#giggling like a small child half “hidden” behind a lamp

[lunapwrites]

And not two minutes after posting that sad lad post, I'm hiding under my bed trying to scare the shit out of my partner because teehee

No but really I'm posting this from under the bed. I am actively in wait as we speak. Like you know that voiceover video of the little spider burying himself in sand? That is me. I am that spider.

[invisibleraven]

Winter prompts! 2 (sees snow for the first time) character of your choice!

When Julie's parents sent her away to live with her aunt in the countryside, she had hated them fiercely. Yes, they had assured her that they still loved her, and would come back for her as soon as they could. And deep down, she knew she was safer here in this little house than anywhere near where the war was raging or bombs were being dropped. But she didn't have to be happy about it.

She missed the city, the ability to get a bus almost anywhere, even if she wasn't old enough to ride it by herself yet. The museums, the shops, the cinema. All tia's village had was a little store that sold sweets alongside the postage stamps and the newspaper. Plus you had to walk everywhere, not a bus in sigh. And you could forget about culture, the closest thing was the library, and Julie had exhausted their small supply of child appropriate books months ago. She was half tempted to see if the librarian would loan her something more adult, but she knew that woman would rat her out to her aunt.

Thus she was stuck inside exploring her aunt's house more often than not. She had a healthy supply of records, and the wireless was a good distraction, even if Victoria scrambled to change it when news of the world came on. Julie scowled at that, wanting desperately to know if the city still stood, if the country was winning... if her parents and their fight for victory was succeeding.

Eventually she felt she knew every corner of the home, down to the last dust mite. Except the one room that her aunt kept locked. Julie found the key hidden in a drawer, and one day while Victoria was out playing bridge, she clicked it open. Only to find it empty save for one large wardrobe against the wall.

Opening it up, she saw a wealth of coats, some even lined with fur, luxurious ermine, soft angora wool, one even had mother of pearl buttons! Julie dug in, pulling one on, posing in front of the mirror, pouting her lips like she saw the movie stars do.

It was then that she felt a chill, heard the tinkling of bells, coming from behind the coats. She dug into them, finding the wardrobe went even further back than she thought, and dove in, leaving the coat in a crumpled heap on the floor.

She kept going until she found a light in the distance, and when she reached forward, it didn't feel like coats, but the branches of a great pine tree, the kind her parents always got at yuletide. She could smell the evergreens, and when she pushed past their scratchy branches had to stop.

The world around her was cold, and covered in snow.

Snow!

Julie was delighted, holding her hands out as soft flakes fell from the sky, watching them melt against the warmth of her skin. Giggled when she could see her breath dancing on the wind. Skipped and danced through the crunchy snow beneath her, heedless of the wetness seeping into her sensible shoes. Holding out her tongue to catch the errant flakes that blew past, and twirling once more until she found herself in a clearing.

Where there was naught but a lamp post.

She approached slowly, the warm glow feeling welcoming amidst this new world of icy delights.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Julie whirl around and stared, for before her was a man... well he looked like a man, only with the legs of a goat! His chest was bare save a bright red scarf around his neck, and she could spy tiny horns peaking through his unruly brown curls. "Hello my dear. Welcome to Narnia. I'm Mr. Tumnus."

"Julie," she said, giving a little curtsey. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The satyr grinned, giving a mock bow, and Julie immediately felt at ease. He even offered to introduce her to his friends, the badgers, but she could hear her aunt calling, so she regretfully declined.

She gave Mr. Tumnus a mournful goodbye, and made her way back through the tress, struggling through the coats until she collapsed onto the hard wood floor. Then rushed off towards where Victoria was calling her.

Resolving to come back, to see snow, see her new friend once more.

One thing was for certain though, her sojourn into the country while the war raged on was looking a lot less boring!

[cynettic]

What about play hide and seek with Diluc, Childe, Kaeya and Zhongli with small s/o? Maybe fluffy

Summary - Playing hide and seek with Genshin characters, with the advantage of being short.

Pairings - Reader x Zhongli / Diluc / Kaeya / Childe

Warnings - None? Unless you’re still at that stage where you think kissing is gross :(

Penpal - I enjoyed this so much!!! Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoyed it :)

A/N - I used to be a pro at hide and seek- but that’s probably cause I was a tiny thing as a child. I can’t fit into half the things I used to fit into lol. And bro- why does my autocorrect keep changing ‘crunchy’ into ‘crunchyroll.’ Like that doesn’t even make sense- it feels like it’s making fun of me :(

Hide and Seek with a Small S/O

Diluc

When you first mentioned it he didn’t hide his confusion.

The idea of playing a game he would play when he was younger made no sense to him, not until you revealed that you just wanted to drag him out of his desk and get him to do something else. ‘Anything’ else. Diluc was known for overworking and you swore that if he continued at this rate, you’d start to see grey hair.

“Grey hair?” He’d asked one time, hand reaching to tousle his red locks. “I wasn’t aware that working caused such side effects…” he flashed you a suspicious look, not entirely convinced. “Unless this just another one of your ploys to get me out of my office…?”

“Bingo,” you replied back with a smile, tugging at his arm. “Now cmon, come play hide and seek with me.”

And who was he to say no to his adorable s/o?

So he takes you by the arm, following along as you drag him to the centre of the manor. No one except the two of you are in the residence, maids gone for vacation, Elzer having head to Monstadt to help with the deliveries.

You tell him to count to 30.

When he covers his eyes with both hands and begins the countdown, you scurry upstairs, knowing fully well that he can hear the stairs cream underneath you. But that won’t matter.

Being small as you are, you can fit into tiny places without too much effort. So you find the bathroom cabinet, opening the doors and crawling inside. Towels and hygiene products accompany you in the darkness, and you press your knees to your chest.

You can hear Diluc slowly get up the stairs.

Actually, you can hear the soft thump of his footsteps wherever he goes. His room, your room, just until he opens the bathroom door.

You’re especially quiet as he opens the shower curtains, peeking in the tub and giving the room a quick look over. Shallow breaths as he slowly walks back to the door.

But just before he leaves the washroom, he pauses, your breaths the only audible thing as he stops. You know immediately that he found you when his footsteps walked back into the washroom, stopping right at the sink cabinets.

Oh well, he isn’t the darknight hero for nothing.

————

“Y/n?”

The cabinets door open slowly, the sudden light blinding you for a moment before you could focus back on the redhead in front of you. He’s crouched down, height still giving him a good head above the sink anyway. He lowers his figure to fully face you, chuckle slipping out of his lips at the sight of you huddled against the cramped area.

Without speaking, he instead reaches his hand to tug you out of the darkness of the cabinet. Hand against the small of your back as he pushes you towards him, till you were pressed against his chest. You bury your face into his shoulder, huffing in disappointment.

“What gave it away? I was being so quiet too…”

He rubbed his thumb across the skin of your back, slowly standing up with you in one hand. “I believe I’m a much greater listener than you give me credit for.” When he stands you up on both feet, you rub your eyes, still adjusting to the light.

“Alright,” you put both hands on the sink behind you, leaning back. “Your turn then? I’ll give you thirty seconds from up here, that should be enough.”

Raising an eyebrow, he quickly shakes his head. “I’m afraid my height would give me away in a matter of seconds love.” You open your mouth to disagree, there were plenty more spots- “But I won’t be heading back to work either, I do believe my rest is long due.” He laces your hand in his, soft sigh as he encases your small palm against his. It was comforting to be able to slide his fingers into yours, small enough to make him want to shield your body from everything all together. Keep you protected in his arms as your hands clenched the fabric of his jacket. “What do you say about resting bed then, together?”

———

Kaeya

A tad confused like Diluc at the start, but less stubborn when you insist on playing it with him.

He too works a lot, and if not buried in paperwork, he’s off doing missions outside or providing help to Monstadt residents. And when he’s off work, he wants to he’s still the tavern and drink till he drops, a habit he’s put to a stop for you, but still does on the certain occasion.

So when you ask, he can’t really say no. Besides, the idea does sound fun to a degree, why not give it a go?

“Make sure to find a good spot,” he whispers into your ear as the two of you walk along the bridge. “I’m afraid I’m a terribly good seeker, you don’t want the round to end too quickly do you?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you hummed back with a grin. “You’ll end up eating your words.”

On a side note, you scare Timmie’s pigeons away and he yells at you.

You both walk to the Whispering Woods, a suggestion made by you. Settling at the start of the trail, you tell Kaeya to give you about a minute at the very least.

“And count slow,” you clarify with accusatory eyes. “No cheating.”

With a smirk, he begins to count, facing the other way as you scurry into the forest. Being as small as you are, you could easily creep into a log or bush, or climb a tree if you really wanted. So you settled with a tree, finding the highest one with the most branches and leaves to keep you cover.

It didn’t take you long to get up.

Clawing your way while using the branches as leverage, eventually hoisted your body up into one of the tallest branches. It was only then that you let yourself relax, looking down in search of Kaeya if he’d begun searching.

He checked ‘everywhere.’

Extremely detail oriented, he knew you were small enough to hide yourself in the smallest crevices. So he looked and looked, and you could only watch from your high position in the tree, giggling at his slight frustration.

It was only when he leaned against the tree that you knew he’d found you, peering up to give you a small smile.

“Oh~? And how’d you get yourself up there-?”

———

“I know how to climb a tree,” you stated back, rolling your eyes. “Took you so long too, thought I was gonna fall asleep.”

At his pout, you began to climb down. Branches scratching your arms as you made sure you were secure with every step you took. Nothing painful, but tedious when you were being so careful not to slip and fall.

“The woods have lots of hiding spots,” Kaeya defensively stated back, eyes tracking your movements. “Do you expect me to have checked all the trees in a matter of seconds…?”

You snickered, “Yeah. You kinda are the cavalry captain yknow.” A joke of course, Kaeya was already comfortable enough around you to reveal his insecurities and let you past his confident demeanour. He knew you didn’t expect anything from him, especially not as his title in the Favonius Knights.

But before he could retort back, your leg skimmed past one of the branches, hand grip not firm enough to keep you from falling. You were airborne for a moment before your arm hit one of the branches, pushing it away from your head as you were sent tumbling to the ground.

Kaeya cursed before quickly catching you from his position under the tree, hands catching your waist and easily pulling you to his chest bridal style. Your small figure pressed up against him, head on his shoulder as you blinked past the shock.

“Ouch.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, he gently set you down to the ground, crouching to scan your form. There were various scratches, none of them bleeding along the line of your shoulder.

His big hands still held you by the shoulders, eyes trailing along the bruise on your arm from the fall. He frowned, not hiding his disdain at the newfound injury. Gently, he cradled your arm in both his hands, brushing his thumb across the red splotch that would no doubt fade into an ugly purple and blue.

“It’s fine,” you reassured to his pensive eyes. “It’s a bruise, my fault for slipping anyways.”

He seemed unconvinced, but helped pull you up when knowing he couldn’t do anything. Not here. “Alright then, let’s get you back, Barbara will be able to patch it up in no time.” You nodded, walking alongside him down the trail. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Ha- as if. If anyone needs to be carried, it’s you and your pride. I still can’t believe you took that long to find me.”

“My- and who said my pride took a hit from that?” But he played along with your jest, keeping one hand securely around your shoulder. “My my, such a caring individual you are. I might just take you up on that offer to carry me then.”

———

Childe

Bro- this guy would’ve been the one to ask ‘you.’

He probably got the idea on one of Teucer’s visits, persuading you and him to join the younger boy in a game of hide and seek. And even if it had taken the younger boy quite a bit to find both you and Childe hidden in the closet piled with clothes, it had entertained you all.

So it doesn’t come unexpected that he tugs you by the arm, gesturing to the crisp cool air of Liyue, tall imposing buildings lightened by the street lamps.

“Oh cmon Y/n, one game?”

He’d just gotten back from work, and you who’d finished your work much earlier had been waiting around for him to get back. Settling on a night walk, you weren’t surprised he proposed the idea.

“Hm? Fine, but you’re the seeker.” Your gaze slid along the buildings, small crevices and alleyways just waiting for you to sneak in. The night air coupled along with the dead silence gave you a thrill, you might actually enjoy this.

“Fine by me! I’m giving you thirty seconds.”

Scoffing, you push your shoulder against his arm. “No way, you’re give me more than that. I’m finding a good spot and I sure need more than thirty seconds in the ‘entirety’ of Liyue Port to find somewhere.”

He had no choice but to nod along, a smile forming at the idea. “I’m going to find you anyway, but sure, go and have your try at it. Let’s see how long it takes me.”

You take up the challenge, running quickly through the streets of Liyue as you attempt to find a place.

Being small, and having so many options to hide, you figured you should find someplace Childe ‘couldn’t’ get into.

Just to see the look on his face-

Luckily for you, there’s a little stretch right between buildings with a tiny cramped up space. It’s too small to call it an alleyway, but once inside it stretches up a tad bit more.

Maybe you’re claustrophobic, maybe you’re not, but you settle on going in there just for the sole purpose of mocking Childe.

By the time you’ve fully crept inside, you could only guess that he’d stopped counting. It took a while, but eventually you heard the soft sound of footsteps against gravel, crunching the rocks on its path.

When he made it to the alleyway, he peeked into the darkness, greeting you with a smirk.

“Found you.”

———

You found yourself smiling back sweetly at him, tilting your head to the side when you said, “Ah, well you do have to tag the hider you know. That’s how we played it with Teucer~” you put your hands up innocently, watching his eyes furrow in confusion. “Oh come on, you found me, tagging me should be the easy part.”

So Childe of course tried to squeeze in the little crevice, grunting when he couldn’t fit in at all. A scornful look of frustration crept onto his face as he tried and tried again to at least get his reach to you-

“I’m enjoying the view, but hurry it up would you? You told me you’d win in no time.”

He only grew more visibly frustrated at your comment, pulling out to try new tactics. He found he couldn’t reach you by hand, and when he used one of his water swords to try to drag you to him, you kicked it away.

“You’ll scratch me!”

“I’ll be careful I swear-“

Nevertheless, Childe soon grew discouraged after nothing worked. He contemplated teleporting in there with his hydro vision… but he didn’t want to know what would get squashed if he took the chance.

He summoned his water swords again, swinging them around in his hand menacingly as he stared down. “Well,” he drawled, watching it be your turn to give him a confusing stare. “If I can’t reach you by hand, guess I’ll just have to cut my way through.”

“Huh?! But these are buildings, you can’t just-“

“Oh yes I can. I most certainly can, and believe me when I say I ‘will.’” He paused to flash you a grin, teeth gleaming against the streetlights in contrast to the dark. He stared at you as if you were prey, sending a shiver up your spine as he assumed the role of predator. “Unless you get out.”

You really had no choice, not when it came to either that or destroying buildings for your sake. And even if he was joking, which you were sure he was, you didn’t want to risk it.

“Ugh, fine you cheater.”

“Who said threats weren’t allowed?”

You only stuck your tongue out at him, getting out of the little crevice. What you didn’t expect was for him to pick you up straight after, swinging you in his arms like you would a baby. He pressed a sly kiss to your cheek, content with the way you swung your legs to break free.

When he didn’t give in to your struggles, you simply laid back, groaning. “Archons… so persistent.”

He just pressed a kiss to your lips, carrying you all the way back home and successfully shutting you up.

————

Zhongli

He can join Diluc and Kaeya in the confusion. But 10x worse.

First of all, despite having lived for so long, he’s probably never even heard of it. Would grasp the concept quick, but he’s never heard it called as ‘Hide n Seek.’

But alas, if you want to play it, consider him in. He’s willing as long as it doesn’t endanger you in any way. And honestly? He could use a little fun and games once in a while, especially with you <3

Give him a rundown of the game a few times and you’re set. As per location wise, please do it at the Funeral Parlour.

And even if Hu Tao is there, she’d probably join in :)

On the occasion that she wasn’t, and you were leaning over Zhongli’s desk and staring down at the paperwork he was filling, it won’t be too hard to convince him.

“Please? It’s a small break from your work, I’ll even help you with it after!”

Zhongli scrutinized your face, quill in his hand on hold as he stayed pensive. “I… suppose.” He settled, looking around the room. “But are you sure you’ll be able to find such a spot here? It’s a rather small area.”

You only grinned back, “Trust me.”

And he did, closing his eyes and counting out loud like you asked him to. You trusted him not to cheat, hence why you kept the countdown at 30 seconds, and didn’t force his hands on his eyes.

And well… you were small, which really only meant one thing.

Closet.

But it wasn’t your typical grand closet. No, it was filled with cabinets and little slots for paper and such. Which meant that you could fit in one of the bottom cabinets of you laid down. So being careful with the closet door so that it wasn’t audible to his ears, you laid down into the darkness, closing it up.

Waiting for Zhongli to finish counting, you slowed your breathing, waiting. He walked around the room aimlessly, and it wasn’t too long till he opened the closet doors.

You again were on the bottom shelf of a walk in closet, so he would have to kneel down to even see you.

But he did something you didn’t expect.

The closet doors shut, leaving you both in darkness.

———

The wood planks brushed up against your back, scratching your shirt as you stayed utterly motionless in an act to conceal your location. But in the darkness, you couldn’t see anything and were completely at the disadvantage.

You heard the floor creak beneath you, flinching when it came closer to your spot. You froze, hoping that it was just a coincidence and that he would step out of the closet soon after.

But instead you were greeted by the sensation of lips against your own.

Mind going completely and utterly blank, it took you a second to realize that Zhongli had knelt down to press a quick kiss to your lips. He hadn’t even tried to scare you or tap you to get the deed done. Instead he had taken his careful time to fluster you.

“Zhongli,” You breathed, slowly bringing the rest of your body out of the tiny space. “How- what…”

You couldn’t see him in the darkness, only feel the sensation of his hand glide across your neck to tousle your hair affectionately. He pulled you to another kiss to stop your voice, cupping your small body into his arms and pressing you against him.

“How could I resist?” He simply answered into your ear, a low growl that tremored through your body. “Hu Tao is gone, and I haven’t gotten to kiss you in forever.”

“You could’ve just asked you dolt…”

But you pressed in against him for another kiss anyways, smiling at the way his hands came to cradle your back. How he had to lean down to press his lips against yours, position almost predatory against your body.

[vangoddamn]

Blind spot

You had always loved Van, weather it was because he had been your best mate since you were 15 or the way he was so passionate about music and life in general. You had first met Van when you got your first job at the local vinyl shop, Van and his mates being the regulars it became routine seing them every other day after school. Whole Saturday’s would be spend looking at the new stock deliveries and whole Sunday’s spent laying on the floor of your bedroom listening to the newly purchased vinyl.

It was a Saturday night and you and Van were listening to the new Oasis album ‘Dig out your soul’ .

It was an easy crowd to fit into and your new social group consisted of wherever Van was. This meant the boys from the band and Larry quickly became your favourite people. The shared interest in photography meant Bob and you would happily go on excursions together in the last hours of the day to catch the sunset. Benji shared your flare and obsession with all things geeky, and Star wars nights were an often occurance with Van falling asleep on your shoulder complaining about how it confused him. 

On this particular day he was supposed to be out with his sleazy girlfriend Kathleen, which in all honesty you despised. It might have been the fact that you had loved Van for so long and had to watch him with other girls, making you physically hurt. Or the fact she had from day one made up her mind to be overly clingy infront of you with Van and try get him away from you, knowing that we clearly had a better bond than she ever did. But instead he was still on the floor of your bedroom head on your belly as you were both layed down.

"Van?" You spoke up, pondering slightly over your words, trying to choose carefully. You didn't want him to go, but you felt guilty if you didn't remind him.

"yes y/n?" He mumbled, his voice going up at the end and the vibrations going through your stomach, making you tingle.

"shouldn't you be headin' off like, cause Kathleen an all?" Your voice was hardly convincing, you always used her full name in spite, but you tried your best to sound the least bitter about it as possible.

You didn't really know the answer you were expecting but it wasn't what was about to happen, and you didn't expect how you'd react. He rolled onto his front and crawled up to your face, only inches away, whispering. "oh yeah I broke it off with her" before kissing your forehead and snuggling into your neck and hugging round your waste.

This was your usual hold when one of you needed comforting. He did it when Andy broke up with you and you did it when he broke his leg and was in hospital for 38 hours and this time for some reason you got the impression he was trying to comfort me.

You were a little confused, the fact he was infactuated with her a week ago was baffling. How had you not heard about this yet either, you were his best friend and stuff travels like wild fire in this town. You tried hard to push the thoughts out of your head but you were so confused.

With a huff you sat up, looking at him with a puzzled face. "Why?" You didn't mean to sound annoyed but you were a little.

He was always going out with girls, yes some were annoying, but you tried so much to like them. Sometimes you got the feeling you tried more than him. But it was agonising to just watch him, girl after girl, when you had been right there all along and he never batted an eyelid. People said you had him wrapped round your finger but it really didn't feel like it then.

"y/n, love listen I need to talk to ya" he chuckled trying to calm you down, not really working.

"no, I think I'm going to go out for a bit" you mumbled getting up, you felt tears in your eyes daring to show themselves and you didn't want Van to see.

"y/n, this is your house!" He called after you, but you both respected each others boundaries, so he didn't run after you.

You weren't sure why you were so upset, you told Van how much you hated Kath every time you got onto the subject. Maybe it was the fact you'd have to be introduced to another girl, in say a week. He never gave time for you to grieve or prepare your self at least. He didn't understand how deeply you wanted him and how much it hurt to just watch him with girls he didn't really like, or that didn't even know him.

It was getting dark and cold and you regretted your sudden outbreak. The streets of Llandudno could get anyone lost, but after many midnight strolls, or tipsy walks home you knew it off the back of your hand.

You decided after careful consideration where to go. His house wasn't too far from where you had strayed, and he knew all about your feelings, well so did anyone who payed attention to you long enough. You could still feel tears rolling down your face, hot and burning your cheeks. You gave the door a couple of knocks, waiting for any sign of life. Thankfully it was Bob who answered, it would be embarrassing if it had been his mum.

"y/n," he cooed bringing you to a tight hug. "Guessing he told you then?" He mumbled into you head, pulling you into the house. His affections made tears poke out again only allowing you to nod into the embrace.

He sat you down at the end of his bed, cautiously sitting in front of you.

"why can't he just like me back," you whispered. "I know this looks stupid, cause he's just broken up with her but, I just know that I'll have to get used to someone else next week and it's never me," you managed to get the words out between breaths.

"oh come'ere" he said pulling you into a big bear hug, the best type. "You know better than I do that he loves ya, did he get to finish what he was telling you"

"no" you murmured, shaking your head feeling sorry for yourself.

"y/n he loves you, you need to talk to him" you'd heard it a thousand times from everyone around you so it wasn't hard to brush it off anymore.

"in a way friends usually do, then yes he loves me. But he never has a problem asking someone out who isn't me so whats going wrong there"

"your his best mate" he replied, stern as if he was telling off a child for not knowing the answer.

"exactly, I guess I should count myself lucky! At least I've got that going for me!" You huffed, voice slightly raising.

"y/n calm down come'ere it's ok, it will all work out" you wished you could believe him and at that moment you had to, so gave into his arms.

You spent around an over at his trying to calm down, Bob trying to convince you that Van loved you back. So when you left you had a glimmer of hope that Van might not be too quick to get another girlfriend.

It was completely dark outside now, the small seaside town pitch black except for the odd street lamp or glow from a window, even the pubs were dulling down now. You expected to walk home and snuggle into bed, so with your sleepy expectations that's what you started to do.

Your room was dark, assuming Van had gone home, you switched the dim lamp on your desk on and walked to your dresser under the window. Pulling out an over sized t-shirt and drawing the curtains closed you started to undress. Pulling your t-shirt over you head and dragging off your jeans, throwing them in the drawer you'd gotten your shirt from.

You would've started to take your underwear off but someone's touch stopped you. Your body froze like earlier, except this time you were half naked and about to cry. You knew it was Van by the way his calloused fingers felt on your bare stomach, cuddling around you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you liked Kath that much" he joked pulling a small smile from your lips, he was warm unlike the sharp breeze outside and it seeped into you.

"I'm going to miss her" you murmured back, officially confused to what was going on, but going along with his joke. He placed a kiss to your neck before taking a deep breath in and out, was this still part of the joke? His actions making you tingle every where imaginable with nerves and slight attraction. Fuck what was he doing.

"y/n, don't lie" you let a huff preparing for what you might say next.

"Van, I don't think you know how hard it is for me to just watch you go from woman to woman totally blind spotting me every time. I don't think you know how much it hurts each time you go for a girl that isn't me." You let go of your emotions like a balloon in the wind. Just watching it float off and settle in the atmosphere around you.

You expected him to pull away, confused and a little dazed. But his arms wrapped tighter around your bare waist and a feathery kiss was placed on your shoulder blade, resting his head against your back.

"love, I'd never blind spot you," he whispered against your skin, before kissing again along your back, up your collar bone and to your jaw. Each kiss was delicate and carefully placed with intent.

"vaaan..." you weren't sure what he was doing. "please, I don't think you know what your doing,"

"y/n" he murmured on you skin, turning you around to face him " I know exactly what I'm doing and I've wanted to do this for a while now" your heart sank as soon as the words reached your ears, face still in shock as he giggled at you.

"what?" The only word that could form in your mouth.

"love, I've wanted you ever since I met you" he was smiling, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, as if he'd just been given the answer to something he'd been trying to figure out for a while. He moved a strand of hair behind you ear, kissing your cheek where the strand had hidden the skin.

His hands were still holding your waist firmly, but this time smiling down at your body, making you even more nervous. But before you could escape and try to think through the things he'd just told you, he placed his lips firmly on yours. Stopping you from leaving the situation and putting a warm blanket over your mind that made you feel safe.

You had always felt safe with Van, and even though at this moment in time he had you on the edge, he was also that friend telling you it'll all be ok.

His lips were soft against your chapped, but he smiled into the kiss. Your mind so overwhelmed and nervous you couldn't help but focus, making sure you were kissing perfectly, no room for error. You'd dreamt of kissing him before and you didn't want to let him down and for it to never happen again.

But then he pulled back and you were even more scared. "Relax love, jump up" he guided you up onto your dresser with his hands under your ass. Your legs wrapped around his waist your arms resting on his shoulders casually.

He once again leant in and kissed you, this time softer, testing the waters and taking it slow. His hand tracing patterns into your skin soothed you and made you relax into him. Making you able to enjoy his touch, the way his tongue glided effortlessly against yours and how you seemed to fit together perfectly.

The passion grew deeper and so did your need for his touch, having been without it for so long.

[kimjoongs-main]

—all hallows eve ; pjs

member park jisung

genre fantasy au/fluff

word count 2.6k

warning(s) n/a

dia’s note finally we get to meet our resident bookseller! i was kind of on the fence about posting this since i’m not completely satisfied, but i’m learning to be less critical of my works so here it is lol, hope you enjoy!

Known for his flawless knowledge of each and every one of the books amongst the shelves, the young bookseller has certainly made a name for himself in the kingdom. He was undoubtedly adored by the locals and travelers alike—magical beings or otherwise. 

Meet the other residents of Wisteria

Jisung’s time at the bookshop first started when he was fourteen. His father, a very powerful mage, was unfortunately killed in the Great War when Jisung was only ten years old. His mother, a mere human, had left long before Jisung could comprehend who she was and what she was supposed to mean to him.

He was never given the opportunity to learn about her.

It wasn’t taboo, per se, for those born from magic to be involved with humans. But it was quite rare, and those who chose to pursue their desires for each other were often met with scandalized glares from both sides.

Jisung’s parents met at his mother’s flower shop. His father used to work for the Crown, and he had wandered in, seeking a bouquet to purchase as a gift. The Queen had just announced her pregnancy with her first child, and the entire castle was frantic in their search for a congratulatory gift. Knowing of her affinity for flora, Jisung’s father made his way to the kingdom’s renowned flower shop, not expecting to fall in love with the maiden hidden behind the leaves.

Because of the absence of any other parental figure in his life, Jisung had no other choice but to move in with his uncle.

Well, he wasn’t really his uncle.

The man in question was a good friend of Jisung’s father, a fellow mage, who also happened to be the owner of the town’s beloved bookshop, Novelty Novels. Unlike any other bookshop in the six kingdoms, this one had novels, novelas, and anthologies graced with magical properties—each unique for every book.

A tale about romance would be laced with a charm that would occasionally release a sweet yet bitter scent, allowing the reader to live vicariously through those who were unfortunate enough to be star-crossed lovers. A tale of mystery and wonder would occasionally have clues appear in the margins—subtle enough as to not give away the ending, but inducing enough to push the reader in the right direction.

Jisung wasn’t much of an avid reader, but he did take it upon himself to become familiar with every single book on the shelves: their content, their magical properties, and their location. He thought it would allow for a more efficient interaction with the customers should they need any assistance.

And it certainly made his life easier.

After an eternity and a half, Jisung finally finished bagging up the last few purchases. As soon as the door closed and the shop lacked any sort of physical presence, the young boy sighed. Too tired to leave his post, Jisung waved his hand in a circular motion and the sign on the door flipped, presenting the words–

Closed: Please come back tomorrow.

He internally winced at the thought of his uncle finding out he used magic without his permission. It was only a small amount though, barely substantial enough to cause any real damage.

He would be fine.

Leaning back on the counter behind him, Jisung reached over to the side  and gently caressed the soft, white lump of fur resting on the nearby windowsill. Said lump wriggled at the contact, moving about to reveal a pair of ears, a rosy button nose, and four wispy whiskers—two on each side of the nose. Jisung smiled, allowing the bunny to hop across his arm and settle comfortably on his shoulders.

He nuzzled his nose into her fur and sighed, eyes droopy.

The sun was just about to set beneath the horizon, and people in the square were beginning to light the torches outside their shops, blissfully unaware of the ashy clouds looming over them. Usually, the bookshop would stay open for a few hours more, but ever since Jisung’s uncle left for his trip, leaving the poor boy to run the shop on his own, he was given the grace to close up earlier than usual—much to Jisung’s delight.

With the extra time he had to spare, he would usually spend it at the Harrownight Inn and enjoy a warm, steamy bowl of Mark’s specialty soup. Or he would bring his bunny, Mabel, to Chenle’s menagerie and let her play around with his creatures.

Crack.

Jisung flinched, skirting away from the window sharply. Mabel, who had just begun to doze off on her owner’s shoulder, was positively perplexed as she hopped onto the counter, foot thumping loudly on the wood to express her indignation. Jisung muttered a soft ‘sorry’ and gently patted her head, letting his fingers run over her silky fur.

He heard shouts and complaints from outside and walked over to the door, peering through the clear glass. Large droplets of rain poured down on the streets, slamming against the cobblestone pathways and soaking the front of the other shops. Jisung snickered when he saw Jeno a few feet away. The poor baker was frantically scrambling to open the door to the bakery—all while balancing a tray of pastries on his other hand.

Jisung shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and stepped away from the door, moving toward one of the chairs in the back of the shop and plopping down on it. The sound of quiet, yet rhythmic, pitter-patters followed, and soon Mabel was clambering up Jisung’s leg. Her owner chuckled as he bent down and carefully scooped her up in his arms, resting her against his chest.

“It looks like we’ll have to visit Chenle some other day,” he sighed.

— — —

You cursed under your breath, feet picking up speed as you darted through the empty streets. You frantically tugged your hood over your head, pulling it so that it covered half of your face.

The rain was beating down hard, and you instantly regretted not accepting the lovely tea owner’s offer to stay in her shop and wait for the rain to pass. You had simply bid her farewell, darting out of the shop and bumping into a few individuals during your hasty exit.

The inn was at the other end of the square, but you could barely make out the path ahead of you—hidden behind a dense veil of fog. At this rate, you’ll end up back at the inn with more bruises and scratches than when you first came.

Choosing safety over comfort, you dashed to the nearest shop, seeking refuge underneath the awning. Sore and tired from holding your hood up, your arm fell limply at your side, and you collapsed onto the wooden door behind you. Tiny droplets of rain dripped down your fingertips and into the puddle next to your feet. The cobblestone streets were absolutely drenched, and you internally winced at the thought of what would’ve happened if you had kept running.

Most of the townspeople had already retreated into their shops—not a single person left wandering the streets. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes flitting over the sign above the door.

Novelty Novels

You recognized the name—a few of Renjun’s spellbooks and Mark’s recipe books were tagged with it. Taking a closer look inside, you spotted rows upon rows of bookshelves—lined in neat, straight lines starting from one end of the shop to the other. The shelves were completely stocked with books of all genres and sizes, leaving no room in between. The lamps in the shop were still flickering, so you softly knocked on the wooden door, hoping that someone was still inside and they would let you take refuge until the rain cleared.

You waited for a few seconds, eyes darting back and forth, checking to see if there was a person walking up to the door.

You, however, certainly weren’t expecting that person (or not person in this case) to be a small bunny, hopping along the wooden floorboards. It appeared between a row of shelves, making its way towards the entrance in a zig-zag motion. As soon as it got close enough, you bent down and tapped the glass gently, grabbing the creature’s attention.

It traveled over to where your hand made contact with the glass and nuzzled its nose against. A tender giggle bubbled from your lips as you easily became charmed by the darling little critter. In fact, you were so entranced with the bunny that you failed to notice a pair of legs standing right behind it.

A tiny shriek sounded from your throat as the door was suddenly thrust open, sending you tumbling into the puddle right behind you. You winced at the feeling of water soaking through your coat and garments.

“Oh–I am terribly sorry! A-Are you all right?” A gentle, but firm hand gripped your upper arm, pulling you up from the ground. You patted down your legs, ridding your clothing from any dirt or leaves that may have gotten stuck to them.

In front of you stood a boy, whom you assumed was the store’s shopkeep, looking at you with the most concerned gaze. His eyebrows were pulled together, and his lips were set in a small frown. He had his hands hovering over you—not quite sure what to do with them. You took notice of the bunny that was no longer on the ground, but on his shoulder instead. Its eyes were peering curiously at you, and as if it shared the same sentiment as the boy before you, the tiny creature gracefully hopped into your own shoulder.

The boy gasped as he reached out, plucking the bunny off your shoulder and holding it up in front of his face.

“Mabel, where are your manners?” the young shopkeep scolded, lips set into a deep frown. His bunny, Mabel, just scrunched her nose up and proceeded to wriggle out of his grasp, landing gracefully on the wooden floorboards.

The shopkeep focused his attention back to you, bowing slightly.

“My apologies—Mabel is a very ‘act first, think later’ type of creature. Please pay no heed to her  unrestrained nature. It seems I have been quite lax with her training.”

You smiled softly at the conflicted expression on the boy’s face, reaching up to tug the strings of your coat loose. You neatly folded the fabric over your forearm, staying mindful of the dark, wet patch near the hem.

“No need to apologize,” you assured him. “I’m sure she, nor you, meant no harm.”

At the mention of what happened earlier, the shopkeeper’s ears flushed a deep red as he stiffly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ahh yes—I truly did not mean to startle you. I just wanted to know if you would like to come in.” He gestured to the ongoing cascade of rain hitting the streets. “I doubt being out here is anything more than pleasant.”

You laughed breathlessly, running a hand through your damp hair.

“I certainly would appreciate that, thank you,” you said kindly. The shopkeeper smiled back (albeit not as enthusiastically) and motioned for you to enter.

Once the door was shut, you released a sigh of relief, grateful to be surrounded by the warmth of the shop. You took a quick peruse of the interior, enthralled by its cozy and inviting atmosphere. The ceiling was coated with intricate designs, swirling and curling over the dark wood as it traveled down to the floorboards. The twisted staircase in the back of the store was almost obscured by the rows of shelves, but you didn’t miss the array of flora weaving in and out of the bars and railings.

(If you had looked close enough, you would have noticed the way they shimmered under the glow of the lamplights.)

Directly in front of you, in the midst of all the literary clusters, was the front desk. The surface itself was clean and polished, but judging from the pile of novels and documents peeking out from behind the desk, you saw it as a product of hastiness and the desire to clean. You slyly glanced over at the young shopkeeper, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You couldn’t fault him for that—you were the same way. The haphazard pile of paintbrushes and parchments back at the inn served as a testament to that statement.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the shopkeeper began, wringing his hands together nervously. “But you’re taking residence at Harrownight, correct?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and tilted your head to the side.  “How did you know?”

“I saw you chatting with Mark when you first came in,” he said. “When I noticed you crouching outside my shop, I recognized your face and that’s why I let you in.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So are you saying that if you hadn’t recognized me, then you wouldn’t have let me in?”

The words sounded accusatory, but there was hardly any real bite to them. You just wanted to observe his reaction, finding yourself instantly charmed by his innocent nature. You bit back a giggle at the way his eyes widened comically at the statement. He brought his hands up, waving them back and forth in an attempt to defend his case.

“N-No, of course not! I was just trying to–”

You held your hand up, effectively cutting him off. Gentle laughs tumbled from your lips.

“It was merely a jest,” you assured. “I appreciate the hospitality. I’ve noticed it’s quite common amongst you kingdom folk.”

You thought back to your first encounter with Mark, and the way he did everything he could to ensure you were comfortable. Even Renjun, with his snarky persona, was thoughtful and considerate in his own way; you vaguely registered the light weight of the salve in your satchel.

The shopkeeper finally smiled, a genuine one. “Yes, we take pride in making sure that travelers have a pleasant stay in the capital. It can be quite burdensome for those from the countryside to adapt to a bustling city like Wisteria.”

He peered at you, big brown eyes shining with curiosity. “Speaking of, where exactly did you journey from?”

It was a question you should have expected—you were a traveler after all—but that didn’t make answering it any easier. If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you were blessed to be in the comfort of a home, your own or otherwise. After the Great War, thousands of people and creatures were left unsupported and had no choice but to leave. They became aimless wanderers traveling through the country in search of a purpose once again—you were one of them.

You didn’t have a simple answer, so you took the easy way out.

“I’m from the East.” You smiled warily. “My family and I lived on the outskirts, a few miles from Aurora.”

The shopkeeper’s face dawned in understanding, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Ahh yes, Aurora is a wonderful kingdom. Well, I hope your stay in Wisteria is more than enjoyable.”

He leaned in closer, bringing his hand up cup around his mouth, resembling the image of gossiping maidens in the corner streets.

“And please do not hesitate to come to me if Mark’s service is anything but adequate. I will make sure he hears it from me.” The young boy finishes off with a wink, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

He stuck his hand out sharply, scrunching his nose up endearingly. “I’m Jisung, pleased to make your acquaintance. And uh, well you’ve already met Mabel.”

You took his hand in yours, shaking it. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m Y/n.”

You were fairly certain this wouldn’t be the last time you stepped foot into the shop.

[spideeysense]

It started with a roll: A Royal!Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.(Part 2)

A/N: Hey all! I am so happy to present to you the second part of It started with a roll! This is a slow burn fic, so don’t expect too much romance right away, however I did dabble in it a bit in this part. As this is my first time writing a slow burn piece, feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Also I have started a taglist so please comment or message me if you would like to be added to it! 

Word Count: 2k (or a little above) Sorry that this is short than the last one! I’m trying to keep is suspenseful! 

Warnings: Mentions of partial nudity, a dab of violence (very minimal).

The next few days passed uneventfully. A few nobles came in and were discussing their outfits for the ball, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop. It was a masquerade, apparently. How fun and mysterious. You were sure Bucky had chosen the theme. A smile graced your lips as you thought of him. 

What am I doing? You thought. Thinking of a soon to be married man…who’s the King! How stupid. 

Peter had dropped by once again, with a formal letter, asking for your presence at the palace the day of the ball, so you could bake the rolls. And you tucked it away into your pocket, careful to keep it hidden from the others. The more your thoughts dwelled on the ball, the more you realized that it was going to be expensive. Maybe you could ask your friend the seamstress to make you a dress out of one you already had, but it’ll be pricey. You started saving tips on the side. This would be no cheap endeavor. 

 One night, exactly a week and a half before the ball, you laid in your bed, sweaty as one could be due to the increasing summer heat. You had rid yourself of your duvet, and winter blankets. You wore your summer sleep dress, thin and almost translucent. It was the only thing that kept you cool enough to sleep. 

As you started to drift off, a soft tap jolted you awake. You sat up in your bed and lit the small oil lamp on your bed stand. The tap came  again, and again, and again. It seemed like it was coming from your window. Cautiously, oil lamp in hand, you moved towards the window. Even through the glare of the lamp you could clearly make out a figure. For a moment,  you stood still. Your heart was racing in your chest. Until you started to make them out...it was...Bucky? Bucky was clad in a dark blue cloak that partially obscured his face, and simple garments. He was sitting hunched on your small balcony. 

Quickly you unlatched your window and held it open for him. “Bucky?” He smiled at you as he haphazardly landed in your house with a loud thud. He cringed at the sound. “Sorry,” 

You stared at him in awe as he removed his cloak and placed it gently on the back of a chair. 

“What...are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“I came by for a visit.” Bucky chuckled as it was something that happens all the time. 

“But you're the King.” You said bluntly as you lit more lamps. “Why are you actually here?” A pang of guilt passed through you as you suggested he had ulterior motives. 

He seemed unbothered by your question. “Do you have any more of those scones?” Bucky said, removing his jacket and placing it next to his cloak. 

“Scones?” You asked in disbelief and scoffed. “Yes the peach ones-no the apricot ones.” He confirmed as he leaned against the wall. 

“Uh-let me check. Here come with me,” You motioned at him to follow you as you left your bedroom. You could hear Bucky’s feet touch the ground, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

“Don’t worry about being quiet, I’m sure you already woke the neighbors up once you decided to fall into my bedroom” you quipped and smiled when you heard him chuckle.

Entering the kitchen you lit a big oil lamp that sat right in the middle of your small table. It created a soft warm glow that danced off of Bucky’s features. You couldn’t help but stare. To distract yourself, you immediately started sifting through the cabinets looking for scones.

As he watched you look through your cabinets, Bucky realized what you were wearing. The soft haze of the flame illuminated your backside through your slip. A hot, pink, blush rushed up his body and onto his cheeks. Here you were ,unbothered, wearing nothing but a silky, translucent slip, in front him. The King. For a moment his jaw hung loose, and eyes stayed on you. And then he cleared his throat and pretended to be very into the design on the wall. 

“Is your wall made out of brick?” He observed. 

“What?” You questioned him as you turned around, and placed a small basket of scones on the table. Ignoring his questions you turned around once again, looking around for your pitcher of water. 

You placed the ceramic jug on the table and laid two glasses out. “My apologies for having nothing more.” You murmured as you sat down. 

Bucky waved his gloved hand as he took a seat across from you and picked at scone.

Staring at him in awe, the reality of the situation hit you. The king, the actual king was sitting at your dining table eating a scone at god knows what hour. 

“So why did you decide to visit me?” You asked him, your hands busying themselves with pouring water into the glasses. 

“Well,” He said through bites. “I used to do this all time, it’s how I saw my people.” He paused as he took another bite of your scone. “I would visit friends I had in the city, maybe party around a bit, but of course both of my parents were oblivious.” He chuckled as he continued on. “But with all this engagement shit, I’ve had barely any time to myself.” 

You stared at him silently as he told his story. “Now my only friends are Peter and Steve.” Bucky murmured before he downed his glass of water. 

“Well, you have me as a friend now.” You gave him a soft smile. 

Bucky swore his heart grew three times its size. He beamed at you like a child beams at a candy store. 

After that, the conversation flowed easily between the both of you. You talked about anything under the sun. Your favorite piece of opera, his favorite play, etc. etc. You asked him why he wore gloves all the time, and he revealed that he had lost his left arm from a military accident, and had been replaced with a metal prosthetic. A prosthetic that had been from the strongest metal, a gift from a faraway Kingdom. 

Bucky stayed even after the scones were finished, and he left when the sun started to peak over the horizon. With a promise he’d be back the next night. Dumbfounded at what had transpired you stared aimlessly out the window. 

The visits became a frequent event. Every other night Bucky would wait for you to let him in as he sat on your balcony. After a couple of days you told him to come after midnight, so you could at least get a little sleep. But that didn’t stop Bucky from coming. He would tap on your window until you awoke from your slumber. He would admire you as you started to stir and give you a big smile once you opened the window for him. Sometimes he would ask if you want to go walking with him, and you had no reason to say no. You would giggle to yourselves as you made your way through the empty streets of town. The sound of your shoes tapping the cobblestone street and your whispers hung in the air. Of course, you both stayed hidden. Large hoods obscured both of your faces. If a bystander was to look out their window, they would simply assume a couple was making their way home. 

 A scandal it would be if someone discovered the King-a mere few days before his engagement ball-with another woman. 

Every once in a while, when you would be talking and walking, his fingers would brush against yours. Or his steely blue eyes would linger a moment to long on your lips. But you always brushed it off. It was stupid to act on it these developing feelings. You had convinced yourself that this was simply a short term thing. Once he was married he would stop coming, he would have a wife, and soon an heir. It hurt you to think about it too much, as you had grown very fond of your time spent together. 

On the last night before the ball Bucky had snuck into your room again. However this time with a large package. 

“What’s this?” You asked him as he placed it on your bed. “It’s for you, a gift.” You were awestruck. 

The package was a white box, with a light pink ribbon, tied in a bow. You recognized the emblem of the King’s tailor. You gasped. “Are you sure?” Your hands grazed the top of the box. 

“Yes, I’ve never been more sure.” Bucky leaned against the wall and watched you carefully. 

Gingerly, you untied the ribbon and opened the box. You discarded the tissue paper gently and your jaw dropped at what you saw. Inside the box sat a beautifully intricate mask. It had gold spirals that surrounded it and little tiny silver stars dotted all over it. Underneath the mask, was an equally beautiful dress. You thumbed the silk fabric of the dress. From what you could see it was a rich navy blue color. 

“I can’t accept this,” You mumbled as your eyes stayed on the package in front of you. “It’s too much.”

“Of course you can,” Bucky said as he moved behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back, his head peeking over your shoulder. “I am allowed to give gifts to my friends.” Gently Bucky turned you around so you were facing him, he was much taller compared to you that you had to crane your neck to look at him. 

“I-” You stumbled over your words. “Thank you,” 

Bucky smiled, white teeth glistening in the dark glow. “You are very welcome,” 

He took your right hand in his flesh hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, and you heart start to pound. 

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night.” Bucky said his eyes never leaving yours. “Peter, will come here in the morning, to accompany you to the palace so you can start baking. I believe it will be quite a heft task, but I know you can handle it.” He said the last part slowly, almost a whisper.

And with that, he dropped your hand and rushed out the window, leaving you stunned in your place. Quickly you slipped the box and it’s contents under your wardrobe and flopped on your bed, you couldn’t help but smile up at your ceiling and squeal like a schoolgirl. You thought of all the festivities that were to transpire tomorrow, and maybe, just maybe would you be able to see Bucky. 

A tap at your window pulled you out of your reverie. Odd you thought, Did he forget something. Gingerly you opened your window, and audibly gasped when you felt a cold hand grab your wrist. 

“Don’t think for a moment that I am oblivious to the King’s infidelities.” The form hissed. In the dark you could merely make out the recognizable features of Astoria.  “Please, your highness I have no idea what you are talking about,” You pleaded with her as her grip on your wrists tightened, her nails digging into your skin painfully, you let out a soft yelp from the pain. 

“You think I’m stupid enough to ignore the fact that my soon to be husband, the King may I remind you, visits a stupid whore every other night?” She spat now both hands were on your wrists, pulling you closer to her face. “You are nothing to him, you are simply a plaything until he gets his priorities straight.” She continued her tirade of hurtful phrases. “He will fuck you and then he will leave as soon as he is weds me. After that, everything will be mine, including him.” She articulated as she pushed you back into your bedroom, letting go of your hands. “Know your place, slut.” Astoria spat on the ground as she disappeared into the night. Leaving you shaking and breathless, holding onto yourself. You shimmied yourself under the covers, pulling a sheet over your head. 

You didn’t care that it was hot in the room, you simply needed to hide. You felt fearful. And a concern for the King had festered inside your belly. 

Everything will be mine, including him. Played over and over inside your head. You told yourself there was nothing really to be concerned about, but still the weight of her words rested inside your body. 

Her words were venomous and malicious. It was simple a statement, but to you, it sounded like a warning. 

Hope you all enjoyed this part! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

taglist: 

@thefallenbibliophilequote​ 

[vannahfanfics]

One Good Turn Deserves Another

Category: Angst 

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Eri

Additional Tags: Vigilante!Class 1-A

Trigger warning for themes of child abuse!

Izuku’s lips were curled into a cold, smug smile as his bright eyes beheld the lofty penthouse suite displayed by the floor-to-ceiling glass panes framing the luxurious condominiums nestled between the beach and the sprawled city complex. Izuku perched on the balcony railing of the adjacent condominiums’ penthouse complex that he was currently sharing with twenty other young vigilantes looking to score a quick buck in the chaotic, unforgiving, cold-hearted world they lived in. They’d all seen terrible, horrible things that prompted them to turn their backs on society’s definition of “hero” and carve their paths. To this day, Izuku marveled at the miracle of their coming together to form one of Japan’s most notorious heist organizations. 

“Has she left yet?” Katsuki grunted as he strode out of the open set of glass doors. His heavy boots thunked against the smooth stone bottom of the balcony. Izuku’s emerald eyes remained fixed on the spread of clear glass several yards away, particularly on the thirty-something-year-old woman running a blow dryer through her voluminous brown hair. Izuku was mildly impressed with her haircare routine; even from the considerable distance, he could see the ripples of her hair gloss with the fluorescents’ unflattering light. Her bathroom was as large as the standard bedroom, but that didn’t mean the condos invested in slightly better lightbulbs. 

“Not yet,” Izuku responded without looking at his number-one partner-in-crime. “We still have fifteen minutes until her suitor is supposed to pick her up.” Katsuki only grunted in response, watching with disdain as the older woman smoothed nonexistent creased from the sapphire blue dress that hugged her figure in every scandalous way possible. Izuku could almost hear her six-inch-heels clacking as she exited the bathroom to cross through the walls. She disappeared into the bowels of the suite to head towards the penthouse door. 

“What’s this broad do again that makes her richer than God?” 

“She’s the assistant CEO of a software development company specializing in programming high-tech support items.” Indeed, the infamous burglars had targeted her after multiple magazine spotlights and television specials revealed her lavish life’s intimate details, down to a complete tour of her pompous penthouse home. The exposés had been mainly focused on her widowed status, chronicling her tumultuous rise to fame after her husband’s sudden death after only a few years of blissful marriage. Izuku remembered the bitter tears streaming from her eyes as she reminisced about her loving husband. The waterworks had cemented in his mind that she was the perfect victim for their newest scheme. 

Katsuki and Izuku both straightened slightly as the receivers in their ears buzzed with static. 

“Hey, hey!” Izuku could hear Denki’s broad grin in the fuzzy audio of the transceiver. “The John’s in the building and heading up to the penthouse.” Izuku pressed the respond button to answer, still crouching on the railing by balancing on his metal-plated boots. Denki always served as their mole, because his easygoing and sunny personality just lured people into a false sense of security so easily.

“Is it time?” Hanta called as he poked his head out of the open glass doors. 

“Almost.” Hanta stuck out a thumbs-up before vanishing into the room, shouting for Ochako and Mina to go out onto the balcony for Phase II of the rob-the-rich-lady plan. Ochako trotted out onto the lengthy stone structure, chewing on a licorice candy as she leaned against the railing beside Izuku. 

“If only I’d lived like that, life could’ve been so much different,” the brunette mourned sourly as she tore off a large chunk of the red candy and crushed it between her teeth with excessive force. Izuku laughed dryly with a nod of agreement. 

“I would feel bad because she’s a single mother, but wait until the world sees the reports of employee abuse we mailed into the news networks,” he laughed gleefully. Sure, they stole and occasionally beat people to a bloody pulp, but only people who deserved it. Many of the common folk revered them as a troupe of Robin Hoods, stealing from the obnoxiously wealthy and abusive to aid the poor and struggling. At least, that’s what many of them told themselves to justify their questionable deeds. Try as they like to harden their hearts to their bitter realities, sometimes their human sides tried to nose back into their lives. 

“She’s leaving,” came Denki’s quick report in their transponders. Izuku could hear girlish giggling and the baritone droning of a man in the background of the audio. Denki, disguised in a janitor’s outfit, whistled as stood with his mop and side-eyed them. “Heading up. Be there or be square.” 

“All right. Denki’s moving in to disable the motion sensors,” Izuku reported. Mina had joined them on the balcony, and she enthusiastically punched the air with her fists. 

“All right! Let’s bleed this bitch for everything she has!” the pink girl crowed. Izuku languidly stood up on the metal railing, balancing his center to stand at his full height with only the thin rail cementing him to the building. Ochako skipped over to touch Mina with her pink finger pads, and the girl immediately floated up a few inches from the balcony, giggling as she did so. 

“I can never get used to how weird this feels!” Mina trilled, laughing joyfully as Hanta pushed the back of her head to make her body somersault in the air slowly. As she righted herself, Izuku grabbed her gently by the elbow to drift her to the balcony rail. “All right! The Mina Rocket is ready to go!” she declared. Izuku grinned widely, then flung Mina to send her sailing across the gap between the buildings. The few patrons lingering by the pool failed to notice the pink vigilante floating in the sky in the dark fringe of the lofty condos. Katsuki snorted as Mina bumped into the window with a gentle smack. She hurriedly grasped onto the building’s thin stone rim before she bounced off. She hovered beside the building, staring at the red blip of light within the condo’s dark recesses that indicated the security system was still armed. 

“How are you doing, Denki?” 

“Me ‘n Yaomomo are almost in position.” Momo had also been deployed to the condominium, posing as a member of the cleaning staff. By now, the security officer should be passed out from a sleeping drought so their bonafide genius could replace the camera feeds with loops and replaced footage to eliminate the evidence of their involvement before it even existed. The video would show that Denki and Momo had gotten off on entirely different floors, when in fact, they would proceed to the penthouse to assist in the heist. No one would ever be the wiser that two moles had been planted in the staff. 

There was a reason they’d evaded Interpol, the Japanese Bureau of Investigation, and the Hero Commission for so long, after all. The young group of vigilantes dotted all their I’s, crossed all their T’s, and checked them twice. 

“The cameras are set,” Momo reported, whispering not to wake the slumbering guard. “The footage is good for about an hour. Let’s make the most of it.” 

“Almost done,” Denki hummed in the same channel. A faint crackling of electricity sounded as he essentially fried the security system controls. Faintly, Izuku could see the red light blip green. 

As soon as Momo and Denki reported in, Mina melted the glass with her acid, reducing it to a goop steaming on the wooden floorboards. Mina worked quickly and efficiently to carve a large hole into the window, then daintily stepped into the living room to tut at the blackened, smoking area rug. As soon as she safely entered the penthouse, Ochako released her Quirk, allowing Mina the land on the plush carpet and appraise the lofty home. 

“All right, guys, let’s move in.” Izuku used his Quirk to propel himself across the divide, bending the railing as he blasted off it. He’d bend it back later. He landed deftly in the center of the living room, clicking his tongue at the sheer obnoxiousness of the interior decor. It probably cost more than all of her employees combined made in a year. Disgusted, Izuku made a point to bend the metal floor lamp in half, exposing the wire to make sparks jump from the now-frayed metal pieces. While the others quietly used their Quirks to jump into the penthouse and Denki picked the lock so he and Momo could stroll in, Izuku set to ransacking the place to discover where the software mogul hid her stacks of cash. The others began pilfering everything valuable in sight; Tooru and Asui sprinted to the master bedroom, keen on scoring the jewelry the woman had been sure to show off in her many interviews. 

Izuku ignored the triumphant hoots and hollers as he meandered down a hallway. Just to be thorough, he opened the side closet, disinterestedly pulling out the Egyptian sheets of every color and numerous comforters to fling them into a pile on the floor. Nothing hid behind the cottony masses, and he almost abandoned the effort until he spied a suspiciously square seam in the wood peeking out. 

“Hello,” he grinned and crouched down to pry the false floor up with his fingers. Izuku had been expecting a hidden stash of cash or coins, perhaps a safe containing embezzlement or fraud documents. 

He was not expecting a pair of bright red eyes and a pale round face to be peeking up at him. 

Izuku froze. He blinked, and the pale face shrouded by the darkness blinked back. He continued to hold up the small nook entrance, oblivious to Katsuki stomping down the hall toward him. 

“Oi, what the fuck are you- what the fuck?” The blond hissed in a breath, making the small form within the crawlspace cringe in fright. With a flip of his index finger, Izuku bid Katsuki to turn on the hallway light. As he complied, the white light cascaded over Izuku’s hunched form to crash into the small space, illuminating a very tiny, disheveled little girl. Her red, puffy eyes slowly blinked as she regarded Izuku with a mixture of curiosity and fear. 

“Are you here to steal me?” 

Izuku almost lost it. Literally. He become so infuriated that his Quirk jumped out, sending red streaks and green lighting blazing across his skin. Clenching his teeth hard and breathing steadily through his nose, he managed to force his power back into control and give the little girl a strained smile. It was just so hard not to go ballistic and tear the entire penthouse upside down, because this was the most pathetic little girl Izuku had ever seen. Her white-gray hair framed her round face and her red eyes glittered like blood moons in the light. A little horn protruded from her forehead. Why the hell was this child locked in a crawlspace in a goddamn hallway closet while the penthouse owner gallivanted off on a booty call? 

“Yeah,” Izuku smiled pleasantly. “Yeah,” he repeated, convincing himself to commit to the radical change in plans. “That’s right.” His heart crushed in on itself as her eyes widened and she beamed brightly. She flung herself forward with a delighted squeal to wrap her thin arms around Izuku’s neck, burning her face into his sternum. The girl immediately began bawling loudly, spreading snot and tears all over the spandex of his suit. 

“Ungh… I… I’m so happy… I-I’ve been waiting so long for someone to know I was here… That I existed…” Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had no earthly idea she was in the penthouse, let alone related to the woman. “Mommy… Mommy locks me in here because she doesn’t want people to know. She hates me; she tells me so. She says I need to suffer, so I’m locked away to be forgotten. Just like everyone forgot Daddy, she says,” she blubbered between wails and cries. Izuku’s hands remained limply at his sides, too stunned with the cascade of events to properly comfort the girl. Her crying had attracted the attention of his cohorts, and they crammed into the small hallway to observe the strange happenings. She began to sob harder. 

“I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean to make Daddy go away. It was an accident. An accident.” She palmed her small horn, sniveling, and it took Izuku a few seconds to puzzle out that the little girl’s Quirk had likely manifested and killed her father. It wasn’t common, but certainly not unheard of. Children with powerful, uncontrollable Quirks posed real and present dangers. The girl sniffled as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Mommy says it’s my fault. She says that my punishment is to be locked away and feel what it’s like to be forgotten. She tells me that one day she’ll forget me too, and I’m going to die, all alone.” 

Katsuki began cursing profusely under his breath, sparks popping from his palms as his fury mounted. 

“This is fucking ridiculous; are we gonna fucking stand for this? This bitch has her daughter locked in a fucking hole in the wall and is out there schmoozing some fuckin’ asshole-! I can’t; I fuckin’ can’t, I need- Ooooooh…!” As he grew more and more enraged, he stomped off into a side bedroom and began flinging furniture around with his herculean strength. Izuku had regained some semblance of his wits, so he hugged the small girl tightly to his person and petted her long silvery hair. Suddenly, she blinked at him. 

“Wait… You aren’t here to kill me, are you? Did my mom… Did she finally…?” As her red eyes flooded with fresh tears, Izuku hurriedly shushed her and pressed his cheek against the side of her head. 

“No, no, that’s not why we’re here at all.” 

“That’s right! We’re thieves!” Tooru beamed theatrically as she jumped over, waving her gloves around ecstatically. The little girl’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head upon witnessing an invisible woman for the first time. “We’re gonna steal you away to happier life!” The girl’s eyebrows shot up, and she craned her head to look at Izuku. 

“That’s right!” he confirmed with a cheesy grin. “Stealing is what burglars do best, right?” The girl squealed as he hoisted her up with his hands under her armpits. Her little legs kicked happily at the sudden rush of air around her. With a smile, Izuku plopped her against him, one beefy arm hooked under her comparably tiny frame. Her little hands rested on his broad shoulder, and her bright smile illuminated the condominium better than the sun ever could. When a few more loud crashes, thumps, and curses drifted down the hall, she looked worriedly towards the room Katsuki had stamped into. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s just sorting out his feelings,” Denki laughed as he sidled up. “Hiya! What’s your name, squirt?” he asked as he playfully shook her hand. 

“Eri,” she giggled. 

“Eri! What a cute name,” Kyoka appraised with a nod. The others greeted her jovially as Izuku carried her into the living room. Her eyes widened when she beheld the overturned and broken furniture. 

“What are you all looking for besides me?” 

“What kind of burglars would we be if we didn’t take your mom’s money?” Shoto quipped monotonously as he resumed emptying drawers. Izuku flushed with embarrassment at the boy’s bluntness, and Eri screwed her face up into a frown. 

“Mommy isn’t a nice person. She takes money from the company and robs the workers; I hear her say so on the phone. She laughs about it.” Eri glanced concernedly up at Izuku. “What are you going to do with the money?” 

“Uh! Oh, um, we’re not gonna do anything bad,” he reassured as he strolled over to the gaping hole in the window. “We’re honest burglars. We steal from bad people and share it with good people.” It was true. They’d made anonymous donations to charities and underfunded schools and local businesses, built a children’s park overnight for a low-income neighborhood, and committed countless other good-Samaritan deeds. Of course, some of that they pocketed for personal interests and paying off essential figures, but hey, it was an investment for more heists and more good deeds, in the long run. At his explanation, Eri hummed satisfactorily and hugged his neck, her cheek squishing against his. 

“I see. That’s nice!” She then inhaled slightly as the wind whistled through the window, ruffling her hair and nightgown. Izuku smiled sympathetically as she gulped, peeking down at the ground so very far below. “Are we… Going to jump?” 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s how I came, you know. We can make it! I’m going to hold on real tight to you,” he reassured her jovially. Eri nodded slowly, rotating her head to peek back at his friends, who had resumed rummaging around the apartment. Katsuki had satiated his ire and stalked back into the main room to oversee the operation. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just finishing the job. They’ll probably stay a little while, because… Well, as we like to say, one good turn deserves another.” 

The tone in the room shifted immediately. It grew dead silent as Izuku’s unspoken order dropped the temperature of the room several degrees. His grin and emerald eyes were eerily bright as he eyed them over Eri’s head. “Right, guys?” 

“Right,” Tenya whistled as he picked up the sheets in the hall and began shredding them into thin strips of cloth. Silence descended as the vigilantes began searching the penthouse once more, but their minds were no longer on cash and evidence, but something else entirely. Eri blinked repeatedly as she struggled to grasp the shift in the tension and gave Izuku an inquisitive stare. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Izuku smiled and patted the top of her head. “When tomorrow morning comes, everyone will know you exist.” Eri’s blood moon eyes widened as a big grin slowly spread across her round face. 

“Really? You mean it?” 

“Every word,” he promised. “You gotta swear, though, to keep a secret.” Eri nodded vigorously. “You can’t tell anyone about who rescued you. It’ll be a secret between just us, okay? Pinky-swear.” Izuku held up his scarred pinky, and Eri readily looped her tiny one with his, linking them in an eternal promise. “Good. Remember, one good turn deserves another. We saved you, so you help us keep our identities safe so we can keep helping other people.” With that, Izuku hugged her tight and activated his Quirk to once more spring between the two buildings. She inhaled wondrously as the wind rushed through her hair, and looked up to see the starry night sky after so long deprived of their soft, simple light. 

~~~~~~~~~~

As Izuku had promised, Eri’s story was blown wide open alongside the software mogul’s scandalous finances and business practices. Izuku and the others had left Eri asleep in the penthouse suite with all their documents and scathing evidence of Eri’s abuse and the money the woman had stolen from her business partner. They dropped an anonymous call to the police to inform them of the girl’s location, and then retreated to a safe distance within the city to watch the media massacre unfold. 

The woman was discovered first. She was brought out by police not visibly harm but clearly scared within an inch of her life. Being suspended from a penthouse with only a decorative chair and some Egyptian cotton sheets to anchor you to safety would do that to a person. Next, when Izuku and the others dropped the call, the flocks of the press began to babble theories as the police swarmed into the adjacent penthouse. They’d also given anonymous information to the news media, who immediately jumped on the tragic tale of the little girl. Eri’s eyes were huge as the cop carried her carefully out of the condo, amazed by all the noise and activity developing around her. Izuku could just tell by the teary smile on her face that she was thinking, They know I’m here. They’re happy I’m safe. 

When one of the reporters shoved a microphone into her face and demanded to know who her rescuers and mother’s assailants were, Eri just smiled sheepishly. 

“It’s a secret. I can’t tell. You know, one good turn deserves another.” 

Izuku grinned to himself, biting down on his bottom lip in satisfaction. 

Sure, they weren’t saints. They’d stolen, and assaulted, and publicly slandered plenty. However, seeing that little girl’s smile broadcast on the big screen for the world to see, ready to leave an arduous life behind her and step out into the light, reminded Izuku of why he’d turned to such an existence in the first place. 

Real heroes made real change through whatever means necessary. Because, as he said… One good turn deserves another, and one bad deed brings down righteous fury.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

[tomnhaz]

Sparkling Boy (H.O. x Reader)

Request: omg imagine trying to get the flitter off Haz’s face bc he can’t then you shower him with kisses

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nah just absolute fluff

Notes: plz let me know what you think !! requests are still open :)

btw this is based off of this post 

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You heard the front door open and shut over the sound of the television you had playing in the bedroom, indicating the return of your boyfriend from his night out with his mom. The two of them had gone to a Spice Girls concert, and you weren’t sure who had been more excited about it: Harrison or his mom, but it was definitely Harrison. 

As Harrison’s feet sounded their familiar thudding up the stairs, you reached to plug in your phone and place it on the side table. Just as you were leaning back against the pillows of your bed to wait for your blonde haired boyfriend, said drama queen burst through the bedroom door. 

“Oh! Tell me what you want, what you really, really want!” Harrison shouted, jumping through the door with his arms in the air, and the remote from the front room serving as his makeshift microphone. 

He shifted his weight to one leg and pointed to the spot where he used to be standing. “Oh! I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!” he sang, his voice going unsustainably high until it cracked. 

On the bed your face had broken out into a smile at the sight of your ridiculous, drunk, and dancing boyfriend in front of you. 

He swung his hips from side to side before he looked up and pointed at you.

“What I really, really want a zigazig ahhh.” he finished, his bright blue eyes wide and staring ahead at your own. Harrison winked at you and dropped his microphone. 

You released a shout and began clapping as you praised his impromptu performance. 

“Thank you, thank you”, Harrison smiled with a grateful shake of his head as he stifled yet another laugh. He brought both of his hands up and placed them on his chest, over his heart. Pretending to wipe away a tear from his eye, he announced, “Performing live gives me such a rush.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and let out a shriek of laughter, clutching the sheets on your bed as Harrison fell into a fit of giggles along with you. 

As the two of you calmed down, Harrison crawled up onto the bed and splayed out next to you. You noted the rainbow sparkles that still adorned his cheeks, which he had begged you to help him put on earlier this evening. 

Harrison reached over to grab you hand and intertwined his fingers with yours before bringing your interlocked hands to his chest and holding them there as his eyes slowly drifted shut. 

You let out a chuckled, “I take it you had fun, then?” you asked, stroking Harrison’s warm skin with your thumb. 

Harrison just hummed in response, his pink lips curling up into a small smile. 

If it was even possible your smile grew wider at the sight of the suddenly sleepy blonde beside you. The slight glow of the lamplight from the bedside table reflected on Harrison’s face. You frowned a little. As much as you wanted to let him sleep, because god he looked beautiful lying there, you cringed at the thought of that glitter all over your freshly washed white sheets. 

Reluctantly, you slowly started pulling your hands out from Harrison’s grasp, eliciting a protestful groan from the dozing blonde. 

“Haz, you gotta stay awake.” you smiled down at him as his eyes opened, their brightness hidden as he squinted against the light in the room. 

All Harrison did was mutter a few incoherent words, grab your hand and replace it on his chest and roll over slightly so that his shoulder blade was facing you. You could feel the steadiness of his heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt as his fingers clutched onto yours. 

You leaned over, resting your chin on his shoulder and immediately felt the warmth of his body radiating through you. It would be so easy to just bury your head in the crook of Harrison’s neck and to fall asleep to the sound of his soft snoring. 

But you had just washed these sheets this morning. The glitter had to go. 

“Haz, I know, I’m sorry.” you muttered against his shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the exposed skin from his bunched up sleeve. “But I just washed these sheets today, and that glitter will be a bitch to get out.” you whispered. 

You felt Harrison’s chest vibrate beneath you as he chuckled. His grip on your hand weakened as he sat up, but his hand was still loosely intertwined with yours as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his other hand. A bit of glitter rubbed off onto his thumb but when he tried to wipe it off it just spread further, and he held it out to you with a whine. 

“y/n, help.” he pouted, his bottom lip pushing out slightly as he looked up at you helplessly, the difficulty of the glitter being too much for his tired mind to comprehend. 

“It’s alright, Haz.” you giggled, grabbing the blonde’s hand and leading him off the bed and toward the bathroom. “We’ll get you all cleaned up and then you can sleep all night.”

“Can I hold you?” Harrison stopped in his tracks and looked up at you with tired, yet pleading, eyes. You reached up with your free hand and traced the sharp outline of his jaw. The skin there was warm and smooth, and you felt Harrison slowly lean into your touch. 

“Of course, Haz” you replied, your face flushing slightly pink. “But only if you come sit on the counter so I can clean you up.”

Harrison nodded begrudgingly, sliding off the bed. His fingers still wound loosely in your own, forcing you to crawl across the bed in pursuit of your stumbling boyfriend. 

Once in the bathroom, Harrison flicked the lights on before sliding onto the counter. The fluorescent lighting highlighted the rainbow sprinkled along his face. Your smile grew soft as you reached up to brush a stray curl behind his ear, causing a smile to creepy onto his face. You pulled your hands out of his grip, which earned a groan from Harrison. 

“Shhhhh, love. You’re fine.” you whispered, bringing both your hands backup to cup his shimmering cheeks. You frowned at the traces of a pout that were still evident in his expression. You pressed a soft kiss against his lips, reveling in their warmth. 

Harrison was eager to kiss you back, all thoughts of sleep and tired feelings completely forgotten in the moment. His hands found their way to your hips, slipping underneath the fabric of your t-shirt and grasping at the skin there. 

He moved his lips against yours with a lazy tenderness; sloppy but sensual. You smiled into the kiss and pulled away, resting your forehead against Harrison’s as you caught your breath and tried desperately to make the room stop spinning. 

Harrison’s eyes slowly opened and his piercing blue gaze caught your own and he looked at you with the love of a thousand suns. It was the kind of look that made your chest feel warm and caused your heart to flutter suddenly. The kind of look that made you want to forget what you were doing, crawly back into bed, and into Harrison’s embrace. To have him wrap you up in his strong, muscular arms and hold you tightly until morning. 

But the glitter.

You removed your hands from Harrison’s cheeks, traces of glitter coming off with them. As you pulled your forehead away, Harrison leaned in, his body aching for your touch. He whined once again causing you to laugh and rest your hand flat against his broad chest to brace him and keep him from sliding off of the counter. 

“Haz.” you broke the silence that somehow floated into the room. “We gotta get that stuff off of your face.”

You pulled away completely, turning your back to the temperamental blonde to open the cabinet that was behind you. 

If you were being honest you had no idea how to get that stuff off. You opted for a makeup wipe, and pulled a couple out of the box before turning back around to face a dazed Harrison.

His hair was unkempt, his cheeks had flushed slightly, and his lips were parted and a little swollen. All of this combined with the glitter that was still smeared over the rest of his face gave him an innocent glow. He reminded you of a small child, the way his normally shining, ocean-colored eyes were glazed over and hidden behind half-shut eyelids. 

“Oh honey.” you mumbled, a laugh escaping your lips at the current state of your 23-year old boyfriend. 

At the sound of your voice, Harrison looked up at you, a weak smile sneaking its way onto his face. You brought the wipe up to his cheek, the material cool against his warm skin causing him to flinch. 

“Sorry, love.” you winced, dragging the wipe along his chiseled jawline, the glitter slowly disappearing from his skin. 

Harrison’s eyes closed, partly from the soothing sensation of you wiping across his cheek, but mostly from exhaustion. You saw his eyes slowly drift shut and you smiled softly to yourself. 

You wiped gently across his nose to get the last of the sparkles. 

“Alright, Haz. You’re all set.” you announced, startling the blonde out of his dream-like state. “Oops, sorry” you whispered, grabbing Harrison’s hand and helping him climb down from the counter. 

“‘S alright.” he muttered, stumbling to his feet. His hands once again found their way to your waist, his body leaning against your own and his head resting lightly on your shoulder. 

You welcomed his embrace, one hand resting on his toned bicep to hold him steady and the other reaching up to run your fingers through his soft curls. 

“How about we go hop into bed, Haz?” you whispered into his ear before pulling away slowly. Harrison’s head lifted from its place on your shoulder as he began to nod. You ran your hand down his arm until you reached his fingers, intertwining them you slowly led him over toward your shared bed. 

Harrison climbed in eagerly, kicking his boots off before doing so. He wrapped himself up in the sheets, leaving only the tips of his hair out in the open. You giggled before walking around to your side of the bed and climbing in. 

You had barely flicked the bedside lamp off and settled into your pillow before you felt Harrison’s arms wrap themselves around your waist. You slid further down the bed so your head rested on the pillow and Harrison pulled your body against his own so your back was flat against his chest. He buried his face into your hair and let out a content sigh. 

“Told me I could hold you.” he muttered, his voice muffled against your hair. 

You chuckled, bringing your hand up to intertwine with his once again. You brought his hand up to your face and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, a smile breaking out on your face at the sound of Harrison humming contentedly beside you. 

“Goodnight, Haz.” you whispered, drawing yourself further into Harrison’s warm embrace. The two of you falling asleep to the sound of one another’s soft snores. Now this is what you really wanted. 

taglist and mutuals: 

@peachyosterfield @osterfield-holland-andcompany @peterparkoure @hollandsosterfield @naturallytom @sunshinehollandd

[redcrossroads]

Alone Is In The Past Family Is Now

@plaidsleep I’m your secret santa for @dgmsecretsanta2k19! Your prompts were a godsend and I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote. I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope you’ll have fun reading this~.

Also, lots of gratitude for the wonderful team hosting this event! Happy holidays everyone!

Summary: It’s Wisely’s first Christmas with his family since reincarnating. They’re a noisy bunch of eccentrics and while he loves them he’s not a fan of enduring the Christmas party Sheryl will force them to attend. Having accepted his fate as he doesn’t find any excuses believable enough to explain his absence, he doesn’t expect Tyki to kidnap him straight out of bed first thing in the morning.

„What’s the point of this?”

Snow crunching underneath his boots Wisely makes a face when smoke is blown into his face. The smell of tabaco is sharp in his nose, his sense dialed up quite a notch due to his genes. Another sharp breeze of icy wind ruffles his hair and he mourns the loss of his scarf shielding his forehead from the cold in this weather.

“Can’t you guess, Mister Lack of Privacy?”

“I don’t need to guess.”

He huffs as he tugs his hands into his pockets. Eying the people pushing past them with thin veiled annoyance. The thoughts tumbling inside the minds of these simpletons are nothing but a headache in the making. Huddling a step closer to the Tyki in hope of distancing himself from the on slaughter of people Wisely lets his lips curl into a smirk as he glances up at the man busy sucking smoke into his lungs.

“It’s not like you’re difficult to read. Your mind is an open book to everybody willing to take a look with barely any words written on the pages.”

“Careful now. I’m not above leaving you out here to fend for yourself.”

It’s a half-hearted warning at best. But it’s one Wisely choses to heed for once. After all the trouble the man went through to get him up and dressed for the weather without anyone noticing them sneaking away for the day when Sheryl would be out for blood since they would miss the Christmas ball he’s planned is enough of a gesture of kindness to mind his manners for now.

He’s grateful for every second he’s away from all the horrid Christmas singing Road will force the family to take part in. Itchy clothing far too formal for his tastes and Sheryl insisting he’d dance with Road to represent the family while ignoring the deafening noise of the upper class and the girls making eyes at him.

Tyki could have went out without him in the first place. Which of course doesn’t mean Wisely won’t be throwing him under the buss if his adoptive father comes looking. Or worse if Road came looking for them. Shuddering at the thought of what would be another tantrum of the painful sort, he tries to block out these thoughts.

“Are you cold?”

Tyki blinks, glancing down at him with outright amusement tugging up the corners of his mouth. The cigarette hangs between his lips, burning away in the cold winter air.

“No, just thought of what Road will do when she finds out we went to the Christmas market without her.”

Wisely grins when Tyki ends up choking on an inhale of smoke, thumping him on the back. He gets a glower in return before an arm pulls him closer around the shoulders, pulling him into a headlock as Tyki rubs his knuckles viciously over his head. He yelps in protest at the rough treatment of his hair, feeling the sting of his scalp.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

“Not so funny now, is it genius?”

Tyki drawls out as he lets up with his fist. The smug grin on his pale face tinted with blotches of pink from the cold is an irritating thing to see.

“Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

“Bugger off!”

Puffing out his cheeks Wisely scowls. The arm settling loosely around his shoulders is a comfortable weight but he has half a mind to shrug it off to show his displeasure. He glares at the people daring to send them dirty looks, wishing he could melt what little amount of brain they had without attracting attention.

“Next time I’m going to blurt out your embarrassing thoughts to everybody at the dinner table. Every single one. No matter how vile or dirty they are.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m not ashamed by pleasure.”

Tyki winks, taking out his cigarette before flicking it into the snow.

“I’ll tell Desire you love him. I wonder how he would react if I tell him how much his little brother thinks about getting his hugs—”

Tyki’s smile slips from his face. Dread in its former place. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Wisely’s grin is full of teeth. Tyki shakes his head, shuddering at the thought as he steers them into another direction. They take the left turn at the cross road, the Christmas lights getting brighter as decoration fills up the streets beyond the single lights they passed.

Ribbons of red hung upon small trees lining up the sidewalk into the market place. Ornaments of golden paper hung from the branches, flickering in the bright lights of the street lamp. A large tree stood in the middle of the place with a golden star at the top and little angels of wax fastened upon the pine needles. The bustling of people marching from one booth to another made the place seem crowded. Children were laughing, running around while throwing snow as they sung off-key Christmas songs and lullabies to the wind. The smell of sweetness coming from the central is drawing people in like moths to a flame.

Tyki lights up another cigarette.

“I’d say stay close to me so you don’t get lost but I doubt I’d be able to lose you with what you’re wearing.”

Frowning as he glanced down at his outfit Wisely raised a brow.

„Got a problem?“

„No,“

Tyki makes a face, lips curling as he blows out a cloud of smoke into the air.

“As long as I don’t have to wear one. I’m all for not giving a shit about appearances but that’s where I draw a line.”

“You’re just jealous the Earl made mine with more care than yours.”

The sweater is a deep forest green, knitted by the Earl. In the middle of the chest is a replica of his demon eye in monochrome colors while small pieces of glitter were stuck onto the center. It’s warm and comfortable and it’s the first piece of clothing made for him by another person.

He wears it with pride.

“It’s hideous.” Tyki says, disgust wrinkling his nose and Wisely sticks out his tongue as they observe the people wandering about.

“It’s perfect.”

He’d never make the Earl sad by refusing to wear his gifts. The others ought to follow his example. It’s not as if the twins could look any more horrid with their makeup than they do now.

“Fine, fine.”

Flicking away ash as he draws his arm away from Wisely’s shoulder to brush his hair away from his face with his free hand, Tyki holds out his hand.

“Let’s go. We can’t stay in one place for long.”

“Really?”

Letting out a sigh Wisely narrows his eyes at the offered hand but takes it into his own nonetheless. Lean fingers curl around his own with surprising strength before their joint hands are tugged into the pocket of Tyki’s coat to keep them warm.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re my nephew. Can’t have you running off now, can I?”

Not waiting for an answer Tyki drags him towards the masses of noisy people buzzing around not unlike a stingy wasp out for a fight. Wisely scowls as people brush past him, their shoulders nudging him to make space for themselves. Giving them the evil eye, he tries to block out the mindless noise.

“We should buy some sweets for Road.”

He offers, squinting at one of the booths selling candy. Knowing her it’d make little difference to the crime they committed in not taking her along with them but her temper tantrum of violence would be softened a bit with the peace offering. Perhaps enough bribery will get the job of distraction done and he’ll manage to make it to the Earl’s bed to hide for a nap.

“Good thinking. I knew I took you along for a reason.”

The praise falls flat in the face of teasing. Not appreciating being treated like a dog Wisely digs his nails into Tyki’s palm hidden from view and relishes in the wince the man gives.

“More like dragged me straight out of bed to kidnap me.”

He mumbles into his scarf warped around his neck instead of his head knowing a turban would attract too many stares in the streets.

People would take a second glance at that, but not at a starving child begging in the streets.

Humans really are the worst sort of sinners.

His line of thought is interrupted as Tyki rolls his eyes, tugging him to stand in line at one of the booths. The chatter around them fades into static noise as he focuses his attention on Tyki’s voice.

“By the time you managed to get your ass out of bed Sheryl would be breathing down our neck.”

“That didn’t mean you had to yell to wake me up.”

The perks of having a soundproof room for his headaches could also be a curse. Wisely’s not planning on letting go of that. As soon as the holidays are over, he’ll get revenge.

“Be thankful I didn’t pour water over your head.”

Wisely opens his mouth to reply but their conversation is cut short as they’re at the front of the line. Tyki buys a variety of sweets, from chocolates to Christmas crackers and roasted almonds and cookies.

“Do you want anything?”

“Not from here.”

The plump man behind the counter twitches at his rudeness but doesn’t comment on it as Tyki stuffs the package of sweets into his other pocket and walks off with him in tow.

Snow beings to fall and the children near them stopping in their giggling to shriek in excitement.

Wisely grimaces at the sound.

“C’mon, let me treat you to some hot chocolate.”

Tyki seems to notice his worsening mood and the beginning of the headache forming. Offering no protest Wisely finds himself holding a steaming cup of pure sweetness as the woman behind the counter of another booth coos at the apparent act of kindness.

“Is that your son?”

“Afraid not, Miss. He’s my nephew.”

Tyki sighs as he crushes the butt of his cigarette with his boot, looking like he mourns the loss of nicotine on his tongue. Wisely scowls, sullenly sipping on his drink as he watches Tyki lean against the counter to chat up the woman.

Cupping both hands around the hot cup, he buries his nose into his scarf, narrowing his eyes in impatience.

He manages another five minutes as he lets the chocolate coat his tongue and chase away the chill of winter before the high sound the woman produces with her laughter grates on his nerves and he clears his throat. The snow flakes landing inside his cup make the appeal of a hot drink tasteless.

“You’re wasting your time, uncle, not only is she married and thinking about cheating on her husband, she’s also got another guy on the side. I doubt you’d want to catch the disease she’s worrying about either.”

“Why you little—”

“Alright! That’s enough, let’s go.”

Tyki spins him around, taking his shoulders before shoving him as far from the spluttering women yelling curses their way as he can. Cup flying from his hands Wisely lets himself be pushed along a safe distance until he digs in his heels.

“You’re annoying when you’re grumpy.”

“Your flirting is tacky. You could have done that at the party as well. But you dragged me out into the cold with the promise of a good time. All I see are noisy brats.”

Tyki frowns, still holding him at the shoulders but facing him now. They ignore the curious glances from the passersby with ease. His brows furrowing as he looms close before he nods and pulls away.

“Do you have the medicine from the Earl with you?”

“No,”

Wisely whines, the throbbing of his skull not easing up with all the noise around. He tugs at Tyki’s coat sleeve.

“You dragged me out the door before I could get them.”

It’s no secret he’s prone to headaches with his demon eye. But unlike last time, this one came didn’t come from a fight but from an overload of mindless information spinning around his ears. The cold doesn’t help. He wants his bed, warm and save and quiet. Maybe with the Earl’s squishy form hugging him close. It’s been far too long since he’s had this family, so he’s not ashamed off his neediness.

Even if it can be a bit too much from time to time. He’s getting used to the new personalities trying not to get them mixed up with the old ones he knows and the fact he was the last to join the party of their siblinghood stings inside his chest.

“I guess this time I’ll take the blame. Is there anything I can do?”

While the question sounds exasperated Tyki’s eyes are a soft amber, the frown on his face full of barely concealed concern as he reaches out to brush off the snow on his shoulders and head. Hands running through his hair, gently messaging the scalp, it does little to help with the sharp pang of pain inside his mind.

“Got the short end of the stick as the only Noah likely to suffer from headaches of all things.”

“—Then again, maybe I should’ve asked before I dragged him along.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise…”

“…wanted him to have a good time.”

“Instead of hiding away and boring himself to death at some sleazy party—”

“Can’t stay holed up in his room all the time—”

“Not really. I’ll let you know if I can think of something that’ll work other than the Earl’s medicine.”

He offers a wry smile, cheeks flushing a bit at the thoughts he’s read. Warmth chases away the biting cold and gratitude blooms in his chest at the thought of no longer having to spent his time rotting away on the streets. Tyki blinks at the change in his mood, narrowing his eyes before he grins.

Wisely startles as he’s pulled along the streets with no warning. They leave the Christmas market behind in favor of Tyki dragging him along and for a moment, he thinks Tyki must have seen Road or another member of the family to flee at such a quick pace.

It’s not the case when Tyki takes a sharp turn after several streets, drags him forward and trips him face first into a pile of snow.

“Cold things can cure headaches, don’t they?”

Throwing a snowball in Tyki’s laughing face is Wisely’s answer. His laughter is cut off as he gets a mouthful of snow and Wisely doesn’t hesitate in scooping up another one to hurl it at the man. It hits him in the throat. Tyki hisses at the sharp sting of frost before he offers a feral grin.

“You’re going to regret that.”

It’s a threat and the next snowball Wisely throws goes straight through the man.

“Shit.”

Tyki chuckles, eyes gleaming as they crinkle with mischief. A grin stretches across his face from ear to ear and Wisely flinches at the sight.

“Oh yes. Let’s see how this will work out for you, smartass.”

“Hold on, that’s cheating!”

Wisely is running across the open field they managed to find, scarf becoming loose and flying over one shoulder in the breeze. Warm puffs of air cloud his vision as he pants from the exercise, cursing as he hears the crunching of footsteps in the snow behind him come near.

“Too bad for you I’m an expert cheater.”

Tyki shouts, tackling him into the snow. Wisely shrieks as he faceplants into the coldness. Tyki’s weight on his back is heavy and warm and no matter how hard Wisely buckles and tries to crawl away the man doesn’t move an inch. He kicks out when a hand dumps snow on his head, rubbing it in as his face is pressed onto the ground.

“Get off me!”

“Or what?”

Good question. Wisely grunts as snow slides down on his back.

“I’ll make your head explode!”

Tyki pauses. His voice is uncertain when he speaks and Wisely doesn’t have to try to read his thought to deduce what he’s thinking.

The weight on his back shifts nervously. “Can you actually do that?”

“Are you willing to find out?”

He spits out through clenched teeth, lashing out with a fist. He gets Tyki right in the side of his throat. The man chokes, hands flying up to shield his neck as he topples off of Wisely’s back to the side. Rolling over, so he’s lying on his back he waits until Tyki’s wheezing for air is down to normal breathing again.

Minutes pass as they lay in the snow, letting it soak through their ruined coats. Over their heads is a blanket of grey, shielding what little sun might’ve shined through the dark clouds from sight. Snow continues to drift to earth, melting upon making contact with their skin as they breath invisible clouds of hot air into the early morning breeze. Their chests rising with each beat of their former excitement of a chase.

Wisely nudges Tyki’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Tyki asks, pursing his lips as he turns his head. His hair is curling at the edges, framing his face in a wild fashion from the row they had. Pale skin pink and glossy from the water of melted snow he looks like a drowned cat with the way he blinks the flakes from his eyes, some clinging to his hair.

There’s a limit to obviousness…and you’ve surpassed it Joyd.

“I’m not spelling it out for you if you can’t figure it out yourself.”

Sitting up Wisely brushes the snow from his clothes. His sweater and coat clings to his back and the sensation of drenched clothes on his skin is disgusting. He wrinkles his nose as he stands.

“Not sharing what you know kind of makes you useless.”

Tyki grumbles as he picks himself up but there’s no bite behind his words.

“Sheryl will have a fit when he sees us like this.”

“I hope you haven’t crushed the candy for Road in your fall. She won’t be pleased if you did.”

Tyki blanches, checking his pockets with an urgency lacking all of his fine grace. Wisely smirks when the cursing starts, watching the man pick out crumbles of cookies with a look of pure terror on his face.

“Shit. I’ve got no money left.”

“That’s too bad. Good luck in telling her what happened.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he rushes down the street. He ignores Tyki’s shouting as he runs back to the main street, pushing past the people with barely a glance to see if Tyki is following.

His priority is getting to safety. His advantage is he knows Desire will look for Joyd first, which will give him additional time to make it to the Earl’s bed. A safe heaven where no fighting shall take place. An unspoken rule nobody dared to break.

Too bad Tyki won’t make it there in time.

Hours later under the bright lights of Desire’s over the top decorations with Road in his arms swaying to the beat of one of the cheesy Christmas songs she’s taken a liking to, red dress swaying from side to side, he sees Tyki walk in with a suit. His face twists into a grimace when Road winks and he scurries out of sight. Despite hating the formal clothes he wears, the people chattering around him, the stuffy hot air and the loudness of the obnoxious orchesta shattering his eardrums Wisely finds himself smiling.

“What’s up with that? You hate parties.”

Road’s eyes are brighter than the lights illuminating the room, a thing only happiness manages to capture and bring forth on her face. Wisely shrugs, smile stuck to his face as he sighs.

“Don’t make me answer questions you already know the answer to. It’s exhausting and you’re the only one here who knows anything aside from me. Playing dumb is more Joyd’s thing.”

“Already choose a favorite, I see.”

Road chuckles, lips twisting into a smirk that has him fearing she’ll stomp on his feet despite having the ability to see it coming.

“Tyki is rather endearing. I’m sure he’ll be willing to sneak away with you as soon as Daddy will leave him out of sight. I might be willing to distract him for you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Wisely.”

She chides as the music comes to a stop. Not giving him the chance to make a choice she drags him away from the dance floor, heels clacking with every step.

“I like seeing you happy. Family is special, you know?”

Standing on her tip toes, she plants a kiss on his cheek leaving a bright red mark before she skips ahead and clings to Sheryl’s arm. Tyki glances up and when their eyes meet Wisely rubs at his forehead, gesturing towards the double doors across the room with his head and gets a grin in return.

“Come Daddy, dance with me! Wisely isn’t feeling well!”

“Of course, my dear!”

Road’s a horrible liar, Wisely thinks fondly as Tyki plays along and they flee out the double doors so he might get some fresh air to feel better.

In the last few years he’s never felt happier.

[iamwhelmed]

Homesick: Chapter 3

This is where shit starts hitting the fan, ladies and gents... or at least starts the very clear, direct path leading right into the fan.

Summary: Raven finds herself carrying Beast Boy's child and struggles with the fear of losing him and the impending responsibility of being a mother; Starfire finds Robin in a precarious position with another woman. The two leave the tower to live on their own for awhile, just to figure things out. Beast Boy and Robin may be losing their minds, and Cyborg tries to keep everyone together.

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

She couldn't eat certain foods anymore, maybe even smell them for that matter. There was a list of things Baby wanted far, far away from Raven's mouth, and that list seemed to get longer every day. By the second month, she'd knocked: shrimp, pickles, meatloaf, anything fried, anything dairy-related, and much to Starfire's disappointment, mustard. By the third month, she'd stuck to eating toast and bananas.

She wasn't showing much, but she certainly felt like her stomach had expanded well beyond its normal width, and Starfire said that she could feel the bump when she hugged her. She wasn't looking forward to waddling everywhere, but at least the morning sickness had begun to subside. Starfire, despite being depressed, borderline out of her mind, was still warm to be around, and when Starfire was near, Baby seemed a little less willing to make her life difficult.

Somewhere in the first month, she'd nabbed a job at a bookstore that doubled as a hipster coffee shop. It was easy work, simple, and it didn't require her to move very much, which was good because Baby had started to use her bladder as a trampoline when it found her exercise excessive. People recognized her, more often than she'd like, asked her why she'd taken up a job when Titans Tower was pretty much government-sanctioned. She'd bestow them with her best glare, a look Starfire had told her "had only grown in ferocity" in the first trimester. That was enough to scare virtually anybody dumb enough to ask, and when it didn't, she'd concede and say "Saving up."

Starfire, on the other hand, was a very ditzy waitress, but nevertheless she was Starfire, and when people weren't starstruck enough to deal with the poor service, they were smitten enough with her to ignore the mixed up order altogether. She'd gotten a better hang of it come the second month, and by the third she did a pretty standard job. She liked her coworkers, and she liked the view from the second-story restaurant, where she could watch the sunset over Jump City. She liked her customers and she liked her boss (the feeling was a little more than mutual on his end, she was not naive to the way he eyed her when he thought she wasn't looking). She liked living with Raven and being at peace.

But she missed her friends.

She missed Cyborg's uproarious "BOOYAH", the way he could go on for hours about his newest inventions, the meals he cooked for the team with such love she swore she could taste it, and it made every dish all the better. She missed Beast Boy, despite not understanding what had transpired between him and Raven. She missed his giggles when he'd pulled a prank, she missed his jokes and puns and the way Raven shot them down. She missed how he and Cyborg would argue incessantly every morning over meat or tofu, and how they'd stay up easily past midnight beating each other at video games.

But most of all, even though she was hurt, even though she felt like somebody had strangled her over and over, leaving her just on the brink of death each time when she thought of him, she missed Robin. She missed his smile, warm and comforting, a smile she swore he reserved for her, because she rarely saw it elsewhere. It was the smile he gave her when he broke open her chrysalis, when he'd told her that he didn't care about how she looked. She missed the way he made her feel, the gentle way he'd kiss her, the way he placed his hands at her jaw and dipped down to brush his lips against hers, as though asking for permission. From there he'd grow more determined, and she often found herself lying awake at night imagining the passion, remembering how he'd press his forehead to hers and smile, how she'd nuzzle him before he dipped back down and captured her lips once again.

But then she'd remember long, bare, silky legs wrapped around Robin's, the way his arms shuddered and pulled that stranger closer in the cold breeze, remembered how his nose buried itself in an unfamiliar woman's hair. Then she'd imagine his lips on someone else's, more desperate than the way he kissed her, imagine the way he'd probably gripped at her hips, the way she'd probably clawed at his back, the way he probably breathed in her ear, whispered that he… loved her.

Then Starfire, she didn't have the strength to muster up anger. She could only feel empty, like there was a weight in her head that wouldn't go away and a hollow hole in her chest that reached down into her stomach. She wasn't hungry much these days, which was probably better for their pockets and for Raven's nausea.

The pregnancy, aside from each other's company, seemed to be the one constant that kept the two of them going. There was a goal in sight, and it was taking care of that baby until it was matured enough to join the world of the living. It was a relief that it was the one thing going right most days. Raven seemed healthy. Aside from the bump, the two of them had to go shopping, as Raven's undergarments were not quite fitting as they should anymore. The growing fatigue worried her, but Raven assured her that it was typical of a woman far along as she was. Most days consisted of the two of them going to work, often on alternating schedules (the difference between a waitress's schedule and a bookstore clerk's schedule were stark), before returning home at varying periods of the evening to eat and pass out on their respective beds. It wasn't a bad life just an- uninteresting one.

Starfire curled up under her covers, remote in one hand and her sheets in the other, pulled up to her chin as she waited with heavy anticipation for the return of her new favorite sitcom: "Meet the Grobgooks". That was not a nice word on her home planet of Tamaran, not that the people of earth would know; it merely added to her level of amusement. The channel had cut to commercial break, and Starfire was learning to feel the absence of the tower's recording system. She moaned and turnt her head back so that it thudded against her bedpost. "These commercials are most infuriating! I wish to see this week's conclusion, please!"

"Star, the only way these people make money is by selling you products," Raven glanced over the edge of her novel at Starfire's pouting face "and placing as many commercials as possible between one show and the next is how they do it."

Starfire's pout became more pronounced, then she raised her blankets so the bottom half of her face was hidden from view, eyes leveling the television with a heat matched only by the sting of her starbolts.

The fourth commercial faded in, a small suburban home in a quaint little city, grass as green as envy, house as big as a small southern estate, picket fence as straight as a line. "A house isn't just a house." Raven snorted, and Starfire yawned. "It's teaching him how to mow the lawn." It cut to a father on a riding mower, son in his lap as they slowed eased around their massive yard. "It's making messes, and the memories that come with them." It cut to a mother, long hair tied into the sloppiest bun, helping her little girl roll dough as they laughed at the flour covering their chins. "When you live in Jump City Greens, you're home." It cut to the family laying in bed together on an early morning, maybe mid-afternoon, soaking up the warmth of the sun and each other. They snuggled up together as they turned through what appeared to be a family album, daughter curled into her father's chest, son climbing over his mother's curvy waist to get onto the bed between his parents. Starfire smiled to herself, wondering if she'd ever, perhaps, have something so human.

Then the lamp exploded.

Starfire yelped and stood up on her bed, fist raised, though she couldn't find a starbolt. "Raven-!"

"Sorry."

Raven clutched her book to her chest, eyes wide as the bits and pieces of the lamp floated between them, hovering amid her black aura. Starfire raised an eyebrow. "Um… did you… do that?"

"I- I guess so."

"Raven…" Starfire lowered her fists, but raised an outstretched hand to Raven's retreating form, watching as she subconsciously inched toward the edge of her bed. The lamp pieces drifted to lay on the nightstand, aura diffusing slowly. "You are" she paused, contemplating whether or not she was about to be insensitive, but one look at Raven's face told her that nothing she said could make things worse "...crying."

"What?" Raven gasped, reached frail fingers to brush at the bone of her cheek, tips pulling away wet with salt. Sure enough, she felt what must have been the dam of her control breaking, because her eyes flooded so quickly with such vehemence that she was momentarily frozen in place. Somewhere behind her, the motel's complimentary hair dryer raised on its own, combusting in midair above the sink, which was quaking down below by the pipes.

"Raven! What is the matter?"

"I- I don't know! I can't stop it!"

The medicine cabinet slammed open, and the faucet head sprung clean off the sink. Raven took quick, shallow breaths, raising a hand to grasp at her chest. She had to calm down. Starfire cautiously jumped down from her bed, coming forward to press her hands to Raven's cheeks. "There must be something I can do-!"

"H-How can you help me w-when I don't even know what's wrong?"

Once again, her powers must have knocked the shower curtain clean off of the wall, because there was a loud clamoring from behind the closed door. The TV began flickering on and off, switching to a new channel each time the screen came back alive. Stop. Stop it. You need to have more control than this! "Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos... " Starfire kneeled down in front of her. "Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos." Her pillow lifted itself to the ceiling, vibrating for a moment before it exploded, showering Raven and Starfire in old and worn feathers. Raven winced, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. What could have possibly set her off like this? A villain with mind manipulation abilities? A drug dose hidden in the air with a complicated gas? "Azarath-!"

"Raven."

Strong arms pulled her into a tight hug, providing her body with an instantaneous warmth she hadn't known she was lacking. Her eyes bulged out of her head, snapping open as Starfire's natural snugness began to completely overtake her like a wall of crashing debris. Feathers dotted across their skin, brushed against their heads and floated on the gust of the air conditioner to the bed and motel floor. She shivered, and Starfire's hold tightened. Starfire rubbed her shoulder with one hand. "I am here for you. Please, do not hold back."

And so she didn't. Raven's eyes welled with a fresh wave, and part of her was disgusted because she thought the biggest crests had passed, and yet…

She shut her eyes again and buried her head into Starfire's shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of the shampoo they'd mutually decided was cheapest. It flooded her senses, breathed new air into her lungs, forcing out the air she hadn't known was stale. Starfire reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, detangling her thin strands carefully, gently. Raven huffed and her chest trembled, breathing staggered as her tears ran through the crevices of her lips. Starfire shushed her, but otherwise said nothing. Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but somewhere along the way, the television had turned back on and stayed on the original channel. The Grobgooks once again lit up the screen with their varying character molds, and the sink had turned itself off. Raven took a few more deep breaths, repeating her mantra in her mind like it was the only string of sanity she could cling to, though Starfire's arms stayed locked around her. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, slowly.

"Raven?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, was it perhaps the emotionally-targeted commercial that has upset you?"

"What? No, Star, that's ridiculous…" She muttered as she pulled out of Starfire's hug, but was it? She frowned and met Starfire's eyes. "Or maybe not."

Starfire's brows furrowed, and she tilted her head as she struggled to understand. "Perhaps?"

"Maybe it was the commercial. Now that I think about it, this is right around the time my hormones would be giving me" she grimaced "problems."

"So this is merely-?"

"My dear, sweet, unborn child messing with my emotions?" Her face read noticeably annoyed, and her tone was debatably sardonic. "Probably the most likely rationalization for a hormonal outburst."

Starfire took a seat next to her on the bed, folding her hands in her lap, giving Raven space; she was thankful for that. As it was, she was fighting the heat rising through her body with every fiber of will she had left, but she'd have time to wallow in shame later for her earlier display. "How are we to combat these hormonal outbursts?"

Raven sighed, and shifted so that her hands could run up and along her arms. She felt naked without her cloak, but the earlier intention had been to sleep. "I'm not sure there's anything that can be done" short of seeing a psychiatrist…

Starfire nodded, and the two fell into once again companionable silence.

Barbara nearly choked on the milk that came squirting out of her nose, and for a few moments after, she was left hacking. Robin raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what exactly she thought was so funny, but the small smile on his face betrayed him. She tried to smile back at him, but struggled with one hand raised to her now-leaking nostrils. After all, it was the first time she'd seen him smile in weeks. "I'm sorry, and he licked her face?"

"Well, it wasn't actually Beast Boy."

"But Raven still got licked in the face by a green shapeshifting dog?"

Robin chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

She lost herself laughing again. She was yet to meet Raven, but she had the distinct feeling, given everything Robin had told her in her stay at Titans Tower, that she wasn't a woman particularly welcome to such odd displays of affection. Robin laughed through his nose, taking a sip of his water bottle. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the towel slung around his shoulders, and she couldn't help but feel the whole scenario was a little deja vu. A memory, something that had long since passed. Robin seemed to pick up on her thought process, the way he always did, and gave her another smile. She wasn't sure which one of them felt more healed at that.

"So," they both jumped as Cyborg sat down at the end of the table, between the two of them. "How do y'all know each other again?"

"Uh-"

"We were-"

They both looked at each other, Robin tugging at the collar of his uniform, Barbara hiding her face behind her glass of milk. They both glanced away, unsure of how to answer. Cyborg raised an eyebrow, but seemed to take the hint. "Oookay." He dug into his sausage and eggs, glancing to Robin, who had taken to staring stubbornly at the (currently off) television, to Barbara, who had decided to look busy by messing with the milk in her glass and the way it slushed from side to side. A light bulb lit up in his head, and maybe a light came on near one of his circuits, but he kept the thought to himself.

The door to the common room slid open, and from the other side, Beast Boy padded across the threshold. Cyborg nearly dropped his fork, and Barbara had to keep yet another splash of milk from escaping through her nostrils with two fingers to her bridge. Robin's eyes widened behind his mask, and he had to clear his throat before he spoke. "B-Beast Boy!"

Pale green eyes turned on Robin, hiding part way between heavy lids and dark circles. He seemed to take a moment to process that anyone had said anything, but he grunted and carried himself over to the fridge "'Sup."

Cyborg managed to swallow the bite he'd taken of his eggs. "Uh, BB? How ya holdin' up?"

Beast Boy closed the fridge after finding nothing worth eating, instead opting to scrounge through their cabinets. "I'm fine." He laid a hand on what he was looking for, pulling out Raven's teapot. He pulled back and set it on the counter, moving to the other cabinets to find teabags. Robin turned around to watch Beast Boy cross the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as he began boiling water.

"Beast Boy, are you sure? You haven't been out of your room in… months."

"I've gotta agree with Robin, man. You ain't been acting yourself."

"I'm fine." Beast Boy said it with more finality this time, but there was no aggression there, just defeat, as if he were trying to convince himself and not them. "I'm just" he stood still over the teapot, as if contemplating, fighting himself, then reached into another cabinet for a mug. "I'm just getting on with it, like we're s'posed t' do."

Barbara bit her lip, mentally nudging away the temptation to say You can't move on until you've dealt with it, but it was not her place. These were not her people; they were Robin's, and he knew better than her how to handle them.

Robin frowned, eyes narrowing at nothing as he lost himself in thought. Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "Want me to check on their locations? Make sure they're still safe?"

"That's not gonna help." That's not bringing them back. They all thought it, but they collectively decided it was best to let those words die in the air.

Cyborg sighed, went back to eating his breakfast. Robin's eyes grew more alert again, like he'd snapped back to reality. "Whatcha' making there, Beast Boy?"

He didn't answer at first, too preoccupied setting up his mug and filling it to the brim with hot brown liquid, watching the steam flitter through the air as he blew on it. He clenched its handle with three finger and cradled it protectively with his other. He turned around to face the rest of the room, but kept his eyes on his cup and his gaze far, far away. "Herbal tea."

He took one swing at the boxing bag, hard enough to make it swing, hard enough to get him started. Robin swung his other fist next, then another. The boxing bag flew in every direction he hit, inertia swinging it to and fro as he wailed relentlessly on it. It was relaxing; it was what he always did when he was under stress.

And boy had stress loaded onto him like a tow truck.

He hit it again, but found himself unsatisfied with the small smacking sound he got in return. She grinded his teeth and geared his fist up to hit at it again, harder this time. It swung further left, but the sound still wasn't enough for him. He had to hit harder, had to push further. He began swinging recklessly, resting his fists only to incorporate his legs into the routine by kicking the bag nearly off the ceiling. The chain creaked against the pressure, but didn't give in. He gave it an uppercut, then a roundhouse kick, then a flurry of other inconsistent punches. He grunted as the bag swung forward with such speed that it hurdled back at him so fast he could hardly stop it. His heels slid, and taking the punching bag in his arms was like getting sucker-punched right in the stomach; he coughed at the sudden impact, but pushed it away nonetheless. When it came back around, he socked it again, hard enough that he swore he felt something snap, but he couldn't stop- he couldn't.

Maybe he already had.

The bag came back at him full swing, and he made a move to grab it, but didn't try to slow it down. It socked him again, hard enough that he barked, but he took the pain as it was granted to him.

He'd searched the tower for clues, scoured the whole place for any explanation he could get- another note, a ransom from an enemy, signs of a struggle, but all he came back with was the single note Raven left him and two empty rooms, once full of life and character, now dead like a museum's exhibit.

Starfire and Raven were not history.

He hung limply against the punching bag, taking steady breaths as he swayed with its weight. There had to be something he was missing, something that would clue him in as to why Starfire- why both of them- left the titans (left him), but they'd been thorough, thorough enough to hide from him. He grinded his teeth and let one weak fist pound against the bag, then hang flaccidly at his side. What kind of leader was he if he couldn't even help his teammates?

The door to the gym slid open, but he didn't even need to look up to see who it was.

"Dick…"

"I told you, Babs, it's Robin."

"Right, Robin. Sorry."

He had a feeling she was batting her big baby blues at him, and that feeling killed him. Just like it always had, just like it always would. He straightened himself out and took to removing his boxing gloves. "What's up?"

Barbara was silent for a few moments, aside from the sound of her feet shifting from side to side. Anxious? Guilty? He wasn't sure. "I just wanted to get our stories straight next time Cyborg asked us."

"Asked us what?"

"You-" she paused, and he could hear the disbelief in her tone before she sighed. "When he asked us how we knew each other?"

"We'll tell him the truth."

"Well that's the thing, Di- Robin." He turned around and found that she was closer than he thought she'd be, not close enough to deny him personal space, but close enough that he felt utterly naked in front of her, the way he used to feel around her when he was a little kid, when they were growing up together as sidekicks, as members of the bat family. He'd almost missed that helpless feeling, but he found that lately he'd been feeling a little too helpless in all the wrong ways. He mentally shook his mind like an etch-a-sketch, choosing to focus on what was happening right in front of him. Barbara gave him a small smile, but it was awkward, forced, not natural the way it had been since she'd dropped in on him unexpectedly in the middle of the night. "I need to know" she winced "what exactly the truth" she shrugged "is?"

He gave her the Bat look, not the glare that froze you to the floor by your ankles, but the scrutinizing one, the one that silently asked all the questions he didn't want to ask aloud.

She recognized this look, apparently, because she wrapped her arms around herself and looked everywhere but him. "I guess I just, ya know? Do we tell him we're siblings? Old partners?" She trailed off, nibbling on her full bottom lip as she gained the courage to meet his eyes. "Exes?"

He choked on nothing, eyes practically popping out of his head and his entire body tensed up at the mention of… that. The thing they hadn't talked about since she got here. Their past not as comrades, but as something more. The phrase echoed in his mind with an unfortunate dull ring, and he only barely swallowed the saliva building up against the dam that was his mouth before he began to speak. "Oh! Uh, heh, um… all of the above?"

Barbara crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"Look," he shook himself out of his stupid stupor, reminding himself that he wasn't the same boy he was in Gotham, that Jump City had been his home for years, that he was a leader now, and he had to act like it. "The past doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here, that we're" not like that anymore.

He too trailed off, but he could see the unspoken words registering behind those big marbles of blue, as bright as the ocean. He worried for a moment that was the wrong thing to say, that tears would start brimming in those eyes and he'd have to awkwardly find a way to fix what he'd just done, not that there would be any way to fix it. But Barbara just gave him a small smile, set her hands at her hips and watched him with a cocky kinda stare. "You didn't think I was…?"

His eyes bulged out of his head again. "No! Oh god, no! O-of course I didn't-! I- I told you about me and-!"

Barbara raised her hand, shaking her head at him like he'd completely missed the joke.

Which he might have…

If the joke was him…

Evenings at Titans Tower usually went down like this: Dinner, movies, dispersal for solo activity (video games in Beast Boy's case, repairs or time to create in Cyborg's, and training in Robin's), and then an acceptable bedtime. Usually took from five to nine. It was the normalcy they all clung to with their girls missing, and a night never really ended without a common eclipse of nostalgia and longing. But nights in the tower were usually pretty normal, the one time of the day where they could pretend two empty rooms were still inhabited, where for just a few hours, their world returned to normal.

Until the intruder alert started going off right in the middle of the movie.

"Titans! Go!"

He'd wanted Barbara to stay back, but she'd taken one scoffing look at him and stolen one of his masks to wear- just in case. The threat had appeared at the front door and had yet to move, but there were a million and one things that could have meant. Higher ground. Surprise. A distraction. The possibilities ran through his mind, thousands a second, as the four of them stormed down to the entrance. They raced out of the elevator with the anticipation of battle boiling under their skin. It'd been awhile since they'd had a fight to get them all out of the tower, this would be a welcome surprise.

Beast Boy shifted into a tiger, Cyborg readied his canon, and Robin stuck three batarangs between his fingers. Barbara was on the defensive, stuck behind them and prepared to throw her fists at anything that came her way.

The intruder stood at the front door, unmoving, as though they'd been waiting for the titans to collect before them- and they had been.

"Hey."

Beast Boy shifted back into himself, Cyborg's canon died before it could be used, and Robin's batarang-ready hand fell to his side. Before them, leaning against one of the walls of the entrance room, was Terra. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave them a half-hearted wave. "It's been awhile."

[leswansong]

Marichat May - Kitty Cats & Ballet Shoes

Day Eight: Mittens for Kittens

[ A03 ]

  Yawning Adrien sat up and looked around at his surroundings, he panicked a little before it died down when he recognised where he was. It had been almost a week and he was still getting used to waking up in Marinette’s small apartment. His phone screen declared the time to be somewhere just before noon meaning Marinette had already left for work, he sighed, he really wanted to spend some more time with her. Reluctantly he pushed himself out of the large and surprisingly comfy bed, Plagg was most likely already up and eating through the small amount of cheese Marinette had bought the night before.    His lungs burned slightly but he ignored it and he felt around for his laptop and folder. Running across the rooftop the night before had been a terrible idea but he really couldn’t go another day without them especially because he stupidly made a deal with Marinette. He couldn’t believe how in his injured state his head thought that was a good idea; now he had to factor her into his somewhat well-crafted plan, all he needed was the safe which he found four nights ago.

   Clutching his side, he stumbled into the tiny kitchenette, most of the pain had gone but occasionally it came back with a vengeance and today seemed to be one of those days. He took things slow and grabbed the oats that Marinette had used to make porridge the day before. He had paid extra attention so he would remember it when he returned home, the only thing he had to remember right now though was to not overcook it.

   He poured what he estimated was a cup of oats some milk and a little bit of water into the small saucepan before he realised that Plagg hadn’t come over to beg for more cheese.

    Frowning he called out for the tiny cat, “Plagg?” Silence filled the air as he waited for a response. “Where are you?” he muttered to himself.

   He really wanted to know where his Kwami was since this wasn’t his home and he had already found a number of things broken that he would have to replace.

   When Plagg didn’t appear or say anything in response to his call Adrien grew worried, he called the Kwami’s name again but still didn’t get a response. Adrien groaned and poured his slightly overcooked breakfast into a bowel, he left it on the counter as he started snooping around Marinette’s apartment for his mischievous Kwami, he took extra care not to disturb or bump anything out of place.

   He walked past the bathroom door and couldn’t help but peek in to see the playful bunch of kittens. The calico one he had nicknamed Shadow because she followed him everywhere, meowed excitedly at the sight of him and came running towards him. Regretfully he pushed her and two of her brothers back into the room, he didn’t have the energy to chase them around the house like he did the day before.

   Returning to his search he called Plagg’s name just loud enough that the Kwami had no excuse for remaining hidden. He reached Marinette’s bedroom door, he hadn’t seen inside it yet because he didn’t want to invade her privacy. His hand found the round metal doorknob and slowly he turned it, his gut was telling him that this was wrong but he pushed it aside as a blast of cold air hit him the moment he stepped into the room.

   Shivering slightly, he hissed his Kwami’s name as he scanned the room. His eyes picked up on the faint outline of her small bed and twin bedside tables, he carefully made his way over to one and tuned the small lamp that sat on it on. It illuminated the room with a soft yellow glow, she had a very small dresser sitting just under the only window in the room over on the other side of the bed it had a few keepsakes atop it but he elected to keep his hands away from them. There were no pictures on the wall, the only colour came from her bedspread and the small group photo on the other bedside table. He dove across the bed for the picture, he gritted his teeth and swallowed the pain and chuckled slightly because it was only a picture of her and her parents and some of her friends that he knew the name of. Marinette looked happy, extremely happy, he held back the slight fit of jealousy that staring at all the happy faces, he wanted memories like that, he wanted to be surrounded by a close-knit group of friends. Adrien put the picture back after running his clawed finger across her face one last time.

   He stood up and tried to leave but something kept him in place, his eyes floated over the room one last time before his legs decided to finally follow his commands, his stomach growled and he wished he hadn’t left his breakfast in the kitchen. He closed the bedroom door behind him making sure that it was closed before he entered the kitchen to swipe his now cold breakfast off the bench. Switching the TV on he sat in front of it, his chest burned from the constant movement and from jumping onto the bed, he leaned forward to pick up the remote wishing that he had changed the channel beforehand as the pain got worse for him. His lungs heaved in relief, he slumped back and waited for the pain to dull again so he could watch whatever he had changed the TV too in relative peace. His eyes grew heavy and slowly he fell asleep with his half-eaten breakfast still in his lap.

   His sleep was dreamless, he really didn’t want to be asleep but he couldn’t wade his way through the calm waters of sleep fast enough, the shores of consciousness drifted further and further away from him. Plagg’s distant voice echoed across the water, calling to him, his ears only just picked up on the urgency in the small cat’s voice, it pushed him to try harder, to push himself to reach the shore.

   “Kid,” Plagg’s voice echoed, “The words, you need to transform.”

  Adrien paused on the water, he was only a few feet away from the shore but he nodded his head and yelled the transformation phrase for Plagg. He felt the wind get sucked out of him as the words magically pulled his closer to the shore. The sun rose high across the darkened starless sky, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, they slowly started to focus on his surroundings. The cat ears atop his head swivelled around to the front door as Marinette’s keys slid into the lock, he pulled the metal baton off his back so he could stand, his bones cracked at being ins such an uncomfortable position for so long. He snatched the bowel of the seat beside the one he was sitting in, glad that it hadn’t spilt. He turned around in time to see Marinette enter.

  “Hi!” she exclaimed cheerfully, “you okay?”

   He realised how he must have looked in that moment, “Yeah, Just- Just fell asleep on your sofa,” he stretched and a few more bones cracked, “I’m getting you a new sofa.”

   She giggled but shook her head, “Can’t, the sofa came with the rental,” she explained.

   He groaned, “Why must the world be against me.”

   “Cheer up,” she told him and pulled a small box from her gym bag, “I- I saw them and-“ he hands shakily handed it to him, “I- I thought of you.”

  Carefully he took it from her and unwrapped the delicate green bow. Opening it a pair of black winter gloves sat within, a small smile spread across his lips, he had no use for the gloves but he didn’t want to upset her by telling her that.

   “There’s a scarf too…” she murmured.

   He pulled the gloves out to see the black scarf that sat beneath them, the ends of it were threaded with a vibrant green roughly the same colour of the lenses on his mask.

   He cleared his throat, “thank you- thank you Marinette, I- I love them.”

   “I would have made them myself,” she explained, “But with classes and-“

   “It’s okay Marinette,” he told her, “You even getting them means a lot.”

  She smiled at him before realising that he was trying to hide his half-eaten breakfast, she had picked up on his habit of not eating.

   “When did you make that?” she questioned pointing at the bowel.

   “I-“ he looked over to her window to see it was dark outside, “a- a long time ago.”

   “You didn’t look at the time when you made it did you?”

   He shook his head, “Sorry.”

   “Here,” she took the bowel from him, “Sit down, I’ll make dinner.”

   “But-“ he protested, “I want to help.”

   “Sit,” she ordered.

   He sighed but followed through with her command sitting down at the dining table, he knew she was just trying to make sure that he didn’t overexert himself but he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling in his stomach, the feeling that told him that he was being treated like a child. He tried to push it as far as he could from his mind because she was only trying to help him and it wasn’t her fault that his father still treated him like a child. He shifted his focus to the TV to try and forget the negative feelings, his ears picked up on the voices but they didn’t translate into words leaving him with the thoughts he wanted to avoid.

   “Marinette? Are you sure I can’t help?”

   “I’m sure,” she replied.

   But he ignored her words, standing up he walked over to the kitchen counter and stood on the opposite side leaving the room so Marinette could still move around freely on the other side. He waited for his chance to pounce at any chore he could do. He picked up one of the onions off the countertop and peeled the skin away.

   “What are you doing?”    “Helping,” he replied.

   “Chat…” she whined, “I’ve got this covered, go sit down.”

   “Please,” he begged, trying his best to convince her, “I feel like dead weight right now, please just let me help.”

   “Fine…” She sighed, “but this isn’t a permanent thing.”   “We’ll see.”

   She rolled her eyes at him but still handed him the knife she was using to cut potatoes.

   Unsure of himself he seconded guessed every single cut he made, he wanted it to be perfect. Marinette giggled and he looked up at her. Taking the knife from him she showed him just how to cut them, he slices were quick and uneven, she didn’t care what size they were as long as they were cut. She handed him back the knife and he resumed his chore until he had nothing left to cut. She took the sliced vegetables and dumped them into a slow cooker. Adrien couldn’t help but feel slightly proud at the small amount of work he had put into helping her cook.

   “Did- Did you wanna play another round of Mecha?” he asked her.

   She smiled and nodded her head, her gaze drifted towards the window. He followed it at saw the small little specks slowly floating down from the sky, winter had officially come their way, he was definitely going to be using the scarf and gloves she had gotten him.

        Bonus

  Plagg could see many things his chosen normally couldn’t. Usually, it was magical threats but he hadn’t found a need for that in over a millennium. Nowadays his ability to look into one’s heart was the one he used more than all the others, it used to only be used when choosing a new wielder but once again Adrien had turned the tables on that one.

  Plagg looked into the hearts of everyone he met. Chloe, Adrien supposed friend was full of greed from a childhood spent getting everything she wanted, the was a slight glimmer of goodness there but on some days that was hard to see.

  Adrien’s father, his heart had long since been turned to cold stone. The only thing the man ever seem to love was long gone. Adrien said that his mother simply disappeared one day but Gabriel’s heart said something else, that the woman was still very much alive, Plagg couldn’t see much further than that even if he wanted to. Gabriel’s heart also told him that the man was ruthless and wouldn’t let anything get in his way. Plagg had none people like that very well and the end result never worked out best for his wielder but Plagg knew he could never convince Adrien to leave his father, the boy had to do it himself even if it would hurt him.

  But the one person he hadn’t accounted for was the girl Marinette. How she had nestled her way into Adrien’s heart so quickly was surprising. Many people had tried to partner up with him and he had said no to all, the kid kept his priorities in line, he knew that anyone he trusted could turn on him and yet he continued to take risks with her.

  At first, Plagg was curious with the girl, he truly thought his wielder had developed a small infatuation with her but he didn’t outwardly show that so Plagg had crossed that of the list. He poked around in her apartment looking for anything that would magically draw Adrien towards her, it was a long shot in the dark but sometimes magic found a way to survive and sadly he found no evidence that she was a twentieth-century witch.

  He couldn’t understand where this… bond had come from, he went down his tiny list of things only to cross them all off.

  The girl was kind and sweet, her heart showed some recent damage most likely caused by heartbreak, she had very little ill intentions and yet Plagg couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  He wanted to kick and scream at Adrien that something was wrong but he couldn’t that would be wrong and Tikki taught him long ago that it was sometimes best to just leave things alone, that everything would somehow turn out all right in the end, he just had to be patient.

  So he was, when Adrien slept in that morning he took matters into his own paws, the girl didn’t even notice him slipping into her old gym bag. He waited until the bag stopped moving and there was no sound before emerging from it, he tracked her down the corridors to a room filled with other people wearing the same silly outfits as her and watched.

  Adrien said the girl loved to dance and he could see it. When the woman at the head of the class told her to stiffen a move she did, when she was asked to soften another, she did. Plagg couldn’t help but be entertained by the spectacle, her heart told him that she was enjoying the challenges the woman giving orders had set for her.

  In another life, Plagg believed that he would have enjoyed her as a wielder but her strong moral compass needed to bend just a little more before that could be the case.

  Plagg managed to quell his concerns a little bit, the girl didn’t seem to speak to anyone in the room other than boss lady but that was only because she had too. That was until another girl decided to pick a fight, Plagg held back the urge to drop something on the girls head, he was enjoying watching Marinette dance and this incredibly rude girl had ruined that by speaking.

  He drifted closer and only picked up on the last word the girl had said to Marinette.

  “Useless.”

  The word hung in the air as the girl walked away, he took no notice of her as he kept his eyes on Marinette. He watched her exterior breakdown for a second, a tear slowly tracked its way down her face before she instantly pulled herself together and wiped the tear away. She looked around the room and no one had noticed that she had dropped her strong façade but Plagg did, it was the same one Adrien had. It hid the emotional storm behind it and rarely did it break.

  Plagg vowed to get revenge on the girl in time but something awoke in him meaning that his time with Marinette had to be sadly cut short because Adrien had finally woken up.

  He looked at Marinette one last time as she started to dance again, the girl’s words seemed to already be forgotten by her. His ears dropped and he phased through the wall and out onto the warm morning Paris air.

Made For @marichatmay

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[smhtaehyung]

when all daisies disappear🌼 | chapter 2

cr.

• masterlist

• Pairing: taehyung x OC (mental hospital au)

• Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, romance

• Word count: 2.8k

• Warning: will contain themes such as suicidal thoughts, depression and physical violence. Some of the backstory for Taehyung’s character is taken from the BTS concepts during the hyyh era. if you feel uncomfortable with the topic of mental illness, I advise you not to read further.

•••

chapter 2 ➸ 496 🌼

"I like your paintings." He complimented me, observing my room. "Sure. Okay." I said in a confused manner whilst writing a copy of the schedule about the meals, medication and group activities for him. "You can't just say thanks to people?" He asked, giggling a bit as he showed his smile for the first time. His smile was incredibly boxy, it did not seem like any other smile, making me slightly puzzled. ”No.” I coldly answered. “Thanks for copying that schedule for me.” He said as he stood by the bed. ”I’m only doing it because I have a feeling you’d fuck it up and then I’d be my fault.” I said as I took a red sharpie and underlined the important hours. “Well, thanks, anyway.” He said in a bright tone and looked down. The way his mood switched from bright to cold and enigmatic, confused me. By then, I was already analysing him hard. Was he bipolar? Socially anxious? What is the reason he’s here? I think I questioned myself more than I did him. Why was he so intriguing? I ignored him and continued copying. After a few seconds of silence I glanced at him up and down, noticing he was still standing. “Aren’t you gonna sit? It’s annoying me.” I said in a harsh tone. “I’m good as of like this for now.” “You’re good as of like that? Don’t you mean you’re good as of right now? Are you that poor of a talker? The shrinks are not gonna love you really-” I started slightly provoking tone but he cut me off. “Why are you so mean and defensive?” He asked in a slight chuckle that confused and frustrated me at the same time. He didn’t  care about my opinion or insults, which both infuriated and intrigued me.  “Why did you pick me then?” I directly asked. “I like to be challenged.” He said in a bright tone. “Jesus.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. After about 20 seconds he whispered to me. "Do you want one?" He shyly, yet kindly asked, pointing a plastic bag of chocolate candy to me, but actually the only thing I noticed were his tanned hands.

"No. Why can’t you just shut up?" I gave him the judging look again. He took one for himself, quietly unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth. My eyes were focused on his plump lips and a tongue that swirled over the piece of chocolate. My mind was overthinking his simple offer. He distracted me a lot by doing all that. And I didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, it was extremely random and kind of adorable and on the other hand, it was extremely annoying and stupid.Jiyu softly knocked on the door and peeked her head in. Her beautiful white teeth shone through my eyes. “Taehyung, sweety, It’s time to meet your psychologists.” She softly spoke with a smile. He gave a reassuring half genuine smile and walked over to her. “Ugh, sweety.” I scoffed, mocking Jiyu’s words. “I heard you Ji.” She teased me in a serious tone. I shook my head. “Ji. That’s a cute nickname. I’m gonna call you Ji.” Taehyung suddenly spoke. “I’ll knock your teeth in if you do that.” I said, focusing on the paper in front of me. ”Jia!” Jiyu scolded me with her tone at the same time Taehyung spoke “Deal.” I slightly chuckled and rolled my eyes. Taehyung, walked past Jiyu as she scolded me with her look. After a few seconds, I finished the copy and put it on his nightstand. I wandered around the room, trying to think about how should I act towards him. He made me question my character and personality so much. I did not know why did I feel a need to act nice towards him. Once my thoughts were way too loud, I kneeled and pulled the drawer out of the old wooden nightstand, finding a secret department where I hid my cigarettes. I was on my way to the only peaceful place here, somewhere I wasn’t as bitter and fucked up as everyone thought I always was. Somewhere where my childhood and pure like character was kept all along, at least in that one last fragile fragment of my brain. I went outside of the room, adjusting my cardigan right. I held my cigarettes and a lighter under my sleeve as I sneaked my way down to the main hallway. I hurried past the reception to not get noticed and opened the last, 13th door, on the right side of the hallway. I walked up the staircase that was leading me to the roof. I stood on my tip toes to reach for the key that was hidden inside a pot with a dried and shrivelled orchids. I unlocked the door and walked up the few stone stairs that sent cold shivers through my shoes that missed their laces.I stared at the sky that was slowly growing more and more orange. I walked closer to the edge and sat down. I took of my shoes and pushed my feet out the gaps of the metal bars, keeping me from falling. I tried to lit a cigarette, escaping the wind. Even wind tried to stop me from smoking. Smoking since 12 years old never really gives you any sense that what you’re doing is stupid. Acting tough in front of people when you’re 19 is even worst. It’s so childish, just like Taehyung said it. I inhaled a smoke and shut my eyes, trying to stop my thoughts. Why am I thinking about you? Why are you so real, yet you seem like a dream? Why would I feel something for you, after going through so many roommates? Why do you answer me back when I don’t want you? Why do I only know you for less than a day yet you’re already one of the most annoying people I know.

Thinking about you only results in me overthinking myself. Am I really this clingy to people? Am I even feeling the need to be close to you, or just push you away the further I can? Am I finally feeling something, so it scares me to a point of overthinking what you, a boyish stranger, thinks of me.

I smoked away my thoughts until I was feeling numb. Staring at the sky I lit another one and tried to focus on the progressive coldness my skin was feeling every second passing by. After half an hour, that seemed like an entire day, I got up and put on my shoes as soon as the dark night plastered onto the clear sky and I couldn’t bear the coldness anymore in my light cardigan. I hid the key back to its place and walked down the stairs and onto the hallway. I walked right past the man hallway and entered back my ward. I walked down the hallway, observing the some ceiling lamps that were flickering. I stared at the lamp for a bit too long until my eyes started to hurt. I shook off my head and looked to my right where some of the girls of this wards were staring at me like most of the time. “What are you looking at?” I scoffed. “N-Nothing.” One of them said as they continued staring. “Well, will you stop then?” I asked in a pissed off tone as they stepped back, noticing I was aggressively walking towards them. They quickly walked away as I shook my head and walked past one of the psychiatrist’s office, noticing Taehyung was inside and already talking to one of the best out of the worst shrinks around here.I hesitated and stared. The state of perplexity washed over my entire body and mind. He did it again. He was sitting there with the most numb stare, yet raw emotions that gave that numbness a meaning. He wasn’t acting at all child-like or bright. He seemed rather sad and unresponsive to the treatment, like most of us yes, but seeing him like this made me question him even more. Why the act? Why is he acting so bright if he’s fucked up? Why did he build that defensive character?

His head moved to the left as for a quick second he saw me looking. I quickly turned and started to walk, even though he noticed it. “Ugh dumb.” I said to myself under my breath as I was walking. “Who?” One of the boys on the ward asked, hearing me speak. “You.” I immediately spat out, my act seeming normal to him and anyone who heard. I walked to my room and noticed a change. He unpacked his stuff and whole room smelled quite nice. All his things were set up neat and clean, making me wonder why was he acting that pedantic. Kind of petty in some aspects too. He didn’t move the copy of the schedule I left. It was on the same spot I left it. If you were to compare his and mine side of the room you'd be puzzled the same way I am. Such a white, tidy and minimalistic side of his compared to my expressive, colour stained and quiet messy side that screams out one of a kond character.

I think you'd be bewildered just like I am if you saw some weird things he decorated his side of the room with. From white ceramic figures and metal jelwery to white daisies. Why daisies? And why are there so many of them. Quite literally he filled a glass that's supposed to be for water, and put a lot of daisies inside, almost fully falling out of the glass. Daisies by the figurienes, daisies by his clothes, daisies tucked on the edge of the mattress, so they peak out, daisies in many small crystal vases that dominated all his cabinets and a night stand. Some daisies were even taped to the wall. There even was a small bouquet of daisies tied in a white ribbon that he left by the window we both shared, being the border between mine and his side.After confusedly observing the room, I heard the door open behind me. Taehyung went inside with an unreadable face. He casually sat on the bed as I stared around in a understable feeling of shock. "What the fuck?" I spoke. He gently moved his head up so his eyes could meet mine. "Why did you turn our room into a fucking flowershop?" I asked, pointing to all the daisies. "It's not that much. You're overreacting. I just really like daisies." He said and shrugged, his playful character slightly shining through. "Huh, that's a weird fetish." I teased him as I sat down. "It's not a fetish. It's more of a need." He said, making me even more puzzled. "You're addicted to daisies? That's why you're here?" I asked, making him sound really dumb. "No, you don't get it. It has to do with something personal, maybe I'll tell you, but I don't know-" he tried to speak but I cut him off. "I don't care, you do know that? It was a retorical question, you dumbass." I lied, shaking my head. "Sure you don't." He shortly giggled under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?" I spoke in a intimidating tone but felt so scared to what he might thought. "You stared for quite a while." He said, smirking at me. Staring at me like that made my hands shake a little bit. "That's called being sedated. That's the only thing they're gonna give you here." I said, trying to switch the topic. "I don't think it's quite simple as that." He said, staring right through me. How could he read some parts of me so well already?

He got up and took his t-shirt and a pajama for sleeping, along with his stuff to wash himself. He was heading to the washroom down the hallway that the whole ward shared. I sat in silence, ignoring his last sentence. He slid through the gap of the door instead of opening it fully. It's no doubt this boy has a difficult mind to understand. I changed into my sleeping clothes. I put on my t-shirt, feeling the feshly soft fabric press against my skin, letting my arms breathe. My arms carried a story of a kind too, well actually only one arm. Its wrist carried a story that has been repeated a few times to reach for an unreachable pain relief. A break from everything. I've tried to die three times since being in here. Only once it was close, and It was last time. Seeing the people on his ward percieve me the way I show them my toughness, would only bring them a thought that I sometimes I too get manicly depressed and driven off the edge.

I snuggled under the puffy covers and turned off the light on my nightstand, not touching Taehyung's lamp. I felt myself drift off to sleep pretty quickly. As I was somewhere between the awake state and sleep, I heard Taehyung enter the room. Too tired to move, I laid almost asleep and carefully listened to his soft steps. He was so careful not to wake me up that it almost made me smile. He laid down and turned off the lamp the quietest way he could as he snuggled under the covers too and let out a light breath before drifting off to sleep. A very peaceful and unusual moment it was.

•••

The sound of light steps was replaced by a rushed voice from Jiyu to wake me up for my art activity program. "C'mon, Ji. Wake up." She said and softly nudged my arm. "Ugh, I'm coming." I said and opened my eyes, immediately turning my head to the right. Taehyung was not sleeping. He wasn't even in the room. His bed has been perfectly made as I assumed he was already waiting for the art therapy. Jiyu exited the room once she saw me get up. I put on some random clothes, barely able to keep my eyes open. I sighed and went with my fingers through my bangs to brush them. I walked outside and looked to my left. I walked into the art activities room and immediately noticed Taehyung reading a letter.

Thursdays we get the mail, letters or any other kind of a dearly written document. But I decided roughly around 3 years ago to not look at them. Not open them. To me tgey always seemed so desperate and even more depressing. I don't accept visitation either. I wanted to build a life here, as miserable as that sounds, but building myself up (or down) like this, was a way for me to grow up. So all the letters are placed in the storage room with all the files, collecting dust. Taehyung smiled looking upon his letter, making me extremely curious. I walked over to him, to sit on the only seat that was not taken, opposite him. "Hey." He said with a bright smile. Somehow, I noticed it seemed fake because that's wasn't how his real smile looked like. But why did I remember that detail about him? There's no doubts he was an interesting man to observe. Only observe. Because he's so frustrating as a person and mysterious, so there's no doubt that people wouldn't be drawn to him. Even me."Who sent you a letter that makes you act all weird about it?" I asked in a disgusted tone. He sent me a teasingly judgemental look before speaking. "Oh, It's from my girlfriend." He said it casually with a soft smile, staring into my eyes. You know, there are words that make your heart sink just like that, but feeling that way made me question why was I feeling that, right in that moment, and why so sudden. And why him? Why does my heart feel like this? And why do I even keep his soft steps in my mind? Could a person influence you this much in such a short time?

"What's it say?" I nervously asked, leaning over. He folded the letter in half and put it in his pocket. "You're very nosy." He commented. "It's my girlfriends letter. So It's private." He said, still keepig his hands in his pockets. "Of course you have a girlfriend." I mumbled under my breath, somehow feeling that was predictable about him. He was a handsome young man who had an idiot like personality that had its own charm so why wouldn't girls fall for him? "You roll your eyes a lot." He spoke, smiling at me. "Only because you annoy me." I said when our therapy teacher handed us the smooth papers. "You're annoyed I have a girlfirend or-" He tried to speak but out of fear I cut him off. "You wish." I scoffed and took a pencil out of the old metal can.

What's something so interesting about that letter that he keeps staring at it? What could his girlfriend possibly say?

part 3

[fionajaneisaac]

Tiresias

Picture the scene: A boy of fifteen. With the usual dreams And the usual routine. 

Heading to school with a dullness inside Borne of desires left unsatisfied.

Is he stifled or is he just Learning the ways of his times? Give him limbs that are awkward But know how to climb.

Give him a gait that you know. Give him hopes. His days are so painfully slow, But he copes.

This morning He wakes to the same old alarm. Slumps in the shower Like a frog in the rain. Winks at the mirror — does cool, does charm. Shaves soft skin. Nods at the pain. No hair yet. Soon though.

Headphones on. Last half of last night’s joint in his lips. Bass so loud it feels like a movie. Scuffing his trainers. Swinging his hips.

They’re always laughing, The kids at the bus stop. He tries to ignore them, But it doesn’t help.

Hood up, he walks past them. Blowing out smoke rings. Singing out Wu-Tang. Hating himself.

Into the woods, he takes the old path.

There is the rope swing, There is the bath lying broken. There is his name in the bark. There are the trees, So slim and so stark In the thin little woodland. Hardly a forest, The last of the green washed clean by the grey. There is the bike chain that nobody wanted,  There is a child’s shoe — hope they’re ok.

Out of the damp leaves and mulch in the pathway His eye is caught by a glittering flash. A dark moving something, A mess of bright muscle. Ore in a forge, A deep, billowing gash.

Snakes. Two snakes! Coiling, uncoiling Boiling and cooling Oil in a cauldron Foil in a river Soil on a mood ring.

He stares: They spoil each other. They do things He has only dreamt of doing.

His blood’s alive inside him, fizzing. He shuts his eyes and watches blotches Underneath his lids for minutes. But peeks before he knows he’s peeking.

Clutching his knees, he squats on his haunches Watching the scales as they bounce and contort And before he has thought he has reached out a fist And picked up a short stick that lies near a ditch.

He swings from above And breaks open the fortress. The snakes, now apart, Seem smaller, more awkward. They flee for their love. The boy, swaying and nauseous Falls to the floor More raw than before, More tortured. 

He feels himself shiver, contorting. A current is coursing within him,  Shorting his circuits. He curses, His curses are perfect The trees bow their branches in worship.

His body’s responding to something beyond him. Swells where before there were dips. A crunching of muscle, the hips Opening up, bones roaring, Beneath them, boyhood shrinking, falling inwards. Thinking nothing. Feeling new blood rushing.

Scuffing ankles on the forest floor As his shape moves His body pours itself to puddles. He fits and starts. He will be more than the sum of his parts. He shakes and shouts, a screwed-up mouth. A pain that only women know Grabs him in the guts. He slows to gently stuttered breaths He stops.  He feels. He’s still. He rests.

And slowly, with caution She climbs to her feet. Wipes tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. Frowns at the trees. How could you stay so calm? Places a nervous palm Against her new face, her new chest, The new flesh of her arm.

She approaches the school gates, She can’t face her class. She can’t go home, not now.

She is glass Amongst sand.

She turns and retreats. Finds herself deep In the smog and the heat,  The fog and the meat Of the bodies that beat out their lives In the throb of the street. She learns to be small and discreet. She learns to be thankful for all that she eats. She learns how to smile Without meaning an inch of it. She learns how to swim in the stink And not sink in it.  It’s as if this is all she has known.

Give her a face that is kind, that belongs To a woman you know Who is strong And believes in the rightness of doing things wrong.

Give her a body that breathes deep at night That is warm and unending; as total as light. 

Let her live.

Brighter every day That she was not so young and desperate. Bigger every minute That she settled all the restless Urges in her chest And when she woke from nightmares, breathless, She would piece herself together Like some relic found in ash and clay, A precious, ancient necklace.

When she was complete again, She’d wolfwalk into town. And drink down every wave that came To break her spirits down. She was wild and wonderful. A star throughout the district. A red light dreadnought. Queen among misfits.

And yes, sometimes they sneered When they glimpsed her in the gutter. It made her crack her knuckles, Shake her head and start to mutter To herself under her breath You posh pricks don’t know fucking shit. And they would look away And light their cigarettes and spit. 

She liked to giggle with the pretty boys and kiss the lonely addicts And weave exquisite curtains for the dismal little attics Where they lay their heads at night, Out of beads and string and plastic. Each corner she inhabited made warmer by her magic.

She grew expert in the field Of love She learned to see and feel The deepest secrets lurking in The hearts of those who came to swim In her dark waters. She knew things. She knew Kings And she bore daughters. She knew love, she made her fortune. Till she met her match. Exhaustion.

He was an older man, A man who liked to hold her hand A man who made her feel like she was rolling round on golden sand. A man as soft as any girl A man as hard as any luck. She understood what life was for Each time they bucked and came unstuck.

True love takes its toll On souls Who are not used to feeling whole.

They tangle limbs and feel the shudders,  All the world is nothing. Lovers:  Promising each other not to take the vital parts, While even as they mutter it, they’re giving up their hearts.

It is a new moon In late May She gives way To his weight They are laid out flat by the lake.

She can feel His blood in her veins. He can feel Her pulse in his wrists. And they kiss. And the moon hangs open and orange Like a wound in the mist.

He asks her to marry him. Have him forever and never be lonely but only together. She thinks that he’s taking the piss. Throws him a scowl so sharp his darkest parts are shafted, blasted, ripped in half, She starts to laugh, she hits her palms Against the grass. He lifts his arms, I mean it Shining cheeks, his garments creased, Naked skin on cold damp heath. I mean it. Silence. Let it land. She cannot  breathe or stand.  She crawls towards him, smiling. Takes his hand. Of course. They kiss and both expand. 

She decides she must go back,  Seek out a past. A mother, a father, Whatever she has.  A blessing or something,  Maybe an answer.

She packs some things and leaves at dawn, alone.  And heads out North. For home. 

By dusk she’s walking the woods of her youth, Smelling the air. Is this where I’m from? Who was I when I was here last?  If this isn’t home Then where has home gone? 

She sees a small clearing between the trees. She’s rocks in a river.  She’s leaves in a breeze.

There is a shopping trolley There are some keys There is a hawthorn There’s a horse chestnut There’s a used condom There’s an old desk lamp There’s a nice conker... Is that blood or ketchup? Birds in the branches Light in the darkness Like sand in the toes of the bushes.

There!

Right there.

There in the path. In the leaves and the bracken Two black backs untangle, dragons.  Coupling, shuffling, grappling. She is staggering. Can’t stop looking. Strange unravelling. Something from before, something forgotten. Someone she used to be. Some rotten something in her darkest somewhere, Scale and danger. Nature, sunglare. Faint, she takes a branch and holds it Steadies herself. Stills her shoulders. Snakes and sex and innocence And nothing really makes much sense.  Who was I then? She watches awed. And grips the branch like it’s a sword.

Believing. Believing.

I should be leaving.

She breaks the branch with sudden force. She swings the branch, and knows its course: The snakes, no chance, are soon divorced.

A sudden dark and squelching tension. She panics, sweats, can’t breathe. Head pounds. Her body writhes and juts. No sounds.

The image of her lover’s face Begins to shake and wilt and fade, She loses him, there, in the shade.

It hurts. She’s felt this once before. She knows this pain, this change, this awe.

She feels herself retract and harden. Feels her bones enlarging,  Moving, arching. Something charging, She’s old milk bursting from its carton.

Shaken, floored, a body heaving Writhing, smiling, something’s pleasing, Finding her throat open, screaming, Hoarse and full of light Her body stops. She feels his might. His veins thicken in intense delight. 

A man again. He stands, confused. And walks away. Too much to lose.

This poor once-boy, sudden-woman, Who’d lived so long and done so well And kept so much so deeply hidden, Now found himself before the bell Of some new door in some new town. The pain of new beginnings.  Everything that went before Gushed in him. Water overfilling.

Smash the cup and let it happen.

Tiresias. A full grown human. Moves on from what he cannot fathom. He swears his past will not consume him. 

And so the man with many pasts Matures into his present,  But he feels his waters move In the last arc of the crescent,  And as the moon expands to full He feels his blood respond,  But as all humans know to do, He holds it in And soldiers on.

Imagine how it feels To walk so far away from life and love,  To know that all you’ve known Is now No longer enough.

All the blood they’d bled, All the children they had borne, All the mouths their mouths had met, Behind them now. 

Forlorn, He staggers knee-deep through his pity Sadness grabs his shins. A stranger in a strangers’ city, Where new strangeness begins.

In distant gold terrain,  Mount Olympus, pink and milky, Zeus and Hera fight again,  Raw and honest, foul and filthy, Hera with her eyes screwed up I swear you’re out to kill me.  She weeps and screams and he enjoys  The feeling of his power. He froths and paces, thunders, pleads; Tempers frayed, their bodies need A break from fighting — But none comes.  Not after this — another tongue Roasted in his total blaze. Surprise, surprise, old Zeus has strayed.

The fighting carries on for days. Down on Earth the weather’s mental. Hurricanes and ancient heat. Sudden freezes ice the deserts. Rain leaves craters in concrete. Hera’s ripping up her dresses. — Am I not enough for you?

Zeus is melted, stares intently — Sister, you are all i love. — Then why? — Because these others tempt me. And unlike you, I lack the guts To turn away and know my path.

Hera swigs straight from the cask, The nectar’s strong and soothers her heart. She sighs in disbelief, don’t start.

Zeus, bored of being wrong and sorry. Puffs his chest up, shows his might. Hera knows his godly body Well enough to not take fright.

I don’t know what the fuss is for Zeus begins, playing wounded. Women like it more than Men. I don’t even want to do it.  What you get from me is more Than what I get from you. Red rag to a Minotaur.

What? says Zeus. It’s true.

They row like it’s a holy war,  The Earth suffers their anger. Finally, when neither has The strength to raise the anchor And the ship of their relations Is broken-keeled and sinking, And they are fighting over what the other Might have just been thinking,

They stop for ragged breaths. The sky is bruised and black. Hera won’t be pacified Until he takes it back.

Tiresias, at peace at last, Is older now than ever, He’s found a lovely partner And they’ve made a life together.  He won’t walk the woods alone; He’ll only walk the heath. He blanks out all the lives he’s known, But they survive beneath. He’s started doing pottery. He’s joined the local choir. If he thinks about his history His heart is set on fire. 

There’s no way back, There is no track That leads to his past lives. He sets himself on forwards. And he loves. And he survives.

His lover is a gentle man, Together they are free. The enjoy each other I love him. And he loves me. 

But on dark days he likes to walk Besides the heartsick sea. And as the waves begin to howl He drops down to his knees,  And cries for all he’s lost And for all he used to be.

Zeus — in final stage of fury — Beats his massive fists Against the stormy clouds And says — there’s only one who can fix this. 

Tiresias is home alone, His partner’s out all day; He teaches in the local school Good students but shit pay.

The weather’s turning nasty The house rattles and moans. The door’s ripped from its hinges And Tiresias is thrown.

The house is filled with stormclouds Rain smashes at his cheeks  He is too shocked to recognise That this is how god speaks.

Suddenly the storm abates The house is filled with sun Zeus, in his human form,  Sticks up a golden thumb, Hey.

Tiresias is terrified. He can barely speak. Zeus nods in recognition. Swans in, takes a seat.

Look, me and Hera Are having this domestic, Pathetic — I know. But that’s what to be expected From an eternity of marriage. Anyway You’re my only hope.

And Zeus takes him by the hand — might as well have been the throat — And ascends the mount Olympus And dumps him before the queen.

Here’s the guy to settle it. Tiresias has been Man and woman both. 

So ask him — who enjoys it more? A woman or a man?

Tiresias is stunned But wants to help them if he can. 

His mind begins to shudder,  Every kiss comes back to bite him. His body buckles under The old echoes of excitement.

He sees every time his open mouth has yelled, All tongue and teeth, He sees the necks and backs and legs, His rising chest, his blushing cheeks. He remembers after sex,  The woman he once was, Lying in her happiness Like nothing had been lost.

He thinks of how he finds it now, Spent and drained and feeling deep. The agony that follows. The desperate need for sleep. He feels it moving like a hand Across his shaking thighs. He takes his time and works it out, And slowly he describes:

If you could split sexual Please into tenths, Women would get nine. That leaves just one For men.

Zeus grins, Smug, In that way he does. And Hera feels the boiling of her blood.

She, in rage and consternation, Screams towards Tiresias Takes the eyes out from his head And leaves him blind and sore and red. And gore is pouring forth before them all. His arms are spread. He wishes with his broken heart He could be someone else instead.

Zeus is shocked, appalled, impressed. Mate he says Ah mate.

Tiresias knows better Than to howl and remonstrate But his swollen eyeballs roll in grief; His face is aged with pain. Zeus, still reeling from his victory, Accepts it is a shame.

What one god has done, No other god can undo. I can’t give you back your eyes But I can give you something new.

Zeus lays a mighty palm Against the bloody sockets And flood’s the body’s blindness With the inner sight of prophets.

Tiresias was melted, But inside the vision grew. A weakness in his legs, A sobbing emptiness, shot through With some new tenderness, Some blue And calm uncurling in his guts.

He staggered like a child pretending blindness, Hands out in the dark. But couldn’t close his eyes to what exploded in his heart. He could see the truth of things He couldn’t look away. Nothing left but to accept, He had been born to live this day.

And so, with face streaked warpaint red, And every sense burnt white with pain, He was given seven lifetimes And dropped back down to Earth again.

A whole life lived At the mercy of the fates. Here he comes again,  The old seer with the shakes. Wheeled on to mutter prophecy, Chased off by angry kings. Tiresias, you lived for more Than what the legend sings.

Tiresias — you’ve lost Everyone you ever loved.  But you stand beneath The cruelty of the sun that burns above And you offer only toothless grins For all that you have seen.

Tiresias, you hold your own.  Each you that you have been.

You walk among us, slow, A ragged crow, With breath to blow, In which we’ll see a truth That we’ll wish we didn’t know. 

You’re the crazy on the corner Old, and smelling weird Queuing for electric With birdbones in your beard. You stagger on regardless, Swaying in the street Summoning an oracle That can’t be arsed to meet.

While we assemble selves online And stare into our phones, You are bright and terrifying,  Breath and flesh and bone. 

Tiresias — you teach us What it means: to hold your own.

Kate Tempest

[swyllh]

[junhao] at dusk, the last bird’s cry

title: at dusk, the last bird’s cry

premise: [ghibli-esque] junhui is a young boy from the city; minghao is a young boy from the sea.

genre/themes: slow burn, coming of age, environmentalism, magical au, rural-urban issues.

warnings: implicit violence, somewhat unhealthy parent-child relationships?

word count: 14 661

-

between burning tarmac and bleached sand is an equally pale, peeling post. it reads: we com  to l gh  bay.

jun unsticks his knees from the blistered back of the driver's seat with a sweaty, loud whap. the car, startled, clambers testily over another road bump. through the dusty window, jun sees - squinting - the feathered strokes of sky and sea tethered to the edge of his vision by remnants of a white fence.

the picture sighs into another blurry mirror of whites, overexposed and exhausted.

"sit properly," his father says tautly, unwilling to spare another gasp in this wilting weather.

jun complies, pulling against the moaning adhesion of the seat and yanking himself into a slouch against the door. even the glass is hot - moist, now.

"it's so hot," he whines softly.

the cases jiggle haphazardly beside him. a clattering mess - the photos from dad's work spilling frothily under the seats. jun makes a bare attempt to stamp on one of the negatives before it slips away into the carpeting.

"yeye's cottage is by the sea," his mother says breezily, despite the parched volume of her musical whisper. "it'll be cooler there."

jun sighs, pressing his cheek against the upholstery. "okay."

his mother glances back, twisting her head over the pretty lace collar at him. with a smile, she reaches into her bag and tugs out a flashy striped rectangle. the packet spills open to reveal a couple of melting sweets. jun leans forward, unsticking his arm from the side of the door and plucks at one.

"thank you," he says, shuffling hotly into the web of shadows.

"you want some?" mother says to father, her breathy whisper eclipsed by the shaking of a yellow charm on the rearview mirror.

again, the car stutters, clanking ungracefully. the beach outside thins into a fine line, and a sudden, feeble burst of colour flashes past. blues and pinks and greens are stripped down to a whirl, with the occasional red-and-white parasols or chalkboard.

jun jams his elbow against the window button, and hauls himself up for the festivities. there are houses and shops or doors scrunching up so close to the road, teetering over cobbled streets and hasty wooden chairs. the flowers from an overcrowded store panic as the car drives by.

"it's so," jun fumbles, eyes wide. "crowded."

his father snorts.

his mother gazes warily into the mirror. "yeye lives just a bit away."

"right," his father concedes, meeting her round eyes. "just a few more minutes."

jun's still pressed up against the car door. "no one's open yet."

"it's a sunday morning," his mother says, turning to face the winding, climbing road ahead. "sit back down, jun. there's a slope."

jun doesn't, and is slammed back into place when the car zooms vertically. his father rolls the windows back up, and ends any lingering doubt.

-

jun loves his grandfather. he loves the cottage especially - with its red bricks and triangular roof and tinier roofs above the roof. there's a narrow trail of smooth pebbles leading up to the door, lined with white mushrooms and blue flowers he has yet to name.

there's even a small fountain, or more accurately, a bowl made out of a brown-beige thing. it's speckled with little red dots or white, and there's usually a steady puddle of water swirling around in it.

jun hops out of the car and its starched-blue heat, lifting his shirt by the hems to feel that cooling whiff. the car creaks, and his parents are talking in hushed whispers again.

ignoring them, he runs forward, pushing the gate free from its tangled flowery mess. the mailbox is full, however, so jun backtracks hurriedly and tugs the huge envelope out. it crinkles easily, but manages to stay in one official piece.

"magpies," jun mutters, tracing a finger over the glossy stamp.

he breaks into a run immediately, stumbling up the trail and into the modest shelter of the veranda. the paper lanterns he made last summer are still here, swinging listlessly in an effort to be welcoming.

"yeye!" jun shouts, shifting the envelope to the other arm and reaching for the doorbell.

he's still too short though, and so resorts to banging uselessly on the door. his mother comes along, juggling a few cases in her arms. she sets them down, and presses the bell. a faint buzz travels from inside, followed by a muted exclamation.

"oh," grandpa says, eyes darting from jun's mother to jun and then to the cases on the floor. "come in."

jun likes the sound of that, but pauses before hastily removing his shoes. "hello yeye!"

grandpa crinkles his eyes - the lines sinking in deeper - and smiles. "hello jun. how are you?"

his parents have slid past grandpa into the living room, hoisting those thick black leather cases with them. but grandpa's attention is solely placed on jun. the thick black glasses perched on his nose bridge slide down a little, revealing a set of wise, brown eyes examining the boy before him. grandpa winks.

that's what jun likes best.

"very good!" jun says, puffing out his chest.

-

the envelope finds its way to the slanted dining table, perched unfairly over a set of well-worn books. mother tiptoes to tug on the pull strings, catching the sheer lamp shade in mid-oscillation. behind her, father is sprawled out over the dusty couch, switching between news channels forecasting the same static white noise.

jun rushes down from the creaking stairs, tiny feet padding across the room. he reaches the stained silver kettle before it begins to whine, hastily turning the knobs on the stove. it sputters useless puffs of smoke, turning a singular panel of the kitchen window grey.

setting down his new froggy thermos flask on the countertop, jun paces over to the fridge and takes a stool out from beside it. its red coat and printed flowers are fading, and there's a missing spot where a forgotten mushroom sprouted.

jun steps onto the stool, and still on his tiptoes, heaves the kettle with controlled grunts. he's gotten a lot stronger since his tenth birthday. the kettle scratches unpleasantly against metal grids, but budges just enough for its spout to line up against his bottle.

"jun!" his mother shouts, glancing up from her scrutiny of the envelope. "that's hot. i'll do it."

jun frowns, face pulled into a sore look of determination. and then there are adult hands relieving him of its weight. she expertly opens the bottle with one hand, and tilts slightly to the side to guide the stream into froggy.

"i could have done it," he complains half-heartedly.

his mother purses her lips at him, but sighs and turns back to the task at hand. "when you're older."

froggy's head is quickly screwed on, and jun all but snatches it from her. he jogs towards the porch door, and then back towards the stool. carrying it under his arm, he places it back beside the fridge, and then zooms back out the porch door.

beyond the porch door is a brighter expanse of green and blue. grandpa is seated in his rocking chair, hands folded over his stomach. the wind chimes tinkle lazily in a breeze, sparkling pink and silver in the sun. jun walks slowly over to grandpa, watching his chest rise and fall evenly.

the black glasses are still perched on his nose. there could be imprints beneath them by now. on further inspection, the skin around and below his eyes are paler than the rest of his face. jun giggles, hugging froggy to his chest.

and then grandpa is blinking an eye open at jun. his lips - cracked and dry - lifting into a kind smile.

"ready?"

jun nods eagerly. "yes!"

with much effort, grandpa pulls himself to his feet and steps over the rocking chair. he offers a wrinkly hand to jun, who grabs it, and runs a thumb over jun's knuckles.

they begin the walk to the sea.

-

the path taken is exactly as jun remembers it. the trees above arch into a covering, respite from the baking sun. jun marches on clumsily, stepping too harshly on the leaf litter and scattered stones.

"can we get ice cream later," jun says.

grandpa is a little more quiet than he remembers. "sure."

"can we also get cola?"

grandpa ruffles his hair kindly. "sure."

pumping his fist into the air, jun laughs, skipping over a small stream of water running under his feet.

light filters into the covering, highlighting the edges of wrinkly tree barks and beady, beaming beetles. jun tilts his head up, and then lets it fall all the way back to marvel at the lattice coursework of leaves against a bright blue sky. somehow he stops walking, leaving his grandpa's older, sunken steps to echo alone a little away.

there is always something magnificent about the smallest detail; this is wonder at the world for existence we have come to deny - gratitude is a spell to break the curse of time.

jun blinks, and glances back down. they are close to the sea now - he can taste the salt in the air.

something beckons him to the right. he turns in the direction, and finds another cottage hidden in the trees. there's no smoke coming from its chimney, and everything is covered in moss or vines. jun frowns. it's a new cottage to his memory, but everything about it screams old and abandoned.

for some reason, he feels like it's not the first time he's seeing it. captivated, jun finds his shoulders turning along with the rest of his body, and

"jun!" his grandpa calls.

the spell breaks. jun tightens his hold on froggy, and sprints back to where grandpa is.

"who lives there?" jun asks, finger pointing to the trees.

grandpa squints in the direction, considering. "it used to... probably no one lives there now."

jun nods. "oh. it's covered in wild plants."

grandpa looks down at jun, and smiles. "come on, or we'll miss most of the boats."

jun grabs grandpa's hand, and marches towards the clearing. the mess of trees and bushes and clacking cicadas give way to soil, and then wash out into clear bright sand.

-

the house is less exciting at dinner time. his father sweeps the books off the table and onto the coffee table. there are cracked porcelain plates and mismatched metal cutlery by the side, still dripping from the rinse. his mother is stirring a wooden spoon noisily, and the taste of salt wafts through the door when they enter.

"you're back late," his mother chides absently.

jun nods apologetically, but turns to share a smile with grandpa. at his father's glance, he hides his sticky fingers behind his back, wrapped around froggy. the corner of his mouth still tastes like chocolate and vanilla.

"go take a shower," his mother adds. "give me the bottle."

"i'll wash it myself!" jun pipes up.

his mother raises an eyebrow suspiciously, her proffered hand waiting. jun bites his lip, but pulls froggy out from behind his back and delivers it haltingly into her hand. froggy's guilty, stained face stares back up at her.

to grandpa, she says, "you shouldn't let him eat ice cream before dinner."

he shakes his head, placing warm, steady palms on jun's shoulders. "it's hot outside. go shower."

jun nods, scurrying up and away from the rising foam of an argument. the stairs don't carry weight well, and groan every time he runs up them.

the second floor unfurls into darkness, and only comes into view when his eyes have adjusted. blurry outlines of furniture sharpen immediately when he presses a switch somewhere above his head on the wall. the pencil lead he'd pressed into the wallpaper is still there from the previous summers, decked just above the printed lace.

jun grins at the mark, comparing it to his current height. a gap, surely. a sign of growth - maybe he'll lose his baby teeth by the end of this summer.

at the end of the hallway is another window. at first, he wonders if the blinking light is a reflection of the kaleidoscopic lamp he and grandpa painted. but upon closer inspection, the light is bright orange and small and desperate.

"a light?" he cups his hands over the glass.

it's coming from beyond the arch, somewhere in the middle of all the trees. jun thinks back to the cottage from the afternoon.

"maybe there is someone living there," jun whispers, breath fogging up the window.

there are sudden steps rising up the stairs, so jun flees into his room and begins to gather his clothes hastily. he yelps and ducks into the bathroom right opposite his room just in time, slamming the door too loudly.

-

the next morning is awfully quiet, save for the twittering of birds. with easy, cautious steps, jun descends from the stairs, fingers pressed close to the wall.

still air stirs drowsily where the light hits, exposing specks of dust orbiting around the dining table. behind that, there's a short little mug by the sink, waiting. when jun skids towards the counter he finds it to be a red herring; no one else is awake to share this peace.

froggy lies in two halves, uncapped, on a towel. it beams a golden shimmer at jun. outside, the garden is roused, and the flowers are swaying precariously by their stems. the greenery extends as far as the eye can see, closing into a darker shade past the arch.

the owl clock on the wall behind him ticks meticulously. he'll still have a bit of time before they wake up for breakfast. maybe. if he's fast enough.

seizing the momentary shiver in his chest, jun waddles to the door. and then back, to froggy. he picks it up, fills it with water from the tap, and caps it again. froggy smiles reassuringly despite its missing right eye. jun traces a thumb over it.

mother must have been angry, or distracted last night.

and then he's off, pushing the door open and balancing his weight on the other side so it doesn't shut too loudly. his shoes from yesterday are still beside the pillar. jamming his feet into them proves to be too much of an effort, so he puts froggy down and tugs on the collar of his patched sneakers hurriedly.

it's a little crumpled, but now that he's fully clothed in intent, he has to make his getaway. with a friend in hand, jun sprints. past the arch, blurring past the trees, edging closer to the brush of leaves and branches. the forest is alive, thick and sweet with morning secrets.

his laughter strings him along, winds him up till the small stream of water under his feet. stopping immediately, his arms flail back and forth, grasping at air.

there.

the cottage is still there. it's weathered and listless among this lush scenery. jun walks towards it anyway, pushing away long stalks of grass and trudging through soft soil. it feels gross, but curiosity wins out, and his eyes never leave the mysterious cottage.

there is something beautiful about the ruins - the cracks of windows run like cobwebs, and the chipped off paint is a spotted pattern running along the walls. even the metal of the door is rusting, gleaming bronze-brown in the light. the moss has outdone itself.

all in all, a fantastic discovery.

"who are you?"

jun spins around. it's a boy in a wheelchair. he's scrawny.

and a little irritated. with a scowl, the boy repeats, "who are you?"

jun grips onto froggy. "i'm jun. this is froggy."

the boy pats his threadbare blanket. "froggy?"

"this is froggy." jun raises his flask, and then pulls it back down behind him. "who are you?"

"minghao," the boy says slowly.

jun nibbles on his lower lip. he doesn't really know what to talk about - there's one thing he'd like to ask, however. but that would be rude.

minghao ignores him and wheels determinedly towards the cottage.

"do you live here?" jun says, awed when minghao procures a key and jams it into the doorknob.

minghao doesn't bother looking at him. "yes."

"yeye said no one lives here!"

minghao doesn't reply him, but leaves the door open anyway. jun takes a quick glance around the cottage, and zips right in.

there's no mat on the ground, and the shoe rack looks halfway obliterated, so jun kicks his sneakers off to the corner. minghao doesn't seem to wear any shoes though.

"where are your parents?" jun asks, standing awkwardly at the door.

minghao's pushing himself into another room. he doesn't answer. there are a lot of things he's not telling jun, and it's kind of frustrating. maybe jun shouldn't ask so many questions.

he continues to stand at the door, craning his neck to see the rest of the living room from his position. there are white, moth-eaten curtains hanging limply by the windows. the couch too seems old and unused. several black frames of old, yellowing photographs are hanging on the walls, and there's even a calligraphy scroll draped next to the cabinets.

"what are you doing?" minghao says, wheeling past the doorway.

he looks irritated, but that look is bolstered by something else - his mouth's turned down in a frown, and his eyes are wide. minghao looks scared, like jun's going to run off.

jun scratches his cheek. "i'm coming in."

"then come in faster," minghao says, and zooms off towards the couches.

jun takes the offer. the house expands into a quaint, angular space with hallways on either side leading into dark spaces. there's a dream catcher and a string of iridescent shells hanging from the ceiling. as jun enters the room, the green on one of them morphs into a sparkly blue. amazed, he stumbles backwards - it turns green again.

"wow, these shells are pretty," jun says. "did you pick them yourself?"

minghao lights up. "they're from the sea."

jun nods. "you are good at choosing."

minghao takes a careful sip of his water.

"have you been to the beach?"

minghao hesitates for a moment, and shakes his head. "no."

"but there are a lot of shells there," jun exclaims, and then shrivels up when the glint of minghao's wheelchair catches him by surprise.

minghao scowls. "i know."

quietly, jun shuffles to a couch and plops down into its fluffy, scratchy surface. it wheezes heavily. in front of him, minghao has placed two glasses of water on the table. jun carefully sets froggy down beside him, and the traitor rolls away into a dip in the sofa.  

"how long have you been here?" jun asks instead, patting the condensation away from under the glass.

minghao tilts his head. "a few days."

"that's why i haven't seen you before," jun says.

minghao doesn't say anything, only continuing to drink from his glass. jun watches, eyes sharp and bright - something about this is extraordinary, like a dream. questions race past his mind in a flurry of excitement, skipping from one assumption to the next. he tries to say something, but can't find it in himself to break the silence.

instead, he looks past minghao's nonchalant face and out the other window where the curtains are. his eyes slide over the tinted greenery and up the wooden carvings of the walls, then down to the covered dresser and the tiny clock perched on it. it's red and black, spotted like a ladybug.

"ah! it's eight-" he squeals, and minghao's eyes grow wide.

jun jumps to his feet, just as minghao says, "eight?"

jun nods, running to the doorway and tugging his sneakers on. "i've gotta go, sorry, minghao, i'll come back later! bye!"

with those butterfingers, he crosses and recrosses uncooperative laces around his shoes. finally, with a pinched groan, he leaves the laces untied, and pushes the door open, stumbling out into the light. a quick glance into the house tells him that minghao hasn't moved - jun shakes his head, and begins the sprint up towards grandpa's house.

-

grandpa takes him to town immediately after breakfast. jun stares blearily around the area while grandpa pauses to talk to a storeman. the entire place is narrower than the city, with only one road in the middle and no stop signs or speeding limits.

the railings closest to him are spotty and dark green. jun blinks again, and tugs at the collar of his polo shirt. it's dark blue and heavy and the material feels harder than any of his cotton shirts. frowning, jun turns to stare down the road. it dips and winds and curves uncertainly, lit so bright and vulnerable to the rays from the sun. even its shadows seem to murmur conspicuously, the whole scene blurring unfortunately like someone'd spilled water over its colours.

a tabby cat stretches, arches moodily, and then springs off across the street. somewhere above him, behind him, a bell rings, and a door closes. jun closes his eyes too, tries to dissect the living gasp and sigh of everything around him, tries not to put a name to these actions - something whining, then of wood swinging to a thud, followed by the jiggling of glass. a door, then.

the conclusion finally satisfies him, so jun opens his eyes again - squeezing them shut at the light, and then gingerly opening them.

"...that your grandson?" the storeman asks, tugging out a wrapped chocolate treat from her pocket.

grandpa ruffles jun's hair. "yes. jun, greet the sister."

jun bows slightly. "hello, sister."

the storeman laughs and hands him the treat. "so obedient. how old are you?"

"ten," jun says. "thank you."

the storeman nods, and turns back to grandpa. "nowadays the kids are moving to the city."

grandpa sighs. "everyone's moving to the city."

at this, jun perks up. "why are they moving to the city?"

the storeman gives grandpa a look, and then lowers herself - she's not quite a figure, but she's broad around the shoulders and her tan head is covered by a flimsy straw hat. she looks jun straight in the eye, and then right past him to the street around them.

"you're from the city, aren't you?" she says suddenly, flicking jun in the forehead and then chuckling.

jun clutches his forehead and stumbles back. indignantly, he cries, "but i like being here with yeye!"

the storeman and grandpa share a laugh. jun's face flushes, and his eyes narrow. he doesn't like being ganged up on. but before he can protest, the storeman is drawing herself up to her full height again.

"they're not going to stop the construction, you know," she says to grandpa. "this place is an important harbour."

grandpa looks into the storeman's face. "are you moving out too, shun?"

the storeman meets his gaze resolutely. "yeah. i've found a place in the next town. small, but bigger than here."

the severity of her tone dips a few notches when she stretches her arms behind her head. "well, they're always herding us folks inwards."

grandpa nods, sighing. he pats the storeman on the shoulder, and tilts his head towards the road. "right. we'll get going then."

the storeman tips her straw hat, and smiles back at grandpa. she gives jun a wink, too, at which jun hurrumphs and whips his head away. he curls his fingers around the chocolate candy, annoyed.

"have a nice day, mr wen!" the storeman says, waving. "you too, boy."

jun pouts, stomping on gravel and kicking at stray pebbles. his grandpa indulges him by staying silent, only pointing out pigeons or waving to other rare passers-by along the street.

"who's she, yeye?" jun finally says.

"shun - she's an old friend. honest; a good lady." grandpa says. "she's been taking care of all the old folks here for a while."

jun glances up at grandpa. "even yeye?"

grandpa smiles. "even me, jun."

at that, jun bristles. he turns his head back to where the shop is. from this distance, the street is warped by the heat into an inconsolable mess of faint shapes. he can barely make out the wooden board sticking out from the front door.

"i'll take care of yeye!" jun announces.

his grandpa smiles, unfolding a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his dotted face. its crisp, folded lines seem to wilt under the weight of this damp humidity.

for a long time, he doesn't reply. jun looks forward, and continues marching down the road. a pinwheel perched in the flowerpot by the lamp post surges with a temporary vitality. then it droops, heaving itself up and failing to spin over. jun squats down and blows at it. the pinwheel, ticklish, gives a shy whirl.

"i'm not moving to the city, jun," grandpa says finally.

the answer comes easily to jun. "then i'll move in with yeye."

-

a slab of fish steams blue and quick-silver on the plate. when jun tilts his head, the scales sparkle coyly, shooting electric green flashes before turning grey once again when he looks away. its eye, round and white, stares unflinchingly up and away.

father's fingers interrupt the scene, gruffly pinching at a lime and squeezing the orb into harsh halves. jun carefully adjusts his wooden chopsticks, hooking his ankles and hoping the quiet, tight-lipped glares don't mean anything.

grandpa sits down to his right, at the head of the table. he's not smiling, even when mother places a bowl of rice before him. she hurries back to the pot. jun looks out the window, past mother's stiff back and towards the covering. now, however, it's only black and creeping, with the floating reflection of his mother's furrowed brows and the incomplete dining table. the fish, glowing sinister and sepia, swims with disembodied merriment every time jun moves.

when mother sits down, jun starts to greet everyone. his voice trails off even before he gets to his father.

"alright, let's eat," his mother ushers a slice of fish into his bowl. "before it gets cold."

jun glances at grandpa from the corners of his eye. grandpa slowly picks up his chopsticks, and shovels more vegetables into jun's bowl. carrots and peekaboo mushrooms tangle between leafy greens, soaking his rice with a thick, golden sauce.

for good measure, jun whittles a smile at grandpa. grandpa winks back.

only then does jun bring his bowl up to his face, breathe in the sweet, viscous warmth, and begin to eat. the dull clank of cutlery continues for a few moments. jun tears his face away from the comforting darkness of his bowl, if only to pick up more food.

"eat slowly," his mother says, just as

his father turns to grandpa. "come back with us."

the kind smile slips off mother's face. she turns her head, almost imperceptibly, towards father. jun cleverly puts his chopsticks down, shifting forward in his seat, ready.

grandpa pretends not to hear anything. he places more mushrooms in jun's messy bowl.

"come back with us," his father says again. "they're evicting you-"

grandpa sets his chopsticks down firmly. sound drains out through the slit below the doors, and time slows imperceptibly to a torturous, ticking halt. jun doesn't dare lift his eyes, tracing the wavy patterns on his bowl instead. there's a ring of light on its glazed red surface, flickering. if he concentrates, he can see puffs of steam from the rice, still.

"why are you so stubborn?" his father asks, ignoring his mother's hiss.

grandpa doesn't reply.

"the whole town's going to pieces; they're going to build the port and you can't change anything." his father's voice is rising steadily.

jun shrinks into himself, just as grandpa slowly gets to his feet.

something snaps in father; he slams his palm on the table. "you can't change anything!"

grandpa, in a trance, hobbles out of the dining room and up the stairs. jun doesn't remember the stretch of time - doesn't know exactly what he's done until the scratching of a chair against the floor and clattering of a door catches up to him midway in the hollow of a forest's sigh.

his sneakers, untucked and unlaced, crinkle around loose leaves. an owl's haunting hoot echoes from somewhere above. jun pants, crouching in on himself, grabbing at his knees.

the darkness of the forest unfurls around him, tempting with feather-light breezes and an unsettling feeling of being touched. he retracts his arm into his chest, blinking. his heart races against his fist, aching bitterly.

jun wipes at his cheeks, and tries to look for moonlight. there's rustling, and then a couple of concerned shouts from behind. jun tenses, glancing back into the vague, white outlines of the cottage. he should go back.

but - the blinking orange light, now bigger and gem-like, catches his eye.

"minghao," jun whispers.

the light wheezes in and out of existence, becoming fainter. jun makes up his mind. he stumbles forward, toeing with sheer faith and memory, pushing past shadowy branches.

the stream sighs under his feet, damp and cold.

-

the cottage stutters into existence, unwittingly transformed. in the faint moonlight, jun can barely make out its silhouette. the only thing certain is perhaps the jotted outline of a door and a yellow, shaded window to the side.

"minghao!" jun whispers, leaning up against a tree trunk.

something rustles behind him. jun tenses, almost glancing back, but steels himself just in time -

don't look back, don't look.

"minghao," he tries again, courage trapped in a coarse whisper.

there are no answers. jun steps out of the foliage, and then breaks into a run up the slotted slabs that lead to minghao's cottage. the door, gaily ajar, teeters on edge. his fingers come up to its cool, indecisive surface, and pushes, hard. light showers his fingers in bright, geometric gold.

"i'm coming in!" jun announces, peeling his sneakers off.

nothing. jun frowns, hopping as he proceeds to tug his other shoe off. a quick survey of the floor reveals no other shoes present at the doorway.

"did he go out?" jun wonders.

as he enters the living room, previously unnoticed details surge to the eye - a keyboard hidden carefully amidst stout cabinets, a lace doily draped over it, a tiny cylindrical vase standing purposefully above it. his eyes trail over to the keyboard, and then to the tattered books behind its shadows.

jun squats down, carefully pulling the books out. he plops down to sit instead, eyeing the spines of each weathered series. they're full of symbols he doesn't understand, and some of them are proper words interlaced with odd curves or shapes.

unlike the keyboard however, these books aren't dusty. they're sandpapery and thin like butterfly wings between his fingers - old, but not abandoned.

"does he read these?" jun mutters.

he puts them away and pushes himself up to his feet. the keyboard is almost as tall as he is, slanting matte and unhappy in its corner.

a gust of wind sobers him, and the lace doily sprawls out to better cover the keyboard. this is not his house. an unwilling heap of emotions and events from earlier come tumbling down onto him, now that the imagined danger has passed. jun shuffles over to the couch and lies down, curling into himself. he'll just wait here until minghao comes back, or until morning comes.

-

he wakes up to the rustling of fabric. someone's tucked a blanket around him, an imprint of warmth still lingering on his shoulder. jun sits up, letting the blanket fall.

"...hao?" he mumbles.

it's navy blue and black now; the place is emptier when everything has morphed into shadows and almost-faces. but jun isn't scared. there's more to this darkness. the moonlight falters, shifts surreptitiously, swimming on the floorboards.

"water?" there's a trail of it, darker and shimmering. it leads down the hallway into a rhombus of ochre light.

jun gets up. for some reason, he knows that this is minghao -  or at least, the way minghao went. there's something inexplicable about that blinking orange light at the end of the hallway, something so close and yet still far away.

come, it says, breezing through his thin cotton shirt.

jun supplies the rest. his hesitant pace changes into a quick run when the light winks a final time and fizzles into the darkness.

"wait!" jun shouts. but his voice is trapped in like a jelly, muffled and viscous. "waitwaitwaitwaitwait!"

panic stirs in his chest. it's bright sparks and spooky branches in his face and the overwhelming chill of the leaf litter between his toes.

he knows this is minghao. he knows minghao needs someone. needs him.

the ground breaks into sandy, pebbled grounds, and then the blur of black trunks is swept away by the vast exhale of a sky. the moon disappears between grey cloud streamers, and the only sound left is the rush of waves frothing against the beach.

come, it says again, still and salty against his cheeks.

from the depths of the inky sea, an orange orb rises. it's bright but not too bright, wobbling in the thick pull of currents. like a dull sun. or a special moon.

jun climbs up the narrow pier, placing one foot in front of the other, crouching as close to the water as he can.

it's bubbling. the sea feels agitated somehow. there's an incessant vibration or swirling that's buzzing against the wooden planks of the pier. like something's about to break through.

jun wraps an arm around the bottom of the column and lowers himself, his free hand skimming the surface of the ocean. it's not cold - the currents are gentler than they seem, barely flinching when the tip of his fingers trail against its hurried facade.

it doesn't feel like water at all. just a strange, heated calm.

the orb is just out of reach. if he'd just stretch a bit more... jun hisses when the uneven dip of the column leads to a coarse, splintered patch. he doesn't let go, though.

just a little bit more...

and then he does.

the resulting splash is swallowed by a glutinous heat, wide and generous around him. jun strains to keep his eyes open, strains to catch a glimpse of another string of blinking blue-green lights in the distance.

like a tail, his mind supplies. it flickers lazily and then fades into the gulf.

the orange light captures him in its translucent palm, and lulls him into a soundless sleep.

-

jun wakes up. "minghao!"

he's back on the couch again. the blanket is pooled around his legs, tangled, like he's been struggling among them.

the sun's up. everything is well-lit and defined. there's a tangy sort of warmth on his arm where the rays are hitting. behind the couch, the curtains waltz without rhythm, swinging back and forth listlessly.

jun wipes the sweat off his neck. it's cold.

the hallway before him leads to a dead end. the floor is dry. everything is stale again.

beside him, froggy stands protectively on the coffee table.

-

he's on the porch with yeye again. only this time, they're folding cranes and windmills.

jun doesn't mind origami. there's a quiet reverence for perfect folds and pin-pricked precision he holds. that, and anyway, at the end of each routine, he finds a sense of wonder in each petite creation.

cradling his latest pet, he pinches it by the tail and sets it next to froggy. the pink crane flops on its side as soon as jun lets go.

"yeye," jun says. "is mom still angry?"

the comforting creak of grandpa's rocking chair doesn't falter. he's still folding tiny squares into familiar shapes with his eyes closed. jun looks down at his hands, and then picks up another leaf of origami paper.

grandpa's the only one who hasn't asked him where he went. in the midst of pinched nose-bridges and huffy sighs or condensed yelling, grandpa had carefully slid out of the kitchen and winked at jun to leave his parents to argue over themselves.

it's a secret jun wants to keep for himself.

"if you fold a thousand, you can make a wish," grandpa says, leaning forward in his rocking chair to place a lithe blue crane on the ledge.

jun nods. he unwraps the origami paper and begins folding a windmill instead. because of all its previous folds, the windmill comes out creased and wilting. "okay."

grandpa shuts his eyes again. "come back before dinner."

jun turns to grandpa. his hands are interlaced over his stomach, and his shoulders are rising evenly. for a moment, jun thinks grandpa's fallen asleep. but then, he opens an eye and smiles ever so slightly at jun.

jun whirls back to see a quiet, unmoving interior through the kitchen window. then, easily, he grabs froggy and his shoes, and sprints down into the clearing.

grandpa continues rocking his chair. the paper crane by the ledge drifts down, tumbling towards the rest of the coloured, unmade squares.

-

sitting across minghao feels surreal. the same cottage is decidedly more humane now, and jun belatedly recognises the blanket across minghao's torso as the one around his last night.

minghao raises an eyebrow at his staring. "so?"

"um?" jun pipes up. it's more of a squeak than anything.

"why are you here."

jun wraps his fingers around froggy's cylindrical body. "you weren't here last night."

minghao blinks up at him. "yes."

"...thank you. for the blanket." it shouldn't be so weird, but he figures that rather than explaining the whole dream-like sequence of lights and waters, this is easier.

minghao flushes slightly. "it's alright."

"um!" jun says eloquently. "do you want to go to the beach?"

behind the rim of his teacup, minghao's eyes sparkle. he hums noncommittally, and then sets the ceramic cup down on its saucer.

"i can't stay away from the cottage for too long," minghao answers softly.

jun tries not to let his face fall. "oh."

there's a bit of a silence as minghao toys with the handle of his cup. he seems less guarded than he did previously, but the furrow of his brows are telling of some deep concerns.

jun fumbles with a suitable activity to occupy their time with. he searches his pockets, and comes up with little leftover squares. they're a little dog-eared and soft, but still.

"do you know how to fold cranes?" jun asks, sliding the papers onto the coffee table.

minghao scrunches up his nose. "fold cranes?"

jun picks one and deftly demonstrates. minghao leans in, hunching over the table to look.

"see," jun says, tweaking the head a little and placing it in minghao's small hands. "a crane."

"wow," minghao says, and the awe makes jun preen a little.

he's careful with the paper crane, tilting his head side to side in dedicated examination. then minghao smiles. it's a nice departure from the usual stony look he gives jun, like he's assessing his worth or whether he's going to run off.

"you can have it," jun says eagerly when minghao turns back to look at him.

"really?" his smile broadens.

"yeah! we can fold more!" jun says.

minghao places the delicate little thing on the table, his eyes following after its quaint shape. "teach me."

jun does exactly that. his hands are slightly larger than minghao's, but surprisingly, more meticulous and practiced. minghao sticks his tongue out, concentrating on the perplexing geometricity of a simple bird. his first crane comes out war-torn and crumpled, with an uneven wing span.

but that's no matter. minghao treats this bird with the same respect and adoration as jun's, and allows it to cling to the first crane's side.

they run through the stack of origami papers, and soon minghao's cranes are slightly less droopy than his first attempts. when pink finishes, there's orange.

"are you always with froggy?" minghao asks.

jun nods. "he's my friend."

minghao's cheeks blush, and he peeks up at jun. "like me?"

"yeah," jun answers quickly.

minghao smiles down at his crane. jun slides more squares towards him with a shy smirk.

"yeye says if we make a thousand, we can make a wish!" jun chimes.

minghao's eyes widen. "a wish?"

jun nods. "i think i'm going to wish for... staying here! what about you?"

minghao takes a piece of paper. "hmm, i don't know. and anyway, if it's the two of us, won't it take two thousand?"

"whaaat," jun groans, and then turns bashful at his display. "but we're not adults, so maybe our wish is half an adult's wish."

minghao bows his head. "is that so."

jun pinches his own crane into sharpness. "do you want to? make a thousand?"

"sure," minghao says, without thinking twice. his hands are already cramping up.

jun knows it. he grins at minghao, toothy and bursting at the seams. somehow his face feels alight, glowing and giddy. minghao mirrors his joy, and the two of them return to folding more cranes, hope pulsing through their fingers in a circuit between their hunched, lowered heads.

-

dinner is a quiet affair. they have fish again.

mother tucks him into bed. the quilt is puffy and cool against his legs. she looks tired, and her shoulders gripped by a fear of inactivity.

jun peeks out from under the quilt, fingers curling around its ends. "mom?"

"yes, jun?"

"are you angry?" he says.

she places a hand on the quilt, and sighs. "no."

there's a thought running through her mind. he can see that in the unfocused glaze of her eyes and the pursing of her lips.

"why did dad raise his voice?"

she blinks. "hm?"

"at the dinner," jun mumbles. "he was shouting at yeye."

she pats his head. "your grandpa is very stubborn. we want the best for him."

"to move in with us?" he can't imagine yeye stuck in the aloof, minimalist corners of their high-rise apartment.

she smiles, small. "yes. wouldn't you like that?"

he would. but it's off. jun struggles to explain himself, the concept twisting in and out in his chest. the paper ornaments overhead agree.

"what's 'eviction'?" he asks instead, remembering the word.

she sighs again. "will you sleep if i answer this?"

"yes," he says; she looks pained.

humming listlessly, she pats his head gently. "remember the fish we ate for dinner?"

"mmhmm."

"was it good?"

"yeah."

"well, to catch these fish," she says slowly, "we have to make a fishing harbour. and to do that, we need to change up the area around the sea."

"change up?"

"build roads or markets for the fishermen who catch the fish," she says, lines growing on her forehead. "and grandpa's house is in the way."

"oh," jun says. he doesn't know what else to say.

mother exhales again, and puts on a kind smile for jun. reaching over, she presses a kiss to his forehead, and tugs on the cord of his bedside lamp.

"goodnight," she says.

"goodnight," he whispers, watching her silhouette leave the room.

she takes care to shut the door gently, leaving the cool blue moonlight to shape parallelograms on the floor instead.

-

for some reason, he's in minghao's wheelchair now, and in minghao's cottage. he starts to wheel himself past the couch, and for the smallest fraction of a second, jun thinks he might just wheel himself down the hallway and past the wall. it's a strange thought; its strangeness amplified by how naturally it occurs to him.

but everything's still the same - the lace doily, the curtains, and ladybug clock, and the dead end at the back of the hallway. jun rubs his eyes.

cold, salty air gushes past him, sending him reeling back. the wheelchair is gone now, and the blanket falls from his legs like a second skin shredded. it escapes into a multitude of iridescent shells, fluttering in the wind. when jun picks them up, they unfold into tiny squares with uneasy creases.

come, the voice beckons.

he looks up. minghao's beaming face bobs up and down on the coastline. so he goes.

it's easier than he'd imagined - but then again, this is all in his head - to weave through the currents. minghao maintains a safe distance however, and the grin wanes into a coy, apprehensive look.

"where are you from?" jun asks.

minghao dives into the waters, and resurfaces slightly closer. "are you coming?"

"where?" it's getting harder to stay afloat; his arms are useless when he tries to paddle.

minghao's face sours, and then breaks out into a panic. "no- you have to get out of here!"

"what?" jun shouts. "why?"

behind him, the bellowing of horns and grinding gear echo. he turns to see towering shadows against a mist. ships.

there's a burning red glow from under the sea. it's hot, and heavy, and suddenly the water is too thick. jun flaps his arms, kicking with all his might.

"get out of here!" minghao's yelling. his voice is too far away.

the red glow blazes on, corrupting the waters and turning them into oiled black lacquer. jun raises an arm, and sees his fingers begin to harden, taking on the morbid shape of a crisp, clean triangle. a wing.

"jun!"

-

he sits up, panting. his fingers are still clammy.

thank god.

with a sigh, he plunges back down onto the bed.

-

"yeye, are mermaids real?"

he's toying with the paper windmills on shun's store windows.

grandpa perches on the chair that shun had brought out earlier. his tea sits untouched after the customary first sip. shun's bustling around in the store, shifting boxes here and there.

grandpa's eyes twinkle. he uncrosses his legs and leans in, ready to listen. "did you see one?"

jun frowns. "i... think so?"

he dreamt it, but the distinction hardly matters - it's a truth that settles snugly in the corner of his chest. maybe he's being stupid. the awareness of what his parents would say, what his mother would chide, stings uncomfortably on his tongue.

but grandpa, and this store, exist outside of that. down here, everything is drawn in chalk and pastels and a sort of quiet that never questions its own silence. these are the two worlds jun has grown up in, an inside and an outside that he must inevitably navigate without offending either boundaries.

"we were in the water. he was," jun begins to say, finger just missing the tip of the windmill. "telling me to go."

and then, faintly, he hears himself mutter, "i think he's hurt his tail."

the door chooses to open now, sparking off a cacophony of tinkling. an old lady hobbles in, exchanges hushed greetings with grandpa, and then moves deeper into the store where shun is. the shuffling of cardboard and paper pauses briefly.

"jun," his grandpa says seriously, "do you know where we get our fish from?"

"mom says they're building a harbour for it."

a shroud of something comes over grandpa's face. the corners of his mouth tighten.

"she's right," he says. "but the sea is bigger than any harbour."

the old lady from before hobbles back out the door. jun's eyes follow her aching back before trailing back to grandpa. mint-green triangles wink against wrinkled skin, courtesy of the tiled wall beside them. it's an old design, the juxtaposition of colours from an era where cheer was luxury and poverty was abundant. shun takes a break to join them, pouring herself some tea.

"they're performing a ritual later, are you coming?" shun says, dipping her biscuits into the tea.

jun blanches. the storeman merely bites down into her soggy snacks and chews obnoxiously. jun shrivels in his seat.

"the gods will not be happy," grandpa sighs. "it's a mess."

"the office'd send them an eviction notice if they could," shun says lightly. "nowadays a prayer is a joss stick and a fire."

"gods?" jun echoes. he knows of those - in huge, furnished temples, or hanging off crucifixes.

"ya haven't heard of them, city boy?" shun jokes.

she wrestles his scowl into submission, ruffling his hair and pinching his nose harshly. jun winces, and shakes himself loose. she chortles, digging into her pocket to retrieve a chocolatey apology. he takes it grudgingly and thanks her anyway - if only because grandpa is watching.

"he says he's seen a mermaid," grandpa continues, as though this is a common sight.

"yeye!" jun almost shrieks. he does not shriek.

to his shock, shun doesn't take the bait to tease him. in fact, the entire exchange seems as normal as discussing the weather.

without missing a beat, shun turns to him. "how much do you know about mermaids?"

"i- i don't know if he's one," jun mumbles.

shun rubs her chin. "well, they usually have tails. though there are definitely accounts of mermaids who can walk, breathe and all on land."

"mi- he can't walk," jun says. "he's in a wheelchair."

"a wheelchair?" shun echoes, incredulous. she turns to grandpa. "mr wen, this isn't good."

grandpa presses his lips together in a tight line.

she shakes her head, scratching her scalp. to jun, she says, "you know, if the ocean's dirty, the fish die. if that mermaid of yours is hurt, whatever hurts him is still out there."

"the ships!" jun exclaims, before promptly slapping a hand over his mouth. "do you think the ships - they're building the harbour, mom said."

shun softens. "he's your friend, no?"

to that, he nods.

shun continues, exchanging a careful look with grandpa. "you better tell him to leave."

-

the ritual takes place on the beach. a couple of adults in polo shirts and khaki pants and work belts shift their helmets to the sides before standing in line. they've got silvery cans with them and joss sticks in the other hand. jun learns that the drink fizzes, and reeks of a sour, musky stench.

"what's that," he whispers to grandpa, pointing at the cans the workers are pouring into the sea.

"beer," grandpa says curtly. "offerings."

one of them flicks open his lighter, snapping it irately thrice. the joss stick finally catches on fire, but is immediately extinguished by the swing of the worker's arm.

it still glows, though. orange. jun turns to the sea, calm unlike his dreams, and shudders. grandpa's hand is on his shoulder immediately.

the workers nod a couple of times, raise their joss sticks to the sky, and bow down. before he knows it, the act is complete, and they end up tossing the joss sticks into a plastic bag. the cans, they hold over their gaping mouths, sucking around its rim for a final quench.

"...nothing left, hah," one of them says gruffly, and jams it into the plastic bag.

"you emptied the entire thing," the other says, knotting the bulging bag.

jun waits until they leave before falling to his knees and belching. nothing comes out, which is just as bad. his throat scorches, and there are tears in his eyes that aren't purely just discomfort. the sand is granular and prickly between his fists, and the sea sweeps a broad sigh into his ears.

"i don't feel good," he manages to mumble.

grandpa pushes his bangs away from his sticky forehead. shun jabs at his back in an attempt to be comforting.

far away, a voice bids his name. the word crinkles and creases neatly, tucked under the muffled echoes of each wave. it doesn't fade away even when he sleeps.

come.

come.

come.

"where?" jun says, the words slurring into the hollow. "where do i go?"

he sits up. the sweltering chill of blankets tangled around his limbs suddenly feel like nets. he jerks his feet away from them, flinging his arms out and rolling to the ground.

his bum hurts. "ouch."

gentle kneading his knuckles into his back doesn't help, so he gets up, and puts one foot in front of the other. in a drowsy haze, he makes it to the windows where three cream shells are leaning.

they're brittle, but hard. between his thumb and forefinger, each whirl or twist seems like an inexplicable impulse of god, even and well parted at shapely, minute distances. a restless ringing shivers through his chest, and then down to his toes. he brings it up to his ear, cupping it close.

the sound of the sea is bare. it's small, so jun places the shell back down. and then he looks out of the window.

the orange light is blinking in the woods again. jun bites down on his inner cheek, hand hovering over the small shell still.

-

his indecision leads him off the path, just as the orange light whizzes in and out of sight between shards of the forest. he presses on, unsure if this is a dream, or if the silence is a silence of his own, draped over his heart.

the light vanishes when he reaches a kissing gate. it's no longer teasing, no longer coy. instead, he's left with a pallid blue fence, showered in dew droplets and fallen leaves. jun looks up, finds no answers in the complicated weave of leaves, and then around him. save for the kissing gate, there are no markers.

but somehow he knows. this is the same darkened cove of trees he sprinted past, out of minghao's cottage. if he turns, he will see the bright golden rhombus that leads past the hallway into minghao's living room.

the ground beneath him is cold and wet. stray scales line the path with twinkling eyes, flashing blue and green, blue and green.

he turns away from the kissing gate that will lead to the beach, and follows the ground. mud squelches with every step, sticky and benign.

one of the scales is pierced on a stray blade of grass. in the vague moonlight, it looks almost translucent and precious. he leans down and tries to pick it up. it shatters. blinks into blue sparkles and extinguishes.

jun keeps moving. soon he reaches the cottage, where it's more damp and the trail marks are more obvious. the scales are still clinging onto the side of the path.

when he rounds the house, minghao's wheelchair is abandoned. there are more scales on the seat and wheels. jun squares his shoulders. the door is ajar this time too, paused in motion as though offering him a chance to turn away.

he doesn't.

the trail of water and scales lead down the other hallway to an open bathroom.

the tail is first, limply dangling along the edges of the bathtub. the next is an arm, stretching out into milky fingers combing through luminous scales.

minghao glances up at him blankly.

the questions desert him. jun paces up to the glittering shock of minghao's face, and takes his hand. it's wet and clammy, but jun holds on tight.

-

minghao lets him play with his scales. these don't fall off or break or vanish along with the rest of him.  

"i'm the only one here now; everyone left when they heard that the humans were coming with their ships," minghao explains. "they thought it wasn't safe anymore."

"what about your parents?"

minghao shrugs. "i don't have parents; mermaids don't have parents. we come from the sea. and besides, there are humans everywhere."

"shun says you should leave," jun mutters. "they're going to build a harbour!"

minghao scowls. he knows that. "i don't want to leave here."

"but it's not safe," jun says.

minghao sulks. "why do i have to leave? i didn't ask for humans to come here."

jun flushes. he's a human, and the thought of having watched the workers' rituals feels incriminating.

"yeye has to leave too," jun says finally. "i - i wish they didn't have to build the harbour."

minghao gives him a look. "then they'd build it somewhere else."

"they won't - if they saw how beautiful it is, how beautiful the sea is," jun stumbles, hands curling into fists in his lap. "if they stop fighting and just saw!"

minghao is silent. he picks stray bits of dust from his scales, and swats at the air with a loose wave of fingers. there's a grimace on his mouth, stretching comically up towards a wrinkled nose.

jun hands him a sponge. his hand misses, and the yellow, spotty thing plops into the water with a tiny splash. it bobs up and down, stumbling under the weight of its tantrum.

"i was scared to leave," minghao says, drawing jun's attention. "the sea was telling me that it was time, but i didn't want to leave everything behind."

he scoops the precocious sponge up, and lets it froth around in his grasp. "so i stayed back. and at first it was okay, but the wish is fading away; my tail's hurt and the legs won't work anymore."

minghao sniffs. he drops the sponge back to its fretful dilemma.

"i'll carry you then!" jun says. "i'll get you back!"

"really?"

jun meets his wide-eyed stare. "yeah. i will."

minghao lowers his head, hiding a bashful smile behind the back of his hand. jun looks at him, splashing tail and wet curly hair bathed in the bluest reckoning of dawn, and

sudden, panicked shouts shred the moment. it's coming from everywhere in the forest around them. the sound carries, looms uneasily in phantom echoes around them. minghao tightens his hold on jun's sleeve.

"i'm gonna see-" jun says, but minghao pulls him down.

"don't leave me alone," minghao cuts in.

jun furrows his brows.

"-tch it, kill it!" shrill disbelief gives way to thoughtless chants, pushes thick and heavy through the clear morning air. "kill it! kill it! kill it!"

"someone's in trouble," jun says. there are bells in his head. none of them chime well. "wait."

he zooms out of the bathroom, out the house, and rattles the wheelchair through the entrance. it clatters and whines against unfortunate corners or bumps in the floor, before finally wheezing to a halt by the bathtub. minghao pushes himself up and onto its plaid seat, wheeling himself out to where jun seizes a blanket. he drapes it over minghao's twitching lap. a dark shadow of minghao's tail colours itself in, before relaxing to take on a valley dip where legs might be hiding beneath.

"i'll be back," jun says.

he sprints to the doorway, jams his feet into hard wooden boards, and winces. the chanting doesn't seem to stop, so he rushes anyway, heart roaring loud and reckless, uncontained by the swallow of a gasp.

they're all workers, tall blue rectangles with white helmets, stacked around the sand. jun pushes past denim-clad thighs, wading against the current of protesting adults. their whispers and shouts crowd in from above.

between a sandy boot and another, he spots something glittering. it blinks red, and then purple the next. jun pushes harder.

it's a tail; that's a mermaid.

someone sneers, their fear seized by an inexplicable rage. the workers are unarmed, but with malice so strong, they may as well be.

"catch it, it's a monster," someone frantically whispers.

the crowd hedges in hesitantly, encouraged.

jun shakes them off his sides and stumbles towards the mermaid. he's heaving, lips cracked and prune-dried.

"boy! get back!" someone hisses at him, raises an arm to drag him back.

"no!" jun yells. he stretches his arms out, keeping an eye out for the people behind as well. "don't hurt him!"

a pause, and then the voices are babbling again, rising to an unnerving crescendo. someone plucks him up by the scruff of his collar, to which he begins to kick, biting the tanned arm right above the gloves. the man grabbing him squawks, releases him chest first into the sand.

"hao," the mermaid whispers, hand scrabbling for purchase.

and then jun is shouting again, scrawny arms latching onto the mermaid, stuffing his head in the crook of his neck. there are hands grabbing at him, pulling him to merciless safety, hunting for a slice of righteousness.

and then a red chariot comes running down the line, parting the crowd. shun, red-faced and panting, sets the wheelbarrow next to them. a hush descends over them when she yells, squatting down to place the ridiculously long mermaid over her shoulder.

"storeman-" someone interjects, grabbing at her wrist.

shun gives him a look, and then back to jun's terrified glassy eyes. she turns back to the man, and decks him in the face.

"i'll punch the next idiot to come near me!" she shouts for good measure, swinging the mermaid down into the wheelbarrow.

deftly avoiding the unconscious body, she pushes the wheelbarrow out of the crowd with surprising speed. jun tears after her. he guides her through the woods, turning back every so often for a glimpse of the circle of adults.

it doesn't occur to him to breathe, at least not until the tip of minghao's cottage can be seen. shun collapses, jerking the wheelbarrow back down with her. the mermaid winces, head bumping against its metallic sides.

"jun? jun, is -mingyu?" minghao's shocked face peeks out from behind the doorway.

shun waves him off, hunching over to get mingyu on her back. "get in."

jun tries to help, palms squirming against the scaly texture of the mermaid's tail. minghao diligently obeys to let them through. shun steps out of her sneakers, kicking them off to the side ungracefully.

"ya got a tub?" shun huffs, knuckles red.

minghao nods, jerking his head towards the bathroom. his eyes never leave mingyu's pale face however, sorting through the sand and dirt bits tangled in his hair. jun hurries behind her, readying the bath.

mingyu's head lolls under her arm, and jolts when his back hits warm water. his eyes blink open, hazy and distant.

only then does shun retreat, backing until she hits the wall and sinking to the ground.

"shun?" jun asks.

she presses a hand into her face, inhaling deeply and choking out laughter. the laughter heightens into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

"shun-?"

"two mermaids," she says, wiping at her eyes. "i'm gonna make some tea."

shun gets up, slotting her body off to the side between minghao’s wheelchair and the wall. with a pensive look, she cards her hand through his hair and gives him a good ruffle. minghao looks up at her, but shun slips out of the way and into the hall.

“come on, jun,” shun shouts. “i need your help with the cups and stuff.”

jun rises to his feet, wet hands clutching at his damp shorts. he nods, and slides out of the tiled room, skidding to a halt when minghao holds his elbow.

minghao's eyes are wet, like he's going to cry, but there's no quivering scowl on his lips that says he's sad. he glances at jun, then back at a bobbing mingyu. a tiny silver of smile shimmers on his mouth.

"thank you."

jun nods, gaze inadvertently lowering to his blanketed legs. he offers a weak smile, and slips out to where shun is waiting patiently, her back turned.

-

shun makes tea the way she handles all her boxes - straightforward and loud. jun watches her, broad sweeping motions and boxy gestures shuffling around the kitchen.

"tea?" she says.

jun nods, and then, adds, "yeah."

shun turns to him briefly. "hot water's in the kettle."

it hits him that shun only ever wears pants and solid colours; instead of the flowery whiff that cloaks his mother, she smells like the store. wheat, dust, powdery and simple.

jun reaches out for the kettle, grunting at the strain in his arms. he carries it to her side, tipping it gently, carefully. the spout, trembling with effort, lowers itself obediently to meet the rim of the cup.

"you're so scrawny," she notes.

his arm hitches, affronted, and the water narrowly misses the cup. she huffs, amused.

"do you think he's going to be alright?" he asks, placing the kettle down.

shun bobs the teabag in her cup, head nodding along. the heel of her feet are exposed, grey socks folded outwards under her sole. she taps her toe against the floor, dragging it up against the ankle of her other leg.

it's oddly satisfying and personal; he's never seen someone wear their socks so noncommittally. jun retreats, staring into his own reflection in the tea. steam floats up into his face, alternating between puffy heat and patchy chill.

already, a yawn is stretching its way up his jaw, pulling his lips open. he stifles it unsuccessfully, forcing his mouth shut, tucking his chin back down.

shun watches him, a soft look on her face. "those bastards."

"they were trying to kill him," jun says, cupping his mug with both hands.

"you can't kill the sea," she scoffs.

jun thinks back to the day at the store. "but you can kill a mermaid."

shun narrows her eyes, hurrumphs, and takes a long sip from her cup. she turns around, resting her back against the counter. her nose twitches.

she places her cup back down.

"how old are you, jun?"

jun lowers his gaze to her feet - ankles hooked together. he readies himself for the oncoming gasp. "ten."

shun hums, then retrieves her cup with an awkward twist of her torso. "don't forget what you saw earlier."

he stares at her.

shun looks off into the distance, an undecipherable shade drawn over her face. she takes another sip, considering.

the corners of her chapped lips lift. "but don't forget what you did either."

-

it's some time in the evening when jun wakes up, static crawling up in his arm. he wriggles his fingers free, wincing at the strange prickly feeling. a snore draws his attention to shun. she's curled up in an upright position, head tilted awkwardly against her forearm.

minghao's caved in on himself, hands fidgeting with something. he looks up when jun jumps.

"minghao!" he flubs, then scratches his neck. "mingyu is-"

"he's better." the boy flushes. "thank you."

jun sits back down. shun snorts, and shuffles to the side in her sleep. the two of them share a look, before breaking out in muffled giggles.

"what are you doing now?"

minghao pushes his crane towards the table. "folding cranes."

it's slightly soggy and deformed. jun lights up, leaning over.

"you remembered," he breathes.

minghao nods. "yeah, i did."

"are you going back? to the sea?"

at this, minghao sighs. "well, that idiot came up to land, someone has to bring him back."

he's miffed, but the twinkle in his eye speaks volumes.

"i think i'm ready," minghao continues quietly. "i'll need your help, jun."

his shoulders are quaking, small and bony; but there's a note of determination in his words, an undercurrent of trust so clear and undeniable. this is a boy before him, but for the briefest moment, jun feels a draft running down his back - the floor opens into a vast, blue calm.

"yes," jun says. minghao meets his gaze.

"hao! hao!" mingyu cries from the bathroom.

minghao rolls his eyes, but goes over anyway. jun trots after him, rolling his ankles.

within a few hours, the sickly mermaid he'd dragged to minghao's cottage has regained his strength and chatty personality. his tail is sloshing around lazily, spilling water all over the floor.

"what is it."

"hao!" his tail shakes excitably. "i'm hungry - wait, who's that?"

"i'm jun," jun says.

mingyu shrinks into the water at minghao's glare. "what, i'm hungry."

minghao shakes his head. "you're always hungry."

jun ends up digging around in his pockets. he finds a squashed chocolate candy.

mingyu visibly glows at the sight. "what's that?"

"chocolate," jun says. "it's sweet."

mingyu reaches out for it, almost chewing through the wrapper. his face falls at the bland, cutting taste of foil. jun corrects him.

"ah!" he says, biting down on a hard crust. "hao, you need to try this!"

minghao takes it, sceptical. he sinks his teeth into the halved spherical sweet. he peels the foil away from his brown lips.

"it's sweet!" he exclaims, staring down at the wrapper in surprise.

mingyu turns to jun. "do you have more of that?"

-

shun, as it turns out, is a terribly deep sleeper. jun had poked her face and nudged her side to no avail. in the end, under the combined force of mingyu and minghao's pleading puppy-eyed looks, he'd started to make his way to grandpa's house in search of more chocolate.

the afternoon air is stale and hot like the first day. jun picks at his shirt, and makes a mental note to change out of it - quickly. he presses on, barefoot flinching at the prickly leaf litter beneath him.

just past the kissing gate is the cottage. it's quiet, and when he trots nearer, the entire house seems to be engulfed in a strange silence. almost abandoned. jun rushes up, climbing up the porch with a single lunge.

"yeye?" he asks, timidly pushing the kitchen door open.

there's no reply. jun tries again, and suddenly his mother's rushing out from the living room, cupping his face and twisting him around.

"where were you," she says, voice hoarse and cracked. "where did you go? wen junhui, did you know how worried we were? you almost killed me - we heard the workers talk about a boy and a monster, and that storeman-"

her grip is almost bruising. jun jerks, tries to pull his arm away; this isn't his mother. his mother doesn't have reddened eyes or unkempt hair like that. his mother is mostly a picture of flowers and lace and detached chiding.

"mom-" he tries. "what-"

she swings, shoulder yanked by some invisible force. the next thing he knows, his cheek is hot and hurts - head snapped into a low bow, recoiling from the impact. everything vanishes, numbed into a fuzzy, soundless picture. like a vacuum.

when the rest of the world comes trickling back into comprehension, he doesn't register where that keeling, broken noise is coming from. the rakish outline of his mother's shoulder and black, messy head is wrecked with sobs.

it's hard to breathe. jun chokes, exhaling shakily, and barely catches the tail end of her rambling.

"- he's in the hospital, your grandpa," she hiccups. "collapsed, we heard about the workers, thought you were dead-"

-

yeye looks terrible on the bed. he's grey and ashen and unmoving and jun doesn't know what to do with his hands or where he should stand because all the adults are sitting on all the chairs by the bed without talking or even whispering. a nurse comes to adjust the beeping machine and the tubes connected to the plastic mask on yeye's face and though she's smiling, there's a faint crease on her forehead and no one smiles back anyway. his father isn't even looking his way, hasn't looked his way once since mother dragged him in with a cold hand on his wrist, not in his hand, but that's his fault.

jun stares at the tiny board above yeye 's head, where the white overhead light is. it's yeye's name. he's never heard of yeye's real name.

they drive back to yeye's cottage. on the way back, he doesn't speak; nobody speaks. when he glances out the window, he can see shun's store. the windows are broken, and there's a crack in the door, but it passes by in a whirl and suddenly he's back on the porch.

he hasn't had dinner yet, doesn't feel like he deserves it anyway. maybe he's a bit sick, feels this strange, taut bitterness in his stomach and against his throat.

"jun?" minghao calls out to him from the entrance of the clearing. he wheels himself forward, closer. "i was waiting, but you didn't-"

"go away," jun says. the sting of nails against his thighs barely hurts.

"jun?" minghao says again, worried.

"go away," jun says, tongue thick - were they eating chocolate then, when they dialled for the ambulance? or was it before, when shun was making tea?

minghao pauses. "we're going to-"

"i don't care!" jun says, gritting his teeth. "you- get away

from me!"

"what's wrong?" minghao says, and he has the audacity to sound like he's hurt. jun thinks back to every smile or grin and squashes it down into fuel for his rage.

"yeye's in the hospital. it's all your fault." it's not him. it's not him, but it is, and he hates himself for that. "it's all your fault! because if i wasn't with you then nothing would have happened!

"and now mom and dad aren't speaking to me - everyone hates me now, and it's all because of you! i wish i never met you, i wish you never came to this town!"

it's not him. "i hate you!"

he's not even looking at minghao when he says that. he doesn't even mean it, not really. but there are no take backs, not with the way minghao's just taking it all silently. jun clamps his eyes shut, forces himself to swallow big, fat ugly tears down, crescent nails digging deeper.

a loud clanging noise has him searching the darkness for a sign, but minghao's already gone.

-

yeye doesn't wake up. his parents don't talk to him. the nurse still smiles kindly at him, and offers him tiny chocolate balls wrapped in crisp foil.

his father goes back to the cottage to pack up some things. he doesn't really say why, but jun knows it's because of what the doctor said earlier.

mother takes his father's place at the side of the room, leaving him to sit right by

yeye's peaceful face. jun doesn't want to cry, but the telltale signs of a trembling lip and watery sniffs overwhelm him. he starts to fold cranes, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

still his mother says nothing. she leaves the room.

the dam breaks.

"i'm sorry," jun says, heaving. "i'm sorry, yeye, i'm sorry. he was in trouble and i thought - i went to try and, but now people know, and when i came back everyone was gone, but i didn't know, and i ended up shouting at him and i don't mean it, i'm sorry - i'm sorry, yeye, please wake up. i'm sorry."

he presses his fists into his eyes, gulping down the small, incessant whines that escape him.

"jun?" it's so soft, the gasp. he barely makes out his name.

"yeye?"

yeye's fingers curl, twitching with effort. his eyes are bleary, barely slits. he breathes, slow and weak.

"yeye, you're-!"

jun clutches onto his hand, jumping out of his chair. it falls with a clatter.

yeye tries to say something, but it's muffled. jun fumbles, smearing snot on his sleeve, before running out of the room. he stumbles to the nearest nurse and drags her to the room.

she makes him wait outside when the doctor comes, and speaks to his mother in a hushed voice. the nurse ruffles his hair, but his mother doesn't look at him. jun knows she's still upset; he bites back to swelling ache in his chest, presses his nose to the window of the door instead.

his father returns from the cottage soon after. the doctor lets them in, smiling in that clean, professional manner that doctors have. he's got a clipboard, and refers to it occasionally with a nod.

but more importantly, it sounds like yeye's going to be fine.

yeye raises a hand, feeble and low, and brushes jun's bangs out of his face. jun steadies him, closing a palm around his wrist. the skin's sagging, and for the first time, yeye looks tired. old.

"your parents were very worried," yeye sighs.

jun lowers his eyes.

the door swings open, rattling off its hinges. jun whirls around, as his parents do. shun, panting, a helmet under her arm, looks roughed up. she glares at jun.

"minghao's in trouble," she says, and then, "hello mr. wen."

father is the first to respond. "who are you? what do you think you're-"

"jun," shun cuts in fiercely, moving around him. "minghao didn't go back when i brought mingyu back."

"what the hell are you talking about-"

"they trashed my store; they're going to get minghao too, unless you come," shun says, louder.

"you're that storeman," his mother says. "don't you dare come near my son."

jun runs up to them, squeezing between his parents to get to shun. "what do you mean-?"

"wen junhui!" his mother shouts, tugging him back. "and you, get the hell away from my son."

shun stands her ground, calm and even despite her frenzied entrance. "your son has saved a boy. if we don't hurry, another one might-"

"he's just a child," mother says, grip strong to the point of bruising. jun stares at her, and finally understands.

she's scared.

"enough!" yeye's voice booms. 

he drags himself up, painfully, into a sitting position. "jun, what are you going to do now?"

his father's gaping. his mother's hold loosens. jun looks into yeye's severe face, and knows. he steps away from them to shun's side, and bows.

"dad, mom," he begins, loud and determined, "i'm sorry i caused you to worry because i didn't tell anyone where i'm going. but now i need to go help minghao. because he's my friend, and because- i haven't told him i'm sorry."

shun bows next to him. "please!"

the air is terse. jun's hands are sweating even as he clenches them. he doesn't dare look up, shutting his eyes and hearing the hopeful pound of his pulse behind his ears.

"alright," his father says.

jun glances up to the touch of his mother's fingers against his cheek. she's kneeling down, looking straight at him. like it's the first time she's really seeing him. her gaze trails over his face, and he wonders if she's seeing her nose on his face, or the bright almond of her eyes reflected in his face.

"thank you," she says, "now, go."

he straightens up. "i'll come back."

and runs off after shun.

-

it's hard to talk with the wind in his face, but shun does; she's yelling against the sound of traffic, telling him how that day when he left for the hospital, she'd dragged mingyu to the sea in spite of patrolling workers, and that minghao had obstinately refused to go back. he'd looked sad, and there was nothing shun could say to persuade him.

shun stops at the pebbled walkway before yeye's cottage. she leans her motorcycle against the fence, and yanks her helmet off, sprinting round the house towards the clearing. jun follows, tripping over himself as he follows her towards the forest.

shun backtracks, picks him up by the elbow. "come on!"

but it's hard to see. jun glances down, hand rummaging at the grass for what he tripped over. it's a rod, or at least, he thinks it is, until the uneven bumps of a mickey mouse-esque lid catches him by surprise. froggy.

his friend.

jun swallows, pushes his shaky legs to work. there are scales - iridescent little layers scattered on the forest floor. the deeper they enter the forest, the more they find. the trail leads them past minghao's cottage and down towards the kissing gate.

"he's at the beach," jun whispers.

shun shakes her head. "they're already beginning construction."

"maybe he's already back in the sea?" he hopes, futile.

even before the forest ends, he can smell the thick pungent smoke from the beach. there are lights and lamps everywhere, a messy spray of colours of jagged machinery jutting out against the landscape.

shun holds him back behind a trunk. she's scanning the place, squinting - jun follows her example, cataloguing the number of workers and boxes around them. there's a makeshift office to their far right, followed by a series of tents and containers arranged randomly to the left.

"look, is that his wheelchair?" shun mutters, pointing towards the container by the office.

jun squints. it might be. "let's get closer."

they crouch, running as fast as they can. shun pulls him close and they squat behind a container. one of the workers bumbles by, whistling. jun peers out from behind the box.

"it's his wheelchair," he says. "what did they do to him?"

shun presses her lips together. "i don't know."

"do you think they killed-"

"no," shun says. she shudders. "he's probably just captured."

she checks the coast, and tucks him close to her as they sneak towards the wheelchair.

something else is glinting in the black shroud of the ground. jun feels for it, and finds himself a folded piece of foil. it's a crane.

"look, the ground's shining," shun points out, pushing jun's head down when another group of workers pass by.

"his scales," jun gasps. "he's shedding so much-"

"it leads there," shun says. "that container behind the office."

jun tugs at her shirt. "shun, why's he shedding so much? is it because of his wish?"

shun glances down at him. "i don't know. but he won't be able to go back if he loses his tail."

jun shakes his head. "he needs to."

shun is quiet, and then she's tugging him to the container. there's a dark puddle of scales in front of it. she begins to examine its doors, picking up the padlock on its handle.

"how are we gonna get in?" jun asks. he knocks gently on the container. "minghao?"

"there's gotta be a key," shun muses, trying to widen the crack between the doors.

jun presses an eye to the slit. "minghao?"

"jun?"

"minghao!" jun whispers. "minghao, are you okay?"

"do you know how to open the doors?" shun interjects.

"no," minghao says. "they brought me here, and closed the doors."

shun frowns, moving to scrutinise the chains.

"get the wheelchair," she says. "and pass me that bottle."

jun obeys, holding his breath and sticking to the shadows. when he gets to the wheelchair, a loud, shattering clang rings throughout the beach.

there's an uproar from the workers. some of them are rushing over, flashlights and rods in hand. jun runs back, pushing the wheelchair through uneven, noisy sand. shun's dragging the doors of the container open, and then pulling minghao out.

his tail's almost bare, reduced to a raw, reddened skin.

"get him to the sea!" shun yells, thrusting minghao onto the wheelchair.

jun nods, and ducks out of the way as shun tackles the men out of their way.

it's unnerving, how much the terrain has changed to resemble one of a disaster - vehicles and cranes and boards sprouting out of the ground, metallic and sharp in contrast with the soft sway of trees. the entire sky too, has shrunk, partially visible now.

jun wills his tired legs to push on, hyperaware of the footfalls increasing behind him. someone rushes out towards them from the side. he swerves, apologising to minghao.

the sea's so close now - jun holds his breath, shoving against every burning instinct in his lungs, and hastens.

it's shallow. it's too shallow. jun doesn't look back, doesn't allow himself to panic. the water is cold around his ankles, but it's still so shallow

and then it's not.

jun falls in, hands still wrapped tightly around minghao's wheelchair. it's so cold, so sharply cold, and he makes the mistake of inhaling; it burns, rushing to flood up his nose and into his head.

he flails, but it's like someone's punched him in the head, wrecked his nose and set his throat on fire. he can't see clearly either - everything's doused in the same inky blackness, and he can't tell where 'up' is.

the crane in his grasp floats away, silver and haunting.

"minghao!" he tries to call.

the crane disappears into a tiny dot.

"minghao!" he screams, but it comes out as a mouthful of bubbles.

he reaches out for the crane, wading through the currents. it twinkles, blinking in and out of sight, before expanding. a torrent of orange light flushes over him. it runs shyly over his outstretched hand, and then breezes past him in a tight, warm embrace.

you saved me! minghao's voice pipes up all around him.

jun gasps, looking down to find his clothes dry and weightless. he doesn't have to strain against the drag.

"minghao!" he says. "are you okay?"

the light dims a little. yeah.

"i'm sorry, minghao!" jun shouts quickly. "i don't hate you! you're my friend!"

the light thrills a bright orange.really?

jun nods. "yes!"

how's yeye?

"he's fine now! i'm sorry for before!"

minghao - the light - pulses, beaming and sending sparks flying all around. a blob of green wafts in.

hey! it's mingyu.

oi!

mingyu fizzles out a little at the hostility, but twitches back with excitement.

you're here, hao!

"mingyu!" jun says to the light.

it drifts over to rest in his hands.

jun! thank you!

thank you! comes a chorus of different lights. thank you!

it's a fireworks show now, lights flashing happily like a kaleidoscope. jun smiles, watching the lights buzz, wheezing around in joy. the shade of orange, minghao's orange, reddens when they edge away to leave the two of them alone.

you saved me, minghao repeats.

he sounds a little sad. jun wishes he could hold his hands.

"it's no problem," jun says.

i have to go, minghao says. i'll miss you.

"i'll miss you too," jun says.

promise i'll come back! minghao supplies quickly. even if it's not here, as long as you're by the sea, i'll be there!

jun nods furiously. "i won't forget you!"

minghao's quiet, fading to a lighter shade. i'm not scared anymore.

he shrinks into a warm orb, nuzzling into jun's palms. thank you. for everything. jun.

minghao begins to fade away, floating off to join the rest of the lights. the waves tug him away, cradling his body towards the shallow shores.

jun's head breaks through the surface of the water. he scrambles to the sand, rising to find himself still dry. the sea calms down, darkens once more into an opaque navy. shun untangles herself from a worker's collar and runs to jun.

behind them, the world stares, awed by the stunning array of lights.

-

the radio dabbles between static and sultry pop, chattering unobtrusively in the background of light whispers and small talk. jun gives yeye a final hug, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. yeye returns it, firm and strong.

"come back next summer," he says.

jun nods. "i will." 

yeye's eyes twinkle brightly. "off you go."

jun pushes the door open, shivering at the draft breezing past his legs. he balances froggy in the crook of his arm, leaning his weight against the wooden door and walking down the pebbled path. a tiny red puff perches on the fountain, chirping easily.

he skips to the car, dusting shrivelled leaves off the mailbox.

dad and mom are talking by the hood of the car, smiling awkwardly, abashedly. jun lets them be, tugging the car door open. it's toastier inside, leather heated up and cosy to the touch. he's got a tin of biscuits from shun earlier, now sitting in his lap.

leaning forward, because everyone's still gathered outside, he stands up and turns the car radio on. it filters to the careless drone of pertinent world news and traffic updates. jun sits back down and listens to the new words.

the car jostles as his parents get in.

"where to," dad says, adjusting the rearview mirror.

mom shakes her head, smiling in exasperation. "let's go home, shall we?"

jun nods. he watches the cottage, its clearing, and the fountain dwindle into a nebulous dream. the driveway tapers, before opening to a bright, unhindered road.

[killianmesmalls]

A Tether to the World, Ch. 2

I have never been so lost in a pairing as I have been the last two days with KnightRook. I was supposed to be editing something else. Send help. Or don’t. Please don’t. 

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: Very mild, brief mention of past child abuse.

Synopsis: Alice is restless and Hook is at a loss. How can he give his daughter an adventure when she’s trapped?

Gods above, she was antsy. He couldn’t blame her. Spending weeks, even months at a time at sea had shown him his fair share of cabin fever. However, the Jolly Roger was a fair bit larger than this tower; even as a cabin boy he had more room to move around than his poor, darling six-year-old daughter did.

So, he couldn’t really blame her for her fidgety, irritable behavior. Usually he was able to curtail it with a game of some sort or an hour or so of pretend that would leave their living space in ruins. But, she was getting bigger, more aware that Papa could leave but Alice had to sit at home by her lonesome, likely with some chore or homeschooling assignment he had given her. She was bored and lonely, simple as that.

Even if he had caved to giving her a rabbit… and would likely cave again whatever other pet her heart desired because heaven help his conscience if he said no. Today even the white lop couldn’t distract his Alice, who kicked at her makeshift school desk in frustration.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” she snapped.

The captain in him struggled to demand order and obedience, but the father in him crumbled at what he knew was an unavoidable bout of well-deserved frustration. The sun was out in the first warm day of spring, sending the scents of dewy grass and lavender all the way up through their tower window. He had hoped having her draw star maps of various worlds would both educate and entertain her, but anything short of tearing down the damn tower was sending her spinning toward a tantrum.

“Alice,” he said, an edge of authority in his tone before it softened, “I understand that you’re—”

“No you don’t!” yelled Alice. “You get to do whatever you please! You don’t understand at all!”

“Alice Jones,” he started, his captain’s voice inching in enough to give her pause. They both knew it was nothing more than a sign he, too, was nearing his last nerve. After the way he was raised, after what he had endured and the scars he had suffered as a child sold into servitude, there were certain lines he would never cross. Not with his Alice. At worst his captain tone with his bright child meant an evening without sweets or only one bedtime story. Luckily it rarely came to that—the thought of her father ever being disappointed in her sent a sharp pain through Alice’s heart any time she entertained it.

Well, most times. This may have been heading toward a Jones family first. Before she could descend further into madness, Killian stepped toward her, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to ask you to do something, and I am going to ask for you to trust me.”

Her shoulders slumped a little in his hands and she craned her neck to look back at him. “Do what, Papa?”

“I want you to rest for a few hours. Try to sleep. I know you haven’t been sleeping well the last few days. If you can’t sleep, pick a book and read as much as you can, but I’d really like for you to do all you can to get a few moments of rest. I am going to get a few things and I’ll be back as soon as I can. If all goes well, and if you do this for me, then we’ll have quite an evening ahead of us. I promise you.”

He felt her tense for but a moment, preparing to argue, then the fight left as quick as it rose through her. She slumped the rest of the way and gave a short nod. “Yes, Papa.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, kissing her soft, blond curls again before grabbing his leather duster. “And please remember to clean up after Mary Ann. I don’t want to step on more rabbit leavings when I come home.”

She giggled mischievously, the sound sending his heart fluttering. “Yes, Papa.”

“Oh, and one more thing—where would you like to go?”

Alice’s eyebrows knit together. “Go?”

“Yes, love. Tell me a world and I will bring it to you.”

A wide, almost rabbit-like smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Can we go to Agrabah? Somewhere far away.”

Killian gave her a firm nod, his eyebrow rising as his own signature smirk flashed. “Agrabah it is. Now, off to rest. And don’t come back out until I call for you. I need to work some magic first.”

The climb down was always the hardest. Not simply because it was more difficult to get the grip he needed, but the thought of leaving his daughter always sent a boulder rolling in his stomach. The nearest village was nearly an hour’s walk away, and each step felt like it took him an eternity away from her. Thankfully, in the years since he had departed from his beloved Jolly Roger, his loyal first mate (Captain, now, he reminded himself) continued to send Hook what Smee felt was his rightful sum of gold after each adventure the crew went on without him. Though his heart ached for the spray of the ocean and the thrill of other worlds, the years had given Hook a deeper appreciation for the old rat’s steadfast friendship.

Killian had most recently been able to acquire a horse and pay for it to be kept in the nearby village stables. It was only fair for the beast to have more companionship than he could offer from the foot of their tower, and it was only fair to Alice to not have the neighing taunt her as another reminder of something she couldn’t see or touch.

The stables were only a fifteen-minute trek down a grassy path. He had been careful over the years to keep it from wearing too much, to prevent others from knowing about their hidden tower. He suspected the kind stable owner knew it somewhat, but she paid him no mind so long as he paid her in gold. From the stables, it was a fast gallop to get where he needed, and his mind ran with what he could possibly get to soothe his daughter’s fitful, adventurous soul. Exotic spices, expensive in a foreign realm but well worth it for his girl, were the first items that came to mind. After that, he was lost.

That is, until the third tent in the street market came into view. “Star Lamps and Fairy Lights” the sign advertised. Curiosity piqued, he stepped inside and marveled at an array of various-sized crystal balls, all colored a velvety blackish blue with small, clear speckles dotting each one. He approached one, taking in the label beneath it.

“Neverland,” it said. He raised the ball closer, immediately recognizing the speckles formed familiar shapes, ones he had memorized a thousand times over from his years trapped with the demon, Pan. His eyes scanned the other crystal pieces, catching miniaturized constellations he had navigated under for centuries.

“Would you like to see how it works?” a voice croaked behind him. Killian turned to see a withered man whose wild eyebrows adorned sparkling blue eyes. In his surprise, he simply nodded and watched as the man closed the tent cover, blocking all signs of the spring afternoon. The only light left was a small fire in a strange brass lantern. The elderly man shuffled toward the device, placing the ball labeled “Neverland” atop its setting. Instantly, the tent filled with a night sky Killain was so acquainted with it took his breath away.

Sure, the images were a little distorted around the corners of the tent, but gods it was as close as he could ever imagine getting without a magic bean. “It’s brilliant,” he breathed out. “How many realms do you have?”

“Dozens. Is there one in particular you’re looking for?”

“Agrabah, if you have it. I’ll take as many as I can carry, though.”

An exuberant fire lit in Killian’s heart as he made his way out of the market. His bag was heavier than he anticipated, now packed full of foreign foodstuffs, incense, four of some silly ‘calming’ water mechanism he hoped would do the trick, and as many starry crystals as he could fit with their accompanying lantern. Climbing back up that tower would be a magnificent challenge, but it would be well worth it.

It was when he spotted the small wagon wheel cast aside in the road that he knew it would be more than one climb, but he’d climb as much as he needed to bring his daughter a minute of happiness. A minute of pretend. A minute of freedom. His every muscle burned by the time he and all his loot had made it back inside their home, the tell-tale signs of sunset creating an orange glow over the quiet tower.

True to her word, Alice had kept to her room. Killian chanced a peek in on her and was relieved to see her spread like a starfish over her bed, covers half twisted and a book open at her side. Every minute he thought he couldn’t love her more was a minute he was proven wrong.

Pulling himself away from the sight, he got to work. Sheets and rope first, his years of tying masts doing him a wealth of good as he worked in as much quiet as he could manage. He thanked the gods Alice, when she could sleep, slept like the dead. Moving furniture along the hardwood floor wasn’t the most silent of tasks, but he caught her stir only once before she settled.

Next, he cleaned the wagon wheel and pierced a hole dead center of their wooden counter, fastening it to as close to a steering mechanism as he could manage with such limited tools. It wasn’t perfect, but he hoped his six-year-old would get the gist. From his mock-helm, he looked out over the living room area, now converted into a facsimile of the Jolly Roger. At least, as close to it as he could hope to make without real magic at his disposal. Pulling out the silly water toys that had been advertised for “tranquility” and to “reduce stress”—a lost idea to him since he acquired the constant worry of parenthood—he filled them with water and spaced them evenly around the fake ship, activating their mechanics so a mild sloshing sound could be heard around him. It was by no means the sea, but it could work in a pinch.

He moved to light the incense, the scent of sea-salt and seaweed lifting into the air after the initial burnt sulfur died away. Finally, he set himself up in the kitchen, going to work on the few recipes he could remember from his limited times in Agrabah. The mostly-desert world wasn’t one he had grown too accustomed to, but he would bloody well do everything he could to recreate the sense of its coastline now.

Go figure, it was the smell of food that stirred his Alice awake. He could imagine Liam teasing that she was just like him.

“Papa?” she called, her voice light and a little croaky from sleep. “Can I come out now?”

Rushing to set up the lantern, he placed Agrabah’s constellations across the ceiling of their tower, careful to adjust it so the stars were in their rightful places for the time of year. “You can come out, love,” he finally called back.

At the first sight of their living room area, Alice’s eyes widened, her gaze moving through every inch of what her father had created. He chose then to sweep over to her, letting food simmer over a low flame. “Would you like to step aboard, m’lady?”

“W-where are we?” she asked.

“Why, the Jolly Roger, of course.”

She moved with him in a daze toward the “helm” of the ship, senses assaulted with the smells of a mixture of sea air, cooking dishes from the bazaar, the sound of waves lopping around them, and the night sky glittering above.

“Oh, Papa…” she started, her eyes welling with more emotions than she could grasp. “It’s so… I…”

He knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle in a tight hug from behind, his scruffy cheek resting against hers. “Darling, I can’t imagine how you must feel each day being trapped in here. But I swear on my life, I will do whatever it takes to break this curse. And, until I do, I will do everything in my power to bring the realms to you.”

He held her for a long stretch, the pair letting the mimicked world around them work its magic, letting little Alice forget just a little that she was a prisoner. For now, even just a little while, she was a free sailor in a new world with her papa, the best captain in all the realms, at her side.

As if reading her mind, he guided her hands to the wagon wheel. “Now, would you like to show me what you know already? Let’s test out that sea in your blood, eh?”

She looked up, chewing her lips as she tried to get her bearings with the constellations dancing above her head. She named a few she recognized from the maps he had given her to study, and together they sailed this new world. His hands rested on her sides, mimicking the rocking of the ship to help give her, her sea legs for when they did finally leave this wretched tower.

If she closed her eyes for long enough, if she let him work what magic he had, she could almost feel like they were there.

[littledraga]

Figures in Love Advent calendar day 4

@memegitek day 4 of promnisac2017 Decorating!

Gentle blue eyes stared intently at the figures in front of him. A tiny village was strewn about on the counter, white fluff laid out beneath them. Houses and shops stood in the back, still in their boxes, but the people and trees were laying about haphazardly as Prompto tried to decide how he wanted the village to look. He toyed with the trees and benches, trying to make a park first. Once he was happy with his little park he looked at the rest and frowned.

"I need more trees." Huffing, he dug through a box hoping he had forgotten some, Ignis voice reminded him.

"Prompto, you bought every box on the shelf, I think you'll have to make due." Crossing his arms, Prompto glared down at the trees, trying to will more into existence. When that failed he went through to see how many he could do without. Whining he sunk to his knees settling at eye level with his unmade village. Fluffy garland drapped around his shoulders as Ignis stood behind him, looking over at his work.

"Love, why don't you try setting up the buildings first? Build it like you would a real village and maybe inspiration will find you." Leaning down to press a kiss into Prompto's hair he was off again, there was still the rest of the house to prepare after all.

Sighing to himself, Prompto took his boyfriend's advice, clearing away the small pieces to start with the houses and shops. A candy shop next to the baker, of course, he thought. The houses were in the middle, so nothing was far away, he thought that was important. The firehouse was by the toy shop. Looking at his buildings, Prompto gave a satisfied nod. It was a good village, but what was a village without people. They were next, some held hands, walking through a perfect wonderland, some ran through the snow. A child pulled a sled, carrying what must be her favorite bear to stare into the toy shop. Another was making a snowman in front of the station. When one refused to stand he groaned and pressed it into the fake snow.

"Fine, you lay there and make snow angels." Behind him Ignis chuckled to himself, tying a bow to the banister. Next, there were the trees, some needed to go to the village, and as much as he already missed his little park, he had to admit the village looked much homier with them there. It was a worthy sacrifice.

With the leftover benches and trees, Prompto built his park. Placing them around each other, his brows raised and a grin spread, lighting up his face. Moving everything, he called to his boyfriend.

"Iggy! Iggy, look. If I," he moved the last tree into place, "move them like this, I have room for that ice rink I saw at the mall." Turning to face Ignis before he had even made his way over, Prompto looked up at Ignis through his lashes. It was a look he knew Ignis found how to resist.

Looking over Prompto's shoulder, Ignis let out a sigh. He could never understand his boyfriend's obsession with making small villages, but if it made him happy, it was hard to say no. Nodding his head, he had to catch the small blond as he launched himself into his arms, giggling.

At the mall Prompto was dragging Ignis, nearly running through the common ways to the little shop at the back of the building.

"Come on! We gotta hurry, Iggy!" Trying not to laugh at his boyfriend, Ignis pulled Prompto to him, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Relax, Prompto. I'm sure it will still be there by the time we get there, no need to rush." Prompto blushed at the affection, he wasn't sure he would ever get used to public displays of affection, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy them. With a nod, he turned and slowed his pace to something almost reasonable.

Prompto gave a small sound of happiness as he stepped foot into the store. The front was a full display of villages and other figurines. Tables and shelves lined the walls and filled the room, leaving little more than a walkway to the back half of the store where the merchandise was held.

As Prompto fluttered about the displays, Ignis thought to remind him they had a goal in mind, but the way the colours danced across and lit up his face kept him to enraptured to find the words.

Eventually, the blond managed to find the skating rink he had wanted last time, but Ignis had held firm that it was much too large for the space he was using. It was nearly as large as a serving dish, a frozen pond that sung a quiet tune. Skaters glided along the frozen water with ease, as small lamps lit their way. On a bench sat an old man who looked to tell stories to anyone who would listen. It truly was a beautiful piece.

Watching the skaters Prompto gave a content sigh, eyes drifting to the skaters to the figures that hung around it. Nearly every figure was a couple in love, holding hands or sharing chaste kisses, the blond nearly swooned at the sight. At least until he realized something was missing.

“They’re all straight, Iggy.” The smile he had on from the second he walked through the door had fallen as he pouted at the small figures. Mostly people didn’t have much to say about someone not being straight so he forgot it wasn't something others saw has normal, or even just frequent enough to be in a tiny fake village. Feeling Ignis pressing into his back, looking over his shoulder, he leaned back, just a fraction.

“Hm, it’s a large shop, maybe we have simply missed them?” Ignis thought aloud, though he hardly believed the words himself. Gently guiding Prompto along to the back, they found the set they were looking for and much of his earlier enthusiasm returned. Talking with the cashier, who seemed nearly as interested in the rink as Prompto, they didn’t notice as Ignis looked around the store. Until two sets of eyes fell upon him.

As Ignis turned, he saw two sets of puppy dog eyes turned toward him. In an instant, he knew he was doomed. Leaving the store, he carried a box to make a shelf, and Prompto was nearly hidden behind his boxes of figures and houses. Ignis swears he will not be putting up the shelf, he still has the rest of the house to complete, Prompto can handle a shelf.

A week later Ignis has finally fixed the shelf that Prompto had tried to make, discovering many of the pieces never made it home with them. It took Prompto another three to get the placements the way he could live with, though Ignis would swear for the rest of the season figures were moving throughout the day.

Once it was finished Prompto stood back to admire his work. Each shelf was it’s own tiny village, though none of them were the same. Listening to his ice rink, Prompto hummed along as he looked over his villages, frowning slightly at the happy couples. They were lovely in their own right, but it just felt off. He had tried to set single figures together to look like the others. Two women walking together, or two men next to each other on the bench. They didn’t look convincing in his mind.

Warm arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him back to lean fully into Ignis’ chest and he let out a small laugh. As he made to wrap his hands around Ignis’ own, he saw a small box. Tilting his head up, and kissing his boyfriend’s chin he murmured, “What’s in the box?”

“You could always open it up and see.” Kissing Prompto’s forehead, he pressed the box into his hands. Carefully opening the box, he nearly dropped it once he saw what was inside. Taking the figure out as gently as he could, he turned it slowly in his hands. Two young men, walking hand in hand. The blond leaning against a brown hair bespectacled man.

Turning, Prompto wrapped his arms as tight as he could around Ignis, sniffling slightly. As he tried not to cry, Ignis gently carded his hand through Prompto’s hair.

“When you noticed there were no couples like us I went on a search for one. Unfortunately, I was left wanting. So I decided to order a creation just for us.” Pressing a kiss into soft hair, Ignis let himself rest there.

“It’s perfect, Ignis. Thank you.” Once Ignis was able to extract himself from Prompto, he gently urged him to place his newest figure. It sat on the counter, not in the village, but in the park by the rink. Hand in hand the two lovers watched as people danced across the ice. Maybe next year they would join in the fun.