaces. Units must not be left without tasks.”

“You won’t be left without things to do.” He turned, tapping the tip of your nose with a pencil and your face screwed up at the ticklish touch, before resetting to the blank expression he was oh-so-familiar with. “Those are called free time, or downtime. Time to relax, and do whatever you want to do. Like read, or draw, or whatever.”

You only nodded, seeming suspicious of the idea, but you didn’t argue and so he was happy with that, because he had the chance to help you discover who you wanted to be, and who you were when you weren’t under anybody’s control except your own.

“How about we say that once a week, we’ll go for a walk after dark? Just around the block, but it’ll do you good to get some fresh air.” You gave him your confirmation, and he felt like tonight you’d taken more steps in the last hour that you had in the previous six weeks of living together. Pushing his chair back, you flinched a little at the wood on the tiles, and with a mumbled apology under his breath, before he was rearranging the things pinned up on the fridge to make space for the sheet. “How about we keep this out here, where we can both see it, yeah?”

Your response game after a moment’s deliberation, but you were tucking your hands into the sleeves of the sweater in a way that made you look adorable as you let a little of you defences down again, seemingly without realising you’d done it, using his clothing like a suit of armour as you shielded yourself within them; “That would be acceptable.”

“Great. Now, it’s pasta time.”

You didn’t fight him on that, but he did hear you sniff the air as he opened the oven, and Mitch smirked to himself as he pulled the tray out and up onto the surface, bubbling cheese sauce and steaming pasta, and he fished around for two dishes and a serving spoon with which to sort the meal with.

Grabbing at forks and covering up the leftovers but leaving it out in case you wanted more, he placed the dish down before you, taking a seat beside you and while you didn’t say the words ‘thank you’, he saw what was most definitely a grateful look in your eyes, and he ducked his head, stirring his food around and stabbing at his pasta, shoving hot food into his mouth. He was slightly startled, to say the least, when you started a conversation, never having optionally chosen to be the first to talk before, and he looked up at you expectantly as soon as he heard your intake of breath;

“What are the recommended ‘free time’ activities?”

The routine seemed to work for you, it opened you up a little more to him and made it easier for the two of you to bond, but he quickly realised that having you sound when you had no idea what to do was slightly less functional.

You now seemed to follow him around like a lost puppy, and you still didn’t talk as much, so he didn’t mind having you around, but he felt sorry for you. You would sit and just keep him company silently as he did his office work, for hours at a time, or slink away to workout and take a shower before returning. Every book he had was now rearranged on the shelves, and you were running out of paper, beginning to sketch the same things over and over again because you had nothing else to do, and he quickly realised that his apartment was nowhere near as entertaining as he thought it was.

Sometimes, the two of you would watch a movie in the evening, but the television gave you headaches after too long, not that you ever voiced the pain but he could tell from the way you’d squint and rub at your eyes, getting a little cranky before going to bed and rubbing your temples. That meant you still needed an adjustment period to screens, not to mention that you had no idea how to operate much technology, and so he was left to occupy you with more basic forms of entertainment.

Your personality had been developing, though, coming through in dribs and drabs. You had favourites in the books now, a stack that you would go back over every day, whereas certain genres had been delegated back to the shoves to never again be touched, and he flicked through them one day before you got up, smiling to himself a little at the idea that science-fiction and fantasy were your favourites.

Following that discovery, he’d got a library card, making room on one of his Friday afternoons out to go to the building and browse the aisles, checking out ten new books following those genres to surprise you with, and you’d all but bounced in your spot as you stood before him, eyes wide and slightly sparkling as he handed them over to you. That day you did thank him, looking him in the eye as you said those words, and the locked eyes felt almost too intense for him to handle, you didn’t shy away or duck your head in respect of authority when he didn’t turn away either, heat crawling along his cheeks before you’d chosen to look down at the new books he’d given you.

He found in meals that you would eat anything you were given, despite his insistence that if you particularly liked something or didn’t like something, then you should speak up so he knew what to get, but you ate anything he gave you.

He picked up on the fact that you ate chicken at twice the speed you ate lamb, and that you’d had seconds of the beef stew and mashed potato he’d made one night, and you always pushed broccoli onto a fork with other food to eat it, but were happy to eat carrots and peas without having to accompany them with something else. Cheesecake was nice for dessert, but only if it had the lemon swirls, not the strawberry ones, and you preferred brownies to cookies.

Despite all his studying of you, he knew you were studying and learning him just as much in response. When he did the laundry, you’d fold it so he didn’t have to, and when he was cooking, you’d set the table. He’d watched you go around the entire apartment with a fine-tooth comb one day, checking everything and learning their places, memorising where it would all go and the positioning of things, finally accepting the environment as your own. You knew which side of the table he liked to sit on and which was his favourite chair, never sitting in it or disturbing his routine, and you’d grown to knocking on the office door before entering to sit with him quietly instead of just barging in and starling him if the world had slipped away around him as he drowned in mission reports and debriefing statements.

It was odd, to learn someone so well, to become so in tune with another person when they hardly spoke to you, and to know someone so well when they barely knew themselves. It was hard to talk to you, you didn’t even know your name, but he knew of your childhood trauma at the hands of kidnappers, and you lived with him but couldn't remember your own house while growing up. Having another person in his life was something that Mitch had expected to hate, but as the ‘end of your third-month’ marker of slightly uneasy but otherwise reasonably acceptable cohabitation came around, he found that he rather enjoyed having your presence.

The large space felt more welcoming now, and knowing he had someone to come home to and sit with as he ate his meals or watched his movies made the long days feel a little shorter, and the stressful workload feel a little more bearable, even if it was only a temporary fixture, but Mitch was making the most of it while it lasted.

“I’m home!” Mitch had to resist the urge to add the word ‘honey’ onto the beginning there, his eyes rolling at himself as he grinned at the joke in his mind, waiting expectantly with the bags at the door as he tried to kick off his shoes, but you didn’t come to greet him.

Lately, he’d been able to trust you alone enough to go out more, and so he was given a little more freedom, the alone time seeming to give you a chance to develop your own mind a little more too, making more and more little breakthroughs each day. You normally came to find him after he arrived home, padding through the house to greet him at the door, even if you didn’t say anything, you’d offer him a nod of the head and take some of the bags from his hands if he had any.

You didn't come to find him though, concern and fear racing through his veins as he listened to the eerie silence in the house, and he left the bags abandoned on the kitchen table as he checked through the house, ensuring security and safety. He found you in your bed, curled up under your covers with the blanket lifted over your head, despite the fact that the chart you’d made to give you a routine stated that you’d be reading one of the more informative books you owned right now.

He knocked on the door, your body not moving out from under the blanket, but you shuffled a little, and he chuckled, making his way across the room. Peeling the blanket back from over your head, the teasing smile on his face dropping as he took in red puffy eyes and wet cheeks, a distressed look on your face as you curled into your pillow a little more, backing away from him across the bed as your body closed in on yourself.

“What happened?”

You didn't reply, barely moving, and he settled down on the floor, kneeling before you as his knees brushed the carpet, placing his forearms flat on the edge of the mattress and balancing his chin on top of them. You peeked up at him a little, and his heart broke a little bit as you brought up one sweater covered hand to wipe at your face. It was the first real emotion he’d seen from you, he expected things like a smile or an angry outburst, but he’d never expected to see tears, and right now you looked like you were walking the line between distressed and utterly terrified.

“Wanna’ tell me what’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath, sniffling a little before pushing yourself to sit up, smoothing your hair back out of your face and crossing your legs, trying to gain a little bit of composure again, before taking a deep and raspy breath, coughing to clear your throat before you spoke. “Unit eight has another title.”

His brows furrowed, your voice barely above a whisper and cracking at the end, and he echoed the words back to you in confusion. “Another title?”

“(Y/N).”

He mulled the name over a little, letting it rattle around inside his head before realising exactly what it meant, and he felt his own face light up as you continued to stare at him with a cross of horror and despair. “That’s amazing! Why do you look so sad? That’s your name.”

You just played with your hands in your lap, taking your gaze away from his as your head dropped down, and he let out a low sigh. Lifting his body up from the floor, he was soon to find his seat on the mattress instead, back pressing to the wall as he sat beside you, keeping his gaze fixed on you.

“Can I call you that? (Y/N)?”

“It would be acceptable.” The words were hardly audible, but you were at least accepting your name now, and he was psyched just to have something to refer to you as, because up until now, it had been extremely difficult just to get your attention.

He never wanted to call you ‘unit eight’ and he didn’t want to startle you by touching you out of the blue, knowing that you were still jumpy and stiff even when he just got a little too close without warning, but this was major progress. Your arm brushed against his as you shuffled, and you moved in a little closer to him, not quite leaning your head on his shoulder but your cheek brushed the curve of his arm, seeking out comfort as you cleared your skin of tears, and he remained still, allowing you to do so.

He knew it would take you a while to actually settle into the name, to get used to hearing it and remembering that it was you, in order to reply to the name and become familiar with it. He dared to reach out a hand, placing it over your clothed knee and squeezing comfortingly as you settled into the realisation that you weren't just a unit, you were a person with a name, and he couldn't really imagine how you were feeling, but he could empathise.

“Well, for the record, I think it’s a lovely name, and I think it suits you.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded his head, tipping it to the side to rest on your own, and he could feel the slight tension of your body, freezing up for a moment, before you accepted the physical touch, and it was all symbols of how well you were settling into your new life. “How about we make some dinner? Do you want to come and cook with me? I bet you’re starving, right now. You made a pretty big breakthrough.”

You merely nodded, letting him guide you up from the bed slowly as you stretched out muscles and joints that must've been locked up for a while. He waited as you straightened out the sheets, wandering away to the kitchen to give you that moment of space, and you joined him only a few minutes later, opening up the fridge and having a look through, before pulling out a packet of chicken breasts and looking up at him hopefully.

“Chicken and potatoes? I have that broccoli you like.”

“That would be nice.”

The two of you worked in harmony, side by side as he stood over the hob, creating a seasoning for the chicken and frying it up, and you expertly chopped potatoes and vegetables with a kind of precision and speed that he knew was a skill gained from your years in captivity, but it was still incredible to watch, dicing everything up small and making it look so easy. You had ended up choosing mashed potatoes over boiled, and he worked carefully to ensure there were no lumps and that it was smooth, while you set the table, and he plates up two dishes of hot and delicious food for you both, humming to a song under his breath.

You had poured drinks, laying them out too, before going to take a stand beside him, staring at both of the plates, and leaning in a little as he practically watched the cogs work in your mind, and he waited patiently, brows raised, for whatever it was you were thinking about and trying to work out how to say. “Is this one.. um, this one is mine?”

He paused, lifted up the spoon he’s dished out the mash with to lick it clean, but couldn't help the large grin that plastered across his face. Mine.

Your name made you acknowledge yourself as something other than another person’s plaything and machine, and he nodded, letting out a breathy laugh as you claimed something as your own, as a person capable of having possessions.

“Yeah. Yeah, that one is yours.”

#Mitch rapp #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp x reader #mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch month #mitch rapp american assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien fic #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien au #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years ago

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Rent a Holidate

Read on AO3

Magnus is barely paying attention as his father blathers on about his annual Thanksgiving party. It’s the same as every year, food made by an overpaid chef, schmoosing clients and Magnus being expected to attend and behave.

They don’t even really celebrate Thanksgiving and it’s definitely not about family coming together to be thankful for the things they have and the love they share, it’s a way for his father to impress his clients with the size of his house and the happy little family picture that he, whoever his latest wife is and Magnus make. It’s a fake night, filled with fake rich people that Magnus loathes more and more every single year.

There’s a pause on his fathers end of the line and Magnus scrambles assuming he was asked some sort of question.

“Yes, of course,” he says hoping that’s the right answer. Evidently it’s neutral considering his father’s monotonous response.

“Fine then, I hope that he or she will be an acceptable date for the evening,” his father says. Oh shit, he thinks, did I just agree to bring a date to this thing?

For a moment he considers backtracking saying he won’t be bringing anyone, it’s not like he’s been on so much as a half decent date in over a year, but he knows his father, once you’ve said something you act on it, no turning back. So instead he grits his teeth and accepts he’ll be bullshitting his way through an emergency excuse to why his fake partner couldn’t attend the night of.

“He is very acceptable,” Magnus says faux cheery conjuring up a fake boyfriend in his head. Not that any partner of his could be deemed acceptable by his father, his father even finds his own career path teaching English at NYU to be an underperformance.

“It’s not Columbia,” he always says whenever Magnus talks about his work.

“Well, then I look forward to meeting him,” his father says not at all sounding like he’s looking forward to it. Which is good considering Magnus’ supposed boyfriend is a complete fabrication. “I’ll see you in a week.”

And just like that he hangs up, no goodbye, nothing.

Magnus sighs tossing his phone into the graded paper box on his desk and begins crafting a personality and profession for his fake boyfriend just in case he needs a more solid alibi.

***

Magnus laments his woes to Dot and Catarina later that night, it’s Thursday which means mimosas and movies.

“Part of me just wants to make up an excuse and be done with it, it’s not like he’ll even remember in a week’s time after the fact that I ever even had a supposed boyfriend,” Magnus says pausing to take a sip of his mimosa. “The other part of me just wants to bring the world’s worst date and embarrass him to no end.”

“You mean Camille wasn’t the world’s worst date?” Dot says curling up in the chair beside Cat with her own mimosa in hand.

“Camille was the world’s worst date, but she never was one to make a scene, she was quietly and privately terrible,” Magnus says moving quickly past the topic of his wicked ex. “I mean someone who’s not a bad person, just kind of a mess.”

“Why don’t you hire the guy Dot hired last year for her family reunion?” Cat says not even bothering to look up from her phone as she scrolls reading reviews for the movie they’re about to watch.

“Yeah he was great,” Dot says agreeing with Cat’s suggestion. “His names Alec. He can’t play straight to save his life which made it even better because my whole family was convinced I was not only dating a worthless degenerate, but a worthless degenerate gay man. Hilarious, honestly.”

She pulls up something on her phone and hands it to Magnus. It’s a Craigslist ad titled, Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? Tired of your family’s absurd expectations?

He takes the phone reading the post entirely.

My name is Alec Lightwood, I’m a 28 year old almost felon who went to college for three weeks before dropping out. I have a Thunderbird that’s only a year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s red guitar. It’s hideous and embarrassing and I love it. I can play anywhere between the ages of 23 to 32 depending on if I shave. I’m a bartender and occasional bouncer when the need requires, I haven’t been seen not in a leather jacket with a tear in the back since high school, I’m gay and very bad at hiding it and I’ve even got an eyebrow scar that’s sure to raise a few eyebrows (get it, raise a few eyebrows).

If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for a gathering of some sort, but have me pretend to be in a very serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things at your request:

- Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don’t notice (of any gender, I may be gay but I can embarrassingly hit on anyone even if it’s not convincing).

- Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (sports are off the table however unless your family are big into the Rangers or Islanders, then I can talk shit for days.)

- Propose to you in front of everyone and you tearily accept or you turn me down and I proceed to have a breakdown, but we resolve to work on our relationship much to your family’s chagrin.

- Pretend to be increasingly drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t actually drink anymore, but I used to. A lot. Too much in fact. I know the drill.)

- Start a screaming match with a family member, that could come to blows (but no one will be physically harmed, I promise) either inside or on the front lawn (if there is one) for all the neighbors to see.

I require no pay but the free food I will receive as a guest at any event!

We can meet prior to the event somewhere public and you can ask me any questions. And I mean any questions so that you feel safe.

- Do NOT contact with unsolicited services or offers. Email me at: [email protected]

“Um, he’s a felon?” Magnus says looking up from the phone when he’s done.

“Hey, don’t judge, you’re not exactly rap sheet free,” Dot says scolding him with a smile. Which okay, he does have a few arrests on his record, petty little things and pick-ups at a protest or two, but felonies are a bit above that. He says that aloud. “Also, as it says he’s technically an almost felon.”

“He’s not a murderer or anything, I had Raphael check out his history before I requested his services,” Dot continues on to explain, referring to their friend who’s a prosecutor. “He got picked up for aggravated assault after he caught the guy who got his sister hooked on drugs in her bed shooting her up, it was a bullshit charge from a snake of a man who deserved every hit he got. The charges were ultimately dropped and settled when the piece of shit he beat up got hit with about ten felonies himself. He’s a good guy, like a really good guy I promise.”

“Didn’t Raphael even stress that he never would have convicted Alec in a million years on the charges?” Cat says getting up from her seat and heading to the kitchen to refill her mimosa glass.

Dot nods taking a sip of her drink. “He did, he said any jury would have sided with him over the 30 year old drug pusher preying on an 18 year old girl. And even though we can’t tell him, because we don’t want him to smirk about it all the time and get a big head, we both know Raphael is the best judge of character and lawyer in America.”

It’s true, Raphael always knows what he’s talking about.

“Plus,” Dot continues on. “Alec’s very upfront about it, I didn’t even need to do the background check he told me exactly what went down when we met for coffee before the event, even brought his sister along to corroborate and make me feel comfortable.”

“Wow,” Magnus says genuinely surprised by the decency of a man on the internet.

“Also, he’s very cute,” Dot smirks over the rim of her glass waggling her eyebrows in Magnus’ direction.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it matters if my fake date is cute.”

“So you’re gonna do it?” Catarina says coming back in the room, a pitcher filled to the brim with mimosa mix in her hand.

Magnus bites his lip in thought as he looks down at the phone in his hand again. He does want to cause a ruckus, he’s tired of being the perfect little son when his father needs him to be. And Alec Lightwood might just be able to provide the exact ruckus he’s looking for.

“What the hell,” he mutters before tossing Dot’s phone to her. “Do I need to email him, or do you still have his number?”

Dot smiles in delight as she taps on her phone his own phone buzzing in his pocket a second later with Alec’s number.

***

Alec keeps his text exchanges simple, offering to meet Magnus the following afternoon after Magnus’ noon class for coffee. Alec lets Magnus choose everything, clearly dedicated to making the person contacting him as comfortable as possible. Luckily for Magnus Alec’s had no inquiries for this Thanksgiving, except for one that was definitely unsavory and he turned down immediately.

With such short notice Magnus thought for sure this might not work out.

He walks in scanning the shop looking for Alec and comes up empty based on Dot’s description of him. He gets in line and orders a drink finding a table off to the side where it’s not too crowded to sit and wait. He’s barely settled into his seat when the chime above the door rings and in walks a stunner with long legs and dark hair.

The man pauses scanning the room, then his eyes land on Magnus his lips tilt up just a bit and he walks over his way.

“Magnus Bane?” he says in question when he reaches the table. Magnus is speechless for a moment as the sun catches in the man’s hazel eyes and on the tiny silver hoops in his ears. He shakes himself from the trance he’s in, ignoring the way his eyes shine a little greener when he tilts his head and nods his own head in confirmation.

“Alec Lightwood?”

“That’s me,” the man says with a smile that crinkles at the edges just a bit, he reaches out a hand that Magnus takes shaking it instantly enjoying the contrast of Alec’s cold fingers to his warm ones. Magnus squeezes his hand once before letting go. “I’m just gonna go get a drink and then we can talk,” Alec says stepping back with a tentative, but dazzling smile.

Magnus watches him go enjoying the view of his long legs in motion. He spots the tear in the back of his leather jacket, just like mentioned in his ad, and smiles. Alec comes back moments later a mug of black coffee in hang.

“So you need a bad date for Thanksgiving,” he says tearing open an obscene amount of sugar packets and pouring them into his mug. “I’m guessing before we get into that though, you want to know about the almost felony?”

Magnus shakes his head and Alec looks at him quizzically for a moment, before the puzzle pieces in his mind clearly fall into place.

“Dot,” he says in understanding. “She must have told you everything.”

“She did,” Magnus confirms taking a sip of his drink. “And for the record it sounds like you were in the right.”

Alec smiles a small uncertain smile almost like he’s not sure that’s the truth, but takes the words as a compliment anyways.

“It wasn’t my finest moment, I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to people I love,” he says running his fingers along the rim of his mug.

“Getting a drug predator away from your sister isn’t just being overprotective, it’s doing the right thing,” he says genuine. He remembers when they were in high school and Raphael had his run with a bad crowd, it never came to it, but he would have done the same thing Alec did if the situation had presented itself.

Alec just shrugs looking off to the side. Magnus sees the uncomfortable set in his shoulders and shifts the conversation.

“You come highly recommended, Dot says you put on one hell of a show at her family reunion,” he says with a bright smile.

Alec’s shoulders ease and he turns back to Magnus with a smile.

“Dot barely needed me, she put on a performance just as stunning, I’ve never seen a woman so small body tackle so many people during what’s supposed to be a friendly game of tag,” he says with a chuckle.

Magnus has heard all about Dot’s deadly game and seen the bruises she proudly displayed from her somewhat violent performance first hand.

“Believe me it’s not the first time she’s tackled down a full-grown man,” Magnus says with a laugh fondly remembering a frat party, an unsuspecting frat boy and a fateful game of beer pong from many years ago.

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” Alec says rubbing a hand across his dark beard. The conversation shifts from there, Magnus giving Alec the full rundown about his father, his current stepmother and the all too haughty evening they’ll be subjected to.

Conversation flows easy between them, Alec seeming to understand a lot of Magnus’ struggles with his family life and Magnus finds himself wondering if there’s more to why he does this bit of charity for people in need.

“So, why exactly is it you do this?” Magnus asks, clarifying quickly when Alec raises his eyebrow in question. They’ve covered the felony yes and it’s clear that Alec just simply cares, but that’s not a full reason why. “I mean I believe that you’re just a genuinely good person who wants to help people, but it’s deeper than that isn’t it?”

Alec pauses for a moment rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Magnus is about to tell him he doesn’t have to explain if it’s an uncomfortable topic just as Alec starts to talk.

“I’m gay,” he says and Magnus smirks, the obviously on the tip of his tongue. Alec picks up on it smiling back. “Obviously, but for a long time I couldn’t be, or at least not at home. My parents are kind of rich, they’d do these big to do holiday parties every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When my siblings and I were little they were just big boring adult parties that we’d steal food from. Then we all got old enough to date and to have plans for the future.”

Magnus hums in understanding. That’s how his father’s parties had been, one day he was a kid just stealing cookies and hating the droll grown ups and the next he was a man expected to present himself in certain ways, ways that weren’t remotely who he was.

“By the time I was 21 I was still in the closet, and already on their shit list for dropping out of college, and I never dated and my parents were just determined to find me a wife. Every year it was so and so’s daughter is lovely and has such a strong education or so and so’s daughter is coming and I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he says twisting the coffee mug between his hands. “I’m pretty sure those holiday parties are how my drinking got so bad, forced heterosexuality and an open bar do not mix well together.”

He chuckles and Magnus takes that as an invitation to do the same. Again he gets it, he’s taken his fair advantage of the open bar at his father’s parties many times.

“And then one year my dad was going on about some girl who was at Thanksgiving dinner, I don’t even remember her name, but she was standing there and the whole time he’s talking about how she’s so pretty and so ready to start a family and I should make a move before someone else did. And I was losing my mind internally and evidently I’d had just enough to drink that I just screamed at the top of my lungs that I was gay.”

He pauses taking the last sip of his coffee.

“And then I just left after my mom was trying to talk to me about causing a scene. Then Christmas rolls around and to my extreme shock I get the invite. I thought for sure I was in for the lecture I’d been avoiding for a month, but instead they just acted like Thanksgiving hadn’t even happened,” he shakes his head. “They invited some other poor girl to try and marry me off to and just went on like I hadn’t had a big, gay outburst. My outburst was a lot bigger that time, after that I didn’t get any more party invites, they just cut me out entirely.”

Magnus reaches out resting his hand on Alec’s that’s drumming on the table. “I’m so sorry, Alexander,” he says trying out the full name for the first time guessing that’s what Alec is short for. He likes the way it rolls off his tongue and judging from the way Alec doesn’t correct him he ventures he got it right.

Alec just shrugs with a sad little smile on his lips. “It’s okay,” he says. “I mean it wasn’t back then, but I’m okay now. I don’t need my parents or their money, my siblings are still in my life and I’ve got a whole life outside of that. I can have my gay outbursts in peace now.”

Magnus laughs squeezing his hand once before pulling back, he’s been resting it there much too long now.

They talk logistics after that, establishing a plan for the holiday dinner. Alec immediately offers to bring his Thunderbird to drive to Magnus’ father’s place upstate.

“I don’t have the car not to be embarrassing about it,” he says and Magnus smiles insisting he pays for the gas then.

He spends almost three hours and four coffees with Alec and eventually finds they’re not even talking about the dinner in question, but they’re just talking instead.

It’s an unexpected development.

***

Coffee with Alec goes all too well and by the end of it they have a carefully cultivated story about how they met and how long they’ve supposedly been together all set in stone. Alec ensures him he’ll be the ultimate, best bad boyfriend for the night, and frankly Magnus is having a hard time believing it.

Alec is sweet, kind without even realizing it and looks like the living embodiment of tall, dark and handsome. If Magnus is being honest he’d love to take him out sometime as a real date more than a bad boyfriend for the night.

He calls Dot after they’ve said their goodbyes, walking to his apartment not far from the coffee shop.

“So how’d it go?” Dot asks immediately upon answering the phone.

“He’s incredibly charming without trying to be and cute is a fucking understatement, Dorothea,” he says looking both ways before crossing to the other side of the street.

Dot chuckles wildly on the other side.

“I’m serious, if I was given the opportunity to craft a man based on looks alone I’m pretty sure he’d be what I’d create, he’s gorgeous,” Magnus says as he reaches his building going inside and heading for the elevator.

“I may have undersold him slightly,” Dot says sounding all too innocent.

“And was there a reason for that, my dear?” he says. He’s starting to feel like he’s being set up.

“Perhaps,” she says and he can hear the gleeful smile in her voice. “You can thank me later, for now just enjoy your bad boyfriend.”

***

Five days later on the last Thursday of the month, Magnus waits outside of his apartment for Alec and at three o’clock on the dot Alec’s truly ridiculous car pulls up. It’s even better in person than he described.

The black, red and white lines are exactly like Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar and the ’93 Thunderbird is just on the right side of beat up. The left taillight is busted, covered in see through tape and there’s a sizeable dent in the passenger side door.

Alec steps out of the car, a vision in his signature leather jacket, black jeans with far too many tears and dark eyeliner around his eyes. It’s not neat like Magnus’ though, it’s messy. His whole look from his disheveled, but neat hair, to his trimmed beard to his scuffed boots is just on the right side of acceptable, but screams of a wild side as well.

Magnus isn’t as black tie as he knows his father would like him to be, wearing a deep red shirt and tight pants with a line down the side, his perfectly styled hair, curly and soft with matching red streaks running through it. They make a pretty attractive pair if Magnus does say so himself.

Magnus can’t wait to see how the evening plays out.

Alec smiles at him coming over to open the passenger side door, it takes a couple tugs to get it open.

“It’s a little finicky,” he says playfully bowing and gesturing for Magnus to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

Magnus smiles stepping into the car. Alec shuts the door tight rounding the car and falling into his seat.

“Ready to cause a scene?” Alec says with a devilish smile that Magnus finds hard to resist.

“Absolutely,” he says with his own answering smile as Alec turns the key and peels out onto the road.

***

The ride up takes about two hours all told with holiday traffic and every minute of it is delightful. Alec tells him more about himself, outside of the surface stuff they’d covered to make sure Magnus was comfortable with this whole night.

He learns Alec loves archery, has an affinity for trash shows like the Bachelor and has a vicious little cat he adores named Church. Magnus gives his own tidbits in return about his work at the university and his love of bad horror movies, laughing when Alec suggests their fiendish cats might just get along.

Magnus laughs just as they pull up outside of his father’s home, “Chairman doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

Alec shrugs. “Neither does Church, that’s why it’d be fun,” he says with a smile pulling his eyes away from Magnus looking up at the sprawling house before them. He slows the car to a stop pulling into a spot that makes the car perfectly visible from the wall of windows that line the living room where all the guests won’t be able to miss it.

“Damn,” Alec says as he steps out of the car, Magnus joins him where he’s leaning back against the front of his Thunderbird. His car looks amazingly out of place and perfectly hilarious parked between a silver Porsche and a sleek black Lamborghini. “Your father’s in real estate you said?”

“Amongst other things,” Magnus grumbles looking at the house that was always too big, that always felt hollow and empty to Magnus when they moved here after his mother skipped town.

“It’s way too big,” Alec says with a grimace looking it over one last time before offering his arm to Magnus. Magnus takes it guiding him to the front door. “And there’s way too many fucking windows.”

Magnus chuckles as they reach the door opening it automatically and walking in. The space is gaudier than the last time he was there, the walls where once his father and stepmother number four’s portraits used to hang now feature the latest wife and sadly the one of him that his father had commissioned years ago. It’s the last time he’d agreed to sit for one of his gaudy paintings, he’s young, barely 20 wearing a stiff suit and barely any makeup, he doesn’t look like him at all.

“Well that’s a painting,” Alec says looking at it. “I like this you better,” he says eyeing Magnus up and down. Whether he meant to or not there’s a lingering in the look, Magnus likes it. “That looks like somebody trying to be something they’re not.”

And just like that with one look at a painting, Alec nails him right on the head. Like he can read Magnus easily, a thing that just about no one can do.

“Come on,” Magnus says pulling Alec along down the garish hallway that leads to the large expanse of the living room. There’s a new chandelier hanging in the hall, riddled in way too many gems. He bets it’s a feature added by the new wife.

“Maggie!” a woman’s voice yells, speak of the devil, he rolls his eyes at the nickname no matter how many times he’s told her to drop it she just won’t. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

His stepmother comes bouncing over their way, her ridiculously high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. He can hear his father sigh from the other side of the room, more concerned with his precious oak floors than anything else in the world.

Magnus braces himself as she barrels into him hugging him tight, she releases him with a smile before turning to Alec and doing the same.

Alec’s eyes go wide in surprise, no matter how much Magnus described her to him there’s no preparing for hurricane Marissa. She pulls back adjusting her very not appropriate for the setting tight pink and black strapless dress with a smile, her fake tan looks a little lighter than usual and he’s weirdly proud of her for that.

“And who is this?” she asks reaching out to adjust Magnus’ shirt collar that she crumpled when hugging him.

“This is my boyfriend, Alec,” he says gesturing his way. “Alec this is my father’s wife, Marissa.”

Marissa playfully pats Magnus’ cheek, “Stepmother.” She says it pointedly holding out a hand to quickly shake Alec’s. He will never refer to her as his stepmother out loud, much like the past four wives Magnus bets Marissa will be gone in five years’ time tops, his own mother hadn’t even stuck around that long. Also, she’s 25, five years younger than him, and there’s no way he’s referring to her as anything remotely close to a mother.

“It’s lovely to have you in our home,” Marissa says to Alec gesturing to the room at large. Magnus looks around at the room full of people, most of whom he doesn’t remotely recognize. A few seem somewhat familiar in the most unmemorable sense. He’s sure they’re constant clients and rich cohorts of his father’s that have attended before.

“That it is,” his father’s voice says coming up behind his wife. He rests one hand on her shoulder and holds out another Alec’s way. “Asmodeus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood,” he says a perfect gentleman returning his father’s handshake. They’d agreed to keep it civil for at the least the first introduction and then let the evening escalate from there. Magnus can tell just from looking at it his father’s grip is tight, commanding and borderline threatening, but Alec doesn’t even flinch.

“Lightwood, hm?” his father says eyeing Alec up and down frowning and Magnus can tell he already disapproves of what he sees. “Any relation to the Lightwood Consulting company?”

“Yes,” Alec says and Magnus smiles when he sees his father’s lips uptick in an impressed smile that immediately falls at Alec’s next words. “But they cut me out and off years ago, I’m the black sheep of the family if you will.”

Asmodeus just hums disappointed. “Well, that’s a shame,” he says. “So, how did you meet my son?” he asks not bothering with anymore small talk now that he’s already decided Alec’s no good, just jumping right in to the things he can criticize.

“Prison,” Alec jokes and Marissa titters delightfully. She quickly stops when Asmodeus looks at her disappointedly. “Just kidding,” he says. “I did my time there years ago, no we met at a bar.”

Asmodeus bristles at the prison mention, which is technically a lie, Alec only spent a few hours in a cell back when he was arrested, but his father clearly buys it as more. Magnus can tell he’s tuning out the rest of their crafted meet cute story, all about how three months ago Alec had a few too many drinks and almost got into a fight and Magnus had been his stalwart knight in shining armor.

“Love at first sight,” Marissa sighs clearly enjoying their made up tale. “Isn’t it sweet, Asmody?” she coos tugging on his father’s arm.

“Yes, quite sweet,” Asmodeus grimaces gripping his wife’s arm and pulling her away. “We’ll talk later.” He says looking directly at Magnus, essentially and completely dismissing Alec’s presence all together before stepping away. Marissa grins wide waving at them as she goes her long pink acrylic nails clicking together as she does so. Marissa may not be the brightest or subtlest bulb, but at least unlike many of Asmodeus’ past wives she’s nice enough.

“Well damn, do I even need to do anything else? He seems disappointed enough already,” Alec says shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now, where would the fun in that be,” Magnus says with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket. Alec follows suit and Magnus admires the view of his arms in a short sleeved well-fitting white button up shirt. His love of archery has made for some nicely toned muscle.

***

They mingle for a bit after Magnus deposits their coats in one of the coat closets, Magnus putting on his best son of the year smile while Alec downs glasses of water that everyone thinks is vodka at a fairly speedy rate.

It’d been his first task when they’d rejoined the party walking over to the bar with a smile.

“I need you to fill a bottle or two of vodka with water and keep serving me all night,” he said to the bored and disgruntled looking woman behind the counter. The rest of the hired help for the night must have been sequestered away in the kitchen until dinner judging by her being the first one that Magnus had spotted.

“You planning something weird tonight?” she questioned sliding Magnus a glass of red wine.

“Not weird, just disruptive,” Alec said so kind and so believable that the girl perked up.

“Well I love to see rich people who call me barkeep unironically disrupted, so you got it,” she said with a smile discreetly pouring out a bottle and refilling it with water before handing a glass to Alec as he dumped a sizeable wad of cash into her completely empty tip jar. God, rich people were cheap.

She’s been steadily serving him since.

Now they find themselves with a man who has to be bordering on 200 years old and it seems Alec decides it’s time to truly get to work.

“All that glitters,” the old man says talking about something that they’ve clearly both been tuning out.

“Glitters?” Alec says a little too loud, just enough so that everyone in their vicinity can hear. “You mean the place on 5th? My ex used to dance there, maybe you saw him, man knew how to work a pole if you know what I mean?” he winks at the old man and Magnus just barely stifles his laughter as the old man steps back in shock. He mumbles something unintelligible looking suddenly ill and paler than he had before and slips away.

Alec tosses back his drink and hands it to a passing woman in a truly hideous pantsuit that is definitely not a server, dragging Magnus along to the table of appetizers. He tosses shrimp into his mouth not bothering with a napkin, rubbing his hands on his ripped-up jeans making direct eye contact with a young woman, no doubt another trophy wife, as he does so. She scrunches up her nose and steps away.

Evidently despite his fairly small work so far he’s made just enough of a scene to garner Asmodeus’ attention once again.

“So, Alec, I assume that colorful vehicle outside is yours?” he says walking up beside the two of them. Their bartender and conspirator comes up just then handing Alec a fresh glass.

Alec smiles at her, before turning to Asmodeus. He’s not acting drunk yet, but he’s bordering on behaving tipsy.

He slings an arm over Magnus’ shoulder and brings him in close. Magnus settles a hand at Alec’s waste enjoying the proximity.

“Yes, that is my sweet Cherry,” he says naming the car on the spot. “Won her in a poker game when I was 18, crashed her three days later and have been patching her back together ever since.”

“A poker game?” Asmodeus questions, clearly becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Yup,” he says cheerfully popping the p in the word. “Well, I wouldn’t say won directly, more cheated a guy and then fought him for it,” he pauses gesturing to the little sliced scar that runs through his left eyebrow. “That’s how I got this.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many tire irons a high school principal is carrying around,” Alec continues with a snort tossing back half of his drink.

Magnus just nods along in agreement to Alec’s concocted tale. He actually bought the car from his sister’s ex-boyfriend when he was nineteen for 200 bucks, but this story shocks far more.

“You mean to say you fought your principal for your car?” Asmodeus says judgement so very clear in his voice.

“High school, am I right?” Alec shrugs with a chuckle smiling down into his drink. Asmodeus looks appalled.

“Oh, come on don’t look like that father,” Magnus says placing his free hand on Alec’s chest and patting there lightly. Magnus can’t help but notice how solid the chest under his hand is. “I got up to some trouble in high school myself, surely you remember.”

Asmodeus just hums, clearly finding Magnus’ occasional wild parties without permission a dull comparison to the tale Alec just told.

“Never forget the time I streaked and jumped from the guest house roof to the trampoline and right into the pool, nearly broke my arm in the process,” Magnus says with a smile. Alec leans over burying his face in Magnus’ hair, careful not to mess it up, whether it’s to play up the PDA or stifle a laugh Magnus isn’t sure.

They’d had a whole conversation about PDA, Alec promising to respect his boundaries, no kissing and never a hand wandering beneath his waist.

“How could I forget,” Asmodeus says sharply embarrassed by his son’s antics. He turns towards the large windows and looks out to where the porch patio lights illuminate Alec’s car.

“It is so sexy that you did that,” Alec says ignoring Asmodeus and turning towards Magnus. He downs the rest of his drink and meet’s Magnus’ eyes, a question and idea brewing clear in them. Magnus smirks tugging at Alec’s shirt.

“You think so?” he says teasingly.

“Mm hmm,” Alec says biting his lip and Magnus knows this is all a part of the show, but god are those lips tempting.

Magnus catches Asmodeus turning his attention back to them looking outright furious. Magnus pulls away from Alec’s eyes and smiles a bright smile like they’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“I’m gonna give Alec the tour,” he says leadingly pulling Alec along by both hands and rushing away from the living room and down the hall before Asmodeus can say a word. He can see Alec’s smirk as he notices the stares of the other guests in the room.

Magnus doesn’t even pay attention to where they’re going as he pulls them into a room just off the right side of the hall.

“How’d you actually get that scar?” Magnus asks once they’re inside shutting the door behind him, no doubt convincing everyone they’re about to get down and dirty.

“Took a hockey stick to the face when I was 17,” he says pulling himself to sit up on a desk. A desk that Magnus now recognizes as his fathers. They’ve pulled themselves into his father’s office and if they get caught in here he’ll never hear the end of it, he loves it.

“You played hockey?” Magnus asks lifting himself up to sit beside Alec on the desk ignoring the papers he accidentally topples to the ground.

Alec nods in the affirmative. “I did, that’s why it’s the only sport I can start heckling fights about, everything else is boring.”

Magnus snorts at that, he’s never been partial to any sport himself.

“Did you really do what you said out there?” Alec asks picking up a notepad and flipping through it mindlessly.

“I did,” Magnus smiles and Alec’s eyebrows both go up. “Don’t look so surprised, you’re not the only one capable of mischief.”

“Oh, I see that,” he says with a smile tossing the notepad back to where he found it. “That is kinda sexy you achieved a jump like that and didn’t get hurt.” He says it with his voice low and all sorts of New York around the edges. He freezes his hand stopping over the spot where he’d been about to pick up the ugly green and bronze sphere shaped paper weight beside him.

Magnus freezes too, Alec saying something like that while they’re alone makes it real, not like the fake flirty way he’d said it out in the living room.

“Sorry, that’s not, I’m sorry, I never cross that line when I do these things, we’re alone and,” Alec runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head reaching out and tentatively laying his hand atop Alec’s where it rests on the desk between them.

“It’s okay,” he says and Alec looks at him ready to argue the point. Magnus jumps in stopping him before he can say a word and taking his own leap into making this far more real than fake. “Really, it’s okay. You, uh, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Alec huffs a laugh opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s looking for the right words to say. The space between them feels a little charged now that they’ve floated out the simple fact there’s a real attraction here. Alec closes his mouth and bites his lip looking determined like he knows what to say finally when the door busts open.

“Oh, my apologies boys,” Marissa says standing in the doorway her hands on her hips and a pleased little smile on her lips. “But dinner is served.”

Magnus and Alec pull away from one another quickly hopping off the desk and stepping towards the door.

“You two are just too cute,” Marissa says when they reach her. She loops each of her arms through one of theirs and tugs them down the hall happily. “Don’t listen to a word your father says.”

Magnus meets Alec’s eyes over her head only to find Alec already looking at him, a soft smile on his lips.

***

Magnus takes his proverbial spot on his father’s right at the head of the table, Marissa doing the same on his left. Despite Asmodeus’ clear attempt to keep Alec as far away from him and Magnus as possible by seating him at the far end of the long table he fails. Luckily one of Marissa’s friends, just as airy and tight dressed as her is seated next to Magnus and happily swaps spots with Alec.

Alec lifts his drink to Asmodeus in a faux toast that Asmodeus doesn’t even feign interest in as he takes his seat.

Dinner is served and it’s to be expected. The sweet potatoes are divine none of that weird marshmallow bullshit in them, the mac and cheese is literally to die for and the homemade bread hits in just the right way. The turkey is terrible, but that’s not at the fault of the overpriced chef that’s just simply because it’s an indisputable fact that turkey tastes like napkins.

Alec eats so much Magnus is concerned, he can tell from the tight fit of his shirt that Alec is in impeccable shape so he doesn’t really know where he puts it all as he goes for his fourth serving of mac and cheese.

But long before his fourth serving of cheesy goodness Alec starts up at least three debates that would be deemed far too impolite for their supposed polite company. Each fresh serving he corners someone new into a debate; first it’s an old lady in a pantsuit pulled into a debate about the existence of god, then a forty something who looks like he’s never seen a rainbow without feeling threatened into a talk on the merits of teaching queer history to children and finally a woman who can’t be much older than them who looks like her name is Tinsley or Ainsleigh or something equally as nauseating into a tense bordering on yelling match about the importance of safe abortion access.

He sounds a little more drunk with every conversation and he’s damn good at faking it. He sounds just the right amount of inebriated not slurring his words too much or fumbling around with his silverware, it’s practiced, a master class in being drunk without being drunk. Most people overplay it acting far more outlandish than a drunk person sitting at a table would, but Alec has it down pact.

Magnus watches him not a care in the world, acting like he doesn’t even notice the disruption Alec is causing. The only person aside from Magnus that doesn’t look increasingly more uncomfortable by the minute is Marissa who looks like she’s having the time of her life watching these stuffy rich people squirm.

Asmodeus of course does not look delighted, he barely eats, just scowls over the rim of his wine glass and attempts to deflect any conversation Alec purposely instigates another way unsuccessfully.

The only time he seems to look like he’s not about to have a coronary is when everyone’s plates are finally collected, Alec still shoveling the last bit of mashed potatoes on his plate into his mouth as one of the waiters lifts the plate away from him, and it’s announced that dinner and coffee will be served in the living room.

Alec stands stretching his arms up over his head and Magnus admires the ripple of his muscles as he does so before standing beside him. Alec reaches over the table picking up yet another glass of water and tossing it back with a loud unnecessary thirst quenched sound before holding out his hand to Magnus. Magnus takes it instantly with a smile following along as they head for the living room once again.

***

A waiter takes their dessert requests, a choice of six different types of pie as they file out of the large dining room.

Magnus selects the pumpkin pie, while Alec chooses the chocolate pecan.

“Pecan, gross,” Magnus says as they work their way over to one side of the room a little bit away from everyone else to have just a moment of reprieve.

“How dare you, pecan pie is delicious,” Alec says sounding outright offended.

Magnus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms making a face that screams Alec is insane to have that opinion.

“It’s all sugar, no substance,” Magnus says. He really shouldn’t be surprised Alec’s favorite pie is one as ridiculously sugar based as pecan considering the amount of sugar he witnessed him dump into his coffee a few days prior. Alec doesn’t even deign him with a response, he just gives him another affronted look like Magnus has insulted his entire being, not a pie.

Moments later a waiter hands them each their requested pies. Alec takes a bite of his pointedly making eye contact with Magnus as he does so and making a pleased obnoxious yum sound. Magnus just rolls his eyes again, amused as he takes a bite of his own pie.

“So, are you enjoying yourself so far this evening?” Magnus asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

Alec pauses grabbing a coffee from a passing tray and taking a sip, he grimaces a bit at the black coffee before answering Magnus’ question. Out of the corner of his eye Magnus sees his father watching them, almost looking excited to see Alec drinking a coffee, probably hoping it will sober him up.

“Well, your father is kind of terrible, and all these people are exhausting,” he says gesturing with his fork to the room at large after he sits his coffee on the floor next to him. “But despite the fact she may be a little air headed Marissa is lovely and I get a kick out of making rich people as uncomfortable as possible, so it’s been a pretty good night thus far.”

He pauses taking a bite of his pie and looking at Magnus from underneath his thick dark lashes. “Plus, you know, you’re pretty good company as well,” he says tapping his fork to his lips.

Magnus slow blinks at him and smiles.

“You’re pretty good company as well, especially when you’re just being you, like right now, not the overstated bad boy, even if he is a good time,” Magnus says. He reaches out his empty fork and boops Alec on the nose with it, just because. Alec scrunches up his face adorably at the action.

“Well I like you being you too, though it’s kind of fun you’re playing into my whole act, most people just play the none the wiser partner,” Alec says before leaning down and drinking another glug of his coffee. He makes the same cute displeased face again as he swallows.

“Really? No one’s made it seem like you’ve turned them into a crazy bad boy too?” Magnus says surprised. He’s been having a pretty good time being a little more instigative around his father than he usually would be.

Alec shakes his head. “Not really, Dot tackling her family members was a bit of an outlier, and honestly they’re almost never guys.”

“So I’m your first fake boyfriend then, huh?” Magnus says oddly flattered about the possibility.

“Second actually, but still most of the time I get hired by women, there’s a comfort in knowing that your fake date won’t try to make a move,” Alec says taking the last bite of his sickeningly sweet pecan pie.

“I guess I didn’t have a problem with that prospect,” Magnus says smiling around his fork looking right into Alec’s pretty hazel eyes, all dark rimmed and intent on him.

“I guess you didn’t,” he says with a smile putting his empty plate and mug on a passing tray and leaning back comfortably.

Magnus joins him leaning over by one of the sprawling windows casually finishing off his pie looking up to see one of his father’s political friends, a 30 something councilman of some sort, staring at them nearby. Alec, the little devil, winks at him slow and seductive. The councilman bristles and his wife beside him gives Alec an evil stare.

Magnus laughs a little, thinking that’s it for that interaction when suddenly the click of heels approaches them.

“Did you just wink at my husband?” the woman all but screams at Alec causing him to jump up from his slouch against the windows. Her head shakes as she speaks, her clip-on earrings wobbling.

“I,” Alec starts, but she doesn’t let him get in a word before she’s tossing her glass of white wine right at him.

“Oh, shit,” he says surprised and laughing a bit as he scrubs at his face his already messy eyeliner getting even messier in the process.

“Listen, lady I had no intention, your husband was the one staring,” he shouts back sounding a little more drunk than he did at the dinner table, they weren’t planning on Alec picking a fight tonight, but it seems he’s rolling with the one presented to him.

“Why you little, you little-“ she basically shrieks her husband pulling at her arm trying to stop her from taking this any further. Magnus steps in in front of Alec, a stern look of shutting shit down that he learned from his father on his face.

“You will want to watch your next words very carefully, wouldn’t want your husband’s constituents hearing any bigoted language coming from his already,” Magnus pauses surveying her bejeweled dress that looks like she’s going to a bad 80’s themed prom. “Tacky wife.”

She looks angrier at that, but Magnus’ stern look seems to usher her away, allowing her husband to pull her from the room.

The room is dead silent all eyes on them.

“Alright,” Asmodeus’ voice booms, everyone turning his way. “Show’s over, nightcaps will be served by the barkeep in the library shortly why don’t you all head in there,” he says gesturing to the way of the library. He steps over to Magnus and Alec as does Marissa who instantly hands Alec a towel.

“She’s always been a stick in the mud with bad taste,” Marissa says showing her own dislike for the councilman’s wife. “You didn’t do a thing wrong.” She smiles at them both apologetically before linking her arm in Alec’s and pulling him the way of everyone else. Magnus moves to follow, but is stopped by a hand on his chest from Asmodeus.

“We need to talk,” he says leaving no room for argument. Alec looks back at him from where Marissa is still chattering happily to him, a clear question of if he needs to cause a scene to stay with Magnus in his eyes. Magnus waves him on, watching as they go.

He barely waits until Alec and Marissa are out of ear shot to start in on Magnus.

“I know he’s faking it,” Asmodeus says and that is not what Magnus was expecting. He plays dumb though raising his eyebrows in question.

“Don’t act like you don’t what I’m talking about, I’d venture to say from the looks you two share you know all about it as well. You just brought him here and put on this whole show to embarrass me,” Asmodeus continues with a disappointed sigh. “That man hasn’t had a drop of liquor tonight, every action he’s taken hasn’t been some alcohol fueled mistake it’s been purposeful. He’s probably the most sober person here tonight. As far as I’d guess aside from truly being the black sheep of his family name and that truly atrocious car nothing that’s happened here tonight has been real.”

And alright, yeah Magnus definitely wasn’t expecting this. He expected his father to rail on his choice of partner, to knock Alec’s character and behavior and maybe Magnus’ to boot as well. He didn’t expect him to know exactly what’s been going on all night.

“And before you ask how I figured it out, you really should have made sure your date kept better track of his finished glasses, after dinner he left one behind and it didn’t smell of the vodka we’ve all been convinced he’s been downing all night,” Asmodeus explains. “From there a quick search told me the name was at least true. His family really did cut him out judging from his complete disappearance from all events, not that I can blame them, anyone who behaves this atrociously without influence of alcohol just to play a game probably deserves to be cut off.”

Magnus huffs out an unamused laugh at the underlying implications of his statement.

“Is that a threat?” Magnus says steely eyed.

“It could be, if you don’t get him out of here right this instant and promise to never try anything even close to similar to this charade again,” Asmodeus says just as steely eyed and Magnus hates that he learned the look from him.

For a moment he considers just leaving, hightailing it out of there with Alec and not saying a single other word to his father, but he’s tired. He’s 30 and he’s been putting up with his father’s vague threats if he doesn’t play the good little son role since before he could talk practically and he’s just done.

“No, we won’t be leaving,” Magnus says holding his ground. “And as for this charade well I guess I can promise you nothing like this will ever happen again, because I’m done. I’m done playing some perfectly crafted son that I’m not, I’m done acting like we’re a happy little family, like you won’t get bored of poor, sweet Marissa in no time and there’ll be a new wife on your arm who you’ll pay just as little attention to.”

“You’re right, I did do this to embarrass you, to show those fucking fakes in there that you are the fakest amongst them, even more so than all of them combined. Alec may have been playing a role tonight, but he’s ten times more real than you could ever dream to be. Don’t worry about having to cut me off and making a whole big show of it, I haven’t needed you or your money in years,” Magnus says. He straightens out his shirt and stands with his head held high turning on his heel to join Alec in the library.

***

Magnus is frankly riding high on truly stepping up to his father for the first and likely last time in his life when he saunters into the library scanning around to find Alec. He spots him in the corner chatting with Marissa.

“There you are,” Alec says sounding genuinely concerned. Magnus just smiles at him hoping it looks more assuring than it feels.

Marissa reaches out patting him on the cheek lightly. “Don’t listen to whatever he said, he’s just jealous he’s not as outstanding as you,” she says with a smile.

Magnus is struck in that moment with how much his father doesn’t deserve her, she might be a lot to take sometimes, but she is a genuinely kind woman.

“Nor as outstanding as you,” Magnus says with a smile and she blushes at the compliment. He’s ready to follow that up by telling her that she should leave his father’s ass immediately before he gets the chance to toss her to the side, but someone calls out her name and she’s pulled away smiling at them as she goes.

“Ready for the grand finale?” Alec says as soon as Marissa steps away. The grand finale, right, Magnus and Alec had discussed giving one last show before they left for the night if they managed to make it all the way through dessert. And they have, everyone’s nursing nightcaps ready to exit for the evening, but clearly all lingering around to see if Alec does anything else embarrassing or outlandish before they go.

Mere moments ago Magnus was ready to just storm out of here with Alec at his side and maybe ask Alec if he fancied going on a real date for a late-night drink somewhere.

But now with his father storming into the room after him, glaring and judging, looking quite possibly the most upset he’s ever been with Magnus he can’t seem to find a reason to go just yet.

“Let’s do it,” he says and Alec smiles tossing back his water and acting as if there’s a nice vodka burn to it. He grabs a discarded fork from a table nearby and taps it on his now empty glass so hard that it chips just a bit earning everyone’s attention.

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” he says sounding a little bit like he’s sobered up after the near fight with the councilman’s wife. Most of the room looks their way eagerly like they can’t wait to see what happens next, while a few others apprehensively turn their attention.

“I met this stunning man not all that long ago,” he says laying his hands lightly on Magnus’ shoulders. “But in that short time, I have realized that undisputedly there will never be another for me. From the moment we hooked up in the back of Cherry the night we met,” he says not elaborating at all on that sentence, earning the shocked gasps and confused looks of many. Marissa giggles, Asmodeus seethes not loving this new addition to their fake meet cute story even if he knows it’s all a ruse now. “I knew you were the one, so, Magnus Bane,” he continues on getting down on one knee he pulls the plain silver ring he’s been wearing all night on his middle finger off and presents it to Magnus. “Will you marry me?”

Magnus pretends to be shocked covering his mouth with a gasp. His eyes flit up to where his father stands, looking like he’s about to make some move to physically stop Magnus from answering Alec’s question, like he won’t survive the embarrassment of this room full of people knowing his sons engaged to a degenerate in messed up jeans even if he knows it’s not real. Magnus doesn’t give him the chance immediately looking down at Alec with glassy eyes.

“Yes, Alexander, yes,” he says no longer hiding his amused grin as Alec slips the ring on his finger and lifts up from the ground pulling Magnus into a crushing hug. The room claps tentatively, enthusiastically in Marissa’s case who it seems does not care how insane something is she just loves love. How she ever ended up married to his father, who only truly loves himself, his hardwood floors and his hair is a continual mystery.

“Wanna get the fuck out of here?” Magnus mumbles into Alec’s ear. Alec pulls back from their hug and nods enthusiastically.

“Do I have your permission to bridal carry you out of here?” Alec says lowly ensuring no one can hear him.

“Oh, hell yes,” Magnus says delightedly as Alec lifts him up and makes for the door.

“We’re gonna go celebrate in the back of Cherry again,” Alec announces proudly to the room as he goes. Magnus pats him on the shoulder guiding him to the coat closet where he quickly grabs their jackets, Alec never losing his grip on him.

Asmodeus shouts after them as they head out the door, Alec pausing at his car and planting Magnus down on the ground gently. He tugs at the door three times before it opens gesturing for Magnus to get in as he ignores his father’s bellowing shouts. Alec playfully salutes Asmodeus and slides over the hood of his car bumping into the Porsche beside him setting off it’s car alarm as he lands and slips into the driver’s seat quickly.

He starts the engine peeling out of the space just as Asmodeus reaches the front of the car. Magnus just blatantly ignores him only catching sight of Marissa standing in the door waving their way as they drive off.

***

The ride back is quiet for the first twenty minutes or so, music playing softly as Alec drives drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat.

“My dad figured out you were faking it,” Magnus says with no preamble looking out the window as they go. The roads are mostly empty now people celebrating the holiday into the late hours with their families before waking up at 5 a.m. to Black Friday shop.

“Shit, there goes my Oscar,” Alec says eyes flashing to Magnus quickly with a laugh before focusing back on the road. Magnus chuckles in response.

“Well, it’s an honor just to be nominated,” Magnus smiles tilting his head towards Alec.

Alec snorts a little laugh then turns his head quickly to Magnus once again.

“Did your dad give you a lot of trouble about it?”

“He did, I don’t think I’ll be getting a Christmas invite after I railed back at him,” Magnus says. “But it’s okay. I think it was just a long time coming, bound to happen. Better to get it over with now before I wasted more years trying to seem like I’m something I’m not just to please him.”

Alec comes to a stop at a red light and turns his attention fully to Magnus.

“Are you okay? I mean shitty or not, having a parent cut ties isn’t easy, trust me I know,” he says. Magnus watches him enjoying the way the red of the stoplight cuts through his dark hair.

Magnus takes a deep breath and gives Alec a small assuring smile.

“I will be,” he says, truly meaning it. The fallout with his father is a lot, but he will be okay. He’s lived without his father being truly present in any form since the day his mother walked out on them, this new world where he’s likely all cut off isn’t anything new really. He’ll manage, hell he might even thrive without the chains of his father’s expectations weighing on him now.

The light turns green and they lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, Magnus completely endeared as he listens to Alec mumbling the lyrics to every other song that comes on the radio under his breath.

When they pull up to the curb outside of Magnus’ house Alec steps out first ever the gentleman helping Magnus with the finicky passenger side door.

He holds out a hand helping Magnus out and smiles when he drops it shutting the door tight.

“Well, thank you for the free meal and the fun night of mischief,” Alec says leaning back against his Thunderbird. His eyeliner is a mess and there’s a faint dried spot along his white shirt stained from the wine incident, he looks beautiful under this streetlight and Magnus wants more night like this. Well maybe not exactly like this one, it’s been a bit of rollercoaster for him emotionally, but nights with Alec all the same.

“Go out with me,” he says not even framing it as a question. He knows Alec is interested too has seen it in the moments where he was just being himself and the appreciative glances he’s given Magnus all night that clearly weren’t just a part of the show he was putting on. And that doesn’t even cover their coffee the other day, the easy way they’d talked and just clicked right off the bat.

“For real, not a fake date or a bad boyfriend show, a real date,” Magnus clarifies when he notices Alec’s surprise.

“I’d like that a lot,” Alec says pushing off the car. He steps a little closer to Magnus leaving just a bit of distance for Magnus to clear if he wants. Magnus does want so he steps up not quite touching Alec, but close enough all he’d have to do is raise a hand. It feels almost like when they were in his father’s office tonight, but even better because they’re alone for real now, there’s no show and no chance of interruptions.

“I need the record to show that I literally never do this, not once, I haven’t even been interested, let alone made any sort of action to make something real out of one of these fake dates,” Alec says low and sincere keeping his eyes on Magnus’ the entire time making sure the words are clear. “You are entirely the exception.”

“Entirely exceptional, actually,” he adds on with a smile. Magnus smiles reaching out his hands to rest on Alec’s chest.

“So are you,” he says patting his hands twice where they rest. “And I believe you aren’t just doing this to pick up hot guys, no worries.” He says with a chuckle and Alec rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Alec asks.

“Nothing, no classes until next Tuesday and most of my friends are out of town for family dinners and what not. I’m as free as a bird,” he says blinking his eyes just a bit flirtatiously at Alec.

“Good, we should get dinner, no family, no bullshit, just us,” Alec says tentatively resting his hands on Magnus’ waist.

“I like the sound of that,” Magnus says lifting up to kiss Alec on the cheek softly just once before pulling back.

“I’ll text you with a time and place in the morning,” he says slowly stepping backwards holding Alec’s steady gaze as he goes. He turns just for a moment putting his key’s in the door and pushing it open before turning back. “Goodnight, Alexander.” He says and watches as Alec smiles a dazzling smile before rounding the car and opening the driver’s side door.

“Goodnight, Magnus,” he says before slipping into his car. Magnus watches with a smile as he pulls away from the curb, his bright red ridiculous Thunderbird speeding away. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he makes his way all the way up to his apartment, so much so that he’s pretty sure his cat is judging him all the way to bed.

***

One Year Later

Magnus’ phone buzzes insistently his ringtone blaring on the nightstand.

“Stop that,” he says weakly reaching out an arm to silence it, his hand falling to the nightstand and coming up empty once, twice, three times while it continues to ring. It’s far too loud and far too early on a holiday with no responsibilities for this.

A chuckle comes from above him and warmth reaches over brushing his fingers before gripping the phone and pulling back.

“Magnus Bane’s phone,” Alec answers his voice a little lower and rougher than usual from sleep. It’s a very nice sound. Magnus can’t hear who’s on the other end of the line, but when he flips over he sees Alec smile and perk up a bit leaning back against the headboard.

“Yeah it is Alec, it’s good to know you remember me, Marissa,” he says and Magnus raises an eyebrow he’s only heard from his father’s wife once since last Thanksgiving, an apologetic text on his father’s behalf. His father on the other hand hasn’t so much as sent a sternly worded email in that time.

“Yeah, he’s here, hold on sec,” Alec says, he lowers the phone offering it to Magnus who grumbles a bit lifting himself up and leaning against the headboard next to Alec.

“Hi, Marissa,” he says clearing his throat a bit.

“Magnus!” she shouts into his ear and he jumps back a bit, from the both the volume and from shock hearing that she’s finally dropped her terrible nickname for him. “I was glad to hear Alec answer the phone, I knew you two were a good match, even if it was all a show that night.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. “So father told you.”

“He did, but it doesn’t change that you two are the cutest,” she says. “Which speaking of your father,” she starts and Magnus is ready to shoot down any attempt at reuniting she’s trying to pull here. Marissa is a nice woman, but his father’s silence in the past year has spoken volumes, he’s not playing into a reconciliation he can’t even make the call for.

“I left him,” she says finishing her sentence. Magnus huffs out a little surprised laugh that Alec raises an eyebrow at, well good for her. “About a month ago and I know it’s incredibly short notice and you might have other plans, but I’m having a little Thanksgiving dinner of my own with a few friends this year and I’d love to see you. And Alec too, of course!”

Magnus smiles, they’d had a Friendsgiving slash one year anniversary celebration over the weekend with Raphael, Cat, Dot, Ragnor and Alec’s siblings, tonight’s plans were likely going to consist of Chinese takeout on the couch and making out. And while Marissa can be a lot she was always kind, and he can’t help but recall how supportive she’d been that night a year ago. He can’t find it in himself to turn down her offer because of it.

“We’d love to,” he says and Alec looks at him again in question. Magnus just waves a hand signaling he wait a moment for explanation. On the other end of the line Marissa claps excitedly.

“Yay!” she says. “I’ll text you my address, I’m in the city now so Alec might have to leave Cherry at home.”

Magnus laughs. “Oh, he might bring her anyways.”

He chats idly with Marissa for a few more minutes before disconnecting and promising they’ll be on much better behavior this year for dinner.

“Marissa left my father,” Magnus says as soon as he’s hung up and tossed his phone back on the nightstand. Alec smiles looking just as oddly proud for her as Magnus feels. “And we’re having Thanksgiving with her and some friends tonight.”

“Good for her,” he says flipping back the covers and getting out of bed. “Should I get out the eyeliner and torn up jeans for tonight just for old times’ sake, or no?”

He smirks standing gloriously naked in front of the dresser rustling through one of his drawers. His drawers. Magnus isn’t quite used to the lovely novelty of the fact that Alec lives with him now. It’s been about two months since they made it official and just seeing one of Alec’s crappy romance novels on the coffee table or his shitty leather jacket hanging in its permanent space in their closest still makes him feel all sorts of tingly.

Magnus hums in thought rising up from bed and moving to lean against the dresser beside Alec. He’d pay good money to get Alec to wear eyeliner more often frankly.

“I think you should bring both of those things out as often as you’d like,” he says reaching out a hand and cupping Alec’s cheek turning it towards him. The feel of Alec’s soft, shaven skin is something he also isn’t quite used to. For the first time in their year together he’d shaved off his beard entirely, completely out of the blue and for no other reason than he’d had a day off and was bored. He’s as handsome as ever, but Magnus had quite literally had to do a double take when he came home and saw Alec sitting on the couch.

“Do try and leave the illustrious tales of our sexual escapades at home this time though, darling,” he says with a smile. He’s mostly joking, but now that their sexual escapades are real and not fictionalized he’d like to keep them just between them.

“Damn, well there goes all my dinner conversation topics,” Alec says with a wicked little smile.

“Menace,” Magnus says as he slides his hand down from Alec’s face to his chest with a shake of his head.

Magnus runs his fingers lightly through the hair on Alec’s chest stopping to rest on the stark black tattoo on his lower abdomen. And boy hadn’t it been a blissful discovery to see that ink when he finally got Alec’s shirt off for the first time. He trails his fingers over the shape of it lightly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“If you keep doing that we’ll never leave this room,” Alec says his lips tilting up in a little pleased smirk.

“Doing what?” Magnus says innocently still moving his fingers over the shape of the tattoo lightly.

“And you say I’m the menace,” Alec says leaning in to kiss him on the lips once hard and bruising. “We need to shower.” He says stepping away from Magnus. Magnus’s hand falls and he pouts laying it on a bit thick. Alec pointedly attempts to ignore it.

“Together?” Magnus says with a hopeful smile.

Alec rolls his eyes. “I feel like despite having literal hours to get ready we’ll end up late somehow if we do,” he says eyeing Magnus’ bare form appreciatively. “But there’s no way I can say no to that.”

Magnus smirks pushing himself off the dresser and right up against Alec.

“Damn straight,” he says before leaning in to lay a teasing, promising kiss on his lips.

“There is absolutely nothing straight about this,” Alec says with a toothy smile once he’s pulled back already tugging Magnus into the bathroom for their shower. Magnus laughs loud and bright as he’s dragged along.

***

Impossibly despite literal hours, Alec’s right, showering together does prolong the entire process of getting out of the apartment when showering becomes shower sex, which becomes another round on the bathroom counter which results in needing to shower again, separately this time much to both their dismays.

Eventually though, they’re dressed and ready. Magnus finishes up the last touches on his hair, adjusting the bright almost golden streak at the front of it which compliments the golden chained pattern of his shirt. He picks up the ring Alec fake proposed to him with last year and twists it onto his right-hand ringer finger with a smile. They obviously aren’t actually engaged, but increasingly lately Magnus finds himself thinking about making it real.

He gives himself one last once over in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom to find Alec sitting cross legged on their bed and Magnus is nearly sent back in time to a year ago.

He’s wearing the jeans and boots just like he had that night, his eyeliner is in place a little less messy but still unpracticed and his hair is its usual tussled self. The shirt is almost the same, this time it’s one Magnus gave him with subtle lines of shiny black at the collar and cuffs, the little black loops in his ears are a gift from Magnus as well.

It’s a perfect combination of that first night when they were a fake couple out to cause mayhem and the couple they are now, a royal we couple that are so deep in love Magnus has to just take a few breaths in sometimes to remember this is all real.

“Ready to go?” Alec asks looking up at Magnus with a smile. Magnus nods as Alec stands throwing on his leather jacket with the hole in it he refuses to fix. Magnus follows suit grabbing his own jacket and following Alec out as he grabs his keys and wallet scratching the heads of both cats curled up on the back of the couch as he goes.

“We could take the subway you know?” Magnus says once they’re in the elevator, Alec twirling the keys to his Thunderbird around his finger.

Alec scrunches up his face adorably. “No way,” he says gesturing for Magnus to step out first when they reach the lobby. “Cherry helping us fight through Thanksgiving traffic is gonna be a lifelong tradition for us.”

Lifelong Magnus likes the sound of that, but he is dubious that Alec’s precious car will last anywhere near that long.

Alec rushes to the car parked proudly and loudly right in front of their building unlocking it and pulling four times on the passenger door before getting it open.

He smiles at Magnus gesturing with an overstated bow for him to get in and Magnus rolls his eyes but can’t seem to hide his smile and Alec knows it. He shuts the door once Magnus is in and in a move reminiscent of their escape from his father’s last year slides over the hood before slipping into his own seat and starting the car driving off to a much better Thanksgiving than the year before.

#my fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec fic

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babysubinnie · 4 years ago

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your grace // choi byungchan

🧚🏻‍♂️ pairing:: choi byungchan x reader 🧚🏻‍♂️ genre:: fluff, angst, pure cuteness tbh 🧚🏻‍♂️ words:: 1.8k 🧚🏻‍♂️ summary:: the duke of jeonju was the most wanted single man that the whole world wanted. the fact that he was paying attention to no one but you, gave the world something to talk about.

a/n: based off bridgerton but more modern because that’s my favorite show besides true beauty,, so here it is,, there is a lot of made up, don’t laugh i tried my best to make it amazing. ——————————————————————————

he was the most wanted bachelor that every single girl in the entirety wanted this duke. when he left, he was about 13 so no one knew how he would turn out, no he didn’t even say bye to me before leaving. but when he turned 20, he came back and won everyone’s hearts. all the mothers wanted their girls to be with him. except my mother.

“come on y/n!” one last pull of my corset as my mother screamed up to me. i held in my breath one more time and i was completely tied into my dress. i looked down at the dress in the mirror to see that this dress was my favorite dress in the whole world.

as i headed down the stairs i thought about the fact that everyone who was everyone this season was going to be there. i was nervous but excited at the same time. i was the first one in our family to be presented to society, so i was nervous as hell. getting into the car made me more nervous than i was supposed to be. my phone started going off and when i picked up the phone, it was my sister, valeria.

“hey what’s up?” i smiled making eye contact with my mom because i know she would be pissed off because of how i said hi to val. i laughed then listened to what val was about to say.

“he’s going to be there. he’s back.” val said super seriously, i’m honestly being serious when i say that she has never been so serious in my 20 years of life. she was three years younger than me but she was always the crazy one out of the two of us.

choi byungchan. he was the love of my life when we were kids. everything about him was perfect. i mean we promised to get married when we were kids, and now that we’re at the age of marriage, i don’t think that’s going to happen. there were girls chasing after him every single second that he came back. he probably didn’t even remember me. he was a duke now, and apparently he came back for one reason and one reason only, but no one knew why.

“when the fuck did he get back?” i looked up to see my mom swearing at me with my eyes when i swore. i laughed looking down at my feet thinking about what i’m going to say if he comes to talk to me.

“a week ago. apparently he’s being a dick. he’s acting like he owns the world, but everyone is saying that he came back for only one reason. to find the love of his life.” she scoffed the second we turned into the mansion we were having the ball at. i laughed rolling my eyes looking up at my mother smiling.

“he isn’t the duke of jeonju for no reason.” i laughed then quickly told her that i had to go. when we got out of the car, there was a whole ass red carpet, and a whole bunch of photographers. this ball was organized by the duchess of seoul that everyone knew and loved. she was known for her incredible parties, even her teas were amazing.

“you better behave tonight. no mucking around, got it?” my mother scoffed stepping to the side to let me pass. i smiled at her nodding before walking down the red carpet. as i walked down, there were more reporters than i thought. i smiled at every single one and when i got to the end, my mother was there to walk me in. the entire time i was thinking about byungchan. he was finding the love of his life?

“lee y/n, presented by her mother, from the lee family.” when we walked in, the ballroom was a retro theme, a 1920s theme. i looked around before telling my mother that i was going to take a quick walk around. all the girls at this party were glaring at me as i walked in, but i didn’t care. when i turned to the side to greet one of the marchioness’, i saw him. the duke of jeonju.

he was wearing a black suit, no tie, just a jacket, and a white shirt underneath. his hair was pushed back, so his forehead was showing. my god did he grow up well. i was going to be honest, but i wanted to go up to him and kiss him.

as the night went on, i tried to avoid him regardless of anything. near the end of the ball, after thousands of dances with all the suitors, my mother had told me that there were a bunch of suitors that were waiting to ask for my hand.

“you ready to go?” i smiled nodding when my mom put her arm around mine. i smiled bowing at all of the people that we had walked past until we walked towards the door. i was helping my mom hold her dress and as i kept trying to pick up her dress, there were a pair of Christian Louboutin’s. i looked up, and the man that everyone this season was begging to marry, was looking down at me.

“byu- your grace.” i smiled weakly keeping all my emotions inside me walking around him to the car. as we were walking down the stairs, my mom had let go of my arm at one point to basically run to the car. i stared at her with my mouth open about to chase her when my wrist was pulled back.

“you’re not even talking to me now?” he scoffed at me standing on a few steps higher than the step i was standing on. he looked into the distance before stepping down the stairs to stand on the same step as i was.

“i have to go. excuse me your grace.” i curtsied subtly before starting to walk off. yet again, he pulled me back again rolling his eyes gripping onto my wrist with one hand and putting his free hand into his pocket. he continued to stare a hole into my face when i noticed that the viscount’s daughter had come out to stare at me. no, glare at me. she was all over byungchan all night so naturally she would be pissed if he suddenly started paying attention to anyone except himself.

“stop calling me that. do you know the reason why i came back y/n?” he lifted my chin when i continued to stare down at the ground. i didn’t want to look into his eyes. i looked to the side seeing there were still reporters.

“i don’t care, choi byungchan.” i shook my head looking into his eyes shrugging in a way that i knew would piss him off. he hated when i gave smart comments.

“i’m going to tell you regardless.” he leaned into whisper into my ear smiling. when he pulled away, he was inches away from my face, now smirking at me. i rolled my eyes looking away from him.

“i came back to make you the duchess.”

“byungchan- i can’t marry you. it doesn’t work like this.” i shook my head looking around frantically to see if there was any way out of this, but there wasn’t. i waited for this moment my entire life and it was actually happening but i rejected him. he pulled away from me staring down at my face biting his lip nervously. the more i looked up at him, the more i realized that i still loved this man.

“we promised to get married.” his jaw tightened as i looked up at him. we were already standing really close together and it didn’t help that the two of us were being watched.

“that was when we were kids. it’s not the same now is it?” i shook my head pulling away from him before running down the stairs fast knowing that if i stayed longer, i would have made a bad mistake. why didn’t i want it to happen? no wait, i know why, it’s because of the fact that he left without saying anything. without even telling me. without even thinking of me before he left.

“byungchan, i’ll be the duchess.” i turned around to look at the viscount’s daughter who was now all over him smirking at me. i rolled my eyes laughing getting into the car. my mom smiled nervously at me as i glared at her when i got into the car. i couldn’t even say anything to my mom because i was so pissed off at her.

“i thought you didn’t want me to get married to byungchan.” i rolled my eyes half way home. i looked to the side to see that she was smiling brightly. the reason that she didn’t want me to get married to byungchan was because she didn’t want him to break my heart because it’s not the first time that he would have broken a heart.

“i’ve always wanted you two to get married. i just wanted to see if you liked him enough to fight back for the fact that i didn’t want you two to get married.” she laughed while i sat there staring at her in shock. after 20 years, this is how she felt about byungchan?

“where are you going y/n?” val screamed at me when i abruptly stood up grabbing my jacket, a key to one of the cars, and drove as fast i could. the rain made it hard to drive, but i could do it. i couldn’t see a anything, it was completely pouring down cats and dogs, but before i could really freak out, i arrived.

i ran out of the car and up to the huge wooden door. i rang the doorbell taking deep breaths trying to catch my breath as i stood in front of the door. i was soaking from head to toe now but it was worth it. i hope. after a while no one replied so i pressed the bell again but this time, i knew it was worth it. i looked up to see byungchan’s bright smile, his tall figure standing there with his eyes glued to the floor but looked up when he apologized.

“i’m sorry my staf- y/n holy shit get in here.” byungchan pouted pulling me into the house with both of his hands on my wrists staring at me before calling majority of his staff to where the two of us were standing.

“run her a bath, get an outfit from my closet for her, make hot chocol-” before he could finish, i had to say what i needed to or i would never have the guts to do it again. i had to do it now.

“byungchan.” i laughed when he was ranting, but he continued to give his orders. i pulled his sleeve giggling to him when he looked down at me.

“marry me.” i smiled looking up to him batting my eyelashes at him. he chuckled pressing his lips to mine moving his hands from my wrists to my waist.

“i’m supposed to ask that but you don’t have to ask me twice your grace.”

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giuliafc · 4 years ago

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Caught in the Loop

Read on Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad

Chat Noir bets to Ladybug that he loves the girl behind the spots, no matter who she is. Ladybug bets to Chat Noir that he's only her partner and best friend, she doesn't love him 'that' way. What happens when they accept to get caught into a spiritual 'loop' , living through many alternate realities to prove that they're right and win their bet? They end up losing it, of course. They lose *ROYALLY*. Lovesquare identity reveal with a twist!

Written for the March 2021 Writer-Artist Collab! Collab with ThatCattyCatCult (tumblr.com) here on Tumblr :)

Written by JuliaFC

Part of the March 2021 Writer-Artist collab for the Miraculous Fanworks server. The art in the story has been made by @TheCattyCatCult

Betas: KhanOfAllOrcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama, Malauu-Ladynoir, Genxha

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc; TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOo

Part 1 - The bet

“Pound it!” Ladybug and Chat Noir’s gaze locked as they fist bumped after the latest akuma attack.

The fight hadn’t been that hard and they still had a couple of minutes to spare. Luckily, because the students of Françoise Dupont didn’t seem to want to let them go; Alya especially was pressing on their ribs like a thorn.

“Can you spare a word for the Ladyblog?” she asked excitedly, while plenty of other voices came from everywhere and nowhere, “Please, Ladybug, can I have an autograph?” “Chat Noir! Chat Noir, please smile at the camera!” The warning beep of their Miraculous rang worryingly unheard in the confusion.

“Sorry, guys, but we need to go,” tried to say Ladybug before being wrapped in yet another hug for a picture by yet another student. “Yes, it’s time to s-cat…” But the students still didn’t seem to want to let them go. Eventually the beep became stronger and Chat Noir grabbed Ladybug bridal style and, using his baton, he lifted both of them up and off from the crowd.

“As we said already: sorry, guys, we need to go!” He jumped out of the way, to then fall unnoticed in front of the door of the locker room.

“We don’t have time to find a place to hide!” said Ladybug worriedly.

Chat Noir sighed. Out went his chance of pretending that he didn’t know the school. “Come with me, there’s a place that I know.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her away (just in time, because the locker door opened as soon as they moved and Chat Noir didn’t want to know who the student that had just come out of it was). He ran with her and reached the side of the library, quickly opening a closet door and disappearing inside it with her, closing it behind them. He had just done that, that in a flash of green and pink, their transformation fell. They could only turn around and stand back-to-back, their hearts racing in their chests. Tikki and Plagg came out of their Miraculouses with a twirl and fell into their hands.

“Gamin, that was close,” said Plagg panting.

“I need food, *burp*!” Tikki burped purple bubbles. “Whoops, sorry,” she concluded.

Marinette reached for her little purse and took out a macaron, which she handed to her little red friend gently. The kwami picked it up and started chewing on it with a thankful gleam in her eyes. On the other side, Plagg was doing the same with a slice of cheese.

“I’ve never seen this closet, Chat Noir,” said Marinette, sitting down on the ground, immediately imitated by her partner behind her. She pulled her legs close to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

Chat Noir fell silent for a long time. A suspiciously long time. After an even longer time, Marinette cleared her throat. “Elementary school, huh?”

Chat Noir was silent again. Only after a little while did she hear him say shakingly, “I had to say something.”

Marinette’s heart pounded in her chest. Was he admitting it? Was he a student at Françoise Dupont too? Marinette knew that she shouldn’t ask this information. She really shouldn’t, because it could jeopardise his identity, but she didn’t think before connecting her brain to her mouth. “So that’s why Plagg was here.”

She felt his head shoot up behind her and rest against the back of hers. “Careful, M’lady. Tikki was here too.” Her heart started pounding in her chest. Shoot. After all her hard work during the Kwamibuster’s fight, it only took one sentence to blow her carefully crafted cover.

She chuckled dryly. “So what? It’s a big school, there are hundreds of girls and boys studying here, Chat Noir. It’s not as if you’re sitting in front of me in class.”

Tikki facepalmed. Why did Tikki facepalm?

“I could,” came his voice from behind her back.

Her dry chuckle turned into a laugh. “Yeah, right… that would be close to impossible. Just think about it!”

“Why? Who’s sitting in front of you? A girl?” he asked. She didn’t like the tone of doubt in his voice as he asked that. Nor did she like the fact that he sounded as if he was genuinely interested and inquiring.

“Chat? We shouldn’t have this conversation. It’s already dangerous enough that now we both know that we attend the same school. It’s too dangerous to reveal our identities while Hawkmoth is still around.”

She clearly felt him tense behind her back. “Why is that, Buginette? What would change? You already know the identity of all the other holders, and you also have the entire Miracle Box hidden somewhere. If Hawkmoth gets his hands on the Miracle Box we would have a really hard time fighting against a whole team of superheroes. It would be dangerous anyway. What would change if we knew each other’s identities?”

Marinette sighed. His words rang true to her and she couldn’t deny that she had thought about it a few times and had always come to a similar conclusion. What was it that was wrapping such fear around her heart when she so much as considered the idea of revealing her identity to him? “Please, Chat, you know we can’t.”

She felt him crouch over himself. “It’s just… frustrating. We were talking about it the other day, Plagg and I. He was also there saying that because you’re the Guardian I should know who you are and you should know who I am. What happens if he’s sick, M'lady? Or if anything happens to me and I can’t return my Miraculous to you? The Black Cat is a powerful weapon in the wrong hands. You can’t afford to lose it like Master Fu did with the Butterfly and Peacock.” He said all of that in just one breath, or at least Marinette thought he did, because there was no pausing in between his words, it was all coming out at once.

“Wow, you have really put some thought into it,” she concluded.

She had to admit that what he had said again rang true to her. She knew that kwamis could get sick. Tikki had been sick once, after all; Plagg could be next. And the time Tikki had been sick, she had had to take Marinette to the Guardian. What if Plagg was so out of it that he wouldn’t be able to tell Chat Noir where to go?

“You know, Chat Noir has a point,” said Tikki in a very low voice. Marinette looked at her warily.

“I know, Tikki.” She sighed and hugged her legs more tightly, frowning looking at the air in front of her face. “I know, you’re right, chaton.” She heard his loud gasp from behind her and added quickly, “However… even though I know you’re right I still—I still can’t get myself to do it.”

“But why? Why, M’lady? Why don't you trust me? I know I’ve been a bit unreliable when you left for New York, but I had been forced to go myself. And beside then, did I ever give you any reason for—”

“No, you didn’t, Chat,” she interrupted his ramble. “And I know you’re right but…” She felt her throat clenching shut and tears starting to prickle at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. The truth is that I’m scared. I’m terrified to change our balance. We’ve worked so well as a duo up to now, if we reveal our identities and the balance changes…”

“What would change? We would just put an unmasked face and a name in the equation. Why would it change anything if I think of you as Ladybug or... Marcelline or Martha or Marvel or Marinette?”

Marinette gasped so loudly that she had to move and peeked quickly by opening a small crack on the closet door to make sure that nobody had heard and was going to open the door on them all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” asked Chat Noir. “Did I say something wrong?”

Marinette blushed crimson even though she knew that he couldn’t see it because he was back to back with her. How did he still remember the only slip up she had ever had about her identity, that first day when they faced Stoneheart? “Uh, no, you didn’t say anything wrong. You’re right.” Her breath caught. “I-I m-mean ,y-you’re r-right in y-your theory…”

She felt Chat Noir scratch his head. “Yeah. What else could I be right about?”

“N-nothing…”

It was Chat Noir’s turn to gasp. “I got your name right, didn’t I? Your name is one of those!” She couldn’t avoid tensing up and that was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “M’lady, you know that, whoever you are, I would love you regardless.”

Marinette chuckled. “You always say that, minou, but would you really?”

“I swear I would! That day when we faced Stoneheart, when you spoke with Hawkmoth the first time, I saw the way you put your fears aside and faced that monster all by yourself. I heard the way you spoke to reassure the people of Paris that we were going to protect them, even if we both didn’t have a clue how things would have worked out. You were so brave, so passionate, so fierce, so compassionate, so… amazing. I felt something break in me and next thing I knew I was head over heels in love with you.”

“Chat, I’m not fierce and brave in real life!”

He grabbed her hand with his and Marinette jumped a little for the skin to skin contact. That time when the faced Knight Owl she had touched his naked hand, but it hadn’t felt half as intimate as this. “I’m sure that you are, Buginette.”

“And… I could be very ugly. Very fat. I could be a boy for all you know.”

“You wound me, M’lady. I’m not that shallow. I fell in love with the girl within.” Then he fell silent for a long moment and Marinette could feel the mad beating of her heart right into her ears. “And you can’t be a boy.”

She tried pulling her hand off his grip but he didn’t let her and started moving his thumb on her bare skin. This caused Marinette’s heart to do funny things in her chest but when she felt how tensed his shoulders were behind her, she realised that probably it was the same for him too.

“You got me,” she said softly. “I’m not a boy.”

“That’s good, because I’m not into other boys, as far as I know.”

Marinette giggled. “Well, after all, you only flirt with girls.”

More silence wrapped up the secluded room. “Can I ask a question?” said Chat Noir’s voice from behind her.

“Yes?” she tentatively answered.

“Why have we started talking about my feelings for you?” He paused significantly. Marinette felt her heart skipping a beat. “I mean, we were talking about revealing identities and you not wanting to do it. Have you caught feelings for me finally, M'lady? Are you afraid I wouldn’t love the girl behind the mask?”

Marinette’s heart did again some funny things in her chest as he said so. She gulped awkwardly. “N-no, I told you I like another boy. That hasn’t changed, Chat.”

She felt him slump his shoulders behind her. Her lips curled in a small smile. “Then why? Why does it matter to you if I would love you without the mask?”

Marinette sucked her breath in. “Uh. I-I d-don’t know. It just b-bugs me every time you say it.”

“Was that a pun, M’lady?” He chuckled.

“Of course not! It really annoys me.” She raised a little her tone of voice as she felt blood rushing to her face again.

“But why would it bother you or annoy you if you didn’t have feelings for me? You know what I think?” He poked her in her back with his elbow until she ‘mh?’-ed dubiously. “I bet you’ve developed some feelings for me and you just don’t want to admit it!” She could nearly hear his smirk.

“Not going to happen, minou. It just annoys me when you say it. As if you could just look at me detransform and accept whatever would come in front of your eyes. I bet that you wouldn’t love EVERYONE who could appear behind the Ladybug mask. There must be someone you would rather be me than anybody else.”

“Wanna bet? Such a shame that there’s no way that I can prove to you the depth of my feelings for you, M’lady or I definitely would.”

“You’re right, there’s no way to prove who would be right or not. I would love to prove to you that I’m definitely not having feelings towards you. You’re just my best friend, chaton.”

She heard Chat Noir behind her take some breath in, as if he was about to answer. But as he did that, they heard someone cough politely, so they both turned towards the origin of the sound and saw Tikki and Plagg looking at them with a gleam of annoyance in their eyes.

“Actually, there would be a way,” deadpanned Plagg.

“But it’s something that hasn’t been done for a very long time, nearly a millennium,” warned Tikki.

Plagg folded his paws to his tiny chest. “Yep. But it has been done and it’s possible, Sugarcube.”

Both Marinette and Chat Noir looked at their two kwamis in amazement. “What are you talking about, Plagg?” asked Chat Noir eventually.

Tikki sighed. “There’s a very, very ancient spell that hasn’t been used for nearly a millennium. It was mostly used for training purposes. Training of our holders.”

Marinette squirmed a little her eyes and looked at Tikki. “What do you mean, Tikki?”

“It’s called ‘the loop’. It’s yet another power that you get when you combine our Miraculouses.” Plagg looked at Marinette very seriously. “It’s not the Wish. It doesn’t change reality for real. It just wraps you two in a loop to learn a lesson.”

“Or to get clarity on a doubt,” concluded Tikki. “It was used solely for spiritual training.”

“How does it work?” said Chat Noir. Tikki sighed.

“You unify us and then ask for the loop. The loop creates a, well, loop, that creates in your mind a repetition of events that can bring clarity in your doubt.”

Plagg continued, “Basically it creates new realities, but only in your head. Since there are no consequences for anybody, as it is only in your head, it is not forbidden in the same way as the Wish.”

“Are you sure it won’t have bad consequences like with the Wish, Tikki?” asked Marinette. “Master Fu has always warned me not to unify you and Plagg.”

“It won’t have consequences that can change the balance of the universe, so in that sense it’s not a bad thing. But it’s still something you should consider very carefully,” pressed Tikki. “It could lead to you two understanding each other’s identities.”

“How?” asked both of them at the same time.

Tikki sighed. “You will understand if you decide to take on the loop. But one thing you need to remember if you do so.” Both teen agers looked very intently at the red kwami. “This loop creates entire realities in your head. You will be unconscious in this world and won’t be able to wake up until in your heart you will get clarity on whether you won or lost your bet. You will be bound in the reality you’re exploring and will have to take any difference between it and the “real world” as fact and just go with the flow. Don’t resist them or the loop won’t work.”

“I don’t know,” sighed Marinette. “It sounds so complicated.” But as she said that, she felt an elbow poking her ribs.

“Come on!” said Chat Noir. “Are you afraid of finding out that you are indeed in love with me, M’lady?”

She sucked her breath in. “No way! Maybe you should be afraid to find out that there’s no way that you can love just blindly whoever it is behind this mask!”

Chat Noir folded his arms on his chest. “There’s only one way of finding out!”

Anger started pooling into Marinette’s heart. Anger and a feeling of competition. Competition because she was being challenged. And she wasn’t the type to give up a challenge without a fight. She would prove to her kitty that she was right.

“Okay then. Give me your ring.” She distinctly felt Chat Noir gulping next to her. She presented her hand to him, expecting him to put the ring in her palm immediately, but the boy hesitated.

“What are you waiting for, Chat Noir? Christmas?”

She heard her partner breathe in to start talking at least four times. But he didn’t say anything and eventually, she felt the heaviness of the Black Cat ring on her palm. With a little sigh, she wore the ring on her own finger, watching as it changed from black to pink.

“Don’t worry, chaton. I will give it back to you,” she said calmly. Then she looked at the two kwamis in front of her and said it firmly, “Tikki, Plagg, Unify!” The two creatures got wrapped in a flash of light and their bodies merged together. Marinette looked down, as the light was very strong and hurt her eyes and heard Chat Noir gasping. “What is it, minou, if you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.”

He sniggered next to her and tsk-ed a couple of times. “Let’s see how cocky you are after you wake up and you realise that you’ve lost, Buginette.”

“Likewise, Chaton!”

When Marinette looked up, she couldn’t avoid widening her eyes. In place of Tikki and Plagg there now was a different kwami. A kwami that brought back memories that she would have preferred to keep buried into her subconscious for the rest of her days. It was a cat-like kwami, but its piercing blue eyes were the same shape as Tikki’s. It was completely snow white with black spots in the places where Tikki had her spots, and antennae at the front of its cat ears.

“I’m Chaoss. Who summoned me?” it said, its voice deep and strong. It sounded a voice too powerful for coming from a kwami that was a mixture of sweet Tikki and goofy Plagg.

“W-we’re the wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses,” she heard her voice saying without almost realising she was actually saying it. “We want to ask for the loop.”

“Do you know what you’re going to face?” the kwami asked. Its gaze was deep and stern; it didn’t have any of the softness of Tikki or the playfulness of Plagg.

“Tikki and Plagg have told us something about it,” said Chat Noir. Marinette had to force herself to keep her eyes trained on the white kwami, because she hadn’t expected Chat to speak and she had nearly—nearly—turned her head towards him instinctively.

Chaoss’s gaze pierced through their very soul. “I’m amused,” it said with a smirk. “This is going to be great fun.”

“W-what do you mean?” asked Chat Noir, his voice having lost all cockiness all of sudden. He sounded scared. Marinette had to yet again bit her lower lip very hard to resist the urge to turn around to look at him.

“You will experience a series of realities related to your heart’s inner desire. Don’t look at me like that. This is why the loop has only been used for spiritual training. Your inner desire, Black Cat, is to prove to your Lady that your feelings for her are strong and that you love the girl behind the mask truly, no matter who she is or what she looks like.” The kwami smirked and Marinette assumed that Chat Noir must have nodded because Chaoss was looking at him directly when it continued, “You will face exactly that, Black Cat. Are you ready to face the consequences of your choice?”

“I am.” Chat Noir sounded so sure of himself that Marinette’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure at all. All her cockiness was only due to her competitive spirit and now that the possibility of the loop had become real, she didn’t feel confident anymore at all. That and the fact that Chaoss looked really creepy and was digging up memories in her heart that she really wished she had forgotten about.

But she couldn’t give it more thought, because Chaoss’s gaze locked into hers and her whole back tensed.

“And you, Lady Luck.” Marinette blushed crimson, she didn’t know why. “Are you so sure that your feelings towards him are only platonic?”

“Y-yes.”

The kwami’s gaze was so stern that Marinette felt as if it burned a hole in her soul.

“Are you certain that you wouldn’t miss his flirty ways and his puns if he didn’t use them anymore?”

“Yes!” That was much easier to say.

“Funny you say that,” smirked the white kwami. Marinette frowned. “You told him so many times that he’s irreplaceable, right?”

Marinette’s frown deepened. It was like talking to an old friend but to a new person at the same time. “Y-yes?”

“If he didn’t flirt with you and didn’t pun, wouldn’t he be like a different person?” The white kwami gave her again a look that seemed to be piercing her whole soul.

Shoot. She hadn’t thought about it in these terms. She didn’t know what to say and couldn’t bear to hold that icy blue stare, so Marinette lowered her gaze and flushed pink.

“Tell the truth, M’lady, you would miss my puns.” Chat Noir elbowed her jokingly.

Marinette groaned. “No way! I just wis—” but the second she said the word, a red gleam flashed through the white kwami’s icy gaze.

“Enough! Don’t say the forbidden word. Remember what you’re doing, Lady Luck.” The kwami’s voice was so deep and cavernous that Marinette was left terrified.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. She flushed crimson. She was the Guardian of the Miracle Box. She was wearing the two strongest Miraculouses in the world, unified. She had nearly inadvertently made the Wish that would change reality. Oh she was SO not ready for this responsibility!

She felt a tight grip clench on her throat and tears started to worm their way out of the corner of her eyes, but before she could utter even one strangled sob, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Once again, he was at her side. He believed in her. He wanted her to feel his support. Her heart swelled for the gratitude that she felt towards the boy next to her. She nearly (again, so nearly) turned towards him, but she refrained from doing so at the last second.

“Tikki and Plagg were right. There’s so much chaos inside your soul that you need the loop to gain clarity and order. Order will make you stronger.” The white kwami started floating higher.

“I thought your name was Chaoss?” asked Chat Noir. “And you want to make order in our souls?”

The little white kwami sniggered. “Yes, Black Cat. There’s no Order without Chaos. There’s no Creation without Destruction. Chaos leads the way to Order in the same way as Destruction leads the way to Creation. Two parts of a whole. You need chaos to create order. You need death to allow life. Creation left alone would eventually produce death.”

“It kind of makes sense,” said Chat Noir.

“In a very twisted kind of way, yeah,” continued Marinette.

Chaoss smirked and flew again higher than their heads. “Good. You don’t need to understand it all, Black Cat and Lady Luck. But there are a couple of things that you do need to understand, and accept.” It turned towards Chat Noir. “You, Black Cat.” Chaoss paused significantly. “You will see many different realities in the loop. One of them will be real.”

“Wh—” started Chat Noir, but Chaoss’s cold gaze turned sterner.

“I won’t say. The first one? The last one? Any one in between? You just need to know that one will be the real deal. I will leave it to you to decide what to do with that information, and with what it will mean to you.”

Then, Chaoss’s gaze moved to Marinette and she couldn’t avoid gulping dryly. “You, Lady Luck.” The white kwami closed his electric blue eyes and sighed before opening them again.

“Your challenge will be different, but no less difficult. Maybe more difficult, in fact. The realities you’ll explore don’t exist. None of them exist. But they exist within themselves and within themselves the people who live them are real. Don’t fight them, or the loop won’t work. Remember that they may be alternate realities to this one, they may not exist, but they are still related to, and very much linked to this reality. You can think of them as ‘what if’s’. You will see, and experience, things that will surprise you. You may be shocked at some points, or feel as if you want to rip your heart out of your chest. But don’t fight the reality. Live it as if it were real. There’s a lesson in each and every of them, and the lesson is true.”

Marinette closed her eyes shut and breathed heavily before nodding. When she opened her eyes again, Chaoss was staring at both of them, a wide smirk on its lips.

“This will be fun. Not for you, but it will be fun.” The kwami flew higher. “Ladybug. Chat Noir. You called for my power and you asked for the loop. You’ve been informed of the consequences of your request. Are you ready to begin?”

Marinette started feeling hot. And cold. And hot again. Her frame was shaking so heavily that her teeth started chattering. “Y-yes.” She nodded a couple of times, as if trying to convince herself that it was okay, even if it wasn’t. She heard Chat Noir say the same thing, with a voice as shaky as hers.

“Good. Get ready to both lose your bets, kids. See you next time!” Marinette widened her eyes. What made Chaoss so certain that they would both lose their bets?

“Wait!” she shouted, moving a hand forward as if trying to stop the white kwami, but the creature’s eyes started gleaming and its body pulsating. The darkness of the room was lit up with a spark of pure energy and Marinette had to close her eyes shut because the brightness was nearly hurting her pupils. She felt as if pulled up by a strong wind and then pulled back down again, almost feeling like falling.

Author's Note

Hi there!

This is my effort for the March 2021 Writer-artist collab. It's an idea I had for a while, and when the artist I was paired with showed some interest on it, I thought 'why not', so here it is! Hope you'll like it :)

In the next chapter, we start getting into the loops. I can only tell you that it will be quite an experience, for both of them. Chaoss wasn't kidding!

I hope you will leave me a comment. What did you think about Chaoss? Chapter 2 isn't written yet, so I don't know when I will update, but you know the drill. I tend to prioritise the stories that receive more feedback, because I feel I let down less people ^^. So if you want to know what happens next and what will they find in the loop... subscribe, comment, put the story in your favourite, leave a kudos... not only it cheers me up, but it also makes me more eager to dedicate my nights to write rather than to other menial activities (like sleeping for example!)

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

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