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danceworshipper · 4 years ago

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Giulio Moretti - HPMA Character Profile

template by me // images created using the zepeto app

NOTE: I am a cisgender female. As such, I have been hesitant to make a trans oc and will not be going into much detail about Giulio's experiences specifically related to his gender. If anything in here feels iffy to anyone not cisgender, please let me know and I'll correct it

Personal

Full Name: Giulio Antonio Moretti

Gender: Male (trans)

Sexuality: Demisexual, polyamorous

Birthday: June 1st

Age: 11

Birthstone: Alexandrite

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Blood Status: Full Veela

- I'm mostly using these headcanons written by @carmilla-the-bird, though over time I might end up changing a couple details

- I'm not certain if full Veelas would even use wands/go to magic school but these ones do because I say so

- What I'm specifically adding is that since HPMA takes place later than the full HP series, there has been a new method developed to allow full veelas to better coexist with wizards. This comes in the form of a clear gemstone that can be inserted into any piece of jewelry, usually necklaces. While the stone is worn, the charm [or allure, as I call it] that all veelas have while glamored is dampened by up to 80%. Another effect is that when angered, the veela won't be able to lash out with their fire magic, unless they've trained their magic well enough that's it's less of an instinct and more of a conscious choice. Minors are legally required to wear it at all times, except in their own home with only their family around. Once an adult the veela can choose whether they want to wear it or not. The stone has a similar trace to underaged magic, so when a Veela who's a minor takes it off, the Ministry is alerted and their location will be tracked

3 Positive Traits:

- Empathetic

- Resourceful

- Playful

3 Negative Traits:

- Irritable

- Addictive

- Pessimistic

Usual First Impression: When meeting Giulio, most people see him as a spoiled and stuck up little boy. This isn't true. He's just very wary of strangers, so he doesn't tend to leave a good first impression. Once he's more comfortable around someone, his positive traits outshine the more negative ones

Location

Birthplace: A Veela-specific clinic in southern Italy. His mother travelled there for all of her children's births, and the midwife there is the woman who delivered her

Current Home: His family home in England, a medium sized house under a strict Fidelius charm, which his aunt is the Secret Keeper for. His bedroom is on the second floor, looking out over the fish pond in the backyard

Future Home(s): Fresh out of Hogwarts he'll share an apartment with Lori with heavily warded Floo access. Later homes TBD once his love interests are planned out

Favorite Place: The little house the family rents for a month every summer in southern Italy. The town is full of good culture, and better yet, good food. It feels peaceful, even when there's a loud festival going on

Disliked Place: The woods a mile down the road from his home. The woods are the last place Giulio saw his grandmother before she went missing, and now they feel like they're haunted. He refuses to go on walks there anymore

Appearance

Face Shape: Round, slightly pointy chin

Eye Color: Deep teal

Hair Color: Whitish blond

Hair Style: Self cut (horrifies his mother), slightly uneven, medium length. Not brushed every day, fluffy

Skin Tone: Pale

Freckles/Spots: A few beauty marks on his face, two near his right eye and one on the left side of his chin

Scars: None yet

Piercings/Tattoos: None

Height: 5'7" [fully grown]

Weight: ~ 135 lbs [fully grown]

Physique: Thin. Luckily for him, Giulio's family has always had rather "boyish" bodies - wide shoulders, not very curvy - but he's still got too much woman in him to be fully happy with his form

Clothing Style: Baggy tops, loose pants, nothing fancy. Giulio tries to attract as little attention as possible, because while he's glamored people stare at him a lot anyway, even with the dampener. He does like colored pants, but his tops are usually grey and black. His dampening necklace is the most eye catching thing he wears (as it was a gift from his missing grandmother) and he wishes he could take it off, but he legally can't

Carried Items:

- The last picture of him, his sisters, and his grandmother ever taken

- A lighter. He likes having the fire near him since he can't access his own fire magic

- His hair scissors, for whenever he feels like it needs to be trimmed

- A container of Silly Putty he got from a Muggle convenience store

- His water bottle

Magic

Wand: 10" Veela hair wand in Fir wood. A very pale colored wand that's a bit rough around the edges. The hair is from his younger sister Martina, who yanked the strand right out and handed it to the wandmaker after no wands appeared to choose a very defeated looking Giulio. The wand was made while Giulio watched, and he checked it many times throughout the process to make sure it felt like it would have him, which it did.

Animagus: As a veela, Giulio can transform into pretty much any bird shape. He has no need to go through the animagus process

Boggart Form: Him, fully matured, very womanly, and in a wedding gown just like the ones his older sister Alessia fawns over

Riddikulus Form: Him in a ridiculously exaggerated Bloody Baron costume

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Giulio would smell new pillows, the faint burning metal scent that clings to him, and the dry shampoo he uses

Amortentia (to them): He doesn't smell any sort of romantic interest yet. What he smells now are safe, comforting smells, like the cigars his mother and aunt smoke, the perfume all his sisters use, and the smell of his favorite restaurant in southern Italy

Patronus: Bird of Paradise

Happiest Memory: Receiving his wand once it was completed, and finally feeling the connection and power he'd heard so much about but thought he'd never have

Mirror of Erised: Some might consider it sad, but all he sees is him, happy, the way he wishes he was - including not looking at all like a Veela. Someday this will change

Family Spells: It's not really a spell, but the Morettis have a particular bird call that, when paired with the right charm, will alert every living family member to the caller's location, should one desperately need help. It's only to be used in emergencies. Giulio isn't sure he wants to know why his grandmother never used it

Inherent Magic: Veela stuff - storm sense, fire, bird transformations, allure, slight levitation abilities

Family

Grandmother: Francesca is not an ideal parental figure. She grew up in a time when full Veelas were treated with nearly the same suspicion and prejudice as werewolves, so she's very anti-human. However, she was still one of Giulio's best defenders and most treasured family members. She places a huge importance on family and is the one who came up with the idea of the special danger call. Francesca went missing when Giulio was seven, and there have been no clues as to what happened.

Mother: Valentina is a kind, gentle woman who cares for her family before anyone else. She and her sister were taught all their lives to be nothing more than a pretty face, and while Bianca rejected this, Valentina embraced it. Even now, with her own mother nowhere to be found, she has trouble remembering to be herself. She wears her necklace at all times, terrified to be without it

Father: Giulio never knew him. He's not sure he even has one

Aunt: Bianca is, in many ways, the exact opposite of her sister. Bianca embraces all of her less than proper instincts, and even walks around in public completely unglamored, acting as a good deterrent to anyone who might want to come say hi, innocent intentions or not. Gets angry very easily, and has caused public property damage more often than Valentina would appreciate

Sisters: Two older sisters, one younger. All Slytherins while in school

- Alessia, six years older, prefect. A headstrong young woman who takes advantage of her allure to get what she wants, and is skilled enough to fight off anyone who gets too "friendly". She likes to have a collection of boy toys she never lets get too close, but secretly only has eyes for the Hufflepuff prefect, Lina.

- Emilia, four years older, Quidditch captain. Hates her allure with a passion and refuses to even think about romance until she's out of school. Could kick anyone's ass, and will do so if she feels the need to. Very protective of Giulio, has gotten into at least eight shouting matches with those who misgender him

- Martina, one year younger. The baby of the family. A bit of a spoiled brat, and too young to fully understand exactly why her older siblings are all so wary of strangers, or letting her out of their sight. She dreams of being the Minister of Magic, and of being able to take her "stupid, ugly, and stupid" necklace off for good

Pets: The two family screech owls which trade off being at school/home, and an Abraxan Giulio found on Hogwarts grounds that likes him a lot

Family Values: The Morettis hold nothing higher than each other. The family's main priority is sticking together, and always doing whatever they can to help each other achieve whatever they wish. The family is also, as a whole, rather reclusive

Opinion of Family: Giulio loves his family. For all their faults, they hold true to their values and he couldn't imagine one of them ever betraying another. Even if they won't ever truly understand him, they've all tried and they do what they can, and it means more than he can say

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Introverted

Best Friend: Oleander Loris. Her anger issues, her weird pink eyes, and her tendency to drag him along to social outings are all things that Giulio comes to appreciate over time. He originally became curious about her on the train ride to school, when she stumbled looking at his older sisters but didn't notice him at all, and they spoke for the first time in Flying class. Lori is definitely a force to be reckoned with, and the fact that she's not affected by his allure in the slightest makes him feel really happy

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend He Didn't Expect: Cassandra. They aren't the best of friends, and maybe they can't be considered friends at all, but she doesn't hold the contempt she seems to hold for most others for him

Who He Wishes Was His Friend: Kestra Fernera. She's got fire powers, and she doesn't have to be chained down by the Ministry. He thinks she's super cool, and is very jealous of her and how popular she is, but he's far too nervous to try and talk to her

List of Casual Friends:

- Brian Haywood-Reese @catohphm

- others TBD, but likely the main cast of the game. Mc friends welcome, if any are interested!

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD

His Type: Pretty much anyone who's able to look past the allure that Giulio hates so much and also isn't afraid of him in his natural form, though most people haven't even seen it

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Not on the team, but plays casually

Clubs: TBD

Organizations: None

Favorite Class: Flying. Duh

Least Favorite Class: Potions. It gives him a headache surrounded by all the fumes

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood:

- Giulio realizes young that he hates the idea of being a girl, and insists that his mother change his name. His family thought it was a phase, but once they realized it wasn't, they became more serious and started to see what they could do to help him

- He's a sheltered child, learning early the importance of staying close to a trusted adult. He sees the horrors of what can happen to a Veela caught unaware at a young age when he almost loses his mother to someone who wanted to sell her, and never looks at strangers the same way again

- At five years old Giulio is given his dampener necklace. He refuses to wear it until his grandmother forcibly puts it on him. He decides it's not that bad, though it feels like it's choking him and he doesn't like the muted feeling in his hands that comes from the loss of his instinctual magic

- At seven years old, Giulio is on a walk with his grandmother in the woods when he hears a loud screech. She sends him back toward the house, saying she'll be right behind him. Hours pass, and she never follows. There's no evidence as to what that screech was, or what happened to his grandmother

- At eleven years old, Giulio spends a week traveling to different wandmakers around Europe trying to find a wand so he can go to school in the fall. For some reason, his magic is picky and not a single wand even comes close to working for him. When he's given up all hope, his little sister Martina asks if the wandmaker takes custom orders, and rips out her own hair to be used for Giulio's wand. It's the first time Giulio cries happy tears, hovering his hand over the uncompleted wand and feeling it call to him already

School Years: TBD once I'm able to play the game

Post Graduation: Giulio moves into an apartment with Lori soon after graduating. While she immediately starts work, Giulio takes time to find some higher education, and work on training his Veela magic now that he can take his necklace off whenever he wants

Career(s): TBD

Marriage and Children: TBD

Death: Giulio will be murdered by [redacted] in order to save [redacted]'s life, but he'll be very old (around 200) and will have outlived his lovers, so he doesn't see it as too much of a shame. He'll be buried in the family garden and have some lovely flower bushes planted over him

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- The Veela magic in Giulio recognizes him as a boy as soon as he does. When his allure kicks in, anyone attracted to men finds themself affected, while those strictly into women do not, even though male Veelas are practically unheard of

- His aunt Bianca paid a personal visit to Hogwarts before he was enrolled, ready to throw flames if he was going to be put into the female dorms. Luckily, she didn't need to worry, as once the situation was explained it was settled with a simple change in his paperwork

- Giulio hates being cooped up indoors for too long. Even in the coldest days of winter, he'll spend as much time as possible outside

- Starting in third year, Lori will figure out how to get the necklace off of him without alerting anyone [putting it on herself within a few seconds], and Giulio will occasionally spend a few hours free and in his natural form in the Forbidden Forest. Unbeknownst to him, wearing the necklace saps at Lori's magical core, and it takes her a day or so to regain her strength if she wears it for more than thirty minutes

- Giulio will likely have three partners in the future. He could never even imagine having one, so if his younger self was told he would have three he would probably have a difficult time believing it

- Cutting his hair so frequently doesn't affect his magic like his mother feared it would, though he does feel nauseous when he does it

- The dark teal eyes are something only he and his sisters have, which is how he knows they all have the same "father" or whatever they had. His mother, aunt, and grandmother all have the traditional black eyes. Not even Alessia ever saw any type of man around when her younger siblings were born, so there are no clues as to how the four of them exist

- As much as he hates the dampener, it does him a lot of good when he's younger. He gets angry easily and often feels very defensive, so without it he could have gotten into a lot of trouble

- Though he doesn't like his allure, Giulio will sometimes take advantage of it like Alessia does if he wants to get out of something. He won't fight it, he'll play nice, and let whoever he needs to back off get a little dazed

- He wanted to hide the fact that he was a Veela when he first came to Hogwarts, but with two older sisters and his allure he couldn't

#harry potter magic awakened #magic awakened #hpma #hpma oc #giulio moretti #veela oc #slytherin oc #I'm probably going to play as him tbh since it would feel wrong to play a character in any other house

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

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Seasons to Cycles / 1

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 9217

Rating: M (Mentions of drug use, sex with multiple partners, language)

Summary: A chance encounter brings someone new into your life. Is this the beginning of a serious change - and an important addition - or is it just chance?

Author’s Note: Well I am terrified to post this. Most of you know how important writing Logan CORRECTLY is to me, and so I’m really worried about this one, because it’s a very different take on him. There’s a lot that I have to say without directly saying it - but please, stick with me, and I PROMISE everything will be explained in good time.

I chose the “long chapter” route rather than breaking it up, because as I was editing, it didn’t make sense to end it sooner/the only cut point was at 3500 words, which would still have left a 7,000 second part.

Don’t be afraid to give me your honest opinions about this one... I want them, and I can take it.

This song sets the tone for the entire story. This is the mindset I’m writing Logan with. It’s not going to be pretty.

I figured I’d be able to get in and out before I went to see Jess, and now… You sighed, pushing your cart through the aisles of the grocery store and reaching around people to grab items from the shelves. Guess everyone else had the same thought. I should have just gone to Safeway. Groaning quietly, you sidestepped a woman and her child to get to the last aisle you needed - the flowers and cards. Gotta grab one for Jess, and then… But you stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone standing next to their cart in front of the card rack, taking up the majority of it. For real? Shifting on your feet, you leaned forward, eyeing the man’s back, and willing him to hurry. He’s taking up the…

But after nearly a full minute of the man standing still with his hands in his pockets, you decided to speak. I can’t stay here all night. “Excuse me.” The man still didn’t move, and you rolled your eyes as you cleared your throat. “Hey, you? In the dress shirt? Excuse me.” Finally, he turned his head toward you, and you again paused. Holy shit, what is someone that looks like that doing in here? “I know picking cards out is a pretty serious thing, but uh, you’re blocking the whole aisle.” Glancing into his cart, you raised an eyebrow. “And your ice cream’s going to melt.” His eyes going wide, the man turned further, looking down into his cart and swearing under his breath, one hand coming out of his pocket and raking through his hair - though the motion didn’t disrupt the styling. He looks familiar, but I don’t …

“Shit.” The man turned completely away from the shelf, reaching in to pick up the carton of ice cream, carefully inspecting it, even as his fingers pushed into the sides. “I didn’t even…” He set it down and then looked back at you, dark brown eyes fixed on your face. “I figured I’d pick one and be outta here, but it…” He shrugged. “Sorry, let me move the cart.” Before you could reply, the man was rolling it further down the aisle, where the only thing it could block was a spinning display of children’s books.

“Thank you.” Your cart out of the way too, you stepped closer to the shelf, crouching down and eyeing the birthday cards on the lower rows. The man stepped back next to you, still looking through the shelves, and after a few seconds, you looked up at him again, narrowing your eyes as you watched him reach for one and then draw his hand back. “Are you looking for something in particular? Wife? Girlfriend? Brother? S-”

“My housekeeper’s son broke his arm.” He sighed, pulling his left hand from his pocket and letting it hang next to his thigh. No ring. But that doesn’t mean… “So she had to cancel on me today, and probably for the rest of the week, so I’m here gettin’ my own groceries, and I thought I’d stop an’ take him some ice cream and a card on my way home.” Your lips parted at the explanation, and you shifted on your feet, hands resting on your bent knees. Maybe I should break my arm and see if someone that looks like him brings me a treat. “My sister broke her leg as a kid, and I remember all she did was eat ice cream an’ watch cartoons, so -”

“Well.” You stood, grinning at him. “You’re gonna want to get a fresh container, because that one you’ve already got looks a little sad.” He wrinkled his nose at your words but nodded, and you continued. “How old is he?” The man thought for a second and then shook his head. “Seven? Eight?” You watched his jaw work, noticing a small, thin scar high on his cheekbone. “I think he just had a birthday, but I …” You reached past the man, picking out a card with a chocolate chip cookie with a face on the front, a large, colorful bandaid affixed to the top of it’s head. “A cookie?” He sounded incredulous, but you just nodded, handing him the card and waiting for him to open it. “You’re one tough cookie… that’s so stupid, it…” But he was fighting back a laugh as he glanced over at you.

“It is stupid, but that’s the point. He’s a kid. It’ll make him laugh.” You shrugged. “And, it’s not that pseudo-inspirational bullshit that people always try to give people when they…” He laughed again and you stopped speaking, unsure of what was so funny. “Anyway,” you continued as he smiled at you, one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk that forced his cheek round. “It’s just a suggestion, but I -”

“Thank you.” The man nodded again and then looked away, reaching for an envelope, his long fingers plucking it from the shelf with ease. “I woulda stood here for another ten minutes, and probably picked out one of those… what’d you say? Pseudo-inspirational bullshit cards? Perfect for a kid, right? I have no idea what most of ‘em like.” Chuckling, you dropped down again, eyes moving over the cards in front of you and reading them quickly.

“Glad to help.” You grabbed a card too, flipping it open to read the inside and then straightening, noticing that the man was still waiting next to you. What is …

“I’m serious, thank you for the help.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he closed his eyes briefly for a second. “It’s probably pretty obvious that I don’t spend a lot of time in -”

“Hey, I’m not judging you.” You tucked your card into its envelope and pressed your lips together. “Like I said, picking out cards is a -”

“No, I…” He rolled his eyes. “I’m Logan.” Logan… you don’t hear that often. “You?” He’s asking me my name?

“Nice to meet you, Logan.” You stuck your hand out, smiling as you introduced yourself, Logan’s fingers sliding against yours and then against your palm before he shook it, grip firm. “Glad I could help you out.” He pulled his hand away first, but you felt one of his fingers curl slightly, the tip of his nail dragging slowly across your skin as he did so. Wh…

“And you.” Logan’s gaze moved away from you and toward the front of the store before his eyes drifted back to your face. “Guess I gotta go and replace that ice cream. Got any flavor suggestions for me?” Without a pause, you stared right back into Logan’s eyes and replied - straight faced.

“Cookie dough?” That time, neither of you could hold back your laughter, but after a few seconds, you took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. “I’ve gotta go, Logan. I’m meeting a friend for her birthday tonight, and I want to get home before it gets too late. I hope your housekeeper’s son is doing alright, and I’m sure he’ll love the card… and the ice cream.”

“Yeah.” Logan chewed on the corner of his lip for a second and the nodded twice. “I bet he will.” He will. Definitely.

Without saying anything else, you turned back to your cart, fingers winding around the handlebar as you began to push it. Well that was a nice distraction. As you passed the end of the aisle, your eyes went wide. Shit, I still need… After a few more minutes of navigating your way through the other people in the store, you headed back toward the cashiers, staring at the contents of your cart and frowning. Hope I didn’t forget anything.

Joining a line of people waiting to check out, your eyes strayed to the rack of magazines near the register, both of them widening as you saw one of the covers. Is that… “Don’t believe everything you read.” Spinning toward the voice, you saw Logan standing behind you, both of his hands on his cart. “Those magazines are mostly bullshit.”

“Are you telling me that…” You paused, head tilted to the side. “You’re Logan Delos? VP of Delos Inc., and engaged to the -”

“That’s me.” He glanced at the magazine. Of course he’s engaged, why wouldn’t he be? “D’you think that’s a good picture of me?” Chuckling you clicked your tongue, still watching him.

“Your hair looks better in person.” You let out a breath, lowering your head. “I had no idea, Logan, that you were … of course you got the ice cream before the end of your shopping trip, you’re probably not used to…”

“Hey, I’m not helpless, here, I just … I work a lot, and …” Yeah, you work a ton, and … Your thoughts were reeling at the realization that the handsome man you’d helped pick out a card - the one that you’d joked with without thought - was Logan Delos, one of the world’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelors. But he’s not eligible anymore, not since… “Can you believe that I’m on the cover of that goddamn magazine? Just becausea…”

“When you’re engaged to the daughter of the UK’s …” You trailed off. “She’s big news, Logan. And so are you.” Of course he is. “At least now I know why you look familiar.” He winced at that, looking away. No, I didn’t … “I’ve seen you before, Logan. You - and Delos - do a bunch of charity and medical work, right? I’ve seen you on the news, on CNN, I just didn’t…” Tell him the truth. “Didn’t expect to run into you in the middle of the Thousand Oaks Whole Foods on a Wednesday.”

“You saw me on CNN?” Yeah, where else would I… “Well that’s a change.” He gestured forward. “You’re next.” Flustered, you began unloading your items onto the belt, trying to collect your thoughts. Logan Delos? And I … The cashier began scanning your groceries, and you smiled at her, moving your cart to the end of the lane and stepping in front of the credit card machine, digging through your purse. “Don’t worry about it.” Confused, you glanced back at Logan. “I got your stuff. Call it … a thank you for helpin’ me back there.”

“Logan, I can’t -” He shook his head, fighting back a grin. “You don’t need to…”

“I want to.” He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “Like I said, I probably woulda still been’ standing there.” You let your wallet drop back to the bottom of your purse, finally nodding.

“I appreciate it, Logan.” And now I get to tell Jess that I … “Thank you.” He signaled to the cashier, who nodded once, going back to your items. “I’d, uh, say that maybe I’ll see you here again, but…” You lifted an eyebrow, watching him closely. “I’m sure I won’t, since this is a special circumstance.” He laughed at that, too, agreeing with you, and you were struck by how warm the sound was, the way his eyes lit up each time it happened. “Good luck, Logan.”

Your bags loaded back into your cart, you moved all the way to the end of the lane while Logan finished putting his own items - including the melted ice cream carton - onto the belt. “Yeah, I’ll need it.” Leaning over to reach one of the final things he’d chosen, he lifted his gaze, looking up at you through his lashes, one lock of hair barely out of place and falling at a different angle than the rest. Damn, he’s good looking. “Thank you.” You had a feeling that Logan’s sincere thank-yous were few and far between, and he’d said it to you multiple times in the span of a few minutes. At least I did something right.

“Of course.” You have to go, you’re taking up time and space here, and this isn’t… going anywhere. “Goodnight, Logan.” Offering him one final smile, you began pushing your cart toward the exit, still collecting your thoughts. What are the odds…

---

“Hey, Jess?” you were stretched out on your friend’s bed, socked feet resting on the wall above her pillows. “You know Logan Delos, right?” You were scrolling through your phone while your friend got dressed. “The -”

“The tech guy?” She yelled back to you, poking her head out of the bathroom door a few seconds later. “The hot one with the -”

“Yeah.” You read the page you were on, chewing on your lower lip. “I met him today.” He’s only been engaged for a few months, but they’ve … “I -”

‘“Where?” She was back in the room, hands up and next to one ear as she fastened an earring. “Today?” You turned your head toward her, nodding.

“Yeah, I had to stop and get your card, and when I was in Whole Foods, he was blocking the card aisle, so I gave him a hard time.” You darkened your screen as you spoke, sitting up and folding your legs beneath you. “Didn’t realize it was him at first, because I wasn’t expecting him, but I helped him pick out a card for his housekeeper’s kid, and then we ended up in the same checkout lane, and …”

“Wait a second.” She sat down on the edge of her bed, tilting her head to the side. “What was he doing all the way out here? I thought he lived in LA, that’s where he’s always going in and out of that -”

“You know more about him than I do, Jess. But I’m guessing he was on his way home from work or something, or he stopped on his way to the housekeeper’s, but…” Because I looked, and there’s a Delos office over this way, but … “He was alone, and even though he had a dress shirt on, he looked like he was trying to … I don’t know, blend in, and -”

“You don’t look like that and blend in.” She turned her own phone toward you,an image of Logan on the screen, dressed in a full suit and standing next to a stunning redhead in a tight black dress. “I mean look at him. Look at them, they’re going to have great looking kids, and ..” I’m sure they are. “But you met him? What was he like?” He was … really nice. But you waited a few seconds, thinking, and then replied.

“Normal. At least he seemed like it. Seemed kind of overwhelmed, like he hasn’t seen the inside of a grocery store in …” You frowned. “But super nice. I made him laugh.” Jess raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I didn’t realize it was him, so I just… I was joking with him, and being myself, and …”

“I don’t know that I would have been able to say anything to him.” She was staring at her phone again, eyes wide. “Do you realize how …” She showed you another picture of Logan, courtside at a Lakers game, dressed casually - dark t-shirt and jeans, worn boots on his feet. “He’s an actual celebrity, and you just …”

“He paid for my groceries, too.” You shrugged. “As a thank you, because I helped him pick out a card, and reminded him that ice cream does in fact melt outside of the freezer.” Jess laughed at that. “But yeah, that’s my brush with a famous person. Guess you don’t need to go to The Grove to see ‘em, they’re right in the greeting card aisle when you least expect them.” She snorted, eyes still on her phone. You thought of Logan, telling you not to believe what the magazines said about him, that most of it was bullshit. But what did he mean?

You didn’t have time to dwell on it, because there was a knock on Jess’ front door, and the woman jumped up to answer, leaving you sitting up on the mattress, phone in hand. “That’s Max, he’s taking me to dinner!” I guess I’m leaving, then… You stood too, tucking your phone into your back pocket, and followed the woman into the living room, where you found her in her boyfriend’s arms, the man’s lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Get a room, you two.” Jess laughed, pulling away from the man, and you reached for your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m going to go, I just wanted to drop off your card and say happy birthday.” She turned away from Max, holding her arms out and you stepped into them, hugging the woman tightly. “Call me this weekend, if you’re off, and we can go get a drink or something?” I’m sure I’ll need it, the rest of the week’s going to be …

“Yeah, maybe your luck will carry over, and we’ll run into someone else famous.” Jess wrinkled her nose and you rolled your eyes. “Max, she met Logan Delos today at the grocery store, and -”

“Was his fiancée there?” His tone interested - though you could tell he was joking - the man widened his eyes. “That red hair is -”

“Max!” Jess turned away and playfully smacked his chest, his hand rising to catch her wrist and tug her toward him. “I’m right here, and it’s my birthday.” He ducked his head and kissed the woman quickly.

“I’m just kidding, she seems really high maintenance, even if she looks alright.” She looks more than alright, but I agree, she seems like she… From what you knew of the woman - seeing her through the years on gossip websites and MTV, along with magazine covers, you agreed with Max. I definitely know more about her personal life than her career.

You left a few minutes later, smiling as you walked to your car and began driving home. It was a long drive - nearly a half hour from Agoura Hills to Burbank, where your studio apartment was, and you spent it listening to a playlist you’d created weeks earlier, the scenery flying by. Logan slipped from your mind almost entirely by the time you parked on the street in front of your place, but after you’d showered and changed, planting yourself on the couch with dinner, you were thinking about him again. Don’t be stupid. Stabbing your fork into a piece of chicken in your salad, you frowned, narrowing your eyes. You met him for five minutes, it wasn’t a big deal.

Continuing to eat, you flipped through channels, zoning out. It wasn’t difficult to let your mind wander; you’d been busy at work, putting in longer hours than usual, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel there - at least in terms of working over. For a month or two, anyway. Then it’s going to pick up again.

Working in the admissions office for Woodbury University wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was steady work - and it paid decently, since you’d been there for a few years. Paired with the tutoring sessions you did weekly, you made a decent living, and could have afforded more than the studio apartment you rented, but you didn’t see the point. It’s just me. And I’m never home, anyway. Keeping the small apartment allowed you to save money, paying off your other debts at the same time, and you were perfectly content with it. For now. It’s nowhere near as exciting as what Logan does … or what Ariella does. Unwittingly, your thoughts went back to the man you’d met a few hours prior, the easy smile he’d given you, the laugh that had erupted from his lips when you’d joked with him. You’d never know he’s a … You frowned. Millionaire? Multimillionaire? Rubbing at your eyes, you stood, putting your dishes in the sink and returning to the couch.

But we can’t all be tech geniuses or born British celebrities, I guess.

---

Logan tossed back the remainder of his drink, eyes scanning the horizon. From 73 stories above the city of Los Angeles, it felt like he could see forever, even though the slightly smoggy air made it more difficult. Though he was in one of the private cabanas, the curtains were open, giving him a view of the rest of the bar - and everyone there. Typical Saturday. He nodded once at the smiling brunette that brought him another drink, thanking her, but as soon as she’d turned away from him, she slipped from his mind, Logan focused only on the cool glass he held between his fingers, the condensation dampening the pads of them along with his palm. Reminds me of the Mesa. He lifted the drink to his lips, ice clinking against his teeth. More fun there, though.

While Logan didn’t get out to the parks as much as he had previously, visits to the Mesa were still high on his list of enjoyable activities, the hours he spent in the mountainside facility almost as memorable as the time in the parks. But that’s just because I don’t have to pretend. He gave a young man a smile as he walked past, and Logan knew without a doubt that if he’d beckoned him with one finger, the man would have stopped in his tracks, the two of them disappearing back into the hotel where Logan had a room on standby only to emerge the following morning. And she wouldn’t care, but I don’t… He frowned, taking another drink.

His fiancée was thousands of miles away, likely sleeping, and Logan was alone. Like always. He closed his eyes. Wonder whose bed she’s in tonight. The engagement - and subsequent wedding and marriage were nothing more than a smokeshow; carefully orchestrated by his own father and Ariella’s, meaning that there were very few rules he had to follow. Until the ceremony. He’d met the woman a few years prior, traveling to London to meet with a representative for her father’s business - which turned out to be the woman herself. They’d hit it off, finding each other attractive - moreso after a few drinks and some additional stimulation, hand delivered in the form of fine, white powder by one of the woman’s friends. Logan woke up the next morning, one arm around the redhead, and the other around her friend, none of them wearing any clothes.

That night was … probably a mistake. He frowned, taking another drink as his eyes scanned the bar patrons, all of them engrossed entirely in what they were doing and who they were with. I’m usually not by myself here, this is …

The initial deal done and the Delos empire continuing to expand, Logan and Ariella kept in touch, meeting when they were both on the same continent, but Logan had tired of the “extras” quickly, the drugs and the sex boring him, while she only seemed to need them more, embracing the lifestyle that she’d grown accustomed to being the youngest child of a wealthy former actress and businessman. She’s never earned her position with that company, and I … Logan sneered as he took another drink, setting the glass down and cracking his neck. I fought for it all.

The trip to the park with William prior to the first meeting with Ariella had done a number on him - Logan returning to the United States a mess, no one believing anything had happened to him - except for Juliet, and even that had taken time. She’d still married William, still got pregnant only a few months later, but it hadn’t taken the man long to show his true colors, and when confronted by both the Delos siblings, William had folded quickly, agreeing to a divorce with no spousal support, no visitation with his daughter, and no continued association with Delos - or any competitors. That was a win.

Logan finally smiled, thinking of the last time he’d seen the man, Logan unable to contain his anger as he’d drawn his arm back, punching William square in the mouth without saying a word. There’s never been anything more satisfying. He’d been involved with Ariella then - and despite Juliet’s belief in him, Logan was still using occasionally, forgetting everything that bothered him for a night or two a week via some substance, somewhere. It got bad, before that, but after I hit him? After he was gone, and lost everything? It felt better.

He still drank, still occasionally accepted party drugs when they were offered to him, but he didn’t depend on them to get through days, as he had while recovering after being released from the hospital. He didn’t crave the feeling of forgetting his life and the pain he’d endured in the desert, didn’t need the high that came with lowering his nose to the tabletop and inhaling, or putting the sharp end of a syringe against the crook of his elbow. Instead he wanted something more - something that he was beginning to understand that he’d ever have with his intended wife.

Logan was surrounded with people nearly all of the time, but despite this, he didn’t feel connected to any of them, except for Juliet. And even that’s not … it could be… He lowered his head, thinking. Could be more. Should be more. He’d never willingly admit it to anyone, but the thing Logan craved more than anything - money, drugs, sex, opulence - was a genuine interest from someone else that he could return. Anyone found that out, and it’d ruin my reputation. He grinned, deciding that it was time to go; he’d only stopped in to make sure that things were running as they needed to, needing to report back to his father that everything looked good - and everything ran as it was supposed to, the redesign on schedule and as discussed.

He stood, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a bill to leave on the table, though he always drank for free anywhere in the building. Should I stay here tonight, or go back to my place? He tucked his wallet back into his pocket and unbuttoned another of his shirt’s buttons, looking around. Is it worth it to look for … Nah. He rubbed at his beard, looking around again, eyes moving over the well-dressed men and women sitting and standing throughout the open space.

The arrangement that he and Ariella had was that before the wedding, anything was game - for both of them - as long as they could keep it out of the papers. Being discreet was key, and though it was simpler for Logan to blend in places, finding willing partners for a few hours or a full night, he didn’t participate as often as he’d assumed he would when they were ironing out the details. It’s just asking for trouble. And I … Ariella reminded him often that the relationship was only a business deal, that there weren’t any real feelings involved, and that as long as they followed the rules set forth by the terms of the agreement, they could get back to their lives within a few short years, each hopefully a few million dollars wealthier. But that ��

It hadn’t mattered to the woman that Logan never lied - his honesty wasn’t an important factor to her, and in her mind, the relationship itself wasn’t a lie - they were going to get married, they were going to act as though they were truly a couple, and they were both going to benefit from it - along with both companies, too. They need us more than we need them. He began walking toward the exit, sidestepping people every few feet. We could more than get by without the hotels, but they … they need the resorts, and the Mesa, they need the… He paused as he caught sight of someone sitting near one of the large panes of plexiglass against the outside wall of the bar, his eyes widening. What are the odds?

He took one step forward, tilting his head to the side, and tried to decide whether or not he was going to continue approaching, or simply walk by and through the doors, heading to the elevator. There are millions of people in this city. And I’m 45 minutes away from where I … Logan poked his tongue into his cheek, narrowing his eyes briefly. Fuck it. He quickly stepped toward the table, clearing his throat, eyes moving over the woman’s face, assessing it even though it looked entirely different beneath the low lighting and against the black sky behind her than the first time he’d seen it . “You were right.” He paused as the woman - and her friend - stopped their conversation, both turning their heads to look at him. “The card? The ice cream? He loved ‘em.”

---

Logan? You were shocked to see the man again standing in front of you, this time dressed more casually than he had been in the store. You took a moment to answer, eyeing him and noting his appearance; less product in his hair, shirt buttons undone enough to expose an inverted V of pale skin at the base of his throat and the top of his chest, no jacket in sight. Say something. “Did he laugh a the card?” You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Did he get it?” The man nodded, stepping closer to your table as someone pushed past behind him, and you quickly moved your glass away from the edge of it, giving him space to rest his hands if he needed to. He’s not staying, he’s going to …

“Are you going to introduce me?” Jess’ voice interrupted your thoughts, and you waited until Logan’s eyes moved from you and to her to blink, letting out a breath that you were almost positive he noticed you release. “I -”

“Logan. Logan Delos.” He held out his hand to your friend, the woman taking it eagerly, unable to hide her smile “And you are?”

“I’m Jess.” She bit her lip. “We’re out for my birthday.” Logan glanced back at you, but then focused entirely on the other woman, leaning in closer.

“Well, then, Jess,” he wet his lips, the action not going unnoticed by either of you. “Happy birthday.” He raised one eyebrow, the smile on his face growing. “Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” What is he…? Logan turned back toward you, expression changing as he gave you the same smile that he’d given you in the store. It’s not as bright as … not as fake. “Both of you? If that’s alright, of course. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“We just got a new round, Logan.” You spoke quickly, eyes flicking to Jess, who was watching you in shock, confusion in her eyes. “I -” His eyes flashed, but his smile didn’t falter, the man lifting one hand to run his fingers through his hair. He already bought my groceries, he can’t…

“Sure.” Logan blinked. “I get it.” No, that’s not… “Let me at least tell the bartender that I’ll cover your -”

“Oh, come on.” Jess spoke again, leaning across the table toward you. “Let the man buy you a drink, it’s not like he’s asking you to jump in bed with him.” Your jaw dropped at her words, but she didn’t give you a chance to reply. What is she … that isn’t … he’s engaged. “I’ll take you up on that, Logan, and thank you for it, even if she doesn’t -”

“I really don’t want to interrupt.” He straightened up, eyes back on you. “I just thought that I’d offer, since … well, the chances we’d run into each other for the second time in a week are …” Nonexistent? “I …” He looked out of his element - only slightly - but you watched him collect himself, the easygoing smile disappearing, replaced with one that was just a little too formal. I offended him. I was just trying to …

“Logan.” You closed your eyes and reached out without thinking, your fingertips finding the rolled cuff of his sleeve, situated slightly higher than the middle of his forearm. “I’d love to have a drink with you. We’d love to have a drink with you. Thank you.” I just don’t want him to think that … The man visibly relaxed, and you wondered how often - if ever - people told him no, and if he reacted the way he’d reacted to you each time. You took a deep breath as Jess cheered quietly, not looking away from the man. “Here, let me change seats, that way you don’t have to -”

But Logan was already moving, stepping around the back of your chair, the pressure of his hand against the backrest pushing you forward slightly as he edged between you and the chair behind yours, going for the vacant seat between you and Jess. “Nah, it’s fine. This way I can still see the bar, an’ the waitresses can see me.” He didn’t say it smugly, but you realized as he spoke that Logan knew that the staff was looking for him, wanting to ensure that he always had a drink and was never waiting. It must be … He settled into the chair, back to the city, and instead of leaning back, Logan leaned in, taking a deep breath. “Watch.” He settled one elbow on the table and then lifted two fingers, one eyebrow raised, and before you had a chance to get a good look at the onyx ring he wore on his little finger, a waitress was tableside, asking him what he wanted. Jesus. That didn’t even… “It’s her birthday,” he spoke quickly, thumbing in Jess’ direction. “So whatever she wants.” With a nod, the woman looked at your friend, waiting. “I’ll…” Jess put a finger against her lips in thought. “I’ll take one of the Orion’s Polomas.” Tequila, Jess? Is that a… But the waitress was already tapping onto a small tablet, her eyes moving to you next, waiting. I have to order something, I feel like he’ll be offended if I don’t, and that isn’t … You glanced down at the menu, eyes scanning it.

“The Supermoon sounds good.” You glanced up at Logan, noting that he was watching you, dark eyes focused on your face. That’s kind of unsettling, but … “Can I get one of those, please?” The waitress nodded, and before you could thank her, Logan interrupted.

“I’ll take one of the Supermoons, too. You might as well make it a pitcher.” A pitcher? That’s too many… But the woman typed that in, too, and then turned to walk away from the table, short skirt showing off her long legs in the low light. Logan didn’t wait for her to get too far away before he shifted in his seat, saying Jess’ name. She leaned in, still smiling at him, but you saw that the expression was much more relaxed than it had been. She’s still kind of starstruck, but… she’s better now. “What else are you doin’ for your birthday?” Logan’s eyes flicked to you and then back to your friend. “She said she was buyin’ you a card the other night, and then coming over, but -”

“I went out to dinner with my boyfriend Wednesday, and I’m seeing my family next week, but …” She kept talking and you zoned out, looking over Logan’s shoulder and out at the horizon, the twinkling lights of LA partially distracting you. Absently, you listened to the two of them talk, waiting for your drinks, though you also kept an eye on his face and the way his low, smooth voice carried to your ears. Of all the people to see twice in a week, of course it’s him, and… While you watched him out of the corner of your eye, you tried not to stare at the way his cheek twitched every time Logan gave Jess a smile, or the way his eyes focused entirely on whoever he was talking to, only briefly moving at the approach of someone new. The waitress must … You watched Logan’s eyes follow the movement, though he kept speaking with your friend, and you turned toward the woman as she approached the table, a tray with three glasses and a pitcher balanced on it.

Smoothly, she set each item down, eyes lingering on Logan as the pitcher slid across the table’s surface, his hand reaching out, long fingers closing around the handle to lift and pour it. “Thanks, darlin’” You couldn’t help it and sucked in a breath as the word left his lips, your fingers flexing against the tabletop. I wasn’t expecting … But if anyone else heard - or saw it happen - they didn’t say anything, Logan looking up from the ice cube filled glassware and back at the woman. “And is the kitchen still open? I just realized I haven’t eaten tonight, and …”

“Of course, Mr. Delos. The kitchen’s always open for you.” She nearly purred the words, pushing her already full lips out as she finished speaking. “What can I get you? Would you like -”

He didn’t even pause before he answered, eyes on what he was doing as the liquid transferred from the pitcher to the glass, condensation already dripping down the surface of both. “Prawns and potstickers. The prosciutto?” He finally looked up, eyeing Jess first and then you, head tilted to the side. “That alright? Will you eat -”

“Yes.” You answered him and then looked at the waitress, smiling. “Sounds perfect.” How’d this go from one drink to food and a pitcher? But you didn’t ask out loud, instead extending your hand toward the man as he slid your glass toward you before filling the other for himself, lifting it and gesturing toward Jess in a toast. This isn’t what I would have expected from someone like Logan. But as the first taste of the drink hit your lips, strong but not overwhelmingly fruity, you realized that you didn’t know what you’d expected from Logan. I didn’t expect anything, did I?

---

I didn’t mean for this to… He took another drink from his glass, looking over the table between you and your friend, the second woman swaying slightly in her seat. I shouldn’t have. Logan was sober - he’d only sipped at the drinks he’d poured for himself after the second, letting the ice melt into them over time, and while your friend had continued to drink, you’d slowed yourself down, too. She’s bein’ smart about it. You were watching Jess somewhat warily, and though you didn’t say anything to the woman, he knew that you were mentally preparing to get her home, making sure that she was alright. People did that for me, too. But not enough of ‘em, they were too…

You’d eaten when the food came, thanking him again, and though the three of you had talked throughout the time you’d been sitting at the table, Logan was frustrated. This is bullshit. He raised his glass to his lips, taking a long drink, and though he could still taste the mint and lime, it was masked by the melted ice, the small, remaining cubes knocking into his teeth. But what is bullshit, exactly? Logan heard you speak, his attention focused back on you, watching as you reached a hand out to touch your friend’s arm. “Jess, we should probably think about calling a car, it’s a while back to my place, and -”

“It’s still early!” She wasn’t quite slurring her words, but Logan saw the expression on her face and the look in her eyes, recognizing it from his own experiences. You’re right, she needs to… Logan again raised two fingers without speaking, and within seconds, the same waitress was back at the table, lips pushed together and eyeing Logan with a look that he knew all too well. Do I know her? I feel like I … He furrowed his brow for a few seconds and then sighed. “Can we get another pitcher, but of water this time?” Both of you stopped talking, and Logan felt your eyes on him, though Jess let out a quiet whine. Yeah, I get it, but… “And the check, whenever …”

“I’ll bring that water right out, Mr. Delos, but you know that you -” She shifted her shoulders, pushing them back. “You know that it’s always -”

“Not this time.” He used one finger to indicate the table. “Everything from before I sat here, too.” Her eyes widened, but she nodded, the smile never leaving her lips as she turned. I think I probably … “And before you argue with me,” he said, turning in his chair to face you. “I got it.” You mouthed the words “thank you” and then turned back to your friend, who was still complaining quietly, though there was nothing behind her words. As the waitress brought everything back to the table, handing the sleeve with the bill in it straight to Logan and setting a new pitcher and glasses down before she began clearing the others, Logan heard a phone ring and watched Jess fumble in her purse, pulling the device out as she stood.

“Max?” The woman swayed slightly on her feet and then collected herself, holding the phone to her ear. “You’re never going to believe…” She pointed with one finger and you sighed, nodding as she began to walk toward an open seating area that was less busy than where you were, though it wasn’t out of eyesight. She’s a good friend. Logan opened his wallet and put a few bills into the sleeve, closing it and setting it at the edge of the table. Not at all what I thought tonight was going to be.

“The one night I’m not happy that I don’t live close by.” You groaned, putting your head down on your bare arms, which were folded on the tabletop. What? “I live in Burbank, and it’s only about twenty minutes, but she’s gonna…” You peeked up, wrinkling your nose. “She gets…”

“Carsick?” He leaned back, elbow resting on one corner of the back of his chair. “She was drinkin’ tequila.” You straightened up, laughing, and Logan stared at you while your eyes were closed, feeling himself smile. It’s different when it’s just the two of us, it… “How you gettin’ back?” He paused, thinking. “I can get you guys a -”

“Logan, no.” You stopped laughing, pushing the strap of your dress back up and over your shoulder from where it had slipped down. “You’ve already done more than enough, she’s going to tell everyone for the next year that Logan Delos bought her birthday drinks, and …” You rolled your eyes. “If she pukes in the Uber, she pukes in the Uber, and I’ll just make her pay me back.” She’s a really good friend.

“You know, I have a…” He spoke without thinking, the idea occurring to him suddenly. “I’ve got a room here. I’m not stayin’ in it or anything, but since this is one of the Delos Destinations property partners, I can get a room whenever I…” You opened your mouth to turn him down, but Logan didn’t let you. “I’ll walk you down, give you the key, an’ that’s it. You won’t have to worry about anything when you leave tomorrow mornin’, and you guys can take a car home without worrying about -”

“Logan, that’s unnecessary. You don’t even…” You weren’t looking at him the whole time you spoke, your eyes flitting through the crowd until you found Jess, the woman sitting on one of the green benches, legs crossed at the knee as she talked on the phone. “You don’t even know us, and you’re offering …”

“I know what it’s like to have too much to drink an’ then haveta try to get home.” He scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Trust me, it’s not a big deal. And since I’m the one that bought you all this alcohol, I feel responsible.” Where the fuck is this coming from? “I’m offering.” She’s gonna say no.

“Logan, I…” But he heard you swear under your breath, standing and leaving the table, moving in the direction that Jess had walked off in. Wh- But he followed you with his eyes, watching as you hurried over to the woman, one arm looping around beneath her arms as hers went around your shoulders. He stood, hand moving through his hair and walking over to you. “I’ve got her.” But Logan met your eyes again, watching as you closed them, giving him a nod. “We’ll stay, if it’s…”

“Yeah. C’mon.” He led the two of you through the crowd, and despite the fact that Jess was unsteady on her feet, there were no issues, Logan swiped his keycard at the elevator and urged the two of you in with him before the doors closed, the woman slumping against you once inside. “Hey, let me help you.” He could tell you wanted to turn him down, but you nodded again, and Logan’s arm replaced yours around the woman’s, his hand making contact with yours briefly as you switched places. Jess leaned against him, Logan holding her tightly, and by the time the doors slid open again, Logan had handed you the key, pointing you in the direction of the room. “They switch me out between the suites on this floor, an’ they told me which one was ready for me tonight when I got here.” It’s excessive, but …

The three of you stopped in front of the door to the Presidential Suite, and when Logan heard the quiet hum of the lock, you pushed the door open and stepped in before him, one hand reaching out to flip the light on. He’d followed countless women into hotel rooms in his life, had led even more into them, but when you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure he was following with your friend, Logan felt only confusion. I know nothing’s going to … but this … “I think I’ve got her from here, Logan.” You spoke as he helped the woman through the living area, bypassing the couch and heading straight for the door to the bedroom on the right. “I don’t -”

“It’s just a little further, it’s fine.” Jess squealed when she saw the bed, perking up and stopping in her tracks, kicking both shoes off. Yeah, they’re pretty comfortable, I don’t mind sleepin’ in them either, Jess.

“We’re staying here?” She pulled out of his hold, turning back to face Logan, a wide smile on her face. “I didn’t -” But he watched as the look in her eyes changed, one hand rising to cover her mouth, and without pause you again darted toward her, bumping into Logan as you rushed past him, pulling the woman toward the bathroom with another whispered apology under your breath. The door closed behind you, and only a few seconds later, he heard the sound of Jess coughing and water running. She was right. On autopilot, Logan turned toward the closet, pulling the hanger with the robe on it off the rack and heading toward the bathroom door.

He knocked twice. “There’s a robe out here if she needs somethin’ else to wear. I’ll leave it hanging on this chair.” He heard you reply with a thanks, and then Logan turned and left the room, walking into the open space of the living room after pulling the bedroom doors closed behind him. Rather than sitting on the couch, he stepped through the room, switching the lamps on. I should leave. I got ‘em here, I should go down to the lobby an’ call a car back to my place, and … But he didn’t, instead staring out and over the city, one hand in his pocket, the rectangular shape of his phone beneath his palm.

He hadn’t heard from Ariella in two days, and though it was barely midnight in Los Angeles, it was morning in London, meaning that there was a possibility that she was awake. He pulled the device out, opening their messages, but when he saw that the last one he’d sent earlier that afternoon still hadn’t been opened, he darkened the screen, putting it back into his pocket. Of course. Their arrangement wasn’t ideal by a long shot, but Logan had endured much worse in his lifetime, and for the sake of Delos - and keeping his word - would honor the deal he’d made. Even though it’s bullshit. He sighed, rolling his neck from side to side, watching as the lights twinkled in the distance.

“I’ve never seen LA from this high up.” He turned from the window, seeing that you were standing in the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. “I mean, from a plane, yeah, but … We went to Spire tonight because Jess told me that it’s one of her favorites, but I’ve never…” You stepped forward, head shaking back and forth. “And this room?” You threw your hands up, rolling your eyes. “It’s three times the size of my apartment. And there’s a fucking piano?” Well, yeah, there... “Logan, this is…” You were only a few feet from him, standing in front of the window next to the one he was at, eyes out on the cityscape as you trailed off.

“Jess alright?” He ignored what you’d been saying, trying to get you to think about something else. “I’ve been there myself, but it wasn’t alcohol, it…” He bit down on his lip. Shit, she might not have … “I’m sure you’ve seen the -”

“You told me not to believe everything I read, Logan.” He looked over, surprised to see that you were smiling at him. I did say that. “But yeah, she’s fine. I made her drink one of those big glasses of water, and I’m pretty sure that aside from that and the ibuprofen I had her take, there’s nothing left in her stomach, so…” You sighed. “If she gets sick in the bed, I’ll pay for the damages, or -” He turned and reached for you before he could stop himself, his fingers closing around your bicep and squeezing gently.

“No, you won’t.” He immediately let go of you, dropping his hand back to his side. “Believe me, even if she does get sick? It’s nothin’ they haven’t seen before.” You let out a breath, head tilted down and eyes focused on where he’d touched you. I shouldn’t have done that. “She really wouldn’t have made it home in a car, though, and at least now you don’t have to worry about -”

“Logan.” You were biting your lip, and he watched as your head rose, a pained expression on your face. “Why are you doing this? You don’t know me - or us, and this is a totally unnecessary gesture. You’re engaged. And you’re not exactly the type -”

“So you did look me up.” He felt disappointment flowing through him, fighting the urge to raise his hands and rub at his eyes. I thought this was… You stepped backwards, hands reaching out until you found the back of the couch, and Logan watched you perch atop it, the pillows moving as you sat. Leave. Leave it at this. Tell her again that all they have to do is wake up and go tomorrow, and then go home.

You swallowed, eyes still on him. “I did, Logan. I knew who you were, like I said the other day, but I guess I …” He watched your grip tighten on the couch, head dropping forward. “I wanted to know more about you, after meeting you?” That’s normal, why are you … “It’s stupid, but … and now we’re here, and I don’t know -” He said your name, cutting you off, and when you finally looked back at him, Logan took a breath.

“I meant what I said when I told you that you couldn’t believe everything that those goddamn gossip sites say, or what’s in the magazines.” He felt his lip curl. “That’s not what I wanted for myself, but I had a couplea rough years, and it’s… it is what it is now. I can only keep so much of it out of the press, but I’m not …” He thought back to the headlines from his benders, the way they’d all speculated that he’d be dead by 30, that his father would remove him from the company, that he’d ruined himself with his habits. But I didn’t. I fucking gave everything… “All that shit? That isn’t really…”

“It’s fine, Logan, you don’t need to -”

“Look, I can leave right now. You guys are safe here, and you can spend the night - order room service tomorrow morning before you leave. I don’t give a shit, it’s all on my account and it’ll be written off.” Raking a hand through his hair, Logan scratched the back of his head. “I’m doin’ this because despite what people might say about me? What they think is true because they see one sidea me and don’t bother lookin’ for more? I’m not just Logan Delos.” Where is this coming from? She doesn’t care, shut up, Logan. “I’m sorry your night ended this way, an’ I’m sorry that your friend’s not feeling that great, but I -”

“Do you want to leave?” Your interruption surprised him, Logan stopping mid sentence. “It seemed like there was another option, but I don’t -” I … He blinked rapidly, eyes on you. I should leave. “Logan?” He pulled his phone out again, checking the time, and seeing that there were still no missed calls or replies from Ariella.

“I can leave right now,” he repeated, setting the phone down on the tabletop after locking it. “And that’s it, just … goodbye, and thanks for havin’ a couple drinks with me so that I didn’t look like an asshole drinking alone at that bar.” Or … He didn’t know why he had anxiety about the next suggestion he wanted to make - he had no reason to. “Or, we could grab a couple beers from the mini fridge and sit out here on the couches for a little while.” Your eyes moved to the kitchen area and then back to Logan, though you stayed quiet. “It’s up to you.” He saw the apprehension in your eyes and took another deep breath, closing his eyes and nodding his head at you. “Look, I’m not propositioning you. I’m not tryin’ to get you into bed, or anything like that, but you don’t look tired, and I’m not in any hurry to get back to my place, so …”

He waited in silence, unsure of what else to say. The truth was, though, that Logan was curious about you. You’d said you lived in Burbank, but he’d met you for the first time in Thousand Oaks. You seemed slightly overwhelmed by the opulence of the hotel room and bar, and had known him from CNN instead of JustJared or Daily Mail. I want to know more about you, and I don’t … You were watching him intently, and Logan returned the look, letting his eyes roam over your face, though he hoped it wasn’t making you more uncomfortable than you already seemed to be. Finally, after a long pause, you stood, taking one step closer to him and reaching up with one hand to tuck hair behind your ear. “Alright, Logan. What kind of beer’s in that fridge?”

---

Tag lists are open!

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lofitowns · 5 years ago

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cleanse me

“ YOU ARE GOOD AND PURE AND EVERYTHING I AM NOT “

pairing. dabi touya todoroki x gn! reader

wc. 1.9k

summary. in which he is death and destruction and you are life and prosperity

tw/cw. blood, wounds

an. i’m really sorry if his characterization is off! i’ve never written for dabi before! also sorry if this isn’t my best,, i had an idea but i’m not sure if it translated well haha

sometimes he wonders why you let him touch you

You first met by accident. It was dark in the city; you could barely see around the corner. You knew you shouldn’t have been out that late. You knew you should have stayed over at your friend’s, especially with all the villains roaming around.

Your limited sight made you miss the man rounding the corner. His shoulders were hunched, and his breathing ragged. You didn’t acknowledge him until he fell in front of you. His body laid across the pavement. You gasped in surprise, kneeling to see what was wrong.

Maybe it was stupid, but you didn’t want to leave him there. Even though you instantly recognized the purple scars and glistening staples, you weren’t scared.

Your apartment wasn’t far, but you were glad it was dark. Anyone would think it was strange to see someone lugging an unconscious body along with them.

You grunted as you attempted to open your door, hoping none of your neighbors would hear your struggle. The last thing you needed right now was someone seeing you bring a villain into your apartment.

Once you finally got it opened, you dragged him into your bedroom and dropped him on your bed. You figured it would be easier to clean your bedsheet than your couch cushions.

You surveyed the damage. His shirt was torn, and you could see blood seeping out of the gashes. You attempted to peel it away from his skin, which in itself was a struggle. When you finally got it off, you wet a cloth to try and clean him up.

There was a multitude of cuts littering the man’s torso and arms; it made you wince. You ran the cloth over his skin, avoiding the staples since you didn’t know how sensitive those areas were.

Why were you doing this? There was nothing for you to gain. You chewed your bottom lip in concentration as the rag soaked up his blood. When he was finally cleaned off, you grabbed some bandaids and wrap to try and stop the bleeding for the time being. There were a few deep gashes, but with no medical experience, you wouldn’t be much help for those.

When you moved him in an attempt to wrap the bandages around his waist, he began to stir. Your breathing stilled for a moment as you stood in waiting. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and they were the most beautiful shade of turquoise.

He blinked a few times before turning his gaze to you. Your lips were parted, and your eyes were blown wide. A deep rumble rose from his chest, falling out of his lips as a chuckle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you were able to come up with an answer, “Fixing you up.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

He looked down at the white bandages, then back up at you, then back at the bandages. You sent him a weak smile, but he shook his head.

“You did it wrong.”

“Oh! Sorry, I just wanted to help...”

His face scrunched up as he sat up fully, hands gripping your bedspread. You reached out a hand to help him, but he pushed you away.

“Get me a needle and thread.”

You sprang up, hoping that there was some in your first aid kit.

As luck would have it, there was.

You quickly brought it back to him, seeing that he had taken the majority of his bandages off. When he saw you, he snatched the items out of your hands and began to work on himself.

You sat on the end of your bed and watched him. His fingers worked skillfully as he sewed his skin together. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were twitching. It was painful to watch. You were sure he had done this many times before.

Even knowing what he had done, you felt sorry for him. You didn’t know anything about his backstory. There were so many things that could have happened to him that lead him to this life. You weren’t here to judge him; you simply saw someone in need and helped them. You wouldn’t have to see him at any point after this anyway.

that night you scrubbed his hands clean twice, and he still saw blood stuck deep in his pores

But things weren’t that easy. He began showing up at your window at least once a week with blood collecting on his shirt.

In that time, you had become better at stitching him up. He showed you and gave you instructions the second time he came over, even though you tried to push him out. He would never say it, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to do it himself anymore.

This night was no different. You had taken to keeping your living room light on and window unlocked just in case he needed in.

It still confused you as to why you continued. He wasn’t giving you anything in return. Maybe it was because you enjoyed his company. But maybe you were just scared.

You heard the sliding of the window and the creaking of your floorboards. That was your cue to gather supplies and put a towel on the bed.

After setting your phone down on your bedside table, you made your way into your bathroom. After grabbing the small box and a washcloth, you turned to make your way back the way you came.

But you couldn’t. Dabi’s tall figure stood in the doorway, looking down at you. He whispered your name as you took in his form, checking for where he was bleeding.

You noticed a few tears in his clothes, but what caught your attention was his hands. They were drenched in red. Your eyes widened as you stared at them.

It didn’t take you long to decide what to do. You reached for his arm and brought him into your bathroom. He moved to sit on the toilet seat, eyes glazed over and staring into nothingness. You ran the tab, holding the washcloth underneath it for a few seconds.

You slowly cupped his right hand, averting your eyes from them to gaze at his face. He stared back at you, watching intently as you began to scrub the red away. The fabric would stain; there was no way it wouldn’t.

It took you more than one washcloth before you could see his skin again. And even after that, he asked you to do it again. His palms were tinted pink and you didn’t know if it was because of the roughness of the cloth or from the blood.

Dabi couldn’t turn his attention away from you kneeling in front of him. All your attention was focused on helping and cleaning him up. It confused him, almost made him mad. Were just stupid?

He knew you weren’t.

The man didn’t know why he still came here. It seemed routine now, he would get into a fight, and he would find himself sitting in your apartment. Your soft gaze would fall over him. Why were you so gentle with him? You were so kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

But that’s why he kept coming back.

You made him stand up so you could inspect the rest of his body closer. In the time that you had known him, he never let you get too close. Sometimes he would talk your ear off, while other nights he would be completely silent. You could never tell what was really going on inside of his head, but you assumed that was how he liked it.

his battle-worn tongue doesn’t say the truth anymore; that he is ruined

The next time he crawled through your window, there was no blood in sight.

You had already headed to the bathroom to grab your supplies while his feet took him to your bedroom. He stared at your bed. Your sheets were bunched up, and he assumed you had been sleeping prior to his intrusion.

“Dabi?” His name left your lips as you stood in the doorframe.

His attention was pulled to you, the light from behind you giving you an ethereal glow. You really were his angel.

“Hey, babe.”

You shook your head at the pet name, “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not. I... I just wanted to see you.”

Your jaw clenched, averting your gaze from him to the box in your hands. His personality had always been flirty, but he had never gone out of his way to see you. He only came over when he had something to gain.

“Dabi...”

His long strides brought him over to you in seconds flat. He raised a hand and tentatively hovered it over your cheek. You shouldn’t even be in the same room as someone like him, let alone let him touch you. But when your eyes turned up to look into his, he knew he was a goner.

It happened gradually, increasing every time he stepped foot into your bedroom. The atmosphere fits you well, he thought. The fondness he felt made his chest constrict, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was a villain for god’s sake.

You felt similarly. There was no doubt he was good looking, even with all his scratches and scars. Your stomach would twist into knots whenever you thought about him. It was always on your mind that one day he would stop coming, be it that he didn’t need you anymore or he lost his life. You never took yourself as someone that would fall for a villain.

After a few moments, you reached up and pressed your hand to his raised on, finally setting it on your skin. He moved forward, the gap between your faces growing smaller. His breath fanned across your face, and you couldn’t take it any longer.

You rushed forward, pressing your lips to his. They were chapped, and his palms were rough, but it didn’t make it bad. You reached up and cupped his cheeks in return, trying to keep him as close as you could. His hands moved down to rest on your waist.

The kiss was shorter than you had expected. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, a small but intimate act. The man kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them, you would be gone, and he would be alone again.

He wanted to thank you for letting him crash into your life, but he knew he didn’t deserve you. You were everything he wasn’t. But you were allowing him to hold you with his stained hands and wrecked body. You were letting him touch you.

No words were spoken as you took his hand and led him over to your bed. You crawled under the covers and lifted the other side, signally for him to join you. Dabi watched your moves intently, fighting an internal battle. Should he mess up your life even more than he already had?

But you wanted this. You wanted him. And while he didn’t understand why, he wasn’t going to leave you hanging. He slipped his shoes off and dropped himself onto your sheets. They felt soft against his skin; he didn’t know the last time he had felt so content.

He turned his body towards you and saw that you were already facing him. You opened your arms, and he fell into them. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and breathed your scent in deeply.

It took him a few moments to hold you back, but when he did, he pulled your flush against him. The pair of you melted into the embrace, the natural heat of his body warming you.

Dabi knew he was never meant to have good things, but maybe this could be the exception.

and he wonders why you let him, the butcher, touch you, the sun.

thank you for reading :) have a good day!

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pulledaroundbystrings · 4 years ago

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Fictober Prompt 3: "I've waited for this."

Fandom: Hermitcraft, MCYT

Characters: Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Rating: General

Warnings: None

It was raining, not just raining, but thunderstorming, with booming thunder and flashing lightning every few minutes. It wasn't a common occurrence in the Hermitcraft world, but it did occasionally happen. And it had been doing so all day.

And inside, Grian sat on his bed, under a blanket, sulking.

Grian hated the rain. It was loud, especially thunderstorms, like today. You couldn't even hear yourself think, let alone try to hold a conversation with anyone else. And it was so wet, it just soaked his sweater and got all through his wings and it just took forever to dry them after that, and they never sat right after he got caught in the rain. And you couldn't see anything, it was almost as bad as night, but at least a torch works at night, not so much in the rain! And it was dangerous! Mobs liked to come out because of the dark, and if trying to fly through rain wasn't bad enough, trying to fly through a thunderstorm was just terrifying, with all the lightning. Nope, rain was the worst. So Grian had sat under a blanket all day, feathers ruffled in annoyance and rubbed out of place by the blanket, grumbling about the weather and wishing it would clear up. But finally, it seemed to have done so. The thunder had stopped a little while ago, and the rain had slowly dropped from a thundering crash to a softer patter, then to a couple of drops here and there, and finally it seemed to have stopped falling altogether. Then the sun peeked through the clouds and they started to scatter away.

"Finally! I've waited for this. I waited and waited for so long and it's finally clear!" Grian hopped out of his bed with a grin and shook the blanket off. He was already stepping outside as he shook out his feathers and within minutes of the sky clearing he was swooping up into the air. He wrinkled his nose as he flew into some of the lingering water droplets in the air. Smart thing would have been to wait more than a couple minutes but it had rained all day! He wanted to get outside. It wasn't enough to soak through his feathers at this point, just annoying.

He saw movement over by Scar's trees and flew over to land delicately on a branch, leaving his wings partially extended to keep his balance on the precarious perch.

"Hi Scar!" Scar startled just a little bit, and looked around for a second before finding Grian in the tree and landing, less gracefully, in a neighbouring one.

"Oh, hi Grian! What are you up to on this fine day?" He smiled as big as always, but he looked soaked. Even his hat was drooping a bit from the water in it.

"Well now that the rain's stopped I can finally get outside." Grian had to look over Scar's wet clothes and elytra with a bit of empathy, getting stuck in the rain was absolutely the worst, even worse than just staying inside all day. "Did you get caught in it?"

"Oh no, I had to go collect some more charged creepers." Scar laughed at Grian's expression as he flashed his trident. Alright, no empathy for choosing to go out in the rain, not from Grian.

"Eugh. Not me, no thank you! I am perfectly happy to buy my charged creepers off someone else." Grian paused a second before letting a wide grin cross his face. "So how many times did you die?"

"Only like...twice, or three times...I don't want to talk about it! Getting charged creepers is hard work!" Grian laughed as Scar defended himself.

"I'm kinda surprised there's much demand for them. Especially with how hard they are for you to transport." Grian joked.

"Well," Scar suddenly looked around like he had somewhere to be. "Yes, um, I've sold a few. Very rare item, good for some particular uses, got some purposes in mind for these already. Well, gotta go, lots to do, bye!" Scar took off toward his main wagon as though Grian was going to stop him.

Grian just leaned back to avoid the water spray from his wings as he flew off. He continued looking after Scar for a couple seconds more.

"Well. That was weird. I wonder what he's up to?" Then he shrugged and took back off into the sky. He wanted a proper lap or two around Boatem before he got down to checking the G-Train and starting the next part of his alley. Always so much to do after a rainy day. He wondered if anyone else had been crazy enough to go out in the thunderstorm or if it was just Scar.

#fictober21 #hermitcraft #mcyt #writing #mine

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the-septic-maniac · 4 years ago

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Reunion AU Prologue

SPOILERS FOR ULTRA DESPAIR GIRLS AND TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC

Chapter Masterlist

Komaru and Makoto are at the Future Foundation main building talking. Makoto had mentioned something about ghosts at Hope’s Peak and trying to figure out a way to help them pass on to the afterlife in peace.

(Continues after the cut)

“What about bringing their captive to them to finish whatever unfinished business that they have? After all most ghosts that exist, stay due to unfinished business.” Komaru piped up.

Makoto, with a solemn look on his face, said “ That’s all well and good but we don't even know where half the captives are. Plus the ghosts themselves are stuck in a loop in their last moments which for the blackened ghosts that’s extremely dangerous. You would be literally stopping them in the middle of their execution and you’d probably be extremely hurt in the process. And trust me, I have seen the injures firsthand that those executions did to them. It’s not pretty. Not to mention MY DUMBASS tried to rescue the blackened from their inevitable fates so I have scars from that!” Makoto sounded more and more agitated as he rambled on.

He rolled up his sleeves showing a series of scars and bruises. “The all bruises alone come from the first time I tried to rescue a blackened. I’m surprised my arms and back still fucking function. I’m surprised I’m just alive in general after all this” Komaru held onto Makoto’s arms and took a good look at them. Large bruises, lightning-shaped scars, and burns covered Makoto’s arms.

Makoto was shaking from the memories. “Leon… Mondo… Taeko… I tried to save them from their fates as Blackened. Even though they killed, they didn’t deserve such horrid fates!” Makoto ripped his arms from Komaru and clung onto his head, large tears streamed down his face as he started to sob loudly. Komaru backed away, bumping into Yasuhiro and Kanon, who were checking to see what was the matter.

Yasuhiro rushed over to Makoto to try and help calm him down while Kanon questioned Komaru about what was going on. “I was just giving him an idea on how to put the ghosts of the killing game to rest and I suggested that we used the captives so that they can do whatever unfinished business that they have and move on to the afterlife so that they don't have to be in a horrid continuous loop of being killed over and over again.”

Kanon’s breath stopped momentarily before it continued but it was shallow. Kanon looked down, her face covered in shadow. She sadly chuckled “Here’s me thinking I was over Big Brother’s death, but here's the opportunity right in front of me to possibly see him one more time.”.

Komaru looked at Kanon with a concerned look on her face when she remembered one of the items that she collected with Toko. “This must be yours then. I found it on a train when I was walking around Towa City.” Komaru handed Kanon a small notebook. Within the pages, it had the same thing written in it over and over again. “Thanks, Komaru but… I would've rather have forgotten this existed. It's a part of me that I need to get rid of desperately. Maybe if we do end up doing this ill tell ya some of my past or at least what is considered my past. Not much of my past was I not thinking about Big Brother… It's quite sad looking back on it.”

On Yasuhiro’s end, he was trying to calm Makoto down. Apparently, it wasn't too uncommon for him to have episodes like this whenever the blackened were mentioned to him. Yasuhiro called his mom over and Hiroko held Makoto in her arms, trying to calm him down like a loving mother and their child. Makoto and Komaru still have no clue where their parents went to. Takiaaki came rushing in as well. He knew those kinds of cries and screams anywhere.

Hiroko and Takiaaki both were comforting Makoto now, trying to tell him that everything was alright. They took Makoto into the other room to help him. Kanon and Komaru explained to Yasuhiro what was going on. “ it could work but like Makoto said it would be dangerous. But to be honest it's necessary. Those ghosts have been suffering for a long time. It's time they move onto the afterlife. Makoto should stay here. Seeing the executions happen may or may not cause him to go into another episode. While I was there as well for the executions, I never attempted to do what he did but nor did I try to stop him. But first, we’ll need to track the captives needed.” Yasuhiro pulled out a laptop and begun to look up some files. A few moments later, a few head scratches and keeping Kanon from putting random stuff in his hair, the files that he needed showed up. “Looks like we just need to find Takimichi and Tachi.”

Komaru looked downwards. “About Tachi… He’s actually dead himself. I don't know if he formed into a spirit or if he passed on. But he did say before he died that he wanted to see his kid. Maybe if we were to find his anchor we could reunite him and Chihiro?”

“Maybe it just might work.”

Kanon, Komaru, and Yasuhiro said goodbye to Makoto, Hiroko and Takiaaki. “We’ll be back before we head to Hope’s Peak to have the reunions and to grab the other captives necessary. Komaru and Kanon both have their hacking guns in case one or the other runs outta ammo. See ya.”

Next chapter

#danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #ultra despair girls #komaru naegi #kanon nakajima #yasuhiro hagakure #prolouge #dangan ronpa #ultra despair hagakure #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa au #reunion au

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johnbernsteinx · 4 years ago

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INTRODUCING: John Bernstein

“To create is to live twice.”

THE BASICS

Full Name: Jonathan “John” Bernstein Age: thirty-seven Birthday: August 9th, 1983 Zodiac: Leo Sun, Leo Moon, Virgo Rising Occupation: Gallery Manager and Curator at the Crescent Harbor Art Gallery Length of Time in Crescent Harbor: seven years Neighborhood: Goldfinch Valley [view his apartment] Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Pansexual Relationship Status: in a relationship with @quinn-hawthorne Qualities: creative, nurturing, open-minded, loyal, driven, kind Flaws: pretentious, impatient, compulsive, nervous, stubborn, proud MBTI: INFJ-T “The Turbulent Advocate” Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Enneagram: Type 6 “The Loyalist”

THE FAMILY SITUATION

tw: foster care, adoption

John spent his childhood growing up in the foster care system, going from home to home until he was six years old. He doesn’t know his biological parents but is very close to his adoptive parents, which is why he usually refers to the Mannings as his mother and father, despite not being related by blood. The family fostered other kids as well, so there was always someone around. They had two biological children as well, who John also considers his siblings. His youngest adoptive sibling, Rose Paisi (@rosalindpaisi), recently moved to Crescent Harbor which he is incredibly excited about as they are very close.

THE LOOKS

Faceclaim: Dan Levy Height: 5'11’’ Hair Color/Length: black and short, usually neatly coiffed, curly if without product (aka never, unless you live with him or catch him off-guard) Facial Hair: John usually doesn’t go for a clean shave ever. He’s always sporting some stubble. Eyes: brown Complexion: clear, warm undertones Body: Average/Athletic. John enjoys excerise a lot but also likes to indulge in foods that aren’t considered good. Whether he’s keeping up with yoga, running or some light lifting, there’s rarely a day where he doesn’t add some kind of activity to his agenda, mostly to make sure he’s training his mobility. His frequent walks with his dog will also do the trick. Style: John is very interested in fashion and not at all scared to add some more unique styles to his wardrobe. More often than not, he sticks to a rather casual yet formal style, mostly due to his job but also because he likes to dress well and feel good about the way he looks. He’s usually sticking to high quality, if not designer, sweaters or dress shirts with a nice pair of pants but will also wear a good pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt occasionally. He also loves a good print. The man always looks very put together. You can find some outfits here. Smells Like: Considering his habit of going for runs in the mornings, John usually never leaves the house for meetings or errands unless he’s freshly showered. He hates nothing more than being smelly or dirty even, so he tends to smell fresh with a hint of cologne.

THE STORY

tw: foster care, motorcycle accident, injuries

Jonathan “John” Bernstein grew up in the foster care system and moved into a foster home in Toronto when he was already six years old but it was there where he finally got to experience what being a family was all about

He never met his biological parents and isn’t sure whether or not he’d like to some day. He’s in the process of trying to figure out how to go about looking for them, just to know but without success so far. He hasn’t told anyone about thsi and thinks it’s better to keep it close to his chest for now.

John is a very kind and very passionate person. If he’s excited over something, you’ll know! He doesn’t only get excited about things directly tied to himself though but about other people’s interests and successes, too.

The people around him either love him or hate him for it because he will go on and on and never stop until you tell him to. He always likes to indulge in rather intense conversations as it is and will go out of his way to help anyone with patience and kindness if they have any problem at all.

His intensity paired with his overall level-headedness is very useful when it comes to his profession though because he’s a natural at being a salesman who is always eager to network which makes renting and buying art for the gallery to help it extend and thrive an easy task (if you ignore the amount of overtime he collected over the past few years).

So basically, he’s a big softy who loves art in all shapes and forms and will go on about it to anyone for hours if they let him or dare to step into the gallery.

He moved out to Vancouver right after high school to go to university. He majored in visual arts.

When he was 24, John was involved in a crash with his motorcycle that left him severely injured and in a coma.

He made it through but the accident threw him into a spin and basically had him starting at zero. The healing process took a whole year because of complicated fractures and nerve injuries that he needed a lot of physical therapy and rest for - which only made John realized that he is not as good at taking care of himself as he thought he was up until then.

Jonathan feels incredibly fortunate to have survived the crash, despite the fact that it left him with some issues to this day. On his worse days, he’ll have a slight limp due to a hurt nerve in his leg and a pelvic fracture. He also suffered a minor motor nerve damage in his wrist which makes it hard for him to create art himself or do basic tasks, really. It keeps him from being able to lift heavy items or do other basic tasks due to the lack of strength and control. He learned to live with these remaining injuries and doesn’t really let them stop him, unless he pushes himself too hard and has to give in. He was also left with quite a few scars scattered across his body but considers them a small price he had to pay if it meant he still got to come out of it alive.

He loves to travel and did quite a lot of it after his recovery and before settling in Crescent Harbor where he’s been living for the past seven years.

John traveled to and worked in Tokyo and London the most and got a lot of his experience when it comes to galleries from his time there.

These days he’s gotten too busy and caught up in his work to even think of taking a vacation which is bad but the workaholic in him would say otherwise. Maybe it’s that or his inability to give up control - the man just needs to relax!

Despite growing up and becoming a lot more confident as he got older, John is still very soft-spoken at times but always polite and definitely happy to talk to anyone. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention and tries to stay in the background more, even though he’s not as shy as he used to be.

Overall, he’s a very friendly guy and tries to help anyone who might have a problem but don’t make him mad - the switch flips slowly but surely.

When you are in his circle though, he’ll do anything for you. He made quite a few friends in his years of living in Crescent Harbor due to that but his best friend and confidante is Diana Blackwood-Amari (@diana-amari).

Right now, he’s busy house hunting with his partner Quinn Hawthorne (@quinn-hawthorne), while also trying to navigate the ups and downs that come with being in a long-term relationship after having stuck to his own company for longer than he’d care to admit. Lets just say, communication is not their strong suit but they’re learning.

To sum it up: he’s soft, warm and friendly, very interested in art in any shape or form and just wants to be your friend if you let him! Just don’t disrespect him and you’re golden! Otherwise, you might get a pretty intimidating side-eye and a snarky comment or two.

Also, he would die for his dog, a Dachshund-Corgi mix named Merlot, and so would I tbh.

Find John’s wanted connections here, his full stats here, some musings here and his full bio here. 💕

#crescent:intro #( intro. )#( muse. )#( about. )#// i wanted to give this a quick lil update since i've been playing him for over a year now and some details were missing <3

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into-crazy · 5 years ago

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More to the Madness Pt. 8

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: You and J throw some knives after your sex sesh. With the night off, you engage in a twistingly fun time together.

Warnings- Cursing, self-conscious thoughts, brief harassment(not from you or J), violence, murder

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

Redressed in your red attire and shoes, you glanced at your discarded underwear. Torn completely to shreds. Collecting the fabric pieces, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact that you will now have to go commando the rest of the night. Which is quite comfortable. The only downside being you'll have no breast support. Poor girls. You stuck the futile garments into your boots. You'll dispose them later.

No traces left behind.

As for your bodily fluids in the mattress, grimy as it sounds, you have no choice but to risk leaving them to dry up and hopefully be forgotten with the building. Not like you have a sponge and a bucket of bleach on hand. You excused yourself from the bedroom to freshen up in the bathroom. Luckily the water that still ran in the desolate complex was clean. Actually, you're just lucky there's running water to begin with.

Enclosed in the private enclosure, you quietly observe your post sex state. Facial features blotched out with various colors, much like a paint bomb went off in your face. Murky water fell into the sink when you rinsed your face clean. There was no hope for your tangled hair, you redid the buns best as you could. You weren't sure how long you stood staring at your reflection in silence.

Mere seconds, a few minutes..

Solidarity time to process what happened. Try and calm those bothersome questions running rampant through your head. It wasn't until you heard the hasty knock at the door.

"Hope you're not up to anything sketchy in there." Joker's voice came from the other side, an obvious hint of annoyance in his tone.

You blink back into reality. That's when panic set in. Shit, oh shit! Your makeup is in your car. What are you supposed to put on to cover your face? "N-no," you give a half-assed answer. There's a shuffling noise then the door's barged open.

"Then what's the hold u-" J's words were abruptly cut off at the sight of your face, "-p." Utterly uncovered to him, for the very first time. His eyes scan every single feature, as if he were burning you deep into his memory. He's fully gathered, with a fresh coat of greasepaint. Which no doubt he slathered over the last layer.

You had no choice but to stare back, wide eyed and waiting. Why is he looking at me like that? Is he repulsed, disappointed?

Shooting his glance to meet yours, he smiles before finally speaking. "What's with the ah, shocked expression doll?"

You struggle finding the right response, "I, uh, I don't have any makeup on me." Turning away to peer disapprovingly at your reflection.

J huffs, "you don't need it." He leans against the door frame, closely watching you through the mirror.

Shaking your head, you scoff, "believe me, I really do." It was in the way you said it that made him figure you weren't only referring to confining your identity. Purposely avoiding his gaze. The distaste in how you're looking at yourself, almost embarrassed of your appearance.

Sure. When you're wearing the disguise, you feel like the sexiest, most confident woman alive. Because everything which defines your face, is hidden. Take that off, remove the cover, and all the insecurities flood in. Pinpointing each and every detail to find a flaw in. No matter the times you were told differently. By that sweet old woman at the entrance of your complex who calls you a "beautiful young girl." Or when random citizens heartily complimented your smile. Though it was appreciated, you just couldn't see what they apparently seen.

Joker couldn't grasp the way you viewed yourself. Staring with strong resentment and disgust. And you didn't have to say what you thought- he saw it through you. It didn't make sense to him, he's the one with the scars. The permanent mangled marks embedded in his flesh- protruding from his face, visible even under layers of paint. Yet, not once have you looked at him the way you are right now towards your own reflection. He sees no reason for it, he doesn't like it, and he wants it to stop. Right now.

"Y/n," he sighs heavily, stepping into the small space. The use of your name getting you to turn and meet him as he props both hands on the counter either side of you. "And you should listen to me when I say You. Don't. Need. It." He sternly punctuates every word. "Anyone ah, thinks otherwise can deal with me."

Alas, you manage a half smile, "I think otherwise."

"Well bunny, I guess you'll have to ah, take it up with me. Besides, no one else is gonna have the luxury of seeing my dolls pretty face tonight. Just me." His tongue grazes his lips with the statement. Which earned a genuine laugh from you. No other words needed to be said on the matter, your eyes spoke gratitude for you.

Thanks J.

With that, he left you to finish up. To him, it was becoming awkward, since he's not one for emotional stuff. He thinks it's pointless, there's no room for any of that in his world. He hardly(HUGE emphasize on the hardly) ever addresses his own. Therefore he didn't know how to help you cope with yours. He tried to the best of his abilities, despite how uncomfortable it might have been. Nevertheless, you were grateful.

Joker took the liberty of plucking your harness off the floor. Intending to hand it to you when you came out the bathroom. But instead stopped to marvel at the few selected weapons secured on the piece. He was especially intrigued by the throwing knives. Pulling a blade from it's secure compartment, his gloved fingers traced the smooth finish on both the blade and handle. Crossing your arms, you watch as he examines the item.

"These are something," he notes tussling the blade in his hand, "little small, but they have weight. I adore a girl with ah, unique tastes.. how come I never see ya use 'em?"

Dropping your arms, you sneer, "one, I haven't gotten around to it." Reaching out, you pluck it from his grasp. Positioning it between your thumb and middle finger, index grazing the back. "And secondly," you turn in a stance to throw, flashing him a cheeky glance, "you never ask." With a quick motion, you whip your arm towards the wall releasing the knife. The force sending the blade to pierce into the drywall. A good ole classic no-spin.

He cocks a brow at you, "not bad doll. Not bad." You reach into the next compartment for the other. Since the blades are on the heavier side, you only carry two on you. Which is really all you ever need. Lose or break one, you have replacements. Flipping it over, you wave the handle out for J to attempt.

"Your turn."

"Me?" He staggers, palming his chest in a dramatic manner. You nod, further beckoning the blade, trading it for the harness he still held. He squints at the diminishing look on your face. As though you're eagerly waiting for him to throw a bad toss. "Y'know," he acknowledges, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were ah, underestimating my knife throwing abilities."

"What?" You scoff, a playful expression spreading your cheeks, "what makes you think that? I didn't even say anything." Oh, how true was he. Falsely deny it all you want, you're certain he read it just by the indication across your face. Yeah, he's good with his knives, but how is he when it comes to throwing these bad boys?

Joker let out a sharp sigh, "ya didn't have to say it. Doesn't take much to throw a knife." In a lightning fast action, he launches the segment at the same surface. The sight of the blade actually gouged into the wall struck wonder in you. "Although, we could both agree that some skill would be quite beneficial." There goes that cocky grin again.

"Alright, that was good," you credit him, advancing to collect the pieces. Yanking them from the spots they landed. "Though moving targets are trickier," you tease passing him a second throw, "shame we don't have any of those around." You launch another flawless toss, reveling in the satisfactory form of it sticking into the old apartment wall.

Joker let out a breathy chuckle, "who says we don't," he hurls the blade, it lands inches shy of yours, "how about we go out and fetch us a couple?" A mischievous gleam in his blackened eyes as his tongue grazed past his lips.

You shake your head nonchalantly at his offer, which he was seriously considering. Pity the poor saps who'd fall into that category. "Tempting as that sounds," you return, "wouldn't you prefer letting me in on the next move?" Referring to the upcoming step in his plan, walking to collect for another toss. This time, it required extra effort to extract the blades you nearly flung yourself backwards. Cringing as your still sore from your previous activity.

"Later," J speaks before your throw, which wounds a slightly louder thud. "It can wait, the next job isn't til tomorrow. So we uh, got the rest a the night off." He chucks the blade using an underhand throw, it sticks the mark. Now, he's just showing off. No biggie. You've got a couple tricks up your sleeve.

"Oh do we?" You question as you recollect, "what did you have in mind?" There was a printed copy of a Harvey Dent propaganda poster taped on the wall to the side. A picture of Dent's face with the virtuous "I BELIEVE IN HARVEY DENT" slogan big and bold across the bottom. You tore the flyer from it's place, instead placing it in use as a target.

"Well," J states, "before you came in, I was in the process of ah, relocating." He launches the blade, it lands centimeters from the edge of the paper. Letting out a dissatisfied grunt upon missing the mark.

You hum, "Yeah, I seen that. Anything that involves getting some fresh air, I'm game. Because it's really hot in here." Fanning your warmed cheeks and neck with your free hand.

"Then," he replies, "take your shot so we can go." Motioning his hand impatiently for you to throw a toss.

You flash him a coy smirk, positioning the knife where the blade is between your fingers. Handle pointed away from your frame. A quick flick, you hurl the blade. Sticking the target, the blade piercing the eye of the man on the paper. The strike surprising even you.

"Hm," J sneers, "lucky shot." The low growl a clear indication he's irritated you struck it before he did.

"Yeah," you humbly gloat, a bounce in your shoulders, "was aiming for the neck or chest area, but I'll settle for that one."

To Joker's dismay, his crew failed to leave him a vehicle. So you insisted on taking your car since it was parked only a block away. You left him to finish gathering what he's bringing to the new hideout.

You'll admit, you were a bit wary on letting Joker into your car. Partly because he's not exactly a neat person, nor careful to say the least. In addition, he's bound to draw attention in some sort of way. In the loud and chaotic manner that he can. And you're not in the mood to be chased by Gotham P.D. or the Batman tonight. To say your concern grew when you brought the car around, and he carelessly tossed three large duffel bags into the trunk. Two of which containing nothing but vast weapons, ammo, and explosives.

In the car, you wait. Fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Scanning the area to make sure no one caught either of you or identifies your vehicle.

J was quick with it, slamming the trunk to walk over to the driver's side where you sat. Knocking twice on the window to get your attention. You roll the window down a crack, and he tries the handle. It's locked. He tries again, "Let me drive, I wanna drive."

Shaking your head, you huff, "nu-uh, not a chance. I'm driving."

His gaze narrows as he leans in to speak through the small opening, "I know where the location is." Spoken on the verge of threatening. Like if you don't open that door and comply, you'll pay for it.

"The point of me driving is so that we don't draw attention," you explain.

He waves a finger at you, "fair point."

Joker didn't give you an exact address. He gave directions as you drove, telling you which streets to take and where to turn. This frustrated you because he mistakenly led you down the wrong street at least three times.

"Take a right here.. wait, that was uh, you were actually supposed to turn left."

You sigh, "seriously J?"

Reclining back in his seat, he grins slyly, "had you just let me drive, we wouldn't ah, have this issue." The little shit. Surely this is his way of punishing you for not letting him drive.

Apparently nothing in your car was off limits to him. The components of your glove compartment and console- he messily rummaged through them out of curiosity. He found the black eye shadow and lipstick you use. "So this is what you use for your eyes." He laughs waving the cosmetic in your view, "Hey ah, quick question, you didn't get your inspiration from me did ya?" He motions at the black paint around his eyes.

"No, I did not," you acknowledge, "before we even met I considered wearing an eye mask, but I decided makeup's more fitting. It actually allows me to see."

The street you were currently traveling was eerily quiet. Passing through the sketchier parts of the city, it's to be expected at this late hour. Only sellers and prostitutes occupying the corners. The few that there are anyways, they're in for a long night.

Coming up on a red light, your vehicle slows to a halt. J turns to glance at you, "ya could've ran that."

"Would've, could've, should've," you roll your eyes, "but I didn't."

He nudges your arm, "geez doll, lighten up. I know we're uh, layin' low and all. But have a little fun." Casually listing out, "run a red light, go thirty over the speed limit, hit a pedestrian, something."

See, THIS is why you're behind the wheel.

You were about to respond when a vehicle pulls up by your side. The light is still red, therefore it wasn't suspicious. Joker leaned back, obscuring behind the barrier of your seat to examine the car. You also turn to take a look. Three guys inside- windows rolled down, speakers blasting a tune. Appears they're out for a cruise, possibly up to no good.

Wandering eyes peek into your car and land right on you. You heard their voices as they talk obnoxiously amongst each other, a bottle in each their hands. They're drinking.. great.

"There's a chick in there!"

"Is there?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is!"

Your fingers grip the steering wheel in dread with what's coming next. Though nervous, you keep your cool, you've dealt with it plenty of times before. Just face forward and ignore them, they'll lose interest.

"Hey mami, how's it going?" A man calls. Another whistles at you like one would a dog, "look over here baby!"

You continue to stare forward, you're not concerned about them. The only thing worrying you to the max is having it happen with J sitting beside you. His jaw clenches and his hands ball into tight fists. So hard you could hear the pained squelching from the leather of his gloves. Growing angrier by the second, he reaches into his trench, pulling out his glock.

He goes for the door handle to get out. But your quick hand on his thigh stops him. As he looked back at you, you caught his blistering fury, ready to snap. You whisper, "no J- please- it'll draw attention."

He contemplated between staying in and getting out to handle the situation. His hand on the verge of opening the door as the men continue on catcalling. Words slurred from the alcohol in their systems.

This is the longest red light ever. Turn green dammit! You thought. Since they wouldn't get the hint, you retort to flipping them off. A clearer answer- I'm not interested, leave me alone. That only seemed to spur them on even more.

The man sitting shotgun shouts, "aye, come on baby. Don't be like that." The one in the back blurts, "Yeah, don't be a stuck up bitch! The three of us could give you a good night fuck." He then launches a beer bottle at the floor by your door, the glass shattering, a few shards scraping your car. They retort to laughing amid their own stupidity, going completely over the edge. You were nice enough to let it slide once, had they just stopped. However they chose not to, crossing the line into harassment.

Putting the car in park, you look at J. He's not going to let that slide, and neither are you. Pulling your gun from your thigh, you flash him a smile, "okay, I'm ready for that fun now." In return he grins back, wide and Cheshire-like, knowing exactly what you meant. Forget being subtle, you're gonna correct these disrespectful assholes- together. With a flick, the windows on your side of the car roll down.

Whistling and cheering, the men take it that you're giving in. You smirk darkly at them, cocking your head to the side. How wrong they were. You lean back in your seat, revealing J's presence next to you. If you could pinpoint the exact moment their souls left their bodies, you'd get it spot on. Eyes widening in fear as they see the Joker, you both holding the same spine-chilling expression. Confusion and panic wash over them.

"Ah shit! Hey man, that's the Joker!"

"The fuck is he doing with her!?"

Before they had time to react, you push your seat far back to aim your gun out the back window. J pointed his out the front above you. Savoring the sheer regret in their faces. A couple clicks are heard in the muted air, then you light up the car. The deafening gunshots ringing the street, echoing down the block.

When their movements stopped, you threw your shift back in drive. Flooring it the hell out of there before anybody could make you. Not to mention, the light was still red. The twisted mix of your shared laughter the last thing heard on the street as you drive away.

"Pull over," J instructs once you're a far enough distance from the scene. You comply, swiftly parking by the curb. Heated blood still rushing through your bodies, he grabs your face and kisses you greedily. You grab his wrists, kissing him back. It wasn't until you both needed air when you pulled way, staying close in your embrace.

The light from the lamp posts glows into the dimly lit space. Granting him the bewitching sight of his red spread across your lips panting against his own. It looks good on you. In fact, it'd probably please him if you'd sport his paint remains on your gorgeous lips. Perhaps maybe a lip shade identical to his, because red suits you perfectly. Especially his. He hums as the thought crosses his mind.

"You're mine." He breathes heavily on your lips, thumb swiping your flushed cheek. You trace his wrists in unspoken agreement. "Now scooch over hm, it's ah, my turn to drive." This time you didn't protest. When he got out and walked to the driver's side, you went over the middle counsel to plop onto the passenger seat.

It didn't take long to reach the destination. Within minutes, you arrived. To an enormous warehouse on the outskirts of the city. There are plenty warehouses that harbor the area. Many which currently remain in use, and some that are abandoned. The depot Joker, along with his crew, moved into was definitely one of the relinquished buildings. At least until now.

He parked a good distance from the entrance to the warehouse. Neither exiting the car just yet. "Did you ah," J starts, "did ya wanna come inside? I'll give ya a grand tour."

You take a moment to contemplate. "No, it's late. I better head home. Rest and come back for tomorrow's job- I mean if that's okay with you."

"Geez doll," he scoffs, "it's not like I gotta leash on ya- though we could uh, arrange that for another time if you're into it." His tongue clicking at the suggestive statement. "No- no, I won't hold ya. Ya wanna go home, go. Get some shut eye and be here early."

Joker grabs his bags from your truck while you take your place back in the drivers seat. Arms propped on the frame, you watch him drag the duffels onto the sidewalk near you. Chin lazily resting atop your arms.

"Now I better not find any trackers in my car." You jokingly mock.

"I look like the Bat to ya?" He throws back sarcastically, "don't push your luck sweetheart, you just keep givin' me great ideas."

"Some of which I might consider letting you take me up on." You can do this all night, the playful banter. Constant back and forth with snarky remarks. It's a strong, lively connection thriving between you two that somehow works. You like to poke him, he likes to poke back- harder. And vice versa. It never gets old. Alas, your body is exhausted and in need of sleep. It's quite noticeable, he can read the exhaustion on you. You smile warmly him, "night J."

Spoken so soft and calm, you're unsure whether he heard it or not. He did. Two light taps from his hand on the car's door proved to be. Thus ended your time together, and he stood there to watch your tail lights fade into the darkness before he finally deemed necessary to go about his own way inside the warehouse.

Man, what a night.

End of part 8. I hope this part wasn't too boring. I needed a good break from the smut- having written AND read😅 Anyways there's more to come!

#More to the Madness #joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #the dark knight #fanfic

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readbeneaththelines · 6 years ago

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His Possession Pt. 8

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

A/N: Debts are collected, one way or the other. Unfortunately, you were the collection for your father’s debt.

Yoongi is ruthless, cunning, and obsessive.

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings’ violence, language, this chapter is mainly Yandere Yoongi

Word Count: 2024

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

SWEATY YOONGI IS A BIG MOOD cr. to gif owner

The next morning you were up early, taking a shower and fixing your hair and make-up. You rushed down for breakfast, greeting the men with a smile. Yoongi was at his usual spot, your chair pulled out to his right.

“Good morning everyone!” you greeted them with a light happy tone. They looked at each other, trying their best not to laugh out loud. “Men, be respectful. Y/N, did you sleep well last night?”

“I did. And yourself?”

“Very well thank you. Now we have a meeting this morning, then Y/N and I are going out for a bit. Do you all think you can handle things here while I'm away.”

“Yes sir”, echoed around the table.

“Good, now let’s eat and get moving.” When the plates were cleared you told Yoongi you would wait for him on the back lawn while they had their meeting.

“Why don’t you join us, Y/N? It’s nothing big, and since your here, you might want to know what’s going on.” He looked at everyone else, daring them to argue.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” You were assured you weren't and followed the men into Yoongi’s main study. It’s decor matched Yoongi’s personality to a The furniture had strong straight lines, the wall and floor were dark toned and there was minimal furniture.

They discussed future meetings coming up with other families in Daegu and Busan next week, shipments arriving over the next few days, and a dinner party at the end of the month which Yoongi was hosting. Once everything was written down and covered, the group dispersed and you were left alone with Yoongi.

“You ready to go?” He asked, holding his arm out for you.

“Yes sir” you wrapped your arm with his and you both walked out and to the waiting car.

You had lunch at a small quiet diner, the food heavenly on your tastebuds. Afterwards, he took you to all your favorite shops, waiting patiently as you tried on outfit after outfit. You were thankful that most of his attention was on his phone, answering brief calls, emails, and texts. But the last outfit you tried on got his attention. It was a light blue one piece pantsuit that hugged your curves and dipped low in the back, exposing you from your shoulders to just above the dip at your waist. Yoongi couldn't help but stare.

"Hello, Earth to Yoongi." You giggled when he swallowed hard and looked up at you, cheeks a soft shade of pink.

"Uhh. Yeah, sorry. What did you say?" He looked back at the screen of his phone, avoiding your eyes.

"I asked you if this color looked good on me?" You spun around slowly, pausing when you were facing him again.

"Yeah, it suits you." He said hurriedly, trying to think of anything else except how amazing you looked.

"Good! Then I'll get it. I love this color blue." Stepping back into the changing room, you quickly changed. Yoongi was at the register, waiting, as you brought several outfits back. " I don't have to get all of these, I'll just pick out a few." You started concentrating on the ones that were your favorite. He grabbed them all from your hands, putting them down on the counter.

"We're getting them all."

Relenting, you let him pay for the items, taking the bags before he had a chance to reach for them. "The least I can do is carry my own things" you said, playfully sticking your tongue out at him

. "Fine. You don't have to fight me on that one." He took off, leaving you gaping at him before deciding to catch up. For all you knew, he would leave you behind without a second thought.

"Yoongi! Wait up!" you whined, huffing under the weight of the bags. "Where to now?" you asked, catching your breath as you came up beside him.

"I'm hungry and tired. I'm heading home."

"Oh" you muttered under your breath, slightly disappointed that your shopping day was already over. "Well thank you for today, I know you didn't have to do this and I appreciate it." He simply nodded, opening the trunk for you to place you bags inside. Settling down in the passenger seat, you waited for him to get in. The ride was quiet, you looking out the window at the passing scenery as he kept his eyes focused on the street ahead.

"Do you hate me?" The question can't out of nowhere and took you by surprise.

"What do you mean?" You turned in your seat to face him, looking at his profile as he drove.

"Just that, do you hate me. We haven't really talked about what has happened. You've been cordial to me, and my men. You have, for lack of better terms, blown off what me and the guys have done to you. If I was in your shoes, I would despise me, never wanting to be alone with me." He kept his eyes forward, not looking over at you.

"I have accepted my fate, Yoongi. Do I hate you? I'm sorry, but yes. I cannot forget what you have done, what you put me through. I have nightmares every night. But I have no choice but to feel obligated to do what's best for everyone involved. I don't know how to run a family like you do. If I were to go back, everything would crumble around me. I've been thinking, maybe I should let my family merge with yours. It's your money, after all, and it's owed you. Thing is, I wouldn't know what I would be doing. I'm not as strong as you are, not as smart at handling certain matters as you. Yes, I hate you, but knowing what I know now, I can forgive you, though it's a slow and painful process." You turned to look at him, the pained expression on his face showed you that you had stuck a cord with something you said.

"You will probably always hate me. I've had time to think about some things, and I maybe did go to the extreme, but I can't take that back now. You're smarter than you think. The suggestions you gave at that one meeting has really panned out. I think you could run a family quite competently." He pulled off the road, down a long gravel driveway, pulling to a stop at the end. He turned in his seat, facing you.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry I took your family from you. I don't blame you for hating me, in fact I expect you to always hate me. Remember when Jungkook told you about our connected pasts? He didn't tell you everything. I remember when you were born, I was five at the time. You were this adorable little chubby thing that always had a smile. When we were growing up, I would watch you sleep in your bassinet while our families talked and ate dinners. I watched you take your first steps, held your hand when you went exploring on the beaches during vacations. I adored you, I had this tugging feeling that I should protect you. Throughout the years, it was always you and me when we got together. Then one day, it was all over, you were home with a nanny. They said you had been sick, but later I realized they were protecting you in case something went wrong. Besides my parents, you were the one thing that I feared I wouldn't see again. Finding out it was your family that killed mine, I was angry. Angry and devastated. Three people I loved more than anything, were now gone from my life."

"You loved me?" you interjected, your heart racing at what he was telling you. You didn't remember much growing up, most of those people had moved on and away. To find out that he was such a pivotal part of your life made your heart ache.

"In some crazy way, yes. I wouldn't call it love in the romantic sense, but it was a love that you would have towards someone very special to you. I felt betrayed when I found out it was your family who left me orphaned, so to speak. I even felt betrayed by you for the longest time. I put this whole maddening plan into effect as soon as I could. I waited twelve years to get my revenge the way I did. I wanted you to suffer like I did, I wanted you to hurt like I did. I never once thought that you had nothing to do with this, I was so blinded by rage." He shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts he had carried with him all these years.

"I'm sorry Yoongi. I'm sorry I didn't know what my parents had done. I'm sorry I didn't realize the bond we had then." You hadn’t felt the tears flowing down your heated cheeks until Yoongi wiped one away. You felt an urgency to touch him, taking his hand in yours as it was pressed to your face.

"I'm sorry you have suffered and lived with this anger for as long as you have. I wish I could turn back time."

Yoongi pulled his hand away, causing you to cry even harder. "You can't do that. As much as I would want my parents back, they're dead. Having you with me now, it's not the same as when we were kids. Now, I want you to hurt, like I did in the beginning. I hate the fact that I cared about you then, because my youthful stupidity reared its ugly head for me." Without another word, he was tearing out of the driveway and back into the main highway.

His words stung, the fact he admitted he wanted you to suffer. You had thought the two of you were coming to a mutual understanding. Now, you realize, you haven't made any progress. He hated you, just as you hated him. Maybe his scars were still as fresh as the day his life changed. The rest of the ride was made in strained silence, neither of you acknowledging the other.

Once you arrived at the mansion, you grabbed your bags from the trunk and flew through the front doors and up to your room. Throwing the bags on the floor, you climbed yourself on the bed, red hot tears soaking the pillow. You cried yourself to sleep, not waking up until the next morning.

Yoongi cursed himself for telling you everything. He hasn't planned on it, but he felt you getting under his skin, and he couldn't let that happen. You had left his life once before and he didn't want to get close to you again because he knew deep down you could leave suddenly again. He joined the others for dinner eating in silence as they related the day's events. "I'm going to turn in for the night, I'll see you all at breakfast." He rose, bowing slightly before he left. He showered, dressed in lounge pants and climbed into bed. He vowed he was not going to let you get close, not again. That night he had the same nightmare he hadn't had in years. The nightmare that took his parents and you away, and he was alone and scared.

Your were startled awake by the sound of someone knocking on your door. "one minute" you called out climbing out of bed and heading for the door. Namjoon was standing in the doorway when you opened it, a stern look on his face. "Sorry to wake you, but you need to get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes." Before you could say something, he was gone. You quickly changed, brushed you hair and teeth, then scurried down the long flight of stairs. Namjoon was standing at the bottom, car keys in hand.

"Where are we going?" you asked as you followed his outside.

"You're going home." was all he said as he climbed into the drivers side.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570 @seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17 @kingsuckjin @kpoppingthempills @ina18071989 @btsfluffsmut

#yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst

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marvel-lucy · 6 years ago

Text

The Walking Disaster, chapter 5

There’s really not enough Steve here, which is what everyone actually wants. Sorry. It’s entirely possible I’m a writing disaster.

All chapters are on the Walking Disaster Masterlist

I’m a bit drunk, OK. That’s why it’s happened. I mean, it could have happened to me stone cold sober, but this time at least I have an excuse.

I shove my feet into some shoes yes. Left foot, right shoe; right foot, left shoe. It’s dark too, there’s another extenuating circumstance for you right there. So I’m sat down, I put my shoes on, I pick up my keys from the coffee table, I start walking towards the door, but my feet want to go in opposite directions, then I tread on the toe of one foot with the heel of the other, and fall straight onto the coffee table, smashing it like it was a stunt prop. It’s loud, unexpectedly so. But even as I lie there, surrounded by bits of broken flat-pack, I distinctly hear the sound of Apartment 4’s door shutting, and footsteps walking down the hall.

Lucky escape, right.

There’s a big bit of me, the wine-fuelled, lust-laden, teen-hormone-filled bit of me, that wants to scramble to the door and pull it open, and run after him and accidentally trip and have him catch me in those strong arms, and hold me steady, gaze into my eyes and realise that there I’d been, all the time (well, a few weeks), right in front of his eyes. He’ll kiss me on my nose, and my hair will blow out majestically behind me (except for one bit that will cleverly hide my missing eyebrow) and then we’ll kiss and happily ever after will happen. Yeah, OK, so I’ve thought about this a lot. But then there’s the other, logical, bit of me that realises in this scenario I’ll either miss him completely, or fall and knock him over, breaking his arm painfully, or he’ll catch me, and my hair will blow in my face and stick to my lips weirdly (but revealing my missing eyebrow) and he’ll look kinda weirded out, stand me back up, politely back away and move out, without leaving a forwarding address.

So instead, I lie there, feeling sorry for myself, until I fall asleep.

So now it’s Sunday morning and I feel even sorrier for myself. I wake up in a patch of overly-bright sunlight, hugging a broken table leg. I drag myself up to realise I have wood splinters stuck all over my face. I take a long hard look at myself, pull off my mis-footed shoes, look at my apartment, and sigh.

Long, cold shower. Large, hot coffee. Plain, dry toast. Painkillers. Water. Crack open the window for some cool fresh air. Rethink life. I’m not religious but I offer up a generalised ‘anyone out there’ in the hopes of a little support, just in case. Then I sweep up my furniture, leave it in a garbage bag by the door ready to go downstairs.

Here’s the thing, me. It ain’t going to happen. Life’s not a rom-com, and no meet-cute ever actually happens in real life. The boy next door marries someone else and the girl next door needs to do her laundry. So go do it.

Sunday morning laundry. Has there ever been a greater time to be alive? Super fun right! I collect it all up into a giant bag, and it feels like there’s every item of clothing I’ve ever owned in there. Which is why I’m wearing old pyjama trousers and the scraggiest t-shirt known to man. Dubious stains, badly placed holes, and an advert for some company I’ve never heard of. Yeah, I know, the meet-cute rules say if I’m dressed like this I’ll bump into him, right? But I’ve already told you, those rules don’t apply, so just shut UP brain.

I’m only one floor up, so there’s only two sets of stairs. Down to the lobby, then down to the basement. I’ve got my giant bag trailing behind me, a basket full of washing powder and a book and a cup of coffee juggled under the other arm. The bag slithers behind me, flumping down each step. The coffee sloshes a bit. Here’s the bit where a cute movie girl would slip on the coffee, or accidentally spill her surprisingly beautiful matching underwear all over the boy next door. Luckily my greying undies make it safely downstairs without mishap. I shove it all in the machine, I sit in a chair and drink my coffee and stare at my book for a while, then doze off. Then I shove it all in another machine, doze off some more, then shove it all back in my bag.

Even my own brain is bored at this point, and it’s the one narrating this.

Then I flump it all back upstairs, bumping on each step two flights up, then I get there, and tuck the huge bag awkwardly under my arm as I reach for my keys. My keys. Which I last saw on the coffee table, before I broke it. The coffee table that is in pieces on the other side of my extremely locked door. Fuuuuuuuck. I was doing so well at avoiding the disaster clichés this morning too.

I’m not quite sure how long I stand there, basket in one arm, bag in the other, forehead resting against my door, softly whispering ‘fuck’ to myself. Let’s just say it was only seconds, OK. Allow me that much dignity. But apparently Sunday morning laundry is a thing, so who else do you think decides to do it? There he is folks, it’s Mr Apartment 4, Captain Handsome, the Meet-Cute that never was because we’ve already met and it sure wasn’t cute.

‘Are you… trying to walk through the door?’ He says that as if he actually thinks someone like me might try it. (I have. It doesn’t work. I still have a scar. Don’t ask, it’s a thing). I can’t even be bothered to lift my head up to be honest, so I leave my forehead resting on the door, and just rotate slightly. My hair catches as I turn.

‘Is your eyebrow supposed to look like that?’ I’m so done at this point, that I just smile. This is me, in all my glory. Run while you still can!

‘My keys, right now, are only four inches from my hand. But this door is slightly in the way of me getting them.’ I demonstrate which door I mean by banging on it slightly. With my head. I’m having a bad day, OK.

‘Ah. That explains the fuck. Um. What explains the eyebrow?’ He actually looks concerned, as if he’s genuinely asking, but actually, wait. His mouth is twitching slightly, and I can see he’s trying really hard not to laugh, but this is me, OK. I’m not going to be Nat. So he’s never going to like me, so I’m not going to try and hide it any more. The bag slides out from under my arm and splits as it hits the floor, so my laundry slides like a wave across the hall, a shimmering wave of greying and holey sweatpants and sports bras, all mismatched of course. I put the basket down, and the washing powder tips over, and powder starts to pour out into a tiny mountain, just waiting for miniature skiiers to take to its slopes. I. Don’t. Care. What’s the point in even trying?

This has only taken seconds, of course, and he’s still watching me but now he’s actually smiling. Ok, grinning. Woah, here comes a chuckle.

I turn around, rest my back against the door, and slide down it, until I’m sitting down. My feet knock over the powder mountain as I go, then end up resting in a pile of clothes.

‘I singed my eyebrow cooking. So I cut bangs to hide my eyebrow. Then I wore a cap to hide my bangs. But I was leaning out the window yesterday and my cap fell off. So I’m just wearing this brow with pride now.’

‘And the bandages?’ I look down at the greying bandages wrapped around my fingers.

‘Also cooking. The pile of wood inside my door wasn’t the result of cooking though. That’s the result of putting on my shoes. I am multi-talented in the inept department. I’ve won prizes for incompetence, but I lost them somewhere. I got a medal for most hospital appointments as a child but I swallowed it. I have lost my keys so many times that the super buys them in bulk. I am banned from all glassware shops in a three mile radius and when it’s icy, all local ER departments have a special cubicle set aside for me to have my bones set. My name is used in global alert systems to indicate an above ‘red’ level catastrophe. I am, to use the technical term, a freaking disaster.’

I look up to see how my rambling’s gone down, but he’s not there. Or not where I expect him to be anyway. His head is no longer six foot something up in the air, but is about level with mine. He’s cross-legged on the floor, still with that toothy grin on, but he’s using his finger to poke around the washing powder, and he’s drawn a smily face with it. The bozo. Here I am being woeful and he’s cheering me up.

‘Is your window open?’

‘Um, yeah, why?’

‘So’s mine. You could go out my window, go along the fire escape, and let yourself in. Or, I mean, you could live out here now. Either is fine.’

‘You’re suggesting that I, me, this person here, crawls out of an open window above ground level, walks along a rusting fire escape, pulls open another window, and crawls through?’

‘Yeah. It’ll be fun to watch. I’ll film it for YouTube.’

He’s definitely smiling at me now, but you know what, it’s OK. I don’t feel like blushing, I don’t feel like the butt of the joke, I feel like it’s OK to be chaos personified for a change. So, I scoop up my laundry into the remains of the bag, and I go into his apartment. I’m not looking round, because that would be rude, but my peripheral vision is working way overtime taking it all in. There’s a load of art stuff, easels and paints. There’s a big TV and a laptop, and some unwashed mugs. It’s not that tidy, it’s kind of lived in and nice. Over by the window, there’s a sketchbook, the pages ruffled in the breeze, so I can’t see what he’s been drawing.

He slides the window a bit further up, and I stick one leg over the windowsill, and try to pull the other one over. I teeter for a little bit, but make it safely. Then I make the mistake of looking down. I can see all the way down because there seems to be a lot of holes in this fire escape, and the bits that aren’t holes are mostly rust. But I’ve got this, I can do walking (let’s not remember the times I can’t). I keep one hand on the wall, and try and stride purposefully along, but I’m doing these teeny little steps and when the metal lets out a kind of squawk, so do I.

I turn back for a second, and he’s got his head stuck out of the window watching. And yes, he’s filming it, just in case my plunge to the death can earn him a few dollars. I’d make a rude gesture but I’m afraid of moving too much.

It’s not that far, so even at my glacial pace I make it to the window pretty quickly, then I wedge my fingers in the crack of the window and heave it up. I don’t get it very far, but I just want in by then, so I squeeze through, dangling half way for longer than is elegant, with just my backside and legs waving out of the window. I can definitely hear a snort and I really hope this doesn’t get uploaded anywhere.

Then I’m in, my head all red and sweaty from being upside down, and there’s my keys, on the shelf by the door, right where I’d put them for safekeeping while I cleared up my broken table. I grab them up, and I pull the window open, and I make my way back out.

Yes, you heard me.

I squeeze out of my own window, and I edge along the fire escape as it groans even louder, and the whole time Steve is watching me and doing that thing where you laugh so hard you can’t make any noise, so he’s just clutching at his chest and gasping. Thanks for all the help.

When I get to his apartment, he’s blocking half the window, hanging out of it. I edge past him, trying to get my leg over the sill, but there’s not much room so I end up tumbling through, and slowly sliding headfirst across his floor as my legs come into the room. But I made it. I’m here.

‘You know…’ he’s squeaking, as he tries to catch his breath. ‘You could…. Oh god…. You….’ His hands are on his knees and his face is purple. I pull myself to sitting and wonder if I need to do the Heimlich manoeuvre, or CPR, or give him a shot from an epi-pen or something. Finally he manages to heave in enough air and stands up, wiping his eyes.

‘You could just have opened your door.’

---

@patzammit @melconnor2007 @avengerscompound @kittyslove @badassbaker @phoenix21love @lbouvet @bellenuit45 @prplprincez @gingerrootknits @pineapplebooboo @feelmyroarrrr @avengerofyourheart @eyeofdionysus @hellomissmabel @learisa @mitra-k-w @imhereforbvcky @shaddixlife @supernatural-girl97 @iwillbeinmynest @amrita31199 @algud @whatsbetterthanfantasy @pixierox101 @edward-lover18 @madcheshire89 @heartfulloffandoms @chipilerendi @kenya-17 @mckorni32843 @amandarosemire @rda89 @nyxveracity @sea040561 @mrsalh32611 @ruinerofcheese @callmebucky-doll @vintagepigeon @bubbasmom @sassycanoodler @ladylorelitany @natcad @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @mywinterwolf @moderapoppins @rinthehufflepuff @holyfuckloueh @onebatch--twobatch @algud

#marvel au #steve rogers fic #steve rogers au #steve rogers x ofc

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uncultureddirt · 6 years ago

Text

Day Zero (Part 4/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“It’s cold without you here”

Warnings: Language, angst, violence

It was quiet when you woke up. It always was. Your cot was beneath the only window in the room, which allowed the sun to reach you the moment it began to emerge. Your eyes would slowly open and you’d stare at the ceiling, noting every crack in the old grey paint. Some mornings you’d wake up confused, forgetting where you were, wondering why Jisung wasn’t next to you, breathing too loudly, and holding you tightly. You just couldn’t get used to the empty space beside you.

“Good morning y/n,” your glum mood was interrupted by Rosalee. She was an older woman, probably somewhere in her mid-sixties. She was the head director of the center you resided in. Rosalee was a kind woman; her heart was warm and inviting. When she spoke her voice was smooth and gentle, like drizzling honey. She welcomed you in and tended to you as you needed it. You always appreciated everything she did for you, but you were unable to express your gratitude the way you wanted. Your sadness was overpowering, and you could only muster up the strength to respond with few words.

She sat on the edge of your bed wrapped up in a faded pink cable-knit sweater. She was a tough woman, despite her soft and delicate appearance. Rosalee had escaped the claws of Tartix at the beginning of Day Zero, losing her only two daughters during her time spent there. Once she was on her own, she founded a center for children who were alone or lost during apocalyptic times. There were a couple of branches scattered relatively close, the main facility being about two hours away on foot. The branch you were in was a small low profile building, but it was under intense security, ensuring the safety of its inhabitants.

“Some of the girls are cooking breakfast if you want to help.” She smiled and got up. She never expected anything in return from her kindness. She was one of those genuine people who need not receive a ‘thank you’ for their charitable actions. You watched her small frame move into the front room and thought about her offer. After deciding you would join them in the kitchen, you lifted yourself out of bed and pulled up the blanket, fixing it nicely.

Walking through the large room quietly, you were cautious not to disturb any of the younger kids who were still asleep. You were wearing one of Jisungs big flannels. When you first arrived Rosalee urged you to throw it out as it was covered in ash and blood. However, after seeing your emotional attachment to the old flannel she washed it and returned it to you.

“I hope he finds you.” She had said when handing over the freshly cleaned shirt.

You walked into the kitchen to find two of the girls around your age working. Both of them were nice, and even though you kept to yourself most of the time, you liked them. One girl, the freckled one with long red hair heard you enter and looked up.

“Y/n, hey!” said Emi.

“Hi,” you smiled lightly. Everyone at the facility understood that trauma caused by the apocalypse varied from person to person, so they never held your quiet manner against you.

You sat at the counter and began to talk, “You guys need any help?”

“No, we’re just about done. Thanks though,” the taller girl with her head shaved, Zola, replied.

You looked down and let the sound of oil popping in the pans fill your ears. The girls began talking again, occasionally asking you questions and bringing you into the conversation. It was hard to occupy yourself when your mind was stuck on him. Each passing day reminded you how alone you felt. What hurt most was the lack of closure. You didn’t even know if he was still alive. You clutched the edges of his flannel as you thought. The sadness would hit you randomly, and apparently, it decided to strike then and there.

“Y/n, you okay?” Zola sat next to you, “How long has it been today?”

“Almost two years,” you paused and rested your chin on your hand, “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No, come on, don’t say that. He loves you and he is out there. Fate will slowly bring you two back together. Okay? Trust me. He is looking for you.”

You soon felt sorry. Zola and Emi had both went through their own set of trauma. They lost their families and had endured their own pain. They were always kind to you, even when you could not look them in the eyes to say hello. You felt embarrassed, how could you be so weak when everyone else seemed so strong? You held your breath as you felt yourself begin to cry. Reaching out her arms, Zola hugged you. Within seconds Emi came over from the sink to hug you as well.

“Thank you,” you cried, and you meant it.

Jisung breathed heavily as he ducked his head under the dense shrubbery.

“Which way’d you see him go?” a voice called out.

“I thought he came over here,” another replied.

He clutched his gun and the cans of food he had just stolen, closing his eyes to internally beg to no one in particular.

‘Pass. Walk past me. Pass.’

His heart was beating loudly, though not out of anxiety. He wasn’t scared anymore; he was tired. This was routine for Jisung. Today, he timed his mission poorly. Right as he was escaping from a window, arms full of goods, the family whose home he had ransacked returned home. Jisung was forced to sprint. He would never let himself get close to the arms of The Reaper. His will to survive was depended on one thing, and that was you.

“No, let’s try back over there,” the first voice called back.

Jisung exhaled deeply. Relief. They were moving away. After waiting a couple of moments, he emerged from the greenery. In the past two years, things had changed, even if only a bit. He was slightly taller and his shoulders broader. His hair was longer now, almost covering his eyes, though still black against his tanned skin. Beneath his changed physical appearance, he remained the same at heart. The biggest change was that he had a new best friend. Thievery.

Thievery slightly hardened Jisung. He knew it did. It made him selfish, forcing him to dehumanize those he was taking from. He wanted to survive. He needed to. And if stealing was the only way, he had to do it.

He began to walk to what he deemed as, ‘his base’. It was a small clearing beneath a useless bridge where he stashed his items. It was hardly a ‘home’, so he wouldn’t refer to it as such. He rarely slept there anyway. Conditions under an old bridge are commonly dark, damp, and musty, and his bridge was no exception. Usually, he’d crash wherever he found himself tired. As long as he picked a spot where he was hidden from a passerby’s view, he’d sleep in abandoned buildings, under trees, old cars...

But he refused to make a ‘home’ out of his ‘sleep spots’. They didn’t feel like ‘home’ without you.

On his way over he felt his foot kick something hard. Jisung looked down to find a tiny handheld radio. It was coated in dirt, and most likely broken. Regardless, Jisung took it. During an apocalypse, kleptomania is arguably justified. When you have nothing, you’ll take anything that might help you survive.

He placed his new items in his collection and then sat down next to one of the piles. Leaning his head back, he placed a hand on his upper thigh. After digging out the bullet with a pocket knife, the skin never healed correctly. He was left with a mangled scar, and it ached when he aggravated his leg muscle excessively. A scar. A collection of recovered skin, sprinkled with tiny nerve endings desperately trying to hide a wound. Jisung’s body was covered in scars. From the thick one on his thigh to the tiny ones etched over his hands and chest, and to the deep one that severed his heart.

Opening his eyes, he decided to check out the radio, dusting off the film of dirt. He flipped it over and examined the back.

“No batteries. Nice.” he rolled his eyes and looked around his stash. He scanned the shelves and piles until he found what he was looking for.

Unscrewing the bottom of a flashlight, he shook out two D batteries.

After reinserting the batteries into the radio, he began fumbling with the buttons. He jumped slightly at the static sound which pierced through the silence of his base, reverberating off the walls. As he flipped through the stations, he silently wondered whose hands touched the dials before his own. ‘Where are they now?’ Oh, and he wished for the painful white noise to subside.

“Y/n.” You were awoken to the sound of a soft whisper. Rosalee looked down at you with her kind eyes. She was wearing a backpack and a baseball cap. You noticed the tiny pieces of silver that poked out the sides of the hat, framing her face gently. She began speaking, quietly though, being cautious not to wake anyone else up, “I’m leaving for a couple days. I guess there’s an issue up at the main facility.”

“An issue at the main facility?” You sat up and rubbed your eyes, slowly comprehending her words.

“Yes. There was an external security violation,” she paused noticing you grow tense, “It’s nothing to worry about. The trespasser is non-threatening. I’m just being called over to direct what we should do with them. While I’m gone, tend to my hydrangeas please.”

“Hydrangeas? Like the flower?” You were confused, why were said plants being prioritized? If they were so important, why hadn’t you heard about them before? You waited for her to change your orders you to a more serious, grueling task, but she left it at that. Her hydrangeas.

“Yes, they’re in my office. They get very thirsty, so I’ll need you to water them and make sure they get sunlight, it can get dark in there sometimes.”

You nodded.

“Okay,” she smiled and began to walk away, “I will see you soon.”

After she exited, you laid in your bed and sifted through the information she gave you. You were staring at the ceiling as you had countless times before, but this time your mind wasn't concerned with the cracks or the old grey paint.

‘What the hell is the deal with the damn flowers?’

Later that day you found yourself sitting outside. Your gaze glided across the metal fence which stood tall, closing you in. It seemed odd to know that you were grounded to one side of the fence and do nothing about it. Sure, the wall of metal surrounding you was there for your safety, to keep the rest of the world on the outside. But it felt funny. The same fence lies around the Tartix base to keep the inside world in.

Leaning back slightly, you rested your back against the building. It felt cool on your skin. You closed your eyes, feeling the wind brushing against you and listened to the sound of peace. The lull of serenity.

“Oh shoot,” you exclaimed, disrupting the silence, “The flowers.” Quickly rising, you made your way inside.

The walls in the narrow hallway to Rosalee’s office were painted a shy shade of blue, appearing almost white in the faint daylight. The window at the far end of the hall was the only source of light, and if you had arrived any later you would have struggled to find your way. You soon found yourself in front of what you knew to be her office, though you’d never been inside.

“Woah. Hello Hydrangeas,” you mumbled as you assessed the room around you.

The office was small and dim. A wood table sat in the middle, paired with a chair home to a faded pink cushion. The table was stacked high with books, photographs, and papers. Turning to the wall on your left, you located a large window next to a tall bookcase. You wouldn’t have known it was a window hadn’t you moved the sheets. They were pinned up with tacks, concealing the window completely. And right in front of the window was a large light, hung over a tiny table of lively flowers.

“So this is how they get their light, huh?” you spoke aloud to yourself.

Crouching down, you observed the plants. There were four pots, each with a large bulbous plant, one pink, one white, and two sister shades of both purple and blue. In a world often depleted of color and life, seeing such vibrant colors was almost supernatural. You tilted your head as you admired them, falling in complete awe. After shaking yourself out of your wonder-struck trance, you noticed a tiny note taped to the light.

‘INSTRUCTIONS FOR MY GARDEN’

You smiled at the word ‘garden’. The table of four plants was humble, but Rosalee cared about it. It was a patch of life in a meadow of chaos. It was her garden.

“Be… days.”

“Huh?” Jisung quickly awoke.

Like a pair of sharp scissors slicing a clean line in a fresh piece of paper, the sound of static tore through his silent morning, waking Jisung up. Digging in his coat pocket, he pulled out the tiny radio he had recently claimed as his own. He stared at it, waiting for it to speak once more.

“Hello? You there?” The voice was that of a woman. Her sentence came through clearer this time. He could make out words and hear her tone. Something about her smooth voice alleviated his restless soul.

“He… oh?” Static again. Once a couple of minutes went by, he sighed and put the radio back into his pocket. He was still tired, and it was still early; he was going to go back to sleep.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here.” It was a man's voice this time.

Jisung jolted up and pulled the radio back out, staring at it. Why was he so eager to hear someone’s voice? Why was it so… comforting? Maybe it was the voice. Maybe it was how the silence was finally gone. Or maybe it was the reminder he wasn’t alone.

“Okay. Did you get that? I’ll… an issue at…” Jisung cringed each time the static broke in, interrupting the flow of the conversation. “I left food in the cellar. Enough for… Send one of the boys over when you’re low…”

‘Food.’ Jisung smiled excitedly. ‘Food.’

“How long?”

“A couple days. I’ll keep in touch. Over.”

“Over.”

Static.

He sat for a while, pushing the buttons on the faded black device. He longed for the sound of a voice, any voice. Loneliness swarmed him like summer gnats. Even when he tried to swat it away, it returned and lingered, hitting him in different places, driving him nuts. He longed for company, for your company.

“Hello?” It was the man's voice again, “Hello?”

Jisung closed his eyes and began listening again. ‘It’s like TV,’ he thought to himself, smiling lightly.

“Hello? I need to send someone over later for…”

“Yes?” The soothing voice returned.

“Where should I send them?”

Jisung sat up and opened his eyes. These woods were vast, but he knew them well. He pushed his hand through his hair, listening as the women drew out a road map, pointing to where her base was.

“...and have them end near full rock circle…”

“Full rock circle. I can get there,” he whispered, almost like he was replying.

Food. Base.

Jisung put the radio down and stood up. He had fallen asleep in a van he often slept in because of the close distance to his ‘stash’. He then began to move, being wary of his surroundings.

Something was stirring in Jisung. Some hate that had boiled over his time in solitude. He had lost everything; all he had had been taken and pried from his grasp. Every waking moment reiterated the pain of his existence. What he owned remained hidden in a crack of cement. It was sad. He felt pathetic.

In moments like those, he found refuge in his only pastime. The only thing that could help him escape the depreciating feeling. Thievery.

Jisung wanted to steal.

He felt like he had to.

It had been three days since you saw Rosalee and three days that you been caring for her tiny garden.

You were sitting at her desk, letting your body sink into her soft pink chair. Your eyes danced over the papers, book covers, and photographs. The photos in the stack at the edge of her table were faded slightly and folded at the edges, almost as if they were frequently shuffled through.

Lifting the stack, you began to flip through them. The first image depicted a tiny girl standing in front of a building. Her arms were positioned outwards, spread wide, like she was showing off the cozy-looking house and rectangular plot of soil behind her. You tilted your head, flipping to the next photo. It was the same girl, only this time taller, her hair now reaching her elbows. She stood in the same spot, smiling again, the patch of dirt now full of green sprouts. You continued to flip through the photos; most of them were of two girls, one being the girl in the first two pictures, and what you recognized to be Rosalee. Assuming they were her daughters you began to imagine Rosalee as a mother until you were met with the last photo. The unfamiliar girl was older now. Her smile was still warm, and it visibly resembled Rosalee’s. She was not accompanied by dirt, nor by stems with small buds hanging off the edge. Instead, there was a crowd of violet, blue, white, pink and every color in between.

“Hydrangeas,” you whispered.

You grabbed the first photo from the stack and placed it beside the last one. Studying the girl, you noticed how she aged slightly, though her smile remained just as lovely and radiant as it had been before. You lifted the photos up and brought them towards the window, so you could see them in the light. As you gently moved the image, and the light penetrated the picture, you noticed something scribbled on the undersides of each.

Flipping over the first one, you read the words under your breath.

‘Mommy and I planted today. I want the flowers to bloom now. She says I have to wait for it to be pretty and that good things take time. I don’t get what that means. Also, I don't like the dirt, it's not pretty. Mommy said our flowers will be pretty. She said this is our garden.’

It was written in childish print, words were misspelled and letters looped messily. For some reason, there was a lump in your throat. Slowly, you turned over the next photo and began to read again.

‘Look at our garden!!!!!! It's so pretty. Mommy is right. Good things do take time. The pink one is my favorite, Mommy says she agrees.’ You stopped reading the swirly childish print and flipped back over the photo. Grazing your finger over the tiny girls face, tears welled up in your eyes.

“Both of my daughters were taken,” you remembered Rosalee’s words pouring out from her like blood dripping from a wound. You remembered the pain in her face as she spoke and the way her voice became choppy.

The first tear slipped down your face as you stared at the girl whose heart was so happy and smile was so warm. Suddenly, you couldn’t hold back your emotions. You dropped down in front of the flowers and cried. You cried for Rosalee’s daughters and the golden future they’d never see. You cried for their garden, which had been reduced to four pots in a dark room. You cried that the evil arms of Tartix stole a mother’s beloved children. You cried that good things take time. You cried hard for your world. You clutched the photographs to your chest tightly, your vision clogging with tears.

This garden was not for Rosalee. It was for the girl who was promised a garden, a garden full of love and rich in color.

It was all planned out. Calculated cleanly. Organized perfectly. Jisung knew how to go about the task. He was ready to steal.

As the sky turned black, Jisung found himself stationed near the high metal fence. He felt like a creature, a beast prepared to stalk his prey. Though being conditioned to steal, there was a deep pang of worry and guilt within him. He wasn’t nervous. He was upset. Upset that Day Zero had degraded him to such filth. Once running through the plan a few more times, he decided it was time.

He climbed his way over the fence, taking out a pair of cutting pliers to cut the jagged barbed wire on top. Jisung then jumped down, landing skillfully on the balls of his feet. The dirt lightly thudded beneath him, but not loud enough to draw any attention towards the intruder.

Entering a field he wasn’t familiar with always got his adrenaline pumping. It made his thoughts race.

‘You’re the odd man out; you’re the reason the fence lay high and security holds weapons. You’re the glint in the shadows and the gentle rustle of leaves. It’s your footprint stamped in the wet dirt and it’s your fault there’s empty space where items belong. You’re a thief.’

He made his way towards the building, staying pinched to any available walls. He moved through the night swiftly, a master at traveling in the darkness.

‘Shit.’ his brain yelled loudly. Jisung stopped his movements. A figure was sitting near the building. ‘What the fuck is someone doing outside right now?’

Jisung moved his hand into his pocket, wrapping his hand around a metal grip. Not to fire. Only to scare.

He moved towards the silhouette, silencing his breath, absorbing his presence into the night. A fraction of a second later, he grabbed the person’s neck, placing the gun against their throat.

They became you, and you began to scream.

‘Fuck.’

The barrel was cold against your neck. Your mind began to race, and you did the one thing you could think to do.

Scream.

You yelled out for help repeatedly, kicking violently and squirming aggressively.

The air getting to you was limited. The person's arm tightened as he pressed the gun deeper into your neck. Right as you thought you would stop breathing completely, they released you, your body falling sideways. You were coughing wildly as the world around you spun.

“Y/n?” the voice was shaking and quiet. It was barely a whisper, but you heard it as clear as day. The hair on your neck stood up as your heart took off, catching up to the panting of your breath.

‘No. I’m imagining things. I must be.’

You couldn't turn around; there was something holding you back from turning around. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t real; it wasn’t him. While you tried to rationalize your thoughts and regain your balance, you heard yelling, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

“23! He has a number! Shoot! Now!”

‘23… 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23.’

Your body began to tremble as your mind flashed through memories. You saw him coming towards you at the door, hiding his own fear behind a rifle. You saw him holding you under the cold sky, wiping your tears. You saw him kissing you for the first time, setting fire to every part of your tired heart. You saw him promising you he’d be okay and promising you he’d come back. You heard him tell you he loved you. You began to cry and call out his name. You got up quickly, running sloppily over to the unit of guards holding guns to him.

“DON’T SHOOT!”

“Y/n stay back! He’s dangerous!”

“NO! NO! NO! JISUNG! IT’S ME! I’M HERE!” Your lungs were ablaze and your eyes were soaked. You saw him lying there on the ground, helplessly fighting for his life. The guards wouldn’t shoot with you nearby. They couldn’t.

“Y/n? Y/N?” He began resisting with an increased amount of strength. His neck vein bulging as he kicked his legs tirelessly.

Forcing your way through the wall of tall men, you thrust yourself on top of him.

“Get off of him! Immediately!” guard commanded.

They were shouting, but you didn’t hear it. The loudness of the world had smudged and blurred behind you. All you could see was his face, coated in dirt and streaked with tears.

“Holy shit. You’re here.” he breathed up at you.

“Holy shit. You almost killed me.”

You two stood up together and held each other defensively. All the guards backed away, seeing by your interactions he wasn’t a threat. You held on to Jisung tightly, keeping your face tucked into his chest. You were crying more, being hugged by him, and silently prayed that you weren’t dreaming.

He stroked your hair as complete disorder and confusion unfolded around you. Kids began pouring outside, waking up to the sound of the danger alarm. Security guards stood confused, dropping their guns to their sides. Jisung kissed your head over and over again.

You looked up at him and whispered, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t,” he replied. He stared down at your face and spoke softly, “God, I missed you.” He then placed a hand on your cheek and leaned down, kissing you deeply.

There was something unfathomable about the experience. Something you couldn’t explain. You felt as if you were floating over your body, watching yourself rediscover your heart. You watched as your body warmed and your mind cooled. You watched the horizon as you stood on top of the hill, tired from pushing the boulder. You watched a vibrant garden full of light grew around you. You watched it all come together because he was there.

As you slowly pulled away a picture flashed in your mind. A colorful picture with misspelled words that messily danced.

Looking up at Jisung, you saw the warm colors around him.

He wiped your tears as you smiled at him. You couldn’t wait to thank your friends for being patient with you and tell Rosalee how much you’ve truly appreciated everything she’s done.

Things were going to be okay.

‘Good things take time.’

And they did. They always do.

Concluded!

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stardustdaemon · 5 years ago

Text

Remember me. - Aokise fic

So, this is an old WIP that I’ve tried to edit and work around to create something new, it’s a bit different to my usual writing but I hope you enjoy it none the less <3

Words : 3,281

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“Kurokocchi are you sure you have the time to be here? I thought you had practice?” Kise asked as he placed a box on the plastic table his agency had leant him, picking at the tape as he directed his sister on where to put his jackets.

“We’ll be fine. It’ll be a relief to see your wardrobe thin out anyway.” The smaller spoke from behind a clothes rack, surprising Kise’s sister as he took the clothing from her with a polite bow. Kise always appreciated Kuroko, from the moment they first met he had been nothing but blunt and honest, especially after his accident. Kuroko’s brash nature had been a large part of the reason Kise had managed to re ground himself within his day to day life.

Kise had decided to sell some of the clothes the staff had given him from his shoots. Some because they didn’t fit him anymore, some because he’d worn them with everything possible, some because he, quite frankly, never liked them and well, some because he had no idea they were even in there until his sisters had dragged them out of his closet, telling him that he should really clear out his stuff, that she didn’t have enough room for it all here. She had taken him into her house without a second thought when he’d finally flown back from America.

Kise’s excuse to himself, of course, was that if he got rid of the old, he could replace them with the new. A lot of the new. The thought excited him as he found himself emptying a box of accessories. He didn’t want to think about the fact he’d nearly died at the hands of an obsessed fan. He didn’t want to acknowledge that his assault had made everyone in his life watch him with pity, with concern, like he was going to break at any moment. Sure, he forgot some stuff easily and he had large gaps in his memory but he was lucky, there was no real damage to his body, only a few scars littered down his neck.

An hour later found Kise stood irritated behind a table laid out with shoes, necklaces, earrings and belts, all carefully coloured or intricately patterned and a handful of his friends and his sisters stood with him, all already bagging items and exchanging money.

Momoi had warned him of the number of fans that would gather, since nobody had heard from him in a few months, but he hadn’t taken notice, thinking he’d be fine until he found himself in the midst of three girls fighting for a ring he wore two years ago. He excused himself in a bubbly manner, immediately souring when he was alone, sifting angrily through some shirts. He hated his fans most of the time. They were loud, obnoxious and rude, with no care in the world for him as a person or his friends. All they wanted was to tell him how worried they were, assuming they’d now get a shot with him. People were fickle.

“Hey. You got anything different for basketball?” A voice asked, causing the blonde to jump. He came face to face with a tan hand outstretched, slightly shaking the white basketball shorts in his grip. Kise looked to the man's face, noting his unusual blue hair with a sense of familiarity, before looking up.

“I have a lot actually. Gimme a second.” The stranger nodded as Kise turned to lift a box, placing it on the table next to him before moving aside some books. “It’s all under here, mostly white or blue but I think there should be some black ones in there too.” He explained, stepping back as the stranger immediately rummaged through the box, almost desperate to avoid eye contact. Kise watched for a moment, mouth opening to speak before his sister called him over to check something.

“Ah sorry, I can’t drop the price for that one, that was actually really expensive.” Kise apologised, bowing slightly to what he could only assume was one of his fans aunts. She sighed but nodded anyway, handing over the money with a small smile. Kise sighed, letting his shoulders drop forwards when he noticed there were less people about. Kuroko was stood a little further away, listening to one of Kise’s neighbours tell him about his granddaughters wedding with rapt attention.

“So, how much for these?” The voice threw Kise off as he whirled around, ignoring the playful jab to his side from his sister as she walked away. It was the guy from before, holding up a grey pair of shorts and a few shirts. Kise hummed, tilting his head to the side in thought.

“Well, to be honest I wasn’t expecting to sell the shorts so I guess you can just take them. The shirts will be like, five each though.” He nodded, happy with his answer as the other hummed, digging about in his pockets for some change.

“Sounds good to me, thanks.” Just as he was about to turn around, a blur of pink rushed past Kise’s vision.

“Dai-chan! I haven’t seen you for months!” Momoi exclaimed, arms around the taller boy in front of her and Kise blinked, looking between the two as ‘Dai-chan’ frowned down at her, hand moving to ruffle her hair.

“That’s what happens when people move to different countries, Satsuki.” He mentioned bluntly and Kise couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring Momoi’s pout as she finally pulled away from the blue haired boy.

“Ki-chan, this is Aomine Daiki, we used to go to school together, but he abandoned me to do a year in America.” Momoi explained, gesturing between the two of them. Kise just nodded, ignoring the way his mind repeated the name like a lost fact, holding out a hand.

“Nice to meet you urh, formally, I guess. Kise Ryouta.” He remarked, pouting at the scoff Aomine replied with before shaking his hand.

“Yeah no shit, you’re in a lot of magazines ya’know.” Aomine joked, though his voice was laced with something Kise couldn’t quite place, dropping the money into the pot on the table. Before Kise could say anything, another wave of people arrived.

By the time he’d dealt with them all and started to pack up the boxes, Aomine had left. Kise tried to not let it bother him, smiling brightly and chatting away to everyone as they all helped tidy up and get everything in his house.

After thanking everyone and promising he’d take them all out for food another time he headed back inside, ignoring the piles and boxes of stuff he hadn’t managed to sell and went up to his room. Dropping onto his bed with a huff, he glanced at his wardrobe, smile crossing his features. He’d managed to get rid of quite a lot today, which meant that tomorrow he could finally get that jacket he’d been wanting for ages, a reward, he tells himself.

Though when he looked to the basketball resting on a shelf, he was hit with the reminder of Aomine. He had seemed nice enough, but something was just, strange. No matter how much he thought on it though, he couldn’t place why he was so familiar. It was like the explanation was there, balancing precariously off a cliff, just out of his reach.

Shaking his head, he pushed it to the back of his mind, reaching the conclusion that he’d probably heard about him in passing or seen him briefly with Momoi. Yeah, that had to be it.

But Momoi said he was in America...

“Get yourself together Ryouta.” Kise mumbled to himself, hopping off of his bed and into the shower. The steam of the water helped clear his head, letting him finally relax for the day as he sat at his desk, robe wrapped tight around him and began his evening skin care, applying each cream with ease and delicacy, smiling at himself when he was finished.

That night he dreamt of his assault, of a face hidden by shadow as they screamed his name, trying to find him in an unknown apartment, of somebody’s hands holding his mouth shut, the feeling of the ground beneath him tearing into his back as he was dragged to a van.

The feeling of rope digging deep into his skin, his heart beating against his chest. Of not knowing how long he’d been there, stuck in the windowless room, maybe underground. The voice of his ‘fan’ and the stories of their fantasies and expectations of him, punishing him if he retorted or fought back.

He remembered the relief when he heard a door fall, saw the first rays of sunlight he’d seen in what felt like weeks, felt warm familiar hands on his shoulders and tears soaking the skin of his shoulder.

He awoke with a gasp for air, hand clutching his chest to try and still his heart as he sat up, eyes analysing his whole room. It always irked him, as he tried to grip onto the fading memories of whoever he was with, that he couldn’t remember their face. Or who they were to him.

Was it another model? A friend perhaps? Even a photographer. It hurt his head, to try and place a face to the figure that had clung to him for dear life when they finally found him. To remember the tone and pitch of the voice that had called out his name.

“Ryouta, someone’s here!” His sister called and Kise whined, flailing about in his bed before sighing and standing up, pulling on a jumper and pair of jeans before leaving his room. It was probably Kasamatsu ready to smack him upside the head for not being ready to meet him.

He wasn’t expecting Aomine to be at the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Hey, did you forget something yesterday?” Kise asked as he leant against the door frame, eyebrows raised in curiosity. Aomine avoided his eyes, instead staring at the hinge of the door.

“Not really. Can we talk?” His voice was quiet and almost aggressive and Kise nodded slowly, slipping on a pair of shoes before stepping outside, gently closing the door behind him. Aomine immediately began walking, causing Kise to stumble a little to catch up.

A heavy silence fell over them as they fell into step beside the other, Kise awkwardly holding his hands out in front of him as Aomine watched the floor. Kise had always been good at talking, at filling the space between him and his company but something felt off this time. Like he wasn’t meant to say a word. Aomine seemed to be collecting his thoughts and Kise decided maybe he should let him.

Though it was odd. They’d only just met, barely exchanged a few words and yet Aomine seemed like he’d known him for a while, like Kise had maybe hurt him or the other way around.

Before Kise could think anymore, Aomine came to a halt in front of a street ball court. Kise watched silently as Aomine seemed to process his words before sighing.

“Look I’m, sure this is weird as fuck for you. But that wasn’t the first time we’ve met.” Aomine admitted slowly, finally looking Kise in the eye to judge his reaction. Kise blinked, staring at the other before he nodded, pout settling on his features, highlighting his confusion.

Aomine sighed, running a hand through his hair before pulling out his phone, scrolling for a moment and then pausing.

“We met in America, two years ago. You were taking a break from a shoot when I completely tripped over you trying to walk and spin a ball on my finger at the same time. You screamed at me for ages, complaining I’d messed up your shirt. Annoyed the shit out of me but I assumed that the only way to get rid of you was to agree to buy you lunch but I ended up enjoying your company. We met up a few more times aft-”

“It was you.” Kise’s voice was quiet, low enough to be carried away in the gentle breeze between them. Aomine paused before nodding, handing the other his phone.

Kise took a few deep breaths before looking at the phone, holding it in two hands to try and stop himself from shaking before he was looking at his own face.

The picture was simple, Kise in the front smiling wide while Aomine was stood behind him, slight frown to his eyebrows but a gentle curve on his mouth, an expression of feigned annoyance.

And then the memories hit.

Sitting in cafes with Aomine. Swatting the others hands away when he’d mess up his hair. Playing one on one together and always losing. Kicking the other awake. Complaining that Aomine wasn’t listening.

Holding each other in the early hours of the morning, trusting the other with their faults and insecurities. Arguing. Making up. Silly date and crying together.

“You... We were together, weren’t we?” Kise asked quietly, voice wobbling as he handed Aomine back his phone. All the taller could do was nod, watching Kise’s face carefully before he sighed.

“When we found you, god I was so relieved. You’d been missing for a few days, I was losing my mind. But when they told me you were being flown straight home once you’d recovered, I panicked. I tried to message or call you but I guess they changed your phone.

After a while I decided to come back, you had to be wondering what was happening right? I remembered you telling me about where your sister lives, that it was the same neighbourhood I grew up in. So, I tried it and when I saw you again god my heart almost burst.

I thought I’d surprise you but, all you did was look at me with confusion, you had no idea who I was and that hurt. A lot.” Aomine admitted, watching a mother struggle to get their child to hold their hand, avoiding Kise’s glance.

Kise felt his heart shatter, more memories flooding into his head, fast enough that they were bringing with them a painful and throbbing ache deep into his brain.

But he let them flow, remembered Aomine’s smile, his laugh, the way he’d snore when he was deep in sleep, the focus on his face when he was watching a quiz show.

The way his hands had gripped Kise’s shoulders when they found him, the feeling of his larger and stronger frame shaking against him from tears.

Kise bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying with all of his might to stop himself from crying but it was inevitable.

Before either of them knew it Kise was on his knees, arms wrapped tight around his chest as he fought for breath, entire frame shaking as he let the tears fall. Aomine was by his side in seconds, hand hovering over his back before he sighed, pulling the other to his chest.

They sat like that for a while, Aomine hunched over with Kise half lying in his lap, not caring or aware of how they must look to everyone around them.

When Kise finally calmed down enough to try to talk he pulled away slightly, looking up at Aomine with watery eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I cannot believe I forgot you.” He rasped, words getting caught in his throat on the way out and Aomine levelled him with a gentle but firm smile.

“Right, ‘cus you picked what memories you didn’t want.” His voice was soft and Kise found himself laughing, shaking his head as he pushed himself away from the other, falling onto his back to watch the sky. He could feel Aomine’s concerned gaze on him and he almost painted a smile on his face, apology and joke to hide what just happened resting on his tongue before he sighed.

“It really fucking sucks. I’m aware that we were together, that you meant so much to me. But I still don’t fully remember. It’s like I just watched a short film of a love story, I don’t feel like the memories are mine.” He admitted, stretching out a hand towards the clouds. Aomine hummed, shifting into a cross legged position, shoulders hunched forwards.

“Guess that makes sense. I’m not here to make you come back though, nor to convince you that we need each other. I missed you like crazy but I’m not that much of an asshole. I just, wanted you to know, help fill the pieces.” Aomine shrugged, like he was talking about the weather and Kise laughed, the sound bubbling in his throat as he glanced over at the blue haired man.

“I appreciate that, but gosh don’t sound so down about it. I guess you’re the only person who gets to say they stumbled into my life twice though?” Kise grinned, whining at the way Aomine swiped at his arm. It felt natural, unsurprisingly to Kise, to just sit in the others company quietly.

It was the most normal he’d felt since he’d woke up in the hospital, briefly forgetting who he even was. The journey home had been full of the hosts warily hovering around him and as much as he loved his sister and was grateful for her taking him in, she had crowded and suffocated him as soon as he touched down, refusing to let anyone see him for the first few weeks, only easing up when Kise had snapped and shouted at her that he could handle seeing his friends.

It was strained with them though, them careful of what to say around him and Kagami even re-introducing himself just in case, which had amused Kise but also tired him out.

Sitting here on the sun warmed asphalt of the streetball court, watching parents drag their kids to school and groups of students laughing together, it was the most normal he’d felt in months. He looked over to Aomine, mouth twitching softly when he saw his eyes were closed.

Sitting up slowly, Kise scooted closer, poking at Aomine’s cheek with a pout, to which the other replied with a grunt, only cracking one eye open in response.

“I can’t say I remember a huge amount, or that much about you but. How about we just. Start again?” Kise queried, smile growing at the way Aomine frowned at him, in a way Kise vaguely recognised as an indication of mild annoyance.

Instead of replying he stood up, stretching his arms above his head before turning and holding out a hand.

“I’m Kise Ryouta, nice to meet you!” He chirped, feeling his heart pulse in his ears, happiness flowing through him for the first time in months. Aomine stared at him for a moment, one eyebrow drawn down in confusion before he huffed, shaking his head as he lifted his hand to grip Kise’s.

“Aomine Daiki.” He mumbled and Kise beamed, the brightness of his smile challenging the sun shining just above them.

When they both began walking to the nearest café, Kise chattering away excitedly and Aomine listening, focus directed completely at the blonde beside him, Kise couldn’t help but feel hope swell in his chest.

Things hadn’t been normal since he’d got back. He’d been feeling incomplete, but now, he realised it was because he forgot someone important.

And sure, he might forget again briefly, have trouble remembering events or conversations but he was happy he got a second shot and meeting Aomine, learning about him and knowing him, that was all that mattered.

He felt like he was finally home.

#mao writes #aokise #knb #unbetad

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brokenmimir · 6 years ago

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The Greatest Treasure

White Rose Week 2019, Day 4: Jealousy

Nothing is so covetous as a dragon, and no treasure in the world has moved the cold heart of Weiss so much as one tiny red faerie.

WARNING: Fantasy Violence

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201924

Weiss slowly moved through the treasure hoard, grateful for once to be unusually small by dragon standards. Her father had always treated her as a useless runt, barely putting up with her because of her great skill with magic, but this time it was invaluable. She navigated the messy piles of gold, silver, gems and more exotic items without knocking anything over, until she finally reached her target.

When she had first been brought into the main treasure hoard years before Weiss had been amazed by its splendor. As with all dragons she had coveted the treasures the moment she saw them, with the finely wrought silver and the collection of sapphires, roughly tossed in a pile in one corner, taking most of her interest. She could spend hours staring at them, carefully shifting coins and counting baubles, but the one time she'd tried to take a tiny piece home her father had noticed instantly and had punished her severely.

She still shuddered at that memory, the scar covering one eye burning just remembering it.

There was one treasure which had truly stolen her interest though, one piece of beauty greater than all the jewels of the earth or works of man and magic. Trapped in a perfect crystalline ball barely large enough to fill her draconic paw was a faerie. Her eyes shone brighter than the purest mithril, and her hair was a riot of black and crimson. Her wings were like those of a dragonfly if adorned with luminous rubies, and her lean, athletic figure outshone even the finest human forms.

Just one glimpse of this faerie had ignited the endless greed and jealousy that burned in the heart of all dragons. Even if it cost her life she had to possess it, but seeing her so soon after her punishment for stealing a tiny trifle, even Weiss had been unwilling to dare her father's wrath, and so she had spent days simply sneaking in and observing it.

Until one day, the faerie, Ruby, had spoken.

That fateful day had been many years before, but finally it had become too much. Weiss could no longer wait, no longer content herself with speaking to the faerie whenever she had an excuse to enter her father's lair. Every moment of every day she burned with both a fierce jealously and greed, along with other, stranger emotions she could not name. They all spoke in one loud voice, however, ordering her to take the faerie for her own.

Finally she came close, pausing to once again bask in Ruby's presence. As always when she first spotted the faerie she looked so sad trapped in her crystal, but as had swiftly become the case she brightened up, a happy grin on her tiny face when she saw the white dragon observing her.

“Weiss!” she squeaked.

“Shh, quiet you dolt,” Weiss hissed, looking around.

Ruby just giggled, but she did lower her voice a little. “You're back! Usually you stay away longer…”

“You know I always had to wait until I had an excuse to visit father's lair,” Weiss said as she reached the orb.

“So why are you here today?” Ruby asked curiously. “Does he need you to do some magic?”

Weiss shook her head. “Not this time. I don't have a reason to be here.”

“But… you told me what your dad did last time you snuck in here,” Ruby asked, her face creased with worry.

Weiss smirked. “He has to catch me before he can hurt me.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, he's a dragon,” Ruby said. “He'll notice you've been here.”

“That only matters if I'm going to come back.”

Ruby looked shattered. “You're leaving?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Not without you, you dunce. I'm taking you, and no one will ever be able to keep you from me again.”

With that Weiss leaned forward and gently picked the orb up in her mouth. It was even warmer than she'd imagined, as she'd never been able to work up the nerve to touch so valuable a treasure for fear of her father's wrath. Turning around, she slowly began to make her way out of the cave, not even tempted to steal so much as a single sapphire with the greatest treasure in the world between her jaws.

Once she made it outside she spread her wings, preparing to fly away, when a deep, rumbling voice froze her in place. “Weiss.”

Slowly turning her long neck, she saw her father waiting on the ridge above. While she was small, a lithe, thin white dragon with small horns and bright blue eyes, he was a massive, hulking beast more than three times her length. His red eyes burned into her, and his claws, longer than her head, cut through the solid rock above his cave like it was wet clay.

They stared into each other's eyes, and she knew in that moment that he knew what she had taken. Rather than try to fight or deny it, she simply launched herself into the air, barely avoiding the blast of ice that froze the ground where she had been crouched. With a heavens shaking roar the Great White Dragon launched himself in pursuit, his mighty wings unleashing hurricane force winds to tear the pine trees apart and displace a blizzard of snow.

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted. “Weiss, what's going on!”

Unfortunately she was too busy flying for her life to answer. Blasts of ice and magic spells flew at her, forcing her to dance through the air to avoid the worst of it, magical glyphs forming behind her to deflect the attacks she could not dodge. For endless minutes she stayed away from his wrath, until she began to think she could do it. For all of his power he was old, and he lacked her speed and stamina. He would tire, and she could finally escape him….

And then she made a mistake. It was a tiny one, not pulling in the tips of her wings enough while avoiding an attack, but the spell stiffed her muscles just enough for him to finally reach her, his massive claws slamming into her back, drawing forth an agonized scream.

She slammed into the ground, nearly losing consciousness as bones shattered under their combined weight. That wasn't enough for her father, his great claws raking deep inside as she slashed her open, and blood filled her lungs. He then launched himself back into the air, circling above until he landed on a ridge where he could look down on her broken, bleeding form.

She almost lost consciousness, but a voice shouting inside of her mouth pulled her back to herself. “Weiss! Weiss! Please wake up! Please be okay!”

Dragging her eyes slowly open she carefully spit out the crystal. It hurt terribly but she managed to bend her neck so that she was eye to eye with the tiny fairy once again. “Ruby…”

“Oh no, Weiss, oh no, please be okay, please don't die,” Ruby whimpered. “Please don't die, Weiss.”

“Dolt,” she whispered, unable to speak louder.

“My faerie,” her father's voice rumbled. “Return it and never darken these lands again, and I will consider this punishment sufficient.”

Weiss looked up at him, and then down at Ruby again. Dragons were tough, and despite the terrible wounds he had inflicted she would heal if given time to recover. But that would mean not only abandoning her own treasure horde, but far more importantly Ruby.

She would never get to see the beautiful faerie again. Never get to hear her stupid stories, or roll her eyes at her dumb antics, or put up with her strange notions.

And Ruby would be stuck with her father, trapped all alone in crystal, ignored and forsaken for all eternity.

“You'll be okay,” Ruby said, relieved. “You will be okay, right?"

Instead of words Weiss formed one spell, one last bit of magic, and pressed the tip of her snout to the crystal. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the orb shattered, releasing Ruby into the world for the first time in countless decades.

“What have you done!” her father roared.

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted. She reached out with a shaking hand and touched Weiss' snout. “Why?”

If dragons could smile Weiss would've. She didn't even know why herself, but for the first time in her existence something was more important to her than her treasure or even her life. The thought of Ruby, suffering alone in the dark hurt more than all the wounds her father could inflict, and by freeing her she at least did one thing that truly made her happy before she died.

Then her father launched himself at her, and it was a long time before she was able to slip into a peaceful oblivion. Even as she fell into the darkness she expected to never awaken from she felt happy to have saved Ruby.

It was with great surprise that she felt warmth, and something pulling her back from the brink of eternity. She was too weak to open her eyes, but slowly voices began to reach her. They were speaking in the faerie tongue, which Ruby had taught her years before.

“How is she still alive?” a woman asked.

“I'm not certain, but dragons are truly ferocious creatures,” a calm male voice replied. “No other being in such a state would ever recover.”

“She will get better, right?” Ruby asked tearfully. “She has to get better, right?”

There was a quiet chuckle, the man answered her. “Don't worry, Ruby. My magics and Glynda's can combine to work wonders. You, however, will truly determine the outcome.”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked. “What do you need me to do? I'll do anything!”

“For a dragon?” the woman, apparently named Glynda, scoffed.

“For Weiss!” Ruby said. “I love her!”

“Good, focus on that,” the man said. “If she truly loves you as well, then it will allow a greater healing than all that can be achieved in the glades of the Vale. But only if she loves you as dearly as you believe.”

“She does,” Ruby said. “She could've escaped alive, but she decided to free me even though she knew he'd kill her.”

“Then let us begin. Place your hands upon her snout and open your heart. Focus on the love you feel.”

Weiss felt the tiny, warm hands touch her scales, and then magic filled the air. The warmth spread from her snout to her heart, and then filled every inch of her being. She wasn't sure what love was, the term having no parallel in her own draconic language, but if it felt like the magics that now filled her being she wanted it more than all the jewels in the world.

When the magic ended her pain was gone, and she slowly opened her eyes. Standing in front of her were three faeries. One was old, with gray hair and a silver cane, the next a woman with golden hair and a riding crop in one hand. The last was Ruby, and seeing her free and smiling happily made Weiss' heart pound in her chest.

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted.

“Ruby,” Weiss replied. “You're alright.”

“Of course I am,” Ruby sniffled, before launching herself forward to hug Weiss' snout. “You're going to be okay. I was so worried!”

They reveled in each other's presence for a moment, before the older faerie cleared his throat. “As touching as this reunion is, we need to get moving. Your father will notice this soon, and I'd rather not face off agains the Great White Dragon if we can avoid it.”

Ruby flapped her wings and flew up until she was sitting on top of Weiss' head. “Okay! Let's go to my home, okay?”

“Where's that?” Weiss asked.

“South of here,” Ruby said. “Don't worry, you'll love it there! You can meet my sister and my dad, and all my friends! And I know they'll love you just as much as I do! Well, maybe not quite the same way, but still! You will come with me, right?”

Weiss didn't respond out loud, but she did launch herself into the air and start flying south. There was nowhere in the world she'd rather be than with her tiny faerie.

#white rose week #rwby #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #fanfic

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vesperlionheart · 6 years ago

Text

The Golden Bridle (1/2)

@ofhealinglove Hey, remember that selkie ask you wanted to see? I tried. It’s not selkies, but it is a MadaSaku and hopefully that’s good enough.

Sakura knew what it felt like to snap a neck. Some would say she was intimately familiar with the technique after a dozen decades of living cursed. She knew the pressure and swiftness required to cut a life short. The fact that the creature between her hands was only two and half feet with ears longer than her face didn’t change a thing. She could snap a brownie’s neck just as fast as a man’s.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” she sighed easily.

“Down, down, down,” the dirty humanoid creature chanted, fear making his eyes color brightly.

“The bounty, friend. You’ve been running for the wrong gang too many years and now it’s time to pay up.” Sakura eased her thumbs up over the sides of the brownie’s face. Her smile turned cruel. “So, pay.”

The chittering pitched higher as the creature panicked, but Sakura didn’t flinch. It scratched and flailed but she didn’t move. Her hold was iron for as long as it needed to be.

The brownie stopped fighting in her hands. A moment later the illusion he had been holding up melted away. Sakura grinned at the revealed secret passage, happy enough to drop the magical creature and let him scamper away.

Sakura let her hips swagger a bit as she skipped throat the ruined illusion, singing to herself. The room was familiar the way chain restaurants were familiar. Sakura had never been in that exact room before, but plenty of hoarding wizards had the same style when it came to decorating their treasure rooms.

Sakura picked her way through, recognizing some items for their magical importance, and others for their monetary value. Boots that traveled seven leagues, a short table that never ran out of food, a sack that held the calvary of a long dead kingdom…yes, she recognized a good number of the items.

“He’s terrible,” Sakura sighed aloud. “No wonder the bounty is so high. This stuff belongs to….” Sakura started to count off names in her head and frowned when she only came up with six. “Well, I know where most of it goes. Too bad only one person was willing to pay me for it.”

Not caring for the older collectors who had suffered theft and were unwilling to contract her to retrieve their stolen items, Sakura made her way through the mounds of loot until she found the diamond encrusted egg that hid the spirit of a wizard caught scrying on someone he shouldn’t have. The poor wizards’s wife was only too willing to fund anyone competent enough to retrieve her scatterbrained husband.

“And now to take something for myself,” Sakura mused aloud, pocketing the egg and staring out across the room for something interesting. It was a habit, to always pinch a little extra in case the employer renegade on payment. That hadn’t happened in years, but the ritual stuck.

Sakura came across a corner that reeked of abjuration magic.

“This is either terrible or wonderful,” Sakura breathed, cracking open a chest and reaching inside.

Her hand hit something soft and warm. She grabbed it tight and yanked it free, unfolding a gray seal skin that still smelled like the sea. A Selki’s pelt.

“Not worth much,” she huffed aloud, shouldering it to look again inside the chest.

She felt the cold touch of magic and yanked on what felt like a rope. A golden lead followed her hand out, but instead of attaching to a bridle, the lead unwound endlessly, indicating that the creature on the other end was miles away, doing the master’s bidding.

She took both the golden lead and the pelt, but also helped herself to a magic mirror that showed the past ‘through the eyes of the lowest among us.’ Sakura guessed by the etching of the rats on the back, what sort of vantage the mirror would offer.

With her bounty in toe, Sakura set off to collect her payment from a grieving wife and then deal with her own business. She was sure in time she’d be able to find the owner of the seal skin, but the easiest thing to do next would be to follow the golden lead and see where it ended.

So that’s what she did.

With the money from her recovery and the seal pelt both locked safely away, Sakura found the free time to follow the never ending lead as it took her from city to town, to village, to the dark moor of a fallen fae king. The muck came up to her ankles, but she walked on top of most of it, kicking her way through in her wet boots until the lead ended.

Sakura whistled low and snapped her wrist, sending a ripple down the length of gold until it smacked the side of the malnourished beast of burden. She had seen ponies and she had seen workhorses, but a Kelpie was neither of those things.

The black water horse looked up at her through a shaggy tangle of even darker hair, with red eyes too dim to scare even children. Sakura could count his ribs for how far they stood out and it made her grimace. There were scars around his fetlocks, criss crossing all the way up to his knees. The scars made her gut roll.

Sakura hopped off the lip of a grass mound and began to wade through the shallow waters, too low to drown in. When she was close enough the Kelpie drew his head back and whined low. In spite of the torture, his eyes were back to burning red when he saw who she was.

“You’re not him,” he rumbled. His voice was ancient and echoed of a time before the fae fell pray to men’s magic. He was one of the old monsters, she guessed.

“I’m not, but I have his magic bridle because I’m more powerful and better looking. My name’s Sakura. Who are you?”

The dark horse glanced down at the gold lead coiled up in her hand and bowed his head, glaring up resentfully through his bangs. “I am Madara. What do you wish of me…master?”

Sakura made a sour face, scrunching up the skin around her mouth and nose. “Ew. No, none of that. Quit it, I’m not like that bastard. Just stay still for now and don’t try to eat me because it won’t go well for you if you try. Hang on…”

Sakura closed the distance between them and reached up for where the bridle latched together. There were two places she had to open, but once they were loose she pulled the rest down off his long face. The golden lead dissolved from the extinguished magic and Sakura cradled the rest of the bridle in both hands, holding it while the gold light of its enchantment dimmed.

“There,” Sakura breathed. “All better?”

The Kelpie had been painfully still since she first reached for his face, but even after dragging the bridle off he stayed like stone. The one eye she could see was blown wide, and the whites around the dancing red pupil made her think he was in shock.

Sakura brushed the hair of his face back, combing with her nails and dragging them through the muck that still clung to him. She tisked at the filth and snapped her wrist to fling it off her fingers.

“He really didn’t even try to take care of you, did he? I’m sure you’ll do better,” she said.

Sakura stepped back and threw the bridle over her shoulder. There were enough grassy patches to pick her way up the slope that lead back to the footpath she had followed. It had taken her the better part of a day to follow the lead, but she didn’t tire like other humans, so she didn’t mind it when she realized it would be past midnight before she saw the lights of man’s world.

“Wait!”

Sakura looked back and saw the Kelpie had finally moved.

“You, what do you want of me?” he asked, sounding almost frantic.

“Try not to eat any children I guess. Someone will come to kill you if you go back to drowning humans, but there is plenty to feed on in the fae wilds.” Sakura snapped her fingers and then made her hand into a gun shape that she wagged in his direction. She paired the gesture with a sloppy, lazy smile. “That��s just some free advice though.”

“You can’t command me anymore. Why are you telling me this?” He stomped a single hoof, still sounding agitated. There was frantic magic all around him too.

“I just told you, silly, its free advice not a command. I knew what I was doing when I took this off of you. I’m not stupid,” she scoffed.

His eyes were still wide. “Then why?”

Sakura didn’t like the way he watched her, so she turned around and started to head back. When she answered it was a shout over her shoulder. “I don’t like seeing things chained up. Don’t think too much about it.” She waved a hand up in the air, hoping he saw it. “Have a happy life!”

He didn’t follow her, though she heard him climb out of the mud pit and stamp around on the road behind her for a ways. Eventually he stopped before the moors could, and let her go through the mists that uncurled around dusk. It was nearly dawn by the time she made it back to the apartment and by then she was barely awake enough to shower and dress for bed.

She fell asleep just before dawn and slept until noon.

Hunger was what eventually drove her out of bed. With her refrigerator empty, she forced herself to dress and sniff out enough human money for a good meaty midday meal from her favorite pub down the street.

It was a dark day outside, but she didn’t mind the shade the way some others did. Before she could make it to the pub the rains rolled in and she ended up nearly drenched by the time she arrived.

“No umbrella?” the owner laughed at her, face red with cheer and ale.

“Who owns an umbrella?” Sakura snapped back, shedding her jacket and snapping most of the rain water from it before hanging it up by the door. “I was told you just needed to dodge the raindrops.”

“Then what happened to you little miss?” he laughed back, already pouring her a frothing stout to go along with her meal. There was bread ready for her to butter next to her usual seat at the bar.

“I didn’t see the point in it, since I figured I was coming here to get sloshed anyway.”

Someone at the far end of the bar raised his stein and laughed, saluting her before staining his beard with froth. The pub owner chuckled and dipped away to prepare her chicken the way she liked it.

Sakura leaned back and tore through the bread, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to fill her, but loving the taste of it all the same. There was a television mounted up in the back with football reruns playing. It was still exciting enough to entertain a few of the regulars.

Sakura did a sweep of the room, noting only a few new faces. Most everyone else was a regular. Some seemed to live at The Angel’s Trumpet Pub and Meals.

One of the faces belonged to someone she had never seen before, and that was rare because Sakura was just paranoid enough to spend whole days watching the world through pub windows until she was sure she had memorized enough of the township to tell locals apart from interlopers. Sakura drank deep and then called for a second once her first mug ran dry.

Her plates of food came out, one after the other, and she ate through the first one before she noticed the staring of the stranger. Yamato was working behind the counter so she waved him down and then asked him for a pale ale to be served at the stranger’s table. If he knew who it came from she’d risk an encounter. If he didn’t…well, it wasn’t like she was worried or anything.

She was halfway through her second plate and fourth drink when he settled into the seat beside her. Sakura drank deep and then reached for another roll before sliding the empty basket down to Yamato’s end to fill up again. She tore open the biscuit with her teeth and watched the dark stranger.

He was taller than her, like most men were, with wild black hair barely braided back. His eyes were just as dark as the rest of him and his clothes were timeless trousers and a loose white shirt rolled up his forearms enough to expose the criss crossing scars.

“Oh, you,” Sakura breathed, feeling some of the lingering tension ease out. “Human you. Hey, nice look.”

Madara inclined his head and the picked up the ale, gesturing to it before taking a long pull. When he set it back down half of it was gone.

Sakura whistled low.

“What’s brought you out into the people places?” Sakura teased. She bit off another chunk of her roll. “I thought you’d be eager to see the wilds. There’s nothing keeping you back is there?”

She asked it like a question but it really wasn’t a question. The enchantment was null and void, but Madara had been a prisoner for so long, he probably forgot what it felt like to be free.

“I am considering it. I had some other matters of business to attend to and a few questions I was hoping you could answer,” Madara said, watching her.

Sakura finished her last roll and reached for her drink. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“The magician you took the bridle from. He….?”

Sakura made a gesture with her finger under her throat and then winked. “You won’t have to worry about him. It’s just his hold out minions who are a pain in the ass. You not worried about them, are ya?”

Madara shook his head slowly.

“What else can I help you with?”

“The bridle, how did you come to possess it?” Madara asked.

“It wasn’t doing him any good where it was. I was looking for something else but after I found it I picked up a few other trinkets for myself and I have….issues? Yeah, I guess you could call them issues. No yeah, I have issues with binding magic like yours so I picked up the bridle when I found it and then just followed it to you.”

“Why?”

Sakura made a face like she didn’t understand the question, so Madara leaned forward and asked again.

“Why did you bother to free me?”

“Why not?”

He blinked, pulling back to see her better. Sakura skipped over the fork and picked at the chicken with her fingers and tore through it the same way she tore through her bread, not caring if he saw her make a mess.

“You are an odd human,” he finally concluded.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You know I am dangerous. You would say I am a monster, no?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist as she leaned back on her stool. “Sure, yeah, I guess I can agree with that. Your kind has been known to eat kids, on occasion, but that’s rare, from what I know. You prefer animal to human, yes? Can’t blame you for that. I’d be a hypocrite,” Sakura laughed and held up what was left of her chicken.

“You still risked it. What if I had been a terrible creature locked away with good reason? Would you still have freed me as you did?”

Madara was still watching her and his voice made her want to bed down and sleep, it was so soft and smooth. She knew it wasn’t intentional. She had listened to enough thralls and fought off enough mind altering enchantments to know when she was being manipulated. Madara’s voice was just pleasant and there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

“Madara.”

She called his name to get his attention. When she spoke his name aloud the Kelpie sat up straighter in his seat and went rigid. She thought it reminded her of how work dogs stood at attention when their masters called. Something in her stomach rolled unpleasantly when she thought how long the abjuration magic must of lasted. There was nobility in his beautiful features. She didn’t doubt Orochimaru spent decades breaking him.

“Look, the guy I stole your bridle from was a horrible guy. He was…one of the worst humans I have ever had the misfortune of running across. I’ve known plenty of bad guys, and he was one of the worst. There’s nothing good that comes from shackles and slavery. Even if you had been the world’s worst monster, I would have wanted to free you, even if just to kill you. It’s just who I am. It’s my epic flaw, if you will,” she laughed. “If I’m free to do as I please, I’d free you again, no questions asked.”

“But…why?”

His eyes were full of questions, but they all hinged on that single word.

Sakura drained what was left of her drink and reached into her pockets for the thick wad of bills. She counted out enough to be generous for both her portion and Madara’s.

“Look, it’s just who I am, friend. Don’t think too much about it.”

Sakura threw the bills down and grabbed what was left of her chicken to swallow whole, bones and all. Her eyes gleamed bright for a moment more before she exhaled comfortably. Madara turned in his seat to watch her as she headed towards the door. She waved her hand up in the air behind her. “Have a happy life.”

She didn’t know if he would be at the Angel’s Trumpet if she went back, but Sakura didn’t risk it for the next week as she ran back and forth, paying favor for favor as she tried to hunt down new treasures and clues.

Orochimaru had plenty of spawns that were still slithering out from the cracks left in his grave, and as strong as Sakura was, she wasn’t eager to wrestle with any of them. She heard that she had pissed off some of them, and they were even more of a headache to deal with when pissed off.

But eventually the days passed, one after the other. And then the weeks passed. Sakura forgot about the kelpie and remember her hunger.

It was raining again when she stepped in and slapped her jacket in mid air, freeing it from excess rainwater. She left it on the hook by the door and waved to Yamato at the bar, taking her usual seat.

Sakura scanned the room for new and old faces, but only recognized all she saw.

“Looking for someone you missed?”

Sakura cradled her head in her hand, leaning over the counter. Yamato offered her a basket of bread to pick out of, but Sakura took the entire basket from his hands.

“You’re too observant for your own good,” she grumbled.

“The trees have eyes,” Yamato laughed, wiggling his fingers in her direction while backing up to return to the kitchens.

“Go live in a forest, green man!” Sakura hollered. She bit into her bread and then swallowed. “And bring me a beer while you’re at it.”

Yamato reemerged a moment later with a plate for someone else, but got her drink from the tap before she could complain a second time. Before she could have the first sip, Yamato tugged it back out of her reach and leaned in.

“What?” Sakura growled, feeling more irritated than usual. She had stayed away too long, she missed her comfort food and was cranky for it. Freedom had spoiled her.

“Tell me I’m your favorite wood kin,” Yamato teased, holding her drink just out of reach.

“And why would I do something like that?”

“Because it’s true.” Yamato’s grin was suspicious.

“Doesn’t mean I’d admit it. I’d break Hashirama’s heart.”

Sakura grabbed for her drink but Yamato was persistent. One of the drunk regulars lifted his head out of his arms long enough to whistle at them before his head fell back. A couple more men laughed but for the most part Yamato’s antics went ignored.

“You’ve been terrible. If someone asked me what ungrateful looked like I’d show them a picture of you. On top of being a hold out you’re also unfaithful. Weren’t we supposed to be bosom buddies?”

Sakura curled her lip in annoyance. “I swear, I think I might have to decapitate you again if you don’t give me my drink.”

“I’d just grow it back,” Yamato teased, knowing that he could survive losing his head the way all Green Men and wood kin could.

“It’s still hurt like a bitch though, so hand the drink over. I’m hangry.”

Yamato relented and let her have her drink before pushing off the counter. “Fine, be that way. I gave you a chance, just remember that. The cook will bring you your food, not me.”

Sakura flipped him the bird and Yamato saw it, but he just smiled wide at her in a way that made her stomach lurch. He was a tricky bastard. What was he planning?

“If your food sucks I’ll never come back here,” Sakura hollered down the bar.

Yamato laughed. “As if you could.”

Sakura tore into a new roll and then drank deep from her beer. She and Yamato had known each other too long and been through too much to get along so well, but at the same time there were few who understood Sakura as well as Yamato, who had been a child broken by Orochimaru’s mad schemes. She hadn’t been the victim of another human, but she understood Yamato better than most.

Which is why her stomach refused to settle.

“Maybe I should just chop off a leg this time,” Sakura muttered to herself. She tilted her glass back and the empty bottom greeter her. She set it down when she heard her dinner on the counter, excitement building as the aroma hit her.

But it wasn’t the food she noticed first.

“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed, leaning back. His memory came to her mind a second later. “Madara, right?”

The newly freed Kelpie was wearing a chief’s uniform and had his hair braided back more neatly than the last time she remembered seeing him.

He spoke with an easy smile. “You remembered my name, Sakura.”

“Hang on, something is more important right now,” Sakura exclaimed.

He went still to watch her as Sakura tugged her steak closer to stab at it with her fork and knife. She cut a piece away, watching him wearily as she chewed. A second later her serious expression melted into a smile and she nodded.

“Okay, now we can talk. You made a good steak, I don’t have to hate you.”

His eyes seemed to twinkle as the corners creased along with his smile. “That would have been unfortunate. I might have lost my job here if I couldn’t prepare a decent steak.”

“It’s more than just decent. You’re not in any danger,” Sakura said before taking another forkful. “So what are you doing here, other than making decent steak?”

“Apparently one needs money in order to afford goods and services in this world.”

“Sucks, man,” Sakura sighed. “But aside from that, what are you still doing on this side? You could cross over to the fae wilds, can’t you? That place is pretty desolate, you wouldn’t have to worry too much about if you went all natural over there.”

“But you live here,” he said. “In this world.”

Sakura nodded. “Yeah,I do, but this is where most humans live. I’m a badass, but I’m not anything extra special when it comes to species.”

Madara nodded along, watching her while she ate. “I realized that pretty early on. I was curious why you would encourage me to travel to the fae realms. You didn’t seem the type to enjoy trapping into realms not suited to your kind.”

He couldn’t have known about her past, so she chose not to bristle at the suggestion.

“I avoid the fae places almost enterally if I can help it,” she laughed. “I’ve spent enough lifetimes over there to grow sick of it, trust me. Plus, the food and drink are incomparable. Have you had much human food yet? It has real taste!”

Madara offered to take her glass for a refill and she happily passed it off for him. He spoke while operating the tap. “I’ve enjoyed much of what I’ve tried so far. I don’t think it will be hard to adapt to life here. You enjoy this pub, don’t you?”

“I love it. I’ve been coming here for years. You’re lucky to have a job in such a fun place. If Yamato ever gives you too much trouble tell me and I’ll throttle him for ya.”

Her words made him laugh as he handed her drink back over. Sakura accepted it with a nod of thanks and a salute before tipping it back to wash her throat. She wondered if he would be heading back into the kitchens soon, or if he was on break, since he didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving.

“He’s been nothing but amicable,” Madara assured her, referring to Yamato.

“Well, at least he’s nice to one of us!” Sakura hollered. From across the room Yamato hear her and looked up. His smile was wide and far too devious for her liking. She flipped him off again and then took another drink. “The cheep bastard is just a right asshole to me most of the time.”

“I was under the impression that Yamato thought highly of you. He shared with me some stories about how you know each other. You were very helpful in liberating him and his kind at one point.”

Sakura blinked before it occurred to her that Madara and Yamato shared a common enemy. Madara had been trapped by the golden bridle found in Orochimaru’s belonging, while Yamato had been the result of a direct experiment involving humans and wood kin magic. Both men must have been able to bond over their hatred of Orochimaru.

“I hope he didn’t tell you too many stories about me,” Sakura groaned. “He must have bored you.”

“No, I asked specifically for more information on the human that saved me and he didn’t ask for anything in return. You just left and I thought I could work here and wait until you came back, but that was many days ago now.”

Sakura took a bread roll and used it to wipe up what was left of her meat’s juices. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you still had questions for me. I guess I could have been more helpful if you really do plan on living in the human’s realm.”

“Well, this is where you live,” Madara said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world to comment on. He pat at something at his waist and then reached into the pocket of his pants. “But it was good that you stayed away so long, I think, since this took a while to earn.”

“Oh?” Sakura was puzzled by what Madara seemed to be implying. In the far corner Yamato was wiping down at table while watching them. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle and it irked her.

“Here, this is for you,” Madara said, setting a small velvet box on the counter.

Sakura wiped her hands on her jeans under the bar, frowning at the box. It looked familiar but she couldn’t tell from where. It wouldn’t be the first time a freed or rescued creature thanked her with a token, but the box was weirding her out.

When she glanced up at Madara he seemed too transfixed on her every movement, watching her with midnight black eyes that sparkled like something from a distant midnight.

Sakura reached for the box and cracked it open. It unfolded to show off a pretty gold band with a diamond in the center. It made her stomach flip when she recognized it.

“Madara, this is an engagement ring,” she chuckled nervously. Yamato was in the back, watching with the widest smile imaginable. “This is too much.”

“I thought it would be appropriate to do things according to human customs as well, since you are also human.” Madara’s smile spread and the twinkling of his eyes was almost boyish. “I didn’t know that there was such a thing until Yamato told me.”

Sakura didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or scream, but she knew her neck was itchy and her face was hot as the handsome kelpie creature watched her with an intensity that was all too recognizable. “But Madara, this is-this isn’t appropriate for a thank you. This is something you get for someone you want to marry.”

“I know that now. I had been wondering why you didn’t come back and I worried it was something I had missed, but Yamato explained all the customs to me. They’re a little different from Kelpi custom, but you don’t have to worry about those anymore. You already gave me my freedom so there’s nothing else to do.”

Sakura could drink any old man under the table, but after only two beers she was starting to feel the room spin.

“Madara…do you think we’re married?”

“Almost,” he breathed, blushing only slightly. “But I hope the human customs won’t take much longer.”

Sakura leaned back in her seat, away from the bar and the box with the ring. Madara didn’t look away and the intensity of his stare was making her feel like the room was the deck of a ship in a storm. Everything rocked and he was still too handsome to look at.

“I thought that was-I didn’t think you guys did that anymore. Only the really old fashioned selkies would-would still do ‘event’ marriages. Is this normal for kelpie?”

“It’s quite common. Potential spouses would try to bind their love or catch their potential mate, only to ‘free’ them from their singleness. I’ll admit my freeing was a little unorthodox, but I couldn’t have been happier with my match. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’me dedicated to only you!”

Madara reached across the bar and grabbed for her hands, securing her wrists first and sliding down until her hands were trapped in his. He pulled her closer and kissed her knuckles.

“Madara…” Sakura couldn’t find her voice.

“Don’t worry, love, I promise you we can take it slow until the wedding, but I’m so happy you chose me.” He angled his face so that he stared up at her through his heavy lashes. A few stray bangs fell out from the braid, framing his face. He seemed impossibly beautiful and she couldn’t help but panic as he loomed closer, shadowing her with the blush still high on his cheeks. He kissed her fingers again before breathing over them. “Don’t expect me to hold back from now on.”

Madara looked so lovestruck and in that moment all of Yamato’s evil grinning in the background made sense.

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