#i really wanted to buy another mourning piece to put my fathers hair in

[bespectacledbookworm]

I still can't believe that the rawest line about grief ( that I personally and intensely align with) came from Disney's Marvel's WandaVision, from a robot to a witch.

[browniefox]

Color Theory

@wrightfamilyweek Day 2 - Investigation/Hijinks

In which an anniversary is coming up, so Trucy makes some plans.

You can also find this on AO3 right here :)

“Have fun at work, Daddy!”

Trucy runs up to Daddy and hugs him around the stomach. He kisses the top of his head.

“Mmhm, I expect your homework to be done and you to be in bed by the time I get home, alright? No exceptions!"

“Of course!”

“And no trips to Germany, alright? I’m sure you can hold off for another few months.” Daddy teases. Trucy sticks his tongue out at him and he ruffles her hair before going out the door. In a few months, she is going to actually get to go with Daddy on one of his trips to see Miles, a reconnection between the two of them since Trucy's own little trip a year ago.

As the door closes, Trucy runs over to the window and waits until she sees Daddy riding down the street on his bike, officially out of the building. Her homework is already done, most of it finished during class time and the rest of it finished up during recess and on her way home from school. Walking while writing had made her numbers come out a little odd, but it didn’t matter, because now she had hours and hours of time to work.

She stops by the fridge, staring up at the calendar. It’s four weeks away from the date circled in red, and two weeks from the date that sits ominously empty. It’s plenty of time, though.

Trucy makes a lap around the office, double-checking that the windows are locked just like Daddy does every time before leaving. Everything seems safe and sound, so she grabs her backpack and leaves, making sure she has the spare key and locking the door behind her. Daddy won’t be home until late, but she’s still going to make care to be home with plenty of time to spare. The meer idea of putting him through the same fear of last year sits in her chest like a promise.

It’s a few bus-stops to get to Gummy and Maggey’s house. They’re both out at the moment, so Trucy finds the spare key in the fake rock and lets herself in. She’s spent a lot of time over here by now, and the couple has spent alot of time over at the office, the big and towering man she’d met at the airport transforming into a familiar and lovable family friend.

She skips over to the closet, pulling out the supplies stuck in there. Streamers and confetti, magic wands and fake flowers, tumbling out from where Gummy had helped her shove them in last time. She looks down at the supplies and begins organizing it into the different acts that they’re associated with. There’s a lot of pieces, a lot to get over to the Wonder Bar eventually. Keeping so much of it over here makes it harder to practice back at home, but that’s kind of the point, even if it’s really annoying.

Gummy and Maggie came home after an hour, setting their things down and chatting about their day while Gummy starts dinner. The smell fills the house, warm and comforting. Trucy likes the Gumshoe house. It’s not too big, but not too small either. Gummy and Maggey used to clean it up before she came over, but they’ve stopped making that special little change for her, and so she gets to see it all lived in, a sock strewn here, a few dishes left out, pillows lying wherever they were last placed. Small things that make the place not a house but a home. She’s never had a home like this one, and oh there are sometimes where she’ll be lying on the couch and imagine what it would be like to stay here.

She knows she could.

Daddy has made it clear that if she ever felt dissatisfied with the cramped office, with him, all she has to do was say something. Gummy and Maggey have mentioned, before, that they’d be willing to take her in if anything ever happened to Daddy. Gummy had laughed about all the sorts of injuries Daddy tended to accrue, recounting a story about Daddy getting amnesia before a case - Trucy knew that one, she’d read it a bit ago.

Trucy doesn’t want to leave the cramped little office.

After dinner, Trucy uses Gummy’s phone. Gummy and Maggey know how to set up her stuff for a performance by now - they’ve already agreed to be her stage crew for the performance. While they’re doing that, Trucy calls up Aunty Maya.

“How’s my favorite magician doing?” Maya answers, and Trucy can hear the smile in her voice.

“Working on her next trick.” Trucy replies. Maya makes a humming sound.

“Well, things are going well on our end over here. Are you sure about the color? You don’t want to go darker?” Maya asked.

“Nope! It’s, well, there’s a reason for the shade.” Trucy says. She can hear Maya hum in understanding over the receiver.

“Well, I’m almost finished with it, although I’ll probably come up soon just to make sure everything is right. Pearly says hi, by the way.”

“Oh! Is she there?! Is she there?! Hi Pearls!” Trucy shouts over the phone and gets a distant and soft ‘hi Trucy!’.

“When I come down I’ll bring Pearly with me, don’t worry. If I didn’t,she might just run the whole way over there anyway!” Maya laughs and Trucy laughs along.

“If everything’s working out, then I’m gonna have to go. I need to make sure the rest of the show is ready to go!” Trucy says.

“Alright, alright, just say you’re afraid I’m going to start prattling on about the new season of Rubber Samurai. But you know there-”

“Love you Aunty Maya bye!” Trucy hits the end call button still chuckling to herself. She hopes that Aunty Maya makes true on her promise to come back down and to bring Pearls before the big day, but if she doesn’t then Trucy guesses she can wait that long, even if it’ll be agonizing.

She stares at the next number for a long long while before finally hitting the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.

“Gumshoe, this had better be fucking import-”

“Hi, Miles!” Trucy chirps. There’s silence on the other end.

“... who is this?” Miles grumbles.

“Trucy Wright!”

“Trucy?!” Miles sounds a little more awake now.

“Yup!”

“Ms. Trucy… why are you calling me at… three in the morning?” Miles groans.

“Th… three in the… OH!” Trucy gasps, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to take into account time differences. “Oh my god, Miles, I’m so sorry, it’s pretty late here and-”

“It’s, it’s fine Ms. Trucy. Just tell me what you were calling about… from Gumshoe’s phone? Is your father alright?” Worry creeps into Miles voice.

“Oh, yes, Daddy’s fine! Daddy’s just at work right now, and I went over to Gummy and Maggey’s! We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and then we’re gonna play a card game, and then Gummy is gonna drive me back to the office ‘cause it’s all dark now!” Trucy says.

“Ms. Trucy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but again, it is three a.m. here…” Miles sighs.

“Right! Right, um… Mr. Edgeworth, do you think you could help me with a little something.”

“I’m going to need a bit more information than that.”

Trucy rattles off her little plan into the phone. Miles stays silent for the entire explanation, only grunting here and there to assure her that he is still awake and listening on the other end.

“... this is very short notice.” Miles says.

“Oh,” Says Trucy, looking down at her feet, “Well, that’s okay, I’m sure together, the rest of us-”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, just that next time you’re planning something like This, please, tell me about it a little more ahead of time.”

“Okay! Yeah! Next time! And this time… you can do it?” She double checks.

“Yes, you can count on me, Ms. Trucy.”

“Thank you! Um, I’ll let you get back to sleep, thank you!”

Trucy skips back into the kitchen, where Gummy and Maggey have set up a board game. She still has her show to practice a bit more, and even now thinking about it she’s a little nervous, but she’s found she’s more excited. It’s coming together.

oOo

“Please, Daddy, please, come and see my show tonight? Pleaseeeee?”

Phoenix lets out a long sigh. Trucy is bouncing around in excitement in front of him. She’s already done her stage makeup, and he’d helped her put little weaving braids into her hair. Most of it will be covered up by her hat, but there are usually moments during the performance where the hat comes off, and so she needs to look amazing no matter what’s going on. Phoenix is fine to help her with this, but on today of all days, all he wants to do is sit in his office, read through old case files, and mourn what he has lost.

He was disbarred two years ago. That both feels like too much and not enough time. For the most part, he likes to think that he’s been coping with it well. He’s been working, and raising Trucy, and he’s had some other little things in the works, but on today of all days, it’s so hard to focus and not feel the ache of what was taken from him, of what he’s lost, of those who have come to his door in the past couple years looking for help and having to be turned away.

“Trucy, baby,” Phoenix starts, trying to let her down easy, but Trucy stomps her foot.

“No, Daddy, please, just, just come? To the show? Please?” She begs.

She’s been 'off' all week, too quiet and then too talkative in bursts that serve to confuse Phoenix. Now, there’s something almost akin to fear in her eyes, and it tugs at Phoenix’s heartstrings.

“Alright, sweetie, let me just,” He looks down at himself, still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He’d meant to get dressed today, but even now he’s struggling to find the energy to get into something better, and eventually he just says lamely, “Put some shoes on.”

He gets a pair of beat-up sneakers on and walks outside with Trucy, who is still vibrating with energy. He considers for a moment that perhaps he should buy a new pair of shoes, but then he sees Trucy’s cape, starting to look thread-bare in places and sitting so much shorter on her than it did two years ago. It used to fall to cover her almost completely in a mysterious sort of way, but now you can see her entire hands. Trucy has told him before it’d be fine, her cape had been too long anyway, but maybe he should start to consider how to get her something new and nice. Things for himself could be put off as long as they needed to be.

The ride down to the Wonder Bar is quiet between them, Trucy sitting on his handlebars with careful balance. The first five times they did it, Phoenix had been worried about her falling off or something, but now it was routine if they had anywhere they both had to be and didn’t have the time to puzzle through bus schedules or the budget for a taxi.

Phoenix recognizes some of the people in the Wonder Bar, and Mr. Wunderbar himself comes over and greets.

“Ah, Ms. Wright, so glad to see you! Your assistants are already backstage.” Mr. Wunderbar says. Phoenix’s brow furrows.

“Assistants? You mean the your staff?” Phoenix asks.

“Alright thanks Mr. Wunderbar Daddy find a seat love you bye!” Trucy says in one breath and runs over to the stage.

“This way, Mr. Wright. Trucy asked that we have a table upfront reserved just for you.” Mr. Wunderbar leads the way to one of the tables close to the stage, which does indeed have a a ‘Reserved’ marker on it. Phoenix feels suddenly self conscious in his outfit. He’d been planning to sit in the back, where nobody could see him, and he feels like everybody in the bar, waiting for Trucy to perform, are staring at him.

Mr. Wunderbar took his order and then slipped away. Phoenix drumms his fingers on the table, a cowardice sweeping through him with such force that he almost gets up and walks away. Something odd is going on, and it's making him even more nervous.

“Oh good, Trucy was really worried you wouldn’t show up.”

Phoenix jumps at the familiar voice, and spins around to see Maya and Pearls.

“Wh- hey, what are you two doing here?!” Phoenix jumps up and hugs both of them, “And especially what’s Pearls doing in here?”

“Mr. Wunderbar says that so long as nobody at our table orders drinks, he’ll allow it this once.” Maya says, sitting down, and Pearls sits on the other side of Phoenix, sandwiching him between the Fey’s.

“But why are you two-”

“Now Nick, do you really think we’d let you spend today on your own to mope?” Maya sets her hands on her hips. Phoenix looks away. He doesn’t point out that they didn’t last year, because it’s not their responsibility to look after him. Maya has her own life she’s living. She had texted and called him, though, regularly, throughout the day, at random intervals. She threatened that if he didn’t pick up any of the times, she’d be coming over right way, “I’ll admit, though, clearly we came mostly to see Trucy perform. Right Pearls?”

“Yeah! She’s so amazing, Mr. Nick! And we also had to bring the-” Pearls starts to say, but Maya puts a finger to her lips and shushes Pearls, who’s mouth slams shut.

“... alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Phoenix asks more plainly.

“So she still hasn’t seen fit to tell you yet?”

And then, slipping into the fourth seat at the table, is Miles. Miles, in California, in the flesh, in the Wonderbar.

“M-Miles! What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter had a simple request, and I obliged.” Miles sniffs, “You look,” Miles regards Phoenix and Phoenix looks away, wishing he’d brought something to cover his head as well, “Alright, all things considered.” He ends.

“No need to sugar coat it, Miles.” Phoenix laughs bitterly.

“I’m not. You seem to forget you’re not the only one who has gone through some trying times.”

Before Phoenix can formulate anything to say to that, the lights in the bar dim. The curtain lifts, but there’s a sheet behind it, so that all once can see of Trucy is her silhouette.

“Now introducing… Trucy Gramraye!” The announcer booms, and there’s some applause, even though nothing’s happened yet, Trucy still not seen.

“There are times that we, in life, come to a crossroads,” Trucy’s voice booms through the speakers over a mystical sounding soundtrack, “ Where we our lives take sudden changes.”

Oh, Phoenix thinks, heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach, a theory forming in his mind, She wanted me here for her Last Show. Did something happen that made her want to stop being a magician? He’s tried to be supportive, even though he’s had some trouble keeping track of the supplies she needs, and how to help her out, with her teaching him far more than he can possibly teach her about this stuff. He’s offered to get in touch with Max Galactica, but Trucy had made it plain her opinion of that magician.

“Sometimes, you need to say things. And sometimes actions - and appreances - speak louder than words.”

Phoenix almost wants to stand up, to shout at her that no, he doesn’t want her to give up her magic just because she thinks it’s going to make him happy, but he’s frozen in his seat as the sheet of paper hiding his daughter from view is torn through and fog comes rolling out… but she’s not there.

In a puff of smoke, Trucy appears on top of his table. She winks down at him, the spot light finding her.

Her red hat and cape and bag are all gone, replaced by pale blue versions. New, lovingly crafted, and Trucy puts her hands above her head in a pose.

“I am Trucy Gramarye, but your little witch in red is now a magician in blue. Sorry if I startled anybody by coming… out of the blue like that?” Trucy says. She smiles, twirls around, and in another puff of smoke she’s gone. The room goes dark.

The spotlight finds her back on the stage, still in the strange blue uniform.

“Wh-what- when did she-”

“You know, in Kurain, we have to make all our own clothes.” Maya says with a mischievous little smirk.

“You mean you-”

“She wanted to put together something to make sure you weren’t too sad today.” Maya explains, smiling.

Phoenix does his best not to cry so that he doesn’t miss any bit of the show.

When it’s done, Mr. Wunderbar brings over another chair and Trucy sits with them. Phoenix spends the evening surrounded by his friends, by his family, and staring at Trucy’s new outfit. Blue, just like his old suit, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” She asks, surprisingly shyly, right before bed. Phoenix grins, picks her up, and twirls her around.

“You look amazing sweetie. You know, you didn’t have to go through all that just for me.”

“I didn’t do it just for you.” Trucy defends, “I did it because I wanted to! And because I love you!”

“I love you too Truce.”

Tomorrow morning, reality will set in again. He’ll have work, and maybe all the grief he was able to put off today will make a forceful comeback, but tonight he knows he’s loved, and that Trucy wants to be a part of his world, wants to be a part of his broken little family, and maybe that’s all that really matters in the end.

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,477

summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

warnings: None yet other than language. This is purely plot and set up. Smut in future chapters.

a/n: First fic so go easy on me. Probably a lot of spelling and grammatical errors but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to write it. Anyways enjoy! xx

>>><<<

You checked your eyeliner in the visor of your car one last time before shutting it with a huff. You wanted to be here today, you really did, but you also wanted to be at home working on the mile-high pile of laundry that had managed to back up over the last week and a half.

The day was perfect for a cookout, the sun was shining and there were very few clouds in sight. Which meant your bubbly, bouncy, mountain of joy was going to bolt for the pool any second now.

"Okay Thea," you said, turning around to your 4-year-old daughter to give her the before we go in here talk.

"When momma says it's time to leave that means no fight. Right?"

"Right." She agreed. Her eyes wide with excitement and you knew you were only going to hold her attention for a few seconds longer before she lost complete patience. She was already in her swimsuit and her small tiny hand was on the door handle, her bright pink nail polish you had painted on the night before not chipped yet, and her pink and blue friendship bracelet from your sister hanging on her wrist.

"And if momma tells you something, you're going to listen or we're leaving. Got it?"

"Yes!" She groaned her attitude already that of a grown teenager and not a 4 almost 5-year-old.

"Alright, go on then." You never thought she could open the door that fast but as you saw the pink streak of her dashing towards the house you could help but chuckle. She was definitely a handful sometimes especially since you were a single parent but you wouldn't trade your life with her for anything. Plus you were better off without the lying sack of shit that unfortunately had to be her father.

"AUNT SARAH! UNCLE MITCH!" You heard her scream her hellos to your friends and shook your head at her antics. You knew she was excited to see them. It had been a long time since you had felt comfortable enough to come around your old friends. The divorce had really taken its toll on you, made you isolate from everyone you used to talk to. You were just finally starting to get out of the hole you had managed to dig yourself in, a year was long enough to mourn for the life you were never going to have.

"Hey guys." You smiled brightly as you gave Sarah a hug. You had only known her a short time before she married your high school best friend but in that time you had really gotten close and enjoyed having her around maybe even a bit more than you did Mitch.

"You look amazing Y/N!" Sarah gushed over your new outfit you had just bought. The white wrap dress laid perfectly against your curves. It hit just above your mid-thigh which made your legs look long and the white lace trim danced beautifully around your bust, making your cleavage look incredibly larger than it actually was. You had to admit this dress was an absolute steal and made you look like a knockout but the simple white strappy heels had to be your favorite part of the whole outfit. They were surprisingly comfortable for being heels and versatile. You could easily wear them again which meant you could justify how much you embarrassingly spent on them.

"Oh, this old thing?" You teased.

"Don't listen to her Y/N, you look like absolute garbage." Your supposed best friend laughed as your daughter joined in. Hugging her Uncle Mitch tightly around the neck.

"Keep it up Rowland and I'll kick your ass like that time in 11th grade P.E."

"MOMMA!" Thea yelled at you, making your heart stop in its tracks. That stupid fucking rule about no cursing was really starting to come back and bite you on the ass. You grumbled a bit as you fished around your purse and pulled out the small coin bag. You picked out a quarter and handed it to her. After all, rules were rules.

"That stupid Curse Jar is going to make me go broke." You murmured to Sarah as Thea told Mitch all about how she had $20 saved up from the jar and was going to buy a new barbie doll with it.

You followed Sarah into the kitchen to finish helping cut up fruit for the cookout as Thea dragged Mitch towards the swimming pool. She rambled on and on about how her swimming class was going and how excited she was to show him her new swim moves. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips if she wasn't going to have much of a dad at least she had her Uncle Mitch.

"You know, Harry will be here today." Sarah said not taking her eyes off the strawberry she was cutting up but it made you stop what you were doing immediately.

"You decided the best time to bring up setting me up with him again would be when I had a knife in my hand?" You simply went back to cutting the watermelon into cute little cubes. Trying your hardest to ignore this whole conversation.

"Come on Y/N! It's been a year since Ryan and you need to get back out there. Start seeing people again. Harry doesn't ever shut up about you since the last time you guys met. Drives Mitch crazy." She turned to you putting down her knife. Obviously wanting you to actually talk to her about this and not ignore it. You sighed and sat down your own before wiping off your hands.

"No offense or anything but the last time you guys set me up with someone I ended up divorced." You tried to be as nice as possible but this was pointless. You weren't going to budge on the topic and you didn't need her making you feel guilty for not giving him a chance.

"Besides I'm sure he's more than happy with whoever his girlfriend is this week. I don't need to be another notch in someone's bedpost when I have a daughter to think about." You turned back around to your cutting board hoping that would be the end of it.

"Not all men are like that." She sighed and turned back around to her own cutting board. You could tell by her voice she wasn't done with this but was choosing to let it go before you completely shut down.

"Maybe not but you can't blame me for being closed off. I mean for God sake I walked in on him fucking his side piece in our bed." You said bitterly, cutting your fruit a little too violently.

"I know. I know. Okay, I know, everyone knows, but it wasn't your fault and it isn't good for you to stay this angry."

"I--" You started to tell her how you weren't angry you were pissed. You were mad that the person you put your faith in crushed everything but you were cut short by the handsome brunette that walked through the kitchen, with a bottle of wine in his ring laden hands.

You had to admit he looked great but you quickly shoved down the butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't like him. You couldn't like anyone right now but especially not him. Even though you wanted to, he came with too many complications, too much baggage.

"Hi." He smiled brightly. The kind of smile that made you want to melt into a puddle, his perfect white teeth shined. It was infuriating how pretty someone could be.

"Hey, Harry. Mitch is out back with Thea but you can leave the wine with us." Sarah nodded her head to the empty space oh the counter beside you.

" 'f course you only care about the wine" He rolled his insanely bright green eyes and sat the bottle on the counter. His sight finally landed on you and you could have sworn you heard him suck in a breath.

"Hey, love." He smirked as you kept your eyes firmly on the watermelon. "You look nice."

"Well, I tend to not look like trash all the time Harold." You snapped back but he just laughed it off. His chest rumbled deeply and it made you want to punch him or kiss him, it could have really gone either way at this point.

"Still feisty." He said his smile never faltering from his face. "Have fun girls." He turned and walked out of the kitchen and you couldn't help but look as he walked away. Couldn't hurt to look after all but the smug chuckle you heard from Sarah snapped you out of it.

"Oh, you two are so going to fuck." She snickered. You narrowed your eyes at her.

"I'm definitely not fucking him."

[lisinfleur]

Child

The request:

Author’s Notes | I don't really think a thing like this would be completely ok for both sides, so I decided to write it from Hvitserk's POV. Hope you don't mind but it came out a little more angst that I was planning haha.

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Hvitserk x OC.

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW7

Words | 2053

⁑ Warnings: ANGST

One more cup and the jar was empty.

"Bring more mead," my voice sounded and the slave brought a new amphora with mead to my table.

At the Hall, they were celebrating - Ivar's wife was full with child and they were happy, feasting, partying.

"Won't you join them, Hvitserk?"

"No," I answered, cutting the familiar voice before Þyra could finish that sentence.

However, she sat beside me anyway, causing me to swallow the whole cup of mead at once, filling it again.

Or intending to, if her fingers weren't holding my amphora, preventing me from pouring more mead into my cup.

"Is it me, or are you sad for your brother's good news?" she asked.

And I wasn't able to look at her. To lie right on her eyes.

"I'm not sad. You're seeing things," I tried to slide out of her claws.

But she knew me better. Not better than Y/N, but I could say Þyra knew me as much as it was possible for a shieldmaiden who fought beside me so many times. Someone who saved my life so many times.

Þyra was the closest to a perfect woman for me I had ever found. Fierce, strong, delicate, gentle. But somehow, I had kept my interest to myself, treating her like a close friend. Despite not being my best.

"Leave me alone, Þyra. I just want to..."

"Drink yourself out. And whenever you want to do it, it's because you're sad, annoyed, or hurt. Which one this time, if not sad... Then maybe... hurt?"

"Stop," I warned, coming up from my chair and leaving the table with Þyra right behind me, leaving the room and crossing the way to the square outside where people wouldn't hear me speaking.

Where Ivar wouldn't hear me breaking the promises I made that were now tearing my heart in a million pieces.

"What's happening? Why are you fleeing from them? Hvitserk, come on! It's Y/N's dream becoming true! You were always so..."

"Close!" I interrupted Þyra once again, speaking harshly this time. "I know, Þyra! I know this better than anyone else, that is my best friend and my brother celebrating their first child inside. I know and I don't want to fucking be there. Isn't it clear?"

She crossed her arms and I knew she would stand there, petrified by my side, until she knew the reason why I'm being so aggressive.

The first drops of rain started falling from the grey sky and people started entering the hall and their houses, closing tents and leaving the square, almost as if the gods were providing me the perfect scenario to pour my heart out without breaking Y/N's trust in me.

Unlike them, I sat on the square's stair, sliding my hands through my hair, through my face. Sighing when Þyra sat beside me.

"You'll get wet," I warned.

"I'm not made of sugar," she answered.

And silent sat beside us like a third person.

I looked at her, sitting there like a statue. Getting wetter and wetter when the rain started to become too strong, embracing herself, forcing herself to stay despite the cold. She wouldn't leave my side. Not without her answers. I sighed again, covering her with my cloak.

We weren't made of sugar, but she didn't have to freeze there beside me.

"We're gonna catch a cold in this rain," I mumbled.

More to test if she would hear me in that lower tone.

"I don't freaking care, Hvitserk. Stop trying to give me reasons to leave without knowing what is making you..."

"Their child is my son," I spoke it out, silencing her voice in a surprised squeak.

Feeling as if I had thrown up the knot that was preventing me from breathing inside my throat.

"H-how? Hvitserk, you... Y/N... Oh, my gods, Ivar..." she covered her mouth and I shook my head negatively, rolling my eyes.

"I didn't fuck Y/N behind Ivar's back if this is what you're thinking, Þyra. That's not what happened. They came to me. They wanted a child and after a year of failed attempts, they thought we could try to see if it was Ivar's problem or hers. If she wasn't with child after a night with me, then... Then they would buy a slave for Ivar to produce a child. If she was with child, then it would be Ivar's blood without the chance of his disease and so he would raise the child as his own. Like we suspect father did to Björn."

That thing uncle Rollo told me and I told Ivar. I'm sure it was what made Ivar come out with this idea.

"Oh," Þyra's voice gained a comprehensive tone. "Then it comes that its Ivar's problem after all..." she commented.

"Maybe. Maybe they just were impatient to wait for the gods' will towards my brother. The fact is that Y/N is carrying a child of mine in her belly and..."

My heart clenched and I saw Þyra's expression changed when she noticed this was what was hurting me after all.

"And your firstborn won't know who you are. Gods, Hvitserk... Why didn't you tell them no?" she said, patting my shoulder when I held my face in both of my hands before looking at her.

"Don't you think I thought about denying it, Þyra? I did, but fuck... It was my best friend and my brother, at my door, asking me a favor to realize their dream to become parents... Y/N dreamed about having a child through her whole life! I couldn't just... I couldn't just say no."

She sighed when I lowered my face one more time.

It was eating me inside.

"Can't you talk to them about this?" she asked, and I giggled, bitter.

"And ruin their happiness? Come on, Þyra, you know me better than this! We shared a night, the three of us, not far from today, two moons, one moon ago. Y/N acted as if I wasn't there, Þyra. She kissed me, we had sex, but I wasn't really there for her. It was him all the time, they exchanged caresses all the time, she made sex to me, but it was love with him. Y/N loves Ivar with her soul and not even under another, she could pretend it wasn't true. I cannot go there now and tell them I gave up on my promises and I want to tell their child that I'm its father. I can't steal it from her."

"Wait," Þyra said, lifting my face to look at her. "You said you shared a night with them... And they made love to each other. So, Ivar was there, right?"

"Yes, he was," I said, sighing.

Remembering how he wasn't bothered by my hands touching Y/N's body or how I restrained my moans to sighs of pleasure as she clenched around me, moaning his name.

She was his. Undeniably his.

And it was never a problem for me. It wasn't about Y/N.

It was about that child.

"Then there is a chance that this child is not yours, Hvitserk."

Þyra's voice broke something inside of my brain and I looked at her completely taken aback.

She seemed to notice my reaction because she continued, looking at me with property in her voice.

"There is a chance that Ivar made that child with her when she was sharing their bed with you. Or even before this happened. Or after. The thing is that she spent a night with you, Hvitserk. But she has been spending a whole year of nights with your brother. And she kept making love to Ivar after that happened between the three of you. So, there is a higher chance that this child inside her belly is Ivar's. Pretty higher than the chance that, in a single night, you were able to do what your brother didn't in a whole year of marriage."

I looked away from her, to the doors of the hall. The light was flickering inside, the party was still going on, although the doors were now closed because of the rain outside.

Þyra's words came like a lightning bolt inside my head. What if she was right? What if that night was useless after all?

What if I just spent a night with her and she got pregnant from Ivar anyway?

I was there mourning my firstborn and, in the end, it was Ivar's.

It could be his.

It was pretty more possible that it was his.

"You didn't think about this, did you?" Þyra sounded again, with that smart-ass tone of hers. "You should find yourself a wife, Hvitserk. This thing of having children is starting to take your min-".

I didn't let her finish: I just pulled Þyra against my chest and mashed our lips together in the kiss I always wanted to take from her, feeling as she melted in my arms, answering shyly to the surprise of my actions, kissing me back slowly until the contact between our wet and cold bodies was finished.

"You're right. I should find myself a wife," I mumbled as she was looking at me surprised. "And put my firstborn inside her. Before I end up becoming nothing but an uncle..."

"Y-yes," she muttered, and I smiled.

Feeling light for the first time since that started.

The rain had gone for a moment, almost as if the gods had covered my secret with those grey clouds. Washed the weight in my chest with that water.

"There you are," Y/N's voice sounded followed by a giggle.

One of those happy giggles I liked so much to see in her voice.

"We were searching for you, Hvitserk! Oh..." She stood beside me with a heavy cloak around her body. "I didn't know you weren't alone," her smile became bigger and I got up, helping Þyra to get up as well. "Ivar and I were searching for you. I couldn't see you anywhere in the party."

"And I'm sure Ivar will be pissed off when he discovers you're outside trying to freeze his child in your belly, Y/N! You should get in, little oven. This bun won't be ready with the cold here outside. Come," I joked, causing her to smile when I touched her belly.

For the first time feeling light since it all began.

My fingers felt the small bump inside her dress and for a second, my heart clenched again.

What if it was really my child?

But Y/N's hand touched mine and she smiled at me so bright.

She was so happy.

So much more now that she saw me kissing Þyra...

"Bring your girlfriend with you, Hvitserk. It will be something more for us to celebrate tonight, after all, my brother is finally getting somebody to love, I suppose?" she said, getting Þyra fully clumsy.

My hand left her belly to embrace Þyra's waist and I smiled.

It wasn't my child.

It was their happiness.

And it was time to build mine.

"You're right. It's past the time for me to introduce someone into this family so... A brave shieldmaiden who saved my life twice seems good enough to be my wife, right, sister?" I joked as if I had never shown my interest on Þyra before.

And somehow, she got a way to become even redder when Y/N laughed at me, happier.

"Come in, silly one. Let us get you some dry clothes and good food, huh?" Y/N said, pulling Þyra by her hand, going back to the hall with a big smile in her face.

Þyra still looked back at me, confused. Taken by surprise by my sudden decision. But it was true I had looked at her to be my possible wife for a long time. And maybe it was a good time to start building my own life.

My eyes looked up to the sky. The sudden rain was starting to dissipate itself. A few rays of the afternoon sun starting to show itself.

I knew the gods had my secret taken. I knew they had that weight washed from my heart.

I mutely thanked them before starting to walk back home.

I had a party to celebrate.

A proposal to make.

And maybe a child to produce that night...

One that was really going to be mine.

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[snusbandxknifewife]

An idea I had for a fic where Jude introduces Cardan to some technology in the mortal world. I hope you all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~

It began on one of Jude’s routine trips to the mortal world, as she was walking through the hall from the living room to the half bath in Vivi’s apartment. Behind her, the tv blared and Oak loudly sang along to the opening theme song. Vivi and Heather were out for dinner, like they usually were when Jude came for her weekly cartoon dates with her little brother, because apparently there’s only so much Teen Titans that Vivi can take.

She’d never paid much attention to the walls in the hallway, never studied all the photos in their wooden frames, all painted by Heather with different designs. She’d never looked at the pictures of Heather and Vivi, at the new school photo of Oak or the collection of Polaroids from his last field trip to the zoo.

She’d never put any thought to how she didn’t have a single photo of herself.

Over the next few weeks, no matter how hard she tried to shake the thought from her head, it wouldn’t leave. She had no pictures from her life before Faerie, no snapshots of her human family or what she looked like growing up, she had nothing to remind herself what she used to look like.

She tried to tell herself it’s foolish to mourn over something like that, that she threw Mr. Hiss into a fire long ago and she would’ve likely done the same to any photos, but she just can’t seem to stop trying to picture her mother’s facial features and her father’s smile. She knows it would be so much easier if she just had a single photographic reminder.

So that’s how she finds herself in a shopping mall, pulling her confused husband towards a photo booth by the escalator.

“My love, wherever are you taking me in such a rapid manner?” He sounds bemused, but he doesn’t try to pull away from her.

She’d brought him with her to the mortal world multiple times. Oak once requested his presence for a Teen Titans date, another time Jude had needed tampons and Cardan had been absolutely fascinated by the concept of a convenience store, and on more than one occasion he’d demanded they return to the land of Ulta. Still, in all his time visiting the mortal world, he’d never been inside a mall.

Jude doesn’t answer as they reach the booth, electing instead to pull back the ratty black curtain and shove him unceremoniously inside.

He’s almost comically too large for the tiny photo booth, his fae body far too long and graceful to fit comfortably on the bench. Still, he sees the look in her eyes and decides not to fight her, pulling in his feet as best he can and doing his best not to laugh as she tries to fit in with him.

“Just humor me, ok?” She’s short as she pulls a wrinkled five dollar bill out of her wallet, inserting it into the money slot and cursing when the bill spits back out. An impressive string of language and one flattened bill later, she’s tapping away at a glowing screen.

“Jude, darling, are you alright?” The laughter is gone from his voice, replaced by concern as he watches his wife furiously tap, her frantic anger not quite covering the tears welling up in her eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong, my wife.”

Her finger freezes and she bites at her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, not daring to look towards Cardan for fear of losing her self control.

She takes a deep breath, focusing on calming her racing heart, and says, “I want a picture with my husband, because I do not have one with any of my family.”

He brings a hand up to her face, thumb brushing against her cheekbone as he delicately turns her towards him. Her eyes remain lowered, focusing intently on the logo of the black band shirt he favors most on their visits to the mortal world.

“Jude, my sweet villain,” his teasing lacks all the bite from when they were still schoolchildren, “you should’ve just told me. I would’ve already arranged for us to sit for a portrait.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I want a picture, a photograph.”

His brows furrow in confusion and she finally looks up to him, her eyes pleading.

“Then we shall sit for a photograph.” He concedes, not having the faintest idea what a photograph is. He looks around them, lip curling at their dark, cramped surroundings. “Though I’m confused as to why that would lead us to this little black alcove.��

She turns back towards the glowing screen and presses it a few more times before leaning back. He absentmindedly wraps an arm around her, his fingers playing with the hem of her peach blouse.

“Look right here and smile.” She points straight ahead, at a little glass plate with some strange object embedded behind it. “Don’t blink when it flashes.”

A little voice calls out from a small black circle that Jude has once explained was called a speaker. It counts down from five and Cardan obediently smiles, keeping his eyes open even when a bright white flash threatens to blind him.

Then his jaw drops open as the screen displays a portrait of them, the most lifelike he’s ever seen.

You can read the logo of his shirt, see the lace detailing of Jude’s blouse and the individual strands of her hair. Every color is accurate to life, down to the gold ring around his irises and the faint blush on his wife’s beautiful cheeks as she offers the most dazzling smile he’s ever seen.

He’s so busy being in awe of the photograph that he doesn’t hear the little voice counting down again, doesn’t pose or smile or prepare himself at all. He’s shocked when a second flash illuminates the booth, capturing another photo of them.

This one pops up on the screen, showing his dumb astonishment in perfect detail. He finds himself flushing in embarrassment at how stupid he looks, at how openly awed he is by what Jude must see as simple technology, but he stops when he sees Jude in the photo.

She’s not looking forward like in the last one. In this picture, she’s looking at him.

If her smile in the first photo was dazzling, then this one was sensational: the most gorgeous she’d ever looked, in his humble opinion. The easy tilt to her lips, the adoration in her eyes that he’s never really seen himself, the way she watches him with love written in every line of her face. Is this truly how she looks at him when he isn’t watching?

His Jude, his queen and his spy and his warrior, has never looked so lovely as she has in that photo, that photo where she looks relaxed.

He turns to her as the speaker counts down a third time, finding her still watching him with that look. His heart absolutely melts, every beat screaming out her name as a grin pulls at his cheeks.

When she sees his smile, she actually giggles—she giggles. A little tear of joy rolls down her cheek and the booth flashes white and another picture has been taken.

He doesn’t get to look at this one, because he’s too busy pulling his wife in for a kiss. His fingers card through her hair and her hands grab fistfuls of his shirtfront as the speaker counts down a fourth time.

By the time the flash goes off, Jude is all but on his lap.

When the booth is dark again, she pulls back, her eyes glittering in the faint glow of the touchscreen. He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the sound of something falling.

Jude turns and grabs a long strip of shining paper, folding it down the middle and tearing it in half before handing him one side.

He grabs it, holding it in his hands as softly as possible as he looks down at the four photos of them, little versions of the ones that had been displayed on the screen. Each is more realistic than any portrait he’d ever laid eyes on, each shows a Jude that seems genuinely happy.

“Thank you,” she whispers with tears once again in her eyes as she looks down at her strip, “for humoring me.”

“Jude—“

“I know it seems silly to an immortal, once you’re grown, you all don’t change with time,” she continues like she didn’t hear him at all. “But for humans, change is constant. To have a snapshot of a memory, a moment frozen in time, gives us something to look back on years later. It gives us a way to remind ourselves what we were like then.”

She looks back up at him, clutching the photos to her heart with a quivering smile, a smile brighter even than the horrid flash of the booth. Jude—his Jude—grinning from ear to ear over something as simple as a piece of paper. If they had been anywhere else, he’d have been willing to offer the world to capture that smile.

But he doesn’t have to, he’s already got it in his hands.

He looks once more at the pictures, at the one of them staring lovingly at one another and the one of them kissing with passion that his younger self would’ve thought impossible.

“Tell me how we can get more of these.” He breathes, not trusting himself to speak to loudly.

“We can buy a Polaroid, they print photos right from the camera,” she offers. “We could take that into Faerie.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead before insisting that she lead him to where they may purchase such a device.

He’s going to fill an entire hall with just photographs of her.

~~~~~~~

@jurdanhell @cardan-greenbriar-tcp this is what my brain provided post-final, I hope you like it!

[sebs-anxiety-and-insanity]

TW: Implied self harm, implied suicide, c!thomas is a sad mess, cussing

Viewer discretion is advised

Here is the song by city and colour

The way it used to be/ ThVi (its sad)

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

This is the story of a man

Thomas sat on his couch, scrolling through Twitter, replying to mentions here and there, just sitting. He felt Virgil lay down on his lap, going seemingly limp against him. Thomas put down his phone to turn his attention to his boyfriend. "You good there, Virge?" He nodded, smiling. "Having anxiety is just exhausting." Thomas sighed. "Why didn't you come get me?" Virgil shook his head. "Didn't wanna bother you, and besides, it wasn't even that bad. Now I am here with you." He turned on his side wrapping his arms around Thomas's waist. Thomas sighed in content. He knew this would be the rest of his life and he was completely happy with it.

Who took for granted everything he had

"I- I'm sorry okay? Please calm down!" Virgil said harshly not wanting to scream anymore than Thomas already had. "NO! WHAT THE HELL?!!! YOU KNEW THAT WAS IMPORTANT TO ME!!! THAT COULD'VE BEEN MY BREAK!!" Virgil shrunk back a bit. "I- I know, but-but I can't help it! Its literally my job!" Thomas huffed. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ANXIETY!!!!" Virgil flinched. He called him anxiety instead of his name.... Right as Thomas began to opened his mouth again, Virgil teleported to his room, locking the door.

And how he let it all just slip away

From then on, Virgil didn't act the same, flinching away from touches, hardly speaking and never wanted to be touched really. And a few months after a few more fights and awkward encounters he finally came out of his room he only grabbed a book, one Thomas had never seen before, and left. Returning hours later to say quietly that it would never happen again. And he left. Thomas would've gone after him but he had to go somewhere, and he would always be here when he gets back. Waiting for him since there isn't no where else to go.

Never to return again

He arrived back home sad? He hadn't had any anxiety which was unusual since he was surrounded by a bunch of people, bombarding him with a bunch of questions. He decided now was the time to go check on Virgil, say he is sorry and figure out why everything seemed gloomy. He went into the mind palace, and even the living room which was a neutral space was sad, not as much as everything else but still sad. He walked up the stairs, immediately noticing the bright blue door that had dogs and cats with a couple of frogs, was deepened and cracked, similar things done to the other doors. He walked down closer to Virgil's room, when he heard sobbing. Panic seeping in he ran to Virgils room only to stop dead in his tracks. Patton was crying, and was being cradled by Logan. Janus was in tears on Virgils bed, cradling a piece of fabric. He looked in the bathroom and his blood ran cold. Roman had tears steaming down while harshly talking with Remus, who was in the same state. He couldn't make out what they were saying since they were not audible from where he was. And a single limp arm dangled from the bathtub, red streaks streaming down said arm. Rushing in Roman immediately tried to stop him from seeing, but it was too late. He already saw Virgils lifeless body in a bathtub of red from his bleeding wrists. Tears streaming down his face. He faught against Roman to get to his boyfriends lifeless body. Why did this happen?

Now twenty years have come and gone

"Yeah, well fuck you! You shouldn't still be mourning him! And even if you weren't you still can't pretend I am him!" Anxietys distorted voice rang throughout the room. Thomas flinched. It's been twenty fucking years and they still didnt know anxietys name. And he still looked like Virgil which didnt help shit. He looked up to notice that Anxiety had disappeared. He sighed sitting back down on the couch, head in his hands. god what happened?

And still he wonders what he did so wrong

The next week he stayed in his room, refusing to do anything. Yeah it was twenty years ago but seeing anxiety made it yesterday. He soon created a sick little world in his head, where Virgil never died. And they just broke up. But Thomas knew there was hope of getting Virgil to get back together.

And how that he can win back *his* heart

Anxiety was now scared to be anxiety. Patton always trying to be happy, but failing from time to time, but still always vowing to protect him from such awkward encounters with their host. Anxiety would walk down to get a snack and Thomas would have a date set up for the both of them. Always calling him 'Virgil' and ignoring him saying that he wasnt this 'Virgil' he kept speaking of. And even though he failed, Thomas would always try again. He just had to win Virgils heart back. Ignoring Logan who was trying to get him to stop this behavior.

And finally step outside of the dark

Thomas sniffed the Roses he had bought which was purple, contrary to Anxietys black clothing. Satisfied with the purchase he left, waving goodbye to the owner of the shop, who had remembered his name and a few things about him, since he was in there every day.

He buys fresh roses every day

He offered the flowers to Anxiety once again, who awkwardly pushed them away and teleported out of the situation. He felt horrible, only being known for the past him, and not- ... well, him! Who even said he liked roses.

His favorite flower- so he used to say

It was the middle of the night, and Thomas was sobbing into the covers. The only time he wasn't stuck in his fake world since he was on medication which often made him forget his fake world for the night. He was sobbing, going through various memories of Virgil wearing roses in his hair. He reached over to take another swig of liquor, the all too familiar taste calming him a bit. And anxiety had to watch, since he never slept.

And now the memories are all that he has left

His drinking got more prominent, and even Remus was worried, usually his sticking thoughts and jokes would be there no matter what, but he was drained and focused on his host, not knowing what to do, but watch as this got sickening, even for him. Anxiety was on the same page as Remus, just at a lower volume. But he was the one who had to watch it 24/7 and he couldnt bare to look at his host like this.

I'm afraid he'll drink himself to death

While Thomas kinda creeped him out, Anxiety still felt bad for him, and it was still his job to protect his host. He decided to tell Logan about the rising intake of alcohol each night, slowly turning into spiked coffee, and other things. He really needed to stop...

This is the story of a man

Patton set Anxiety down, preparing himself. "Hey kiddo... I know you know that Virgil, our previous anxiety and friend, has passed... away. But I don't think, we ever told you how.... And for you to fully understand why Thomas is the way he is now, you need to hear the story, and I'm forced to tell it as Roman and Logan have been losing their minds, you know because of Thomas pretending that Virgil is still alive..." tears gathered in his eyes as he continued, telling the story as best he could.

Who took for granted everything he had

Anxiety felt bad for his past self and everyone else... he completely understood what Virgil was going through. But hearing it from his father figure made it twice as hard to pretend to be unphased by the information. This is one sad and frustrating story...

And how he let it all slip away

Anxiety didn't know how to feel for his host, anger? Or pity? He really tried to understand what had happened, but the relationship between Virgil and his host was really confusing, how could it not be? Especially towards the end...

Never to return again

Tears were now forming in Anxietys eyes as it became harder to understand Patton who was sobbing. He had lost his 'son' after all... And Anxiety felt like he lost a brother.

It's clear he moved on long ago

Thomas spiraled even further as he realized that his efforts to get Virgil back with him were futile. And he hated it. He hated it so much. He took another sip of his spiked coffee. Hoping to calm his nerves however he could. But always no matter what, when his meds arent making him somewhat sober minded, he always goes back to believing that he could somehow still win Virgils heart...

But still he clings on to the distant hope

He never slept now, even before he got atleast two hours of sleep. But that didnt happen anymore.. Thomas just stared at the ceiling as flashes of them together played through his mind. They looked so happy... Virgil looked happy...

That he'll come back and make a happy home

Everyone was spiraling as Thomas did, but it took more time for some of them. And Anxiety couldn't help because that would hurt his host even more. Anxiety decided to stop watching his host at night. Staring at the ceiling. He felt utterly useless, and he hated it. He sighed sitting up, the TV turned off, so it was playing footage of what Thomas was doing, and unsurprisingly he was still drinking and crying softly...

And now its him and the bottle all alone

As he spiraled he seemed to remember that his world was fake. And this made him unpredictable, and the others were spiraling with him, anxiety was spiraling the slowest. Which forced him to be the one always watching him. Sometimes he would look over at the TV to check on him and see him under a cherry blossom tree that had a swing hang on it. It was there he seemed the most sane. And numb, which kinda made it terrifying.

Sometimes you'll see him in the yard

You could tell by just looking at him sitting in the swing he was broken. Tears falling slowly, smiling to himself while he mumbles things to himself, something about how beautiful the imagination was. Clutching what seemed to be a purple hoodie.

A wounded man with a desperate heart

It seemed to be all he ever was, anxiety sighed sadly watching as Thomas pulled weeds from purple roses in the imagination. It seemed to be more of a calming thing, but it was still sad to watch.

He kept his Roses (hedges) trimmed nice and neat

Janus was watching Thomas with anxiety one day. Sadly noting that Thomas had replaced the area around the cherry blossom tree to replicate the way it looked when they first got together.

To keep them the way that they used to be

Thomas sat there in the swing admiring his work.

This is the story of a man

He sighed swinging back and forth a bit.

Who took for granted everything he had

After that day he seemed to be getting better, going to see a doctor about his spiraling.

And he let it all just slip away

Thomas was in fact getting better. He had stopped drink as much as he did, but it was a work in progress, and he even got a bit more comfortable around anxiety.

Never to return again

Thomas hung up the purple hoodie on his bathroom door. Just... admiring it sadly.

A single dress hangs on it's own

He would often would often smell the hoodie, it still smelled like him...

A scent of perfume all he has to hold

He remembers fading to his final sleep that night, clinging to the hoodie...

A wasted life waiting on a dream

As he closed his eyes one final time he saw him and Virgil sitting on the swing. Having fun and talking, just enjoying the others presence.

Hoping for things the way they used to be

He was happy, finally. Gone from the world he knew as pain. And he smiled.

This is the story of a man, who took for granted everything he had. And how he let it all just slip away, never to return again...

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

Not really proofread so sorry for any mistakes!!!

But uh yeah hope you enjoyed!!

[saadiestuff]

“Don’t leave me behind.” - Alex giving Michael the ship piece back?

One Last Night (Malex fic - rated M) [AO3 link]

Michael stares at the reflective piece of spaceship console Alex has just handed him.

"I've had it for months,” Alex admits, “I should have given it to you as soon as you showed me your bunker, but then everything happened and…” he shifts on his feet, running a nervous hand through his own hair, “You're pushing everyone away so hard, Guerin. I’m hanging in there but--"

"Thanks," Michael says dismissively, and waves him off without looking up.

"Alright,” Alex sighs, because he’s not here to fight, not today. “Just... don't leave me behind, okay?" Alex adds, knowing it’s loaded, but meaning to make a joke of it anyways as it's a ridiculous thing to say -- a console does not a ship make. But the idea that Michael might want to leave if he could? It had been enough to make Alex run before, and it's enough to make Alex stand his ground now, even as he turns to leave.

"I can't promise that," Michael says quietly to Alex's back, and takes his breath away.

~~~~~

Months later, Michael shows up on Alex's doorstep in the middle of the night.

"You asked me not to leave you behind," Michael says simply.

"I did," Alex agrees.

"I never promised that," Michael tells him.

"I know,” Alex says, still remembering the ragged chill Michael’s words had sent down his spine. “How have you been?” Alex asks tentatively, for Michael has been a ghost for months, constantly disappearing, and impossible to get a hold of -- even more so now that Max is back, which is the opposite of what everyone had expected.

"I'm leaving tomorrow,” Michael says, ignoring Alex’s question, licking his lips for something to do while he debates holding Alex’s gaze.

Progress, Alex thinks, and chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly. “Thank you for telling me. We all worry when you drop out of contact for days at a time, you know,” he says tenderly, trying not to heap guilt on Michael, and adds a smile, “So... do you know when you’ll be back?”

Silence.

“Can you tell me where you’re going?”

“Tennessee,” Michael says, managing a near microscopic smirk.

Alex frowns, but he’s happy to see Michael with a sense of humour, sort of.

Michael’s gaze skitters away from Alex’s face, instead falling to his own feet, where he kicks at some mud his boots tracked onto the porch.

“I’m leaving the planet, Alex,” Michael says flatly.

“If you don’t want to tell me details, that’s okay. Like I said, I appreciate you letting me know you’ll be away for a bit. It’s good to touch base,” Alex says, reserved with his praise, fearing too much will scare Michael off somehow.

“I’m serious,” Michael says, and with all trace of humour gone from his tone and his face, it rattles Alex.

“As in... you’re travelling to outer space?” Alex asks, turning it over in his mind, thinking this has to be a metaphor, but not coming up with anything that’s good news.

“Yes,” Michael confirms.

“How?” Alex asks. Even with the console complete, it's not like Michael could actually go anywhere. The ship he'd need to build -- genius he may be, but the materials and resources he'd need? Well, he's not NASA.

Michael shakes his head, and looks off to the side, fixing his stare down the length of Alex’s porch and out into the forest. "Just believe it, for a second. And consider that I might not make it back… And tell me…” Michael exhales sharply and faces Alex again, “Tell me... do you want one last night?"

"Yes," Alex says quickly. He doesn't know what game they're playing, but this buys him time to figure it out. That’s what he reasons anyways, pushing aside that he’s been wanting another night with Michael since their last night together, before the drive in, before he walked away again, before he knew it was about to be over. It’s not like he replays that night over and over, their casual love-making after they’d so quickly fallen into a comfortable rhythm in just a few weeks time. And then the bagels, and not taking that damn ride. Fuck. Alex hadn’t been ready then -- he knows that even if they did it all over again, him then couldn’t say yes. But him now? Yes-yes-yes.

“Alex?” Michael seems to call softly to him from a great distance.

“Yes,” Alex says again, because he’s not sure what he said out loud and what was in his head, and he just wants to get Michael inside and for one night not be worried about where he is.

"You sure?” Michael drawls, trying to put up his swagger front and failing miserably in Alex’s ears.

“Yes,” Alex repeats easily, thinking of the last time Michael gave him this chance, when he’d had to push back so hard, with a whimper, or they’d have ended up fucking in a bathroom stall at the Wild Pony.

“Might it be easier to not have me again -- not make it fresh?” Michael continues, and Alex isn’t sure which of them he’s trying to convince, “You probably already forgot how it feels when I touch you."

"Never," Alex shakes his head and moves towards Michael. "Never did, never will," he whispers as his lips find Michael's, and he drags him inside, desperate to have Michael under him and safe.

Alex hadn’t even realized how scared he’s been all these months. Maybe he’d shoved that all down, so he’d be strong if Michael ever put himself within reach of help. And here Michael is, finally close enough for Alex to pull him into his orbit, anchor him, snatch Michael from his cold, lonely, wander of emptiness of space.

Indeed, as they fall into bed, Alex forgets what Michael has planned for tomorrow. Michael had only asked him to believe it for a second -- come and gone. So Alex takes it for what it is, whatever it is, he doesn't know.

But still, Alex notices that Michael treats it like a last. The way he pours into Alex, clinging to him, rocking too fast so Alex’s fingers must dig into his flesh harder, every ecstasy expressed by mournful whimper; each union lingering, staying joined together almost until beginning again, over and over again, all night long.

In the morning, in the light, Michael says his goodbyes with tears in his eyes, and Alex panics -- it suddenly all feels real.

Alex pulls at Michael's arm, trying to keep him in the bed, because once Michael is out he'll have a head start before Alex gets his prosthetic on, or even makes it to his old crutches. He'll slip away.

“I don’t know what outer space is code for, but you’re talking like you’re not coming back, and you’re scaring me!” Alex says frantically.

“It’s not code,” Michael says weakly. If he tries to explain, he’ll never leave.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Alex breathes, deciding to play along, yet he’s so terrified he might actually believe it, that this is goodbye, he doesn’t have to put on an act at all. “If you’re going to outer space, then-- then… I need another night!”

“Alex--” Michael starts to refuse him, but his throat tightens and he can’t breathe, let alone speak.

“Please, Michael,” Alex begs, “I didn't know this was the last -- I need one more!” He wants forever, but that’s asking too much, isn’t it? When Michael wants to leave the fucking planet for the hole in his heart -- one both Alex and his father dug deep.

“I told you,” Michael whines, because he can’t deny him, even as he twists away from Alex’s grasp.

Alex grabs at him, heaving a frustrated sob for his stupid leg and the thought that he won’t be able to chase Michael down.

“You told me but I didn't know! I didn’t, Michael. I didn’t!” Alex shouts, feeling wild and desperate and there's a pain in his chest he knows is a fraction of what it would feel to stretch their connection so far, across universes, for him to be left wondering.

"Shhh,” Michael soothes, sympathetic, for he knows in part what Alex is feeling, for Michael felt it every time Alex deployed -- though Alex had never gone as far as Michael planned to, and at least Michael always understood those could be lasts. So Michael moves to hold Alex close, conceding, “I'll give you another night.”

Alex calms instantly, tears drying up, voice finding its authority, the words rushing out. “You cannot not show up, Guerin. I will lose my fucking mind. I swear-- In fact, we should spend the day too, right?”

“Nah, I have shit to do,” Michael shrugs him off.

“You were planning on blasting off into space today. Your schedule should be pretty much free.” Alex snaps, because everything hurts and what the fuck is going on?

“I have different shit to do now. And I’ll have to modify some inputs for the new launch date.”

“Stop,” Alex pleads.

Michael ignores him, pulling away. “Same time, same place. Just you.” One last night.

He swoops to kiss Alex on the forehead, and then he goes.

~~~~~

Michael does come back that night. Alex weeps when he opens the door to find him standing there.

They waste no time getting as close as possible, but with both of them exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before, they only go one round before they’re tangled in the heap they’ll hold until morning.

“I half expected the lube to be laced with alien poison so you could forcibly confine me,” Michael says after a long silence.

“I considered it…” Alex admits, for he’d considered just about every option, “But I wouldn’t. You can trust me,” he shifts to look Michael in the eyes, hand going to his jaw so he can’t look away, not that he ever really does, but the time for substituted words is over. “I love you. I have since we were seventeen. And I always will. And even though you haven't been around lately… I've fallen more in love with you every day that I've let myself grow into who I am."

Michael’s voice is but a crackle, breaking over every word. “I love you, too."

They’re both crying now, managing only the messiest of kisses, mouths scarcely finding each other as they grab clumsily for something deeper -- more skin, more love, more soul -- all without ever really moving, precious energy not to be wasted on that, not when their time is limited.

Later, Michael wakes in the dark to Alex’s fingers strumming along his back, whispered words in his ear.

“Stay. Stay. Stay."

Michael feigns sleep. It's not hard, not with Alex's soothing rhythmic chant skittering over his skin, despite what it means. Until--

"Or, take me with you.”

Michael opens his eyes. “So, you believe me now?”

“Tell me what’s really going on. It’s just me. I could help you,” Alex says softly, impossibly gentle.

Michael just tucks into him closer, and hums against his chest, “The wind is going to be too strong tomorrow.”

And with that, Alex can close his eyes.

~~~~~

Michael comes back the next night.

And the next.

And the next.

It goes on for weeks. They stop having sex every night -- sometimes they just cuddle and sleep. And Michael starts staying for breakfast when it works with Alex’s schedule.

It goes on three months. Michael is there every night, though sometimes only briefly. He even comes by early for dinner often enough that Alex falls into the habit of cooking for two.

"I'm always eating your food," Michael says absently one day.

"I don't mind," Alex says.

Michael brings a bag of groceries the next day. Only enough for one meal.

After all, it's just one last night together.

~~~~~

Six months pass.

“Ready to go home?” Alex asks Michael, before paling, his mouth opening to try to walk it back, not wanting to risk upsetting the delicate balance they’ve mastered. But it’s too late.

For a moment, Michael worries that this disruption of the illusion will shatter him. What hits him instead is a warm wave of happy.

Michael beams. “I’m not going to space," he declares, "And I basically live with you. I don’t know when that all became okay, but it did.”

They barely make it out to Alex’s car before they’ve torn most of their clothes off, indignant squeals -- which they won’t talk about later -- emit from both of them as they whisper words like boyfriend and tease about cleaning out drawers for Michael.

The final wall between them, constructed of the eggshells of impermanence, goes down as they at last give their whole selves to one another.

But there is one thing that nags at Alex. Perhaps it is a thread he shouldn’t pull, but when they get home, he does, though only once he has Michael firmly in his arms.

“What does 'going to space' really mean?" Alex asks slowly.

"What do you mean?" Michael says sleepily.

"It's not literal,” Alex explains.

"What? Yes it is!” Michael exclaims, “I thought you eventually believed me?”

“Are you serious?” Alex is incredulous.

“Yes!” Michael says excitedly, trying to twist to face Alex, a little surprised to find he’s rather locked in a vice grip. “Alex,” he says softly, as he wriggles uselessly in Alex’s arms, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex reluctantly relaxes his hold. “But you could.”

“I’ll never leave you behind. I promise,” Michael says first when he turns to face Alex, “But yes, I could go to space,” he admits.

“How?” Alex raises a questioning eyebrow, “The console-- you needed a vehicle to attach it to?"

"Well... I got one..."

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Four: Street People ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, homelessness, blindness ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

They met quite by accident.

After the death of his parents and the disappearance of his brother, Sasuke was tossed from family member to family member. But wherever he went, ill luck seemed to follow.

The final straw was his aunt - his mother’s sister - facing a rather sudden death. Her son, Shisui, was already in college several states away when she took Sasuke in at the age of fifteen. For months, things seemed...normal. Manami had claimed she didn’t believe in superstitions like so many others in their family. According to her, they’d always been a magnet for misfortune.

But not long after his sixteenth birthday...Sasuke lost the last safe harbor he’d been afforded. After military service that took her leg, raising a son by herself, and mourning the death of her younger sister...Manami was killed ever so simply in a car wreck.

...she wasn’t even driving. A pedestrian struck on the sidewalk by a drunk driver. Her lacking limb meant she was too slow.

...too slow.

Sasuke found himself with nowhere else to go. Shisui couldn’t take him, and Sasuke refused his apologies.

“I’m not your responsibility. Don’t give up on your future for my sake. Don’t quite school. I’ll figure something out.”

‘Something’ turned out to be couch surfing for a while. But that was soon given up when his dropping out of highschool soured his reputation to many a parent of many a friend. 

And so...Sasuke was officially homeless.

Shisui, refusing to do nothing, had given Sasuke his car, claiming he was getting by in the big city without it. It was his only home, a place he could sleep, live, and travel in.

...but that didn’t change the fact that he was alone.

He worked odd jobs as best he could, but few wanted him around. A high school dropout, homeless, and with a bit of an attitude...he wasn’t exactly prime worker material.

Lounging in his car one night, he tried his best to think up some way to make money. He just needed enough to scrape by. Once he turned eighteen, he was sure, he could try to get his GED. Try to start putting pieces of a life back together. And Shisui would be back to help him out. But at the moment...he was stuck.

...and then it hit him.

Literally.

Rolling over in the back seat, he gave a cry and a curse as something along the rear dash tumbled off and clunk him on the head. Scowling and rubbing at the sore spot, he spotted one of the few things he’d managed to keep with him.

His guitar.

...of course…!

The next morning, he found a decent parking lot in a grocery store nearby one of his hometown’s parks. Locking the cart and jogging across a few intersections, he found a bench sat along a fountain. Sighing to steady his nerves, he placed a cap on the ground before him...and started to play.

Admittedly, he was a little rusty - he hadn’t picked the thing up since Manami died. But he knew quite a few tunes, and after a while to warm up...was actually doing pretty well. A few people stopped to listen, some even coming up to throw a few spare coins or bills in his hat, which earned them sheepish, grateful smiles.

And that’s when she showed up.

Drawn by the music, a girl his age carefully maneuvered through the crowd, stopping at the rim of people and listening. This guy was actually pretty good, she couldn’t help but think.

And then he started playing a song she knew...and it was her turn to have an idea. Cane in hand as she carefully guided herself to the edge of the fountain, Hinata sat along the lip...and began to sing along.

Startled, Sasuke had actually fumbled a few notes, looking to his unexpected companion and earning amused laughter from his little crowd. She was angled away from him, just...sitting there singing.

And honestly? She was...really good!

Gawking at her a moment longer, Sasuke eventually reverted his focus, finishing up the song and earning applause. Several people came forward and dropped money, and guilt quickly bloomed in his gut. Scooping up the hat and muttering thanks, he approached the girl, still sitting along the fountain’s edge.

“Hey, uh…” How to address this… “Look, you obviously earned some of this. You want a few bucks?”

“Oh, no - I’m fine. I...I hope I didn’t interrupt…?”

“No! Actually I think that really helped,” he admitted, spare hand itching his neck. Watching her, he realized she wasn’t looking at him, instead staring a bit over his shoulder with oddly-pale eyes.

...wait a minute…

Glancing to her side, he saw the telltale white cane. And then it all fit together.

“Are...are you blind?”

As soon as he blurted it, he went red in embarrassment. That was so rude, he did not just do that...!

“I-I mean -?”

But she just laughed. “I am. And d-don’t worry, I get that a lot. I have minimum vision - I can perceive s-some light, but...otherwise, I’m unable to see most things. Hence the cane.”

“...wow. Uh...I’ve never met someone blind before.” Thus he...really had no idea how to react. “...you...you sing really well.”

“Thank you. I took choir when I was in school.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed. But she looked his age… “...have you already graduated?”

“No...I had to quit. I...ran away from home a few months ago. For a while I stayed with a friend, but...it didn’t, um...d-didn’t work out. So now I’m doing this solo.”

“Blind?!”

Another laugh. “Well...so far it’s actually h-helped. People tend to be pretty sympathetic. But...it’s still difficult, yes.”

Sasuke scrambled to think of something - someone like her shouldn’t be navigating all of this alone! “W-well...I have a car! If...you need someplace to crash, I’d be fine with it. I can’t just leave you by yourself. That’s not right.”

Her lips curled in a somber smile. “Taking pity on me?”

“N-no, I just -!”

“I’m just teasing you. May I...ask you your name?”

“...Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha.”

“I’m Hinata Hyūga. Nice to meet you.”

A bit of an awkward silence bloomed.

“...y’know, I...was serious. If you need someplace to go -?”

“I’m sure you’re crowded enough, but I appreciate it.”

“No, really. I can’t just walk away. My mom would kill me. Just…” A nervous hand ran back through his hair...and then he asked, “...what if we just...did this together?”

“What?”

“Y’know...all this. And the performing. I’ve only been here an hour but there’s at least twenty bucks in here. If we, y’know...pooled our talents, I bet we’d do even better. Maybe even make enough to scrape by. And that way neither of us have to go it alone.”

Hearing he was serious, Hinata hesitated. “...you really...want to help me?”

“Hell yeah I do. I know it’d work. We can at least try it today. See what happens. Either way, I’ll buy you some dinner for your help if you decide to leave. How about it?”

Milky eyes blinked, clearly taken aback. “...all right. Let’s try it…!”

And so, they put their heads together, plotting out songs they both knew. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing slightly-shaky duets, Sasuke filling in gaps to let Hinata’s voice rest.

By the end of the day...they’d made over a hundred dollars.

“Man, this is the way to do it!” Sasuke couldn’t help but whoop. “Here, this is your half...want to go get something to eat?”

“Oh, yes please...I’m s-starving!”

One round of fast food later, they made their way back to Sasuke’s car. “Well...it’s not much, but for now, it’s home.”

“I’d be happy to see it,” Hinata lightly joked. Carefully, she felt her way into the passenger seat. “...well, I suppose I’ve broken my promise to Father about g-getting into a car with strangers.”

Sitting in the driver’s side, Sasuke just snorted.

“So you sleep in here…?”

“Yeah. That’s about the only time I’m in it, honestly. Move it when I have to, but otherwise I’m out and about trying to scrounge up money. Food. A shower. Stuff like that. I’ve managed okay so far.”

“...may I ask...w-why you’re homeless?”

“Lost my parents when I was seven. Was traded around by family, but...weird stuff kept happening. Last straw was my aunt dying in a car accident. Hit by a drunk driver.”

“Oh no…”

“My cousin’s away at college, said I could have his car. Took some finagling to get it in my name, and paying for gas and insurance makes things hard, but...so far, so okay. Shisui - my cousin - says he’ll come back and let me room with him once he finished up school. He’s going for his masters right now. Another year or so and he’ll be back.”

“Wow…”

“...what about you? You said you ran away…?”

Hinata gave a small nod. “...my father has always been strict, but...the older I got, the worse his treatment of me became. He treated my condition as a burden. I wasn’t the p-perfect daughter he wanted. A friend offered to let me stay with her, so I left...but her parents ended up saying I couldn’t stay. I’ve stayed in a shelter most of the time since. But, um...it’s not ideal.”

“Neither is living in a car.”

“No...but I guess n-none of this is easy. Being street people, I mean. I could go back to the shelter, but…” She seemed to dim. “...it can be...unpleasant.”

“...well, my offer still stands. It’s not grand, but it’s something. I bet we can make enough to get by pretty easy, between the two of us. And we wouldn’t be alone.”

Absently, Hinata slowly turned her cane in her grip, thinking. “...all right. I-I’ll stay.”

“Just until my cousin comes back. Then you can bunk with us.”

“B-but -?!”

“The way I see it, we’re friends now,” Sasuke replied airily, clearly ignoring her refusal. “And as your friend, I’ll just have to let you couch surf...once I’ve got a couch. But couches aren’t good for sleeping, so...it’ll just have to be a bed. Then you and I can catch up on studies, get a GED, and then...go from there. Until then, we give the folks a little song and dance for our dinner, huh?”

After a pause, Hinata just giggled softly. “...all right. It’s a deal.”

                                                          .oOo.

     So this is...very random. While the term 'street people' doesn't HAVE to refer to homeless people, it's the most typical example. I've had friends go through homelessness before, but know very little about it personally, so I didn't want to come off as either glorifying or ignorant. Hopefully I managed that much ^^;      Anyway, uh...not sure how to really extrapolate about this one. I likely got a lot wrong, lol - but I tried. I just like the thought of them pairing up and helping each other out, using their talents to scrape by until they can (hopefully) get a second chance. Probably won't continue this one, but it was neat, I guess!      But it's late, I'm very tired, and I better get to bed, so I'll leave it there. Thanks for reading!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Black Coffee (chapter three)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

If you’re enjoying this, please consider reblogging, adding a comment on Ao3 or donating to my Ko-Fi

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

Percy didn’t know the first thing about ballet.

He’d been marched to ballroom dancing classes when he was much, much younger; his parents thought it an integral part of knowing how to exist within the confides of the societal bubble they occupied. Percy had surprised himself with how much he’d enjoyed it, it seemed to be the only style of dancing that was exactly suited for someone as stiff and rigid as he was.

But ballet was a different world entirely. However it was one his new companion adored and always had by the sounds of things, given how he’d talked at length about borrowing his mother’s skirts and swishing around the living room to the soundtracks she’d buy for him from the thrift store, given how his face had fallen when he’d admitted that he’d cried the day he’d had to stop going to his little Saturday morning ballet classes because he’d moved.

Where he’d moved to or why or why this was the first time he’d mentioned his mother, Percy didn’t push any further on that. But he’d privately decided he was going to do something for that nine year old version of Vax’ildan and his dreams of being a ballet dancer.

So he was going to have to get his head around it. If Vax’ildan could keep a straight face through one of Percy’s meandering lectures on how the wiring found inside a radio was the most versatile he’d ever come across, Percy could put in enough effort to find the most prestigious, lauded ballet show currently going on in the city.

So he’d found one, bought tickets and sent them to Vax along with a black gown he could wear to the show. Something he could swish in.

Percy just hoped he’d picked the right one.

“And to do so many fouettés in a row…and then straight into that fucking incredible en pointe work! The amount of control you need to do that, it’s insane…”

Percy gave a grunt, just to indicate that he was still listening. Vax had been going on like this all through the intermission, through the drinks after the show and the whole taxi ride home. And all through the show itself, he’d been on the very edge of his seat, eyes wide and rapt, swatting at Percy if he made even the slightest noise.

Maybe Percy had been harbouring a desire to repeat their antics at the cinema, making good use of Vax’s long skirts and the darkness around them in the box he’d gotten for them. But after that he’d given up on the idea amicably, content to lean back and enjoy the delight on his face.

But now…

“The way the prima landed in that sauter, that’s nearly impossible! But even the simpler pieces, the grand adage, it puts so much pressure on your muscles to move that slowly…”

Sighing, Percy came up from between Vax’s thighs, throwing the blanket back so he could poke his head out rather like a gopher. Not the sexy image he was wanting to project in the moment.

“Vax’ildan?” he panted, breath short from his efforts already, “I am beyond thrilled that you enjoyed our date and I will take you to so many ballets now I know how important it is to you and you can talk my ear off about this stuff all night. But. Can I have the next ten minutes to eat you out and have you, you know, actually respond?”

Vax stopped, face going expressionless for a moment before he flushed bright red, “Oh. Right. Sorry…you’re doing a very good job.”

Percy barked out a laugh, “You do know how to make a guy go weak at the knees,” though his face softened after a moment, “And I mean it. You’re adorable when you’re excited about something. I’m glad tonight made you happy.”

Vax felt his throat tighten and something twitched in his chest, something not entirely unpleasant, only in how unexpected and unfamiliar it was.

Falling back to old habits, he made himself smirk, “Well, get back down there and really make my night.”

Percy grinned back and sank down below the surface, swallowed up by the ink black sheets. Then his hands were back at Vax’s hips, his tongue traced it’s now familiar route to the shallow pool of heat between his legs, deepening it and searching out new arches and hollows inside. And Vax began to scream.

When it was done and he was panting, face softly pink, a very satisfied and rather smug Percy resting his head on his chest, the feeling was gone.

Vax determined that, whenever he felt unsure or suddenly doubtful in the future, he would have a gorgeous British man eat him out. And he would trust Percy a little more with the hidden parts of himself.

“Have you had any auditions lately?”

Vax looked up from his bowl of cereal, well aware that his sister could read his face as well as her own- because it pretty much just was her own- and there wasn’t much point in trying to act anything other than guilty. But a guy had to try.

“No…no, it’s been kind of a dry spell. It’s not the start of the season, you know? Bad timing.”

“Right,” Vex didn’t sound totally disbelieving, mostly sympathetic. She stirred the coffee she was holding, ready to pour into a travel cup and try not to spill on other passengers on the train, “Hey, Vax, listen…”

Vax pointedly moved the longer parts of his hair behind his ears.

“Don’t give up, okay?” Vex sounded so much like their mother when she gentled her voice like that, “We’re going to find the right company for you. And they’re going to be so lucky to get you.”

Guilt flared up hot and sickly in Vax’s stomach. He knew himself unfortunately well enough to know all that broiling inside him would just turn to pure defensiveness when this whole charade came to its natural conclusion. But the thought of doing the sensible thing, of explaining his arrangement with Percy to Vex and admitting where last month’s rent had actually come from, the thought made his toes curl.

Not that Vex would be judgemental. Not that she’d turf him out of the house and call him a harlot and make him sew a red letter onto his clothes.

But she’d worry. She’d fret. She’d tie Percy to a chair and demand to know every little thing about him, threaten him with an arrow in the face until he confessed every second cousin’s maiden name. She’d get protective.

Vex had always been doing that, protecting her brother. Protecting him from bigger kids, from grief, from their father. Vax had always appreciated it but deep down there was always the sense that he never repaid her, he just found more trouble for them to get into and her to get them out of.

Vax didn’t want to be yet another job Vex had to juggle.

“Thanks, Stubby,” he smiled thinly, dropping his eyes back to his bowl, “Have a good day at work. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

He would, he and Percy didn’t have a date that night. He was half convinced he could still feel the tingles from their last one.

Vex paused and he was almost certain she’d say something more but all she did was give him the usual kiss on the forehead and wished him a good day. Trinket did his usual wailing in dismay as she disappeared out of the door, like he was never going to see her again. Vax couldn’t be too hard on the mournful old rug, he remembered when he was very small and would sob whenever his sister went anywhere without him.

He sat and munched away on the only knock off Lucky Charms they’d found that actually tasted like the real thing, trying very hard not to dwell on his various failings any more. Not easy, so he turned to the battered paperback by his hand. He’d gone to see the film with Percy a while back and had enjoyed it so much he’d borrowed the book.

He loved turning the pages to see where the spine was cracked, to see which parts Percy turned back to again and again. It was a book too mushy and shamelessly romantic for a nerd like Percy or a casual goth like Vax, in all honesty, but there was an undeniable charm to it. Vax had actually chortled aloud at some points, where he could see a line that was, if not a twin, but a very, very close sibling to ones Percy had used on him during their dates.

The sound of the post coming through the door kicked him out of his romantic little adventure. Unsurprisingly, that sound had been a source of great excitement for him over the last few months.

It was a simple looking package today. Though Vax had learned that was no reason to let one’s guard down; there had been many packages that he’d made the mistake of opening near Vex, leading to a muffled squeak of mixed embarrassment and panic and a fast exit to his bedroom lest she see the glamorous sex toy or wisp of lingerie within.  

But Vex was gone. And he was already feeling a familiar, welcome pulling in his lower stomach at the idea of the photos he’d send Percy if this turned out to be something similar.

But as soon as he ran his nail under the tape and pulled away the paper and unfurled the tightly folded tan material, Vax knew he wouldn’t be sending Percy any pictures. What he would be doing was running full pelt to the bus stop, getting the first one that would take him closest to Percy’s penthouse (using Vex’s bus pass) and flying up to give a very surprised Percy the biggest hug he could possibly muster while crying.

Of course the new binder in the parcel was the perfect fit and matched his skin tone perfectly. Percy never did things improperly, especially when they were important.

And then the feeling was back. The niggling, twitching pulse inside of him like an itch in the form of a thought. Irritatingly, constantly there but not enough that he could actually tell what it was.

It lingered even after they’d fucked vigorously, after Vax had used every trick he knew to show his appreciation for such a kind, thoughtful present, in the absence of words. Words had never been Vax’s friends but he could kiss, he could gasp, he could moan Percy’s name and hope he understood.

Percy slipped back into sleep after they were done, Vax had woken him up if his dazed look and rumpled hair had been anything to go by, so he was quickly forgiven. Vax was left alone with this strange feeling inside him, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he should chase it down or ignore it and hope it went away.

The second one won of course. So he turned to Percy and pressed his face between his shoulder blades, inhaling the scent of clean soap and the faintest, slightest amount of gunpowder. And things seemed better.

Vax whistled happily to himself as he jimmied his key in the front door lock that always got stuck when he tried to use it. Even that couldn’t ruin his mood as he sauntered in, reaching down and scrubbing Trinket’s ears fondly. He and Percy had stayed in bed all day, alternating between having sex and playing video games that quickly turned into

What did ruin it, what brought it crashing down with a sound like a ton of bricks hitting the floor, was when he looked up and saw Vex’ahlia, curled up on the sofa in a blanket with red rimmed eyes and a face like a storm cloud.

Instantly he realised how he’d fucked up.

“I said I’d make dinner…” he groaned, hands coming up to cover his face, “Oh gods, Stubby, I’m sorry…”

“Yeah,” Vex scowled, “I hope so.” She looked so much like their mother when she was pissed, too.

“Listen, I got tied up with a friend-“

“No,” his sister jumped to her feet, eyes black with the kind of anger that was truly terrifying, the kind borne from fear and love, “Enough of that. You are going to tell me what’s going on right now. The whole truth. Where you’ve been all these evenings, why you keep getting strange packages in the mail you hide from me, who keeps calling you. I don’t care what it is, Vax’ildan, you’re going to tell me because I’m fucking terrified.”

At those words, at the look on her face, Vax lost any fight that might have leapt up inside him to keep the quivering mass of guilt at bay.

Tears prickled in his eyes and he hunched over himself, “I’m sorry…I know I’ve been keeping things from you, I just didn’t think I’d be scaring you this much.”

“Of course I’m going to get worried when my brother starts acting like he’s in a gang!” Vex looked exasperated.

“Well…when you put it like that,” he muttered, looking down at his shoes, “And that’s not what it is, by the way.”

“Good. Now tell me what it is.” Her face was an impassable wall, no way around or passed it.

He should have rehearsed this in the shower, Vax realised, as he tried to get his mouth around the words. There was no nice way to say this, no delicate tiptoeing to be done.

“I just went and got myself a sugar daddy, that’s all! No big deal! He just pays me for sexy stuff.”

Well, that was about the worst way to say it.

“Right…” Vex takes a deep breath, clearly turning that over in her mind and trying to ignore the forced, unconvincingly flippant way he’d say it, “Well, you’re not dealing drugs or weapons. And it's not illegal…I don’t think?”

“Uh,” Vax frowned, “I hadn’t considered that?”

“Fantastic,” her voice flattened, clearly not impressed with that, “Do you even know his name? Have you met him face to face? When am I going to meet him?”

“See?” Vax threw his hands in the air with dramatic exasperation as he marched to the kitchen before remembering he’d totally dropped the ball on making sure there’d be food in there, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, I knew you’d make such a big deal about this…”

“It just…it sounds like the sort of thing you need to be so careful with,” Vex had begun to play with her braid, a bad sign, “And you’re not good at being careful, Scrawny, no offence.”

“Some offence, maybe. Fine, nosy, his name is Percy, he’s an entrepreneur trust fund kid and he doesn’t have it in him to hurt a fly. It’s not like I’ve fallen into bed with a gun toting maniac,” he scowled but he couldn’t maintain the indignation past that. Honestly, this was all a little relieving, his sister reacting exactly how he expected her to. Some things were always dependable, “Listen, I really am sorry. About scaring you and letting you down and…everything else.”

Vex gave him a long look, the ones the twins gave each other that could say so much more than words. And then she sighed, relenting a little, “You’re just going to have to let me worry, Vax. I’m sorry. I…I can’t not worry about you. Even if he is a weakling.”

“I’m okay, I’m being careful,” Vax promised, closing the distance between them as fast as he possibly could, wrapping her in a fast, firm hug, “I promise, Stubby, one day you won’t have to worry about me at all.”

“Not likely,” she gave a small laugh, hugging him back for a moment before giving him a playful shove, “Order a pizza, asshole. A big one. And we aren’t done talking about this, okay?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Vax sighed, digging out his phone, “Get yourself back under your blankets, Princess Stubby, I’m your slave for the rest of the evening.”

“Good,” she managed a tender smile, ducking back down to the comfort of her rug of a dog, “Love you. You know that, yeah?”

Vax gave her a smile in return, really meaning it and letting it show, “I know. And I love you.”

Some things really were dependable. And he could always depend on his sister to love him and exasperate him.

“Vex’ahlia, I’m going to kill you!”

Vex lifted an unconcerned eyebrow, turning a page in her book. It was one Vax had left lying around the other day, an honest to god bodice ripper. It was fun though, she’d smiled on more than one occasion and nearly laughed even.

After much banging and stamping, throwing his bedroom door back so hard it would probably dent the wall just to make his point, Vax came into the kitchen and planted himself firmly in his sister’s line of sight.

He looked like shit.

His nose was painfully red, a colour that matched the rings around his eyes. His skin was ashy, he looked like he was freezing even though the morning was fairly warm and his throat sounded rough. And he looked beyond furious.

“I told you! I knew you were sick!” Vax wheezed angrily, “And I knew you were going to get me sick!”

“Scrawny, it was a tickle in the throat for me, it’s not my fault if you’re going to be a big baby about it…”

“A tickle?” Vax sounds incensed, “I’m dying!You know I have a weaker immune system…I can’t believe you could be so insensitive…”

His sister didn’t look particularly moved as she stood up and gathered her work bag together, this was the routine every time a germ dared enter Vax’s bloodstream, “Just keep your fluids up and stay warm, okay? I’ve got to get going but I’ll call whenever I get a break and I’ll bring home some stuff from the drugstore.”

“What?” Vax went from offended to piteous in an instant, hating the words coming out of his mouth, “Can’t you…can’t you stay off?”

Sick days when they were in school had always been about Vex faking whatever illness had brought her brother down, insisting she had it too, so she could cuddle up next to him under the covers and stroke his hair, promising to punch whatever had made him sick.

She smiled softly, coming over and hugging him tightly, “We’re not in middle school anymore, Scrawny, sorry. You know I’d stay with you if I could.”

“I know…” Vax hugged her back, sniffling, “Have a good day at work.”

“I won’t,” she chuckles, drawing back after a defeated glance at the clock, “But I’ll be thinking of you. Make sure you rest, I’ll have Trinket sit on you if you don’t.”

Vax managed a weak, scratchy laugh, rubbing at his streaming eyes with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, “Yeah, being smothered to death would probably get rid of my symptoms. See ya, Stubby.”

As soon as she was gone, Vax sighed and stumbled to his bedroom, dragging his duvet out onto the sofa where he promptly collapsed, even that brief trip leaving him feeling utterly drained and more than a little shivery. Trinket gave a sympathetic rumble and climbed up next to him, squirming under Vax’s arm.

“Fine,” Vax mumbled without much hesitation, cuddling into the vast expanse of shaggy brown fur, “But don’t tell Vex.”

Trinket promptly began to chew on his hair contentedly.

“Fine,” Vax struggled to dig his phone out from the expanses of his duvet cocoon.

He felt a stab of regret as he typed out an apology to Percy. They’d arranged to go to the Spanish café downtown, one of Vax’s favourites. But he imagined coughing and spluttering and sniffling your way through a date would be bad form for a sugar baby.

Sorry, gonna have to get a rain check for today. Caught my dumb sister’s dumb cold. See you day after tomorrow?

He knew it wouldn’t be long until Percy got back to him. Even when he wasn’t expected in the office, he had the disturbing, unnatural habit of waking up early and making the most out of his days. The very idea made Vax shudder.

As he laid there, Trinket working dedicatedly on giving him a new hairstyle, Vax wondered why the unhappiness hadn’t shifted from his chest. He wondered if it was more than just the idea of manchego and pepper sandwiches he was missing.

Percy had become a good friend to him since they’d begun their little arrangement. Maybe it was the fact they saw each other so regularly. Maybe it was the fact that Vax was a fairly habitual motormouth. Maybe it was the fact he’d been on a fairly extended dry spell before they’d started shacking up, due to Mollymauk finding himself an honest to gods long term boyfriend and Shaun moving back to Tal Dorei.

But either way, Vax had found himself telling Percy so much more than he’d really told anyone else. Things just came so easily with the lanky, unlikely young aristocrat. His eyes were kind, he took everything that was said to him with a calm, even expression and he had a way with words that could be relied upon most of the time. And even when it failed, it was at least funny.

Vax found something that could even be called trust, running between them like a thin silver thread. Trust wasn’t something Vax gave out easily, not after the life he’d lived. He’d long ago realised that it was better to close himself off and depend on the very few people who’d proven themselves worthy, rather than reach out and burn his fingers or worse.

But Percy’s quiet ways, his gentleness, his eagerness to touch Vax and just be with him…and the way he seemed to be holding sadness inside him the same way Vax was. He’d settled into being with him, feeling safe with him, trusting him without even realising.

And now, facing down a day with Percy’s company replaced with that of a miserable cold, he realised that with more clarity than ever.

“Guess I really lucked out, huh?” Vax murmurs, finally yanking his hair out of Trinket’s mouth.

And somehow those words didn’t even feel like enough. And they came tinged with the feeling from before.

Suddenly, unexplainably desperate for something to do, Vax grabbed for his phone again.

Nothing on the screen. No message from Percy.

He frowned, sitting up a little, bringing a huff of annoyance from Trinket who had been leaning against him. It wasn’t like Percy to leave him hanging.

Now feeling thoroughly miserable, abandoned by both his sister and his sugar daddy to suffer through this illness, Vax wrapped himself tighter in his blanket and listened to Trinket snoring, watching cartoons on Vex’s laptop until his eyes unfocused and he drifted into something like sleep.

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been drifting before he heard the knock at the door.

“What in the hell…” he murmured, voice slurring, clearly even more stuffed up than he’d been before.

Forcing his legs to move, pressure screaming through his sinuses when he finally got upright, Vax lurched to the door, silently cursing whoever was behind it. Some unsuspecting salesman was about to get a Newfoundland cross set on them, the one that was currently bouncing around the door, ready to strike. Not that he’d do anything but slobber on them but still…

Trinket did his job perfectly, yelping and soaring through the doorway as soon as it opened, eager to greet the new friend behind it. However, he had quite a bit more force behind him than Vax had been expecting, then kind that could do some damage.

It certainly sent Percy careening completely off his feet and sprawling on the hallway carpet.

“Percy?” Vax squeaked in horror, “What are you doing here? Trinket, no, get off him!”

But after a second’s panic, Vax realised Percy wasn’t in any kind of distress. Though surprised, he was actually wrestling with Trinket, scrubbing his ears and laughing delightedly.

“You never told me you had a dog!”

“He…he’s my sister’s really,” Vax still stood, blinking in confusion, trying to sort out his feelings.

Percy was here on his hallway carpet, on their doormat. He was a handful of steps away from their living room which was an undeniable mess, after being occupied by an ill, bored Vax all morning. It was also as tiny, cramped and poorly wallpapered as it ever had been. And the whole thing, with all of its shoebox sized adjoining rooms, would probably fit into the sunken sofa section of Percy’s penthouse.

Vax was suddenly filled with an itch to slam the door, turn out all the lights and try and pretend he wasn’t home.

“What’s his name?” Percy’s glasses were hanging off his nose and his smile was a mile wide.

“Uh, Trinket,” Vax shrugged, hoping that jumper Percy wore, that was now covered in brown dog hair, wasn’t expensive.

“Hello Trinket! You’re gorgeous, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”

Trinket was adoring the attention of course, showing it by slavering all over Percy’s cheek. It was adorable, of course, but Vax’s fidgeting heart couldn’t let him enjoy it.

“Percy, what on earth are you doing here?”

It was as if he’d just realised where he was, awkwardness and hesitation washing over him, “I’m sorry, I know this is…we didn’t agree it in advance but…when you said you were sick, I called to see if you were okay and you didn’t answer so…I worried.”

“Oh,” Vax pulled a face, “Yeah, sorry, I fell asleep on the sofa. Must have been really been out of it, I didn’t hear my phone ring.”

Worry made his eyes go wide and he jumped up off the floor finally, “Have you been to the doctors? I brought some soup and medicine and things but if it’s really bad we need to get you some antibiotics.”

Vax stopped. That felt a little bit beyond the remit of ‘presents’. That felt like a genuinely heartfelt, genuinely sweet gesture, something that showed real care.

“You…you came here to make sure I was okay?”

“Of course I did,” Percy didn’t look like he’d been prepared for that response, for the genuine shock on Vax’s face, “I…I assumed your sister would be at work. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Vax’s throat suddenly felt incredibly tight and his eyes started to itch in a way that had nothing to do with any germ.

“Oh Vax…” Percy’s face fell, reaching out for him, bringing him against his chest in a way that couldn’t be denied.

Soon, much to his own dismay, Vax was sobbing against him and completing the destruction of his jumper.

“Gods, that’s gross, I’m sorry,” he croaked thickly once the tears thinned enough for him to get words out.

“Please don’t apologise,” Percy didn’t seem eager to let the embrace end, strong fingers still holding his shoulders, “It’s fine. I’ve not upset you by coming, have I?”

“No,” Vax managed a wobbly smile, feeling Percy’s hands anchoring him even when he’d been coming apart just a moment before, “I needed it. I just didn’t realise it until now.”

Lying around, zoning out over cartoons and repeatedly blowing his nose was a lot more fun when Percy was curled up next to him.

He had a habit of reaching over and idly stroking Vax’s hair, letting the inky rivulets run through his fingers over and over again like he was never going to tire of it. It was so comforting, a way of knowing that there was always someone beside him, someone who cared about him.

“I hate being alone when I’m sick,” the half elf mumbled, voice vague and still thick with whatever gross stuff made people sick that he didn’t want to think about, “That’s why I...y’know, when I saw you…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, love,” Percy tucked the blanket a little tighter around him, “I understand, it’s a horrible feeling.”

Vax, maybe not as in control of his currently cotton stuffed brain as he’d like to be, frowned, “But...you live on your own? Who looks after you when you’re sick?”

Percy tilted his head, “Well...I’m used to it by now. I don’t really get sick all that often.”

Vax pulled a face, slumping back against Percy’s chest, lacking the energy to hold his body up for any length of time, “Next time you’re sick, I’m gonna look after you. Pinkie promise.”

There was a warm chuckle, one that made the skin against him rumble pleasantly, “Well, I’m probably going to get whatever you’ve got after today. So I’m going to hold you to that.”

Vax sighed, drifting in and out of sleep for a little while before murmuring, “I feel bad. You came all this way and I can’t even kiss you, let alone fuck.”

“Don’t you dare feel bad,” there was no chastising in Percy’s tone, just tenderness, “I didn’t come here for any of that. I came here because I wanted to help.”

Why?

The question rose up in his throat, threateningly but Vax managed to swallow it back. It would do no good, the conversational equivalent of kicking at a pile of ash that had hidden embers within its depths.

But the question didn’t go away, a butterfly beating its wings in his chest.

“You’re sweet,” Vax said quickly, realising the pause was getting a little too long, “But you are getting a hell of a reward once I’m well enough. Just saying.”

“Well, if it’s on offer…” the tips of Percy’s ears coloured pleasantly.

The laughter came easily, as it always did when he was around Percy. Vax was just considering leaning in and kissing him, germs be damned, when the front door opened.

Trinket, of course, rocketed up, upsetting the nice arrangement they’d had on the sofa where he’d been providing most of the softness. As much as Trinket loved to be cuddled, he loved his mama more and she’d just walked through the door.

Vax was less pleased to see her, face colouring a deep plum.

“Hey, Stubby…” he began, hoping the term of endearment would take away the awkwardness of her walking in and finding him draped over some guy. He quickly put an appropriate distance between himself and Percy, so fast any middle school dance chaperone would be proud.

“Hello,” Vex’s answer was clipped, wary. Clearly the nickname hadn’t done its job.

“This is Percy,” Vax motioned, smiling through the pain, “You know…I was talking about him the other day?”

“I remember,” Vex’s eyes bore into Percy like she was staring into his soul, as if she could detect at a glance any intention to hurt her brother.

Percy responded in kind, visibly squirming behind his impenetrable mask of politeness, probably one of those things they taught you at the fancy colleges rich people went to. Though he managed to put on a stiff upper lip, standing and shaking her hand, “A pleasure to meet you Vex’ahlia. Your bother has mentioned you many times.”

Vex arched an eyebrow, looking like this had taken a screeching turn into levels of formality she hadn’t been prepared for, “Yes, that sounds like my brother.”

“Oh, all good things of course,” Percy added quickly, backpedalling desperately.

“Now that doesn’tsound like him,” Vex put on the smile she probably used on customers at her various jobs, “What exactly brought you here, Percy?”

“Well, when Vax told me he was sick, I wanted to come and just spend some time with him. To make sure he was okay, or at least had some companionship if he wasn’t.”

That was when Vex’s eyes travelled across the mess on the coffee table, seeing a mostly eaten, rapidly cooling bowl of chicken soup, a number of glasses of water that Vax was dutifully made to drink and a sensible number of boxes of cold medicine. Definitely not the props of a wild afternoon of hedonistic sex.

And Vex’s expression softened.

“Well…thank you, Percy,” she turned her face back to him, “It’s good to know he’s got someone looking out for him.”

Percy visibly relaxed, apparently deciding he wasn’t about to be punched in the teeth, “It seems to me he has two, Vex’ahlia.”

“Just Vex is fine…”

Vax butted in quickly, before things could get any weirder, “Thanks for stopping by, Percy. It was really sweet of you. I’ll text you, yeah?”

Percy seemed startled, a little hurt for a moment, like he was going to protest. Even Vex frowned slightly, tilting her head at her brother.

But eventually he nodded, trying to wipe the wounded look from his face like it had never been there, “Of course. I’m just a phone call away.”

So many times as Percy gathered his things, sweeping them back into the grocery bag he’d brought Vax an afternoon of comfort and security in, Vax wanted to blurt out a plea to stay, an offer to have dinner with them, an offer to stay forever, why the hell not?

And that was exactly the problem. That was the reason he kept his lips firmly together and said nothing as he led Percy to the door, as if he might have lost it since he last went through it.

Though he did give him a swift, sweet kiss on the lips, once he was certain Vex was busy making her after work cup of tea.

“I will text you, okay? I promise,” he murmured, eyes soft.

Percy’s eyes brightened and he nodded happily, “And send me pictures of Trinket?”

Vax snorted, “A little different from the pictures I normally send you but fine…”

At least he got to leave laughing, Vax thought as he refused to let himself linger in the doorway, ducking back into the warm light of the apartment.

“He seems nice,” Vex piped up, stirring her tea and stealing the best spot where Trinket would provide the most warmth, “Not that you need my approval or anything, I know that.”

Vax shrugged lazily, “The money’s good and he’s not a bad kisser.”

“Now that I definitely did not need to know.”

Vax smirked, heading for his bedroom, dragging his blankets behind him. He needed a good night’s sleep to shake this miserable cold. Though he paused, looking back at his sister. He could tell at a glance it hadn’t been a good day; it was in the way she sat, the way her hair had unravelled out of the impeccable bow he’d tied it in that morning, the circles under her eyes.

“You know, Percy said he’s happy to pay the full rent, it’s part of the arrangement-“

“No,” Vex said flatly, before he’d even finished, just as he’d known she would. But he’d had to try.

“Goodnight, Stubby. Love you.”

“I love you too,” Vex smiled softly over the rim of her mug. Trinket woofed in a timbre so deep it made the floor shake.

Vax smiled in return, looking back at the little scene of his life as he’d always known it, since he’d finally become happy at least. That’s when he’d started counting his life as actually being lived.

Though inside he was still shaking, still reeling silently from the one moment where Percy had been part of it. He’d fit in perfectly, talking with his sister, playing with their dog, leaning back on their battered old street couch, despite everything he’d worried about. And it only gave him something new to worry about.

Because Vax wanted it. He’d seen Percy has part of his world, the world he’d worked so hard to build, and he’d wanted him to stay. And the thought scared him so damn much he’d shoved him out the door, as if that would mean it had never happened. As if that would mean everything would go back to normal, where they were just two people with a perfectly reasonable, purely commercial arrangement.

As if that would stop him wanting something he’d never be able to have.

Vax gave a dry little sob as he yanked the duvet up over his head. Business as fucking usual.

[selenecrawford]

The Odd pair 1

Warnings: None at the moment I will provide them as the story progress.

Notes: Well new story I will work this one a bit slower than I did with the first one. Bear with me, and as always feedback, comments and likes are welcome. I hope you enjoy this story. Have fun ^^.

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Selene was on her way to her hometown to attend her father's funeral. It was a surreal sensation for her who spoke with him two days before by phone. Although Selene abandoned her home in a hurry 20 years ago, she still hold the place dear to her. Her job on one of the top PR business was taking all her time leaving just some hours for socialize wish she used it to sleep, walk around the city and evade dates. Her co workers and friends always joked about her being the crazy lonely lady until she get cats. But Selene wasn't interested on marriage or love. A long time ago she decided that was not for her.

The trip took longer than anticipated but it was her choice. The funeral was at two in the afternoon and she managed to arrived at noon at the house. Leaving her things on her old room, Selene managed to dress in a black suit dress with a pencil skirt and a black blouse. Her hair was made into a conservative bun, her makeup was subtle but perfectly hiding her scar on the nose. She decided to use some new brown contacts. She didn't noticed they were colored until she put them on. She left it on her travel bag for emergency cases. Since she forgot her glasses she decided to use them.

She arrived just in time to the funeral home. Most of the people was there waiting for the service to begin. Walking around no one dared to speak to her.

(I guess no one recognizes me) she thought.

Selene was no longer the tomboy she used to be. Always short hair, a few freckles on her face and the scar on her nose. She used to be a little chubby, wearing oversize shirts and jeans with a baseball cap. Compare to what she looks now Selene understood why no one thought she will be the same girl she was. Taking a look around she found many of her childhood friends around. Nobunaga Oda, Hideyoshi Tomoyoti, Ieyasu Tokegawa, Sasuke Sarutobi, Mitsuhide Akechi and Mitsurani Ishida. Missing were Masasmune Date and Kenshi Uesugi as well as the Takeda boys. A pang on her heart was felt at the memory of them specially Shingen the older brother.

“Selene is that you?” a hand on her shoulder let her know that Masamune recognized her.

Smiling softly she turned around but Masamune's smile died when he saw her eyes. “Sorry, Miss.”

“Masamune it's me, Selene. I just made a mistake buying contact lenses and got these instead.” Selene was happy to see her best childhood friend. Her Dragon as she used to call it.

Masamune's smile grew into a wide grin and carefully hug her lifting her a bit of the floor.

“So this is not a prank?”

“No, its me be still being clumsy as ever.” she giggle softly.

“It's good to see you, kitten.” his nickname for her.

Soon the others approached and started to hug her and saying their condolences. Everyone was amazed to see her so changed. The service was soon to be begin so everyone took their seats when Shingen, Yukimura and Kenshin arrived. Selene remained unaltered and waited for the minister to continue.

Although late Shingen arrived to the service. He was shocked to hear that his mentor and almost second father Tomas Crawford died. They always met for weekends. Fixing an old Shelby Mustang that Tomas wanted to fix for her daughter's birthday. Shingen could barely remember Selene. After playing that prank to her on high school. Selene left the town without a word to go to college on another country. Leaving everyone on the dark. Tomas was always talking about her but it wasn't until five years ago that she managed to contact him again.  Tomas will always go out of town to visit her but he never said what was her job or where. Shingen never thought of her no more than a little sister, but Tomas had always mentioned that he would loved to see them together. Selene had a crushed on him but he didn't felt the same way. He thought the prank was harmless until Masamune told him how much it had hurt her. He thought of asking Tomas her address to send a letter but never muster the courage to do it.  Shingen also was upset for the way she neglected her father all those years. But although he wanted to tell her one thing of two he never asked for her address. In the end he became a wealthy man on construction business. He never lacked a good woman to warm his bed but lately he had preferred to live alone. One night stands, became boring and when he tried to get into a serious relationship the women were not interested. At some point Shingen thought this was Karma for what he made Selene go thru. Perhaps he might be cursed who knows. On the corner of his left eye he found a beautiful women with brown eyes. She was wearing all black the standard mourning attire. While in others it might looked ordinary in her look elegant, even beautiful considering the occasion. Shingen keep looking at her to see if he could remember her. Nothing on her features seemed familiar except her eyes. For some reason her eyes although brown remind him of someone else.

“And now we have some words from Tomas daughter, Selene. Darling could you please pass to the front please?”

To his surprise the woman who he was eyeing was in fact Selene. When she passed next to him a hint of lavender was left in the air. She looked delicate, yet with a strong will on her face. Her features soften a bit when she took a look at the room. But once she made contact with him, her gaze turn into cold one. Shingen couldn't hid his surprised.

(She can't still be upset isn't she?) Shingen thought surprised at her coldness.

“Thank you everyone for being here. I know papa, will be happy to have everyone here. Specially you Shingen since you both were really close.” Her gaze pose on him and for some reason Shingen didn't like it. Feeling uncomfortable he moved on his chair into a more straighten position.

“My father, was a man of simple life. He loved my mother dearly until her final days. And now he is going to meet her. I loved him dearly, even when we were very different, I know I couldn't be the son he always wanted but I know God never left him alone. Thank you for coming here today.” said Selene in the end blinking rapidly to contain her tears. Still too shocked to react Shingen couldn't take her hand when she passed him by. For the rest of the service Selene made it impossible to get near her. She was always speaking with someone and he for someone unknown reason lost the confidence to speak to her.

In the end Selene stayed until the workers started covering the tomb. Throwing a piece of dirt on the hole, she turned around to smash in front of Shingen's chest. Losing a bit of balance Shingen hold her, before she took a step back.

“Sorry I thought I was the only one. Excuse me.”

“Selene, why your eyes are brown? Were you trying to hide from me?”

Selene turned around not believing what Shingen had said.

“Wait, what? Me hiding?” she laugh a bit before saying. “I'm' sorry but I don't have any motive to do that childish thing. I made the mistake of buying colored contacts when I was buying them online. They were on my carry on when I came here. Now I have to go there is several things to do. See you around Takeda.”

“Wait Selene?”

Selene left without turning back, her heart was threatening to go out her ribs cage fir the way it was pounding. A mix of longing and hate were taking hold of her. For one side she was happy to see him. The years were wonderful for him. He looked even more handsome than before. Still with a wonderful smile as always. And still part of her could not forgive the prank he played on her. It wasn't a bad one but it hurt her feelings. At that time she was such a drama queen and she felt it was the end of the world. Taking her memories back to the box where she buried them in her mind Selene went home.

Shingen saw Selene leaving him in a hurry. She was not the shy tomboy that had a crush on him. She was a full grown woman and quite beautiful. The only problem seemed that she hated him and now he wanted her. Letting a huge sigh out Shingen went home to see his family and get in touch with the rest of the gang.

@colivara @elievalentine @notsafefortum-blr @datemasamunemaiwaifu @unstoppablelinda @cailannuesugi @yeshasays @masa-little-kitten @kimi00twin @kouei116 @epicdragonlady @shouta-bakugou @jennacat84 @sengokuotaku82 @serenity-writes @pirateprincessyuki @mikamiw @xathia-89

[idonottlikethishellsite]

Fic: Fight and Flight

Yeza is not a fighter. Veth can be, if pressed.

Oh look. I inexplicably wrote another Veth/Yeza fic. This is a follow-up to The Softness of His Lips, but reading the first one is optional. You can read this one on AO3 or, if you hate proper formatting, under the Read More below.

If you enjoy my work, consider buying me a ko-fi or reblogging. Either are appreciated!

Veth didn’t know how to feel when her oldest brother died. She imagined Yeza didn’t know how to feel either. Not about her brother, but about finding her down at the riverside. Wineskin in one hand, crossbow in the other. It was midday or thereabouts. Time enough for people to notice she wasn’t doing her job.

They’d forgive her, maybe. Figure she was mourning. Yeza knew better. That was why he was here now.

Yeza had the sense to wait for her to loose the bolt she had loaded before he cleared his throat. It did not hit the plank of driftwood she had wedged in the fork of a young tree. It flew instead into the distance.

“What?” she snapped. Veth wasn’t angry at Yeza. She was angry in general. It was why she had come here. To be alone. She could hardly blame him for not realizing she wanted to get away from everyone. It was something she did often. Except getting away from everyone didn’t usually include him.

“Are you okay?” asked Yeza, regarding her carefully and from several feet away.

It was a stupid question and a loaded one. “Yes… No… I don’t know!” That was the problem. She raised the wineskin and took another drink. It was almost empty. She couldn’t remember how full it had been when she had walked out the front door.

“Are you sure you should be— Where did you get that?”

Veth wasn’t sure if Yeza was referring to the crossbow or the wine. She didn’t like the question either way. He’d asked her that a lot over the years. An innocent enough question on its own. There was another question attached to it though, one left unsaid but explicitly implied, ‘Did you steal it?’

It had been a long time since Veth had stolen anything. Anything that counted anyway. What had been a compulsion as a girl was easier to control now. A lot of things were easier to control or, at the very least, repress. Hide away.

But people had long memories. They still watched her in shops, eyed her collections for pieces they recognized. She liked to give Yeza things. Ingredients, books, anything he needed to work towards a life as a respected alchemist. “Where did you get it?” he’d ask, even though the answer was always the same. She had paid for it. With what money she made, after she had spent the rest on necessities. There wasn’t anything else she needed it for. Seeing him happy was enjoyable, having him doubt her less so.

The worst part was that the question was justified today. She had stolen the crossbow and the wine.

“I got it from home.” The same was true of either. The crossbow was her father’s, gone now for several years. Passed down to her oldest brother, dead now several days. The wine was her mother’s, drinking heavily since the loss of her husband, in a drunken stupor since her son was taken. Veth loaded another bolt.

“Put that down. Let’s just talk.”

The next bolt hit the driftwood. It splintered on impact. He was probably right. She took another drink.

“Veth.”

She was not a good person. She hadn’t been very sad when her brother died. She hadn’t been very sad about her father either. She hadn’t liked either of them very much. She didn’t argue with the people who said her brother had died a hero, but she didn’t think he had. He hadn’t been out hunting goblins when they killed him. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Being unlucky didn’t make you a hero.

He was dead, though. She should have felt bad about that. Should have felt something other than pity for herself. Home hadn’t been much before. It wasn’t anything now. It was cold and it was rancid and it was a place where she was not welcome. That life could wear away at a family, raze their house like a storm and leave her behind was not as it should have been. It was how her mother felt. It was how the town felt. No one had to tell Veth that. She understood. She didn’t want to be there in the wreckage either.

It was so easy for everyone else. All of it. Why couldn’t she just be someone different? Someone who did things worth being proud of. Someone who was sad when they ought to be. Someone who was ready to step up to the task of comforting their mother when things fell apart.

Someone who did not yell at Yeza when he, understandably, felt the need to take the crossbow from her.

Someone who did not finish the rest of the wine when he tried to take that as well.

Someone who did not get violently ill a scant few minutes later.

Veth wished she could say that vomiting into the bushes while Yeza held her hair back was the lowest point he had ever seen her at… But that probably wasn’t true.

Yeza stayed with her. He was a good person, if not a particularly sensible one. She laid there for a very long time afterward, curled up on her side with her head in his lap. He ran a hand up and down her arm. Up and down. Up and down.

“I don’t think there’s any wrong way to feel,” he said. And then later, “To be honest, I didn’t like him much either.”

Veth did not know where the crossbow went. She was certain Yeza had put it somewhere. (He was not a good liar.) But she did not know where where he had hidden it.

No one noticed. No one noticed much of anything back home. Not anymore.

That Yeza did not trust her with a crossbow was something Veth had mixed feelings about.

On the one hand, she wasn’t completely incompetent. She knew how to use it. She wasn’t even a terrible shot. Almost no one in Felderwin was. It was a farming town. Ranged weapons weren’t just commonplace, they were a necessity.

On the other hand, she had been shooting it drunk. She would contend that her accuracy had not been terrible while she was intoxicated, but that Yeza was still concerned seemed… fair.

The fuzzy numbness the alcohol had provided was tempting to return to. The acidic burn and remembered taste of it coming back up gave her pause. As did the idea of Yeza seeing her like that again.

But she was restless. Her heart raced even when she was still. Her skin was electric and raw.

“What about this?” Yeza asked the next day at the river, holding a small brown bottle. It was opaque, but she knew what was in it.

Yeza apprenticed at an apothecary. He had access to interesting things. Veth was quick to label herself a bad influence, but she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have experimented with the same things without her. With the right tools and knowhow it was easy to tweak pre-existing compounds and make them slightly more… fun.

They’d played around with substances before to mixed results. Not always good. Not much more elegant than vomiting into the bushes. It was different than drinking, though. It wasn’t a lonely experience. It was shared.

Veth opened her mouth and watched Yeza hold the dropper over her tongue. The taste was bitter, but fifteen minutes later that didn’t matter.

This mixture was one she knew. It was one they’d created together, making minor changes here and there. Her pulse slowed, her body felt lighter. She stretched out on her back and looked up at the clouds. She breathed.

Yeza’s hand found her forearm. His fingers skimmed her wrist. It felt good. If she wanted right now, she could direct all her attention toward it, feel only that. Getting lost was nice when you weren’t doing it alone.

They’d had sex like this. They’d had sex more than two unmarried people probably should. It wasn’t like there was a whole lot else to do in a small town. Work. Get a little high. Have sex. Seemed inevitable that you’d mix two or more on occasion.

She didn’t want to do that now, and Yeza didn’t have to be told. “It’ll be fine,” he said, his hand going up and down her arm. Up and down. Up and down. “You won’t be there forever.”

She wouldn’t have to stay at home, he meant. She wouldn’t have to because they would get married. They’d have their own home, their own family, their own life. It went unsaid, but it was implied.

Yeza hadn’t proposed to her. She wasn’t sure he would ever do it properly or that she needed him to. Marriage was a subject that had come up casually years ago, though Veth’s feelings toward the idea still ranged from giddy to a lingering doubt. A fear that her brothers were right, that he said things like that so that she would do the things girls with better prospects and more self-respect refused to do.

But they had been together since they were children, and now they were at an age where marriage wasn’t something so abstract and far off. And, really, she needed to give Yeza credit. If all this really was some sort of elaborate long con… Well, there were almost certainly easier ways to get laid.

And it wasn’t like Veth didn’t enjoy fooling around. She had never much cared for her body, but she had gained a strange kind of appreciation for it through Yeza’s hands and his mouth and the things he said that made them both blush. Yeza knew her in every way she imagined someone was capable of knowing a person outside of themselves. He knew her and he liked her and he kept liking her, and she loved him for it.

The first time she bit him she had been worried. She’d thought of her brother and the scar on his arm and the way her mother had scolded her, made her feel like an animal.

“N-no, that’s fine,” Yeza had stammered. And he asked her to do it again. And she did. And he buried his fingers in her hair.

There was a button in Veth’s mouth now. She had it between her teeth. It had come from Yeza’s vest, torn off somewhere between pushing him down and climbing on top. It was late and dark. Bales of hay were not the most comfortable surface to fool around on, but it was better than the floor of the barn.

“Oh,” said Yeza when they were finished and in the process of getting presentable enough to head back home. Veth could see him rolling a frayed thread between his fingers. “Do you have it?”

Veth took the button from between her teeth and let it fall into her palm.

“Can I have it back?”

“Why? Are you going to sew it back on right now?” She turned it in her fingers. “I’ll do it for you. Later.” She had a lot of buttons from Yeza. Her hands needed something to do when he held her sometimes. Threads could only stand so much twisting and plucking before they gave up. She had quite the collection of buttons she had promised to sew back on. Yeza never asked when.

When they were married. She would do it when they were married.

“Do you want to go again?” asked Veth.

“Ah…” began Yeza, in a tone that meant, ‘no.’ “We should get home.”

But Veth didn’t want to go home. The barn smelled damp and the hay was making the back of her neck itch, but she liked this better. “Can that wait… Just for a little while? Come on.”

Moonlight came in through the gap in the barn door and through the unpatched holes in roof. Veth could see the way Yeza tilted his head as he looked down, considering her. “Okay. We just… We can’t fall asleep.” He cast a furtive look around. “Also I need to, um— I need to, maybe, go around the side of the barn and, um—”

“Piss?”

“Yes.”

“Then go.” Veth reclined fully, stretching her arms above her head. “Just be careful.” If they got caught no good would come of it. People talked enough about them already.

Veth listened to Yeza’s footsteps retreat, listened to the door creak slightly as he left. She turned the button in her hand and thought of their wedding. Would they have a ceremony? She wanted to wear a dress, at least. Even if they didn’t. Something nice.

Her mother still had her wedding dress. Veth had seen it once, laid out carefully on her parents’ bed. It was white silk, flowers embroidered into its hem with golden thread. “Maybe you can wear it one day,” her mother had said, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Maybe.”

Veth would not ask to wear it and was certain that her mother would not offer. Not now.

Veth still wanted a dress. She thought of cutting a square from it on their wedding night and adding it to her collection. She thought of a day in the distant future where she spread it out on a bed and showed it to their children.

Children. There was a thought, thrilling and terrifying all at once. Newlyweds had children. That’s what you did in towns like Felderwin. You grew up and you helped with the farming and you settled down and you had children and they grew up and helped on the farms and the cycle continued. Veth would never force that kind of life on any child she raised. They would have a choice, but Veth wanted boring. She chose boring.

She wanted Yeza to have his apothecary. And she wanted small seasonal festivals. And she wanted children, hectic mornings, lazy afternoons. Felderwin didn’t have to like her. A family was enough.

Veth closed her fingers around the button in her hand and turned her head when she heard a sound. She expected Yeza but didn’t see his silhouette against the door. A shadow passing by, footsteps. This wasn’t a barn used for livestock. It had been once, but they had built a new one years back. Now it was used for storage, where they kept things to take to the crossroads and sell to people passing through. There were crates in the corner. Something moved there. Veth thought she knew what.

Slowly, Veth rolled onto her side. She felt hay against her cheek. She slowed her breathing. She wanted to run but tried to think.

And then the barn door opened.

Not all the way but enough. The thing at the crates turned toward the noise. A goblin. Veth knew that with certainty now, could see it. It didn’t see her, but it did see Yeza. It wouldn’t want him getting away, wouldn’t want him calling for help.

Yeza staggered backward. Or tried to. Goblins were quick. It grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him inside with one hand while the other went to its hip.

Veth was quick too. She was halfway across the barn before she realized she was moving. Surprise was the only advantage she had, and she didn’t use it very well. She could have thrown something, could have yelled, could have improvised some sort of weapon. Everyone born in Felderwin were taught as children what to do when they encountered a goblin. Never in her life had it been suggested to Veth that she tackle one.

There was a flash of steel in the moonlight as they hit the ground. A dagger. It was on the goblin’s belt. It was what it had been reaching for on its hip. Veth hooked a leg around the goblin’s waist, trying to keep its hand from it. An elbow connected with her middle knocking the air from her lungs.

They were about the same size, but the goblin was stronger. Veth grabbed for an ear and pulled. Hard. “Yeza!” She looked up in time to see him scramble through the barn door and out into the night.

Time slowed. Was he getting help? He would have to make it across the fields. It would take a while. Longer to wake someone up. Longer still to lead them back. Veth couldn’t have put a name to the emotion she was feeling in that moment, but there wasn’t time enough to dwell on that.

Nails bit through her skirt and into the flesh of her thigh. Her arm was wrenched away and down. Together they rolled toward the crates, colliding with them. Veth did her best to keep her arms and legs locked around the goblin. She was certain that her being behind it was the only thing keeping her from being overpowered.

A sharp pain again. Teeth this time. Her shoulder blade scraped across the slats of a crate. One of her legs bent wrong beneath her.

And then the goblin went very still. Movement caught Veth’s eye again. There was a shape in the door. Yeza. He had a crossbow, though he didn’t look like he quite knew what to do with it. His hands fumbled over the shaft of the bolt he was trying to load and he seemed hesitant to shoot. A good thing too. It wasn’t a sure thing who he would hit if he fired now.

The goblin stopped fighting Veth and jerked forward, making a concentrated effort to reach Yeza. She did her best to stay on top, heard the goblin shout something in a language she didn’t understand.

Veth was thrown to one side. Yeza strafed right, half-running, half-stumbling towards her. She tried to tell him to shoot, but either he didn’t understand her or he didn’t trust his own aim. He shoved the crossbow into her arms and—

“Veth?”

She heard Yeza breathe her name and felt his hand on her shoulder. “Hang on.” She put the crossbow to one side. It wasn’t loaded anymore.

“Veth?”

“Hang on!” She got up off her knees took a couple steps forward to where the goblin lay twitching. The bolt was in its neck. Angled to the left a little. Blood bubbled up around it as it tried to breathe.

Veth thought of the time she had gone with her brothers to the edge of the fields. Some of the older boys had been tasked with hauling off the bodies from a raiding party. They strung up the corpses as a warning. People said that helped after a big attack. Made the goblins think twice about trying again.

Veth thought of her oldest brother tripping her. She thought of falling onto one of the bodies. The smell. The teeth. How the waxy skin had looked close up.

That had been scary and so was this, but the fear felt distant. It felt removed from herself. The goblin had managed to draw its dagger at some point during the struggle. Veth saw it a few inches away from its outstretched hand. She didn’t have anything else to use, so she grabbed that. She did what she had to and then she dropped it.

Or started to. It occurred to her then that goblins didn’t usually venture into Felderwin alone. She gripped the hilt and straighted up. She reached back with her free hand and stretched her fingers out towards Yeza. “Come on,” she hissed and heard her voice shake. “Did you see any others?” she whispered when he reached her.

Yeza shook his head in the darkness. “I didn’t see any. But I didn’t— I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s okay,” said Veth, because she could hear the regret in his voice. She recognized it, knew he felt stupid, like he’d messed up.

Veth gave Yeza a gentle tug, keeping him close and behind her as she moved toward the barn door. The dagger she held out in front of herself. They were very quiet. For a long time they were very quiet. It would be hard to hide in the fields. If the goblin had friends they had probably retreated. Maybe they had heard the commotion and thought there was a bigger threat inside than a couple of panicking halflings. Veth had seen that happen before. She’d seen goblins scatter and run when things got bad. She’d seen them abandon each other.

Yeza hadn’t abandoned her.

“We should tell someone,” said Yeza.

“We should.” Veth took a step backward into the barn, nearly trampling Yeza’s feet in the process. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

Veth didn’t want to explain what they had been doing in the barn. “We’ll pound on the guardhouse door and yell, goblins. And we’ll… I dunno. We’ll duck into an alley or something.”

“What if no one hears us?”

“Then we’ll do it again.”

“Okay.” Yeza squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back.

Veth left the dagger. She took the crossbow. It was hers— or the one she had stolen, rather. Yeza admitted to hiding it. He’d stashed it in the old woodshed behind the barn. He apologized. Veth didn’t point out that if he hadn’t confiscated it from her one or both of them might be dead. She didn’t want to think about that.

They went the long way, off the main road and off the dirt footpaths. Veth stopped at Yeza’s house first. She left him outside his bedroom window. “Wait here,” she said, because she didn’t trust him to make a quick retreat when she knocked on the guardhouse door. He’d stumbled through the fields and stopped altogether once. She thought he’d puke, but he had kept it together.

Veth laid the crossbow at his feet and took his head between her hands. “Wait here,” she whispered. He looked like he might argue with her but stopped himself. He nodded.

There were no people on the streets. There rarely were at this hour. A lit lantern hung outside the guardhouse. There would be someone on duty inside. Veth charted a course in her head and ran, pausing just long enough to pound her fist several times on the door. “Goblins at the east barn!” And then she kept running, ducking around the dressmaker’s shop two doors down.

Veth pressed her back to the wall and waited until she heard voices, movement. Someone had heard. Good enough. She kept to the shadows and made her way back to Yeza.

He was where she had left him. He was sitting beneath his window, his head in his hands. He jumped when Veth crouched down beside him. “Sorry,” she said, toeing the crossbow over so she could sit close. “It’s done.” She motioned vaguely in the direction of the guardhouse. “If there are more they’ll find them.”

“They’ll find the one you killed?”

“I mean… probably.”

“You killed it.”

“Yeah.” But there was something to the way he had said “it” that felt heavy. Veth had killed things before. Livestock mostly. Predators when they got too close to farmland. A goblin was a kind of predator. What she had done didn’t feel like a heavy thing.

“I’ve never been that close to one. One that was alive, I mean.”

“Me neither.”

“Are you all right?” asked Yeza. Veth nodded, but he took her arm anyway, found where the goblin had bitten her. His hands were shaking. “We should wash that— And disinfect it. I’m sure I have something inside that—”

“It can wait a minute,” Veth interrupted. She didn’t think either of them were up to the task of sneaking through his house to retrieve medical supplies unnoticed. Not right now. All Veth wanted to do right now was sit.

Yeza didn’t argue. He let go of her arm. “You were really… You were really brave.”

The words moved through Veth and into the night. It didn’t feel like they were meant for her. She had been terrified. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.” Yeza rubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes and looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah. I guess. I— I don’t— I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“You were very smart back there. You were thinking a lot clearer than I was.” Veth said it because she thought he needed to hear it and because it was true.

Yeza sniffed and wiped an arm across his eyes this time. “I should have…” He trailed off. He didn’t know what he should have done, just that he should have. Veth knew that feeling. She’d lost count of the things she should have done during her life.

“We’re all right,” said Veth, not because she knew that was true but because it was what they both needed to hear. “But I should definitely teach you how to use a crossbow.”

Yeza laughed, a slightly miserable sound but a laugh all the same. Veth pulled him close and he leaned into her, resting his forehead against his shoulder. He was still scared, still breathing fast. Veth knew that feeling too, feeling jumpy and wired long after a thing had happened. “We’re all right,” she said again and kissed the top of his head. And they were. At least for now.

[issantashikibaindr3orndrv3yet]

Danganronpa Kirigiri Sou translation-Part 11

<- Part 10 | Masterpost | Part 12->

A transcript of part 11 of juicedup14 playthrough/translation of Kirigiri Sou, which you can watch here.

Again thanks to @drmedicsgamesurgery​ for helping me work on the transcript.

The notes says it’s taken from ‘Police evidence’ material.

Maybe when she was part of a case, the police needed DNA to be presented as evidence. Maybe it was sold to the black market.

Ten years ago, she would be a small child by then. Though, this list is about those who are exceptional.

Hm……?

Wait.

Thought Kirigiri Kyouko’s name is here…...then her DNA is being used?

With astonishment, I look in front of me and stare at Kyouka. No matter how I look at her, she just like Kirigiri.

Could it be……

“What’s with the…...scared face?”

Kyouka asks me while staring at my face.

I don’t know what to say, I remember the note she gave me, and change the subject.

“Oh by the way, the memo you gave me……”

“Help me.”

Kyouka stands up from her chair, and grabs my hand, and grabs her hands around mine, looking up at me. Her hands were surprisingly cold.

“I…...what do I do?”

“Come here.”

Kyouka goes inside the sterile glass room. And being pulled by her hand, and go inside.

Right in front of me, is a twisted plant animal.

“I want to introduce you to everyone.”

Kyouka said.

“Now, everyone-it’s today dinner.”

“Huh?”

There wasn’t even time to fight.

Before I could notice, twisted arms are wrapped around me, and restrict me. So strong that you wouldn’t think it’s a plant. No matter what I do I can’t get it off.

These…...are moving!?

“What do you mean dinner?”

“Whatever lives, need nutrition.”

“Nutrition…...you don’t mean……”

“But this is good, you’re kind. It would really help me if you become our nutrition. Because-I wouldn’t have to kill you.”

Oh…...so that’s how it is.

This is the truth about the ‘man eating mansion’.

I finally see.

There were clothes being burnt in the fireplace. Those people, probably met the same fate. When I think that, I finally understand the meaning of ‘Help me’ in the fireplace.

That wasn’t a victim asking for help.

That was Kyouka luring victims.

It was the same thing.

How could this happen……

The twisted arms start tightening in my neck. And my consciousness fades away.

All I can see, is Kyouka’s happy face.

I can see that smile, than is it okay if I can just die……

Everything becomes white, then I feel an explosion hit me.

Is this the moment of death-

Huh?

Kyouka’s holding her head and looking down.

But everything’s going back to normal. And I can breathe. And the twisted arms are coming off.

The glass was broken, and a nearby chair is rolling. Outside the flowerbed-Kirigiri Kyouko’s standing there.

“That was a close one.”

Kirigiri holds her hand out, and pulls me from the flowerbed.

“It’s a good thing that I came to check up on you. Can you speak?”

“Ah……sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I was about to become dinner.”

“Ah.”

She says unsurprised. Seems she’s grasped the situation, without being surprised.

((The same text as before repeats until juicedup14 once again clears the plant girl ending.))

((juicedup14 goes back to the option where Kohei thinks to himself kirigiri can go through the roses because of her gloves, however now a new option appears which he chooses))

C. I go back into the hall, in order to search for Kirigiri.

I go back into the hall, in order to search for Kirigiri.

There’s a door in the middle of the hallway that’s slightly open. Kirigiri’s probably there.

I go inside the door.

And it’s like a guest room. But there are slight pink colored curtains over the windows. There’s a difference where the mirror is placed and where the desk is. There’s makeup in the dresser, and there’s cute writing utensils.

I can’t see Kirigiri anywhere in here. I go to see if she’s drying her hair. I look inside the shower room, she’s not there. But, I see that there’s long hairs on the sink.

Kirigiri’s here?

Or…...the one who lives here?

I get out of the shower room, and I look inside the desk. I touch the desk with my finger. And it’s not dusty.

And it looks like the writing utensils were being used.

I look inside of the door. It’s empty.

But under the desk, on one side, are rolled up pieces of paper.

When I open it up, looks like part of a diary.

“August 10th

I couldn’t go outside for the whole day. They say the air is bad like a poison, for someone as weak as me.

When I awoke tonight, I could hear banging sounds. I was surprised and I asked Father’s friend, he said that those are fireworks. When I looked outside, over the far away city, are round lights of various colors. I want to see them up close someday.”

“August 16th

My favorite clothes I ordered didn’t come in. It seems that I grow faster than other people. Why do I have such an inconvenient body?”

“August 19th

I was talking to the little people in the glass, and my Father’s friend got angry. Because they’re weak to bacteria, that I shouldn’t get close to them. Am I bacteria?”

“August 20th

Now that I don’t have anyone to talk to, I’m lonely.”

“August 21st

When I read the book that Father lent me, there’s a big country in the outside, and everyone’s living happily. If I go there, will I be able to make a lot of friends?”

“August 22nd

I want to see the outside. But, I need more-”

That’s where the page cuts off.

See if there’s anymore, but there isn’t. The girl that I saw before write this? Seems like they have been thrown away. Did she try to get rid of them?

It says that she’s been living here in this very mansion. But there are some unlegible. ‘Little people in the glass’, what is that?

What’s bothering me is the time of when she tried to get rid of them. Is just trying to get rid of the past, or……

I put the pieces of diary in my pocket, and leave the room.

I wasn’t able to find Kirigiri.

Was she really able to go past the roses by herself? I feel like she could.

((skipped the text up to when he would throw the insecticide at Kyouka, however he gets a choice now))

A. I throw the small glass at Kyouka.

B. I remember the diary.

juicedup14 chooses B

I remember the diary.

The girl who wrote this diary, might still be deep in her heart.

A sad girl who was brought into this world incomplete-

“Kyouka! Can you hear me!?”

I scream as much as I can.

In order to reach her heart.

What this girl wants who’s been living here alone, what she wants all along is……

“Let’s get out of this mansion together!”

Kyouka who’s been looking down, surprisingly looks up.

“Let’s go look at fireworks together. We can buy new clothes for you in the city. And, and then…...Anyways let’s take a step outside this mansion, and finally go out. That’s what you wanted all along!”

“It’s impossible!”

Kyouka screamed.

“It can’t happen anymore! I’ve already…...killed so many people. That…...proves that I’m incomplete. I truly can’t be human……”

“That’s wrong.”

From calling out of the roots, Kirigiri said. All of a sudden the plant attacks became weakened.

“Humans all make mistakes…...I’ve seen many of those types of people. But, those who can take the step to do it all over again, maybe that proves that you’re human.”

“Let’s go together, Kyouka.”

I stretch out my hand towards Kyouka.

For a long time, Kyouka hesitated and look down. After a while, she takes a step towards me.

And shows a human-like smile. That smile was also, if she gave up something-

“Thank you…...for being so kind to me.”

As she says that, she runs into the reception room. Opens the door, and runs inside.

“Kyouka!”

I rush towards her and chase after her.

But it’s locked.

“What is this all of a sudden!? Hey, Kyouka!”

“Goodbye.”

I know that’s what I heard from the other side of the door.

Afterwards, black smoke billows out from the gaps.

“This is bad! She’s lighting the fire in the fireplace.”

“Are you going to die!?”

I bang on the door, and yell her name many times. But there’s no response.

“Let’s go, this will be dangerous for us.”

Kirigiri points at a window. It’s broken, from the plant. We both jump out of the window.

As we turn back once in a while, we run towards the gate.

And even with the rain, the mansion becomes engulfed in flames. It only took a while for the whole place to be covered in flames.

Is this-the end for mansion where people played god?

“Look!”

Kirigiri points towards the mansion.

From the black smoke, something crawls out.

It’s the twisted plants from the sterile room. They all form working together, carrying something.

“It’s Kyouka!”

Me and Kirigiri run towards them.

They slowly lower Kyouka to the ground. There are parts that are burnt in the twisted plants, and there are some that can’t even move anymore.

“Kyouka! Wake up!”

I slap her wet cheek.

It doesn’t look like she has any wounds, but she’s even colder than the rain. We look at her for a while-but she would not open her eyes.

She died.

The twisted plants around her, let out a child’s cry, as they all die one after another. Could it be from the fire or the outside air, I don’t know.

Me and Kirigiri made a grave for Kyouka and the twisted plants. We buried and mourned them.

“It’s almost like I’m burying my own self.”

The whole time she was speechless, that’s the only thing she said the whole time.

Kyouka really was a plant girl that was made from Kirigiri’s DNA.

After we were done mourning, from the east a dim light, lights up the sky. It’s daybreak. Me and Kirigiri leave that place, and walk to where there was a signal, and call for help.

After half a year-

I return to my daily life, and I couldn’t remember what happened. It’s almost like, as if it was all a dream.

I haven’t met Kirigiri since then. I’ve tried many different ways to search for her. Almost like she doesn’t exist or as if she was taken away, there’s no information from anyone.

After a while, I stopped thinking about her. It’s not like I would get a chance to see her again. Even if I did, she’ll just look at me with those cold eyes.

One day, when I was going back to where I grew up, I took my car into the mountains. And then, all of a sudden I remember that day, and then I turned the wheel towards the dark forest.

And I only used my own guts to lead me to the forest.

I hop out of  my car, and I look around.

And then I see a gate that looks familiar to me.

Here.

I go into the gate, and go inside.

Where there was a mansion, one great tree is growing. That has to be the tree that was growing inside the entrance hall.

And just right in front of that tree, white young flowers blooming around a circle, as if gathering around there. That’s just the place where we buried Kyouka.

And in the center, I see a white one piece wearing, long haired girl, standing there.

Her-!

I tried to call for her, but I stop.

It may have just been my imagination, I just mistook a large, white flower for her.

That has to be it.

Because that’s where one big flower is growing.

The Plant Girl Route TRUE End: Cleared

[historioddity]

Fandoms:      

幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files

Rated: T; no archive warnings apply

Characters: Hiei, Yukina, Kurama, Kazuma Kuwabara, Yusuke Urameshi

Notable Tags: Modern, no demons AU, inspired by Facebook, possibly reads like crack, Yukina is a good sister, Hiei and Yukina have an actual sibling relationship, I apparently can’t write something where someone doesn’t swear

Summary: “My brother does not know I’m doing this and would walk right of here and not talk to me for a year if he did.”

Questionable decisions aside, Yukina really only wants to help her brother (and to stop the endless moaning of the last two months). She's a good sister, she swears. She's just not sure if she's out to get her brother a date, chew Kurama out, or embarrass Hiei to death.

--

I was fixing up some tags and apparently I never posted this here? Its nearly a year old now, but I’ll be damned if its not here.

Can be read here or on Ao3!

She hesitates over the post button on her phone, but eventually hits it anyways. She stares as Facebook uploads the pictures of the two piece swim suit and her own sell ad, waffling between leaving it up or deleting it as soon as the post was live. Though Botan had suggested it, Yukina wasn’t so sure of the idea. The teal haired young woman flops down on her couch with a swirl of her blue stripped skirt.

 The two piece swimsuit was certainly a color she likes (a few varying shades of blue she thought had a fantastic ocean look to it), but she had never meant to buy it. It was smaller than she was comfortable with, but she hadn’t been able to get it back on the rack after determining that.

 (The truth of the matter was she, Keiko, and Botan didn’t know what exact set of whirlwind events had caused them all to walk out with items they hadn’t intended to buy – what they did know was they’d left to police coming in and the store had been on the news that night for both fire damage and busted windows. They hadn’t been back.)

 But facts are that she has the swimsuit, she’d paid for it, and the receipt had been long gone by the time Yukina had worked up the nerve to return the item. And Shizuru had already helped her track down a more appealing swimsuit just a couple days later in time for the beach trip, so it wasn’t as if going back to the shop for store credit or exchange had been appealing either.

 So here she is, attempting to sell the small two piece blue swimsuit on a Facebook buying and selling page – the one she thought Botan had suggested but now she isn’t quite so sure.

 “I should have just donated it…..” she mumbles into a throw pillow after stuffing her phone between the cushions, unable to look at it any longer. It wasn’t as if the suit had ever been worn, somewhere would have taken it, right? Her phone buzzes once but she ignores it. It buzzes a second time, but she misses it entirely as her front door is slammed open.

 If she was a betting woman, she would have place her money on their father being where her brother had gotten this particular set of melodramatics from.

 Yukina can hear him muttering and cursing as he fights to kick off his shoes in her entry way. She gets no greeting as he shuffles across her apartment to flop half over the back of her couch with a groan and a whine. Despite her suggestions, she can see Hiei had opted to roll up his shirt sleeves but at least he had attempted to do so nicely. She digs her phone back up from the couch cushions and snaps a picture of the spectacular pout on his face. The shutter noise her phone insists on making is enough to force him out of his self-imposed pity party to stick his tongue out at her. Hiei hauls himself off the back of the couch with another groan and he begins to shuffle back towards her bedroom.

 “Oh I’m sure Kazuma couldn’t have been that bad!” Yukina calls behind him, busy moving the photo around in her phone files to group it with all the rest of her brother’s pictures that the world is certainly not ready to see. The world would not survive knowing how much of a dork he could be when left with the right people (which is basically just her – being a twin has perks. She can see right through his facades so Hiei doesn’t really try with her).

 When she doesn’t get a retort about her boyfriend, she knows it was something else. She ignores the two notifications for her Facebook post in favor of checking on her twin.

 “Oh no…” She’s so glad that a blanket burrito in the corner of the bed had become the new hiding place. (Once upon a time it had been a weird fort of a blanket and four pillows under a bed where she was only other one who could squeeze in there to reach him – they had both grown out of that embarrassingly late.)

 “Are you telling me he managed to ignore you again?” Yukina would have been embarrassed to admit it came out as a shriek if wasn’t for the whine that left the blankets taking up the corner of her bed. Her brother is miserable.

 “But how?” The teal haired woman moves to her closet even as she asks the question. “And get out of that blanket – those are the only nice clothes you have!” She begins to look around for something of Hiei’s that had been left behind on a previous night of frustration and planning. She has found a shirt by the time Hiei had gotten his head out of the blanket burrito she was sure he had almost literally rolled himself into. She tosses the dark shirt on to his newly uncovered head and digs around for literally anything else that can fit him.

 “I don’t know!” Hiei is making an embarrassing habit of whining his way through these almost daily conversations. Turning back with a pair of sweatpants she is almost certain are Hiei’s (she doesn’t own much grey), Yukina catches sight of his miserable expression. Hiei had disentangled enough from the blankets to remove the t-shirt she had thrown him but is idly fidgeting with the buttons on his dress shirt with a mournful expression rather than saving the only button down he owns from wrinkly extinction.

 “I was serious, change clothes before we have to replace half of the only suit you own.” Yukina is kind enough to actually hand him the sweatpants this time. But looking at his face causes her to pause. She can count the number of times Hiei has cried on one hand, but the frustration has clearly moved to a whole new level because, try as he might, he has to actually bite his lip and keep his glossy eyes impossibly wide to keep it all contained.

 Yukina sits on her bed with a sigh. She has a few choice words for the object of her brother’s affections if he’s this close to frustration tears.

 “I have never seen you this infatuated with someone,” she says instead. Hiei snorts, but its watery. He finally moves to actually take off his blue button down and pull the burgundy t-shirt over his head.

 “Me neither,” he mutters in annoyance when his head pops back out. Yukina’s phone buzzes again in her hands. She busies herself with it to let her brother change. Among the replies is an interested woman who wants to know the size of the suit – Yukina double checks and sure enough she did leave the information in the ad. She gives a reply anyways. Hiei has wriggled from his blanket prison, changed to the sweatpants, and carefully laid out his dress pants in the time it takes for her to answer. Yukina watches him for a moment.

 “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask him on a date instead of attempting to seduce him – or whatever you seem to be aiming for?” she gives her brother a pointed look, “He sees you half naked three times a week already.” Hiei’s face goes vaguely scarlet and in one fluid movement he moves the blanket back over himself.

 “I’m not seducing him,” she can hear him mumble.

 “Not successfully.” He lifts the blanket enough to sort of pout-glare at her. Yukina can’t help giggling. She snaps another photo. It’s a blurred mess of the blanket coming back up to hide Hiei from any more of her incriminating shots.

 “But seriously, Hiei,” she starts, deleting her unsuccessful picture, “just ask Kurama out on a date. Kazuma couldn’t speak more highly of him; he’s not going to react badly. It has to be more productive than trying every outfit combination you have in your closet.”

 (Literally every combination – his most flattering shirts, his tightest pants; from the colors that bring out his eyes to Yukina’s best attempts to bring out a groomed and sophisticated look on a man that some days looked like he never brushed his hair. Anything to convey to Kurama that, while short, Hiei was strong, capable, and hopelessly wanting. It would have been embarrassing if she hadn’t put him through the same ordeal the day before her first date with Kazuma. They had always played petty revenge tit for tat after all.)

 Hiei mumbles something under the blanket. She gives him a moment before prodding.

 “Loud enough for people to hear?” She grimaces, realizing she sounds like their mother. Her brother seems to chuckle for a moment. She clears her throat.

 “Please?” She expects exaggerated melodramatics – partially because her brother has chosen that route for dealing with the extended frustration but also because she just mom’d him by accident. Instead, he speaks just loudly enough for her to hear him.

 “I did…” She pulls the blanket back enough to see his face – cherry red from embarrassment but still absolutely miserable. There are so many things she wants to say, to ask, but Yukina bites her tongue instead and waits for him. Lifelong history says it’s the better choice for dealing with her brother anyways.

 Finally he rubs at his face with a sigh.

 “A couple months ago I tried to ask him to that botanical garden because I know he loves plants and there was no way he’d already be going with Yusuke or Kuwabara. Maybe someone else, but the season was just starting, Yukina, so I didn’t think it would be a big chance.” Yukina nods along encouragingly. Gardening is not her brother’s first choice of outdoor activity, he’d clearly thought more about Kurama in the location choice than himself.

 “I knew exactly what was going to be in bloom, what other plants would be there – they were going to have an exhibit of tropical plants in the special greenhouse even – I checked for restaurants nearby so maybe we could get food if he was actually willing to spend more time with me after I floundered the whole god damn morning away in a botanical garden of all places and –,” Hiei lets go a great big sigh. “And I went to meet up with him and Yusuke and Kuwabara were there and we’d apparently ‘changed our minds’ and were going to the amusement park a train ride away.” He lifts his hands from his face.

 “I don’t know what the hell I did, Yukina,” the confusion is evident on his face. “I asked him on a date. Somehow it became a group outing and nobody else thought it was weird….” He looks at her and it’s a face she’s seen so many times in their childhood – absolute confusion. Her phone buzzes annoyingly in her hands and without hesitation she stuffs it under one of her pillows and motions for her brother to move over. It’s only after they are securely hidden under her fuzzy blanket that she says anything.

 “You are just so unlucky with people…. How does that even happen?” Well, she knows one way it happens, but it’s not one she would have expected out of Kazuma’s friends. Her brother groans and stuffs his face into her shoulder. It’s a common occurrence for her brother to have a social miscommunication with another person but this probably took the cake in the weird department. (And normally it was because he was something of a sarcastic asshole.)

 “Well, I know you’re perfectly capable of asking people do things with you without inviting other people into it, so even if you didn’t call it a date there’s still no reason for it to have become that.” She begins to card her fingers through his dark hair. She hums.

 “I could have a word with Kazuma….” Hiei groans into her shoulder again. “I know that’s not the answer you want, but he’d probably set up a fix-it date if I asked….” She feels her twin shake his head.

 “I don’t want a ‘fix-it’ date – especially one set up by Kuwabara,” Hiei speaks without lifting his head. Then he sighs heavily. “I don’t know what I want. All I’ve figured out is Kurama is fucking blind and Yusuke can’t run out of jokes.”

 (This part she knows, because Kazuma tells her the better ones – half the time she can’t tell if Yusuke is trying to flatter or embarrass Hiei. She even bets that one of the many buzzes from her phone since her brother arrived is whatever decent “joke” Yusuke made that day about the dress clothes.)

 Yukina continues to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s clear that Hiei had decided against asking for a second (replacement?) date until he could gauge interest but the plan has led to nothing but moping. Her twin is, normally, perfectly capable of fixing things himself (for better or worse, though often it seems to be worse) so she decides against offering more suggestions until this moping spell is over. Probably whenever he gets hungry or her own stomach rumbles loud enough for him to notice. Additionally, it’s stuffy under the blanket but she doubts he, the walking space heater he is, will notice before his stomach kicks in instead. In a way, she’s perfectly content to sit there with him – stuffy as it is – especially now that she feels caught up on entire story.

 However, it’s the resulting silence that lets her know that her phone is still happily pulling in notifications, causing it to vibrate under the pillows. She ignores it and settles down to her brother’s pillow as long as he decides he wants one. It’s nice – they don’t get to do this much anymore. A buzz here or there should be easy enough to ignore, Yukina decides.

 She dozes off at some point, waking only when there is a sudden loss of heat. Bleary red eyes finally focus on her brother who is pulling her phone from under her pillows. Hiei lays back down and pulls the blanket back around them, looking no more awake than Yukina feels. Finally, he hands her the phone.

 “It won’t stop buzzing,” he complains before curling back up at her side. Yukina pops up her screen and enters her passcode. She’s promptly greeted by a dozen Facebook notifications, two texts from Kazuma over LINE (one she notes is a sticker and she wonders what funny cat she’ll be greeted with today) and oddly enough several Facebook messages from a new contact. It’s clearly the messages that had woken her brother as their time stamps are the newest.

 Their content however causes her to make a high, squeaky noise in the back of her throat and her twin is immediately awake and grabbing for her phone. Hiei makes a noise of disgust as he reads down the line.

 “Ew, creepy fuck,” Hiei pulls a face. Without asking, he immediately blocks the sender.

“Hey!” she grouses at him more to reestablish that it’s her phone and account than over any actual objection over blocking the man.

 “Oh come on,” Hiei sneers at the screen, still going through the messages. “First off, who’s bright idea was it to have you list that swimsuit on Facebook? Second, who the hell asks for pictures, especially like that? Asking for a model doesn’t exactly hide any intent, idiot.” Hiei scoffs the last bit under his breath.

 (Yukina decides against answering the first question for Botan’s safety.)

 “You already answered the second question,” she reminds him. “I thought I had the settings so I couldn’t get random messages….” Hiei is already looking through her privacy settings for just that. She snatches her phone back before he can go into any kind of overprotective mode. The teal haired woman gives Hiei a hard look she hopes will keep him from her phone in the future, makes mental note to change up her passcode, and sets about answering the other Facebook notifications – which thankfully do not include anyone else being creepy. Hiei sticks his tongue out at her and goes to dig his own phone out of his dress pants.

 She’s in the middle of answering Kazuma’s messages, giggling over the dark cat rocking out on a guitar her boyfriend had found to express his excitement over a new Megallica CD, when her twin speaks up again.

 “You know,” he drawls without looking up from his phone, “We could fuck with him.” Yukina eyes her brother warily. Hiei puts his phone down and rests his head in his hands with a grin that never leads to anything good. “He said he wanted a model, he didn’t say it had to be you.”

 (Someday Yukina will learn to turn down her brother’s suggestions – today is not that day.)

 --

 Yukina had sent her brother home before the trains stopped operating – Hiei had gotten into a far better mood after their warning prank to her creepy message guy. A decent dinner had put him in even better spirits and she had even weedled a promise to reassess the Kurama situation with a clearer head the next day. She had been sure it was bright, promising chance to end all his moping.

 Yusuke had apparently destroyed it with a single group LINE message for coffee and some extra workouts. Kazuma had promptly invited her along to the café to give them a chance to see each other before he was off for another day of training for whatever martial arts tournament Yusuke had dragged the four of them into this time. Hiei didn’t even send her a flurry of messages for advice so she arrived to the coffee shop feeling optimistic.

 In retrospect, no messages from her brother should have been a warning.

 “Did you even look in a mirror before you left?” Yukina asks as she digs out a hairbrush from her purse. She hopes her tone conveys the worry she has over him instead of sounding like she cares more about his appearance in public. Most of his wardrobe can mix and match and she always has a ready hair brush to wrangle her own hair back into its ponytail, so there’s little that can truly go wrong. But today he looks like he rolled out of bed, fell into his closet, and walked out the door. Hiei takes the brush from her and pulls it through his hair without an argument.

 “What happened?” Yukina touches his elbow, worrying about his sudden disheartened look. Hiei hands her his phone along with the hair brush. He unlocks the pattern for her and she’s greeted to a LINE message screen – one between her brother and Kurama. The last two messages are from the red head. One is a happy fox sticker. The other reads “You’re a good friend Hiei.”

 (Both she realizes are from late last night – before Yusuke had sent the morning message calling the group together for coffee, for extra training. Before the rest day had been cancelled forcing him into awkward close quarters with Kurama.)

 “Got my answer, that’s all,” her twin finally says. Yukina lets him take his phone back. Hiei shrugs and gestures to the coffee shop, where the others are waiting.

“I’m fine, we should go in.”

 She watches as her brother plasters his usual façade into place and then holds the door open for her. She squeezes his hand before she enters.

 “Yukina!” Kazuma greets her with his usual enthusiasm and bright smile. Yusuke’s on the phone in line and he gives her a quick wave as she and her brother move towards them.

 “Oh be quiet, you’re damn loud,” Hiei grouses with half his usual venom at her boyfriend. It throws both men in line off for a moment, but then Kazuma answers with his usual retort and before they even manage to stand beside their friends, Hiei’s attitude is back on point much to the disappointment of the baristas (who, Yukina is positive, are rather tired of dealing with her brother and boyfriend). Yukina spots Kurama at a booth, already sitting with his own drink. The red head shakes his head at the scene and then gives her a smile and wave in greeting.

 She doesn’t realize she’s staring until Hiei jostles her to answer Kazuma. Her twin eyes her with concern so she gives him a small smile before focusing on her taller boyfriend.

 “You okay?” Kazuma asks her. All three of them are watching her and she’s sure Kurama is too.

 “I’m fine! I was trying to remember if I got all my papers sorted the other day at work and didn’t realize I was staring off.” It’s a simple lie and it rolls of her tongue easily. Working at a bird sanctuary, where no one in the group but her brother had a full idea of what she does, comes in handy at times. (Even handier is that her brother would not call her on her lie – certainly not today.)

 “I’m sure you did!” Kazuma says with confidence and it makes Yukina smile. He knows she can worry about work a little too much sometimes and his reassurances are often quite welcome – today they are especially welcome if they bolster her fib. “What would you like today? I can buy!”

 She’s momentarily startled, because as much as Kazuma would love to pay for everything on their outings and meet ups, normally they split the bills – especially something as simple as coffee. Yukina wonders if she looks as off as her brother for some reason. She sees Kurama move out of the corner of her eye and makes a split second decision.

 “That would be great Kazuma, thank you!” Hiei gives her another look, but gets taken away by Yusuke to move up in line. She can hear the taller man working conspiratorially with Hiei to find out Kurama’s mystery drink order even as she gives her own to Kazuma.

 (He looks so happy to buy her coffee she almost wonders if she should let him do it more often. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to get dragged into Yusuke’s never ending quest to figure out Kurama’s order again.)

 She lets Kazuma move up the line to order and pulls out her phone. As she walks to sit with Kurama at the booth, she unhesitatingly sends three of the photos from the prank the night before. She watches Kurama check his buzzing phone and nearly spit out his drink as she sits down.

 (After last night, she now knows her brother could probably pull off a speedo if he wanted to. It’s more than she ever wanted to know, but it’s true. Apparently Kurama is more appreciative than she is of this information. Or so she wants to believe with the red that’s come to his face.)

 Kurama coughs a little before he manages to say anything to her. Yukina fixes the wrinkles in her long, dark skirt and simply fixes Kurama with a far too innocent look, phone back in her hand.

 “Yu-yukina what-?” She quickly supplements the pictures of her brother in the skimpy two piece suit with one of him making faces at her through a window. Then another of one of the many outfits she had helped him pick out. One of him in the full suit before they both remembered that as much as Kurama clearly enjoyed dressing nicely (at least, sometimes, his jacket is bright orange today), he would stand out way too much. Another of her brother doing the splits, a random ability of his she’s envied since childhood and she knows he doesn’t show off. Yukina tops it off with a short video clip of her brother dancing to the radio in her apartment – one she swore to him she deleted. She celebrates a victory that Kurama has his phone set to stay lit far longer than any of the rest.

 Kurama’s face has gotten redder and redder with every picture and he grips his drink cup tightly at the still for the video – her brother half way through some kind of dance move in his boxers and a too big t-shirt he’d never leave the house in.

 “Yukina,” he says in a strangled, embarrassed tone.

 “My brother does not know I’m doing this and would walk right of here and not talk to me for a year if he did.”

 “Then why are you…?” Yukina almost regrets her rash decision with how confused Kurama looks. Yukina looks at her phone and sends the picture of her brother’s pouting face from the night before. She stares the red head down as his phone buzzes and simply waits. If there’s a weak point to Kurama, it’s that his curiosity is often too strong – he doesn’t manage to leave the text alone. He looks at the picture and then back at her, still trying to catch up.

 “Him, last night, after he spent a whole bunch of time with me picking an outfit and got to listen to Yusuke crack jokes instead of getting any kind of compliment from you.” She starts to send more pictures of more outfits – outfits she knows Kurama will recognize if he eyes work at all.

 “The same thing that’s been happening for, like, two months now.” She sends him pictures of almost every outfit they ever considered – some are even from Hiei himself, taken in a mirror to get her opinion. She doesn’t look at Kurama until his phone stops vibrating in his hands.

 When Yukina looks back up, it’s to Kurama’s still confused face. She starts to get angry at that when it hits her. She is angry on her brother’s behalf, of this she is certain. But she has no idea what she’s trying to accomplish by doing this. In fact, the only thing she knows she has accomplished is sending personal photos of her brother to a man who’s only interested in a friendship and possibly shaking the trust between two people about to partake in some kind of crazy fighting tournament together. Not talking to her for a year? Yukina will be lucky if her brother doesn’t die of embarrassment. She flushes and tries to find something to say. (And they say her brother is the one who rushes through things…)

 She looks down at her phone. There’s a preview for a picture of her brother, double peace signs and his tongue stuck out in the doorway of his apartment – probably the day he’d moved in and moved from her previous phone. She sends it and Kurama checks it despite himself.

 “I know he can be a good friend, Kurama. But couldn’t you have said that when he asked you out?” It’s all she can think to say. It’s probably all she actually wants to know. Just so she can pick her brother back up and dust him off – be whatever support he’ll accept.

 Understanding blooms across Kurama’s face.

 “The garden, I-”

 “Yes the garden, the date you said yes to!”

 “No, Yukina, you don’t understand, we-” Yukina cuts him off again.

 “Of course I don’t understand!” She sets her phone down roughly and it makes a louder noise than expected. She pushes on anyways, feeling her anger flare on Hiei’s behalf again. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have just turned him down, or tried to change it then if you didn’t want to go on date with him. Why would you change it without telling him? Why would you do that?”

 “Yukina, it’s not like that!”

 “What else can it be?!” She throws her hands in the air, swept up in her own confusion and the miserable look on her brother’s face from the night before.

 “A lot else!” Kurama says indignantly.

 “Oh yea, then prove it to me!” Her challenge is louder than she meant it to be but she doesn’t back down from the look she’s pinned Kurama with.

 “I-”

 “Oh come on!” Yusuke groans loudly from the registers, failing again to drag Kurama’s usual order from the barista. The sudden interruption causes both of them to jump and pause their arguing. The couple of occupied tables nearby are not so discretely looking at them, eavesdropping. But to their luck, Hiei and Kazuma look to be too wrapped up in Yusuke’s pleading to notice the heated conversation.

 Kurama’s face goes red again and he sinks down a little in the booth. Yukina is sorely tempted to follow him.

 (People are sorely wrong to think she doesn’t have a temper to rival her brother’s – but her fuse is much longer in the end. A healthy dose of embarrassment also drives her off far easier than Hiei. She hadn’t meant to get so loud!)

 The red head across the table groans and rubs at his face. Yukina watches him stare at his phone for a moment and then swiftly unlock it, open his conversation with Hiei on LINE, and push the phone for her to look at. She doesn’t want to. She is still angry with him and the entire situation – even if she’s now acutely aware of their onlookers – what good will it do to see the conversation from his side?

 Kurama bites his lip.

 “Please?”

 It’s only knowing she can’t get any answers from just looking at him angrily that gets her to pick up Kurama’s phone. She runs down the conversation without really reading it – a few stickers, Hiei answering some question the red head had sent him, the message that had put such a damper on her brother’s hopes. There’s nothing after that message, no text that didn’t send that would have made a better ending for Hiei. Yukina almost passes it back to Kurama to demand an actual explanation, when she realizes that something is sitting in the message box, waiting to be sent.

 ‘Hey, so, would you like to get dinner with me sometime?’ The text ends with one of LINE’s many emojis for the word ‘date’ – Yukina knows most of them from Kazuma’s texts. There’s no ambiguity in the little image. She looks back up to Kurama who is idly playing with his drink cup waiting for her response.

 He catches her eye and flushes heavily. Sinking into his seat again he begins to mumble to her.

 “I have been trying to ask him that since the amusement park date went so badly. I swear I type it at the end of every conversation but then I can never hit send. I never even shut my phone down last night – it’s been sitting there, mocking me since midnight”

 “Then…why…?” Yukina passes the phone back to him. Kurama shrugs, refusing to meet her eyes.

 “…I got home after Hiei asked me to garden and realized it was where I was taking my mother for her birthday literally the day before the date. I’d been so surprised I had completely forgotten about it. I couldn’t cancel on my mother, we’d been talking about it for months and flowers are a passion I got from her. But I didn’t want to call your brother up and look like I’d just been unable to turn him down in person.”

 Yukina checks on the rest of the group at the counter before she responds.

 “Then how did you end up at an amusement park.” If it’s possible, Yukina is almost positive Kurama looks even more embarrassed.

 “I may have asked Yusuke for help.”

 (It takes a lot of willpower for Yukina not to smack her face into the table.)

 “Why in the world-”

 “I had four places,” Kurama cuts her off in a rush, “and Kuwabara was at classes so I called Yusuke and between the two of us I got down to the amusement park. It would be open, the timing was good, it wasn’t too far away…. I should have called him then, I know I should have.” Finally the red head makes eye contact with her. He grimaces before he admits, “I chickened out, ok?”

 “Why did Yusuke and Kazuma come?”

 “That….was not actually planned.” If it’s possible, the red head looks even more embarrassed. “Kuwabara came in when Yusuke was trying to get me to call Hiei and somehow we got the grand idea to pretend Yusuke had won tickets and was using them as a group surprise. We knew Hiei hadn’t mentioned the date to anyone so we were just going to use that to lure him there and then Yusuke and Kuwabara were to get accidentally ‘separated’ from us and….. Look, it was a terrible plan, I was too nervous and completely misjudged it,” he haphazardly tries to defend the final thought process.

 “Can any of you handle social situations?” she blurts out. Kurama chuckles uncomfortably.

 “I’m almost positive it’s why the four of us work so well together. We run on the same wavelength.”

 “But you’re usually so good at this…”

 “Too much practice and a level head. Neither of which I had that day, believe me.” Kurama sips his drink awkwardly. Yukina looks him up and down.

 “So, you do want to go on a date with Hiei, right?” Kurama swallows roughly.

 “Yes, but I keep putting my foot in my mouth.” The red head looks over to Hiei, waiting for his drink to be called. Yusuke is going down the list of drinks to him, though for what reason they can’t tell. Hiei doesn’t look to be quite as into it as when Yukina had left him with the other two to order. Finally, Kurama turns back to her.

 “You think there’s any chance after what I did last night?”

 (Yukina wants to scream yes, to tell Kurama just how badly her brother had been pining. She wants to point out that they’re both morons who can’t properly talk to each other but she’s almost positive it’s just that both of them are overthinking everything. She wants to march her brother over there right that moment and personally secure the date herself. They’re perfect for each other, Yukina just knows it.)

 Before she can say anything, the barista rattle off the names of their companions and Kazuma bounces over with her latte and his coffee. Yusuke and Hiei are not far behind. Reluctantly, they let the conversation go as everyone maneuvers into the booth.

 Yukina stands and insists on Kazuma sitting all the way in and Hiei forces Yusuke to sit by Kurama by dawdling on his way over. He grabs a chair from an empty table and sits at the end of the table. They aren’t busy enough for it to be a bother, yet Yukina notices that all three of their companions give him an odd look for it anyways. Kurama slumps a little after its clear this will be the arrangement and begins to fiddle with his drink cup again. Hiei is staring at his own drink and notices nothing. Yusuke tries to move things forward by loudly, almost too loudly, trying to pry Kurama’s drink order out of him. Kazuma groans, trying to figure out why he’s so obsessed. The atmosphere at their table is awkward, but they press on.

 (It occurs to her that Yusuke, and perhaps Kazuma as well, has been attempting to play wingman since they had caused the first date to go belly up. They don’t seem to know what they are doing.)

 Fifteen minutes later, when Yusuke and Kazuma have started a heated argument over training and what qualifies as too much and her brother has gone back to the counter to get something to eat (he skipped breakfast, which Yukina has to admit is probably the most usual part of the entire morning), the teal haired woman takes a chance. With half the table distracted, her brother waiting at the counter, and Kurama silently watching on, she knows she probably won’t get another chance before they leave to head to the local gym.

 She texts Kurama under the table.

 ‘I have a date plan, do you want it?’ Yukina watches Kurama grab his vibrating phone and check it lazily – there hasn’t been much enthusiasm from that corner of the table since the rest had sat down. He blinks at the message and then slowly lowers the phone so the other two can’t look over and read his screen.

 Kurama’s reply is probably the most enthusiastic yes fox sticker LINE has. Green eyes flicker to hers and she smiles before looking back down to her phone.

 ‘Take him to the aquarium.’ Kurama only sends a question mark back.

 ‘Take him to the aquarium, he’ll love it because we haven’t gone in forever. YOU HAVE TO TELL HIM IT’S A DATE. Don’t you dare not tell him it’s a date, Kurama, I will know. It’ll make him nervous but you two can’t afford anymore miscommunication. Now this isn’t going to be the nervous you know, trust me. Be polite when he spouts forty minutes of stingray facts because he thinks the date is bombing. Take him to lunch/dinner because you know he’ll skip breakfast at the very least. He likes you, so please, don’t chicken out this time.’ She sends and then pauses.

 ‘Also I’m serious; I really hope you don’t hate stingrays.’ She knows she should leave it at that, but can’t help adding on again.

 ‘Be glad they don’t have the space for manta rays.’ Yukina flashes him a quick smile. Kurama mouths a thank you just as Hiei comes back from the counter with a breakfast sandwich.

 --

 Her apartment door swings open unexpectedly just as she finalizes the sale of the swimsuit. Yukina listens to her brother once again haphazardly kick off his shoes in her entry way before he shuffles further into her apartment.

 “The suit sold,” she announces to him once the message is marked as sent and read. However, she doesn’t get an answer and Hiei doesn’t come to the couch. She can hear him bouncing on his heels in his socks from the doorway. She’s already begun composing the scolding of Kurama’s life in her head before she turns around.

 Instead she gives her brother a long once over, raises her phone, and snaps a picture.

 (She assumes by the sheer size of the stuffed stingray in her brother’s arms that the date went very, very well.)

[moodring89]

CH.01 Down the Rabbit Hole

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader / Side Yoonseok Chapter Rated: PG-13 (Future rating will change to M) Genre: Fantasy, Hybrid AU (Prince Bunkook. Sue me.), Royal AU, Cinderella / Labyrinth feels Summary: Yoongi's sister buys two tickets to the Autumn ball held at the Meadows, a notorious city known for its hybrid inhabitants, where she hopes to meet a certain bunny princeling. Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04

“I’m sorry, what –?”

Yoongi held up a piece of mail, “Autumn Ball to be held at the Meadows in celebration of Prince Jeon Jeongguk’s Coming of Age?” The envelope was ripped at the top from where he’d opened it, being all sorts of casual about incriminating himself. “There’s no way in hell that our father is going to allow you to attend. You know this and yet you spent money on a ticket.”

“On two tickets,” she said, as she snatched the envelope from his fingers. “And why not?”

He didn’t know how to not sound like a prejudiced asshole, but he went for it anyway. “Because there are hybrids living in the Meadows and there’s still a ton o’ shit that we don’t know about them yet.”

“This is the first social gathering where hybrids and humans will be allowed to mingle and co-exist with one another, and like, in a party setting, which is just a bonus. It’s fascinating. No – it’s historic and you can bet your uptight, manhwa loving ass that I’d love to be there.” The blonde lowered his eyes at her, pouting resolutely when she continued, “I spoke with our father and you know what he said? ‘Get one for your brother, too.’”

He sighed, passively, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I was just rather hoping he’d do that thing where he beats on his chest and roars his short response of ‘fuck’ and ‘no’ from atop the highest mountain.”

She patted his shoulder with mock sincerity, “There, there, take the loss as it comes, swiftly and sweetly. Do you even own a proper suit and tie?”

“I have about as many suits as you do ball gowns.”

“So, zero then? ‘Kay, sounds good. We’re real ahead of this thing.”

Yoongi grabbed for his car keys, wanting to get it over with. “Let’s hit the stores now, before I decide to go in my pajamas. You know that I would, too.” When it comes to his sister, Yoongi tended to cave in, perhaps too easily. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, and most of the time – even things she could do living without, but he decided that she didn’t have to, like a new phone, or a bag.

They’d split up once they were inside the store, headed in two completely separate directions. She hadn’t expected half the town to be at this particular dress shop. Royal ball doesn’t exactly scream, ‘Let’s go to the local Mom-and-Pop boutique.’

The obnoxious text tone of Naruto’s catchphrase, ‘Believe it’ that she’d associated with Yoongi went off. She stared down at her phone.

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- It’s a fucking sausage fest here. 3:54pm

To: Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Funny, since it’s a clam-fam reunion over here, too. Any hopes of looking original have successfully gone out the window. 3:54pm

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Unless we go with my pajama idea? 3:54pm

To: Yoonji Unnie --------------------- I’m not meeting the Prince of the Meadows in a camisole. 3:55pm

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Gross. See you in the parking lot. 3:57pm

Yoongi was already inside the car, a plastic bag thrown carelessly into the backseat. She shut her door with a huff, somewhat affronted by it. “You were able to find a suit? I thought it was Wang city, far too many hand-to-gland casualities for you to possibly stay long enough to find something suitable.”

“Yeah, unlike you, I don’t care if I’m wearing the same shit as someone else, especially a fucking suit.” He started up the car and turned onto the main road, driving around idly, until they decided on their next stop. “Again, I would have gone in my striped pajamas without a single fuck to be spared. I like keeping my fucks to myself. However, something tells me that there is a dress code we have to adhere to...”

“Of course there is.”

Yoongi was scowling, as he tended to do so very naturally. “I would really hate to piss off the woodland creatures with our subpar fashion choices, so start calling out shops, and we’ll swing by to see if it’s packed.”

“Hybrids are people, not creatures,” she said, turning somewhat dejectedly to stare out the window. “Why do I have to remind you? You’re the intelligent one and yet you say the most asinine things.”

“What are you hoping to achieve by seeing the Prince? He will not favor you, as you do him.” It was such a sad anomaly, something that shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and it was too late. His sister had fallen in love through mere stories of the bunny princeling. What if the tales weren’t true? Don’t meet your heroes, wasn’t that the saying? The treaty between hybrids and humans had practically been forced, guns aimed at each other’s heads in a stalemate between two stubborn kings. It turned out that the two species needed to sustain each other, whether it was for the oil, the crops, or other various cargos: The union was not wanted, but it was necessary.

The thought that their father had even agreed to put them in some slight form of potential danger was preposterous to him. Although, it was possible that his darling sister was lying to him, right to his own fucking face. At least he could later credit himself for not being entirely blindsided by it. No one jukes Min Yoongi.  

“I don’t even expect to be allowed to speak with the Prince, so what does it matter?” They were stopped at a light. For a long moment, the silence played with the tension, thus swallowing the siblings up whole. She sighed, finding it be unbearable, “I only wish to look upon him, to take glimpse of his true nature for myself, instead by word of mouth.”

“Alright, enough. You can stop with the poetic shit. I get it…” Yoongi felt frustrated, stopping in front of a shopping mall. It didn’t appear to be as busy as all the other stores they had passed along the way, probably due to an even lower standard in quality. He surrendered his card as a form of an apology, which she graciously accepted. “Don’t make it long.”

She’d made it especially fucking long.

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

The tickets were a simple white cotton paper with speckled gold and elegant cursive. She half-mourned over the fact that she’d have to hand it over at the castle gates in order to get in. The girl kept the envelope, tucking it away inside the top drawer of her vanity. Tonight she would finally get to meet the Prince. After hearing so many stories of his time on the battlefield, of the scar which adorned his face along his cheek, how he’d spared a human General’s life.

Prince Jeongguk was an advocate for equality, a symbol of peace, and hope. He’d visited the Isles of Lunar and fed the sun to the poor. He did not leave, until all were healthy, and full. She’d heard that he’d brought in environmental scientists to study the moon enriched lands and that they’d found ways to sustain and harvest crops. That was how he’d inherited the nickname, ‘Lunar Prince’.

There were no photographs allowed to be taken of the Prince. However, the news articles were free to state as many details as they so desired. She’d tried to envision what he would look like given the various descriptions, tall and broad it had read, only one or two inches away from standing at six foot tall. Two velveteen rabbit ears sat atop a silky crown of raven black hair, pure white in color, and responsive to the change in his mood. One columnist in particular went on and on about the Prince’s dark eyes, how large, and doe-like they had appeared, despite their depth, and warmth. She’d rather enjoyed that bit.

For tonight, she’d wanted to dress in tears of silk and netted fabrics. The Meadows was said to be the pinnacle of nature itself, the homeland of the fae, and hybrid kind. Magic would exist in her world for only one night, but that was already more than what she could ever hope for. Her dress was a warm pigment of peach and was scattered with blossoms. Her hair was pinned up, save for a wavy strand here and there. Her skin would be devoid of any eye-catching jewelry and her makeup would be natural.

She would not pretend as though she belonged, because she didn’t. Yoongi stood in the doorway, wearing his suit more convincingly than she did her dress. Her brother should be more confident. Perhaps after tonight, he would be.

“I look ridiculous.”

She placed the tickets inside her clutch, “Oh, I’m very certain that we both look amazing. The word spiffy is still a thing and we are the definition.”

“Yeah, you should probably refrain from using that as a compliment.”

She laughed at his obvious discomfort, “I’ll be sure to use it at least three times tonight just to spite you.”

“Please do,” Yoongi said, twirling his keys in his hand impatiently. “Make sure to use it on your prince. He’ll then know for sure that you’re an ancient.”

“You wound me, brother.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, wondering if he’d ever stop rolling them for the duration of the evening. The Meadows was almost an hour by car. They made the most of it by listening to whatever music Yoongi decided to put on, rapping along to old CDs that she’d been forced to listen to time and time again, and for as long as she could remember. His voice was perfect for it, which was why she encouraged him to continue making music, even if their father disapproved of it.

He’d threatened Yoongi with a florist position. It could be done rather easily, since the shop was run by family. Luckily, their father was currently away on business and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. If he’d been home tonight, she had no idea as to what would have happened. A huge argument, wasted money, and a solitude evening listening to the muddled sounds of Yoongi’s piano.

The Meadows was no longer a guarded territory and for the first time ever, humans were being granted free passage. The new lands held such a dark enchantment, a beauty that was so drastically different from what they’ve ever known that they’d spent the rest of the drive in a state of silent enrapt. They followed the cars in front of them to the castle, which was at the heart of the city. It was a citadel surrounded by forest and closed in by tall gates. Parking was easy enough, as Yoongi handed over his keys to the valet.

“You good? Do you need me to piggyback you?” Yoongi asked, watching as his sister hesitated, stumbling more so than walking. It was a sign that her nerves were getting the best of her. “We didn’t come all this way, dressed up like assholes for nothing, princess. Remember why you wanted to come here. To partake in a historic event, wasn’t it?” It seemed to be working, when he heard her laugh. “Plus, I’m all famished and in dire need of eating sweets off of doilies, or whatever the fuck they serve royals. Let’s at least get some food in our systems.”

She caught his arm, holding onto him for her own stability, “What if I lose my mind in there?”

“Then I’ll find it for you.”

Would it really be that simple?

[unavenged-robin]

Children of yesterday

Direct sequel of For thine is the kingdom

Read on AO3

The second time Damian wears the Nightwing costume, it’s because he’s angry at Bruce. Not that he’s ever going to say it out loud, but Jason doesn’t need him to. It takes him just one look to understand.

“Hiya, baby Wing”, he greets him when the boy lands right on top of one the thugs currently trying to kill him.

“Don’t call me that”, Damian grumbles under his breath while he moves on to take down the next criminal.

Jason snorts and lands a few punch of his own, having care to never leave Damian out of his peripheral vision.

“Thought you’d like it better than baby Bat, considering the change of theme.”

Damian doesn’t respond to the barb. He just lowers his brow and keeps beating the daylight out of Penguin's’ men. Which, in a way, is exactly the answers Jason knew he was going to get.

But well, beating the lowlife it’s cheaper than actual therapy and provides a useful service to the community, so Jason’s more than okay with it. He still keeps an eye on the kid anyway, because he knows that kind of mindset and the troubles that come with it. He’s never been the family’s favorite babysitter for the kids, but he’s not a bad one, despite what Dick says behind his back.

But fighting side by side with Damian all dressed up in the Nightwing gears is a few degree of weirdness above the usual, and Jason finds himself distracted more than once. He has to put up with a few lame punches that otherwise would’ve never find their target, and yet he still keeps studying the new Nightwing’s performance.

The fighting style is so recklessly Damian it would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. The cold precision of his movements, the silent and once-upon-a-time lethal fury, they’re all Damian’s traits, but the kid’s making an effort in throwing in a few acrobatics pieces that are unmistakingly Nightwing’s signature. There is so much more, though. The meticulousness of the beating is all Bruce, for example. The controlled sequence of punches in all the right places, the way he uses every surface and every shadows to his advantage. Jason looks at him and sees a much younger version of himself training in the cave, Bruce looming over him, the sweet smell of Alfred’s cooking in the air.

“Hood!”

There’s a knife in Damian’s hand. And there’s a thug with a broken arm at Jason’s feet.

“I had that under control, kiddo”, Jason lies lazily. “But thank you anyway, it’s so sweet to know you care.”

“I’ll stab you myself if you don’t focus on the fight”, Damian promises with a snarl, and Jason laughs because no, he will not, and they both know that.

It’s funny to think that Damian was a lot more of a threat when he was a scrawny ten years old who barely reached Jason’s elbow than he is now, at eighteen, not yet taller or thicker than him, but definitely on his way to (although Jason’s still cradling the hope for Damian to get just a little bit taller than Dick and still be shorter than him, because that would be what perfection looks like in his book).

Anyway, on any other night Jason would’ve replied to the kid’s threat with something along the line of “both of your daddies would be so very upset to hear that”, but obviously tonight’s not the right time to push that issue. Not if Jason wants to avoid a black eye and a long conversation about daddy issues where he has to be the reasonable party and not the angry one.

Besides, he’s not sure he could be of help even if he tried. Jason’s never asked too many question about Dick and Bruce’s arrangement about Damian’s parentage. He never felt the need to, and for the better part of the time, he was also in no position to ask anything.

When Jason died he had a father, a grandfather and an older brother with a pregnant girlfriend. When he came back he had a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a sister in law, a niece and two little brothers, and one of said little brothers was also his older brother’s son. It was ridiculous and borderline shakespearian, and it amused him to no end. Still does, sometimes, especially during Christmas family dinners and such.

Jason takes care of another few thugs, then he leans against a wall and watches the new Nightwing in town doing his best to adjust the few remaining criminals’ bones in the most creative way he can think. He should probably tell him to take it a bit easier, but a bad night is a bad night, and it’s not like he’s in the right position to scold anyone about using violence as a stress relief.

But once all men are on the ground, Damian’s shoulders slump down, and the kid’s stance suddenly looks defeated, even if he’s standing in the middle of an alley littered with moaning enemies.

So Jason sighs and pushes himself up. Walking towards him, he wraps an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulls the kid closer to him and away from the thugs.

“Celebratory beer?”, he proposes.

He’s rewarded with a sideway smirk under the familiar blue domino mask.

“You would give alcohol to an underage vigilante, Hood?”

“Well, what kind of fun older brother would I be if I did not buy my little brother his first beer?”, Jason smiles back.

“The kind of fun older brother who would think that it’d be my first beer”, Damian retorts. “You’re worse than Bruce, honestly.”

“Oh, so he’s Bruce now? That bad, uh?”, Jason teases. “Well, at least he’s not Wayne yet, so if you want my professional opinion, I think there’s still hope.”

Damian elbows him in the ribs but Jason can tell he’s biting down another grin.

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t add anything and Jason doesn’t push. He’s never been one for touchy-feelings conversations and his family knows that. He ruffles the kid’s hair, then moves away.

“C’mon, brat, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Damian shakes his head at his offer.

“I’ll keep patrolling.”

Jason doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or frown at the idea. It’s not like Damian’s never patrolled alone before - far from it, actually - but it still feels like he has to say something about it. He just can’t decide what. So he keeps it simple.

“Damian.”

But the kid’s already taking out his grappling hook and only spares him a quick, stubborn glance.

“It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Jason finds himself relenting almost immediately. He smiles behind his mask and waves his hand to motion for the kid to move on.

“You’re welcome, by the way”, Damian taunts before vanishing up in the dark.

Jason scoffs and fishes out a phone from his back pocket.

“Hey”, he starts conversationally, without giving the other the time to put in even a hello?. “Just wanted to let you know I spotted a wild Nightwing running around Gotham. Looked a little bit like you, but way, way younger and good looking. Know anyone who may fit the description?”

*

Dick knew since the exact moment he and Kory signed up Damian’s adoption papers that this conversation was not going to be a one time thing.

They talked about it before the adoption was finalized, and they talked about it after, and then again when Bruce came back. They talked about it during sleepless nights and tiring days, over too excited family dinners and boring patrols. They talked about it with Damian and Mar’i, with Tim and Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie, with Bruce and Alfred, and even with Talia Al Ghul. And every time he talked about it, Dick felt like he had burning stones settled in his guts.

Tonight is no exception, of course.

When this thing started, he had no idea this is how it would’ve ended. Wouldn’t have believed it, if someone had told him.

When Bruce died and Damian came crashing into their lives, he was living in Blüdhaven with Kory and Mar’i. They had a house and friends and a good, long-established routine. They were happy, Dick remembers that. Moving back to Gotham was a sacrifice he didn’t do light-heartedly. Took a month for him to even start considering it. And when he did, he had to face Damian, this ten years old child who had just lost everything, living alone with Alfred in the empty shell of what it used to be his father’s house, and Dick just couldn’t bear it. So he took him in, because it was the right thing to do, and as a reward for his good action the first few weeks in the new house had been pure hell. Alfred did his best to keep everything together, but Dick was suffering, Mar’i was heartbroken, Damian was angry, Kory didn’t know what to do, and they were all mourning. On top of that the kids kept fighting and screaming at each other and Dick had lost his patience more than once.

That was the worst thing. Not bearing Bruce’s unwanted legacy, not training a new, arrogant, insufferable Robin, not even having to put up again with a city he thought he’d left behind, but seeing his family so broken. The fights with Tim, Cassandra’s absence, Barbara’s distance, Jason’s criminal rampage, Mar’i and Damian hating each other and being very vocal about it.

In retrospect, Dick really doesn’t know how he survived it. How they all survived to the anger and the blame and the constant suffering. And yet, he thinks now, smiling at Gotham’s cloudy sky, in the end they managed to do it oh so well.

He still remembers the first time he realized that things were finally starting to change for the better. It was maybe a few months after they moved to Gotham, he was pulling a late shift at the police station, working on a double homicide case, and he’d received a text from Kory. It was a photo, and at first he only saw the caption: two red heart emojis. Which, coming from Koriand’r, could mean anything, Dick had mused. But when he opened it, he found himself staring in surprise at two kids, one laying on his back, in a kind of funny, familiar soldier-like position, the other sprawled on top of the first one, face smushed into his shoulder, both deep asleep. Afterwards Dick had to admit that it took him a moment to recognize Damian and Mar’i (something Kory had found so, so funny).

It’s a good memory, one of his most treasured ones. He keeps it in mind now, while he swings from one building to another towards the coordinates Jason gave him.

*

He finds Damian on top of an old building, very close to where their penthouse used to be. It’s still a weird feeling, seeing him wearing his old costume, but overall it’s not an unpleasant one.

Dick lands on the roof with his usual quietness, but he doesn’t bother with hiding his presence. He knows Damian’s already spotted him.

“I have a joke”, he greets him then. “Two Nightwings walk into a bar, the bartender says-”

“Are you angry?”, Damian asks.

“No, that’s not how the joke goes.”

Damian huffs and reaches out to the back of his head to pull up a hood that’s not there. When he realizes his mistake Damian clenches his hands into fists before dropping them down on his lap. Dick’s heart hurts a little.

He sits beside him on the edge of the roof and bumps him with his shoulder to let him know that it’s okay, that angry is the last thing he would ever be, and Damian seems to understand the message well enough, but still refuses to look up at him.

“How does the joke go, then?”

“No idea. I didn’t come up with a punchline because I was counting on you interrupting me right away.”

Damian snorts and his feature softens in a way that Dick still finds heart-clenching, even after all these years. While he doesn’t mind doing it, he hates that he still has to reassure Damian that he’s loved - always, always loved - and that one burst of anger (because apparently they’re not allowed to call them tantrums anymore) is not going to change anything, not ever. Not for Dick, not for Bruce, not for anyone.

“You’re a ridiculous man.”

“Well, you’re a very serious kid”, Dick replies. “I have to compensate.”

Damian hums like he’s humoring him, and raises his head to stare at Gotham’s skyline. Dick doesn’t push him, but he reaches out to briefly rub a hand against the kid’s back in a silent invitation.

“Sometimes”, Damian starts, voice soft but steady. “I feel like he’s relieved when we go back to the cave to change after patrol and I leave to come home to you. And sometimes I feel like he’s angry at me for not staying, for- for betraying him like this.”

Dick sucks a breath between his teeth.

“Damian, you never betrayed him.”

“I did”, Damian objects. “I betrayed my mother for him, and I betrayed him for you. What does that say about me?”

“That you still have trouble understanding how this family thing works, kiddo.”

Damian frowns and for a moment Dick really believes that this time the kid’s going to listen to him. To, at least, take in consideration the idea that there’s no foul play here, that family is not an army or a political party. But he senses the defeat even before he sees Damian shaking his head.

“I made a choice”, the kid states. “And it was mine, not Father’s, and not yours or Kory’s.”

Dick remembers it differently.

He remembers coming back home two days after Bruce’s return from the dead to find Damian’s stuff packed and his bags piled up by the front door. He remembers hearing Mar’i cry and Damian refusing to answer her questions, the sound of skin hitting skin and his daughter flying away from them when he entered the living room.

He remembers Damian looking up at him, right cheek still red from Mar’i’s slap.

“He’s my father.”

And it sounded like a question, so Dick answered.

“So am I.”

It hurt to see the grimace on Damian’s face, it hurt even more when the boy licked his lips and looked away before speaking.

“It’s- that’s not the same thing.”

Damian was eleven by then. And Dick knew that all his reasons could not overthrow a decade of Al Ghul’s convictions about legacies and bloodlines. So he reached out and pulled Damian to his chest, hugged him close, kissed the top oh his head.

“You don’t have to choose”, he murmured into the boy’s hair. “No one will ever ask you to choose, Damian. Not me and not Bruce. And whatever you decide to do, no one will get angry. I promise you that.”

It was obvious that Damian didn’t believe him in the slightest. And in a dark corner of his mind Dick had thought that the kid was expecting not only a choice, but also the resulting punishment, and he just couldn’t shake off the idea that Damian was choosing Bruce because he’d expect a worse punishment from him than from Dick.

It angered him, but he was ready to let Damian go anyway. Because he felt guilty towards Bruce, because he felt like it was not his place, not his choice. But then Damian had tightened his fists, pushed himself closer to Dick and without even looking up, he had asked him a question.

“Then can I stay?”

That whisper had hurt him then, and it keeps hurting him everytime he thinks about it, because Damian never asked it again, not in words, but Dick can still hear it sometimes. Knows that Kory can hear it too. He hears it again tonight, underneath everything else, and he shuts his eyes close, inhaling and breathing out Gotham’s cold air with a sigh.

“It was your choice”, Dick agrees. “And Bruce’s. And mine and Kory’s. Kiddo, believe me, if we didn’t all agree that it was the best thing for you, then our arrangement would’ve been different, you know that.”

And at the time there had been indeed a lot of discussions about other viable options. But what Dick remembers better than anything else, was Bruce sitting at his desk, features unreadable as ever as he examined the adoption papers, his fingers hovering over Damian’s name and Dick’s signature, like he was looking for the right clues to piece together a story of which he only knew the ending. Like they were one of his cases to be solved and not just his family.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, so Dick swallows, then reaches out for Damian’s hand before continuing.

“And I know how Bruce gets. I know that sometimes it feels like that whatever you do is not good enough for him, that you disappoint him in every little things. But believe this too: even if that’s the case, and not only your insecurity getting the best of you, then that’s Bruce’s problem, not yours”, Dick explains softly. “As long as you do your best, as long as you feel like you’re doing what’s right for you, then other people's expectations are nothing more than a suggestion, something you have to decide for yourself whether to accept or ignore. That’s especially true if we are talking about parents, both biological and adoptive. We don’t always know best, you know?”

Damian makes a snorting noise but doesn’t pound in on that like he usually would. For someone who was born with a destiny and a carefully planned life, it’s confusing to be told that there is no great scheme, that life is not a war to be won. Dick understands that.

“You planning on keeping that suit for yourself or you prefer keep stealing it every now and then?”, he asks then, to lighten the mood. “Because I don’t mind either way, but replacing the locks every night could become annoying.”

“I’ll fix them”, Damian mutters. “Sorry”, he adds then, as an afterthought.

“You didn’t answer me”, Dick points out.

“Are you really only asking about your suit”, Damian muses. “Or are you asking me if I’m ditching Robin?”

Dick stretches his arms, clasps his hands behind his head and lays down on his back against the cold concrete of the roof. It takes Damian less than a minute to let out an exasperated sigh and follow his example. Dick smiles and closes his eyes again.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, kiddo”, he answers when he feels Damian’s head resting against his arm. “Just that I’m going to be proud of you whatever you decide to do.”

And this time, at least, Damian doesn’t question his words or the feeling behind it.

[sappire-charizard]

OKAY so @sakuraxisxevil is in love with Guzma from SuMo and a) I ship it, b) she introduced me to the idea of a Pokemon AU where everything is old timey lords and ladies and princesses. Also probably real life animals replace Pokemon because why not?

This AU catered exactly to like... all of my favorite things, so in return I thought I’d try to write her a little thing?? It’s not very long, and I feel like it’s definitely missing something, but I wanted to get it out there for the time being as a present~ :D

Also I’m kind of tired so my proofreading probably leaves a lot to be desired and apologize in advance. ^^;

Guzma stood, hands bound with rope, staring down the noose that waved cruelly at him in the wind. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, evidence of the sleepless night he had spent in the cellar of his father's estate, and his hair was hanging damp around his ears from the nervous sweat even his stubborn pride had been unable to prevent. It was just as well it left him dehydrated, really- with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth he was less likely to try and make a scene. At this point he half suspected that was what they wanted from him; to prove before the town he was still a boisterous nuisance that needed to be silenced. The sort that no one would miss. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. Finally, when the swinging rope became too much, he dropped his eyes to his bound hands, raising them so he could stare at his palms. He might have been bound to a post beside the gallows' platform and in front of the slowly-gathering crowd, but they had left him enough freedom to raise and lower his arms. Again, probably in hopes he would react like a chained animal and try to escape, making a show for the people.

In all honesty, he had never really attached that much importance to his life. He only existed so his family could say they had an heir. They had to have someone to put on display and then try to whip into shape when no one was looking, it was just that he had just refused one too many times to get into whatever shape it was they expected of him. Every disappointment he'd caused them had led to this- his final punishment for rebellion. Even now, he felt nothing when he thought of going through the ordeal ahead of him. Just one more son disowned by his family, destined for the chopping block so they could make room for another and use him as an example. But as his mind wandered further from himself, instinctively searching for some kind of emotion to feel so it wasn't left drifting in this sea of apathy, his fingers curled inward into fists. Erika. She had been his future. The one thing that had given him a spark of hope for something better down the road. He had told himself from the onset that nothing good would come of getting too close to her- eventually his father had been bound to intervene- but that hope had persisted. That terrible, lovesick hope that made him feel nauseous with loneliness when he was shut up in his own chambers. The rebellious ache in his chest when his father spoke to him at dinner about his family's plans they had set for him without his consent. The wonderful thrill of a quickened heartbeat when he found himself meeting her at three AM in the gardens outside his window.

His stomach tightened into a knot and he had to swallow a lump in his throat.

He wouldn't cry. He couldn't let his father think he had won. To show tears now would be to show weakness and fear. It would show regret.

He didn't regret the evenings when Gladion would buy out an entire inn and Erika and her group of friends would gather with him in the lobby to waste half the night laughing and joking as if for all the world they had no responsibilities. He didn't regret actually taking the time to live a little bit of life, even though he knew punishment came swift and painful afterwards to remind him of his place. He didn't regret the awkward flirting or the unbidden blush he had been so often suffered from.

He didn't regret falling in love with a woman that had actually made him feel like he was worth something.

His attention was drawn from his hands as the creaking of wooden steps broke through the whispering of the thickening crowd. As everyone fell silent, he looked towards the gallows again and saw his father now standing a few feet away facing the people, decked out in richly colored robes with a rolled piece of parchment in his hand.

He definitely didn't look like a father mourning the upcoming loss of his only son.

Guzma closed his eyes and hung his head as the all too familiar voice began to address the gathering. "Today we witness the execution of a punishment handed down from the local court..."

---

The dust rose in thick clouds as hooves the size of dinner plates flew over the the ground, covering the distance quickly not due to speed but solely because the length of the strides were twice that of another horse. Sappire had needed power and stamina over short bursts of speed, and her prized shire horse hadn't failed her in that department.

As she neared the edge of the town now, she tightened her grip on the rope she'd fashioned into reins and dared to draw her steed to a slow canter and then a trot, coming upon the pair that stood there waiting beside the road. Erika stood wringing her hands anxiously, looking as though her nerves were frayed beyond all repair, while Gladion was at her side, holding on to the reins of his own horse as if prepared to jump into the saddle at any moment. Sappire didn't wait for either of them to speak. "Where are they at?" Given Erika's state, it was Gladion who answered, voice tense. "Town square. They're bound to start any minute." Reaching one hand to the satchel at her hip, Sappire gave the reins a sharp slap against her horse's shoulders with the other, bouncing her heels against his sides to further illustrate her intentions. Javelin was not a horse that needed to be told twice, and he shifted back from fast trot to full gallop effortlessly, pausing only long enough to almost rear onto his back hooves to get a small hop of a start. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew his rider needed his utmost obedience- and he intended to give it to her.

A second later the two were lost in a cloud of dust again and the clattering of horseshoes echoes down the cobblestone street. By the time it had settled a little around them, Erika turned to Gladion only to be greeted with the sight of him in his own saddle, reaching down a hand to her. "Get on. You ought to be there, too." There was only a moment of hesitation- a flicker of doubt that perhaps they'd arrive too late and meet with a scene she didn't think she could face- but it faded as quickly as it had come and she took the offered hand with as much courage as she could muster.

They were going to make it in time.

They had to make it time.

---

Danie darted in and out among the crowd of people that now stood in silence around the gallows, listening to the long list of crimes Guzma had allegedly committed against his family. Where was Erika? She looked from face to face for her friend, desperately hoping to find her and determine what was taking so long. Sappire had said she had a plan the night before- she'd all but stormed out of the room upon hearing the news of the verdict that had come in near midnight. Whatever that plan was, it was already running late if it was meant to put a stop to this public hanging.

If Archie hadn't gotten himself locked up for trying to storm Guzma's family estate by himself... Bless his stupid little bravado-filled heart, but trying to determine the state of his imprisonment had caused Danie to run late herself, effectively leaving her out of the loop. Supposedly Erika had been left under Gladion's watch but... but oh, if she could just find her in the crowd-!

This thought process, as well as the reading of Guzma's apparently numerous transgressions, was interrupted by the crashing of hooves against stone, and everyone turned as one in the direction they came from. It didn't take long for everyone to realize that a very large horse was coming at a very fast gallop directly towards them and there were scattered yelps and screams as everyone scrambled to clear the way. Sappire barely managed to stop Javelin in time, and he slid to a halt mere inches from the wooden stage that Guzma's father stood on. Or, well, had been standing on. Nearly getting run into by a shire horse of that size had caused him to stumble backwards and trip, landing on his back and presently scrambling to sit back up. "A decree!" Sappire cried, barely waiting for the clamoring around her to settle as she whisked a gold-trimmed scroll from her satchel. "A decree and royal pardon!" Guzma's attention had been won the moment he'd heard the yells from the crowd and he looked over the edge of the stage to see what the fuss was about. Seeing Sappire unroll the paper in her hands, he felt his heart jump to his throat. A royal pardon? For him? Of all people, he considered himself the least worthy person in town to warrant any attention from the king, and yet...

A second set of hoof beats drew him away from his thoughts. Though Sappire had begun to read from the document she held, Guzma shuffled a few steps to the side- using up about all the length he had with the rope tying him to the pole- and his eyes widened as he saw behind her.

Approaching now (admittedly at more reasonable pace so as to avoid terrifying any of the bystanders further), Erika was clinging on for dear life to Gladion on the back of his own stallion. She peered over the duke's shoulder as they slowed their pace, and her eyes flicked to the empty noose for just a second before searching out the face of the man still bound beside it. Once she met the pair of wide, confused eyes she could only breathe a sigh of relief. They had made it. She barely waited for Gladion to come to a complete halt before leaping off the back of the horse to the street below. She stumbled at the force of her landing, almost falling, before gathering up a few handfuls of her skirts into her arms and running to the man who had only moments before been destined for the noose. Danie had seen her by now, as well as made an effort to call out to her, but it died midway when she realized it was pointless. There was no getting Erika’s attention at this point.

Guzma stared at her for a moment before speaking in a broken, hoarse voice hardly loud enough to be heard, let alone at the distance she was at. "Erika...?" Then, as she drew closer, he found his volume again. "Erika-!" By the time she had rushed up and thrown her arms around him he was only vaguely aware that his cheeks were beginning to feel wet with tears. He wasn't even sure when they had started. With his hands still bound by the rope all he could do was bury his face in the crook of her neck to return her embrace, but it was enough for him in that moment. Taking in a deep breath and savoring the familiar scent of her perfume, faded as it was from a night of pacing the floors with worry, he let it out in a half-sob. She was there. It was going to be okay because she was there. He didn't even care that he was crying on her shoulder now; if it ruined her dress he'd buy her a new one. He'd buy her a dozen new ones. All he had to his name was a pill bug and a stale piece of bread in his pocket, but he'd figure out how to afford them later. For now, he just needed to let everything sink in. He needed to let her presence sink in.

"... I love ya, lil' bug."