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cal-a-bungaa · 2 years ago

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The Realm

The Realm Part 7 - Prince!Jake Kiszka

Synopsis: In the heat of danger, love will always conquer

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death and war, sexual acts and language, descriptions of child birth, swearing and violence. Fluff.

Enjoy (please don't throw things at me) and thank you to the amazing @capturethechaos for reading it over and to @writingcold for your wonderful commentary and help planning this series!!

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Jake POV

Jake had stepped foot in this room only once before, the night he agreed to become a married man. It was different from Josh’s- his war room. The walls here were decorated in different weapons that had been favored by the late king, no intricately stitched curtains hanging from the windows. It was bleak, cold and the sense of dread flooded his senses for what’s to come. He could tell how uncomfortable she was being in here; the way she stiffened after seeing the collected layer of dust across the table, dragging the tips of her fingers through it. Whether she liked it or not, she’d best get used to it- they’ll both be in here quite a lot until the enemy is defeated.

The sunsets rose hues beamed through the arched windows, dusting over her soft skin. Even as Jake stares at her in awe, he cannot help but think of the knife that dangles above her head in the shape of a crown. He even thinks of his brother- how Josh loved the color pink, always opting to sniff the coral tinted roses in his private garden. He’d always sneak them into Jake’s chambers though he was adamant of his distaste towards the sweet scented flowers. Now Jake looks back and wishes that he could rewind and have those damn flowers on his nightstand to fall asleep next to. Or even some to give to the woman before him. The rose bushes his brother hid from the groundskeeper have probably all wilted away by now, no longer having the proper care that they need.

She was silent by the window, taking in the rolling hills and tall mountains in the distance. The sky's color enhanced the lighter streaks in her hair and the color of her lips. He needed to keep her safe like he wished to with Josh, but now he is sure he will even if it costs him his own life. He would rather a sword pierce his heart than have it shatter all over again. Jake would rather cough up his own blood than to have his hands covered in others that he loves. He leans his hip into the hardwood, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re scared.” Jake says, taking in her figure. Her stiff shoulders, and the way her teeth chew into her bottom lip are dead giveaways of her fear.

He sees the way she immediately tries to fix her posture. “I am not.” Jake rolls his eyes.

Jake doesn’t say anything else, opting to approach her from behind. He sees her reflection in the glass, eyes so unsure of what’s to come and what will happen to either of them. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t want him to die, but she’s not ready to die herself. His fingertips run down the expanse of her arm, sending shivers down her spine at the contact.

“I am a feather disguised as steel…” Jake furrows his brows, confused on why she switched so suddenly. The queen before him has curled back in on herself to be the quiet princess she once was.

Jake takes hold of her wrist, spinning her towards him. She refuses to meet his eyes, succumbing to the thought that she is weak. He reaches out to slowly lift her chin. “You are steel, not even I can break through,” She shakes her head in disagreement, “Don’t do that. Do not doubt yourself. You are strong if you will yourself to be.”

She shakes his grip off, fuming at his words. “I am sick to death of hearing how strong I am.” The queen before him was fuming and he did not know how to calm her. He believed her to be strong regardless of what he had said in their heated moments. She was nothing close to being a feather.

If she wished to be a feather then so be it- Jake would take it upon himself to be the steel, but she can be her own if she only believed it so. He couldn’t do anything besides nod and remain silent, not wanting to push the topic. She turns back towards the window, promptly ignoring his remaining presence. The rose sky had darked to a purple, letting the stars shine through and the only light to illuminate the room being the flickering flames of melting candles. He wanted to assure her that she had that strength and bravery hidden within herself, she showed that side to him hours ago. Circling him with his own sword was strength in itself, it was a wonder to him how she could believe such a thing. Jake had placed both palms on the smooth wooden surface of the war table, letting his eyes fall over the map laid out. In the east corner of the map, a strange marking presented itself. Looking closer at it, the name of the landmark had been scratched out with ink. Possibly a fallen kingdom, abandoned fort or village, Jake is not sure. The map that Josh had laid out for the attack on Weria showed no such thing.

A knock rang through the ever so silent room, her council seconds later piling into the dreary room. It felt as if he was reliving the past. Except for the fact that his brother was not beside him and won’t be again. She’d stepped forward, taking her spot next to Jake. All eyes rested upon her with questions, doubt, and impatience. It angered the king by just their stares, if anyone dared speak a belittling word towards her, they’d be dead on the cold floor instantly.

She took another step forward, placing her palms on the table as well. “As you all have heard, there is a threat out there that wishes death upon the king and I,” She speaks unwavering. Her pinky stretches out, ever so lightly brushing against his own. “We must put an end to this newfound enemy before more damage to the realm can be done.”

Jake takes it upon himself to shift his hand closer to hers, pinkies now linked together for everyone to see. He coughs before speaking up, “I will be on the frontlines as that is what I know, I will fight to keep us safe.” he glances over to his queen, seeing a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

“Your majesties, if I may,” the councilman pauses, “how are we to know where this enemy lies? If we do not know, we cannot plan.”

Jake can tell a condescending tone as if he could see it, he’d grown up around it being a spare but for them to talk to her as such was not something he’d tolerate. “Send units out to scour the woods, search every abandoned building. We could even send parties to this area.” Jake points to the scribbled out lettering.

All eyes slightly widen at his suggestion. Panic and tension in the room quickly rises when she peels her hand from his. Jake quirks an eyebrow at her, confused on everything that is currently happening.

“Sir Jake, with all respect, we do not enter that area. It is a place of death and ruin.”

Her touch reappears on the small of his back. He can finally feel her touch through the thin linen drawstring shirt he changed to. Jake wants to return subtle touches, but is too far invested in why that particular area makes everyone spiral into a panic.

“And with all respect, that is our best option. There must be a reason as to why and how the enemy travels so silently to Weria.” Jake snaps back with a condescending tone of his own. If the councilman could without having his head removed or being thrown in the dungeons, he'd probably laugh at a spare and a queen directing them through a war.

For a moment Jake thinks he has defeated the council in their fight to reject that idea. “You do not know the land like we do, do not speak as if you do.”

Jake feels her nails sink into the skin of his back, a sign of her irritation. He has to swallow a groan at the pain, but also the shooting ropes of pleasure that travel to his cock.

“Councilman, you will not speak to your king as such. Mind your mouth.” your king. That has Jake acting out of reflex, reaching around her to place his hand on the small of back, dipping his hand a little too low in a room full of people.

Looking over at her, he finds her already searching for his eyes. There’s a daring look swirling within them, hypnotizing Jake into pushing it further. At her silent command, his hand slides down the curve of her ass, gripping it tightly- surely enough to leave little bruises. She was his queen even if in this lifetime they were not to be wed. He wanted to feel more of her- more of her touch, for her to feel more of his and to hear the angelic sounds she’d let out beneath him.

The councilmen all continued on about how that area was off limits and no one should dare enter unless they had a death wish. Jake could see the annoyance on her face, matching his own. “We will send men there and that is final. You best trust your king's word, next time will not be excused.” She threatens.

With a wave of her hand, they bow their heads and leave. Not a single one of them agreed, but didn’t argue after their queen spoke against them. Jake squeezes the flesh of her ass once more before removing his hand from her all together. He takes steps away from her, examining her as she stands agitated before him because of this war and because he neglects her of what she wants.

She stares him down, no longer wanting to be the first to make such a daring move. She wanted him to show her how he needed her to want him. But Jake wasn’t going to give it to her so easily.

“Let me show you to your chambers, my queen.” he shoots her a sly grin, lending out his hand for her to take.

The queen squints her eyes, huffing out a breath. “I think I’ll stay here awhile, thank you.” Jake’s grin grows hearing how disheartened she is at what she takes is his rejection of her.

“Would you rather me ravish you here?” He cocks his head at her.

A blush spread across her cheeks. Even after clearing her throat, her voice still cracks, “Perhaps I would.”

Jake steps towards her, not yet wanting to be too close to her as he’d give in to his desires. He wanted to make it last- wanted to look at her- to see all of those gorgeous expressions she’ll make when he does touch her.

“Then tell me what you’d like for me to do.”

She wets her lips, “Love me.”

Jake couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. In quick strides he wrapped himself around her, letting his heart lead him to the one thing it now called home. His hands encased her cheeks, pushing his lips to hers. Her hands tangle themselves in the fabric of his loose shirt that hides little to the imagination. Jake’s tongue swipes against her bottom lip, wanting to taste more of her. She quickly responds, taking a taste for herself too. Both of them devour each other, taking in everything the other has to give- an outpour of their love.

“Jake… please.” she whispers against his lips, slick with her saliva.

He parts from her, seeing the desperation and need in her eyes. He travels on hand from her face to rest on her waist. “You are a queen, do not beg, my love.”

She takes that in, letting it sink in her mind that she has the power over him body and soul. She fully parts from him, lifting herself onto the surface of the table. Jake watches her in awe, seeing how disheveled she is by just sharing a kiss. She no longer simply wants him, she needs him. His queen teases him, spreading her legs and ever so slowly lifting the hem of her dress to reveal her perfect legs. A few bruises paint her skin, he is sure from the night she spoke about when the cut on her neck was made.

Jake wishes she would hurry and reveal herself to him, but he appreciates getting to view every little part there is to her. Once she pulls the dress to her thighs, the king sinks to his knees- a forbidden act upon royals. No man or woman that dons a crown may sink to their knees before anyone- not even another royal. Jake would break that absurd law as many times as she would let him.

His palms smooth over the expanse of her legs, from her calves to her plush thighs. Their final destination are her knees, slightly pushing them apart for him to fit between them. Jake stares into her lustful eyes, giving the inside of her knee a kiss, letting his tongue peak out to wet her skin. He can see the rise and fall of her chest- the way she is trying to not fall apart at the simplest of things.

Jake rests his head on her thigh, letting himself appreciate the woman that towered over him. “If only you could see what I see- you are so beautiful.”

“I’m quite happy with my view.” She flashes him that smile that he hasn’t seen in far too long. A genuine smile, one that radiates light like his brothers.

The king lets himself smile back at her, rising back to his feet. Jake feels his desires running wild, needing to calm them down by backing away from what’s tempting him most. Meeting at eye level again, he leans his forehead into hers. His breathing is uneven as is hers. Jake’s eyes close and lifts his head to press a feathery light kiss to the crown of her head.

“I will not take what is yours from you just yet.”

With that, Jake separates himself from her completely. He watches the way she becomes aware of what he’s said and the shyness he knew hadn’t left her return. She awkwardly shuffles around, fixing herself to look presentable. Dare he say it was quite adorable watching her frantically fix her dress and hair to make it look like treasonous acts hadn’t just taken place in here. New wrinkles had formed in the fabric of her gown and strands of her hair poked out in odd directions.

“In time, love. I simply wish to give you all of my love before my cock.” The queen's eyes widened in horror at his vulgarity. Her face turned beet red in embarrassment. Jake chuckled.

“Jacob! You mustn't speak like that!” She whisper-yells at him as if anyone was truly listening in on their conversation.

He releases a belly laugh at her reaction, she truly was so pure. It was as if she wasn’t just hiking up her skirts to reveal herself to him, begging for him to ravish her right on that table. There was still so much to learn about her and he was excited to take this ride with her.

Jake coughs, letting himself calm down from his fit of laughter. “Let me take you to your chambers.”

She doesn’t respond, still embarrassed. The beautiful girl turns her back and makes her way to the doors that lead to the darkened hallway lined with guards.

_____

You wanted him to take what was yours. The real battle was coming soon and if Jake was to be on the front lines, who knew if he’d make it back to you. You’re scared that you will live the rest of your life without knowing him. You’re more than aware that there is much to make up for before that point, but the way you were testing each other in the war room had you worked up in a way you’d never felt before meeting Jake.

His footsteps echoed your own, but you were far too sheepish to look back at him. You wanted his hand in yours, but without having to ask him brought on a new problem. Jake was watching you, you could feel his eyes burning holes through your dress as you walked. His stare reignited that fire within your core without having to turn back. Just his presence alone was a safety net, one you could fall into and be swallowed whole. You were sure Jake could see the way you clench your fists, bunching up the ruined fabric of your dress. His sole being is enough to have your knees shaking and heart drumming against your chest- he doesn’t have to say a word or lay a single finger upon your skin.

Guards follow five steps behind Jake, ensuring your safety and his. The amount of guards with you at all times has now been upped by the demand of the king himself, putting his men to work at protecting you. It is not long before the door of your chambers comes into your line of sight. What lurked behind the doors still had you petrified- unable to step one foot in without wanting to search every crevice of the room. Rats lay low, they stay hidden away from the naked eye. You did not want them to reappear and this time have a fatal victory.

You hesitate to grab the handle to open the doors, not wanting to see what waits for you inside. Slowly you turn your head back to look at Jake who seems more or less unbothered, unaware of your uneasiness. But his actions tell you otherwise, his simple nod for you to open the doors is reassuring. You knew with him around, nothing would harm you.

The dark room was coated with a sweet scent of roses, the one you found so comforting once upon a time. The moon's light shines ever so brightly through the windows. Your box of memories remains open on the floor, its contents scattered around it. If Jake were to see you’ve kept such ridiculous items, he’d laugh and taunt you for ages. But in the moment you could care less, you needed him with you more than ever.

You shook your head back at him, speaking to him in silence that you could not enter. “Please stay for the night.” you whisper.

The corners of his lips turn upwards. “And what would the councilmen think of you inviting me into your chambers?” Jake jests. You knew it was him poking fun, trying to lighten your heavy heart but you simply needed him to watch over you in the night.

“Jake, I’m not strong- I’m afraid.”

His warmth washes over you, allowing some of your unease to dissipate. “I will not let you be harmed,” His tone has softened greatly. Jake’s hand finds its place on the small of your back, gently ushering you into the room. “I will stay.”

You knew of the rumors that would spread from this, but that is beyond you. As long as you could safely sleep beside the one you wanted most, you’d deal with anything thrown at the two of you. Jake guides you into the darkened room, making haste to shut the door behind him and lighting the candles on your bedside table.

There’s be many times in the past that you have shared a bed with Jake, but tonight felt different. The two of you have been through so much that it almost felt wrong at this time to even consider reliving these moments. You watched him pace around the room, finding the different sources of light so the dark could not cause any more damage to your mind. It felt so domestic to have him this way. It felt too real- too soon and too calm.

As Jake goes to light the last candle on its stand, he looks back over his shoulder at you. “You’ll be uncomfortable sleeping in that.” He looks you up and down.

For the umpteenth time that night a blush rises to your cheeks. He was right of course, but to change before him when he has never seen your body was another challenge that you thought you were ready to face. Bravery was not something you held within you, it was a mere act for people to not look down upon your ruling. Jake didn’t bother turning back to the melted candle, keeping his focus on you.

“Look away then.” and he does as you wish.

You reach behind you to untie the corset that secured the dress to your body. Unable to reach the ribbon that lies between your shoulder blades. You huff in annoyance, succumbing to the fact that you will need help to be released from the imprisonment you forced yourself into.

“Help, please…” you say in a hushed tone.

It’s as if he were waiting for you to ask for his assistance, whipping around to grab the ribbon and pull it from its knot slowly. His fingertips brush against the skin of your back with each loosening of each crossover. What felt like forever was just a few seconds, he quickly but smoothly made work of the corset. When it was fully undone, the sleeves of your dress dropped, revealing your bare shoulders to him and the crisp night air.

Before leaving you to strip bare and change, Jake plants a wet kiss on each of your shoulders. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest at his affections. Though he was in your room with you was familiar, there was a shift in the air- something more heartfelt and heavy. Once you feel his gaze leave you, you drop your dress to pool at your feet on the bear skin rug. You step out of the melted fabric and out of the painful heels you donned all day. Your nightgown rested on the back of your desk chair. You slipped it over quickly, afraid of what would happen if Jake were to see you in such a scandalous state- not that he hadn’t earlier, but now would be the time something more was going to happen if it were.

The small mirror on your desk showed your reflection in it, the way you wore such a remarkable staple on your head while being in a place that you could not hold onto it too tightly without cutting through your palms. You watch it be removed from your body to rest on the grainy old wood, not the best place for it to go but it wasn’t very precious to you. You see the way your styled locks roll down to their rightful place. Being like this made you feel normaal, like a kingdom didn’t lay its lives upon you. You’d wondered if Jake felt the same being in the same position or if it had truly sunk in for him yet.

“Quit judging yourself, you’re beautiful,” Jake’s voice startles you, having forgotten he was even in the same room. “Come to bed.”

What you would give to hear those words for the remainder of your days was above you. He made it sound like heaven to lay beside him every night and fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing. On a normal night you’d let the handmaids brush through your hair and scrub you down, but tonight you couldn’t be bothered to look perfect. You wanted him to see you and only you. The real you.

The way he laid so contently in your bed gave you hope in how this could be your view for eternity. His arms were crossed behind his head, one leg propped up on the other. He looked gorgeous. It’s one of the few times you’ve seen him fully relaxed. His gaze follows you as you approach the opposite side of the bed. You go to lift the layers of blankets only to be beaten to it, Jake peels them back for you. Slithering into bed, he shifts to his side, hand holding his head up and the other reaching to smooth your wild hair.

No other words are said that night, you can see his lips moving but cannot make out what he’s saying. Your eyes grow heavy and eventually everything around you fades to black.

_____

You stand in the long hallway of your home, the one that leads to your mother and fathers chambers. Loud painful cries erupt from behind the closed doors. You can see the uneasiness in the guards standing watch and in the castle staff that are gathered outside the room. In the distance, you can recognise the voices from inside the room- you mother and your father, speaking to one another. One was panicked and the other calming and reassuring. Groans of pain come from one of them.

In a state of panic you race towards the room, shoving those who block your path out of your way. You go to push the doors open only to find you fall right through them. On your hands and knees, you look up to see a terrifying scene. Your mother laid on the grand bed, face as a white as a ghost in a pool of blood with sweat shining on her forehead. Your father held one of her hands in both of his to his mouth, his eyes told you that he was scared.

Doctors and nurses stood at the foot of the bed between your mothers legs, giving her signs of when she should start again. To your horror, your mothers screams come again but louder now that you have a front row seat to this gruesome scene. Her body lifts from the pile of pillows that held her weight, squeezing the life from your fathers hand.

Eventually it all went silent for a moment. A moment of fear washed over all of their faces. The doctor held something you could not see. Your mother had started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks as she buried her face in your fathers chest. Even his eyes turned red, fearing the worst. But then a shrill cry filled the silent room.

“It’s a boy your majesties!”

A commotion happens and you see that eventually your mother takes hold of the babe, cradling him in her arms. She looked at him with such adoration. She used to look at you that same way.

“Well, hello there Prince Daniel.” The first born son of Weria and the first of his name.

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Taglist: @allieisacrybaby @writingcold @gardensgatedaisy @hayley1623 @gretasmokerising @josh-iamyour-mama @ageofsinners @capturethechaos @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @mysticaldonutglitter @lvnterninthenight

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winterpinetrees · 23 days ago

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Don't Get Brainwashed (The Gap Years 2x6)

September 21st

Boulder, CO

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This is the chapter where Brian realizes that hooking up with an elven princess who specializes in mind control has gotten him mind controlled, and where he gets out of it. Warnings for their relationship being dubiously consensual at best and for Brian blaming himself. Zerada is kicked from the party, though she seems all too casual about it.

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He dreams he is a knight in shining armor. The handle of his sword is wrapped in the same tape as his baseball bat, but this is not a lucid dream. Brian believes it when he sprints across the muddy field in silver boots and squints up into the blinding sky. His unconscious mind knows there is a princess he must save. He locks blades with another elf. Sparks fly and his arms shudder. Wrestling is intimate, surfing and biking are solitary, but he’s always loved baseball best. Rushing in from the dugout when the hitter wins the game to carry him on their shoulders. The bus back from a tournament, the moon an orange eye above them. Brian throws another boy to the ground and wakes up in bed. Funny. Zerada is still asleep next to him, but Brian can’t imagine her as a damsel in a tower. Marin, maybe, and he’s already seen Jezero in prison, but Zerada wouldn’t need a daring rescue. She probably wouldn’t want it, anyway.

It’s dark in the room. His mind conjures up the milky way above Project Excalibur during their first attack, when the galaxy shone overhead but its light didn’t reach the ground. There are no stars here, only a street light bleeding under the curtains and a faint crack under the door. It’s just past five in the morning. He steps out of bed and places one hand against the wall to steady himself. He’s always been worried when Clay said he blacked out after standing up too fast, but this is different. The little color he can see is wrong. Zera’s hair should have highlights of red, but it’s become washed out. His own skin is pallid as well. Brian rubs his eyes and walks to the bathroom expecting the strange feeling to pass. It’s probably like the green in his vision when he comes back inside after practice and his eyes have to adjust. He fumbles for the lightswitch on the bathroom wall. It flickers to life, and the light is warm. The linoleum is more golden than tan, as is the sink. He glances at the mirror and sees featureless amber in place of his eyes.

Brian turns to leave and his body does not respond. Fake stone bites into his palms. His heart is racing like he’s halfway down a mountain trail and the front wheel of his bike just caught on a rock. Gravity is a universal law in both worlds. There’s nothing he can do to keep from falling. Brian doesn’t quite look at his reflection, but he doesn’t leave the bathroom either. He stands on the cold tile and stares. He’s standing here for a reason, what was it? He washes his hands. He thinks of Zerada backlit by starlight, her eyes flashing with a spell. It's too early. He should go back to sleep. His eyes glow orange and shallow.

Clay sneers in his memory. I haven’t seen an ounce of restraint from you since Montana, at least.

Brian has always liked his eyes. They’re sky blue like his mother’s. His father and brothers have more of a cold steely gray. Apparently that’s better for politics. Blue is striking in it’s own way, at least when someone isn’t joking that he looks like a husky. He holds up a hand and sees light like a sunset reflected on it. It’s beautiful, enthralling even, but not his.

Don’t get brainwashed.

He can’t quite bring himself to scream. He should go back to sleep. He walks with one hand against the wall. His eyes haven’t adjusted back to the darkness. How could they while creating their own light.

“Zera?” The nobility can sleep anywhere, but they’re light sleepers too. She tends to wake up just after midnight, or whenever a motorcycle roars past their window. She sits up slowly and glances at the glow under the curtains. Then she turns to face him and stares into the orange eyes she made.

Zera stretches her arms like a cat or a fox, and Brian can see the team logo of the shirt he gave her.

“Well. I’ve gotten complacent”. Her eyes flash and he reels backwards like a door has slammed shut in his face. The highlights in her hair return to their proper hue.

This is Zerada Adust, noblewoman of Genus Adust. He remembers her bragging about having friends in every criminal underworld, about slitting a man’s throat in an alley in Macau for daring to follow her. That first night in Vegas, he’d turned to his best friends and said he was going to make an awful decision. Well, at least they won’t be surprised. He did not flinch far. Brian steps forward and turns on the lamp beside the bed. She looks calm, maybe a little disappointed, but her ears are upright like she’s waiting for something. Now he really puts distance between them. The frame of a painting digs into his shoulders and he’s too paralysed to turn.

Zerada tilts her head to one side. That's his shirt “You can go. I won’t stop you”.

“Why? What is this?”. His phone is on the nightstand, next to the lamp. He should have grabbed it!

She slowly closes her eyes, not that she can’t hear his frantic breathing. “Subtle charms are unnoticeable, but once the…” she gives him a respectful nod. “subject realizes something is wrong, the eyes begin to glow. You must have had a particularly self-aware dream. Or just had second thoughts. Well, more than second thoughts by this point”.

They met on the night of the solstice, and now it's the equinox. They’ve been a thing since a few days after. How many times have Clay and Sierra mocked him for this? He takes a step forward, watching for any tell that a strike is coming, then lunges, unplugs his phone, and retreats. It’s not a wrestling move set. This isn’t anything he knows. Zerada turns smoothly to follow his leap. She has perfect economy of movement, like someone who’s been training for years and years.

Wait.

“How long have you…” The words feel too light in his mouth. Brainwashed is a word from movies, not real life. He swipes to Clay’s contact in his phone.

“I cast something to protect your mind when you were acting as bait before we attacked Excalibur, but that hardly counts. I cast it again when you infiltrated the prison. It was almost completely undetectable. Some of my best work, if you can appreciate it. Then you were unstable when we lost Sierra”. She pauses before continuing, and her eyes are wide like she’s surprised by her own words. “I gave you a push to stay”.

“With you”.

“You’ve always been the one most invested in this”. She lifts a hand to her chest and gestures around the motel room. Invested in her? In this quest? In saving the world? “If you turned away, Sierra and Clay would follow. You’re very loyal to each other”.

She dodges the question she knows he means. “We got you your brother back, and everyone else. Does it matter if we leave?”

“I’m just-”

“We’re only human. You don’t need us. God, maybe you do need us, but you don’t need us here freely”.

“I only know the human world for its charms, Brian. You live here. It’s nice to have a second opinion”.

Brian stays frozen in place against the wall. Eventually, Zerada stands as well.

“I’ll go first, if you’re just going to stand there like a cornered thing. I’ll talk to Mari and be out of your hair by daybreak”.

All this time they’ve been fighting for allies, and Zerada is unafraid to leave. Why shouldn’t she be? Since the moment they first saw her killing time in Las Vegas, Zerada’s done nothing but charm, kill, and save their asses. Brian’s heart seizes with dread. Even with the Mercurali chasing so many runaways, they are still going to be in danger. Is Marin enough to shield them all, and keep the car and guns charged, and keep the illusions up? What if he gets hurt again? Though, Marin isn’t the only Sondaica heir anymore…

Brian is a third son. He’s fought for attention before. “Wait. We- we can just pretend this never happened. You are so much better at this rebellion thing than Marin. He can’t do this alone”.

“Brian, please, have some honor. We’ve been working in parallel since July. I wouldn’t abandon him just because you got clever. He has you three, anyway”. She gestures to the door like a queen dismissing an advisor. Brian blinks for a moment, grabs his shower shoes and the Giants sweatshirt hanging by the door, and stumbles out.

They all have their ringtones on in case of emergencies, and Brian wonders if this counts. He’s fine now, and Zerada’s leaving. This is not one of the thousand terrible realities he’s imagined since the first time he realized mind-control was in play, not really at least. He’s fine. Besides, she said he hadn’t really been charmed until after the prison break, which means his initial decision to hook up while trying to save the world was just teenage stupidity. If she wasn’t lying. If anything could have possibly been considered safe or informed when his life had switched genres two weeks before. He stands in front of Clay’s door, trying to project confidence despite his crocs, and makes a phone call. It rings for ten seconds before he picks up.

“I’m in the hallway outside”.

“Nice job waking me up”. The phone clicks off and he waits by the door.

Brian imagines Clay looking at him through the peephole. He must be checking for signs of magic, and probably holding that damn rifle in case he’s been charmed. The thought stutters to a halt. He has been.

Clay swings the door open. “What’s going on? Does Zerada snore?” He looks irritated, but something must flicker across Brian’s face when he says the name. “Finally regretting your choices?”

“What the hell, man”.

“That was a stress reflex. I am so sorry”. Clay pulls him into the room and deadbolts the door. The rifle rests against a drawer within arm’s reach. “Is she asleep? Are you hurt? You should sit”.

“No. She’s talking with Marin, I think. The Adusts are leaving again”.

Clay mutters and shakes Sierra awake. She bolts up, clearly expecting an attack. Instead, she sees Brian shell shocked at the desk and Clay already across the room digging around the minifridge. There’s a pen with a logo by the lamp. Brian grabs it like it will disappear if he blinks, and spins it in his hands. “I woke up a few minutes ago- and- and my eyes were glowing, so I guess I’d been charmed? She saw that and just gave up. Kicked me out and said she was leaving too like that would fix things? It seemed like she’d been planning it for a while”.

They are silent for what feels like whole minutes. Then, Sierra starts to dig for information. “How long has she been doing this?”

“Since you were captured, apparently? She was worried that I’d abandon the team without you but I mean I have no clue if she’s lying”.

“She thought you’d leave? Mr ‘Let’s go on an adventure?’” She drops her voice to a whisper, barely more than mouthing the words. “We’d have betrayed them twice without you”.

“She said she gave me a push to stay”.

Clay leans against the wall with a clenched jaw. “To stay in her bed, maybe. I guess mind control explains your recent behavior”.

“I made my decisions, okay? I can’t stand back and let the world end, and if we were going to die then I thought I might as well make the most of it. I don’t- I don’t think I was charmed at the start. She’s not into that, and hell, you know me. She wouldn’t need to. I’m always chasing things that are bad for me”. He closes his eyes. “You warned me so many times”.

She shrugs. “As a joke, really. This is still awful”.

Clay winces before he speaks. “We never really did. There’s a difference between disapproval and an actual intervention. We made fun of you, but who doesn’t. Besides, I spent two years in some sort of off-and-on thing with a boy I only saw while committing misdemeanors. I’m not exactly a role model".

Brian actually laughs at that, but it’s grim and strained. “Thanks for the compliment, Dirt. Like I’d have listened if you did”.

“Still, there’s no chance that you would’ve put her over us”.

“You can’t know that, Sierra”.

“I know you. You’re gonna rush a frat day one, but you are also the most hopeless romantic I've ever met. Wait, no, not romance. I mean that you’ve got a big heart and you need a team. Whatever charms, magical or otherwise, she had, you were never just going to give up or leave us behind”.

Clay meets his eyes. “You had a crush. You thought of her as a nineteen year old that was too hot to handle, not a conquering royal, and that was a mistake. The end. Drink your gatorade”.

He takes a shaky breath. “You picked a good color. The yellow ones are medicinal, you know”.

“Good to hear you back up to your casual nonsense”.

Brian doesn’t say anything else. Casual nonsense is what got him into this situation, and into his father’s university but not where he would have wanted to go, and into the trending tab. Better to never get back up. They only have a few more months anyway.

Sierra texts a message to their emissary, and he’s glad to not see what it says. Once they’ve all changed into proper clothes, she whispers something again into Clay’s ear. His eyes flicker back to Brian and he barely keeps back a laugh. If Brian was really Zerada’s pet, then his fur would bristle. They’re never going to let him live this down.

To Marin’s credit, he’s quite the negotiator. They stand in the pre-dawn cold (and it is already colder here, inland, in late September than it usually gets in deep winter back home) three humans facing two stunning elves in the parking lot with Marin half a step in between. It’s probably a survival skill for a spare prince. The nobility have strong personalities. He snaps his fingers to cloak the sound of their argument and even physically stands between the humans and Zerada once tensions inevitably begin to rise. But there’s not much to do. Zerada’s right. She and her sibling have been working in tandem with them for months. Ever since Jezero made their numbers too big to fit in the Audacity, which happens to be since Sierra was captured, and when Brian was definitely, without any doubt, even though it may have started before, under mind control.

This talk is a formality, like his father signing a figurehead order about something everyone’s already been doing since the nineties. He keeps his mouth shut. His anger burns hot, too hot for politics, but Clay is cold. By the time the sky begins to lighten in the east, his hand on his shoulder is the only thing holding Brian back from throwing a punch or collapsing in tears. An agreement is reached. It’s not meaningfully different than the interweaving way they had been traveling before, but he keeps glancing at Zerada as if she’s someone he can lean on instead of the problem. Then, Marin’s ears fold back. He doesn’t emote with them as much as the Adusts, but that means he’s serious. Well, that or fear. “I’d like to talk with my betrothed now. Privately”.

For the first time he’s seen, Clay, Sierra, and Jezero all share the same skeptical expression. They look to each other, and at him, and then Zerada shrugs. She says something in Lazarin, and with a final glance back at Brian, Marin responds in turn.

“Goddamnit!” Sierra throws her hands in the air. Her hair is loose and barely brushed. Of the three of them, Brian is the only one without that clear evidence for when something is out of shape. He always wears his hair like he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Let them”. Clay replies. His face cracks with pain or loss, but then he’s back to his stable baseline. “Remember what we’re trying to do”.

Be essential and don’t get brainwashed. Clay's final prayer before Sierra handed them guns and they all went charging off under the glacier. Then Zerada had touched a hand to his forehead and wished him victory with glowing amber eyes.

It’s been a long time since he’s lost that quickly.

……………

Sierra is actually wrong. Brian isn’t going to join a fraternity, because Princeton is too pretentious for those. They have “Eating Clubs” instead, which are like if frats merged with a country clubs, bought mansions, and built dining halls in them. He’ll be on the baseball team though.

Brian thinks of Zerada on their ride out to Project Excalibur at the start of the chapter because he was brainwashed then too. Check back to chapter 16 and you‘ll see that the magical spell keeping humans away from the base has no affect on him.

@lokiwaffles @reggie246 @wishndreamer

#by me #the gap years #my ocs #writing that *is*

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littleroaes · 1 year ago

Text

do you want somebody? (like I want somebody), l.jy

inspired by newjeans, ditto

Y/n watch the world through a grainy display. Interact and touch it without emotions attached. And as she goes through her coming of age as a third person, Juyeon, a new student, takes interest in her own corner of this vast Earth. The boy sees past her difficulties with the world he loves, as he decides to win her heart either way. Instead of words, he pass notes onto her locker, draws on chalkboards and read Opera Omnia in the strangest corners of the school. The feeling she can't quite grasp, she tries to convey it in an unconventional sort of way.

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) juyeon x fem!reader

GENRE ⏵ fluff, soft angst, high school!au, autumn setting, takes place in the 90s(90s!au ?), mutual pining, quoting juyeon; "isn't it true love if you can love just because of their existence?", strangers to pining to lovers, classmates to lovers, makoto shinkai and studio ghibli type of love <3, juyeon is sweet caring and every cell is made out of love!!!!

WARNINGS ⏵ none major, y/n has a panic attack but its not detailed, proofread twice but probably something i missed!

WORD COUNT ⏵ 15.6 k

It is finally here!! Despite only being a month(even less counting with my request), it feels like forever since I uploaded a fic. It has been recorded as the hottest summer since(idk how many years), so we'll have to pretend it's sweater weather.

PLAYLIST Spotify version

TAGGING @blue-rainydays (you rly dont have to read it if you dont feel like it

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

HE HOLDS THE BASKETBALL WITH GRAY SPOTS AND WORN OFF COLOR BETWEEN HIS PALMS.

The moment it lands in his hands, he looks up the boring white wall. Juyeon stands still even when the wind brushes past his hair and his classmates bicker over who won this round. Up in a single window on the fourth floor stands a girl. Her back is before the schoolyard and her own front is directed at the hidden classroom. Though, he sees how she does a slight turn around the room as if following something, and in her hands is a camcorder.

The guys quieten and look over at Juyeon with hands in their pockets. Once again, she holds the camcorder with two hands, slowly letting the lens pan the room. Juyeon listens as shoes scrape against the gravel covered concrete.

“Who is that?” Juyeon asks.

His friend glance at Juyeon’s eyes before following the invisible line to its final target. Then, he too sees the girl in the open window. The guys behind them have started to play again and are unaware of the contrast in atmosphere between the two halves of the concrete.

“Y/n? She’s in our class.” His friends push stones and gravel away to create a circle.

“I didn’t see her.” Juyeon frowns, still with the girl in the center of his rectangular vision.

“She’s shy,” He looks at Juyeon’s side, “I’ve never heard her talk. She’s often in the janitor’s room.”

Finally, Juyeon seems to let go of her figure centered in a window. He too has his hands in his pockets. All gravel has pushed up against the sides and formed some sort of mountain chain. He tilts his head as he looks at the guy's line in the gravel. His friend examines Juyeon's face, how the dark pupils seemingly concentrate at nothing and lips being the calmest entity on the yard.

“It’s confusing to talk to her, she doesn’t look you in the eye or do any sort of motions when you ask her something.” He lose interests in Juyeon’s profile, “I’ve just assumed she’s disinterested in others.”

The creation on the ground is done and Juyeon’s friend adverts from it. His eyes are back at Juyeon and then, the basketball game some meters away. A long shadow follows his friend. His back faces Juyeon and he looks behind him to ask;

“Are you playing too?”

Juyeon nods, still hands in their pockets. All those shadows work as a reflection of the real world and his friend's long mirror joins the other ones. They’re all captured between worn white lines. Juyeon turns one last time towards the window. Where it once was a person, is now only an empty spot without any sort of life. He takes his hands out from the khaki trousers and runs up to the white lined rectangle.

As days pass, he inspects how the green trees turn yellow at its edges. Juyeon sits on a bench between two trees and outlines the once fully bloomed flowers wither in its body before it settles to the ground. Mid September comes around, and when he takes his bicycle out with brushes and paper, he notices how those yellow edges on his paintings don't match the fully brown ones before him. It is now a sea of withered bodies under the once so colorful tree.

Juyeon, as one season dies and another comes to life, starts to settle his old body in this new world. Friends come around quickly and he has built a net of four other people. He takes the same road to and home from school, enamored by the change in scenery each day. Sometimes his group of friends take their bikes down to the center. It is an eccentric sort of sentiment, to have these two lives of his cross. How the square houses no more than two floors tightly knit together, contrasts to the nearly terrific thin, but tall towers decorate the skyline.

Even when Juyeon goes through life like this, he has taken interest in the girl at the corner window. She sits furthest in the classroom, surrounded by walls, ones he can’t and can see. Often she has that camcorder to her. Juyeon, despite all things in his new life, spends a lot of time, in-between life events, to observe Y/n in her camcorder. How she pierce through the lens to another world, like reality is somehow desaturated and drear. She smiles throughout short sequences every now and then. Like the pure scenery he sees from a third perspective, is just a background to a complex foreground subject that reaches out to her. Y/n takes a step backwards for everytime the subject moves out of focus.

During lectures and breaks outside or in the hallway, he sees her without the camcorder. She lets her notebook reach the outer corners of her vision. While that, her pen moves one row after the other down the page. Her figure in the hallways are near impossible to make out between the students, lockers and extended walls. Instead, Juyeon needs to drift out of conversations, scan the room and its hidden corners to find her up against it.

The sun is setting, but her hair falls before her eyes. Their classmate one row behind reaches out their hand in faith. Tell each of them words of affirmation and wonder if they want to go to the city center, but he notices how she quickly rushes out of the classroom before their classmate comes up to her.

When they eat lunch, he notices that she eats everything separately. She starts with soup, then side dishes and lastly the rice. When they get mandarin, she gently pulls from the high point and drags one petal down, then another. Y/n continuously opens it like a flower until it’s fully bloomed and the fruit is right in center.

In the last days of September when the downfall won’t stop, Juyeon is in the library. One hears how the rain plummets to the windows and the light gets blurred by the thick layers of rain clouds. He stands in between the maze of shelves and titles. With cautious steps followed each row to find the spine he needs. For their studies of literature, various texts and writing, he searches for a specific title about literature history. At the fourth row, slightly more to the left, Juyeon finds the right green spine and reaches for it.

As he pulls it towards him, he feels another force coming from the other side. Juyeon lets go of the spine and watches the empty room between book and shelf. In that small space, he finds another pair of eyes. They look at him before disappearing and only the navy blue of their skirt is to see. Despite only intertwining worlds for a second or two, Juyeon immediately recognizes those pairs of eyes.

He doesn’t say anything when he reaches for the spine again. Instead he pushes it further away from him until the shelf ends and the green book disappears from his sight. He hears how it plummets to the ground in the dead library. Then, he walks away. Juyeon sees himself in third person pulling on his strings to turn around when the shelf ends. But he takes each step with his head in just one single direction, which allows the girl on the other side with the green book in her hands to see his disappearance.

The class is all together in the P.E hall. Juyeon together with the other boys runs after the basketball. The hall goes a few meters underground, therefore the ceiling is of wuthering heights. Their shoes make these high pitch noises when they push off the floor to get to the basket. All together with the cheers from five guys when one throws the ball into the net, or groups of kids in corners along the walls that talk about taking the bike to the city.

Juyeon high fives his friend and gets a clap on the shoulder from another guy in white tracksuit. The ball slows in speed as it rolls further from the net. Juyeon sees how the boys slowly split into smaller groupings and finds their own part of the hall. In the corner furthest away from the door and close to the net, his new friends stand and wave at him. Juyeon smiles. Before he crosses the room, his head turns behind him. His leg that’s extended towards that corner has stopped and his posture falls. Up on a platform, one meter higher than the basket net, is Y/n with her camcorder again. She stands up on the platform like a pedestal. Somehow he waits for the hall lamps to go out and a sharp point to drain her in the limelight . Despite being the protagonist of this room, no one else seems to notice her presence.

Her hands guide the camcorder over the floor. Face covered by the camera as she holds the viewfinder to her left eye. Juyeon stares right into the lens when it passes him. By pure assumption, he thinks the camera will pass him like it does for every other student. His posture turns stale when it doesn’t. The camcorder focused on him, just like he is enamored by her center position in this vast space. Though Juyeon doesn’t look away, he seeks for life in that lens. Her hands finally fall down and he, without any larger ambitions, holds eye contact with her.

A spark in his heart and across the room. He feels the window break the sunlight and a sudden rainbow appears across the painted white lines. But this moment doesn’t last long. Like the spark in his heart that came washing down on him in a second, she turns her back and disappears out the door, out of view. The stage up on the wall is now empty.

The world painted by the author fades in and out of view as Juyeon reads. It’s raining during the break, he’s inside the school library again. He sits on the floor beside a chair. All clouds are tightly knitted together, therefore that no light can escape it. But even through that, the window over him cast a light in-form of the frame over the wooden floor. Juyeon listens to how voices and single sounds travel through the small space. In the other end of the library sits a call of girls conversing over life after school and dreams far away from the place they’re in now. When they laugh, it becomes the loudest sound in the library. Right after, a crack in the wood aligned after each other moves throughout every corner, just as the laugh fades.

He looks up from the novel that has become nothing more than lines of alphabetic shattered pieces. And the moment his eyes come to lay on the real world, a sort of notion near him from all sides, that can’t be described in this dimension. The high shelves create a sort of tunnel vision that leads straight to a table, furthest down the library. Everything around him seems to point at the same spot and he follows each line, until they all connect in a sort of flower. He sees, at the center of his vision, the girl from each preceding day. Once again, she holds her camera before her eyes, creating a sort of distance between them.

In a library where complete silence is regarded, everyone you don’t hold close to heart is two meters away. He finds himself longing to get closer. To discover what is behind that built up wall and what, through the lens of the world, she sees. The world he has come to adore and draw every detail of, is it like in her lens? Or an ever changing filter, to become imagined and upside down, flipped onto itself by creativity.

As he stares into the lens five meters away, he feels a presence on his shoulder. A warm sensation that spreads over his blazer and down to his hands on the book cover. Juyeon looks up to see his friends. They ask him to play a game in the other room. Without standing up or closing the book, he says yes and the group starts walking. Juyeon takes his eyes off their backs and turns his head back to the scene from before, where no one is anymore. The table and its chair is as neatly placed and dust free like it has never been used. All windows are closed and each wall isolates them from each side, but he nevertheless feels a cold breeze take him at that moment.

As the lecture has come to an end and school has come to its final minute. Juyeon sits back to back with the row of lockers. In his hands are a notebook with a stack of orange notes. He sees Y/n stand in the middle of the perfect rectangle that frames the outside world. As it is raining, she holds her unfolded umbrella, as the ceiling is still protecting her. People walk past her gray silhouette without as much of a glance to the left. It is almost like she is waiting when she stands there so calmly, he thinks.

Finally, she walks. Juyeon watches as her figure comes upon the asphalt and completely disappears over the curve. When she is gone and he is left to his own thoughts, he looks down at the stack of orange paper. Juyeon take his pen and writes a one word message with a smiley face, the last line kind of curved off in the wrong direction. To walk up and follow the endless row of lockers until he stops in front of the one Y/n just stood in front of. He reaches out to the metal and holds the glue side towards it, but stops when he thinks of the people passing by tomorrow. Juyeon senses she might feel uneasy by the sudden acknowledgement towards her existence. Instead he pushes the thin piece of paper between the space of the rectangular door and its frame.

The lower half of the wall is painted in a lively green color. Juyeon walks beside it and stares at the point where the colorless material meets the earthly line. Voices from kids his age fill the corridor before they fly out the open window. He greets two girls walking hand in hand on the opposite side of the room, then he turns left. ‘Classroom 72’ says the rectangle, it reaches out from the flat wall over the door opening.

Juyeon stands in the frame cornered by the dark wood. Out over the classroom with their usual organized patterns and dim windows stands a girl. She is certainly alive, but the room is still like a patch of nature without human civilization. To think about when this space is packed with kids, how one shouts words to another in the far corner, or yellow post-it notes that travel through each small hand until it lands in the bin by the teachers desk. He stares at it and finds a new way to look at the room thought to be familiar.

Y/n sees him in the opening, but turns to the chalkboard like he was never there. Another group of students pass classroom 72 to get to their own. She has a rectangular black eraser with a chalk smudged fabric at the bottom. With slow circular movements, she picks up the white chalk from yesterday’s lecture. He looks at her features clearly when the autumn sun directs towards their window and creates a sort of backdrop over her. Somehow, while her body stands before him, the owner of it seems to be away.

Juyeon leaves his books on the desk closest to the door, he then walks up to the chalkboard. To the left corner of the green rectangle lays another eraser which he picks up. Juyeon starts to smudge out the white letters and shortenings of yesterday’s schedule. The word lunch and ‘12:25’ that stands after it turns to a white spot on the green background, then a slightly darker green, lastly, it’s like it was never there. He looks over towards Y/n, more than a meter away from him. White chalk smudges out over the edges.

He notices how it’s her arm closest to him that holds the eraser. A very minor smile forms on his lips. It doesn’t make sense how the fact that she’s left handed sends the autumn air cast its leaves over his heart. The math formulas and words with three lines under take him closer to her side. Juyeon stands just a meter away, still smudges out the white chalk. Without even a side glance to her right, he picks up the chalk and starts to draw in between the spaces. Y/n takes notice how the boy beside her does the opposite of their assigned tasks. With smooth lines and faint sound of when he reaches a corner of his drawing. It is now a simple stick figure in the form of a robot with a happy face. Y/n looks at the drawing and then up at Juyeon who has now moved back to the far left corner of the board. The atmosphere hasn’t changed and his demeanor like no one is there, let her inspect his drawing and the guy two meters away.

Juyeon continuously circles at the upper corner of the board. Soon there is nothing left to clean on this side. He doesn’t hear anything from the right side of the room, though a warm, focused sensation on his right face. The green chalkboard stares back at him as he forces his eyes on that single spot at the center of his vision. Juyeon then perceives a faint scratch of chalk against the flat surface. A white blur comes from all directions towards that center spot. He listens attentively how the chalk moves vertical or diagonally, then when it leaves the surface, just to come back with a clean sound.

When no more scratches can be heard, Juyeon cautiously turns his head to the right. Y/n is now even further away, but on the neck of his robot sits a detailed, little bow. Not like the ones you see men wear on the red carpet, rather what you put around a present. It adds a sort of charm, personality to his happy robot.

Juyeon walks up to it again and starts to draw a bouquet in the robot's right hand. A person can probably barely make out what it is, it looks nearly like matches. He tries to curve the line in some sort of pattern to reflect a rose, but he tilts his head and scrunches his nose. At some point, the robot holds a bouquet of sticks with ambiguous round ends. Juyeon walks away again and starts to organize the bunt of papers on the teachers desk. Once again, he hears strokes of another chalk. Juyeon’s heart seems to be hit right by the sunlight that comes through the window.

But the classroom that has been so silent changes in a second when their classmates come through the door. Juyeon looks up from the paper stack and sees group after group come through the rectangle frame to take their seats. Girls hold each other hand in hand and the guys throw their textbook onto their desks. Juyeon also took notice how Y/n threw her chalk away and ran down to the far left corner before the cabinet. With her head one level above the desk surface, he stares at her.

Juyeon, before going to take his own seat, looks at the chalkboard. The spot where his robot has the bow and its flowers is like the scene from before . He wonders if she quickly erased her own drawing. But then, Juyeon walks closer to it and notices how the bouquet all of a sudden doesn’t seem ambiguous, rather very clear in its message. The stems of the flowers reach out and form detailed petals, and it all is wrapped neatly in a paper of sorts. Juyeon returns to his seat in the second row. With his head falling to rest at his palms, he smiles while silently admires the drawing.

It’s raining again. It has for the past two days. Somehow Juyeon finds himself staring at the ceiling above his bed. He has one hand over his chest and the other behind his head, and so he lays every morning and dawn. The figure of Y/n and her black umbrella in the pouring rain has played in his mind these past nights.

Juyeon focuses on the center of his palm where it meets his heart. There is nothing different in his heart today, it beats like it always has. Continuously source his body life. He rather has a change in mind. Something pulls and preys on his consciousness, he seeks understanding. The girl in her own world fascinates his mind. In a way, she is a bit like a dream.

A magical sort of moment comes into his life when she interchanges with it. Juyeon takes a breath as another wind crashes at the walls. There is magic in daily life too and how each person he passes possesses a desire and will of its own. But the girl turns the world he knows on its head, reinventing it.

He holds a note close to his heart. One that sat on his locker when he walked out from the last lesson. To see if the surroundings have anything to confess, but it was silent as always between the walls of the hallways. It is a note with a lot of space left to be used, her ‘hello’ is incredibly small. Beside it, there’s a small cluster of flowers. As he lays in bed, he tries to figure out what it means. It’s form and texture, will he be able to figure out its species? With the signs left for him, he searches through magazines about the world’s flowers.

At dawn in the autumn season, the two of them stand once again alone in the classroom. The sun uncover itself from the night sky and beams weakly at Earth. A small space between the door and the wall gives the world a chance to see the room. But even when so invited, the scratch of a chalk against the matte board is the only thing to saturate the school.

Juyeon has drawn a robot again. He outlined the reference from his memories, but the stomach is a bit longer than the previous and his legs are a bit shorter. But nonetheless, Y/n took a brief look, between the passing minutes to see what he did at the classroom front. Juyeon was drawing a tie on its thin neck in intensive habit. A chair pushed backwards and someone took heel to toe steps towards the spot he was standing in. All that seemed to produce some sort of dim filter over the drawing.

Now, in the single light at dawn piercing through the looking glass, they both stand with a meter gap. Y/n reaches out for a second chalk and start drawing a stick figure beside his own. As his robot has a school tie, her own figure has a bow around the much more precise neck and a skirt that flares out above the knees. Juyeon observe how she fill in each detail, smile as she doesn’t seem to bother his attentive eyes. When she backs away to see it without idealization, the two figures face each other while smiling. The scenery narrates a gift of acceptance. Juyeon focuses on the right arm of her drawing that doesn’t face down, rather waves to the one on the other side.

He turns to her profile again. Catch her side face existing in a calm, edging on emotionless. As she stands like that, he thinks to himself that Y/n parallels a red light in the ever changing traffic. To receive a white block at the center of his vision to tell her someone has received her call from the other side of the ocean. Juyeon takes up his chalk again and draws his robot, this time with a blazer. The robot's right arm is awkwardly placed horizontally from the body. As if it's to grab onto something.

With an anatomy not ideal, he hopes for her to read the words behind his drawing while falling back into place. A wave brings relief over his heart and he breathes when she leans forward, in the precise spot under the first two figures, to draw again. Her hair covers whatever she's drawing. Though, eventually, she too returns to the place from before. The two of them stare while their shoulders beg to brush against the other. The drawings that reach out one of their hands towards the other. Y/n has connected the small hand of her own character to Juyeon’s that abruptly ends in s sharp lift of the chalk. .

As their imaginative selves have taken the other’s hand, Juyeon senses how she slowly lets the camcorder fall from her face. And he wonders if she feels the same. A person without words to express, and their secrets that hides. He wonders if she’ll ever open up that part of herself. In contrast to the silent and motionless room, Y/n walks away. Her mind without a reach is focused on certain point, and while getting there, she passes Juyeon’s desk at the front. Y/n stops at the side of his desk and her vision deviates from that past point.

Juyeon observes when her body is permanent like winter. Eyes specified and motionless onto his desk. Her hair starts to fall before her view, but she doesn’t take any effort to push it back behind her ears. Rather Y/n secure the object to her vision, to never let it go. Juyeon walks closer to her, still there is a meter between them. But he clearly sees the object that has taken her attention. His clock, upside down on the desk closest to the chalkboard. Throughout the six hours of school, Juyeon usually takes it off twice, sometimes three if the basketball match turns vivid. He looks at the clock and then back to Y/n’s side profile.

By an interchangeable sort of manner, she goes between the two viewpoints. Turn and shake on this scene to comprehend what enchants her about the writs band at the gray tables mit. Juyeon looks at the clock again, and notice the number 284 engraved at the circle's zero. The three number digit is incredibly small, barely beyond 5 millimeters. As he stands there, the meter between them becomes two and Y/n before the board again. Juyeon adverts from his clock and looks up to where the morning sun has laid its wings. It spreads over the wall and the crown sort of ends where her shoulder overlaps. To remain in the spot he was in, he looks at how her shoulder twitches and finally she backs away.

As some sort of halo, three digit numbers stand above Juyeon and Y/n’s characters. Over his awkward robot stands 284, the number on his clock. Her own halo is the number 220. Additionally, beside her figure says a date in small font.

February 20th.

Juyeon dissects and tries to see behind the two numbers on the board, but in no way are they willing to reveal the far side of themselves. In an eccentric progression, the entire room directs towards that drawing like a bullseye. Or, aside from Y/n. She stands with her back against the board and faces him and the inanimate objects surrounding them, waiting for a notion. But a passing breeze flies by him, and in autumn when leaves hold themselves by a single thread to the stem, nothing seems to be picked up.

A classmate comes through the door, breaking that space they’ve created. The moment a second student takes out their chair. Juyeon sees how she picks up the eraser and their drawing fades from the board, away from existence.

Classes move with the sun over the open sky and Juyeon spends time in the library. His spot under the window is empty and the sun casts itself over it, like in limelight. But Juyeon takes a left turn and walks to the furthest corner of the library. At the bottom of a shelf, covered in dust, stands an entire row of wine red spines. The spines, each one 5 cm wide, represent an entire encyclopedia. The clock moves another centimeter and hits an even number, at the same moment, he takes the first book up and turns the page to the index. His attentive eyes move over the sentences. Each word has him bringing the page closer to him and after one paragraph, he is just down 3 centimeters.

Time seems to stop for him as he reads through each book, but nonetheless. At ten minutes until the next lecture, Juyeon is on book number eight and has found interest in an article covering one page. With a simple title, Amicable Numbers, he sits on the floor in criss-cross position, stops to move his eyes like it’s a sort of panorama.

Amicable numbers, or Friendly Numbers, are natural numbers that are related by the sum of their proper divisors. Each sum adds up to the opposite number. 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 20, 22, 44, 55 and 110 are 220 proper divisors, and add up to 284. The same progression happens for 284.

Juyeon slowly lets the heavy cover fall towards the other side. The book weighs heavy on his lap when he continues to sit on the floor. He stares at a dim spot between the titles and falls into wonder about the ‘between’ he has discovered. The 284 under his watch and the 220, February 20th? When falling back towards the floor, Juyeon thinks it may be her birthday. In either way, Y/n stared at the numbers like it was something of importance, that it represented something more in this universe without solution. Somehow she has drawn a final equal sign at the end of earth and finds herself breathing gently while looking at it. Juyeon sits there to understand it, but he can’t quite get a perspective on it.

Juyeon is indoors this break too. Like spaces between words, the doors work just like it to the green lines. The lamps down the narrow lane do not work, instead he lets the white- edging on blue light fade the walls. Each step comes back at him from all sides while he walks past a second door. Worn down by time and use of space. His ears have gotten used to the silence, therefore, he turns when the sound of footsteps doesn’t line up with his own. The entire lane without lights falls dead again as the two stop. Juyeon’s posture is alleviated when the green lines take his eyes to Y/n three meters away.

“It’s just you.” He smiles. Juyeon sees how her camcorder is fully opened and four of her fingers sit between the band. It has fallen to below her hip and is covered by the pleats of her skirt.

Despite the open space between the two of them, she smiles weakly and he receives it. Y/n looks to ground after that single interaction and begins feeling the worn out details on the surface of her camcorder.

He can’t read what goes through her mind as she stares there. Unable to overlap instances, but enough to see each other from the horizon. He thinks of the book from the library and her annotation on the chalkboard. A part of his heart betrays his mind to stand with his back towards the outside and fall into deeper fascination.

“Is the janitor’s closet here?”

Y/n deviates her eyes from the ground and back towards him. His face contrasts with the scene behind him, it can’t be captured by the digital. She walks towards him, and continues past his shoulder. Juyeon follows her figure and how she comes to a stop at another door one space before them. Y/n opens it and walks in. He stands there, in the same space, as if waiting for an invitation or a call. But he realizes there is none and even him, walks past the frame and into the room.

A place without AC and lockers half the students size, together with the yellow walls create a contrasting atmosphere to the corridor. He looks at the window gaping down at him. The white curtains block nearly nothing and he stares at the memories of cloudless days these walls tell. He breaks free from them and watches Y/n who sits at the sofa right under the window. The camcorder lens is directed at him like the protagonist of a movie and she moves over the room like it’s his set.

Juyeon smiles again and comes to think of the numbers. He wants to ask her about the book he took from the furthest shelf in the library. If his hypothesis of her mind is correct. But the space between them has seemed to shorten each yesterday and he thread the new line with slow steps. While he stands in the autumn light and room with too little air, he takes out his backpack and the library book. The page from before is tagged with a small purple note and he opens up the binder. Y/n sees reality through the display, and falls into wonder over his grainy silhouette. He takes a single breath and begins reading the mathematical complexions and editions like lyrics.

Y/n never takes down the lens or press stop, i instead his melody transcends time and space in this secluded corner of the world. He names the two numbers and their connection, Euler's rules for the bond and their place in the universe. Even when Juyeon comes to the end of Euler’s last sentence, she holds the display still and stares at it like something more will come out of it. Juyeon smiles again and folds the book so that it penetrates the atmosphere he just built.

He takes a seat one meter away, “Was I right?”

Y/n looks at how the book disappears behind the fabric of his bag. She too eventually nods and smiles.

“We’re amicable then.” His head falls back and his eyes are upon the ceiling, “I’ll not forget that.” Juyeon says much lower and closes his eyes.

When he lies there, one meter from her own existence, she finds it difficult to make out this venture. Juyeon has his eyes closed and both of his hands on the front of the book he just read, it all over his chest. She pulls the strings of her own back and holds her face in a sort of diagonal line. Her nose reaches for the even warmer air in the highest corners of the room. Reality edges on being a dream and when she looks at his fluttering eyelashes, she wants to memorize them like a formula.

With eyes closed, only ambiguous sounds paint the reality before him. He hears paper irregularly fold itself on an unsecured surface, a pen that nearly punctures the fragile surface and how the right side of the sofa begins tilting. Juyeon opens his eyes again and sees her figure a step closer than when he closed them. To look down between the empty spot beside him and her hand brushing against his blazer. Y/n’s view is rather limited, only on the spot around his pocket. She takes the orange post-it note, written 284 on it, and attaches it gently to the spot of his blazer. Y/n herself take distance from him again, look at the square paper and its bent corners. If the windows would fly open and a wind come crashing, the frail evidence of their connection vanishes.

The note bunt lies beside her left arm. Juyeon sees it, looks at the paper on his clothing and back at Y/n won’t bridge eyes and lean any forward. Without falling into the ocean of his thoughts and drowning in contemplation before breathing, he takes the note and starts writing himself. 220 he writes, over and over again. Each one, he plaster on opposite sides of her blazer. When Y/n looks at her shoulder, chest, stomach or arm, traces of him are splattered all over her existence. To see him again, beaming like the row of streetlights during night, she feels a warm sensation push out the autumn season.

Her hair falls before her face, powerless to read her emotions. But right after, she reaches for the pen and paper to write 284 again. She attaches it to the lower part of his blazer. Now Y/n sit on her knees and the white fabric of her blouse covers whatever scenery was before him. The clothes that have been confined in her presence and absorbed her scent is so close that he feels it working like perfume on him. Rose color taints his face and he refuses to look up.

At the top of the world, Y/n writes 1.618 on another note and places it on his shoulder. Now covered in five different notes with all unique numbers, she falls down to earth again, closer than ever to him. Andromeda and the Milky Way will once the day comes, in a million years collide and become a galactic spectacle, Juyeon feels his body want to lean forward and discover every part of the girl in front of him. But he forces himself to sit in the space he has always been in, to appreciate her diviness from afar and wait for the full moon to leave its sign.

Those clouds that are heavy with rain cover the lucent sun that shines on Earth. The weather that has fallen, follows the slight curve of the asphalt and connects into puddles. Juyeon and his friends adverts from their lockers with umbrellas, backpacks and light pushes from the other’s elbow. When he stands side by side with his friend and sees the downpour framed between the double doors. Juyeon looks down on his blazer and sees the patterns of square notes. He doesn’t stay in place, rather continues in those conversations while moving one note after the other higher up on his blazer.

They stand by the framed rain, at the edge of where the downpour starts. One after the other opens up their umbrellas. They form a sort of flower induced in fabric. How each petal sometimes touches the other. It moves forward like a lively creature, when one steps down the stairs and the other trains after. Juyeon stands last in the train and before his shoe overflows with water he hears a thud from behind. When he looks back, he sees Y/n who stands in the left corner of the hallway. She isn’t covered by the locker, but she presses onto it like she wishes it did. In front of her lies a book.

He hesitates at the edge of the school and stares at her. Above the book are her hands that have her fingers desperately scratch on her palms. Her head moves the left corner of her view frame. Those constant actions make it hard for her hair to stay in one place and they fall to cover her face. But by those short moments when one strand lands on the other side, he sees her bitten lips and worried eyes.

“Juyeon?”

To break apart from what’s behind him, he sees his friends in the rain half turned. Their eyes on his silhouette are cloudy like the weather, drained in confusion over what has draped over his mind. Another friend group walks past them, out in the pouring rain. Finally he looks back again to see Y/n in the same place as before and takes a step back into the school.

“It’s something important, I’ll catch you guys later!” He sort of waves his hand before he runs up to the lockers again. Even then his friends stay in that puddle for a bit until they turn their backs on school and continue up over the asphalt.

Other students he faces on the way back make room for him. He stops when in front of her figure. Conversations become clear and then fade before another one enters as they stand there. Juyeon eyes her attentively, shoulder pressing further into the locker and her head lowers all the more to the ground. When her blazer trashes and pushes, the notes from before hold onto the fabric. Juyeon sees it and presses it onto the blazer again, then takes his umbrella to the side. Right side of the hallway can only perceive a piece of their person when the umbrella embraces them.

Juyeon looks over her sunken body that still forcefully tries to press the world out of it. A small corner under a pair of stairs. He takes the arm of her blazer and draws it gently towards his own body. In that moment, Y/n looks through the hair that has fallen over her face. Juyeon doesn’t look at her, rather has his eyes on that spot under the stairs.

“Come.” He whispers and Y/n nods. With slow steps they push close to the lockers to let the other students pass. Juyeon fixates on the fact that Y/n is beside him and lockers and not the other way, or how the stairs are just a few meters further away. Though, when he feels a faint pull on his own blazer, Juyeon swears the rain stops for a moment and the clouds drift apart to shine a light on his heart. When finally under the staircase he sees the ocean of people drain out in the rain. There's some significant space between the ocean and the two of them, but he wonders if the constant conversations and endless shrill sounds of wet shoes and floor continues to suffocate her mind.

Y/n, who, like the crowd, slowly drains of whatever’s left as her heart falls into normal motion. Despite her eyelids feeling all heavier and body leans onto the wall for support, she sees his hands contract. She pays attention to how he first opens his hand, wide and welcoming, until they close again, a kind of insecure motion. Tired, she lifts her head to watch his side. Juyeon watches how the rain drenches and fights umbrellas before he takes a small step to her side and lifts his hand to Y/n’s. For the first time in his life, his body connects with Y/n’s and a warm feeling in this autumn weather spreads over him.

Y/n experience how the world contracts on itself and becomes this fixed point in the universe. The wind becomes non-existent and words are background music to whatever she lays her eyes on. She hears how the world becomes muted when a warm sensation comes over her ears. By the calmness created in this corner of the school, she looks to the side again and sees Juyeon still face to face with the world outside.

The two of them stand like that while the school empties out the last students. Juyeon looks down at Y/n everytime an autumn breeze comes through the door and Y/n, when she senses he is somewhere else. The muted world confine her like a mother’s hug and she lets herself drown it. But despite the safeness and organized thoughts, everytime Y/n looks up at him she has this sensation that pushes her chest. It somehow penetrates her skin and bone, floods out in her blood and pulls her heart. Y/n looks at him and wonders if it is a good or a bad feeling.

When the hallway, abandoned and drained of life, Juyeon loosens his hands gently. He says quietly;

“It’s safe to go.”

He looks down at the place where her hands hold the fabric of his blazer. Somehow, she seems to struggle a bit. Juyeon notices how she opens her mouth, but closes it again and takes a breath.

“Can we go together?” Her words are barely over a whisper but it somehow took his breath away.

“Yes.” He answers just as quietly and smiles before they start to walk out. Each step they take colors by the rain covered floor, and they both continue the pattern. Juyeon feels how she lets go of his jacket and bends to her right to put away her book. At the edge before the rain, he once again opens the umbrella and holds it over their heads. Juyeon knows she won’t go first, so without any sort of restraint he takes a step out in the rain.

The rain that plummets towards the umbrella creates a sound similar to a second hand on a clock, soothes their minds. He stares at the cracks in the road and muted trees, streetlights that aren't on, tight alleyways between the low houses. When they’ve walked for some time, Juyeon falls into a world of his own. He didn’t talk so as not to force her to interact with him, but now nature has genuinely enchanted him to grow without words.

A hazy filter that covers his square vision fades from him when he feels a push on his umbrella. Juyeon looks to his left where Y/n gently tugs at the handle over his hand. Now none of the rain reaches his shoulder, but with hesitation, he moves it closer to her again. Y/n, again takes the handle and refuses to let go of it. A faded sort of confusion has become a third person that was two. As one desperately reads their actions, and the other bears frustration that can’t be detected when trying to convey.

“It’ll get wet.” Y/n finally says and looks at the post-it note furthest away from his chest. Aside from the fact that his navy blazer is even darker on that part, but the 284 in black ink has sort of melted. Nature is in grief over the loss of her leaves and now sheds tears down the Earth. Tears that smudge all over the world like makeup. Juyeon turns towards Y/n who has moved her notes further up her blouse, right beside her tie. Affection and care is beyond these numbers in a way he can’t comprehend, but he smiles either way and turns to the discolord note again. With a new found affection for it he moves it further up too.

“Can you write a new one?” Juyeon asks gently.

Y/n who secures the 220 note of her own on the blazer looks up at him. Eyes that are focused at some point further down the road, his side profile where every feature resembles a sort of perfect ruby, his eyes in the color of a tree in rain. She lets out a sound that should resemble a ‘what?’. Though, Juyeon turns to her immediately and asks gently again.

“Can you write a new one for me?” And points at the orange note.

Y/n looks at him, his eyes crystal clear. Fast she focuses attention on the note and smiles. Despite the autumn weather and downpour that pushes all its force onto them. A soft streamline warmth goes through her and wraps around her heart. Somehow it isn’t holding a tight grip on her throat, rather sympathizes along the mind and whispers to open her walls up so that she can finally breathe. It is a euphoric kind of feeling that makes her want to smile. And so she does and nods as an answer to his question.

It has been raining for days on end. Juyeon has looked out the window everyday and listened to how it crashes onto his roof. But today on one Friday afternoon, when school ends and kids eagerly rush out from the double doors. The clouds decide to reveal the main star of this corner of the universe, and let it shine brightly on Earth. All bicycles stand one after another to create an endless line of colors and thin structures. Juyeon stands in the center of all directions and sees how kids go up to take their bikes. But quickly, he turns away from that sight and searches the rigid edges and sharp angles of the school yard. He reaches onto his toes and bends his knees to find her silhouette obscured at the edges.

At last, he sees a lonely figure under the roof where the school building folds into a corner. How two friends arm in arm walk past her and Y/n pushes herself even higher up against the wall so there is a two meter space between them. East from that center spot, he leaves it. Y/n also has her camera, panning the entire scenery with a smile she only has while filming. The lens lands on Juyeon and he sees how her entire person stops for a bit. He stares into the lens, waves and smiles. Under the complex silver camcorder, she reflects the expression. This camcorder somehow works as a middleman and he winks, visualizing it transferring to the grainy rectangular screen.

Juyeon comes up to the white wall and he, too, leans on the uneven material. “Would you be okay with bicycling down the city with me?” He asks without superficial sentences.

She thinks of the past day, and all other moments they share together. Again, her body seems to create this quick invisible stream that flies past her. Juyeon waits for her at the finish line, even when the season changes and everyone has gone home. No one is there to see her draw a period at the end of her sentence, just Juyeon.

“Okay.” She says weakly and looks up at him with a smile. Y/n can’t quite read what he feels when looking at her at this moment, but his smile becomes even wider. That is a good thing she knows, therefore she wants him to smile like that forever. .

The cycle leans to the right and Juyeon’s leg holds the weight up. At the front of the steering is a basket attached in which he puts his bag. Juyeon’s head leans over his shoulder. On the furthest part of his cycle, she sits with a backpack close to her stomach, and at the same time tighten a helmet. Y/n lifts her chin up so as to not pinch the skin between her neck and head. While doing that, her eyebrows and eyes interlock while her lips stay serene. He discerns each feature of her face.

“Do you always have that with you?” He asks and Y/n looks at him with creased eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen you ride a bike before.”

“I can’t.” Y/n falls back into her monotone voice and rigid demeanor, “Helmet reduces risk of head injury by over 50%, serious injury by 70% and severe traumatic brain injury by 74%.”

Y/n stares at the houses behind Juyeon while her arms shove the canvas fabric of her backpack against her stomach.. From the perspective of the people who pass, Y/n appear to be bound with ropes to Juyeon’s cycle, though in fact, it is her nature. Juyeon still smiles, leans his weight onto the steering.

“Do you judge me that I do not have a helmet?” He asks in which Y/n only shrugs her shoulders and tilts her head so that one strand falls before her eyes.

“I believe in free will.” She says objectively.

A cluster of rocks flies two meters away from the cycle line when he takes off. Juyeon feels a weak force of her pulling on his blazer.

They follow a single road that divides into two. All houses become sharper and higher as trees become all the more scarce. They see how the sky opens up before them and two trees fade to the side of their viewpoint to reveal a skyline with traits of an incoming wave. When they stop at the circle of all the buildings, Juyeon asks Y/n if it’s fine. She nods without a second thought. At every corner, shop or billboard, Juyeon leans down to ask if it’s fine. Even when Y/n walks slower and takes longer to answer his questions, she insists on going.

When the blue sky has turned pink, the two come out in the heart of the spending district. Square screens with colorful advertisements on glass estates that reflects whatever comes at them. The whole city seems to impend on the two of them as they walk the green light. As they hold their head high to see the point where the skyscrapers are swallowed by the sky, a wave of people come right at them. The moment Y/n feel the heat of people coming past her and conversations so loud that she can’t discern the sound of green lights. Y/n falls onto Juyeon’s side. Hold his school blazer, hide her face behind his shoulder, walk so closely that she becomes aware of his trousers, rough against her legs.

Juyeon construes her desperation to not just move out the way, but disappear. In such wise, he let her solace behind him and peek over all heads to see where the ocean hits shore. He can’t find an end to the wall of people that has surrounded them. To escape the spot they stand on he too smallens himself to push through bodies and bodies of Seoul. Juyeon has a hard time even turning his head right, instead, he wishes for that faint pull on his blazer to never let go.

After a minute, he stands on the other side of the line. Juyeon is in front of a restaurant where warm orange light illuminates his left side. Though, he perceives quickly that there is just him here. To face the crowd once again, and look at it from above. Juyeon’s heart races the moment his thoughts come crashing down on him. A new person passes him every second, the light has turned green again and he sees hopeless reflection in the puddle beneath him. The moment the surface bursts from someone's shoe, he doesn’t take another second to look at the broken mirror, instead walks straight into the overcrowded line again.

Again he feels not only the city, but every person impending on him, swallowing him until there is nothing left to do than reach out for air. Juyeon frantically turns his head and body, he apologizes when he walks into someone without making eye contact. His blazer is folded in the wrong places, shoes are wet from the rain puddles, his bag is nearly more like a backpack. In a spot right where the entire Seoul surrounds him, he feels their eyes and turns around to face them all. Juyeon shouts Y/n’s name and perceives the eye of passing strangers, how each one shortly speculates on his messed up appearance and desperate eyes, before going back to their own lifes. Once again, he shouts her name. His body reaches some sort of emptiness. The drain right under him has water from puddles all over the city falling into it and he too feels like it’s slowly taking every part of him.

Though, the green light takes a step down and turns red, only people’s backs are visible as they continue life down a different alleyway. And Juyeon can swear that his heart does such a motion that it nearly hurts in his chest. He breathes out and can feel his legs go out the moment he does. At a white wall on the store filled street, she sits hunched over her own self as if protecting it from the people passing. There is a plant beside her and an alleyway some meters away. The doors from the closest clothing store opens and he sees people coming out and eyeing her figure.

Before another car runs over the horizontal lines, Juyeon leaves and runs up to her. Somehow, she appears smaller than before. The lines of her blazer drapes her like in a blanket and her hair falls over knees and arms near a curtain. The two are furthest into the building on the busy street. Contrast clearly against the loud conversations and constant movement, they’re perfectly still. Juyeon stands right before her feet, he is not even certain that Y/n is aware of his person being here.

With that, he slowly bends his knees to come in the same height as her. Knees brush against his chin and gently he places his hand on the end of her shoe. Juyeon’s hand lies like a feather on top of her black shoes. The touch is barely sensible but enough to create a warmth and Y/n peaks through the strands of hair that cover her face. Juyeon can’t quite make sense of what lies behind those blinds. The evening has crept up on Seoul and none of the million streetlights and store signs pierce through her side. But it doesn’t change his perception, instead Juyeon reaches out for the arm of her blazer and pulls it gently towards his warmth.

He whispers, “Do you want to hide beside me?”

Y/n nods. He stands up again while still holding the blue fabric. Y/n slowly follows his motions, the moment she is up, she moves to his side to stand in the same position as when they were crossing the street. Streetlights show the way out of the center and Juyeon leads as Y/n faces the ground.

When he thinks of how he could feel her breathe from behind and pull on his clothing, the current situation seems rather depressing. Instead of a slight pull on his jacket to indicate her existence, he looks behind every now and then to see her face completely mirror the passing ground. Her hands grab onto the space of the bicycle she’s not sitting on and her backpack depends on her weak shoulders. By the impending asphalt they travel by, Juyeon discerns small circles and by the time they’ve reached the alleys of warm colored trees, it’s raining again.

As the complexes get all tighter and shorter, more bricks, cats run past them to hide under wood. Juyeon regards a hasty, dejected part of his heart. A part that has developed during the moment he sat himself on the cycle and just growed larger the further they’ve gotten. The girl behind him looks just like the dying leaves on the passing trees. He stays quiet because there is nothing to say, or he does it because he knows their perception of the world runs like parallel lines. Either way, Juyeon takes all slower and slower steps on the pedals as he needs to break their silence.

“I don’t know where your house is?” Juyeon leans back and speaks composedly. Their blazers are a shade darker than before and water from their hair runs down on their shirts. He whispers again and hopes she will answer. Finally she points weakly to the right where a brick and concrete house with a balcony continues. The moment she points, he takes force again. But Juyeon quickly slows down when they pass door after door. He waits for a sign from her and if he wasn’t attentive at the moment, he wouldn’t have heard the quiet russells of her backpack.

Juyeon fully stops the bike and his feet fall right on a puddle. Water converts from the spot she steps down into. Her hair covers whatever her face is telling and juyeon grabs the steering a bit tighter. Aside from the constant rain, there is complete silence between them. Y/n stands there, a meter away, like it is a responsibility. How her hands grab the straps of her back pack and rain soaked hair covers her existence.

“Thanks…” Y/n whispers with a voice devoid of any personality.

In one way, he answers her and the figure of a drained uniform moves step after step closer to a door on the left. Until she disappears behind it and he is left staring at the same spot she once stood in. How the coldness of the rain finally hits him, and a shiver starts

at the top of his shoulder, down to the hand on the steering. The earth looks so much colder all of a sudden and he can no longer see the beauty of the pink flower petals beside the door. Juyeon bites his lip and turns his bicycle the other way.

He doesn’t jump back up onto the cycle, rather, continues to let the cracks in the road take him home. This moment, he thinks, reminds him of a scene from childhood. When during an autumn morning, walk out alone between the trees and high grass while his parents were asleep. At the entrance of the forest, he met a creature different from himself. A deer. Juyeon with the lowest part of his jeans in puddles from the night rain and fleece going well past his hands, stands still while sharing its space. The deer doesn’t move, rather, looks at him too. And how the world moves slower for just this moment and the magical creature takes a step closer. Juyeon reached out his hand and the deer eventually sniffed it. The morning silence made him feel like it was just the two of them in this world. But in a second it shatters. When a toy car falls out of his left pocket and plummets right onto a moss covered stone. The deer, frightened and looks at him with eyes that makes him feel like a traitor and before being able to beg for forgiveness, it’s already gone.

The teacher is talking and points at white chalk structure on the green board, but Juyeon tilts his head onto his palm. He stares at a spot in this space that is now empty. That chair, furthest into the classroom. And as another day passes he does the same. Juyeon keeps turning to the places wherein his memories, Y/n are in. But before his heart races, it falters since there is no one to reciprocate it.

It’s Wednesday right after lunch, five days after Juyeon asked Y/n to follow him down the city center. Juyeon sits alone on that sofa in the janitor’s room. His head faces the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, cracks and bits of dry paint. Nauseousness makes a sort of impression on his heart when he looks at the four walls on all sides. His body has a sort of hyper sensibility in contrast. One that has him tremor his leg and itch deep into the skin beside his nails.

The skyscrapers he passed everyday, people that were a part of his daily routine and stores with neon signs where his friends would meet on Saturday evening. It is all so beautiful to him, but crawls like nightmares over Y/n’s mind. Everytime he closes his eyes, he sees that scene of her body desperately saving itself and how the world that have raised him like a mother, performs the very reasons to be alive- grip onto her limbs to kick and scream at her contracting conception.

His head adverts from the ceiling to lay on its side. To look at the now empty seat that triggers memories. He’s a stranger to being alone. To always be surrounded by life and its consciousness, he thinks it must kind of protect him from something else threading this world, Juyeon feels the inanimate objects descend onto him.

While he feels like that, a sort of curiosity blooms like spring within him. Juyeon turns to her empty seat again and pictures her figure in constant desolation. How she seems natural and drawn to tunnel vision and cubicle spaces without undertone of life. Juyeon knits his eyebrows and stares at the bulb again. How come she who detaches the world in her camcorder and isolates herself in rooms without personalities, went on and on in the overcrowded city center.

A ache in his heart sources the nauseous to drown his mind once again. He thinks of the walls that have comforted her, held her because she doesn’t know who else will do. The clock moves forward another minute and before it strikes 13:15, he walks up to take a hatched A4 paper and a line pencil, broken at the top. He sort of draws in all his thoughts to a timeless collection, but walks up again to find an eraser. Where his thoughts write themselves as Russian novels, he needs to shorten them to a modern short story. With concise word choice and covered sentences that deviate from the point, he folds over the letter.

In the same spot he stood three days ago, Juyeon now sees himself again. Between the edge of the asphalt and platform to her door, is an expanse of grass. He guides his bicycle up to it and bends down the support with his feet. When he walks up onto the platform, his figure sways a bit to the left. Juyeon’s eyes focus on the gap where the stone meets the door, then slowly make its way towards the door handle. Feet lift up and down from the platform like it will somehow open the door and he scratches his nape like someone will come from behind and open. After a minute, he imagines the flower pot beside him breathing and living so he does the same. Right at that moment, Juyeon reaches out his hand to knock on the door, and at the same time, his left leg directs to a spot, away from the door.

For a brief time, his ambiance stands static against time and he contends whether to leave this platform. As the passing stream behind him takes a single leaf down the drain, he takes a step down. And when he is fully out of the atmosphere of the door, it opens. Y/n’s home stands wide for him in a second. Juyeon, uncomfortable by the pure display of someone’s life, is rigid at every part of his body. A meter before him, through the angle of being two steps below them, stands a woman in his own parents' age.

As expected by life. Time has affected her essence, with each year, spread out to the edges of her person. But like Earth with her ever changing nature and folds from tectonic plates. She is ever so beautiful. Juyeon won’t say anything and the woman smiles as another second passes without him moving. Her sudden change in expression drives the earth another step around its axis and he can feel spring go right through him.

“Is there something to help with?” She asks.

Finally he orders his limbs in a sort of acceptable pattern and his posture in a way he’d seen male leads do when waiting for their bride to walk down the aisle. Before he answers, Juyeon coughs lightly and looks on the grass and platform. The woman again smiles at his flustered state.

“It’s your daughter, Mrs.y/l/n.” He coughs again. She holds a hand on the door frame and looks up at his face. From her angle he positions right where the sun would be.

“I wanted to know if she’s okay?.” He looks down and sees her eyes go a bit bigger.

“You’re a friend of Y/n?”

It’s quiet. “ I moved here recently.” Juyeon points towards an ambiguous spot behind him, “We’ve been hanging out for a week.”

Her smile becomes even more evident and he can’t help but mirror it. Each time she asks him something or smiles at him, his shoulders loosens a bit and he becomes the one self he sees in the puddle reflection. Juyeon finds no gap between their question and answers to take up his folded letter. And by the moment at the edge of their small talk, the mother asks him;

“Please come in, don’t stand in the rain.” She walks to the side, and now the whole hallway down to the last window stands before him. Juyeon hesitates;

“Are you sure? Is Y/n okay with that?”

Again she eyes him in a way to ask him where he comes from. Juyeon reads something sincere from her pupil out to the brown color. He wonders when he looks at him like this, in what order of people have come to this house at the side of the road. If, to count up all the numbers of people that have stood on the platform like he does now and get to surround themself with their life. In what place would he land? Number seven, twenty fifth or fourteenth. In his mind complexion, the furthest part of him works like a voice in whisper, asking if he may be the first to visit for Y/n.

“She’s in her room, as long as we’re quiet it’s okay.” She says sincerely and Juyeon nods. To step in and feel the wind stop brushing up against his back, it feels at peace. On the black carpet under the door, he places his shoes and follows the mother down the two walls. To the left is the kitchen area. A rectangular table in the midst of all pans, towels and carpets. She takes out a chair and reaches out her hand towards the one right in front.

“Sit.”

Juyeon thanks her before accommodate. Y/n’s mother works as a foreground to the windows behind her and the trees they frame. Each wall has a row of postcards and under the windows stands flower pots with lamps double its length. On the table stands an empty mug and a candle nearly burnt all the way down. So much that it has dropped and hardened on the table surface.

“Is she okay, then?” Juyeon leans forward, eyes wide and with glitter at the edges.

The woman’s smile and fond look turns to a disheartened mothers one quickly after he asks it. She starts holding the cup and smiles weakly again.

“It used to be worse.” The mother sighs, “She wants to be alone when it gets overwhelming.” “She knows what stresses her so it doesn’t happen much anymore.” She looks at a door to the left, which he assumes is Y/n’s room.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you in.” She says.

“Oh, it’s okay, I didn’t expect to see her.”

“Then why are you here?”

He coughs and starts searching his pockets, “I wanted to leave this.” He hands her the letter, “I think I did some wrongs, I just want to reassure her.”

She takes it, “What do you do together?”

“We’re in the library or janitor’s room often. I think she likes it when I read to her so I search up books with topics that I think might interest her and read them out loud. She gives me post-it notes too so I try to write some back.” Juyeon takes out the 284 note from his blazer and shows it to the mother.

Each stroke of the black ink on the orange paper is written in fine thought. The letters that barely take up a twelfth of the square and a period at the end, no matter what she writes. The mother turns away from the note and observes the boy she has before her. Somehow he has landed in her house, it gets absurd and entangled when she tries to figure out how. But nonetheless another human being sits here in sincere patience for her daughter. Those ideas he voiced before, using words like “I think” and “try”. She falls into a sort of trance of intrigue of his seemingly confused state of what is the right way to approach this person, and at the same time innocent passion to find out.

“I’ll make sure she gets it.” The mother says as she breaks off from looking at the young boy. In attentive fashion she leans the letter onto the depressing candle. Juyeon stares at the rectangular piece of paper in the middle of the empty table. It makes itself at home in her house and he feels a bit of relief wash over him the longer he stares at it.

“Thank you.” Juyeon stands up and bows.

Y/n’s mother also rises from the chair to bow. He walks out of the kitchen and disappears behind the wall. Short after, she hears the front door open and slowly closes, just the sound of one metal falling into place with another. She is left alone like before he came into their lives, and she stares down at the little letter. Though he’s not here anymore, a part of him has sunken into the walls of their home and she breathes out like something heavy has fallen off her chest. The first time a person her daughter’s age came to their home was on a usual Wednesday afternoon, right after work.

She reaches her hand out for the center of the door and knocks gently three times. Shortly after, she opens it and peaks between the fifteen centimeter opening and then pulls it all the way to reveal her daughter on the floor. Y/n sits with her legs up to her chin and hugs them at the same time. She can’t fully perceive her face, solely her side profile. In which, it is illuminated by the square TV over a VHS player. To focus on the screen, she sees a scenery way too familiar. Despite having about twenty VHS on the floor beside her, her mother can only name about five different places that seem to be the same clip over and over. But each tape has its number and there seems to be a shift in scenario from each one, invisible to her mothers eye.

“Are you comfortable eating in the kitchen?” Her mother’s voice is quiet and light, tender and sympathetic.

Y/n shakes her head and falls even deeper behind her knees. She has spent the last days in the same uniform she came home in. The scene before her is devoid of any color and she sighs in a way that only she herself can hear.

“Okay.” Her mother acknowledges, “I’ll come back.”

Her mother walks in again and places a white plate beside her daughter. In addition to the plate, Juyeon’s letter is neatly placed above it. Her mother leaves the room and when Y/n hears the door lock with the frame, she turns to the plate. The letter folded neatly and placed in the limelight, she picks it up. To separate the glue from the paper, she folds it open and reads the letter.

this is juyeon

I had fun Friday, but honestly, I think I like it the most in the janitor’s room or the library. I like the stores but it’s even better when you give me post-it notes. I’m not a great reader, teachers always said I had too little expression, but I enjoy reading for you. When I think of the short time we’ve had together, those are the moments that come to mind. I can’t really recall your voice or say confidently which eye color you have, light brown? But you describe nature in numbers and when I look at a tree, I think of that formula you told me. I don’t know why you see five hundred in blue, but every time I see it, I see it in that color.

I should be straightforward. I don’t think you need to change because I like how you give me a new way to look at the world.

sorry for making things complex and illogical : )

A sort of silence walks around the room. Even when she folds the square paper to its original form, it is ever present. A sensation so hard that it falls out like light between the crack of one's door. She must grab the center of her chest, push whatever’s begging to come out into her isolated heart. Y/n’s breath becomes even more prominent. Dreams start to affect reality and she sits there in silence for a while. Face the world with her hidden colors and different angles.

“Mother…”

She squints her eyes and looks at the silhouette between the frames.

“Yes.”

“Where is the tape recorder?” Y/n asks. Her mother points at an ambiguous spot in the dark. But she eventually finds the black recorder and the tape material. To close the door and leave her mother to ask the moon about the shift in person.

The moon stands at the top of Earth and shines on its surface. Y/n leans on her single window and stares at it like it is just the two of them in this current world. The rain has moved over her hometown as it has followed the wind to the southern part of the country. Without the rows of streetlights, the night sky is decorated with faint circles of light. Fades into different colors in a way that you forget they’re larger than the celestial they stand on.

Y/n sits at the end of her bed. The single window opens up before it and the moon shines its light over her bed, in which the sheet reflects it back in a sort of white-lavender magic. She has finally taken off her white blouse and navy skirt, folded neatly at the top of her chair. Instead she has a white dress that ruffles at the wrists and follows no lines of her own body. As she sits there together with the moonlight, she has a notebook in her lap. While writing and erasing words she continuously pulls back the front pieces of her hair behind her ear as they fall in front of the pages.

Once the moon has moved another hour, its reflection is up against Y/n’s wall. She straightens her back to look honestly at the paper she has covered. It nearly feels like another hour moves by before she lays the notebook on her pillow and reaches behind her to take up the tape recorder. Y/n takes the end of the rectangular box close to her lips and pushes down the button on its side. It makes a sound that is perceived as deafening in her timeless room.

A second goes by and another one just like it. Instead of looking at the words she just has written, she stares at the moon like it's watching her. There is something very vulnerable sitting on her bed, in her room and with a recorder. Every leaf on the tree outside, the moon, its stars, her chair and the camcorder on her desk. Everything with its 3 dimensions perceive a drastic change in her heart. Somehow, it feels extremely frightening growing leaves and sprouts during the second half of the year, when everything else is slowly dying.

At the center of the entrance, Juyeon doesn’t take another step forward. He watches the backs of his classmates continue into the school, while he fades from them. To stand still in the hallway where each one goes through their changes, Juyeon is standing hard-set to the wet floor and wrapped in other dimensions than the one stands on. At the front of the locker that’s been vacant of life, stands a girl in her usual presence. Like time has refused to move during these past days. Y/n closes her locker and just guides a passing look over the hallway, they meet eye contact.

As they stand face to face towards each other, Juyeon perceives how colors fill his vision and rush against his heart. A girl seemingly devoid of happiness, like the rain clouds bringing life to the ones around it. Students walk right through the invisible wire, though, it feels a bit like radio silence. Her expression has fallen into a neutral and perceiving nature. There is nothing to judge in her demeanor as her hands can grab onto her backpack or her feet kick in the front door.

A sudden spark between the stations and a jump from either side to the other. He receives a call back from the opposite side of the earth and Y/n stars walking towards him. The radio signal figures its way into his heart and wraps around his mind. Juyeon, similar to the broken TV at home, is adamant on the single position he is in, unable to comprehend what the other ways to go exist. Finally, she comes up before him.

The feeling of air loss becomes all frequent as his heartbeat pulsates in an unusual rhythm . His hand hangs from its side, the right twitches as he becomes aware of it just simply being on his side, awkwardly, without purpose. After all, the hallway is nearly empty, and the last of their classmates walk into the classroom. In that moment, when one steps their heel onto the cold hard floor, Y/n brings out a cassette tape. With one hand on the backpack strap and the other holding the cassette tape, halfway left until she meets his life. Juyeon looks at her with big eyes and slowly closes what’s left between them. When he holds it in his hands, Y/n moves to the left, changes directions and her back disappears behind the classroom door.

Juyeon turns to see the end of the classroom throughout the lectures. But Y/n passes him like she has never had an affect on his life. The tape that fits in his palm holds answers to the insecurities that have been eating him from the inside. At his usual spot under the window in the library, he looks up and down the room before pressing play on the player.

It is all quiet at first. He senses a faint sound of leaves being taken by a wind and an owl two trees away.

It’s Y/n…, she coughs.

I want to say thank you. Her voice shakes, I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me. I think about it a lot… and I still don’t understand. …You’re the first person I want to be around, but I don’t want to bother you, so I try to be…

There’s silence again.

I- sometimes it feels like you’re reading my mind, but I can’t even understand what your facial expression means. I try to be more like you, but I can’t do that, I’m sorry…But I think I’m relieved you understand…

She breathes as if she’s about to say something more, but it abruptly stops before any words are left spoken. The recording is over and Juyeon taps play again as if hoping something else will come out if it. Instead he falls back and looks at the ceiling. To be left in the ame position and have your heart running like you’ve passed half the globe in just 5 minutes. Juyeon closes his eyes to feel that warmth escape his chest and drown his body.

Without exchanging words, they walk again along the asphalt. Let each crack in the road guide them home. Y/n won’t acknowledge his existence when she lets go of the door to her home. A familiar surrounding opens up before him, but a sort of new found appreciation and excitement blossoms between his heart as Y/n herself lets him into her world. Her mother sits on the same chair as she did when they talked, and he bows as far as his back allows him to. Neither daughter or mother does any sort of audible affirmation of the scene in their kitchen. Rather, mother’s eyes won’t close and Y/n awkwardly shifts in the same spot until she grabs onto Juyeon’s blazer and opens the door to her own room.

They sit here, on her carpet in the middle of her room. Y/n observe the boy before her. When he holds his head low and falls deep into his own world, she gets a chance to look at him without distractions. To pick apart his devine features honestly and ask questions without fear of judgment. However, Juyeon notices in the background how no movements seem to come from Y/n’s hand and he then looks up to see her gazing at him in a sort of overwhelming way.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asks and takes up his left hand to his lips.

Despite Juyeon now preceding how her arm moves forward and naturally fragrant when she comes closer, Y/n continues dissecting. When she bends a centimeter to see his face from a lower angle, his posture trunks rigid and he doesn’t blink as if she will do something unprecedented if he does. It’s something intimidating with how she leans on her hands to support her weight as she comprehends every hidden feature or flaw on his face.

“I don’t understand you.” Y/n finally says without expressions and falls back onto her spot.

“I don’t either.” Juyeon smiles before he looks back on his poetry book. Each sentence adds onto the other and builds a sort of wall. He treasures each word like the stroke of one's brush and back away to see the complete painting. Though, as he falls in love with the words on the paper, he takes interest in how Y/n still hasn’t moved. Juyeon looks up again and sees her face staring at the same features as before. Dissecting and annotating.

His curiosity leads him into a well of deep fascination. A person who twitches when one's skin comes too close to hers and escapes into an uncertain point when eye contact becomes too overbearing. Somehow sits before him, closer than ever, with hands on the floor like she’s never going to let go. His eyes close and he imagines Y/n counting his fluttering eyelashes. And memorize them like a math equation.

Eventually, like everything else, she falls back to the place she came from. A gap wider than before has occurred between them, but no wind or coldness force itself the protective layer they’ve created. Juyeon doesn’t look back down to his poems, instead waits for her. After some passing seconds, Y/n looks down towards her hatched notebook before he pushes it towards him.

A rectangular sheet of paper, covered in rows of numbers and symbols. He sees short key words with arrows pointing towards a formula running ten centimeters of the paper. He connects number 284 with his clock, but 4, 8 and 10? Y/n have quietly observed him when playing basketball, drawing or calculating. How many times he blows on a spoon of hot soup, pushes his locker or shakes his rain-covered umbrella. It is all detailed in her book that she takes whatever she goes.

His birthday at the top of the page, equal sign after equal sign down to the formula 3 x 7 = 21. Description of clouds during a free spring in the clear blue background. A single circle connected with a line towards the 21. Annotated in yellow with an extra note about clouds edging on pastel. The circle at the bottom of the page, chasing its diviness.

“But it doesn’t make sense.” Y/n says quietly and stares at her complex row of mathematical poetry.

“Does it have to?” Juyeon tilts his head and Y/n looks up at him again. Her eyebrows are knitted and her lips sealed as ever, “Does it have to make sense?”

Juyeon can repeat his questions infinitely, but she will not fully receive the purpose of his question. In which he catches up to his own self and the divider of the world they live in. To look at her with a new perspective on the world, Juyeon picks up the bundle of orange post-it-notes. On each one, he draws circles with bent edges and unsymmetrical halves. Either way, he pulls each one off and attaches it against her blazer. The circle in perfect nature and worshiped figure. He sees her in it. Sculpted by nature and perfect in its way of life.

Y/n looks down at the ten different circles on her blazer and then back up at Juyeon, “I don’t understand it either, I just like your existence.”

Y/n smiles just faintly.

The puddles from yesterday’s rain have created a pattern over the rooftop. Juyeon stands five meters away from the stairs and leans on the metal railing. As it is break time, he watches his classmates occupate themselves at every corner of the dry ground. An incoming wind takes friction against him and disappears between the layers of his clothes. He pushes his arms closer against each other and his silhouette falls in height. Since the morning, Juyeon has realized that even autumn’s soon passing him by.

As the changing season moves along, he feels his own heart transform. To look back on the past months, he sees himself in a sort of continuous evolution. He feels another wind take on him and he sees Y/n in the mirage of his memories. Each step in the transformation, she stands at the opposite corner of the room or right beside him. He thinks of her camcorder covering half of her face to the day they sat on the floor of her room. Y/n too, seems to have been ever changing this time too.

Since the day she confessed she couldn’t understand him, she has been carrying that notebook. Juyeon takes notice of how when he mentions something in passing, Y/n takes up the book to annotate it. And for each time they meet eyes, cross paths in the hallway or make eye contact in the classroom. Her eyes seem brighter. He looks at his world and wonders why it feels different, he blames the dead leaves and colder weather. But Juyeon starts to think that maybe Y/n has discovered something new, loosened the routines she worshiped.

When he thinks about her, the door from behind opens. The weather storm around his ears and he looks back to see the person in the door frame. She lets the door fall to the closed space and the whole building surrounds the two. All hair strands fall before her face, covering whatever emotion for him. Her hand moves up to her right side and brushes away beside her ear. Y/n smiles as brightly as a person like her does and walks forward. Beside him on the railing, they stand together and look out over the changing landscape.

“You’re not cold?” Juyeon looks at her and she shakes her head. Like always, they make room for each other to speak or nature to voice its thoughts.

“I’ve figured it out.” Y/n smiles and takes up the notebook he has seen everyday. When she looks up at him with one page open. Juyeon gently leans forward and observes the wall of numbers, to nearly create some sort of mathematical painting.

She starts to describe the number and their sentences, how each one affects the other. Soon it all starts falling like a domino. Her words come out faster and with no sort of adjustment in language. Each formula becomes blurrier than the other, and before she is on the last equal sign, Juyeon has given up trying to dissect the words she’s speaking, rather look at her features glistening while describing. Even without summer sun, her face emits a warmth, golden light.

Y/n talks about longitude and latitude, his birthday, bicycle, address, carbon and Earth’s birth. He can’t count them all, but all his parts are intertwined with the universe in a sixteen part formula, in which it all ends with his existence, the exact coordinate and exact time.

Even when there are no words left to say, he admires her calm features that lingers over the A4 paper. She looks at it with a sort of gentleness only spring and a small village 3 miles outside the city center has. Juyeon’s hair falls before his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to correct it. All the words he can’t fully grasp, it becomes a parentheses, as the scenery behind it pierce through the curtains and reveals itself for him. As she holds the equation close to her heart, and he doesn’t ask her why since, he knows she too loves his existence.

BONUS

At the end of a long day, Juyeon lies in his bed with the ceiling like constellation above him. Right before the two parted ways, Y/n gave him a cassette tape. He has them all stacked against each other on the rectangular night stand. At number 11, he can no longer fit his lamp, it stands below his bed. To press 'play' and pull the sound close to his essence. His world does another year and his heart compress. It's just three words in her voice, but it sends Earth colliding. Juyeon lies there as the sun moves over the sky, to press the 'play' button over and over again.

A/N: if anyone made it down here, i really want to say thank you for reading. Im not confident in this fic, i really love it, but im not sure it turned out good enough. thats all, thank you again!

#deoboyznet #tbz imagines #tbz #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x fem reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #the boyz angst

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elisela · 2 years ago

Note

January OTP Prompts:

Old bookstore on a cold day for Sterek

Happy New Year! 🤍

mountain man sterek, bookshop au, fluff

“Mountain man is here,” Scott whispers in his ear, hands gripping Stiles’ shoulders as he carefully moves behind him in the narrow space. “Biographies.”

Stiles nods and glances around the small cafe space. The tables are occupied, but no one looks like they’re about to need a second cup, so he feels free to announce, “Just going to go get a new bag from the back,” to Kira, despite having just done that no more than thirty minutes ago.

But Scott must have also said something to Kira because she just nods with a grin, and Stiles leaves the counter before fate can intervene. And if he can just see into the history section from the very edge of the double doors that lead into their dismal excuse for a kitchen, that’s no one’s business but his own.

He stays there until Mountain Man leaves the shop.

---

Mountain Man is an enigma. Stiles had been certain, the first time he’d walked up to his counter, that he was going to be gruff and rude, like the assholes from the bank across the street that treat the small space like their personal conference room and bark out orders without any regard to the fact an actual person was taking them. But his eyes—which are so beautiful that Stiles wrote four atrocious poems about them in his Intro to Poetry class—had been kind, and when he’d given his order he’d said please twice, and Stiles had fallen head over heels.

In fact, the majority of Stiles’ assumptions about him have been proven incorrect, so he supposes that out of the two of them, he’s likely the rude one. He’d figured Mountain Man was there for the coffee, only to be surprised when he caught a glimpse of the man at the registers an hour later with a stack of books in his hands. His assumption that he was only getting the latest quickly read and easily digestible thrillers was shown to be wrong when Kira spotted him buying classics the next month, and then Stiles stopped assuming anything about him at all.

Except, of course, for the fact that he lives up in the mountains that surround their small little college town (the boots and beard give that away), works with his hands for a living (always calloused), is somewhere in his late thirties (laugh lines around his eyes, silver beginning to streak through his beard) and has no significant other—though that last one might just be wishful thinking.

----

“Stiles, could you go see if Allison can trade us for some ones?”

He takes the twenty dollar bill from Kira and steps out from behind the counter. The store’s been dead all day, he’s pretty sure there are still a stack of ones sitting in the register. “You’re not fooling me,” he says, and she grins back at him.

“Who said I was trying to?”

Allison’s up at the front register, leaning her elbows on the counter and texting, phone in front of her face. It’s an act that would get the rest of them written up, but Allison’s clearly fine with taking advantage of the fact that her parents own the store and Stiles can’t really fault her for that. If his dad were running it he’d probably delight in kicking people out the moment they asked if someone could help them find a book with a yellow cover.

And in front of Allison, browsing the small section of puzzle books and journals, is Mountain Man.

“Hey hey, boss lady,” he says. There’s no way to angle himself to keep Mountain Man in view, but if he bends over enough he can sort of see his reflection in the poster-covered glass windows.

She sets her phone down and grins at him, snatching the bill out of his hand. “Hello yourself, coffee boy. No token of your appreciation this time?”

“Kira’s making it as we speak,” he says, and she shakes her head when he uses his in-store radio to quietly order it. “But if you could be so kind in the meantime—”

“You’re such a dork,” she says fondly, pushing a stack of dollar bills into his hand. “Go get my coffee, I’m practically asleep up here. I told Dad no one would come in today, there’s three feet of snow on the ground.”

“Maybe someone could convince him to close early,” he says, walking backwards out of the section. His gaze strays to Mountain Man and when their eyes meet, his heart starts beating double-time. He glances down at the books in his hands—a few that Stiles recognizes from the YA section, even more from the display of queer novels that Allison had set up for Valentine’s day. “Good selection,” he says, “Red, White, and Royal Blue was good,” and spins around in his haste to get back to the cafe.

Kira’s holding a cup in her hand, but pulls it back towards her when he flings himself over the counter. “What?”

He needs water. Or to plunge himself into a snowbank to cool his overheated face. “Please remind me that straight guys read gay love stories too so I don’t go do something reckless.”

“That hasn’t been my experience at all,” Kira says cheerfully, pushing him upright and handing the cup over. “Go get his name, at least.”

Mountain Man is gone by the time Stiles gets back up there.

---

He stashed his marker somewhere. He knows he did, he always has it to write the orders on the cups, and most of the time he puts it back in his apron pocket—except when his pockets are full of the bags of espresso beans he was supposed to restock before the swarm of banker bros took over the place. He’d taken their orders, empties his pockets, and then promptly spent the last five minutes looking for his marker, which seems to have grown legs and walked off on its own.

A throat clears above him when he’s crouched down checking the overflow shelves under the register for the third time unsuccessfully, and admitting defeat, he straightens up.

Mountain Man is in front of him.

“Hey,” he says, instead of welcome to Argent Books like he’s supposed to. “Whatcha havin’?”

“Medium vanilla latte, oatmilk, please,” Mountain Man says. He hands over cash, much to Stiles’ continuing dismay, because it would so much easier to get his name from a card, but doesn’t leave when Stiles calls the order to Kira and slides a cup along the counter. He just stands there, look of discomfort on his face, until he says, “Did you really like that book?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“The, uh—Red, White, and Royal Blue,” Mountain Man says. “Did you really like it?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then, “well, no, it’s not really my thing, but everyone else liked it. I haven’t actually read it, I started the first chapter but I wasn’t in the mood for any kind of coming of age story and the romance—maybe if it were like, a gay detective novel, that shit would be cool. Or sci-fi—have you read This is How You Lose the Time War? That was good.”

He’s about ready to fling himself into the dumpster out back when Kira appears at his side, handing the cup over with a grin and Mountain Man, clearly sensing an opportunity to get away from Stiles, thanks them and walks away.

“Why don’t you go take inventory in the back until you don’t look like a tomato,” Kira says kindly, patting his flaming cheek, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

The afternoon picks up and although Stiles doesn’t forget about the awkward encounter, he at least puts it out of his mind—until his phone buzzes in his apron pocket and he picks it up, expecting a text from Scott or his Dad, and promptly drops it straight onto the floor.

“Oh,” Kira says, peering around his shoulder at the picture of This is How You Lose the Time War laying on a couch, folded flannel blanket underneath. “Did I tell you I gave Mountain Man your number? I wrote it on the cup—you were never going to get around to it!” she says, whacking his arm. “And I’ll take your gratitude any day now, he’s clearly interested in talking to you, though sometimes I can’t imagine why.”

He only spends a minute hyperventilating before leaving the cafe area, snatching a familiar pink book off a display table, and taking a picture in return. Thought I’d give this another try, he writes under it, and follows it up with maybe we could meet up for coffee and talk about them.

He presses send before he can think about it, and breaks into a grin when the reply comes back quickly.

I’d like that.

He’ll worry about getting Mountain Man’s name some other time.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eli writes #eli's january otp prompts

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ramblingoak · 2 years ago

Text

Copia is Terrible at Telling Scary Stories: Terzo Edition

Papa III tries to tell Copia’s ghouls a scary story

(gen, sfw, this is just silly)

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

“And to this day the beautiful sister can never look at her reflection. Even if it’s in a window…even if it’s in a puddle of water. If she ever sees her own eyes looking back at her the demon will take possession of her body. She will be forced to spend eternity trapped inside her own mind, feeling nothing but fear and pain,” Copia watched as Terzo rested his hands behind his back and let his audience absorb the ending.

The stupid smug bastard.

“Yes my little ghoul, do you have a question?” Copia whipped his head around and glared as Dewdrop lowered his hand. The little gremlin had sat perfectly still the entire time, never interrupting Papa once. The ghoul didn’t even touch any of the s’mores that were being made while Papa spoke. Terzo had brought two sisters out with him and they had quietly made them while he told his tale, passing them out to Copia’s ghouls with little smug smiles on their faces.

“Can she look at pictures of herself?” Copia scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course she could look at pictures of herself! A picture was not the same as a reflection. He crossed his arms over his chest and began to shake his head but he stopped and turned when he heard a growling sound. Aether’s head was turned his way and Copia could see the glow of his purple irises through the lenses. Alright, fine.

“Thank you Dewdrop that’s actually an excellent question,” Even through his mask it was easy to see that Dew was preening under the praise. Sunshine leaned over and knocked her shoulder against him. A quick grin full of fangs flashing in the opening of her mask. What in the fuck was happening? Did Terzo drug his ghouls?

“You see, the poor sister can technically look at pictures of herself. She can even have her picture taken! But everytime she looks at them she only sees the demon staring back at her. It only appears to her, but it’s there no matter how old it is. It could be a picture of her as a baby or one someone just took of her today.” Copia heard Swiss mutter about how horrible that was and honestly what the fuck? He was about to grab one of the sticks the sisters used to roast marshmallows with and stab himself in the face.

“Alright, well I hope everyone had fun! Tummies full of chocolate and marshmallows yeah?” Terzo stood up and gently cupped Cumulus’s chin. When he let go she leaned into Cirrus and they giggled together. Maybe Copia should just summon a whole batch of new ghouls. Really mean ones. Terzo motioned to the sisters he brought with him and they started to gather up their supplies.

“Wait, don’t worry Papa, we’ll clean up!” Rain chirped from his place between Aether and Mountain. Lucifer even Rain had been enthralled. Like Papa was some sort of warlock. Honestly that made sense. What else would’ve made his ghouls sit there and listen to that story without interrupting? No one even stole food or bit each other!

“Thank you, sweet Rain. You are always so helpful, actually all of you are. I’m sure our Cardinal knows how lucky he is, eh?” Copia gritted his teeth at the sight of Mountain shaking his head ‘no’. All. New. Ghouls. “Alright ladies, let’s go back to my room and uh, clean up a bit yeah?” The sisters giggled as they each held onto an arm and made their way from the fire and back towards the abbey. Dewdrop even waved at them as they passed.

Copia watched as his soon to be unemployed ghouls began to pick up after Papa. They were talking with each other excitedly. Probably fawning over Papa and how good his story was. How delicious the s’mores were. His stupid handsome face.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a throat clear. Terzo and his companions had stopped right next to Copia and were whispering to each other. The sisters smiled and let go of Terzo to keep walking towards the abbey. Papa lightly slapped their asses as they left his side and their giggles echoed around the campfire.

Copia remained perfectly still as Terzo’s attention switched to him. Copia looked at him warily, unsure of what was going through the man’s head. Papa stepped up close to Copia and then leaned in next to his ear, “Well that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Papa stepped back and gave Copia a wink and then went to jog after the sisters.

Smug fucking asshole.

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

my masterlist

my ao3

#my writing #my fics #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #nameless ghoul fanfiction #cardinal copia #copia #papa emeritus iii #terzo #the band ghost #ghost #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghouls

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the-apprentice-lia · 3 years ago

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hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course�� or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

#asra headcanons #asra x mc #countess nadia #julian devorak #julian the arcana #lucio the arcana #muriel the arcana #muriel x mc #asra the arcana #nadia headcanons #portia the arcana #portia devorak #julian headcanons #the arcana fluff #nadia the arcana fluff

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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Castle Under The Stars

Summary: You always worry when its a full moon and your husband is away on assignment, but this full moon is different as he comes home to be with you. Will it be for good? And just how much fun can two werewolves get up to during the full moon when they have a child to look after?

A continuation of Moonlight On The Sand

Pairing: Werewolf Captain Syverson x Werewolf Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Werewolves, Breeding, Breeding Kink.

Typos are free range and organic, allowed to run wild and free. I do not operate a tag list but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll get an alert each time i post something new. Past works can also be found there.

Castle Under The Stars

You stepped out onto the back porch and propped the door open with a boot, the warm summer's breeze blowing softly at the net curtains on the kitchen windows, bringing in the scent of the roses in from the garden. Wiping your hands on your apron before hanging it on the little hook by the door, you grabbed your garden shears and flower basket, and headed out with bare feet onto the cool grass. The windows of your cabin all stood open, allowing the warm breeze to flow through the house, but also so you could hear if your little one cried from his nursery.

Quietly you stood and let the breeze push your light skirt against your legs as you carefully selected roses from the overloaded bushes. Small clouds skidded across the night sky, and for a moment you turned your face to feel the soft moonlight on your skin. The reflection of the sun's rays on its surface from orbit made your skin prickle, as if someone was pouring champagne over your limbs, but that was as far as your transformation would go, with the exception of the ring of fire in your irises.

You had been Sixteen when you had been turned. On a geology camping field trip, nature had literally callen and as you’d been in the bushes relieving yourself that’s when the lupine had got you. It took a few months to realise what had happened, and it was only when your monthly period bleed coincided with a full moon did you turn. With irregular cycles through your teens and early twenties, you probably only turned twice, maybe three times a year, but eventually you got used to it.

It had however been a bit of a shock to your new husband, Sy, when you had turned for the first time. He’d knocked you up on the first day he met you, so it took a good 11 months before your cycle had come back, two months after the birth of your precious baby boy. That first night had been a challenge; dealing with a newborn whilst both parents were howling at the moon, however you were thankful that Edith who lived in the cabin down the lane knew of these things, and upon hearing the howling had rushed over in her nightgown.

Since then Edith had been like a surrogate mother and grandmother, as it turned out her late husband had the lupine tendencies too. Your deployment had ended whilst you were on maternity leave and you’d chosen to leave the Army entirely rather than take a desk job. Sy was special ops and in the middle of another deployment, but you had no idea when that would finish because of the nature of his assignment. Looking up at the moon you wondered where he was, hoping he was coping with the full moon and his monthly transformation. You weren’t ashamed to admit you actually really enjoyed when he was at home for a full moon; he was even more attentive and the sex was mind blowing. Standard sex with Sy left you bow legged and exhausted, but with the added power of the moon… well, it was out of this world and you’d had orgasms so strong you’d actually passed out a couple of times.

The sounds of the occasional truck on the highway a couple of hundred feet away sporadically filled the night, and you thought about that time Sy had driven out to the lake with you and you’d spent the night fucking under the moonlight in the flatbed which he’d covered with blankets and throw pillows. You’d been seven months pregnant but good god it was some of the best sex you’d ever had.

As you shifted to reach a particularly large rose you could feel your panties stick to you, just the thought of Sy was making you wet and ready. You wished you knew when he would be home, taking matters into your own hands wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the real thing from the man you loved.

Just then you heard a pair of owls hooting in the distance, a truck on the highway honking its horn, so you didn’t notice the sound of tyres on the long grassy driveway that ran up the hill to the cabin. Humming to yourself you were running your fingertips over the soft petals of a trailing white rose when the first hint of his scent reached you on the wind. It made you stop and doubt yourself, before it hit again and you felt the heat in the pit of your stomach bloom. Dropping the basket and shears on the grass you ran to the front of the cabin, the breeze catching at your skirts before you finally saw him, standing at the open gate to the garden, his large duffel hanging from his shoulder, the fire in his eyes as he finally saw you.

“Sy!”

He let the bag drop to the floor as you ran into his arms, launching yourself at him, your legs were wrapped around his thick waist as you kissed him. His deep laugh as you peppered his face with soft kisses, the tears of happiness rolling down your cheeks;

“I’m here Darlin’” he practically growled, and that’s when you remembered the moon.

Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, the golden ring of fire matching your own, and as he took long strides across the grass you felt the coupling connection again, just like that first night in the desert.

He set you down on the lawn, laying you softly on the grass as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck. Grasping the front of your dress he let out a growl as he ripped the garment clean in two, humming his appreciation at your swollen breasts where you were still breastfeeding and soft belly, before your soaked panties met the same fate as your dress. His lips continued their path down your body, until he reached the apex of your thighs and inhaled deeply, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight before he dived in and licked a wide stripe through your soaked folds. There under the soft caress of the moon’s rays your lupine husband pulled the first of many orgasms from your body that night, surrounded by the wild calls of nature and the overwhelming scent of the roses.

Sitting at the kitchen table, the morning sunlight streamed in through the windows as you flipped the pancakes on the skillet, smiling as you watched your two boys have breakfast. Michael sat in his high chair, babbling away as Sy seemingly understood every word of gibberish that came from his son’s lips.

Sliding the pancakes onto a plate, you set it down on the table before you felt a strong arm around your waist and Sy pulled you across his lap, his massive hands smoothing over your bare thighs where all you wore were panties and his t-shirt;

“Steady there Darlin, making me want more than just pancakes for breakfast if you’re walkin’ around in just this”

Just then there was a knock at the screen door, all three of you turning to see Edith smiling and waving from the other side;

“Edith! Come in girl, been looking forward to seeing ya!” Sy called out, a huge grin on his face that got even bigger when he spied the basket she was carrying covered in a red and white checkered napkin.

You reluctantly climbed off your husband's lap, excusing yourself to quickly grab your robe as Sy and Edith talked;

“Big Sy, i knew it was your truck that rumbled past my cabin last night”

“Was indeed, home with my girl and my little man” he paused as Edith set the basket onto the table; “Those aren’t….?”

“They sure are” she pulled the napkin up and underneath were her famous peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies.

Sy quickly pulled one from the basket and snapped it in two, handing half to Michael who happily chewed on the freshly baked treat.

“Hmmmnnnn, Edith, i could get used to these”

“You staying this time Sy?”

“I sure am Edith”

“Does she know?”

“Nope, wanna surprise her later”

“Moon’ll be up again tonight, you want me to watch Mikey?”

Just then you walked into the room, catching the last of the conversation;

“Are you sure?”

Edith stood and smiled, rubbing a finger over Michael’s chubby little cheek;

“Absolutely, why don’t I drop by after he’s had his supper?”

Setting Edith up with everything she would need for an evening of watching Jeopardy as your son slept peacefully in his crib, you grabbed the picnic basket and blanket and gave Michael a kiss, before stepping out into the night air. Sy had already taken off, with the moon rising before sundown he got antsy, but he would meet you at the lake. He’d set everything up ready, and just told you to drive his truck down, he’d set off on foot earlier, wanting to burn some energy in the calmness of nature.

The truck's tyres crunched on the gravel as you parked up, the lake a still mirror for the pink purple skyline as the sun set behind the mountains in the distance. But none of those were what you were looking at, no, what drew your attention was your husband quietly sitting on a rock at the shoreline, his boots resting beside him as he let his feet cool in the waters. With your sandals left in the truck you walked across the soft sand before reaching the shoreline, sitting beside him as he wrapped his big arm around your shoulders.

“Sy, what are you thinking about?”

He looked at you, his smile warm as his eyes shone amber in the low light;

“Lots of things Darlin… how lucky i am to have you in my life, how i don’t think i could have coped with what happened if it hadn’t been for you”

“Oh Sy…” your eyes watered; “I love you so much”

“I love you too Darlin. You and Mikey are my world…” he paused, poignantly; “There’s something else i wanna tell ya Darlin…”

For a moment you heart sank, dreading what he was going to say;

“Sy…”

“Ya know how Walt’s construction business is expanding and he needs a new site manager?”

“What?” whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that

“Well, i got a surprise…” he pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on your ass; “I’m done with the Army”

“No! You’d better not be fibbing…” your eyes were full to the brim, nervous tears threatening to spill

“Not fibbing… i’m done. Wanted to keep it a surprise until i knew for sure that the assignment was completed”

Crying happy tears you wrapped your arms around your husbands shoulders, burying your face in his neck as you sobbed joyfully that he wasn’t going away again.

When you had finally settled down and Sy had reassured you for the 10th time that it was definitely true, he was definitely staying home for good, the pair of you stood and started to walk along the shore of the lake barefoot, the warm sand beneath your feet as you clasped your hand around his.

The gentle sound of the water coupled with the feel of your skin touching his calmed Sy, even though the moon was out high above the pair of you, he didn’t feel the need to turn, the sense of utter contentment a balm on his soul. As you had rounded the lake he stumbled on a pebble, and in turn a giggle escaped your lips. Steadying himself he smirked and kicked at the water, splashing you a little as you let out a shriek at the cool water hitting your warm skin. Retaliating you splashed him a little more than you were expecting, soaking one side of his cargo shorts and he paused and looked at you with a feral smile spreading across his lips;

“Oh, now you’re in for it Darlin…”

Your legs carried you as you ran through the surf, knowing Sy would eventually catch you, yet the thrill was in the chase. You could hear his heavy footfalls gaining on you, but you had the advantage of being light on your feet and made a sharp turn into the woodland, the soft grass beneath your feet dry and coarse. You realised he wasn’t behind you and you slowed, turning to try and figure out where he went, when suddenly he emerged from the bushes, his eyes glowing amber in the darkness and he tackled you to the ground, yet somehow managed to turn your bodies so you were on top of him;

“Gotcha!”

He pulled you down so he could kiss you, turning your bodies until he was on top, shifting his knees so he could nestle between your thighs. Your skirt had rucked up in the tussle, and the harsh brush of his shorts against the soft skin of your thighs had your hips bucking up against him, eager for friction as your arousal grew. With the quick fumbling of eager hands you were both soon naked, Sy kneeling between your spread thighs to take in the sight of you, your nipples hard and your arousal a sheen between your legs. Grabbing your hips he pulled you up his thighs, your back arched and your shoulders still on the ground as he thrust into you, spearing your flesh with his own and you both let out a howl of pleasure.

Sy couldn’t tear his gaze away from where your bodies were joined, watching each time he pulled out and saw your juices glistening on his shaft, or how your cunt stretched open as he pushed this fat dick back into you, parting your walls and you cried out in pleasure. He fucked you like the feral beast he was, claiming his mate and catching the tell tale scent that drove him wild;

“Fuck, you’re ripe… gonna breed you and give you another pup. Thought i caught the scent last night but now i know for sure… can’t wait to see your belly round and your tits even fuller…”

He drove into your fertile body, feeling you cum around him yet he pounded through your orgasm knowing your cervix would be wide open now that you had cum and ready to take his seed. You were whimpering in his grasp, desperate for more but overwhelmed at the same time;

“Sy… please… please put a baby in me…”

“Almost… there… Darlin’...” he grunted through thrusts, before his body went rigid and he threw his head back, filling your womb with pump after pump of his thick seed, a broad smile on his face as he even held you in place knowing that gravity would help get every last drop of cum through your cervix and flood your fertile ground.

When he had finally finished coming he carefully settled the two of you onto the soft grass, holding you tight as your bodies were still joined, knowing that he would stay hard for another two or three goes. By the time he would be finished your bodies would be battered and bruised from the intensity of your lovemaking, yet the power of the moon would ensure by morning you would be healed, no outwardly visible signs that the feral carnality of the nights pleasures left behind, even if it meant you’d be sitting down tenderly on a cushion for the following 48 hours.

It was well into the early hours when the pair of you finally limped back to Sy’s truck, resting your head on his shoulder as he carefully drove home, the moon having set early thanks to its cycle.

When you arrived back at the cabin Edith was having a cigarette on the porch, the baby monitor resting on the rail next to her;

“Got it outta your systems?” she grinned as she took one last drag before crushing it in a plant pot of sand that sat at the doorway.

“For tonight” Sy smirked as he carried you bridal style up the steps of the porch; “Can we book ya for tomorrow night too?”

“Sure thing Big Sy, but you’ll owe me”

“I’ll come fix the drainpipe around your porch once the full moon has passed”

“Deal… you’re a good-un” the old woman smiled as she grabbed her keys and slid the baby monitor into your lap as you quietly snoozed in your husbands arms; “It’ll be a girl this time”

Sy’s eyes went wide;

“How do you…?”

“I just know Sweetheart… my husband wasn’t the only one that’d turn ya’know…”

Sy held you as he watched the old woman make her way down the grassy lane to her cabin;

“She’s full o’ surprises is that one…” he looked down at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, before catching the screen door with his booted foot; “Lets get you to bed for some rest… gotta recharge for tomorrow night… maybe make it twins…”

You shifted in his grasp;

“That’s not how it works” you mumbled sleepily, a smile on your face, but the truth was neither of you knew how it worked when you were lupine… really, anything could happen.

#captain sy #captain syverson x reader #syverson x reader #werewolf!sy #captain syverson smut

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 4 years ago

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Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

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Fight Club

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone will say Jason Todd is protective of the people he loves. But sometimes independence is more important than protecting.

Word Count: 4,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: harassment, stalking, general daily discomfort that women have to deal with

Y/N was so fucking tired.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t fallen asleep on the bus home from work.

But anyone with half a brain knew that doing so in Gotham was basically asking to get robbed or worse.

Never fall asleep on public transit. Only buy purses and wallets that zip close. Never leave any personal belongings alone in public. Never use an ATM at night. Only take well-traveled and well-lit routes. Always be aware of your surroundings.

These were the unwritten rules of living in Gotham. It was how you stayed safe, how you stayed alive. But even when one followed them strictly, that didn’t insure that they would always be safe.

Which is why Y/N noticed a middle-aged man staring her down on the bus. He knew what he was doing. He knew that he was making her uncomfortable. He was clearly getting off on it.

Y/N just blasted the music in her headphones and pretended not to notice. But she could feel his leering and it made her stomach twist into knots.

She looked down at her watch: 6PM.

Y/N knew she could call Jason. She knew this.

It would take her all of 30 seconds to explain the situation, Jason would instantly understand and then be waiting at her bus stop for her, ready to escort her home safely and glare at whoever had made her uncomfortable.

But Jason was probably sleeping still.

Last night, he’d returned from patrol needing stitches and had so many bruises scattered across his face that Y/N kept messing up her counting. She was also suspicious that his right hand was broken, but Jason brushed if off so smoothly that she let it slide.

The point was that Y/N had managed to force pain meds on her boyfriend. Jason always slept until late afternoon after patrols anyways, basically becoming nocturnal since he often wouldn’t get back until 5AM.

The meds were meant to make him sleep all day and force him to recover.

The stubborn part of Y/N didn’t want to prevent Jason from getting his much needed recovery and rest.

Except this guy didn’t plan on just staring at her.

When he saw that she was getting off at the stop that was just announced, he too stood up from his seat and moved to the other exit that she wasn’t using.

Y/N was aware of all of this, making sure to track him subtly through the corner of her gaze. It was from the conditioning that all women unfortunately had to go through, whether they realized or not.

Without turning around, she caught his reflection in the window of a building she walked past. He kept a distance to remain unsuspicious, but it was obvious that he was following her.

Y/N tried to subtly walk faster. But she also realized she couldn’t go straight home now. Even with Red Hood being her live-in boyfriend, there was no way she was letting this creep know where she lived.

She started taking a strange route, making weird turns. But it was hard not to lose him without fully running, which she didn’t want to do until it felt absolutely necessary.

But then she came upon a coffeeshop that she knew had a front and back entrance.

She quickly went inside and pretended to get in line for coffee. But when she looked for the man in the corner of her eye, he wasn’t going to come in. Instead, he decided to linger outside and wait for her to come out.

Y/N subtly left the line and made for the back exit.

‘Now it’s time to run,’ she thought to herself.

Y/N was grateful that she had decided to wear stylish sneakers today instead of heels.

By the time she reached the steps of her apartment building, she was breathing heavily. She had been looking over her shoulder every few feet to make sure the creep didn’t get smart.

When she reached her door, she made sure to be quiet in case Jason was still sleeping. Then when she reached the bedroom and quietly opened the door, her mountain of a boyfriend was still passed out in bed with his face pressed into her pillow.

Y/N decided to get started on dinner and quietly moved about the kitchen.

But no matter how much she tried to concentrate on her cooking, her mind kept returning to the man who had tried to follow her home.

What would he have done if he found out where she lived?

Did he plan on grabbing her before she got there?

Did he just get off on making women scared?

Was he planning on raping her? Abducting her? Killing her?

The more Y/N thought about it, the more her fear shifted into rage. Why was it so much more unsafe for women to just merely exist in the world?

But she had no intention of telling Jason.

He would be furious. Not at her, at a man who thought it was OK to even make his girlfriend feel uncomfortable and unsafe – let alone any woman. He would go on a hunt for him and teach him a lesson.

Jason Todd was protective of the people he loved and the innocent – of which Y/N was both. But he also had a bad temper. And whoever was the reason for it starting up better run for their life because Red Hood was not a merciful man and his morals were unpredictable.

So, no. Y/N was not planning on telling her boyfriend, who was also secretly a vigilante with rage issues, about the man who ogled her on public transit and tried to follow her home.

But Y/N was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear said boyfriend finally wake up.

Next thing she knew, someone was slowly wrapping their arms around her waist.

Y/N jumped.

Obviously it was Jason. She knew that. This was not uncommon behavior for him.

But after the day she had and being lost in her thoughts, the feeling of someone’s touch scared the life out of her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason immediately muttered in a whisper at her reaction. “It’s just me.”

Y/N turned around in hopes of easing any worry before he asked any questions.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t hear you wake up.”

But Jason narrowed his gaze at the crazed look in her eyes. He could somehow feel her heart racing as he gripped her torso, and traced lines up and down her rib cage with his thumbs in an attempt to soothe her.

“What happened?” He asked as he brushed some hair out of her face.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I was just in my head and zoning out, so you scared me.”

Jason was basically a human lie detector. So he raised an eyebrow at her attempt.

“Y/N,” he warned.

She sighed and shook her head. “Promise you’ll just listen? That you won’t freak out?”

Now Jason was even more worried. “Y/N, what happened?”

She sighed again, knowing it was pointless to ask him not to freak out when it came to her. Now all she could hope for is that she’d be able to calm him down.

Y/N explained what happened to Jason: the bus, the following, the running to make sure a threatening stranger didn’t follow her home.

She could see Jason’s body getting more and more tense, and his expression angrier and angrier. His hands clenched into fits. His posture straightened with purpose.

“Did he grab you? Did he touch you?” Jason asked as soon as he was sure she was done with her whole story.

“No, but…” her words died out.

“He didn’t have to for you to feel violate,” Jason offered her.

Y/N nodded and hung her head.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jason asked softly.

“I…I don’t know. I wanted to you to rest.” Then Y/N really thought about it. “And despite his intentions being very clear…there was still a voice in my head telling me not to overreact, that there was a small chance I was being paranoid.”

“Y/N, even if you had been wrong, I would’ve rather you felt safe than worry about being wrong. I wouldn’t have been mad at you, or even annoyed.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N.” Jason sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just love you and want you to be safe.”

She nodded into his shoulder.

———

For the next week, Jason was waiting for Y/N every day after work at her bus stop to walk her home. She didn’t ask him to or even suggest it. But Jason knew she was still shaken after the incident. And the last thing he wanted was his girlfriend living in fear.

On the eighth day of him doing this, Y/N finally spoke up.

“Jason, ya know, you can’t do this forever…”

“I know,” he smirked.

“Why are you smiling?”

“How would you feel about me teaching you some self defense?”

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope.”

———

The next weekend, Y/N found herself in the bat cave with her boyfriend, both of them in workout clothes.

“First things first, you have to gain your strength. I can teach you all the moves I want, but you have to make sure your body is in the right condition to defend yourself. And I don’t mean just physically. Confidence is key, beautiful.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the last part, but still smiled.

“Did we have to have an audience?” She asked as she looked over to see that Tim was on the computer, and Dick and Barbara were working out together.

“Ignore them.”

The next couple of hours, Jason taught Y/N all of the basics of self defense. Especially the tips that benefitted women.

Eye strike. Knee to the groin. Heel-palm attack. Elbow hit. How to escape from a bear-hug attack. How to free herself from a choke hold. How to get out of a headlock.

Y/N was covered with sweat. Meanwhile, Jason looked as put together as he had when they started.

“OK,” she finally said with hands on her hips as she tried to catch her breath. “But if someone that’s the same size as me tried to attack me, I don’t have a chance.”

Jason tilted his head to the side. “And who said that?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “J, come on. Look at you! Do you really think I would be able to get away – no matter how hard I tried?”

She looked her boyfriend up and down. He was built like a tank, standing at 6’3 and with an almost inhuman width. Just his thighs seemed bigger than her torso.

While Y/N loved cuddly with her giant teddy bear of a boyfriend, she had mercy for anyone that decided to pick a fight with Jason Todd or Red Hood. They didn’t stand a chance.

“Size isn’t everything,” Jason told her with a wink.

She rolled her eyes again.

“Dick! Barbara! Can you come here for a sec?”

“What’s up?” Dick asked with Barbara by his side.

“Y/N thinks that she’d never be able to take on someone bigger than her,” Jason shared with them.

Barbara didn’t even bother trying to hide her laughter.

Dick smirked. “It’ll take a lot of training, Y/N. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to kick Jason’s ass. Until then, let us know if he’s giving you any trouble and we’ll handle him for you.”

Jason glared at his older brother, but chose not to give his usual sarcastic retorts. He turned his attention back to Y/N instead. “Dicky here is 5’10 and about 175. Meanwhile, Babs is 5’6 and can’t weigh more than 120.”

Barbara crossed her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn that it’s not polite to comment on a woman’s weight?”

Jason gave her an apologetic look but he knew she wasn’t actually offended. “The point is that I’ve seen Barbara hand Dick his ass more times than I can count. Not to mention guys twice her size.”

Then he looked at the couple and gestured to the sparring mat. “Would you be so kind?”

Dick didn’t seem to have any issue with facing off with his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Barbara looked excited.

As the two of them began sparring, Jason lowered his voice down to Y/N and pointed out Barbara’s strategies and moves. Then he would explain how she was manipulating her smaller frame and turning it into an advantage.

Next thing Y/N knew, Barbara had Dick on the floor.

Dick was beaming up at his girlfriend with nothing but pride and awe.

“See?” Jason muttered quietly in Y/N’s ear.

Barbara laughed and held a hand to help Dick up. He jumped back onto his feet and gave his girlfriend a kiss.

“What’s going on?” A voice said at the bottom of the stairs.

They all turned to see Damian had entered the Bat Cave.

“Teaching Y/N some self defense,” Jason shrugged.

Damian sighed. “I do not understand why society does not train women to defend themselves – especially when they are not protected from evil men.”

Y/N laughed. “Not everyone was raised by a league of assassins, Damian.”

But then Damian’s words hit her again in a different way. She spaced out for a moment.

Jason looked at her with concern. “You OK?”

She just nodded.

He wasn’t convinced, but let her be. “I think that’s enough training for today.”

Jason’s brothers convinced him and Y/N to stay for a family movie night.

They used Jason’s old room to shower, since Y/N was covered in sweat by the end of her self defense lesson. Jason gave her some of his old clothes for her to wear that he’d left behind.

When they got to the theatre room, Jason could tell how exhausted Y/N was. She was going to be sore tomorrow – probably for a few days, actually.

She curled into Jason as they grabbed one of the love seats. In moments like these, Jason was always amused how she seemed more like his pet cat than his girlfriend.

Dick and Barbara cuddled together, as well.

Damian brought a book, pretended to already be bored, and acted like he was forced to join family movie night.

Tim brought in his laptop so he could continue to work.

Alfred brought them snacks every so often.

Even Bruce came in halfway through the movie, making his entrance so subtle that they almost didn’t notice.

But lo and behold, not even 15 minutes into the movie, Y/N had passed out.

Jason ended up having to carry her to his car after the movie – not that he minded in the slightest – and drive home as smoothly as possible, so he didn’t wake her.

———

A few days later, Y/N found Jason reading while lounging on the couch in the living room of their shared apartment.

She hopped on beside him, laying across his chest and sliding underneath his book.

Jason chuckled at her antics and put his book down, realizing she wanted his full attention and not just to snuggle while he continued to read.

“So, I was thinking…” Y/N began.

“Mhmm,” Jason hummed.

“I’m not the only woman in Gotham who’s been harassed. You of all people know that – probably better than I do.”

Jason’s amusement disappeared as he listened to where she was going.

“Did you know that in most big cities, there are almost always more women than men?”

“I did not.”

Then she sat up straight, but remained close to him. “But Gotham is the only major American city where there are 20% more men than women.” She waited for him to interrupt, but he just continued to pay close attention. “Researchers believe it’s because of the high crime rate in Gotham, and therefore it’s even more unsafe for women to live here than men.”

“Makes sense,” Jason agreed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“When you started giving me self-defense lessons and then Damian made the comment about no one training women, I kept thinking how other women don’t have a family of vigilantes to keep them safe or teach them how to defend themselves.”

“I’ve seen enough of this city to know that you’re right,” Jason commented darkly.

“Exactly.”

“You still haven’t explained why we’re talking about this…”

“Right,” Y/N smiled embarrassingly. “What if we – I don’t know – started a center for women to learn what you taught me. Completely pro bono. Like a…”

“Fight Club?” Jason offered with a smirk.

“Well, not exactly. But kinda,” Y/N giggled.

Then she frowned as her mind was still working all of it out. “I just don’t know who could teach it. You and your family are already too busy. Teaching women how to defend themselves is a little beneath you…”

“First of all, it’s not beneath us. But you’re right: Dick barely has a second to spend with Babs. Tim is so sleep deprived that he’s just gonna collapse one day. It also wouldn’t be smart for our cover and show that all the Wayne kids can hold themselves in a fight. People might start putting things together...”

“Right,” Y/N agreed and looked further disappointed.

“Hey,” Jason said with an encouraging smile and lifted her chin to look at him. “It’s a good idea. And between my brothers and me, we know plenty of retired heroes that would be more than willing to help out.”

Y/N’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Dinah, Roy, Wally and Artemis. Hell, I bet if Bruce mentioned it to Diana, she’d smuggle in some Amazons to really show ‘em.”

Y/N smiled at the idea.

“You should tell Bruce,” Jason added.

“Bruce?”

“He has a habit of blindly writing checks for a good cause. I bet he’d just straight up buy you a warehouse to hold classes in.”

She frowned. “I don’t – won’t he feel like I’m taking advantage of him?”

Jason laughed. “I know he’s shit at showing it, but Bruce likes you. And I think he’d be more than happy to help.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over. “Bruce Wayne likes me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head…”

“So, you think this is a good idea?”

Jason couldn’t help himself when she looked this adorable and excited. He grabbed her torso and flipped them so her back was on the couch and he was now hovering above her.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he told her softly before kissing her.

But before Y/N could push the intimacy any further, Jason pulled away from her lips.

“I have to tell you something,” his voice suddenly went serious.

Y/N’s smile dropped. “What? What is it?”

“I know you didn’t want me to…”

Then she sat up, lightly pushing Jason off of her. “Christ, Jason. What did you do?”

He took in a quick breath. “I found him.”

“Found who?”

“The guy who followed you.”

“Fuck,” Y/N put her hands over her face. “Jason. God. What the fuck.” “I know! I know. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Y/N rubbed her face and looked at him. “Please, please tell you didn’t kill him.”

Jason had the audacity to roll his eyes. “I didn’t kill him, OK? Happy?”

“No, I’m not happy! You went after him when I explicitly asked you not to!”

“Did you forget that the guy you’re dating is also a vigilante? In what world did you expect me to not look him up?” He shook his head in wonder. “I mean, the idiot’s face was all over the public transit database I hacked when I looked up the footage from the cameras on your bus – not to mention the footage from half the storefronts you walked by.”

Y/N only glared at him.

“Don’t be mad,” he requested.

“Well, I am.”

Jason sighed. Then he scooted closer, hoping she’d allow it. “Look, I get what’s going on. And I get why you want to help all these women.”

She eyed him, but let him continue.

“I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t protect yourself.” He cleared his throat, catching himself. “I know it’s not the same as what women have to deal with on a daily basis. I’ll never really know what that’s like.”

Jason kept all the terrible things he’d seen on patrol to himself. But there were things he knew would terrify and traumatize her. Because of this, Jason wasn’t as oblivious to the suffering of women as the majority of men were. Or maybe he just chose to actually acknowledge it and care.

He took in a deep breath. “But I just hated the idea of someone doing that to you. And I know there’s probably a million times its happened and you haven’t told me, or you didn’t even notice because you’ve gotten so used to it. I just…I couldn’t let him get away with it.”

Jason paused to let her process his excuse. He’d be the first to admit it wasn’t a good one.

But Jason Todd was fiercely protective of the people he loved. And Red Hood’s sole purpose was to protect the those who couldn’t protect themselves – no matter the cost.

So when his girlfriend was troubled enough to lose sleep or zoned out constantly to rehash what happened, he was going to do something about it.

Jason was fully aware of his anger issues. But he also learned how to redirect them to be something a bit more productive.

“So…what did you do to him?” Y/N asked nervously.

He gave her a look, silently asking her if she really wanted to know.

“Jason…” she warned him.

“He had a record, OK? Let’s just say you weren’t the first woman he’s done that to. And a lot of them weren’t as lucky as you. So he got what he fucking deserved.”

“And what is that?” She pushed, refusing to let him gloss over it so easily.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I roughed him up a bit, alright? Told him I’d be watching. Scared the shit out of him enough that, hopefully, he won’t ever pull that shit again.”

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head at him.

Jason would take her amusement over her anger any day, even if she was teasing him.

“What?” He asked through a grin.

She bopped his nose. “So protective over me.”

Jason had enough of the distance between them.

He moved her body so she had no choice but to sit on his lap. “‘Course I am.”

Then he kissed her. But when he pulled away, his face was rather thoughtful.

“You’re not going to feel helpless forever, ya know.”

They were words to comfort her. Because deep down Jason knew that promising to always be there for her wasn’t going to make her feel better. She wanted him as her boyfriend, not her bodyguard – despite Jason being more than happy to be both for her.

“I know,” Y/N confirmed with a shy smile.

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

Whatcha think?

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman family #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #jason todd fic #dc #tim drake #red hood fic

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

A Summer Secret Part 1 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Part 1 of my mini-series 'A Summer Secret' want to be tagged? Let me know!

Part 2

Requested/About: After bursting a water pipe and flooding his house, Fred needs a place to stay - whilst the family is on a vacation he temporarily stays at George's house. Y/N tries to get out of an arranged marriage her parents have planned with the Malfoy Family. Failing to do so, she flees to George's house - the father of her best friends who promised she could stay there to escape. Fred and Y/N meet unexpectedly, and something sparks between them - something that Fred vows to be nothing more than a summer fling, a summer secret... but is it?

Warnings: Age gap relationship (y/n is 18), swearing, mention of arranged marriage, mention of food and eating.

Staring out of the train window, bidding farewell to the mountains, the river, and to Hogwarts, you felt tears prick at your eyes. You weren't ready to go home for summer, you never did - you were always at the Twin's house, living under George and Angelina's roof to escape the arguments your parents caused when you said no to them controlling every aspect of your life.

Unfortunately, Gideon and Fabian were going away for the summer with their parents to visit Charlie and you were unable to join them, you understood and was fine with it, but you were absolutely terrified to step foot into your home, with your parents trying to force you into a marriage you didn't want.

"Cheer up, Y/N." Fabian frowned "I hate seeing you upset."

You broke your stare from the scenery and looked over at your best friends, taking some puking pastilles from their bags.

"Just in case" you muttered, "If they're sick they'll leave me alone."

Fabian smirked and shook his head, tutting "Did they say anything else in the letter?"

You shook your head back "No, they just told me I didn't have a choice. I've graduated, I'm eighteen yet I can't decide what I want for myself."

"I can't imagine getting married at this age to someone I've probably never met."

You stared at Fabian, a little sore and taken aback by his sudden burn.

"Thanks, Fabian, I can't either." You squirmed in your seat and pulled out some jelly snakes from the bag of sweets you were sharing, biting and pulling at the tail, stretching the snake, bursts of green apple and lime flooded your mouth.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he apologised starting to panic.

You shrugged it off and tried to stay calm, throwing him a jelly snake"It's okay."

Gideon rummaged through his large bag and pulled out a large bronze key, handing it to you. "If things get really bad, stay at our house anyway."

You smiled slightly and took the key from him, examining it before stuffing it in your pocket "Thanks, lads."

Fabian nodded his head, flicking through job applications he had filled out before sighing and plonking them back in his bag. "Thank Merlin we've got dads shop"

"Tell me about it" Gideon replied "Uncle Fred will be chuffed when we roll up begging for a job."

The two of them laughed, waiting for you to join in, but you were too busy staring out of the window getting lost in what could unfold in a few hours time.

Dear Y/N,

We are so proud of you for working so hard, we are very eager to find out your N.E.W.T results in the next few months to come.

Your mother and I have been looking for jobs you can apply to once you're home, if you've got the grades, working for The Ministry seems rather promising. Your friend's uncle worked as an Auror for a little while, the one who now picks up spare shifts at that joke shop every now and then.

Anyway, we have got some news we need to share it with, unfortunately, we are unable to tell you in person as the wait is too long, but I don't doubt our owl is rather fast at delivering letters; a lot faster than yours it seems.

We have decided that you will be getting an arranged marriage, your status needs to be high if you want to go for and do well in life, you will marry into a very successful family, one that will open doors for you which your N.E.W.Ts cannot.

If you have anything going on with anyone right now, you need to end it before you arrive home. This matter is not up for discussion, neither is the family we have chosen for you.

Arrive home on time, well dressed, and we will go through the meeting. Don't you dare show us up in front of them, you will regret it.

Please write back, I'm not sending another owl to check on you and you are old enough to realise that Howlers are for kids.

Grow up and act like an adult.

See you soon.

Safe Travels,

- Y/D/N

Grumbling down the path to your house, your stomach started to do flips as you inched closer and closer to the front door. Seeing yourself in the reflection of the glass diamond shape in the middle of the door, you quickly fixed your hair that got ruffled in the wind, unrolling your skirt and straightening out the creases in your blouse.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and pushed the front door open, carrying your trunk inside, your owl flying inside eagerly for scraps of food. Your heart thumped in your chest and you could hear each thump in your ears.

"Mum!" you called out "Dad!"

"We're in the living room, Y/N," Y/D/N replied.

Setting down your trunk beside the stairs in case you needed to make a quick escape, you walked into the living room, staring at your shoes, afraid your parents had already pulled out a wedding dress and pamphlets of various venues waiting to be hired.

"How lovely to see you," your mother smiled, getting out of her seat to pull you into a hug before your dad cleared his throat.

Yeah, go on, scare her away from me like you always do.

Your mum quickly sat back down beside your father who didn't hug you or welcome you home. Instead, he pulled two moving photographs from the pocket in his waistcoat, setting them face down on the table in front of you.

This must be the family he's chosen for me.

"Well dressed like I asked, thank you." He smiled "You'll be happy to know that the family we have picked out for you are rather eager to... get the ball rolling. They've been kind enough to offer to cover the costs of the wedding, and helping you move into their home once you have married their son."

A wedding... I won't get to choose...

Moving into their home... where I cannot escape...

Fred cursed under his breath standing in his kitchen, the bottom of his trousers heavy and drenched because of the water rising up to his ankles. He dragged himself around the kitchen, searching for some parchment and a quill, but with no luck, he grabbed the muggle telephone, trying to remember how to ring his brother.

"Hello, George Weasley speaking-"

"Alright, Mr Fancy arse" Fred replied, swearing as his shoes started to squelch with each step "Look, I need some help."

Angelina could be heard in the background, telling George to meet her at the airport after she lands with the boys.

"What's up, Freddie?"

Fred sighed "I'm up to my ankles in water, a bloody pipe burst and these muggles take ages to get here. The whole house will be flooded by the time you get here, can I crash at your place? I don't want to bother mum, she's got enough going on with Ron and Hermione's newborn."

George smirked through the phone, amused at his brother's bad luck with something as simple as a water pipe, magic not being able to fix it after a prank going wrong with Fred's wand.

"Of course, me, Angelina, and the boys will be gone for a few weeks though, there's enough food and that - all I ask is that you look after the owls for us."

Fred walked up the steps, his lower legs now getting wet "Thank you, George, I owe you one!"

"It's okay Freddie, just don't get up to any trouble."

"I won't. Say hi to Charlie for me!"

If Gideon and Fabian knew Uncle Fred was staying at the house too, they would have texted you, sent an owl if they didn't have any signal, but they didn't know - and their father didn't think to tell them.

If Fred knew a younger girl would be staying in the house, he would have rented a room somewhere else, hell, he would've stayed in the office above the shop, but he didn't know.

And you of all people would've forced yourself to stay under your parent's roof for a little longer, or jump on a plane and bump into Gideon and Fabian just by chance, but they didn't tell you.

Fred always felt amazed when he was in George's house - it was large and cosy, a proper family home, a master bedroom with an ensuite, two guestrooms where you had slept during previous summer - where the twins often slept instead of their own room from time to time, and a large bathroom that could fit in the whole Weasley family.

You swallowed hard, shifting in the stiff chair, you shook your head, your voice wobbly as you tried to speak.

"Dad, I appreciate all of this, I really do - but I'm an adult, it isn't your choice or right to make decisions for me, I don't want to get married, I don't want to live with another-"

You wanted to continue, but Y/D/N glared at you, he spoke through gritted teeth, flipping over the photographs of the family trying to buy you for their son.

"How dare you disrespect me. After everything I have done for you, for this family, you are not an adult, you still act like a child!"

"I'm eighteen!" you snapped, feeling brave, finding your voice.

"You are still living under my roof! You will do as I say!"

Your mother did nothing but stare into the fireplace, perhaps deep in thought or imagining you in a white lace dress, walking down the aisle with a face smile plastered on your face.

"No, I will not!"

"You will!" your dad bellowed, rising out of his chair "because they are coming to meet you in an hour and you better comply, girl!"

Tears pricked at your eyes, your chest tightened and the familiar lump formed in your throat. Staring down at the picture made you sick to your stomach, you recognised the young lad in the photograph, for he was no other than Scorpius Malfoy.

"The Malfoys!" you also stood up "I will never, ever marry into that family! Not after what they did!"

Y/D/N grunted "What are you going to do? Marry a Weasley? Work in a joke shop and be a laughing stock for a living?"

You stormed out of the living room, grabbing your trunk, your mother continued to stare into the flames, blocking out everything around her, smiling about what could have been.

Your dad followed you, grabbing the other handle on your trunk, pulling you to him.

"You aren't going anywhere!"

"I'm going anywhere but here!" you snarled back, your trunk opened and your clothes dropped onto the floor, letting go, you stormed up the stairs and sprinted to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Frantically, you pulled out your phone, messaging the twins.

Y/N: They want me to marry into the Malfoy family! I can't fucking do it.

Fabian: Wait. Scorpius?

Gideon: You've got to be joking.

Y/N: No! I'm not! His family are coming to meet me in the next hour, what the fuck am I going to do?

Gideon: Puking Pastilles?

Y/N: No, I'm not risking leaving this bedroom if I'm not going outside.

Fabian: You've got our house key, use it genius.

Y/N: I will tonight, I just need to fake this shit, hopefully, I won't be married by morning, I'll run away to yours in the night.

Gideon: Be careful.

Fabian: Don't do anything we wouldn't do.

Y/N: Why do you think I'm running away? The Malfoys are the worst match!

Fred got used to being alone in the house after a week, blasting loud music, dancing like no one was watching, walking around in nothing but his boxers as the summer heat became unbearable. He felt on top of the world, he was alone, enjoying himself, in a huge house all to himself.

Managing to escape through the night as you had planned, you were taken by surprise when you arrived at George's manor to find the lights on and music blaring through the walls.

Maybe the twins came home early to surprise me.

Knocking on the door was pointless, even if you yelled the music was too loud to compete with. Pulling out your key, you unlocked the door and walked inside, setting your bags down on the table on the porch, hanging your coat up on the peg. Following the music you stopped in your tracks, in front of you was Fred, dancing in his boxers, sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, playing the air guitar. Your cheeks started to go red. If this was a prank, it was definitely well thought out - but deep down, you knew that Fabian and Gideon hadn't come home.

You had met Fred before, you always visited the joke shop with your friends and he had been at George's many times over Christmas, and Summer when he wasn't working. Each time you had seen him, he had always been on his own, no girlfriend, no ring on his finger.

Fred spins around with his eyes closed and opens them as he faces you, he jumps out of his skin and instantly covers his private parts with his hands as his eyes met yours, you grabbed the remote and rapidly paused the blaring music.

"W-What are you doing here?!" he asked, breathless and red.

You picked up one of his T-Shirts and threw it at him, leaning against the table, staring at your shoes as he got dressed "I could ask you the same thing." you replied shyly.

taglist: @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @reeophidian @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx @onlyfreds @lucymfer @livvysnaps @supermassiveblackhope @youralternantpersonality @xgoodbyexinnocencex @gustepasilyte

#Fred and George #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction

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starlightrows · 4 years ago

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3 — The Pariah

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Non graphic violence, fire, hypothermia

Summary: Tempers rage in your small town, you are blamed for the less than savory change in patronage

Eventually the storm blew itself out, and your steady flow of patrons returned to eat, drink, stay the night, and move on. As autumn turned to winter, the storms and rain became more frequent, and began getting colder. Frost settled over the ground each night and melted by mid day.

A few weeks after Boba Fett had left your inn, on a chilly morning, you noticed a shift in the townspeople’s attitude towards you. Instead of quiet resentment or unspoken distaste, now they glared at you in the market. You were just trying to pick up some things you needed. More flour, a replacement pitcher for the one you knocked off the bar and broke, soap, and sewing needles. Many of the vendors would not speak to you, one of them wouldn’t even let you look at her wares. Confused and offended you tried to ask what you had done to have service refused, she met your gaze

“Your business is turning our town into a trading post for criminals and mercenaries” she spits “you can buy your soap somewhere else”

“I don’t choose who comes through this town” you point out

“Doesn’t matter, you let them stay” she snaps the box of cut soaps shut and gives you a look, trying to intimidate you into leaving

When you turn around, many of the other vendors at the market, and citizens of your town have gathered around the soap stall. Their voices rise up from their whispers to angry shouts and accusations.

People begin blaming you for their loss of profit, their stolen property… then the accusations get more and more fanatical. The storm that knocked over a large tree and damaged someone’s speeder, another man’s daughter running away to the next town for a boy, the town children’s new interest in playing “bounty hunters and thieves”.

You back away, try to leave the market and get back to the inn. But the crowd follows you, calling out horrible names and slurs. You pick up the pace and try to block them out, but the faster you go— the faster they get.

You’re running now, running to get away from the mob that seems to be growing with each house or business you pass. You’re almost there, if you can just get to the door. The head of the mob catches you by the fabric of your shirt and yanks you back. To your horror, the rest of the mob surges forward and breaks down your door.

Several men shove you and kick you to the ground every time you try to get up. You beg them to stop, to let you go, to make the rest of the townspeople stop what they’re doing.

You can hear them inside. Smashing your glasses, using rocks to shatter the windows, flipping the tables, ransacking the kitchen, probably stealing your money and your food.

Then there’s smoke rising from the back window. Someone must have knocked coals out of the hearth. People come pouring out of the inn, disappearing back into the town and surrounding woods carrying armfuls of your stuff and coughing as black smoke billows out of your home.

The men who had been keeping you down scattered off with the rest of the crowd. You got up on your knees as the flames overtook the inn… your business… your home… burning before your eyes, and you were powerless to stop it.

The sky darkens as ugly grey clouds mask the sun. You drag yourself away to the edge of the forest just in time for the rain to begin falling. Luckily the rainfall helps to beat back the red hot tongues of fire that have engulfed your home.

You sit for hours, half waiting for the mob to return and continue beating you with sticks. But there is only you, the rain, the ruins of your inn and the smoke that begins to rise into the sky. Rain comes and goes, and the sun begins to set behind mountains. The fire seems to have gone out. You know it’s dangerous to try to poke around in the wreckage, but you have no choice.

You haul yourself up, shivering on unsteady legs and step over what used to be the front wall. Blackened wood, melted and misshapen silverware, the hearth and chimney still stand. The entire upstairs has collapsed. It’s jarring to see burnt bed frames with charred mattresses covered in ash. There’s nothing left. What little you had that actually belonged to you was gone or burned beyond saving.

Night is falling and you’ll freeze if you don’t figure out some way to get warm or have shelter. You’ll figure out what to do tomorrow if you live to see the dawn. You continue to pick through the rubble until you find something you might be able to use. The wash basin you kept in the back and used to bathe and do your laundry. It’s made of metal and miraculously intact.

Dragging it away is more effort than you expected, it’s always been an awkward item to move around. But nevertheless you drag it away from the wreckage, just inside the treeline. Using two sturdy y-frame tree branches you prop it up against the wind, and set about making a small fire to stay warm.

Thank the Maker, it didn't rain again that night. And the fire reflected back against the bottom of the tub and kept you warm all night. At first light you’re up, putting out your campfire and picking through the rubble again to find anything that could be useful. You don’t find much… just an old hunting knife your father had left to you and an iron cup.

You decide your best course of action is to walk the 45 miles to the next settlement and either seek justice for what’s happened to you… or disappear and not make any trouble. The trek to get there will take three or four days, and that’s if you make good time. Might as well get a head start.

————

Word traveled quickly about what had happened. Many mercenaries, bounty hunters and their quarries alike arrive in town to stay at the inn and find that it’s been burned to the ground and the innkeeper has been driven out of town.

The desired effect of reducing criminal activity and foot traffic through the area does occur. But not before they’ve pillaged, vandalized and reaped havoc upon the entire settlement.

The one person in the criminal underworld who seems to miss out on this information is Boba Fett. He returns to your settlement to find the entire town struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives. Your inn is nothing more than a scorch mark on the ground it once sat on with a blackened brick hearth in the center.

His heart aches and his mind turns to dark thoughts of what could have happened to you, and who was responsible for it. He storms back into the settlement, and finds the nearest groveling peasant. It just so happens it was one of the men that kicked you down while your home burned.

“What happened here?” Boba demands. The man cowers from him and doesn’t answer. “I asked you a question. What happened?”

“It was the innkeeper” the man says hastily “She let all the criminals and mercenaries in the galaxy stay under her roof… and they ransacked the town”

He doesn’t buy it… something here doesn’t add up “I don’t believe you” growled pointing a blaster at the man “Either convince me, or tell me the truth”

“No no it’s true I swear! We drove her out of town hoping the crime in our settlement would stop”

Boba nods and lowers his blaster “Thank you”

The man looks relieved for a brief moment before he sees Boba raising his blaster again. Boba dispatches him quickly without so much as a word.

We drove her out of town, the man had said. He had no remorse for what happened. No concern for you, your livelihood they had uprooted. Boba was disgusted by it.

Boba returned to the ruins of your home and began to search for any signs of you, and where you might have gone. It doesn’t take him long to find the remnants of your smaller camp fire and the metal tub you used for shelter. A good sign that you were thinking on your feet and likely survived the fire.

He thought about you, put himself in your shoes and went through what must have been going through your mind. Where to go? What to do? Obviously remaining here would not be an option. So what’s the next step? Finding somewhere safer to go.

He knows of two other settlements in this region of your planet. One is 45 miles northeast and the other 62 miles southwest. Both are long trips to take on foot with no supplies. But if you were thinking strategically you would have chosen the 45 mile hike. There’s water sources in that direction and it’s a shorter distance. So that’s the direction he takes off.

————

It’s been three days and you’re not making good time as you hoped you would. No food and cold weather makes your movements slow. You’ve been drinking water but you can only trick your stomach for so long. Plus you’re traveling in the forest just within eye sight of the road because you don’t want to be seen by other travelers. The last thing you need is another angry mob.

Your head hurts and your stomach is bloated from drinking so much water, but you’re so hungry and exhausted from walking. You sit beside a tree near the stream you’ve been following up higher into the mountains.

You wonder what the new settlement will be like. You wonder what you will do there given that you have no money and nothing to trade. You wonder if they would help you take your money and land back if you explained what happened to you. Or would they too cast you out and leave you to fend for yourself. Winter is well on its way. If they don’t help you, you’ll be dead in a matter of weeks. If not from hunger, then exposure to the cold.

These are dark and scary thoughts. Normally you would push such thoughts away and busy yourself with work, but that’s not an option now. You have nothing but time, and your mind races with all the things you’ve lost.

You’ll never get married or have children. You’ll never get to expand your garden. You’ll never start the projects you’ve always dreamed of doing. Making your own clothes. Learning to paint. Writing stories. None of it. All your hopes and dreams will fade with you into the icy cold winds that will take you.

You have to try your inner voice urges you, you have to try to make it

That thought propels you forward. You force yourself to get up and keep walking towards the next settlement. You have to pause every 50 yards or so to rest against a tree, but you don’t let yourself sit back down. You have to keep going.

Meanwhile Boba takes a speeder and begins tracking you. He can tell you’re slowing down. Good because he’ll catch you soon, but bad because that definitely means you’re getting weaker. Suddenly he can see you on the tracking system in his helmet. He can see how slowly you’re moving. He gets off the speeder and goes on foot to catch up with you.

Switching off the tracking system he follows you from a distance for a moment or two. He calls out your name as gently as he can. You whip around and stumble sideways clinging to a tree to hold you up right. There is fear in your eyes. Usually when he’s hunting a bounty that is a mark of satisfaction for him, to strike fear and command respect. But you are not a bounty. He calls out your name again and removes his helmet and hopes you’ll recognize him.

He’s too far away and your vision is too blurry. In your sleep and food deprived mind he’s one of the people that burned down your inn and beat you on the ground. But you’ve poured all of your remaining energy into pushing forward, and have nothing left to put up a fight. You lean against your tree and stare blankly at the figure that you’ve decided is definitely here to kill you.

Boba approaches you slowly with his hands raised to show you he’s not going to hurt you. His face becomes more and more clear to you as he gets closer. You search your mind for the name that goes with his face you recognize. It’s not until he’s right in front of you, catching you by the arms as your knees buckle under you, that you find the name you’re searching for.

“Boba?” Your voice is small and weak, you barely recognize it “You came back?”

He takes you into his arms and pats your back “Of course I came back”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady

#Boba Fett #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #Boba Fett x reader #The Queen of Tatooine #QT

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johaerys-writes · 3 years ago

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Fandom: Castlevania

Pairings: Trevor/Sypha/Alucard, Hector/Lenore

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 14: In Darkness, Hope is up! Where Hector starts to see his relationship with Lenore under a different light.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The library of the castle of Styria is among the largest Hector has ever seen.

Well, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he hasn’t really seen that many. Dracula’s was large and largely up-to-date, despite the multitudes of dusty volumes that were probably many centuries old. Even though Dracula himself had never really barred him or Isaac from any part of the castle, Hector always felt uneasy walking about too freely. How does one feel at ease, at the home of one of the oldest, most legendary vampires in existence?

Frolicking through its labyrinthine corridors had been out of the question, at least for him. One never knew what they might encounter once they took the wrong turn, and at the time there were many dangerous beasts roaming the dark halls. Carmilla and Godbrand, to name two of them, and the way Cho’s eyes glazed over when she saw him, as if she couldn’t wait to sink her fangs in his neck, didn’t help matters much.

Before that, it was the library in the castle of Rhodes, the island where he grew up. He’d visited the castle briefly, once or twice, on the rare occasions his services had been needed, but he never lingered for too long. The miasma of his magic and his own presence had made sure he was never welcome anywhere for long.

So, the library here is the best thing he’s ever seen, really. The ring on his fingers is a curse, and one he begrudges daily, but he has to admit to himself that without it, he’d never have been allowed free access to its thousands of books and manuscripts, even if he begged, kneeling in the snow for days.

It was a strange thing, his occupation. Hector hadn’t chosen it, not exactly. It was more like his magic chose him: not all people were gifted in the necromantic arts, and even those who were, couldn’t wield it with the ease Hector has been able to ever since he can remember himself. His magic, the ability to create life from death, has been a blessing and a curse for him. It has opened some doors, and closed many others, has brought him close to ruin several times. But even so, deep down, he doesn’t know if he would give it up, if given the choice.

Hector is among the best at what he does, and he isn’t being conceited about it. Sometimes, it felt as if it was the only thing he really could do. The only thing he wanted to do. But now… now, after everything he’s gone through, he knows there is more to life than this. There must be.

He gazes out of the large window, the rolling hills covered in snow beyond the castle walls. The horizon seems endless, even with the forested mountain peaks that loom in the distance.

Yes. He’d like to see more of the world. Maybe, one day.

Hope. Such a frail thing, but so resilient. Even in the darkest of times, no matter how hard he’s tried to smother it, it always rears its head once more, like a sapling pushing its way through layers of winter frost.

You’re interesting, Lenore told him once. Beaten down a dozen different ways, and you don’t give up on yourself. It’s… nice.

Odd, that she noticed that about him, before she even knew him. Before he even knew it himself.

His mind drifts to their kiss before he can stop it. It's been days since then, but it's as if he can see it all, feel it on his skin. The stars reflecting in her blood-red eyes as she leans closer, her lips soft against his own. Her words, embedded in his heart like a fiery brand.

I still care about you, Hector. I never stopped.

His pulse skips at the memory, but he brushes it aside. Lies. Pretty words to draw him back to her again, to lull him into a false sense of safety. She doesn’t care about him, she never did. All she ever wanted was to trick him, to use him, to enslave him, and she has, she has, she has.

In truth, he doesn’t know what to make of her advances now. She knows he’s under her thumb— under all of their thumbs. There’s nothing else to prove now; she’s won, and Hector has lost. His independence, his freedom, his life. She doesn’t really have much to gain from him anymore, so why come back to him? Why be nice to him? Why… why say that she cares about him?

He settles back against the velvet armchair by the window, the sunlight warming the side of his face. Even if he tried, he doubts he’d be able to figure her out. Perhaps she’s only back to finish the job, or to remind him who he owes his life to. Vampires like to play with their food. Perhaps that’s all it is.

The thought sends a ripple of unease through him, like a pebble along the surface of a lake. He can feel its reverberations even as his attention returns to the book in his lap, as his gaze gets lost in the diagrams and the equations and the illustrations of severed limbs and other appendages on the page before him. He tries his best to ignore it.

It is hours later —or minutes, he’s never been good at keeping time when a book consumes his attention— that he hears the characteristic click of dainty heels on the smooth marble floor.

“Morning.”

Hector glances up. Night has fallen beyond the window, gentle and sweet and indigo-coloured, and Lenore looks part of it. Her gloved hands are clasped demurely before her, and the light of the moon falls upon her porcelain skin.

“Evening,” Hector replies. He stretches his arms high above him, tilts his head this way and that until the joints crack. “Didn’t realise it was time already.”

“Oh, yes. Carmilla is expecting us, and you know how patient she is.” She takes a step closer, emboldened by his relaxed mood. “I think the servants are starting to get scared of her.”

“You don’t say.” Hector lets the book he was reading fall closed. It is old and dusty, the leather scuffed at the corners. It must have travelled a long way, from the far reaches of the world, to make it here, in his hands. He takes a deep breath of the yellowed pages, of its worn cover. It smells of spices, of grain, of the sun beating down upon vast expanses of sand. It reminds him of Isaac, a little.

He often wonders how his fellow Forgemaster is doing, if he’s still alive. If he was in the castle during the battle at Braila, then he has probably perished. The thought isn’t a pleasant one. Hector never had anything against Isaac; he’d even started to like him, right before the end, despite his cool and detached demeanour, the distance he kept, his odd way of talking down to him occasionally, as if he were a little boy. He brings his face to mind for a moment: the high forehead, the full lips, the ink dots above his eyes that rained down upon his cheekbone. Hector wonders how Isaac is doing, if he’s alright.

If he is, then he surely holds no love for Hector.

If Isaac’s still alive, then he’ll surely come for all of them one day, for betraying his beloved Dracula. It’s a grim thought, but even the darkest of outcomes have a bright side. If Isaac raises an army of night creatures and comes for them, all hellfire and vengeance, Carmilla will be the first to fall.

A bitter smile comes unbidden to his lips. Oh, Hector wouldn’t survive such an attack, of that he is certain. But if the fire comes for him, he would only ask it to burn Carmilla first.

“She’s been shut up in her study for most of this week, poring over her maps,” Lenore says as he stands up and picks up the armful of books he amassed beside him. “Maps that she bullied the map maker into making for her in one third of the time that’s usually required. I believe the ink is still drying on some of them.”

“What does she want with the maps?”

Lenore sighs and follows him past the neat rows of tables, where apprentices are already starting to gather. “It helps her come up with ideas, she says. Plans of attack.”

“That sounds ominous,” Hector murmurs.

“Yes, well, that’s what Carmilla does. Leave her alone for five minutes, and she’ll start coming up with strategies to take over the world. And with Morana and Striga away from the castle for weeks to survey the territories to be annexed…” She shakes her head. “I have too much work to do right now to indulge her. I’ve taken on a big part of Morana’s workload alongside mine. But even if I did have time, talking with her is… intense. At times.”

Hector glances at her from the corner of his eye. She seems tired and a bit drained, even though it’s only the start of the day for her. There is a worried frown creasing her brow, and her peach-coloured lips are pursed in thought.

“Morana and Striga have been much better at dealing with her lately,” she says quietly. “Better than me.”

“Why is that?”

The light of the lamps flickers over her face as they walk underneath them. Her eyes are hidden in shadow momentarily, but it isn’t hard for Hector to detect the sharpness there. “You know how Carmilla is,” she says. “She just can’t take no for an answer. And with her temper being what it is, she doesn’t always want to listen to me. I think the battle at Braila, and the march here, have left her a little… jumpy. She keeps seeing threats everywhere.”

“Right.” Hector tries hard not to roll his eyes as he turns a corner, stepping into the shadows between the bookcases. He can’t think of many things that could get under Carmilla’s skin. The idea of her having such sensibilities is ridiculous to him. Do monsters have feelings? He could laugh.

“Anyway,” Lenore sighs, “what matters right now is that you think of something to tell her, some sort of excuse for yourself.” At Hector’s confused stare, she huffs. “About your hammer. She’s getting very cross, you know.”

“Oh, dear,” Hector says flatly, walking to the far end of the corridor. “How sad. Never mind.”

“I mean it, Hector,” Lenore presses. “You’ve been working on it for weeks, and still nothing. Carmilla is getting impatient. You’re not taking this very seriously.”

“I’ve told you before, Lenore. The hammer takes time. I can’t just snap my fingers and 'magic' one into existence. It has to be perfect.”

She glances up at him with a little moue and a quirk of her brow, unimpressed. “Your perfect hammer.”

“Exactly.” He reaches up to the highest shelf to slide the book he’d borrowed into place. “Carmilla will just have to wait for a little while longer while I work on it. I think she’ll live.”

“Well, make it work faster. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand in front of you.”

Hector pauses in the act of placing another book on the shelf, the tome hovering in the air. “You’d… stand in front of me?”

Lenore’s gaze softens. The amber light of a distant lamp glitters in her eyes, warms up her complexion. “You silly boy,” she says, reaching up to caress his chin with a gloved finger. “I’ve been doing it for weeks.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

#castlevania #netflix castlevania #trephacard #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard #trevor/sypha/alucard #lenector #hector #lenore #where blood roses bloom #johaerys writes

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mellow-em · 4 years ago

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Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 1

[special dt @bluewingedangel <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

The murky layers of clouds that filled the grey afternoon sky, mutated into the clear blend of colors of the evening sunset.

I rolled the windows down over an hour ago, to let in the crisp breeze of the night to keep myself awake. It really was the longest drive of my entire life. Though, even if it had been drawn out to extremes thanks to the traffic on the highways, it was relaxing nonetheless.

I spin the steering wheel slightly, finally turning into my neighborhood. I let out an exasperated yawn, feeling my whole body yearning to be in my comfy bed again. I was tremendously exhausted.

I looked around at the strips of houses lining both sides of the road; because it had been around 7pm, lights remained visible within the windows, and families were most likely eating dinner.

Our neighborhood was known for being tranquill, that is, when you first enter anyway. The farther down you drive, the more lively it gets. My parents and I happened to live right towards the end of the street, where everybody knew everyone.

From when I was little all the way into highschool, we’d have block parties, barbecues, and random get togethers every chance we could get. Those would last for hours, leading into the am sometimes. It was chaotic most of the time, but I enjoyed it.

Not even a moment later I find myself in front of my house, pulling into the driveway with one swift turn in. I couldn’t even put the car in park before I heard an uproar by the front door, causing me to stifle a laugh and shake my head.

It’s definitely gonna be a long night.

I roll all of the windows up before shutting the car off, stashing my keys away into the side pocket of my shorts. While pushing the door open with my feet, I look up to see both of my parents awaiting to engulf me into a hug.

A warm smile rises on my face as I hug them back.

“We’ve missed you honey,” my mom softly said in my ear, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head.

The hug had met its demise, and I turned around to look at the mountains of boxes overflowing within the backseat and the trunk of my car.

I inaudibly sigh in my head, knowing how time consuming this is going to be. Luckily mother could probably sense my vexation.

“Your father and I were gonna help you whether you liked it or not, so come on.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry that drive just killed me.”

She looked at me with a knowing expression on her facial features, “This is why I told you we should’ve helped you with heading home.”

I rolled my eyes, “And I insisted that I could take care of it myself,” I walked around to the other side as each of us opened the other doors to the car to start unloading my stuff.

She chuckled, dismissing me with a shake of her head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let's start getting this done so you can go to sleep,” she paused behind me with a box wedged in her hands, “ cause your walkin’ around looking like a damn zombie.”

I scoffed jokingly, “ Ha ha ha, very funny.”

“Get to it y/n!” she called out from inside of the house.

I rolled my eyes yet again while lifting a fairly large pack that held my toiletries, and released a frustrated huff.

The thoughts of the future began to boil in my brain again, creating that oh so familiar, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I knew for a fact that I couldn’t stay at my parents house for longer than a year, meaning I was going to have to figure all of my shit out within that time frame. Although it may seem like a lifetime away, the rest of my life was really on the line here.

And I couldn’t begin to admit how scared I really was.

Damn I feel like I’m being so unbelievably dramatic.

“Y/n, are you still alive over there?” The distant muffles I barely heard over me mentally walking down memory lane, became crystal clear.

My head jerked up abruptly, as I let out a small yelp, “What?”

I notice my dad in front of me, with two containers filled with my clothes, and a small bag stacked on top of one another in his hands.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, kiddo.”

“It's fine, I- what were you saying?”

We started to travel slowly towards the steps to the front porch, as he spoke, “I was sayin’ that we're gonna be having a small get together to celebrate you being back home tomorrow night.”

“Your small get-togethers are never just small dad, do you remember your 40th birthday? You had almost the same amount of people over as the block parties.”

He snickered, “Hey, what can I say, I’m just a popular guy,” the both of us enter the house as he turns to me again, “But I will say, it will more than likely be small. You’re just gonna see a few new faces in the mix.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, “Wait what? Do we have new neighbors or something?”

The both of us walk up the stairs to my room, and place the boxes alongside the wall opposite of my bed.

“Something like that,” he pats my shoulder and hurries out the door to the hallway, leaving me even more confused, “Why do you insist on being so cryptic all the time?”

“I’m gonna get the rest of your stuff!”

I groaned, crashing into the plush comforter that was laying neatly on the bed beneath me. With no delay, my eyelids leisurely closed, and I eventually doze off.

______________________

Heat radiated from my body as I woke from a peaceful sleep. I shifted uncomfortably a few times, feeling the sweat sticking to my body.

No matter how hard I try, sleeping in the heat of this room is going to be like trying to sleep in a damn sauna. Useless.

I rolled over, with the pitch black atmosphere through the windows, and around me, taking up most of my vision.

It’s probably in the middle of the damn night.

I lifted my arm slightly to let my hand feel around the bed, in search of my phone to check the time.

Just my luck, my fucking phone is missing.

I look over to the other side of the room, where the unpacked boxes and containers remained stacked by the wall. The slight glare of the moon's reflection was hitting something on top of the windowsill.

“There you are,” the words fumbled out of my mouth sleepily, while I slowly rose from what felt like my puddles of sweat on the sheets. Stumbling in the process, I made my way over to what was thankfully my phone laying down in the moonlight.

The illumination of the screen screamed at my eyes, causing me to look away for a second, “shit that was bright.”

I adjust my eyes to the light to see the clock on the top of the screen:

3:28am

“Great. Well at least I got some sleep.” I toss my phone across the room, hearing it thump onto the side of my bed.

A wave of heat ran across my arms and legs, reminding me of why I woke up in the first place, “I’m not gonna take the chance of melting any more tonight.”

I reach over to unhinge the latch on top of the window next to me, and open it halfway. A gust of polar air simmered around me almost immediately, swiftly cooling me off to satisfaction.

I close my eyes, letting the nightly winds blow over me, with a relaxed smile forming on my face.

My small moment of tranquility was rudely interrupted by a splash from outside.

My eyes jolted open, and I instantly lurch my head up to look in that direction. To my surprise, the lights were on over Nate and Elena’s; the pool lights.

“Why would-?”

I knew for a fact that it wasn’t Nathan or Elena, knowing that they have a child on the way. Both of them were guaranteed to be asleep.

So who the hell is using their pool at 3 in the damn morning? That question replayed in my head as I stared out towards the pool, waiting to see the whoever it could possibly be.

As if on cue, I watched as the figure emerged from the pool, and a man slowly stepped out while using the ladder at the edge.

Just like that, it felt that I didn't have control anymore. My curious eyes wandered; lingering all over him.

He wore black swim trunks that were snug on his thighs in all the right places. They sunk down to the lower half of his hips, exposing his very visible trail of hair on the lower half of his abdomen.

The more I drank of him, the more it affected me.

His chest hair glistened from the pool water that began streaming down his abs. My eyes found themselves trickling over his toned biceps, and his scattered variety of tattoos that took up only a few spots on his body.

I knew I had to look away, but I couldn’t.

I finally looked up at his face.

Holy fuck.

The lower half of his face was lined perfectly with stubble, with his seemingly soft lips as the centerpiece. I traveled up his face, noticing the wrinkles that were sketched sparingly across his features.

He ran his hand through his soaked locks of hair that partially hung in front of his face, with his muscles flexed to an extreme. He wandered over to the table and chairs that were by the edge of the pool area; that was much closer to my window.

After reaching for the towel, he rubbed it through his hair, and started drying the rest of his body with it. Him doing so caused me to look him up and down once again. I looked down to his feet, and up to his head.

Only this time around, I was met with his eyes.

I felt an overwhelming surge of panic, but I was stuck in place. I felt trapped, with no escape from this whatsoever.

I’m such an idiot. I mentally scolded myself for letting my lustful curiosity get the best of me.

The reprimands within my mind were sliced in half, as a sly smirk traced over his lips, creating a few more layers of wrinkles upon his cheeks.

This could be chalked up to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced.

I couldn’t decide on whether to focus on his lips or his eyes; it was becoming way too much to handle. I did a frantic dance between the two.

Coincidentally, as soon as our eyes met a final time, one of his eyelids opened and closed in one smooth motion, all while his stare remained fixated on me.

Did he really just do that? Did he just fucking wink at me?

I finally got the stamina to duck away from the window and onto the floor, with my back pressed against my former dorm room cases, and my breathing becoming more irregular by the second

What the fuck just happened?

#sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake #Uncharted 4 #uncharted fanfiction

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other* Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy? Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention. Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm* *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him. The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him. "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening. There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her." Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

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peachtree-dish · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: Pesnami bene mentre ti sogno

05 Novembre 1969

Alberto giggled to himself as he read the latest contents of Luca’s letter. The new school year had certainly started with a bang, almost literally. Luca had openly described his conversation with Signora Mia about the concepts of human mating and had vocally expressed his bewilderment of the whole concept. Alberto could only imagine the embarrassment Luca had felt during that discussion, although a part of him felt warm that his friend would trust him enough to talk about it. While he wasn’t necessarily an expert on human mating or romance, nothing that Luca wrote to him about it had shocked him. Alberto would need more than two hands to be able to count how often his father had dismissed him from the tower when he brought a new mate around. Pushing the memory away, the teen resolved that that part of the letter would remain unshared with the rest of the family. Shifting on his bed, Alberto held the letter closer to his bedside candle and continued reading.

‘I wish I could say that was the craziest part of my week, Berto. But, just a few days ago, we made a new acquaintance with a girl from Giulia’s grade level. Her name is Luisa, and guess what? She’s like us! Another sea monster, except her famiglia’s from southern Italy…’

“What!?” Alberto yelled, nearly ripping the letter in half in surprise. He winced, remembering the late hour and he waited for a moment, praying that he hadn’t woken Massimo. When the house remained still, he frantically went back to reading the letter, his hands trembling with anticipation.

‘She gets along really well with Giulia and Dante; Giulia especially because she threatens anyone who seems remotely threatening, which is kind of ironic. Luisa doesn’t like to talk about her life before coming to Genoa, so I don’t ask. Some kids at school say mean things to her, they say these ugly words about her skin. I don’t understand why humans are so focused on appearances, caro; fish come in all colors and shapes, but they’re still fish. I guess I thought humans would think the same way…’

“Not everyone is as good as you, that’s why,” Alberto mumbled, he smiled warmly.

‘Bene, I guess that’s all I have for now. Can’t wait to hear from you!

Il vostro,

Luca’

Alberto’s heart fluttered in his chest every time he read those closing remarks. He knew Luca didn’t mean it that way, but just for a moment, he could pretend that Luca really was his, as much as he was Luca’s. He skimmed back over the pages of the letter, still shocked by Luca’s revelation. He hadn’t realized there was other sea folk out in the world, but he guessed it made sense.

Tucking the letter under his pillow, the teen resolved to talk to the Paguro family in the afternoon after fishing. Perhaps they would have an idea about Luisa’s situation.

The water felt warm and inviting as it hugged Alberto’s scaled form. He stretched languidly, ever amazed at how water could make him feel. Warm laughter reached his ears and Alberto grinned at the voice.

“Enjoying yourself, ragazzo?” Alberto lazily faced Luca, feeling unhurried to respond immediately. Luca rolled his eyes and swam forward to slide his tail along with Alberto’s, the feeling causing his nerves to tingle and his gills to flap nervously. He reached his hand out, wrapping his hand around Luca’s waist and pulling his body towards his own. Alberto wrapped himself around his best friend, nuzzling the sensitive area between Luca’s jaw and gills. Luca hummed approvingly, his hands gliding and pulling against Alberto’s scaled hair in such a way that had Alberto gasping out. His body was beginning to feel unbearably warm and light, like a fire was beginning in his stomach and spreading outward.

“Luca,” he whined against his friend’s shoulder, desperate to bring him closer. Luca pressed a smiling kiss against the corner of Alberto’s mouth.

“Pazienzia, tesoro. No need to be so desperate,” Luca chuckled while he trailed his hands down Alberto’s sides, his nose rubbing deliberately against Alberto’s. When his lips finally closed the distance, the older teen was too far gone, his mind fogged with delirious pleasure. Luca’s mouth was hot as he opened under Alberto, encouraging him wordlessly. He pulled away and grinned down at Alberto’s flustered face, he flexed his claws against Alberto’s chest, the pain catching him off guard.

“Hey, wait, that hurts-” Luca’s claws flexed again, puncturing his scales.

With a yelp, Alberto woke up to find a very large, very angry cat gripping the front of his shirt. Machiavelli growled disapprovingly at Alberto before releasing his claws and scurrying to the end of the bed.

“Maledetto gatto,” Alberto grumbled as he rubbed his sore chest. The 15-year-old monster wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for the wake-up call or distressed that there was a chance Machiavelli knew exactly what he had been dreaming about. His cheeks were still flushed with excitement, and he didn’t need to look down to know he was having a mild situation. He was surprised to see patches of scales blooming across his skin from where sweat had gathered in his sleep, and he quickly shook himself to clear the evidence. Outside was still dark, but that didn’t mean Massimo wouldn’t come looking for him soon.

Alberto stood awkwardly and went to the window to press his hot forehead against the glass, willing his body to calm down. The guilt inevitably came once he remembered the contents of his dream. It wasn’t right of him to think of Luca that way or to have such feelings. How would Luca react if he knew? Alberto scrubbed his hand down his face in frustration.

You always were a troubled child, Berto. Why do you think I left you?

Alberto growled, stubbornly pushing his father’s voice away. Luca would never find out, it was as simple as that.

“Come on, Alberto,” He mumbled to his reflection in the glass, “you’re an expert at hiding things.”

As the stars began to fade behind the rays of the morning sun, Massimo would find Alberto wide awake and dressed for their morning fishing, two cups of caffè steaming on the table beside him. Though Alberto was excellent at hiding his emotions, Massimo knew when he was hurting, and the thought troubled his old heart.

“Sea monsters from the south, eh?” Lorenzo stared wide-eyed at Alberto as he poured rich, red wine into small glasses for the adults at the table, while Alberto, Ciccio, and Guido drank Coca-Cola respectively.

“That’s what Luca wrote. He said Luisa and her family are from the Sicilian coast, they moved to Genoa not too long ago.”

“I had no idea we had people that far south,” Daniela mused, she looked just as shocked as her husband. Her mother scoffed from beside her, Nonna’s cheeks already flushed red from the alcohol. Alberto wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already been drinking before she’d arrived.

“Of course, we sea folk are everywhere,” Nonna harrumphed, her round belly bouncing with the effort. “The problem is that we’re too damn good at not getting found.” She paused to contemplate, “At least that was the case up until last year.”

“Wait, does that mean there are even sea monsters in Antarctica?” Guido pressed, his hands were clutched tightly around his coke glass, the heat coming from them fogging up the sides.

Nonna shrugged before taking a sip of wine, “Probably. You humans have to understand that we’re a very adaptable people and we’ve been hiding from you for millennia.”

“And just how do you know about all this, Ma?”

“Cara, you know I love you, but my horizons were a lot wider before you came along. Where do you think Luca got his buon senso from?” Daniela tsked while Nonna smugly drank from her glass.

“It makes sense if you think about it,” Ciccio piped up. Several sets of eyes turned to him, and the poor teen shrank into his chair. “Humans have been migrating all around the world since the beginning, and so do animals. It seems only natural that your species would do the same.” He trailed off as everyone stared at him in shock. Ciccio wasn’t known to speak often or for so long.

“Ciccio, I had no idea there was more than dough in that curly head of yours,” Guido wrapped a supportive arm around the blonde’s shoulders and wiped an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.” Ciccio rolled his eyes, but he relaxed into his chair while everyone laughed good-naturedly.

Alberto glanced at Massimo who had not said one word throughout the exchange, which for the mountainous man was not unusual. However, he also hadn’t drunk any of his wine and that was abnormal. The young sea monster tilted his head at the man, confident that he would sea his unspoken question. Massimo nodded his head slightly and cleared his throat, the action catching the attention of everyone present.

“Something seems off about Luisa’s situation, I think Luca needs to proceed with caution.” With that said, he tossed the wine back and tapped the glass on the table before excusing himself. Alberto frowned in confusion, finding the behavior odd. He was not left any time to dwell on it when Guido spoke from beside him.

“Do you think Luca’s going to ask her out?”

“What?” Alberto immediately zeroed in on the conversation as Lorenzo and Daniela shared an eager look.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” Daniela cooed.

“What makes you think he even likes her?” Alberto grimaced, his voice coming out louder than intended. He gave a shaky laugh as the Paguro family turned to him in shock.

“I mean, they’ve just met, you can’t assume his feelings from one letter.”

“Ah, all it takes is a little time.” Lorenza waved his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry, Alberto caro, you’ll still have your best friend!” Daniela assured, misreading his upset, “Besides, once you find yourself a nice girl, you can all hang out together!” Alberto stared open-mouthed at the older monster, completely floored at her assumptions.

He desperately wanted to tell her, tell them all, that it wasn’t okay! It wouldn’t be the same, and there would never be a girl for him to find. But he couldn’t voice all that, not yet most likely never. They’d never accept you if you did, his father sneered. They’d be repulsed and remove Luca from your life permanently. Nonna Paguro watched the scene unfold with a frown and when her gaze landed on Alberto, he froze. He felt that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and the thought silenced his frustration, replacing it with ice-cold dread. Relaxing and placing a confident grin on his face, he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Heh, sure.” He slumped back in his seat before aggressively pulling his drink towards him and slurping loudly, too afraid of leaving his mouth unoccupied. Beside him, Ciccio and Guido shared a look of concern before speaking once more.

“Hey, Alberto, why don’t you come back to my papa’s garage tonight and we can continue working on Signore Massimo’s pickup?” Guido placed a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder. “We can run through the mechanics again to prepare you for the colder season, si?”

Momentarily distracted, Alberto scoffed, “As if I’d ever forgotten, stupido!” Guido grinned and nodded.

“I thought as much. We’ll catch you later then.” Politely excusing themselves and taking their bottles with them, the pair left quickly. Alberto also excused himself from the group, eager to escape Nonna’s penetrating stare and the giddy conversation of both Daniela and Lorenzo.

He found Massimo outside, repairing the nets and removing the knots that stubbornly clung to one another. For all his clever ways of overcoming his disability, there were still certain things that the old fisherman struggled with. The nets continued to slip from his fingers as the man impatiently tried to pull the knots free using his good hand and teeth. Quietly, Alberto sat next to him and picked up the net to begin loosening the knots.

“You repair, I’ll untangle.” He chanced a look at Massimo, whose only response was to quirk an eyebrow approvingly before returning to his portion. After working together in silence for a time Alberto finally spoke, his racing thoughts becoming too much for the silence of his mind.

“Why don’t you trust Luisa?” He asked softly, eyes trained solely on his work. Massimo paused in what he was doing before resuming. When he eventually spoke, his words were stilted.

“Perhaps I am overthinking… I worry that she does not share so much with Luca or my figlia. Luisa’s situation is unique, vero, but I worry about the things she is not saying.” Alberto sat for a moment, Massimo’s words rolling through his mind like the waves on the beach.

“She seems to be okay, though. I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone, especially one of her own kind.” Massimo hummed in agreement.

“Si, but even the brightest days can threaten rain.” He turned to look at Alberto, the net forgotten in his lap. “Do your people know about our Great Wars?” When Alberto shrugged in confusion, the older man continued.

“Before you were born, when I was around your age, my country went to war for something that we thought was right. Our leaders told us one thing but then would act differently. Looking back, I realize they were foolish, selfish men who caused the death of many good people.” Massimo twisted his net bitterly. “I just don’t want Luca or my Giulietta getting hurt by any more lies.” Alberto squirmed slightly, his mind reflecting on his own secrets.

A secret isn’t a lie, he grumbled mentally. His gut feeling disagreed heavily with him on that.

“I know Luca would never let anything happen to Giulia, so I don’t think you have to worry about them. I’d be more concerned for Luisa if she ever tries something; Giulia is terrifying.” Massimo chuckled heartily and clapped Alberto on the shoulder with his massive hand.

“Buon punto, figlio mio. She gets it from her mother, I think.” Alberto smiled, feeling warm at Massimo’s words.

He’d never consider you a son if he knew the truth about you, Alberto’s father chuckled darkly. He’d be disgusted if he knew how vile you really are. Alberto grimaced and muttered, “Silenzio, Bruno,” under his breath.

“Cosa?” Massimo hummed in confusion.

“Oh, niente. Is it all right if I go see Ciccio and Guido tonight, they wanted to work on the Hudson?” He eagerly changed the subject

“Of course, Alberto. Just be back before it gets too late, si?”

Alberto nodded and stood to brush the dust from his pants. “Grazie, I’ll be back on time, I promise.”

Turning the key, Alberto relaxed into the seat as the engine rumbled, its vibrations easing the tension in his body. Mechanics were simple, which is why Alberto loved them so much. The Hudson lazily made its way through the streets of the town, climbing the steep hill until it nearly reached the top where Guido lived with his parents. Ciccio and Guido were waiting for him under one of the garage’s many lights. On either side of them lay cars and Vespas alike, all dormant and a few with parts strewed on or under them.

At the sound of the Hudson’s engine, both teens eagerly raced to the driver’s side. Within moments, the truck’s hood was popped, and each boy began working on separate parts of the vehicle. Guido knew more about cars and engines from his father, but Alberto listened intently each time the brunette explained things. He had been such a quick learner that Guido’s father insisted that he train under him during the winter months when the fishing was light enough for Massimo to do on his own.

Signore Capellino was a tall, slender man with a long face and stern eyes. At one point he had held a harpoon aimed at both Luca and Alberto as they stood surrounded in Porto Rosso’s plaza, but once he knew Alberto, his prejudices had all but disappeared. Especially when he discovered Alberto’s interest in mechanics.

“I worked in Caproni’s company during the war,” he once explained to Alberto while working on the engine of a beat-up convertible, “the planes we built were arte, and then our government took them and filled them with bombs.” He spat on the ground. “we were making history in those days, ragazzo!”

Alberto had no idea who Caproni was, but he figured he must have been important for Signore Capellino to feel so strongly about it.

Back in the present, Alberto was twisting off bolts from the connecting rod of the engine. Years of grime and dirt creating a slimy glue that kept the bolts stubbornly in place.

“So, are you going to tell us what’s really bothering you?” Guido’s voice startled him from his efforts. He leaned out from behind the driver’s seat to peer at Alberto. Shrugging, Alberto returned to the engine, using the hood to hide his expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bah, you are as stubborn as those bolts, amico. We’ve watched you pout every time Luca leaves for nine months, but you seem even more rovesciato than usual.” Alberto gaped at him, feeling indignant.

“I don’t pout!”

“You do.” Ciccio’s voice sang from under the engine. Feeling resentful, Alberto sprayed oil in the general direction of the blond boy, feeling vindicated when he shouted in surprise.

“Is it a sea monster thing?” Guido pressed gently. Alberto sighed, trying to stave off the wave of panic rising in his chest.

“Not exactly, more of an Alberto thing.” He pressed his lips in a thin line, feeling thoroughly trapped.

Guido sighed, “Okay, you don’t have to say anything, but,” He held up a finger, “when you are ready to talk about it, we’ll be here.” Alberto chuckled, his chest feeling lighter. Guido and Ciccio were good people, and he was lucky to have them.

“Grazie, ragazzi I appreciate it.” And he meant it. In the back of his mind, Alberto wondered if he would ever be able to voice his fears. Perhaps not, but if the day ever came, he could trust that Guido and Ciccio would be there and that was enough.

16 novembre, 1969

“Buon cumpleanno, caro.” Luca’s voice was like a lifeline after weeks without a phone call. Alberto clung to it with his whole soul.

“Thanks, Luca. How are you?”

“Cold but surviving.” Luca chuckled.

“I hear ya, it’s storming like crazy here.” A clap of thunder sounded overhead, confirming Alberto’s words. Behind him Massimo was serving slices of birthday cake to the Paguros and Guido and Ciccio, his booming voice a comfortable sound.

“Is your birthday going well so far, anything exciting?”

“Machiavelli managed to steal my knife, and that was definitely a scene to witness.” Luca laughed loudly on his end, the image of the fat cat being chased while holding such a dangerous object was something he was sad to miss.

“I hope you were able to get it back,” He teased.

“Actually, the maledetto gatto is holding me hostage as we speak. He was very adamant that I call you.”

Luca’s heart ached with yearning. “Well, even if he’s holding you hostage, I’m grateful he insisted.”

“Me too,” Alberto huffed a laugh, grateful no one could see his burning face.

“I meant to tell you, I’ve been asked to work as an assistant to the teacher. Because of my financial situation, the school agreed that the hours I work with her will lessen my expenses.” The words rushed out with such force, Luca was forced to take a breath, “I was hoping you’d pass the word onto Signore Massimo so that he won’t have to worry about sending as much money anymore.”

Alberto’s praise stuck in his throat thickly, stopping any words from passing through. He had never told Luca where the money had come from, it was unfair of him to assume Luca would know where it had come from. There was that tight feeling in Alberto’s chest again, the one where he felt close to saying something stupid.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that, although I’m sure he wouldn’t mind continuing to send it to you. He, uh, he really cares, ya know?”

“I know, but I feel so guilty for taking something that isn’t mine, caro.”

It’s as much yours as it is mine, tesoro. Alberto thought desperately

“O-okay, I’ll let him know.” His voice cracked. “I hope you know how proud of you I-we all are.”

“How could I forget? You tell me in every letter. I’m proud of you too.” His warm laughter reminded Alberto of his dream and he shook his head, too afraid that Luca would somehow know. You wouldn’t be proud of me then, he thought miserably.

“By the way, did you get my gift?” Luca asked excitedly. Alberto relaxed again, eyes finding the small, hand-painted Vespa sitting innocently on the edge of the table. Its blue paint glittering amidst the butcher paper that had been wrapped messily around it. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine Luca hunched over the parcel, trying to wrap and tape the paper neatly. The thought caused a grin to split across his face.

“I did, and I love it, grazie mio caro amico.”

“Giulia helped me paint it and Luisa picked out the colors. She said the blue reminded her of how I spoke of you.”

Alberto’s smile dropped instantly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s got a good eye for colors like Signora Mia, they love to talk about art all the time.” Alberto bit his lip as he listened to his best friend ramble on, the tight feeling growing in his chest.

“Hey, Luca, I need to go, they’re calling for me.” He hated himself.

“Oh.” Luca stopped, his shock apparent. “O-okay, I’ll talk to you on New Year’s Eve?”

“Of course, I’ll talk to you soon.” The feeling was spreading to his fingertips, making them numb.

“I miss you.” The words were whispered so softly, Alberto almost missed them. With a surge, the feeling was swept back by a tidal wave of warmth.

“I miss you, too.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he pressed the phone closer, trying to get as close to Luca as possible.

“Seven months,”

“Four days,” Alberto instantly responded.

“Five hours,” Luca laughed.

“Sixteen minutes a-a-and thirty-two seconds,” Alberto grinned, tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Arrivederci, Alberto.”

“Arrivederci, Luca.”

The line went silent.

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