#i was on the front row and it beyond everything i could imagine

[angelolsenwife]

florence shaw playing the tambourine right in front of me was the most beautiful vision i ever had

[buckets-and-trees]

Prepare For Takeoff

Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

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While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

go to the next part: DON'T LOOK TOO FAR I'm Your Man Collection Masterlist

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[cobaltperun]

Jerks With Hearts of Gold - Work For It

Request: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Summary: The first kiss should not be this difficult to get, yet nothing is ever easy for Tara Carpenter.

Masterlist / Side story of this request

Word count: 2.7k

She could no longer deny it, she could no longer fight it, and she hated every single thing about it. Except she didn't actually hate it, she absolutely loved it, only she would never admit it, especially to anyone other than herself.

Tara Carpenter was in love with a jerk.

How could this have happened? Sure, she wanted to live her life, set aside everything that's happened while being comfortably cautious about which people she let in, but she did not expect to let the biggest jerk of them all in. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she took it not just a step, but a fucking marathon further by falling in love with you. So, there Tara was, lying on her bed facing the ceiling and glaring at it as if she had your face painted right on it. She might as well have it painted there, because that's all she could see when she closed her eyes. Your smiling face, that stupid grin when you prove her wrong, or when you get the upper hand in a debate, or when you just annoy the living hell out of her.

“Jerk,” she muttered as she looked through window that was somehow facing the direction you were in. Of course, you were far away, too far for her to even see your neighborhood from her window, let alone your apartment, but just the fact that she knew she would be looking in the direction of your apartment if she looked outside her window infuriated her. Why did you have to be so good to her? You stopped smoking just for her, and that really was the true start of her downfall. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? Ever since she opened up about the attacks she survived you've been crazy attentive to everything she was feeling, noticing even the minute details about her mood shifts.

Somehow, despite only knowing you for a relatively short period of time, Tara was absolutely certain you wouldn’t turn out to be a Ghostface. Maybe worse than even that was how sure Tara was that if she confessed and you returned her feelings that the two of you would just stay together. That you would never break her trust or her heart.

And that just made her afraid that one day she would do that to you. Because there was that feeling deep inside of her, that thought that maybe she did ruin everything she touched, and that she just wouldn’t know how to let you love her.

Yet at the same time, Tara knew she wanted that kind of love, that almost unconditional love, more than she wanted anything in the world. So, Tara picked up her phone and sent you a message.

~X~

You were bored beyond what you imagined was humanly possible. You were so bored you might actually consider doing schoolwork that was still far from the deadline. That's how bored you were. You weren't in the mood for a movie or some new TV show or a new book or anything that would reasonably take more than a few hours to finish, but you also weren't in the mood to go out and have fun, or go to a stupid party if Tara wasn’t there, or anything of that nature.

Luckily, just as you were about to lament on your ruined night, your phone rang and you jumped to your feet cheering loudly that there was even a smidge of distraction to be had tonight.

You placed your palms together in front of your face praying to whatever higher being that might exist. “Please be Tara, please be Tara, please let me annoy her tonight!” because you would not be that desperate to actually send the message first. Not after sending the first message four times in a row.

You plucked your phone off your charger and the screen lit up and you pumped your fist at your side. “Yes!” you exclaimed. It was Tara. “Oh, I love this girl!” your eyes widened when you said that.

Well, you did love her, and you knew that, and you knew how you loved her, how much, and how intensely. But you haven't really said it out loud and with that sudden realization the urge to annoy her faded away and you just opened the message she just sent you.

Tara: Let's meet up tomorrow

Please I'm bored

Well, that was direct and right to the point, just the way Tara always was, and you grinned like a fool because you would get to see her tomorrow instead of waiting for the next week's classes. So, you replied with a simple ‘Of course! Usual time usual place?’

It took Tara less than a minute to reply, and you've never thought a simple ‘yes’ would make you this happy.

You walked back to the bed and just fell on top of it, still grinning. You loved this girl. You loved her so damn much and she didn't even know it and maybe, just maybe you could confess tomorrow. Just see how it goes. At least you won't be painfully stuck in friendzone and things would be clear, you would know if you should give up on these feelings or if you would just have to wait for some time until she got more comfortable. You understood perfectly well just how difficult opening up would be for Tara, and all you really wanted was to know if there was even the slightest chance that she might one day reciprocate your feelings.

~X~

She must have done something right lately because all of a sudden and without even considering all of those things Tara ended up being really lucky. First of all, she didn't have classes today, Sam was working, and all of her friends had classes, so no one was free to hang out with her. Not even Chad and he was the most relaxed about classes out of all of them. At least before the exams, once the exams were going then he was the one worrying the most.

That would probably be something you and Chad could bond over. You had the same annoying nonchalant approach before the exams only to completely flip it once exams actually started. She still smiled, because somehow, despite everything, she found that endearing.

The usual spot was your code of sorts, for a small secluded spot in the park that Tara found when she first came to New York, back when she felt the need to escape from everything and pretend she was just a normal teenager. And you came to appreciate the spot as well, so instead of hanging out in a café bar or some other place, one of you would get the drinks and the other some snacks and you just go and sit at the park. And it worked well, because not only was it a nice place where she could breathe easier, but it had designated spots for picnic, so that was just another plus in its own way.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she walked through the park toward the place where you would meet up. The basket filled with your favorite food felt a lot heavier than it really was. You weren't really a flowers kind of girl, or rather Tara wasn't, she just felt that would be a bit too on the nose and she wants to be a bit subtle about everything. Although… There was nothing subtle about being twenty minutes early.

She picked a good spot for the picnic. The one with a nice shade, far enough from the people walking through the park, and light fresh breeze blowing through her hair bringing in the scent of the flowers blooming in the park.

“Guess we are both early,” Tara jumped when she heard your voice and flipped around to see you standing there sheepishly rubbing the back of your head, all the while holding a bag filled with a couple of bottles of probably juice if she had to guess. You were kind of boring like that, not really consuming alcohol, but she guessed that would make Sam like you more because you weren't some party animal.

“Damn it, you scared me!” Tara put her hand over her chest trying to calm her heart rate down. Getting scared was not one of her plans for the day!

Your eyes widened and immediately she could see the guilt on your face. “I'm sorry! I should have texted you or something, I just didn't want you to rush if you weren't here and-“ you facepalmed, you didn’t forget about anything, you just got eager to see her and she wasn’t expecting you. “God, I'm such a fool for scaring you like that!” there you were being the caring, gentle dumbass she fell in love with.

Tara smiled widely, unable to restrain her reaction. “Hey, it's fine, come on, let's just sit down and start this again, OK? Shit, look at us,” Tara laughed as you joined her, still looking at her apologetically. “We're like two teenagers trying to go on their first date instead of hanging out as friends,” she chastised herself and you to an extent because you were both nervous and she couldn't wrap her head around why you were nervous. She was the one who intended to confess her love for you… unless…

No, that couldn't be right.

The two of you knelt down on the blanket and began taking things out of the bag you brought, and the basket Tara brought. “You really went all out! And it's all homemade!” you commented, and Tara just knew you could see the blush on her face.

You only complimented her cooking, once granted she only cooked for you once, and ever since then has been practicing, wanting to impress you once more.

“I just grabbed the leftovers,” of course she wasn’t going to tell you the truth. She would die of embarrassment if that happened, but you knew, you probably knew every single time she uttered a ridiculous lie just to save face.

You snorted at that. “Of course, of course, I wouldn't dare to imply the great Tara Carpenter would prepare food for an occasion this beneath her,” you laughed and despite the joke you just said something just didn't feel right about it. It annoyed Tara more than she ever imagined it would. She just hated that there was a certain sense of self-deprecation within your voice.

So, Tara reached up, grabbed you by the chin and pulled you closer. “Don't you dare ever think that,” she leaned in, intending to kiss you and get all of this confession bullshit out of the way, and just show you how she felt instead. But then you smirked and pulled away from her and her hand was just left hanging in the air, empty, while her lips remained stuck, slightly pursed as she intended to kiss you.

“Work for it, Carpenter,” you did not just say that. You did not just deny her of the kiss she wanted for so damn long.

“What the fuck?!” Tara just stared. You actually did that to her. “Work for it? How do I- I mean- You know-“ she paused, taking a deep breath. “Was I reading this all wrong,” she gestured between the two of you. “And you actually don’t feel the same way? Y/N, I can take it if you don't feel the same way, I'm not some-“

You interrupted her by placing the tip of your finger on her lips and snickering and now she was just confused. “I do feel the same way, I love you too, Tara,” you said it so easily even if she didn't, even if she wasn't all that sure she could say those three words anytime soon, despite how genuinely she felt them. “I just want you to work for the kiss. You've been a pain in my eyes for so long, I deserve this!” you laughed and took a bite of the sandwich she so carefully prepared, choosing all the ingredients you loved, and here you were saying she had to work for the kiss.

“What do you even mean by work? How?! Tell me how?!” she demanded red in the face from the anger and the embarrassment and because she was denied of what she wanted and like a petulant child that was suddenly rejected she was just about ready to throw a tantrum.

And that wasn't like her. She was denied so many things as a child, it wasn't in her nature to throw a temper tantrum, yet with you she really felt like that. She felt like the way you were loving her, even when you were just friends, was allowing that child within her to come out for perhaps the first time in her entire life.

“Ask for it, you can’t just take it,” you winked at her. “Come on, now, Tara, all you have to do is ask,” oh, you were enjoying this. You got your victory. You knew she felt the same way that you did before you even uttered a single word and here you were eating it all up like the menace you were.

“I'm just not gonna do it,” Tara pouted and refused to look at you even if she knew you would just shrug and keep eating the sandwich.

“Whatever works for you,” you were being way too nonchalant about this and she should have been elated that you felt the same way that she did, but this was infuriating in so many ways. Of course it had to be like this with you it couldn't be just an easy, simple confession, followed by a soft kiss, followed by a passionate kiss that would threaten to consume both of you. No, it had to be this complicated and difficult because that's who you were and that's who she was. She was Tara fucking Carpenter and every single thing in her life just had to be complicated.

Well not this time.

“Let me kiss you,” she leaned in and you burst out laughing backing away once more not allowing her to claim her reward.

“That's not how you ask, dumbass,” you just laughed and sure, fine, she could play that game too.

“I want to kiss you,” you were still leaning away and she faked a smile, speaking through gritted teeth. “Come on, Y/N, people are watching. They're looking at me leaning closer to you and you are not working with me here,” she was working hard for it and she had the right to her hard-earned reward.

“Not the magic word, Tara,” surely you weren't going to make her actually ask for it! You loved her back, why was this so complicated! She even licked her lips to tempt you, and she saw you looking down on her lips, she knew you wanted to kiss her as well! You just weren't giving in.

Fuck…

“Please, can I kiss you?” there. She asked. You smiled and didn't back away as she leaned in and that was all she needed to just go in and press her lips against yours for a heated, passionate kiss. And when she pulled back, she truly was rewarded by getting to see you being a stuttering, embarrassed mess. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked and stuck her own tongue at you, the tongue that was mere seconds ago inside of your mouth because of course she couldn't go for a soft kiss for the very first kiss. She had to be intense with everything that's included.

Especially with this because you deserved to be loved just as intensely as you loved her.

Safe to say you failed to construct a proper sentence for the next twenty or so minutes. Frankly she was impressed it only took you that long to get your composure back and actually start putting words together in a way that made sense.

[strniohoeee]

Chris with a rockstar girl who sings and plays electric guitar 😏 like she’s very confident and can make him weak in the knees!!… also I love all your stories and writings 🫶🏻❤️

Her

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Chris is madly in love with his rockstar girlfriend, and can’t stop obsessing over her🎸

Warning⚠️: None, it’s pretty short sadly. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be smutty. I felt like not really but IDK🥹I still hope you enjoy tho!

Song for the imagine: Feel Good Inc.- Gorillaz

Chris POV

She was hot….so fucking hot. She was mysterious and dark, mean but nice. She was my wildest dreams in living flesh. She could make me crumble just by the way she looked at me. She was so powerful, and she was all mine.

I wasn’t too sure how I got her, I was the total opposite of her. I was foolish, dumb and oftentimes seen as immature. She liked all this about me, and I wasn’t too sure why when she was the textbook definition of Divine Feminity.

I would say we were the black cat and golden retriever stereotypical couple. I just followed her around with hella heart eyes as she ran everything. Confidence oozing out of her pores. Most people didn’t think we were dating, but she always put it out there.

“Who’s he?” Some random band guy would ask

“That’s my boyfriend and his names Chris” she would respond with a blunt expression

Most times they would scurry away at her demeanor. She was very confident and powerful, but she was the sweetest most loving girl I’ve ever spoken to. She had my heart melting constantly.

She was a singer and played the electric guitar. She was part of a band that was pretty popular in our area. Always playing gigs, and I tagged along. Cheering her on from the front row, or from backstage. I loved my baby

Her voice when she sang….sent chills down my spine. For someone who was soft spoken with me she sure knew how to make her voice hoarse and raspy as she sang. Sending chills throughout my whole body.

The way her fingers worked quickly against the guitar, and how her head went back as she held a note. I was ready to drop to my knees for her.

Her dark red lips…so plump staining the microphone as she sang every song. The way her long hair flowed as she moved around. Her tattooed arms shining bright against the lights reflecting down on her. The way her veins would stand out in her neck as she would hit one specific note in one specific song. It was my favorite song, and she was my favorite singer.

I would find my jaw slack, my pupils blown and my knees weak. She was so fucking beautiful.

The way she ran her hands through her hair sent shock waves through my brain. How could I possibly be dating someone as talented and gorgeous as her.

I was beyond head over heels for this girl, and I couldn’t figure out how to control myself.

I was at one specific show right now standing on the sidelines watching her.

She was currently doing a cover of DONTTRUSTME by 3OH!3. The way her voice flowed through my brain, I swear I was being hypnotized. How does one cover a song, and make it sound so fucking sexy.

After her set she went backstage, and I met her there

“Amazing show baby” I said walking in

“My loveeeee thank you” she said smiling bright and opening her arms for a hug

“I swore I was hypnotized” I said kissing her

“I try” she said winking at me

Fuck she was making me weak in the knees just by winking at me.

“So beautiful and sexy and dark” I said to her biting my lip

“Ouu you might want to watch how you speak, or I’ll act out” she said looking at me shyly

“Maybe you should” I said looking her her through half lidded eyes

“I have another set in five minutes baby” she said pouting

“Noo” I said pulling her in for another kiss

“I know baby, but later on tonight” she said winking

“Mmm yes watching you for another hour will work me up some more” I said rubbing my hands down her sides, snaking my arms around her back and giving her ass a squeeze

“Behave now” she said looking up at me

“I am…I promise” I said looking down at her

“Let me finish this set, and I’ll make all your wishes come true” she said running her hand down my chest

“Sounds amazing” I said winking at her

She got ready for her next set, and I sat there watching her in a trance. God this was the woman for me.

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed this one I’m sorry it was short. I wasn’t too sure how to make it super long. I’m not really experienced as far as like a rockstar girlfriend😭😭

-J💅🏽

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

A Court of Fire & Masks

Eris Vanserra x OC

Chapter 8

Summary

Penelope enters the glamorous yet treacherous world of Autumn Court life, where appearances are everything, and even the slightest misstep could ruin her families reputation. As the youngest daughter of a noble family, she's expected to smile, nod, and blend in - just like her older sister. But when Penelope's curiosity about inter-court politics leads to a forbidden mention of unrest, she quickly realizes she may not have the weaponry for the brutal battle of social court, especially when she runs up against heir to the court, Eris Vanserra.

Content Warnings:

Emotional manipulation

Verbal and emotional abuse

Power imbalances

Anxiety and panic

Mentions of sexism & misogyny

Dark themes of cruelty

Word Count:

Tagged: @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @ambivalence-is-me @rcarbo1 @aaliyahmorielle @feyrfly

The morning Penelope was set to leave for the Autumn Manor, a faint mist clung to the frost-dusted fields, shrouding the estate in a cool, silvery light. She stood just outside the main entrance, surrounded by the final bustle of servants and staff arranging her trunks beside the stone steps. The chill nipped at her cheeks, but the tightness in her chest felt colder, sharper. 

Her mother hovered nearby, orchestrating the movement of each trunk with a sharp eye and clipped commands. No one was safe from her venom this morning. Penelope knew that the meticulous oversight was not just to ensure she had the proper attire for attending court. It was more than that. It was control – her last futile attempt to extend her reach even as Penelope slipped beyond it. She wondered if her mother’s expression, pinched and severe, was born from anger at losing her grip or from somewhere deeper, quieter fear. 

Whatever it was, her mother’s tension spoke volumes, each barked order a declaration of all the things she wished she could say to Penelope herself. Penelope stood there, hands clasped tightly in front of her, watching as trunk after trunk was stacked and secured. 

Light footsteps fell behind her, and Penelope turned to see Persimmon approaching. She was already dressed for the day, but shadows of sleep still lined her eyes. In her hands, she clutched a large cup of steaming tea, the fragrant steam curling lazily into the cold air of the morning. Persimmon’s gaze swept over the neat rows of trunks on the frosted lawn, her brows knitting together for a brief moment before she let out a long sigh.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice warmer than usual. 

“Morning,” Penelope replied. 

Persimmon took a slow sip from her cup, studying her sister from the corner of her eye with quiet intensity. “How’d you sleep?” she asked, the rim of her cup resting just below her chin as though to pull in some of the heat. 

A small, dry chuckle escaped Penelope’s lips, condensing in the chilly air like a wisp of fog. “Terribly. If I got more than a few hours, I’d be surprised.” 

“Nervous?” Persimmon asked.

“Terrified,” Penelope admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. The weight of the word seemed to sink into the frost-covered ground. 

Persimmon’s mouth quirked into a half-smile as she took another sip of tea. “I can imagine,” she said. 

Penelope shifted her feet, her boots clacking against the marble stairs. “What has you up so early?” she asked, casting a sideling glance at her sister. 

Persimmon’s smile widened slightly. “Did you really think I was such a cruel sister that I wouldn’t see you off properly? Come on, Pen.”

“We said our goodbyes last night at dinner,” Penelope replied, a faint hint of protest in her voice. “You really needn’t trouble yourself.” 

Persimmon rolled her eyes. “Of course I wanted to wish you well, but I also wanted to watch how Mother seemed to be holding up.” 

Both sisters turned their gaze toward their mother, who was busy berating a flustered servant over the precise arrangement of a hat box. Her voice, sharp as a whip, cut through the morning air, making even the most seasoned footmen pause. It was almost comical, if not for the tense look on the staff member’s face. Penelope and Persimmon exchanged a wince both knowing too well the receiving end of such scrutiny. 

“You know, Pen, it really is quite cruel of you to leave me alone with her,” Persimmon said, a mock pout crossing her face as she tried to suppress a chuckle. 

“You’ll be fine,” Penelope replied. “You’ve handled her on your own before.��

Persimmon tilted her head, feigning a serious expression. “You’re sure Lord Eris can’t use two advisors?” 

Penelope’s laugh burst out before she could stifle it, a welcome warmth curling in her chest. “Somehow, I think we might be a bit much for the Autumn Court. Even for him.”

Persimmon grinned, the humor in her eyes a temporary reprieve. “Well, just remember to send word if he needs additional help, or you find yourself needing an advisor,” she said, her tone half-teasing, half-serious. “I’d hate for you to have all the fun without me.” 

Penelope nodded, the smile on her face faltering as she glanced back to the lawn, continuing to bustle with movement. 

“Have you seen father this morning?” Persimmon asked, taking another sip of her tea.

Penelope’s brows arched as she crossed her arms, not from the cold but from a simmering annoyance that had been gnawing at her. “He left early, claiming he had business to attend to,” she said, her voice edged with a mix of bitterness and disappointment. “But in truth, I think he just didn’t want to be here when I left.” 

Persimmon’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. “You cannot fault him, Pen,” she said, lowering her cup and meeting her sister’s narrowed eyes. “While I admit that the male is a spineless coward, he’s also watching his daughter rise above his own status, even if it’s temporary. That can’t be easy on his pride.”

Penelope scoffed, her eyes narrowing more. “Yes, well, for someone who is supposed to be the elder between the two of us, I thought he might manage to set aside his ego for just one moment. Just to say goodbye.” 

Persimmon’s eyes softened, the teasing in her voice fading. “I think you’re giving him more credit than he deserves,” she said. 

Before Penelope could respond, the sound of hooves clattering against the gravel caught everyone’s attention. Penelope squinted into the treeline, her breath hitching as a familiar chestnut horse emerged, its rider straight-backed and unmistakable, even in the soft, silvery morning light. 

“Lord Aiden,” Persimmon murmured, her eyes widening as she turned to her sister. The surprise was mirrored in Penelope’s expression, a flicker of guilt gnawing at her stomach. He hadn’t mentioned he would come to see her off, or perhaps he would make a final attempt to stop her. 

Aiden rode up with the easy confidence that naturally came to him, dismounting with practiced grace. His boots hit the ground with a solid thud as he handed the reins off to a stable hand who seemed to appear from thin air. His eyes, those familiar storm-blue depths, found Penelope immediately. A softness settled over his features when their gazes met, an intimacy that made the distance between them feel smaller, almost suffocating. 

Their mother, who had been reprimanding a servant over the scuffing of a trunk, froze mid-gesture. Her sharp eyes swept over Aiden, assessing every detail of his demeanor. The atmosphere tightened as she approached, her expression controlled, a polite smile curving her lips but not quite reaching her eyes. 

“Lord Aiden,” she called out, her voice adopting a polished tone, honeyed. “What a lovely surprise to see you here so early.” 

Both Aiden and her mother met at the base of the steps. He inclined his head in polite acknowledgement but quickly returned his focus to Penelope. “Lady Estelle, I couldn’t let Lady Penelope depart without a proper farewell,” he said with a gentle warmth in his voice. 

Penelope’s chest tightened at his sincerity, the guilt twisting deeper inside of her. She forced a smile, stepping down to meet him. “Aiden, you didn’t have to come,” she said, her voice striving for lightness but failing. 

His eyes softened further, a small, knowing smile tilting his lips. “I think we both know I did,” he replied, the words quiet. 

Lady Estelle’s gaze darted between them, every shift of her eyes a calculation. She seemed to study Aiden’s manner, parsing out whether he bore anger or resentment. “Have you had breakfast?” she asked, her voice smooth but with a trace of eagerness. “The staff would be delighted to prepare something for you, I’m sure.” 

Aiden looked over Lady Estelle. “You’re very gracious, my lady, but I’ve already eaten.” 

“Perhaps a cup of tea then?” she persisted, her tone training for casualness. 

From the top of the steps, Persimmon observed the exchange with a light chuckle. Lady Estelle’s eyes snapped to her eldest daughter, a silent, sharp rebuke that made Persimmon’s smile vanish as quickly as she straightened. 

Aiden’s smile remained polite, but his gaze was meant for Penelope alone, softening the moment she met his eyes, a blush rising unbidden to her cheeks under her mother’s relentless hospitality. “Of course, Lady Estelle, a cup of tea would be wonderful,” he replied smoothly, and he chuckled slightly, only so much that Penelope could see. 

Lady Estelle clapped her gloved hands together, the gesture rehearsed and bright. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed, only for her expression to slip into a sharp edge as she turned over her shoulder and barked, “You! Fetch Lord Aiden a cup of tea.” 

The young maid, startled into motion, turned pale but managed a quick curtsey before darting up the stairs of the main house, her footsteps quick and uneven. Persimmon shifted to allow her passage, casting a glance back down with an eyebrow slightly raised. 

Lady Estelle turned back, her mask of pleasantry firmly back in place. “Do forgive us for the state of the lawn, Lord Aiden. Penelope’s departure has necessitated quite a bit of packing. And, of course, Lord Eris was adamant that my husband not be inconvenienced by the matter of transport.” 

Aiden’s brows lifted in subtle surprise, his tone taking on a hint of question. “I didn’t realize Lord Eris would be escorting Lady Penelope himself.” 

A flush of heat crept up Penelope’s neck, and she found herself speaking before she could stop. “I’m sure he won’t be personally escorting me – just sending a carriage.” The need to defend Eris, to soften any perceived impropriety, caught her off-guard. But, Aiden deserved to feel reassured, even if she couldn't quite articulate why. 

“Well,” Aiden said, straightening the lapels of his jacket, “it’s good to know the heir has taken such measures.”

“Indeed,” Lady Estelle chimed in, the approval forced. 

An awkward pause settled between them. Aiden’s gaze, full of unspoken words, lingered on Penelope, while Lady Estelle’s eyes drilled into the side of Lord Aiden’s face, reading, calculating. Penelope’s gaze had dropped, her fingers flexing nervously against the fabric of her skirt, wishing she could disappear into the frost covered stones at her feet that she was staring at. 

Persimmon’s voice, light but pointed, finally broke the silence. “Mama,” she called down, “perhaps we should give Lord Aiden and Penelope a moment alone. I’m sure the servants have a few trunks upstairs needing your approval and Penelope and Aiden would appreciate to say their goodbyes in private.” 

Lady Estelle’s eyes darted back to Persimmon, a hint of hesitation creasing her brow as if she feared leaving Penelope unsupervised. The second prompting of Persimmon broke her debate. “Mama!” She repeated, firmer this time. 

Lady Estelle cleared her throat, the sound brittle as she adjusted her gloves. “Yes, of course.” Her words were clipped as she turned on her heel, grasping Persimmon’s arm as she swept back up the marble steps, her boots echoing through the morning air. 

Once the two had disappeared inside, Aiden let out a chuckle, though there was strain to it. “I wasn’t sure she would ever leave.” 

Penelope laughed lightly, shifting her weight as she met his gaze. “She certainly wouldn’t let you stand here without some form of hospitality forced upon you.” 

“She’s just being a good host,” Aiden said, his smile faint, his eyes studying her face as if memorizing every detail. 

Penelope nodded, the corners of her lips lifting. “She does love to be the hostess.” 

A brief silence stretched between them, the morning air pressing close, cool, and damp. 

Aiden’s tone suddenly grew more somber as he broke it. “So, today is the day.” 

Penelope’s eyed flitted to the frost-laced gravel, tracing the jagged patterns. “So it seems,” she murmured. 

Aiden stepped closer, “How are you feeling about it all?” 

Her lips curved into a quick, practiced smile – a shield as much as an answer. “Fine,” she replied crisply, and she realised much too quickly. “Excited, really. It’s good to finally contribute to the court, to feel like I’m doing something meaningful instead of just standing on the sidelines.” 

Aiden’s brow arched, searching her face. “Are you nervous at all?” 

“No,” she snapped, the word cutting with more force than she intended. Her fingers fidgeted against the pleats of her skirts. “I trust the heir knows what he’s doing. If he’s chosen me, he must see something valuable in me.”

Aiden’s smile was small, faintly reassuring – but seemed to be hiding something under the surface. Doubt? Concern? It was hard to tell. “I’m sure he does,” he said softly, his tone careful, almost too careful. 

The silence that followed coiled tightly around them. Penelope’s throat constricted as she fought the urge to fill it. But filling it meant more talking, and more talking meant more vulnerability – a risk she wasn’t sure she wanted to take. 

“Do you feel safe?” Aiden’s voice broke the quiet, low and hesitant. 

Penelope furrowed her brow, the question catching her off guard. “Safe?” she echoed. “What do you mean safe?” 

Aiden shook his head, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Forget I said anything.” 

But Penelope wasn’t going to let the question slide past. She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “No,” she pressed, her tone firm. “You don’t get to ask something like that and then shrug it off. What are you trying to say? Do you think I shouldn’t feel safe?” 

Aiden’s gaze dated to the treeline, his shoulders stiffening. “It’s not that,” he mumbled, his discomfort clear and palpable. “I just – nevermind.” 

“Aiden,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through his deflection. “If you have something to say, say it.” 

His eyes met hers, conflicted, before skittering away again. He sucked at his teeth, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. “I just… wonder if you feel certain that Eris’s intentions are purely political,” he said finally, each word slow and deliberate, as though they might detonate if spoken too quickly. 

Penelope’s stomach tightened. Her voice turned cool, edged with steel. “So you’re questioning the safety of my heart?”

Aiden’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with alarm. “No, of course not!” He said quickly. “I trust you, Penelope. I do.” 

“Then why does it sound like you’re questioning my judgement?” she demanded, her voice rising. “And what, exactly, gives you the impression that Lord Eris would have any interest in me beyond my political mind?” 

Aiden exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Penelope, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you mean?” she shot back. “Stop dancing around it and just say what you’re thinking.” 

He hesitated, his lips twitching as though testing different approaches. Finally, his composure cracked, his voice came out in a rush. “You’re young, Penelope. You’ve only been at court for a short time. You don’t know Eris the way others do. He has a reputation - for pulling females into his orbit, using them, and casting them aside when they’re no longer convenient. I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 

Penelope froze. The words cut deeper than expected. She knew Aiden’s concerns weren’t baseless–Eris’s reputation was no secret. And yet, the implication that she couldn’t see through such manipulations stung. Did Aiden really think she was so naive, so defenseless? 

She inhaled sharply, anger rising in her chest like a flame. “Do you honestly think I’m incapable of protecting myself?” she said, her voice low but vibrating with intensity. “That I’m so foolish I’d let Eris take advantage of me?” 

“That’s not what I said,” Aiden replied, but his voice lacked conviction. 

“No?” she countered, stepping closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then what are you saying, Aiden? Because all I’m hearing is that you don’t trust me to handle this on my own.” 

Aiden met her gaze then, his frustration flaring to the surface like embers stoked into flame. It was a side of him Penelope rarely saw, his usual calm giving way to something raw and unguarded. “I trust you, Penelope. But I don’t trust him.”

Her voice rose, sharp and accusatory. “Then why did you encourage me to do this? Why were you the one telling everyone it was a good idea if you were just going to turn around and act like I’m making a mistake? Aiden, do you see how that’s confusing?”

His jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek jumping as he struggled to find the words. “What else was I supposed to do, Penelope?” he snapped, “When you’re standing in front of the High Family, no isn’t exactly an option.”

Her eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across her face. “So if I’d come to you after Eris asked me to be his advisor, if it was just the two of us behind closed doors, you would’ve told me no?”

Aiden hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally spoke, his voice steady but hard. “I would’ve told you to do what you wanted to do.”

“Then why is this any different?” Penelope demanded, stepping closer, her words quick and unrelenting. “It’s still a choice, isn’t it? Or does it only count as my choice when it’s convenient for you?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Aiden’s expression darkened. He raked a hand through his hair, clearly torn, but there was no retreat in her stance, no room for half-measures. “It is your choice,” he admitted finally, his tone softening but losing none of its weight. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It doesn’t mean I won’t worry about what it’s costing you.”

“And you think I don’t worry?” Penelope countered, her voice cracking slightly, the anger in her chest colliding with something more fragile. “You think I don’t wonder every second if I’m making the right call? But I chose this, Aiden. I chose it. And you don’t get to stand there and act like I don’t know what I’m walking into.”

Aiden exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping as though the fight had drained from him. “You’re right,” he said quietly, the admission grudging but sincere. “You’re right. It’s just… hard to stand by and watch when I care about you. 

Penelope’s breath caught, but she didn’t let the moment soften her resolve entirely. “Then trust me,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Trust that I can handle this. Trust that I know what I’m doing – or at least that I’ll figure it out.”

For a long moment, Aiden said nothing, his gaze fixed on hers. He then sighed, a hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I don’t believe in you, Penelope,” he said. “I do. You’re sharp, you’re capable, and you’re stronger than most of the others in court.” He hesitated, his eyes flicking away before locking back on hers. “But this… it’s not just politics. It’s Eris. And that makes me more nervous.” 

“Nervous how?” Penelope challenged. “Because he’s powerful? Or because you think I can’t handle power?” 

Neither,” Aiden shot back. “It’s because power like his comes with strings, Penelope. Strings most don’t see until it’s too late.”

She blinked at him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Do you think I’m blind? That I don’t know what court is? Everyone has strings, Aiden. Everyone is pulling or being pulled. If you don’t think I’ve figured that out by now, then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” 

“That’s not fair,” Aiden said, his voice low. “I do know you. I know how absolutely stubborn you can be, how you dive headfirst even when you can’t see the bottom. And I know you hate asking for help even when you need it.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. Aiden pressed on, his tone softening even as he kept his ground. “I’m not saying you can’t handle this. I’m saying I’m scared because I care about you, Penelope. And I don’t trust Eris not to use that against you.” 

Penelope’s expression faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before she buried it beneath a scowl. “If you care so much, then why are you insisting on making this hard for me? Why can’t you just support me without hovering like some overbearing mother?” 

“Because supporting you doesn’t mean staying silent,” Aiden said, his words coming faster, his frustration bleeding into urgency. “It doesn’t mean watching you walk into a storm and pretending the clouds aren’t there. If I see something that could hurt you, I’m going to say something. That’s not doubt, Penelope–it’s care, and I’m sorry that isn’t something you’ve experienced much of.” 

Her lips parted to fire back, but she stopped, the heat of his words hitting her squarely. She looked away, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I don’t need saving, Aiden,” she said, her voice quieter now, but laced with defiance. 

“I know,” Aiden said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. “But needing someone to have your back isn’t the same as needing saving. And if you can’t see the difference, that’s what scares me the most.” 

The words landed between them, heavy and undeniable. Penelope swallowed hard, her throat tight as she tried to muster another rebuttal. But she hesitated. 

“And for what it’s worth,” Aiden continued, his voice almost a whisper, “I don’t think you’re blind. I think you see more than most of us. But sometimes, when you’re so focused on proving yourself, you don’t look at what’s behind you.”

Penelope inhaled sharply, her emotions tangled somewhere between guilt, anger, and something dangerously close to understanding. “I’m not going to fall, Aiden,” she said, her voice firm but quieter now. “I won’t.” 

Aiden’s eyes softened, but there was still a tension in his voice as he spoke again. “Penelope, listen to me. When you leave for the Autumn Manor, once you’re there, I won’t be there. If something happens–if anything feels off–you have to tell me. Write to me, send word through someone you trust. Whatever it takes.” 

She stiffened, her jaw tightening. “I don’t need to bother you with everything,” she replied, her tone brisk, almost dismissive. “I can handle myself.” 

“I know you can,” Aiden said, but he remained insistent. “But handling things on your own doesn’t mean putting yourself at risk because you think you have something to prove.” 

She looked away, her gaze settling on the frost-covered gravel again, but his words clung to her. She had found pride in the independence she was receiving, of her ability to forge ahead. Yet the thought of being at the Autumn Manor, surrounded by strangers, all with their own motives and plans, sent an unexpected flicker of unease through her chest and panging into her stomach. 

Aiden took a step closer. “Penelope, the Autumn Manor isn’t like home. You’ll be walking into a place where everyone has an agenda, and no one will think twice about using you to advance theirs. You’re brilliant, you’re strong, but you’re going to have to be alone there. And that’s exactly why you need to promise me something.” 

Her brow furrowed as she glanced up at him. “Promise you what?” 

“Promise me that if you feel like things are getting out of hand, or if Eris–” he paused, carefully choosing his words, “--if Eris steps out of line, you’ll tell me. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night or if I’m days away–I will come to you. I’ll make sure you aren’t alone in this.” 

Penelope’s throat tightened. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and it chipped away at the wall she so carefully maintained around herself. But leaning on someone, admitting she might need help? That felt like surrender, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“I’ll be fine, Aiden,” she said, her voice quieter now, but still edged with defiance. “I don’t need rescuing.”

“I’m not saying you do,” he replied, his tone firm but gentle. “But needing someone in your corner isn’t the same as needing rescuing. You don’t have to do this alone, Penelope. Not completely.”

She crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from the vulnerability threatening to creep in. But his words had struck a chord, one she couldn’t ignore. The truth was, she hadn’t thought much about what it would mean to be on her own at the Autumn Court. She’d been so focused on proving her worth, on showing everyone she was more than just a bystander, that she hadn’t considered the isolation—or the dangers.

Still, she hated the idea of admitting that to Aiden. “I’ll write if I need to,” she said finally, her tone reluctant. “But don’t expect me to run to you every time someone looks at me the wrong way.”

Aiden’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though the worry in his eyes remained. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Just… don’t let your pride get in the way if something serious happens, okay? Promise me that much.”

She hesitated, the weight of his concern pressing down on her. Finally, she nodded, though the gesture felt heavier than she expected. “Fine. I promise.”

Aiden let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, relief flickering across his face. “Good.”

But as the silence stretched between them, Penelope’s thoughts churned. She had spent so long convincing herself she could navigate anything on her own. Now, with Aiden’s words echoing in her mind, she couldn’t shake the growing unease. The Autumn Manor wasn’t just another challenge; it was a world she didn’t fully understand, and those in it she couldn’t predict. And for the first time, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—she had underestimated what she was walking into.

Hi friends - Apologies for the long gap in between writing. I've had some writers block and honestly just been experiencing some mental health stuff that needed to be at the forefront. I am trying to pick this back up though so expect more soon!

[mondaymelon]

meet me backstage.♡ (6reeze x gn!reader)

(written handcanon style with aether, xiao, venti, kazuha, heizou, and wanderer)

(a/n) this took me so long so im praying it doesnt flop (人´口`)

total wordcount - 3,382! (extra long since i wasnt able to post yesterday)

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

aether ♡

aether, or better known as starbound✩, is someone you've known for a long time, even before his debut as an idol.

you know his potential better than anyone, so it's no shock to you when his popularity skyrockets, and he's even able to form a band named 6reeze. But as he gains more and more fame, with shows, practice rehearsals, vocal and dance coaching, board meetings, tours, and fan meet-n-greets filling up any free space in his schedule, suddenly, you conversations and hangouts grow scarce.

so you're ecstatic when he invites you to one of his shows even gifting you vip front row tickets.

you've never actually been to one of his performances before, mostly because aether shoots it down each time, mumbling something about how it's "embarrassing beyond belief," his face and tips of his ears flushed red each time you bring it up.

you don't catch a wink of sleep the night before the show - too busy preparing all the fanmerch you've so lovingly compiled.

in the morning, you're blown away of how many people are gathered at the entrance, and by noon the crowd has just about settled into their concert seats - yours being in the very front row.

the performance blows you away - every part of it is immaculate. all of their moves are fluid and rhythmic, but still, aether is the one that stands out to you the most.

the way his golden hair whips back and forth as he moves, the way his eyes light up when he spots you in the crowd, the way his smooth voice rings out from the stage, and the way his face is flushed from effort as he dances to the beat. then, he extends his hand outward, blowing a kiss to the crowd, and about half of the audience squeals with excitement and swoons dramatically. and then, so subtle you almost miss it, he locks eyes with you and mouths silently, "meet me backstage."

and when you do, glancing around the rooms for any sight of the blonde man, something, or rather, someone, pulls you in, grabbing you gently by the wrist and pushing it against the wall. you're barely able to register aether's familiar golden hair and eyes before he leans forward, closing the gap between the two of you, his hot breath fanning your face as he presses his lips against yours. and just for a moment, everything fades away until the only thing you can see before you and the only thing you can feel is him. and only him.

"that kiss was for the crowd. this one was for you, sweetheart.♡"

xiao ♡

alatus was his stage name.

and he was cold to you, but that wasn't really a surprise to anyone. he was cold to many and all. and it wasn't like it bothered you, either. you were glad to know him.

so when you heard that the indifferent, unapproachable xiao was an idol, and in a group no less, it was utterly shocking. you just couldn't picture the male on a stage, dancing to pop music and sending crowds of fangirls swooning.

...okay, maybe you could imagine the last part. even you would admit that xiao was handsome. dark, silky smooth hair with startling teal highlights and honey-like amber eyes... it would just about sway anyone's resolve, not excluding yours.

as for your relationship with the man, the two of you had been classmates for years, and over that time you had grown pretty close to him, or at least, you'd like to think. you still kept in touch with him, and xiao occasionally invited you out to dinner or to come over, but it had been a while since the last invite. from what he had told you, his schedule had gotten a lot busier. it was a shame.

after a moment of thinking, you come to a brilliant idea - you'll attend xiao's next performance and surprise him! just imagining the shocked look on his face immediately brightens your mood.

so when you do settle in your front row seats, waving your glowing teal lightsticks, and xiao finally turns around and spots you, he does a complete double-take. his mouth hangs slightly open and his golden eyes widen by just a fraction, and you can see his confusion slowly spread across his face.

"what are you doing here??" he mouths to you frantically.

you just grin at him and cheer louder.

"ugh... you- meet me backstage after this."

that's what he had said. so why wasn't he here?? you had searched all the rooms up and down, bumping into several assistants on the way who sent you disapproving glances, yet you had yet to catch sight of the dark-haired male. you let out a long sigh, slumping your shoulders and preparing to give up when a low whispering of "over here." came from the closed door right across from you.

with a moment of hesitation, you swung open the door, only for someone to tug you inside and shut the door behind you, enveloping the room in darkness. through the faint light that filtered through the window, you could see the figure of xiao, his hand holding yours as he scowled at you.

"you surprised me, you know. i almost messed up my choreography."

"ah... sorry... it's just that we haven't been able to talk for a while and i was hoping that-"

something cut you off. but it wasn't xiao's voice, it was the sensation of his lips against yours, sending sparks flying across your skin. heart racing in your chest, you shoved him away, hands pushing against his chest. you glanced up at the man, trembling. "what- what was that for??"

"i had to shut you up somehow, didn't i♡ ?"

venti ♡

you're venti's roommate - so in short, you're his babysitter. and there's no end to the trouble he causes.

there were many a time where he would come home absolutely wasted, reeking of alcohol and red in the face as he stumbled around, usually waving an empty wine bottle about.

still, he kept up on work on his idol side of life. his stage name was barbatos, but his band members all deftly called him tone-deaf bard. for his group, 6reeze, he was one of the songwriters and the main vocalist. and his voice was no joke, it really was astounding. his vocal range was stellar and his voice was smooth - not to mention that he was always on key. so... yes. as reckless as he may be, venti still had his work going for him.

so when he finally invites you out to accompany him on one of his tours, you steadily agree, curious on how they’ll perform.

and you’re not disappointed.

their concert blows you away, the bright colors and shining lights, the stage effect and the wonderful choreography - everything is incredible, and you can feel your heart racing just looking at them, just hearing venti’s melodic voice singing out the lyrics that you’ve already memorized.

“fly you away, riding the day

open up your heart, darling

you’re a work of art~

and you’ll never have to be alone

cause we’re standing with you

just ring my number on your cell phone,

let’s raise our voices in song, yeah!”

maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear you can feel a gust of wind inside the stadium, blowing past you as venti continues to sing, the lyrics ringing out clearly. then, he twirls in a circle, sending the crowd a winking grin. as he meets eyes with you, he mouths you the words “meet me backstage after this~!” before sticking his tongue out and finishing the choreography.

following the rushing crowd outside, where they’re hoping to get one of 6reeze’s autographs, you instead head into the stage rooms, stepping inside and spotting the twin-braided man sitting on one of the tables, absent-mindingly spinning a pen around while kicking his legs back and forth. as he spots you, he drops his pen, teal eyes lighting up as he hops off the table and grips you into a hug.

“hehe, thanks for coming today!”

“it’s no problem at all. the performance was really good. i’m impressed.”

“then… if i did so well, can i have a little reward in return?”

“uhm… what do you-”

something warm presses against your face - venti, and you can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he leans forward and kisses you, grinning his usual carefree grin all the while, a light red dusting his face. it’s warm, unbelievably so, and you can feel the heat spreading across your body like wildfire. when he finally pulls way, he smiles at you.

“that was what i meant♡.”

kazuha ♡

kazuha had a way with words.

every syllable that left his mouth was elegantly phrased, the way the letters rolled off his tongue with such ease, and the way his voice just sent a wave of calm washing over you was almost addicting.

so when your closest friend became an idol named wanderai, a mix between the word wandering and samurai, you immediately decided to be one of his biggest fans. you frequently sent him fan letters, signing your name as "anon", always gushing about how flawless his movements and singing is, completely entranced. and he did respond, always sending you back small thank you’s and his polite gratitude. as courteous as he replies were, receiving his letters always made your day. scratch that, your entire week.

then you heard there would be a fan meet-n-greet after the next concert - so of course you had to attend! you sat through the entire performance, completely allured by kazuha's fluid dance movements throughout all of the songs and his rhyming verses. when its finally over, you try to rush ahead of the crowd, knowing full well that there will be a swarm of fangirls who will shove and push and... bite to get a earlier spot in line. it had happened before.

yet, despite your efforts, you aren't able to get the first spot in line, or any of the first spots. instead, you're stuck in the back, thirty-ish place or so. it's not that bad, per say, but you had wanted to get to meet your favorite idol before he lost too much steam from having to answer hundreds of ravenous fans. it would have to do.

when you finally reach the front of the line, he smiles up at you politely, giving you a little wave from where he's sitting. "hello there."

"hey, wanderai! uhm..." you give him a letter - your piece of mail that you've prepared just for this moment. "i'm anon. thanks for... well, you know, existing, i guess." you stop there, already awkward. "a-anyways- i'm sure there's a lot of people behind me, so i'll save you the time and-"

"you're... anon??" the male's eyes widen as he takes the envelope, freezing his movements. he glances up to you, almost unbelievably, and just blinks.

"ah... yeah, that's me. didn't expect me to be here, did you?"

kazuha smiled, shaking his head. "it's a pleasant surprise. actually, after this..." he makes a gesturing motion, ushering you in, and lean forward as he whispers into your ear, "once i'm done with this, meet me backstage. please, wait for me."

"of course! then... i'll take my leave. th-thank you!" you dash away, face flushed red from the close contact, hoping that you didn't come off as too... fanatic.

and you wait. it takes a while, but that's too be expected. it's only been about half an hour, a lot shorter than you had predicted, when the white-haired male peeks inside the room, smiling when he spots you. "you're here."

"well, you told me to wait, so..." you laugh nervously, still blushing from the memory of kazuha's whispering voice gracing your ear. shaking your head, you grinned. "so, what was it that you wanted?"

"this."

then he moves in, his soft lips pressing against the side of your flushed face, his own expression quite red himself. he pulls away as quickly as he comes, glancing down at the ground as his face burns. "wh-what-" you can feel your heart rate increasing to rapid levels as you just stand there, eyes wide and trembling.

"that was a thank you, anon. for being by my side for all of this time♡."

heizou ♡

heizou is a clever man, even when he doesn't try.

and he's smart enough to hide his identity from you, especially since he knows that you'll completely lose your mind if you ever do find out. and it's only a matter of time until you find out that he's actually shiki, part of the world-famous boyband 6reeze. he's been lucky enough already that you aren't that much of an avid idol fanatic.

the two of you are sitting in the main room, one of his arms lazily across your shoulders as the two of you watch the television. heizou has a day off, and what better way to spend it than by doing absolutely nothing with his favorite person?

that's when everything just goes wrong.

you're bored at the constant torrent of ads, so you grab the remote from off the coffee table and start browsing through the channels, casually trying to find something better to watch. as you surf through the endless options, a familiar head of wine red catches your eye.

heizou spots it too, and immediately cringes, hoping you haven't seen it, but it's already too late. you glance at him, then at the tv screen where it's showing a close up of his face. "heizou... are you... did you commit some crime and is this your mugshot??"

"ah- well-" the usually level-headed man is trying his best to keep in his laughter at your absolutely confused expression. "it's not like that-"

"...heizou. you can be honest. tell me. am i harboring a criminal right now???" you turn the tv volume down - thank the archons - and turn to stare at the man with blown eyes.

"listen... they just are... interviewing me. for something." heizou's hammering heart had started to go down, thank the archons yet again, yet he was still a little red in the face and blinking a little faster than normal - all things that you noted silently.

"reaaalllyyy?" you sent the man a questioning look. turning up the tv volume again, the news interviewers voices were loud and clear.

"now then, shiki, how has this idol career affected your life?"

heizou watched in horror as he saw himself laugh slightly on the screen. "well, it's certainly made many things more awkward and embarrassing when meeting up with friends and family... but for the most part, it's been really rewarding! especially being able to meet so many great people, and by that i mean, my wonderful bandmates, of course!"

"oh? embarrassing, you say?"

"yeah. they always tease me about it too, but its always fun to meet up with them afterwards backstage. they sometimes even bring me flowers or snacks."

you turned off the tv, watching the monitor blink into black. you just sat there, hand on the remote and not moving. a gradual silence settled over the two of you. "...why, heizou? why didn't you tell me...? i would've helped you any way i could've!"

"...love. it's not like that. i just... i just didn't want to make things more awkward between us. i promise."

"how do i know you aren't just lying to me again?"

"then will this help convince you?"

and just like that, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to his embrace as he meets his mouth to yours. he catches you by surprise, even surprising himself.

thump. thump. thump.

the motion seemed to lift you up into the air and drop you somewhere high above the clouds, all you could feel was indescribable warmth and you could feel your face burn under his soft touch.

"h-heizou...!"

"is that enough of a reason to trust me one more time♡ ?"

wanderer ♡

as a good friend of all of 6reeze, you've also gotten to be pretty close with scaramouche. or, at least, that was what you called him.

if you really had to, you would call him kuni, or maybe even wanderer. but to you, kuni had always been scaramouche. the man had been part of a past idol group that he had quit a while back, and just recently had he joined 6reeze, where he had been named wanderer. yet to you, as a devoted follower of his past band, and himself, you still couldn't bring yourself to not think of him as scaramouche.

having only woken up seconds ago, you bring the constant ringing of your phone, which is buzzing away on your nightstand, to your attention.

"...hello?" you pick up the call, voice still groggy.

"what's up with you? just woken up?" scaramouche's usual tone of voice greets you. you can tell he's sneering just from the sound of it.

"...yeah, actually. half a minute ago."

"...it's two. in the afternoon."

"okay, and?"

"...you're hopeless. i was going to invite you to one of my concerts, but..." you could hear him shrug on the other side of the call, the sound of fabric rustling. "i'm not sure if i want to anymore."

you hastily sit upright, pulling on whatever you can find from your wardrobe before speedily making yourself as presentable as possible. "nono, i'm awake! it was a joke. IT WAS A JOKE!!"

you can hear the man scoff. "fine. here. i'll send the digital tickets your way. it's tonight. don't miss it." with that, he hangs up.

it takes you a while to get things prepared, and its almost already time when you do. quickly gathering up your things, you're able to make it to the concert hall in time to give the male a little wave before he heads onstage.

he acts like he doesn't see you, but that farce crumbles when he just scowls, embarrassed, before mouthing, "meet me backstage after."

so you do.

after the show passes, the event containing several songs that all shared a similar theme. maybe it was because white day was coming up, but there were a surprising amount of… well, love songs. romance. it wasn't in scaramouche's nature, or you should say wanderer's, to sing those kinds of songs. you were already shocked enough that he had agreed. needless to say, the concert was flawless, and the audience seemed to think so too, wildly cheering and screaming out their favorite members' names. it was almost entertaining to watch.

"heeellooo? anybody there?" you peer about the empty rooms, wondering if your conscious has failed you. maybe scaramouche hadn't told you to go backstage after? maybe your brain just imagined it and was playing tricks on you?

those thoughts all dissipated as you rounded a corner and spotted the man sitting at one of the round tables. as his violet eyes landed on you, he let a small half-smile crack across his face. "it seems that our late contender has finally made it. took you long enough."

"hey!" he always acted like this, and it seemed that today, as lucky as it was, was not an exception. "nevermind that- why did you want me to come here again?"

"ah-" the boy suddenly looked a lot more... shy? that was not a typical sight. "i-i actually have something for you."

"oh?" now you were interested. this was not a normal occurrence by any means.

"here." he reached into his bag, which was sitting on the table, and pulled out a small wrapped box. "don't expect anything big, okay? i just got it because i... felt like it." with that, he handed you the box and watched you unwrap it with a nervous expression.

"it's a... necklace?" you stared in amazement as you held the pendant up to the light, watching the tear-drop shaped sapphire and amethyst shard glimmer with a thousand colors.

"do you like it?"

"more than anything." you smile, placing it around your neck and securing the locking chain in the back. "does it look good on me?"

"you don't even have to ask to know my answer, idiot♡."

masterlist ✩

@lume-nosity come get your kazuha and xiao ♡

@dizzy-sekai oh hey its your husband✩

[leapingbadger]

Hide and Seek

word count: 1043

notes: ties in a little to my story "Sunset" but you don't need to read that to understand this.

Read on AO3

Hunter sat, face towards the sun on the stone patio, a smirk on his lips. Giggles and shrieks came from inside the house. Omega was playing hide and seek with her “baby brothers” Stak, Deke and Mox. Judging from the noise, Hunter didn’t imagine any of them were winning.

Omega fell through the front door and onto the patio, “Huntah, you have to hide me,” she whispered, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of the game?” he replied, amused.

She rolled her eyes and brushed her blonde hair out of her face, eyes darting for another place to disappear. “I’ve already been under all the beds, a kitchen cupboard and behind a lamp in the living room.

“How did you hide behind a lamp?” Hunter asked, impressed.

She waved off his question with her hand and ducked under the bench he was sitting on.

“Omega,”

Just then Stak skidded onto the patio. “Where is she?” he asked, wild eyes

“I really don’t think you understand how this game works” Hunter chuckled.

“She’s won twelve games in a row. But I’ve got her this time” He sank to his knees, looking under the bench, the long wooden table and over the brick wall to the path beyond. “Ah! I thought she’d be here,” he said angrily.   

“Any luck yet?” Mox and Deke stuck their heads out of the door too.

“Nothing. She’s a ghost,” They all piled back inside the house to start the search again.

Hunter looked under the bench and couldn’t help but be proud. Omega was clinging to the underside, her arms and legs spread in an X shape. “Need a hand” he said, offering to help her extricate her from her current predicament.

She smiled, taking his offered hand to clambered out. “I really thought they’d get me this time,” she said, collapsing on the bench next to Hunter. “I guess climbing through the walls in Tantis was more useful than I thought.” She said it lightly, in the same sunshiny way she talked about everything, but a cloud had formed behind her eyes.

The smile faded from Hunter’s face too and he felt a twinge in his back that seemed to appear whenever Tantis was mentioned. “But we’re safe now,” he said, gazing out at the turquoise sea and breathing in the sweet, salty air of Pabu.  

“Uhuh” she agreed, leaning into his outstretched arm.

Hunter closed his eyes, again enjoying the warm sun on his face. A fresh breeze ruffled his hair.

“Huntah?”

“uhum?” he grunted, not moving from his contented spot. Soaking all the peace and warmth into his bones.

“You said we could be whatever we wanted to be now…”

Hunter opened his eyes and looked at her, his Omega. She was playing with the silver, Ingot necklace that he had given her. A remnant from his footlocker on the marauder. He had no idea how it survived the explosion.

The occasional part of the ship still washed up on Pabu’s beach. The chair from the gunners mount, a storage locker and the necklace, wrapped around some string lights.

“…what is it that you want to be?” she asked sheepishly

“That’s a good question, Kid.” He said with a sigh, “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Crosshair’s got his painting, Wrecker is fishing. I’m in school. You’re the only one who…” she trailed off, but he knew what she was trying to say.

Hunter had been the one pushing for a civilian life, a quiet life away from war. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he was the one struggling to adapt to it the most. He loved the quiet, the warmth and the wonder of the little things in their lives now. But he missed having a sense of purpose, a direction.

Tech had always called him the squad’s compass. Always pointing at the right track, but suddenly they had no direction. Their time was idle and serene. The only real job he had left was keeping an eye on his squad, and even that was pretty superfluous these days.

He turned and noticed Omega looking at him intently, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Is there something bothering you?” he asked

She looked down at her hands still playing with the necklace but was struggling to find the words, “I just…was thinking…I mean. You’re going off with Rex in a few days. And I know it’s just one mission but…what if you…what if you get hurt and we aren’t there to help you? Or what if you decide to leave, like Echo did,” the last part of the sentence fell out of her mouth almost involuntarily.

Hunter gave her a soft smile and sat up straighter so he could look her directly in her amber eyes.  “I’m not going anywhere, Kid. My place is with you and Crosshair and Wrecker.” He paused, thinking about the upcoming mission. It would be dangerous, he knew that. “I won’t be gone for too long. It’s just a favor for an old friend. This is my home. This is where I’ll come back to.”

Omega seemed satisfied with his reply. Her smile returned and she once again leaned into his arm and they both gazed at the sea. One of the islands many moon-yos jumped onto the stone wall in front of the patio, gazed at them both quickly and dashed off the catch up with its friends.

“GOTCHA,” Stak screeched.

Omega and Hunter turned around to take in the triumphant look on his face. He was sweaty, his dark hair brushed away from his eyes but sticking to his forehead.

Omega smiled at him, “were we still playing?” she asked before going back and looking out at the beautiful ocean view. It never ceased to impress.   

Hunter stifled a smile as Stak looked crestfallen. “Why don’t you check on Wrecker, I think he’s got a new batch of cookies coming out of the over any minute,” the cadet’s eyes lit up and he dived back through the door. The sweet scent wafted out to the patio, but Hunter and Omega remained on their bench, watching the ocean waves lap against the hull of the old boats. Just letting time pass.

[goreroll]

Criminals! AU

WARNING: a little disturbing topics and thoughts of the characters (which, by the way, have reached 18 years, just in case); obscene language.

Just as a small introduction, I want to say that I wrote and drew this today out of boredom, because all I did was first sit in the hospital for 6 hours, and then drive 6 hours to another city, so there can be a loot of crooked, incomprehensible, maybe a little cringe, but– OH WELL, I'm shutting up

In this AU, Velvet and Veneer are a little tougher than in the canon (well, they seem to be professional scammers slash thieves (or something like that) who use their fame and popularity to increase their wealth at the expense of completely illegal and, sometimes, immoral things like manipulating someone's feelings, setting up competitors and other frauds). They are both greedy (even more than in canon), a little more cunning, and much more ambitious, since now their goal is to spread their influence beyond Mount Rageous. (This doesn't take away from their positive qualities: despite all the quarrels, they take care of each other, often donate money to all sorts of orphanages, animal shelters and other places just because they want to, and not because of some selfish goals, and they're cuties patooties, and that's it).

Velvet often sends his brother to win the feelings of some girl they need for something, which is why he develops a persistent aversion to physical contact with women (with the exception of his sister, of course); with guys, everything is a little easier, because he knew from the very beginning that he was attracted to men, At that time, he had doubts about women. On one of these occasions, Velvet, alarmed that one too persistent policeman could get on their trail after one not too successful kidnapping, found out her appearance and personality and, after learning that she was their fan, gave Veneer the task to get closer to her and find out how far she had made her way in her investigation of this case. Personally, I imagined this policewoman as Orchid, but you might as well imagine Pamenilia or ur fem! OC.

I wrote a short piece of fic based on this story~

Happy reading! ♡

Veneer grimaced behind his mask and glasses when someone roughly pushed him, but still continued on his way to a slightly less noisy corner of the nightclub where one of their recently released songs was playing. When he saw his target, he put on his usual relaxed and friendly expression and casually sat down next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her twitch slightly, but she didn't react to his appearance in any way. With a mental snort, he took off his glasses and pulled the mask down to his chin before grinning and patting her shoulder, trying not to wince.

"Hey! Bored here, don't you?" he asked sympathetically, leaning his hand on the table.

The girl turned a slightly annoyed look at him before she froze and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks instantly turned red – either from the simple excitement of meeting her idol, or from something else that he didn't want to know.

"You… you… Veneer?" she asked in a strangled voice, to which he winked and laughed softly.

"That's right! I was looking for a quiet place to relax, and suddenly I saw a familiar face - you've been buying front row seats for three concerts in a row, haven't you?" he asked with a hint of playfulness in his voice. The girl giggled sheepishly.

"I… yes, I'm sorry, but it's very unexpected to meet YOU in place like this!" she said in an excited whisper, smiling broadly. "I'm sorry, I'm just really excited!"

Veneer just smiled wider, wishing mentally that he was as far away from here as possible. Velvet's order to get close to this girl annoyed him (is it possible that such a stupid woman can work in law enforcement? Where is this damn city going?) but he understood the importance of the situation. Perhaps his sister could have carried out this mission herself, but she decided that sending a Veneer would be the most logical thing – after all, their target was a girl. She doubted that her attempt to get close to someone in this way would be well received. Especially considering the fact that among fans, Velvet was the epitome of a some kind of queen who would not look at anyone below her standard (which height was about the of Rage Dome). Veneer was more accessible in this regard, which was another reason why he was sitting here now, trying not to twitch from her casual touches and maintaining a friendly atmosphere. The latter became more and more difficult.

Perhaps due to the semi-darkness of the club, or maybe because of the excitement caused by talking to him, the girl did not notice the subtle tension in his movements when he tried to assume a more comfortable position.

"Oh, then everything is clear," he replied with a laugh to some of her story, which he listened to only with half an ear. "So you don't hang out here often?" he circled the club space with his finger.

The girl giggled (God, that sound was really starting to annoy him) and also changed her position.

"Actually, this is my first time here. It was a bit of a hard day at work, so my sister dragged me here," she scratched her head in embarrassment. Veneer nodded sympathetically.

"Well, I understand about a hard day. Maybe you can't tell from us, but that's what the stars need to do… There is no way to relax for a second because of the preparation for concerts and interviews, rehearsals, running social networks, organizing meetings with various advertisers, and so on," he grimaced, and the girl nodded spellbound.

"I… I never thought about it that way," she admitted. "For me, you are an outlet after all these boring daily activities, so I probably unconsciously projected these onto your lifestyle. Um... Sorry."

Veneer waved his hand, indifferent.

"It's okay, I thought that way myself when I wasn't popular," he said, accepting the cocktail he had ordered earlier. "What about your job?" he asked casually, clutching straw in his fingers. "What do you and your sister do?"

She hesitated a little before answering: "I work in police. You know, something in between policeman and a detective… I don't know how to explain it more correctly. It's a pretty boring profession, in my opinion."

"Do you really find tracking down and catching criminals something boring? It sounds amazing to me!" Veneer grinned and noticed how she blushed slightly and began to wave away. "Don't deny it, your job is damn important. If it wasn't for you guys, the city would probably be a complete mess, considering how much craziness sometimes happens here!"

She smiled at him: "Thank you, sometimes there really aren't enough words like that. And about my sister… Well, she kind of works online… I really don't know exactly what she does. Mostly takes orders, I think," she shrugged.

"I've noticed that you don't know much about people around you for a cop," he teased her.

She snorted, finally starting to relax in his presence. "When it comes to my sister, you can't say anything for sure. We are twins," she said, "but completely different and, in general, not very close to each other. Our only point of contact is Velvet's and your's music. One day I decided to get a little closer to her and started listening to her favorite artists, after which a little bit… Got carried away."

Veneer snorted. "It's quite commendable that you tried," he said. "Velvet and I are also quite different, but this does not prevent us from loving and helping each other. I believe that with due diligence, you and your sister will become much closer."

The girl smiled gratefully at him, and they continued to talk about some useless things. Several times, Veneer came close to being exposed by some other people in the club, but, thank God, he quickly noticed unnecessary attention and put glasses on his eyes. His annoyance and disgust subsided a little when, after a long time, he did not notice any signs that she wanted to get closer than he was allowing her now. There were only two kinds of girls he could tolerate - those who attracted him as an aesthetic object, from whose image he could get inspiration for makeup or attire, and those who respected his personal space and behaved with him the same way as with any other person. And then there was his sister, who was somewhere in the middle.

Veneer was incredibly lucky that the policewoman was close to the second type. Because the first one sometimes irritated him so much that he couldn't restrain himself.

In addition, he thought several times with some desperation that if he had a guy in front of him, he would be able to get more fun out of the conversation. However, he was no choice.

About halfway through their conversation (or rather, the debate), he heard his personal phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. Apologizing, he turned it on and noticed a message from Velvet telling him to finish their conversation or whatever it is and, preferably, take her number before leaving so that he could contact her later.

Veneer licked his lips, put the phone back in his pocket and put a reluctant expression on his face. The girl understood everything without words.

"Are you leaving already?" she asked with a slight hint of disappointment. Veneer nodded and smiled apologetically.

"Yeah... Sorry. My sister has been looking for me for some time, which made her quite annoyed," he laughed and the girl followed suit, obviously finding it charming how much they were connected to each other. Veneer has heard about some crazy rumors in which he and Velvet allegedly had a quarrel and simply used each other to create a stage image of an ideal brother and sister. It was nice to refute him, even if only in front of one fan.

"Uh, okay, I think," the policewoman said when Veneer pushed aside an untouched cocktail that had too much alcohol in it for his taste. "Then... Good luck, probably..."

He mentally rolled his eyes at her uncertain tone and, before getting up, quickly took out a slightly crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

He coughed.

"I really enjoyed talking to you," he said, half sincerely, "That's why... Do you mind giving me your contacts?" he smiled charmingly and waved his hands at her incredulous look. "I'm not forcing you to do anything more than just friendly communication, don't worry! Simply... Sometimes Velvet's company only gets a little boring," he grinned and winked at her.

For the first time in quite a long time of their conversation, she blushed and, taking a pen from somewhere in her backpack, began to write down her contact details, in the process saying something that it was really too much of an honor for her, that she was very glad to have friendly communication, and that she hoped not to disappoint him. To be honest, she's already done it.

Smiling sweetly, he carefully folded the sheet into his pocket and, after saying goodbye to her warmly, quickly pulled a disguise over his face and left the club as soon as possible. Hiding in the shadow of one of the alleys and calling a personal driver, he leaned his back against the cleanest section of the wall and took a deep breath, trying to restrain the urge to vomit. Perhaps he should involve Velvet in the case. He closed his eyes, listening to the echoes of screams and loud music and inhaling the polluted evening air, and grimaced, crumpling the piece of paper in his pocket, as if it were just another useless check.

... When did everything get so complicated? When did an innocent childhood dream of love and recognition turn into what they were doing now? Veneer didn't know.

It took only a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity to him, before an inconspicuous car drove up to the alley, the driver of which, not surprisingly, was his sister.

The rest of the night was spent questioning, arguing, and planning the next steps, honed until Velvet could recognize them as perfect and beyond doubt. She seemed to glow – for the first time since she heard rumors that someone was trying to get to the truth about the recent infiltration of Rage Seum – and was now more relaxed and willing to cooperate. Even Crimp was surprised by her sudden good mood, because... Well... Velvet, who has not slept all night and has been annoyed for a long time because of something, obviously cannot have the mood to hum something and try to feed the exhausted troll with her oversweetened and burnt pancakes with jam.

Everything was starting to come back to normal. They were sure that they would be able to get the annoying policeman to stop the investigation or, if anything, to silence him forever before he could even hint at their guilt, so the atmosphere in their penthouse became much friendlier.

Veneer really didn't know how it all came to this. But, remembering the promise he had made, he couldn't complain or, worse, try to get out of it. Their sins and crimes had so intertwined him and Velvet with each other that it was simply impossible for one of them to get out of this vicious network without consequences. The veneer couldn't back down. He did not want to leave his sister alone to her fate.

He didn't want all the things he had done to be exposed like dirty laundry.

Death was preferable.

This all sounds like something not very fun, so catch silly doodles! (this is how I imagine canon V&V as thieves lol)

That's all, BYEE

[otakugurl-11037]

Who Let Vampires Run Rock n' Roll?! Female!Y/NxVampire Rockstar.

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Before you read, there's biting, mentions of blood, ghosts, and other spooky things. There is also a mention of smashing, but it's nothing too serious. Happy reading!

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2,000+ words.

Will be in multiple parts!!

Random question, but do you believe that the Ship of Theseus, if taken apart and replaced with the same parts, will it still be the same ship?

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“You got front-row tickets?!”

My friend, Mai, had practically squealed at me over the phone. She and I were obsessed with this indie alt-rock band we discovered called Crimson Nocturne and they just happened to have a concert just five minutes away from where I lived.

I managed to snag a good ticket since I had saved up my coupons over the years. I ended up knocking the price down from $150 to a mellow $45. Thank goodness I picked up the habit of mindlessly clipping coupons that I may or may not use.

“Aw man, I’m so jealous,” Mai continued. “I wanna go, but this work is horrrrible!! It just feels like it never ends, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I’m sorry you gotta do all that. I’ll be sure to send you some videos of the concert, okay?

“Okay,” she said, seemingly put into a better mood. “Oh, and lemme know if Lucien notices you! He’s been on a little streak with taking notice of the front-row fellas!”

While she giggles over the phone, I think of Lucien--the lead of the band. He’s the one who started it all, with his lyrical genius and creativity. He found his group rather quickly after showing off his skills during an impromptu talent show.

“I don’t think he’ll notice ME, though,” I say with a half-chuckle. “I’m not even wearing any of the band’s merch.”

“Daww, never say never! I bet that he’ll swing you around in his arms like lovers!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her silly statement.

“No, he won’t,” I say through giggles.

“He could drop everything and LEAP toward you, haha!”

Her and I share a hearty laugh for a good minute--man, she is the best friend I could ever ask for.

“Oh, shoot-”

“What, what’s the matter,” I ask, ceasing our laughter.

“I gotta go, I’m already 5 minutes late to this meeting I’m supposed to be in. See you!”

“Okay, see you later!”

She hung up and I put my phone in my jean pocket. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, doing a mental checklist of everything on my person.

Phone, check.

Wallet, check.

Car keys and regular keys, check.

Super cool Hello Kitty hairpin I found in the clearance aisle, check.

I adjust my hairpin before heading to the door, ready to go to my first-ever Crimson Nocturne concert.

•••

After going through a labyrinth and back to find parking, I approach the venue, which is a restored theater that was abandoned in the 30s until a company picked it back up. Before that band came to town, I figured that the restoration was a waste of money; nobody wanted to go inside because rumors were spread about it being haunted. I must admit that they did a wonderful job of sprucing up the place.

The neon lights and plants surrounding the large building breathed life and excellence in a way that nobody from the 30s could imagine. The plants, along with the lights, had every hue of color you could imagine. It’s as if you let a rainbow take hold of a coloring book.

I enter the building, which has the complete opposite vibe from the outside. I figure that it’s to fit the theme of who’s performing here. Beyond the long line of people who are practically hopping up and down for Crimson Nocturne’s future performance, there’s checkered flooring, fake blood oozing from the walls(or at least I HOPE it’s fake), toy bats hanging upside down from the ceiling, fake cobwebs, skeletons with glowing eyes, and posters of each of the band members.

Everyone except Lucien is wearing masks--either to conceal their identity or for an artistic reason. One thing about Crimson Nocturne is that they’ve always been particular about their works, nothing happens without a reason. Each mask has a marking on it--Lysander, the drummer, has a skull marked on his mask, Alexzander, the bassist, has a pentagram marked on it, and Alistair, the guitarist, has a single heart mark. Me and Mai have come up with theories as to what those mask markings could mean, but they were 3 am ramblings--we would always wake up the next morning to find out just how stupid those theories were and trash them.

Lucien, however, is another story. He has shaggy black hair, heavy eyeliner, red eye contacts, and he always wears a dark leather suit with combat boots that could eliminate military-grade bugs. Often, I’d notice him with fang caps over his canines or red eye contacts. Perhaps this is his way of standing out from the others.

I move up in the line, equally excited for this concert.

“Aaaah, oh my gosh, I can’t wait to see them,” a girl gushes behind me.

“Dude, this is my second concert with them! The whole band signed my poster last time I came,” a guy recalled.

“Is it bad that I would smash all of them, at the same time,” another girl said before being interrupted by a series of WHAT coming from what I assume are her friends. I didn’t join in, but it did make me turn my head in dumbfoundedness at how boldly she said such an outrageous thing.

I never found them THAT attractive since the majority of them are wearing masks. I could see myself getting with Lucien, but hardly. He’s way beyond my league.

The guy in front of me practically ran to the concert stage, revealing the ticket clerk. I walk forward and grab my phone from my back pocket, showing him my digital ticket. He puts his barcode scanner over it, lets it ding, and then hands me a complimentary keychain of chibi Alistair aggressively hugging a teddy bear, in which the poor thing’s eyes are popping out. Must be an intense hug.

“Enjoy the show, miss,” the clerk said.

Before my brain could let me utter a misplaced ‘you too,’ I said,

“Thank you!” Skipping over to the concert hall, I pocket both my phone and my new keychain. 

I make it to my front row seat, dodging some of the other onlookers. It is mind-numbingly cold in this large auditorium. Somehow, the AC unit could freeze an area that can house well over 3,000 people. The cold strategically attacked my weak points--my arms, hands, face, and the front of my neck. I internally regret not wearing my turtleneck sweater. 

Then the lights dimmed. People’s chatter descended into soft murmurs, the air got warmer, and a sense of nervousness loomed over our shoulders like a ghost was truly haunting this building.

What have I gotten myself into?

I’m too deep into this to leave, so I lean away from the back of my seat, bringing my forearms to my thighs. I probably looked like a wannabe CEO pulling that pose, but I didn’t care. It helped keep the nervous feeling at bay.

A single guitar riff played, breaking the crowd’s silence and replacing it with cheers and rambunctiousness. I sat up almost immediately with the sudden shift in energy. Then they crescendoed into a whole melody while the curtains lifted to reveal the band in all their glory, red light showering them all.

“Haaah, how are we doing tonight,” Lucien asked, his fake fangs on full display. 

The crowd cheered and Lucien feigned surprise.

“Wow, you guys must be doing great, huh? Haha, I appreciate all of you lovely little darklings coming out to see us tonight. It warms my heart knowing that you all could take me from down here, to up HERE.”

He brought his arm from the floor, kneeling down, to high up as he spoke. Everybody cheered again, happy to know that we’ve supported him well.

“But I digress,” Lucien continued, playing with the cord of his microphone. “We gotta show to put on, and I can’t have my friends just play this melody without me singing anything, right?”

The crowd hollered once more while I wooed, my voice surely being drowned out by the near-full house.

With that, he took off, his singing voice miles away from his talking voice. Hearing his voice on streaming is one thing, but actually hearing it live is another. His haunting voice and equally dark lyrics just seemed to entrance me. He wove a web of notes and like the fly I--and others-- are, we flew in, trapped in the spider’s grip. His voice is so mellow, yet rough around the edges, it’s perfect. 

Before I knew it, the song ended and the crowd’s uproar snapped me out of my trance. I woo along with them, looking at Lucien’s little smirk he had. He grabbed the mic once again.

“Up next is your favorite,” he said, dragging out the last word as if he wanted to tease us.

A familiar melody plays, and the crowd is sent back into an uproar. ‘Little Miss Wild Øne’ is one of the best songs they have ever conceived, and for good reason. It’s a deep, yet sensual song that somehow gives you that positive shiver down your spine.

Oh crap, I forgot to record this for Mai!

After fumbling with my phone, I reach the camera app and…accidentally take a picture. I quickly switch it to video and start recording, focusing on Lucien. As soon as I start recording, he starts singing.

“Ohhhh, how you are filled with sin, you feel like you cannot win, let it run through like a riiiver, and with that I shall deliver…”

The music pauses only to resume with Lucien screeching the word “evil.” With how intense that scream is, I could’ve dropped my phone. His diaphragm is also impressive, with how long he’s holding that one word. While screeching. 

Ohh, Mia’s gonna LOVE this…

Lucien stops with his screeching, allowing for his bandmates to continue playing their intense tune. He then turns his head towards my camera and does the unthinkable.

He winked. He freaking winked at the camera!!

A buzz goes through my body, having experienced such attention. How does something so small do something so grand to me? If it weren’t for the fact that this is a public space, I would’ve kicked my feet and giggled aloud. 

Ah wait, it probably wasn’t directed towards me….yes it was. I’m the only person in my row and column recording him right now.

He approached me from the stage, kneeling to extend his hand out. A smile was on his face, once again, showing off his teeth.

My heart was nearing the edge of bursting out of my chest, but I brought my hand closer to his, thinking that he was offering a high-five.

Nope.

He pulled me onto the stage, holding me with one arm. He held his microphone with his free arm as he leaned in to sing once again.

“Mm, ooh, baby, must you hurt me so? Nobody’s born clean, I’ve told you so,”

I just knew that I was sweating bullets. Being on stage, you become painfully aware of how many people are there, their full attention on you and you alone. Somehow, being so close to Lucien made me more nervous. Yet at ease at the same time, with how much confidence he’s exuding. 

I quietly sang along, so I wouldn’t feel like a sitting duck next to the Lucien.

“Raaah, why are you so scared? You knew what you signed up for, don’t act like you cannot comprehend. We’re only sinners after aaaaall… But don’t you worry dear, tonight I have something special for you, it’s coming near, it’s… HERESY!”

I can’t scream along with him. I’ve tried it before and my voice broke, like it literally broke. I had to talk to people with a text-to-speech tablet for about a week. While he’s holding out the word, I look around the crowd, they’re full of hype and energy. Of the likes I couldn’t imagine. If humanity is good at one thing, they’re good at filling a room with life--especially when this venue has been close to death. 

“Ooooohh…..” 

Lucien closes out while the rest of the band goes into a slow decrescendo. I figure that around this time, Lucien would let me down but he had other plans.

He tapped my shoulder and I looked up at him. He brought his hand over my ear to whisper.

“Darling Darkling,” Lucien murmured. “I’m parched, may I have a drink, please?”

I looked at him a bit puzzled. I didn’t bring a water bottle or anything(I should really start doing that) so I’m not sure what he meant. I nodded.

“Sure, go ahead,” I whispered back.

He smiled, showing off those fangs again.

“Thanks.”

He leaned in, and I learned that those fake fangs were in fact, real. He bit down on the side of my neck and the whole crowd went insane. My eyes were wide, the heat coming to my face and ears were palpable. I should’ve ran away, but I stayed. Leaned into the bite, accepted this sin he brought to the table. He drank for a long time before letting me go, seeing me stumble a little bit on my own.

As if I came back to my senses, I quickly ran off-stage and back to my seat. Staring into my eyes with dilated pupils, he wiped off the excess blood and grabbed the mic again.

“Thanks for that, sweetheart.” 

His tone completely changed, he spoke as if he was flirting with me. Which also made the crowd explode. I was in for a long night…

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

You made it to the end, hooray! Part 2 will come out sometime, on someday. Have a nice rest of your day/evening!

[murdercrumb]

hi crumb would you write some Goro praise kink? Maybe some hair pulling?

xoxo Heather

idol goro + hairdresser akira <3

goro akechi is beautiful.

he could be a model if the idol business goes down the drain. akira can’t imagine a world where he isn’t loved by all. he can’t imagine a world where akechi doesn’t excel at everything—acting, singing, dancing, you name it. he can’t imagine that smile hidden away in the shadows.

he wears that mask so well.

it’s not like akira is super close with akechi—he’s just a hairdresser after all. but he likes to believe he knows akechi better than those fans who faint in the front row of his interviews. akechi’s snarky—he’s aloof, he’s a realist, he has a dry sense of humor. sure, it could be yet another mask. but it’s one akira likes infinitely more.

akechi has to be ready to shoot a scene in an hour and a half. it’s some new drama show he’s the star of—the first season; he has to make a good impression. a mask on top of a mask.

akira finds himself alone with the star after the makeup department has been cleared out of the dressing room. it’s impractical, but akechi always likes to have his hair done last.

“you saw it, didn’t you?” the brunette asks akira’s reflection. the bags beneath his eyes have vanished beneath the makeup. he still looks exhausted. “don’t pretend you haven’t. i’m sick of everyone dancing around it—like– like i’m something fragile.”

akira did see it. it being some tabloid gossip about the upcoming drama series, some article about goro akechi taking on a serious, grown-up role. they don’t think he can handle it. they claim he’s a child star. they told him to stick to twirling in a skirt on stage.

akira shakes his head. “it’s all garbage.”

he runs a brush through akechi’s hair, smoothing out the nonexistent tangles. akechi doesn’t seem convinced.

“it’s a common opinion. you saw the comments. they were all in agreement.”

“only shitheads read that stuff.”

“the world is full of shitheads!” he cries. “am i expected to dumb myself down for them? am i not allowed to mature beyond what their monkey brains can handle?!”

akira can’t resist a small smile. only goro akechi would use the term monkey brains while pissed off.

“think of it like free promotion,” he soothes, wetting a comb before tending to goro’s locks. “what better way to generate buzz than to prove those idiots wrong?”

akechi’s lips twist. “you think i can?”

“i know you can. i’ve seen you on set, akechi. i’ve seen you become your character—it’s amazing. it’s magical.”

akechi stares at akira’s reflection. his frown has morphed into a thin line.

“goro.”

“hm?”

“call me goro.”

like a field of blossoms in the springtime, akira’s heart blooms.

“you’re amazing, goro.”

goro flushes a deep red, twice as bright as the blush applied by the makeup department, infinite times as beautiful.

“...i’m glad i still have one fan remaining.”

“always.”

akira turns goro in his chair so his back is facing the sink. he has to wash goro’s hair before styling it, but they have all the time in the world.

he wets his locks with warm water, turning the golden shade to a deep brunette. “what’s not to be a fan of?” he massages a handful of shampoo into goro's scalp. “you’re smart.” he drags his fingers down to the base of his neck. “you’re talented.” he tilts goro’s head back, forcing him to meet akira’s gaze directly above him. “you’re beautiful.”

goro’s lip quivers with a heavy breath.

“you’re just saying that.”

“the truth?” akira turns on the sink to rinse out the shampoo. the sound of running water doesn’t allow goro the chance to argue. 

akira flips off the faucet.

“you’re so good at what you do. on and off the stage. you’re so good, goro.”

goro shivers when akira’s hands return to his hair, coating his locks with smooth conditioner.

“say it again.”

his voice is barely above a whisper.

“you’re amazing.” a hitched breath. “you’re beautiful, with and without makeup. you’re like an angel.” a nod. “your voice is beautiful. and your laugh—not your stage laugh, your real laugh… i’d do anything to hear that sound.”

a snort. “that ugly thing?”

“you’re perfect, just the way you are.” the sincerity in his voice is shocking, even to akira. “so good, goro.” he strengthens his grip in goro’s hair and pulls him back, akira’s lips brushing the shell of his ear. “you’re so good for me.”

a whimper.

he turns on the faucet as he rinses out the conditioner.

and if akira is a little rougher than usual while styling goro's hair, he's never told to stop.

[auroraescritora]

SITTER'S LOVE - Nico!Babysitter, Percy!Teacher-father - Chapter II

Hi, how are you? Here's another chapter. I'll try to post every Monday, and more than one chapter if I can, as I'm translating as I post, I can't go any faster than that. But, I can guarantee a lot of fun. In this chapter Percy and Nico will meet. And Nico has been diagnosed with anxiety and that's going to make all the difference throughout the story.

I hope you have a good read!

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I

Nico got off the bus and stopped in front of a group of luxurious houses, already finding the place strange. He held his cell phone tightly and checked the address they had sent him. Yes, it was there, Pine Street… eh … which seemed to be right, there were trees so tall that they seemed to disappear among the clouds. He shrugged and walked along the wide sidewalk, feeling as if he had entered an unknown world when he saw that the bricks on the ground were painted a yellow color with a phosphorescent golden tone, stretching endlessly for long kilometers that seemed to come out of a fairy tale as the rows of houses disappeared into the horizon and beyond.

He couldn't help but be amazed by that place; there were large gates that delimited the properties, separated by even higher walls. Giant trees and smaller flowerbeds with flowers in different shapes and colors that blocked the view of the other houses or what was inside those gates.

He kept walking and then stopped in front of the complex with the number 17, where another large black iron gate rose higher than he could see. Nico couldn't express how strange it was to be in a place like that, the environment was so quiet and the absence of anyone there made his skin crawl. And just to be sure, he checked once more if that was the correct address. Nico scratched his hair, tempted to open the email with the contractor's information once more, because it could only be a mistake; what he was witnessing could not be called a house. Now that he was getting closer to the gates, he could see that it was a group of small, beautiful and well-structured mansions. White fences, large gardens, parks, swimming pools, gyms and everything else imaginable, in addition to security guards protecting the perimeter around the property and in the areas common to all residents.

It felt like he had actually entered a parallel reality, which was strange. Nico felt like he wasn’t someone these people would hire to work there, someone with no college degree, no qualifications, and no proper professional background. But since Nico was here… he shrugged again. What harm was there in trying?

He walked to the front of the gate and pressed the intercom:

"Excuse me, I'm Nico Di Ângelo. I have a meeting with Annabeth Chase at house 4.”

"Yes, good morning. Miss Chase left a message." The helpful and polite doorman told him. "She apologizes for not being able to receive you personally. We will direct you to the location.”

Nico was left to thank him and wait for the gates to open.

He swore he was trying to keep an open mind, but then the weirdest thing happened. As a part of the gate slid aside, two security guards three times his size looked him up and down and stopped in front of him.

"Documents. They're the condominium rules." Nico found it even stranger, but it was okay. Since he had embarked on this madness, he would see it through to the end.

He unzipped his backpack and handed them his driver's license. The taller, red-haired man took the document from his hands and pulled out a clipboard from inside the guardhouse post, stepped closer to him, looked at the information on his ID and then seemed to compare it with the information on the file.

The same bodyguard wrote something on the paper and handed the document and clipboard to him, saying: "Sign here." That was all the redhead said to him before Nico quickly signed and the security guard checked the signature. When the information seemed to match, the other security guard who was standing next to him waved and guided Nico to a car that was waiting for him in front of another smaller gate.

Nico let himself be led to the next gate and felt like laughing; first, was this some kind of luxurious prison? And second, why was there a mini golf cart there? The most interesting thing was that the car even came with a private driver.

Still finding it funny, he got into the car, put on his seatbelt and came across a boy his age, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five, brown hair, black eyes and a beautiful, wide smile.

"First time here?”

He nodded, trying not to show how much it all bothered and amused him at the same time.

"Don't worry, everyone gets a little scared the first time. What's your name?”

"Nico.”

"It's a pleasure, Nico. You can call me Gabe. I'll give you a ride for as long as you're here.”

"Why? Do you think I won't stay long?”

“No one stays. It's nothing personal. You know how these people are.”

"What are they like?”

"I think you'll find out, won't you?”

So, before he knew it, Gabe stopped the car in front of house number 4.

Grinning with dimples and white teeth, Gabe asked, “Can I?” And before Nico could answer, Gabe helped him unbuckle his seatbelt, walked around the car, and held out his hand to him.

"Don't forget, don't take it personally." He winked at Nico, all charming and walked around the car, getting into the driver's seat.

“Okay. Nothing personal. Sure.” Nico thought to himself, watching Gabe quickly walk away through the streets of the condominium, pulling away from there in his little car.

He allowed himself to take a deep breath and stared at the two-story house that was surrounded by a garden so extensive that it was impossible to see anything but nature, a few cars, and more trees that grew tall with voluminous foliage. Nico had no choice but to try to ignore the exuberance of the place, telling himself, it was nothing special; this would be just another job where he would stay for a few months, make some money, and move on to the next job until he had enough money to pay for his studies. Just another one among many others.

He took a few more steps towards the door and climbed the few steps, which were made of white and gray marble, following the rest of the house's design; everything was very pale and in pastel tones, which was clear even from the outside of the house. Then he rang the doorbell before his nerves got the best of him, leaving Nico to take another deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

He straightened his wrinkled clothes and held onto the strap of his backpack, running his hand through his hair, trying to fix it in the reflection of his cell phone screen, which proved to be useless. There was no miracle in this world that would make him feel appropriate or well-dressed, so he forced himself to wait as patiently as someone like him could.

It was no big deal, he told himself, once more. He always got nervous on the first day, and it didn't even have to do with the insufferable or abusive bosses Nico had had the pleasure of dealing with, no, it was all ingrained in his skin no matter where he went. It was part of his psychological condition. Although it didn't last long.

Impatient and overcome by anxiety, he rang the doorbell again, pressing the button harder than he intended at the exact moment the door opened abruptly, revealing a tall man, almost two meters tall, with messy black hair and intense green eyes that stared at him with disinterest. The man seemed to have jumped out of bed, wearing only gray sweatpants and showing... showing a trail of hair that led to a certain large volume in that place.

"Yes?" The man said hoarsely, his eyes barely open and so serious that Nico thought about turning around and escaping that strange situation.

Feeling even worse, as if someone was twisting his insides, Nico kept his eyes above the half-naked man's shoulders and checked his phone, double-checking the email the agency had sent.

House 4. Employer - Annabeth Chase.

"May I speak to Mrs. Annabeth Chase?

"Come back next month. Maybe next year, yeah? I never thought she liked the younger ones…" The man muttered quietly as if Nico shouldn't have heard, especially the last part, distracted, not even seeming to care about his presence.

“Sir…?”

"Jackson, Percy Jackson." He said reluctantly, yawning.

"Mr. Jackson." Nico said. He made a point of ignoring what the man was insinuating. "I was told about the childcare vacancy. The agency sent me here.”

"Ah.”

Percy Jackson didn't act as Nico expected. No, the man just raised his eyebrows and looked at him for the first time, seeming to analyze him, dissecting him with his analytical and intense green eyes, as if trying to decide if Nico was worth his time. Which made Nico feel even weirder, wanting to hide and punch that man in the face at the same time.

“Do you have experience with children?” Percy Jackson told him, even though that wasn’t what the man had intended to say. That much was clear to Nico.

"I've been taking care of my brothers since I was a child. Will that do?" When Nico saw that it seemed too disrespectful, he added: "The ad didn't require any specifications.”

"Let me see.”

It didn't seem like it was a request.

"Sure." He shrugged, pretending not to care about the whole interrogation.

Nico handed the phone to Mr. Jackson and felt victorious when the man found nothing wrong. Mr. Jackson just seemed to read it, turned his head to the side and sighed deeply, saying, “Typical of her.”

"If you want, I can leave." After all, no amount of money was enough to get through that kind of humiliation. Or what was yet to come. Nico was never sure what might happen.

"It's not your fault. Come in.”

Mr. Jackson made room for Nico to enter and then the door closed, starting something he could never have predicted.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome, they help me to improve the story.

[sureinsunlight]

I’m gonna mead you to do the entire OC meme (or just the ones you wanna) for

Saudade, Cassie, and All My Dust Fed Men

*cracks knuckles*

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Saudade can't stand being alone. If no one's around to talk to him, his hands will grab him up in a big cocoon and hold her so so so so tight. Unfortunately, she was alone for a very long time post-exile, so. Yeah that didn't go well.

Cassie actually likes the quiet! Technically she's not by herself, much, since her god is often close on her heels, but it's also not really a person and more of a very powerful and worship-eating houseplant so she'd call it 'alone'. It's always a good time to reflect on things, she's a thoughtful person.

Dusty, too, likes solitude, although he'd much prefer to be around Ren, the object of his obsession. When alone, though, he often withdraws from whatever system he's puppetting and sleeps in his casket. Often, and here's a little treat-- he hums. Likes making up silly songs.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Saudade's exile and punishment by Queen Maebe was, I'd say, a betrayal. He thought hers was a court of wonder and play, and what is generosity but wondrous? How could he be called a thief and king-pretender, just for sharing what there was so much of?

Cassie's never felt personal betrayal, no, but she feels a sort of collective, existential treachery on behalf of all mortalkind at the hands of the gods. Despite professing that divinity has no true sapience, she cannot quite let go of some personal venom.

Dusty was once betrayed. Or... will be? Either way, it was/will be all made right and of no consequence. He wasn't/won't have been in his right mind, after all.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Saudade, for one of his crimes, was cast out of her body and into the nothing of Shadowfell for a long, long time outside of time. His friends and subjects brought him back, but the memory aches constant.

Cassie's come from a relative position of power in her society, and so has never felt punishment of a punitive sort beyond a sort of brief diplomatic detainment. Wasn't a problem at all.

Dusty, as an NHP, might very well be said to be an always-prisoner. This is heavily up for debate, of course.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Somehow, with everything that's happened to Saudade, I can't really say she's ever hit her absolute lowest. It'd be interesting to see what that looks like, huh?

Cassie would need something to happen that truly, deeply, shook her beliefs to their core. This isn't something I can easily imagine, given how absolutely zealous she is, but I imagine it could happen were she to find herself emulating godhood a little too closely.

Dusty's broken down before, and it was a long, slow process. Ren was there for a front-row seat the whole time. I think Dusty was born breaking.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Saudade just wants companionship. She wants to not feel alone.

Cassie wants to see the heavens overturned and the hells made empty. She wishes to spear down the demiurge and make all the world open to mortalkind, that they may not be preyed on by the divine.

Dusty wants to see an apotheosis, to be a part of shifting the veil between life and death. At first, this was going to be something grand, and he was ready to tear it all down to get it-- but now, I think, he's okay with simply seeing it in Ren.

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

Saudade failed when he believed the words of his queen, and forsaked his good deed for even a moment. He still fails to understand that she was wrong.

Cassie is a mockery of her own faith, sometimes, and a butcher at best. She says she's proud of it, but sometimes she wishes true radical freedom made her hands drip a little less.

Dusty does not dwell on mistakes. All that will be will be.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

The thought of being alone again, really alone, is a constant, terrifying specter in Saudade's mind.

Cassie is afraid of being undone and failing in her task-- or becoming as a god herself. To her such a thing would be ego-death and mortification of a deep sort.

Dusty's greatest fear, I think, is seeing the world unchanged. Carrying on with its endless minutae of nothing.

(going to skip "future" as it's more or less the same as "fear" in this case)

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

Saudade, I think, often wonders about the Fomorian he met out there in the woods of his court. Wonders if they made it away alright, or if her kindness doomed them.

Cassie, wouldn't you know, sometimes has nightmares about sainting the man that now houses her god. She did a good job of it, but she's aware of the cost. It's part of how she stays moral, in her eyes.

Dusty's always going to wonder, I think, about what could have been if he hadn't been/won't be betrayed and stopped-- but it's more of a game of curiosity, something to bat about when his mind starts to fracture and drift. Serves as a good benchmark for cycling, too.

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

Aside from the crime she thinks she committed, I think Saudade probably hurt someone in her early days in the prime material. She was hungry and needed supplies, and hadn't quite figured out how to control her friends. She keeps the guilt close to his heart.

Cassie, as said in the last question, forces herself to reckon with the gruesome business that is saint-making. It's glorious, and those who give themselves for it ought to be lionized, but still. Can't forget the cost.

Dusty has no understanding, I think, of guilt. He made Ren sad once. Maybe that's got something like regret attached.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Saudade would never admit it, but if he could go back to Nap-o-Noon, and if he could sic his many, many friends upon the fair-sunn'd queen...

Cassie hates the gods for existing, for condemning creation to suffer their whims. Her life is dedicated to erasing them, in what she sees as radical liberation of the metaphysical.

Dusty hates boredom. That's really all there is to it. A lot of things are boring, so he does as he can.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

Saudade has never felt heartbreak, mostly because she's a bit of a complete beginner at those sorts of things anyways! Mortals are so strange with their courtships...

Cassie having had some like. teen-angst style breakups is incredibly funny to me so I'm saying that's canon.

Dusty doesn't do much of 'love' either, tbh! He's got an obsession, and that one smashes right past love and goes to somewhere deeply devoted and borderline unhealthy, but there needs to be a new word coined for whatever that feeling is.

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

Saudade hides so he can be left alone.

Cassie hides until the time is right.

Dusty hides because he does not want his one treasure taken. His one treasure is enough.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

Saudade has the court of Nap-o-Noon on her heels, who seeks to hunt him like foxen quarry for their queen.

Cassie is typically the hunter, not the hunted, but sometimes she's chased away and forced to lay low by faithful who heard her divine-antagonistic preaching.

Dusty is an unregistered NHP and therefore an ontological fugitive of Union! Dw no one will ever find him now.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Saudade couldn't hide his feelings if she had the world's largest haystack I'm so so sorry.

Cassie, though, she wears a pretty little mask (sometimes literally) as the wandering saint-maker, all grandiose and know-me-and-rejoice. She mostly believes it, too!

Dusty does not hide besides physically. Tuckin' away in some good good flesh. It's wonderful. cosy adn squishy.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Saudade fears being caught and losing what he has now-- that and the ptsd nightmares do it pretty intensely.

Cassie has back problems, but that's about it. I'm being so real about this one.

Dusty never sleeps, but often is preoccupied with musings of a strange nature, especially in the little hours. He tends to treat Ren like a stuffie about it.

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

Saudade: Getting caught.

Cassie: Doubting herself.

Dusty: Making his cerberus fear him.

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

Saudade's more of a quietly fucked up little creechur, but he very much thtinks himself a monster. The hands reaching out from behind unseen spaces in things around him definitely add to the effect, though.

Cassie would say her god is the most monstrous thing about or around her, she on the other hand is perfect. Imagine sparkles showering everywhere when I say that.

Dusty is quite monstrous, a mass of eyes and flesh and half-formed things. Real big gore hours. He's a big fan of it though, personally.

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Saudade has nightmares a lot when he sleeps. Tends to talk about them to his wonderful new consort, Edel, when they're there, and his friends if they aren't.

Cassie sometimes has the sort of nightmares that aren't scary on their own merit, but nonetheless carry that awful aura of dread with them that she has trouble shaking for an hour or two after waking up.

Dusty's musings are the sort of things that would be stuff of nightmares to most, but he finds a beauty to them. Sometimes he'll murmur them in Ren's ear, to share the curiosity.

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

Saudade has a lower pain tolerance than it appears, but that's mostly because he's so sensory-seeking that even pain, to her, is worth tanking through.

Cassie's not used to taking damage herself so she's a bit of a wimp. Frankly, can't at all take is like she can dish it.

Dusty's a hardy thing, and his mind-- being only shackled into a human-esque shape-- interpellates pain as more of a... hm. It's like a lesson; a fable unfolding before him.

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

Saudade is sure that, deep inside, he's got some of that Shadowfell ugly stuck inside her, and she'll never be ready with it.

Cassie is glad no god heeds her prayers, for she whispers her doubts more nights than she wishes she did, rare as they might run.

Dusty is an open book, but there are secrets of the nature of his existence even he doesn't quite know yet. He's keen to search for their unveiling.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Saudade: Depends on how much of that skin is touching someone. Directly proportional, in fact.

Cassie: Quite, thank you.

Dusty: Feels most comfortable in Ren's skin, if he's being honest (and he is).

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Saudade's confinement in nothingness was fairly torturous, I'd say-- and besides, there were a fey hunter or two that wanted his one large, gemlike eye. Didn't end well for them, but wasn't fun for Saudade either.

Cassie's job is technically torture from a certain, largely correct, perspective. Saint-making is not a painless thing for any party involved.

Dusty cares for things more final than torture, personally, but his methods in the past have sometimes been a little too slow to be anything else. The experience of cascade is more rapturous than torturous to him.

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Saudade handles wounds like a shot dog-- retreating away to nurse his wounds. He also tends to keep fussing with them because the ache distracts him from the Horrors a bit. The mind holds much more tendency to harm than the body, for her.

Cassie just complains, very loudly, when struck. Her worst wounds are by far those of the flesh.

Dusty takes wound in the same stride as one takes frustration-- it only spurs him onward. Unraveling is little more than a dance to him.

[it-is-i-that-witch]

Velseb Family Values

Chapter 2: Something New, Something Used

TEN MONTHS LATER

“What about this one?”

Bob glanced over his shoulder, squinting at Teresa’s phone. “Hmm… not too sure. It doesn’t have very good reviews.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “What other people think isn’t everything. I’m asking if you like it.”

“Sweet pea, if it makes you happy, then I’m fine with whatever you pick. I’ve never imagined myself getting married, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Ideally I’d handle everything myself, but that isn’t fair to you. You took tomorrow off for your fitting, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. And I have mine next week. Don’t forget.”

She turned and walked upstairs. Bob put the spatula down and sighed to himself. He hadn’t ever expected to be planning a wedding, much less his own, and he had certainly not thought about how exhausting it would be. This week it had been all about wedding venues, last week was about outfits, and this upcoming week would be invitations. He felt so tempted to tell Teresa to just take care of it, like she’d wanted, but he didn’t want to be rude to his wife-to-be.

Teresa, his ray of sunshine. She made all this stress worth it. He would’ve gladly flown to Mars and back for Teresa. He’d climb Mount Everest for her, even. Getting through wedding planning was a trifle compared to those things.

But if that were true, why was it so hard?

He resumed cooking, trying to forget the stress of wedding planning for the moment. He could tell Teresa was stressed too, but she was certainly holding herself together much better than he. That was one of the many things he admired about Teresa.

Something else came to mind. He’d never envisioned himself getting married, nor had he ever thought about a future beyond fast food. He was still reeling from the fact that a bombshell like Teresa would even be interested in a guy like him. He was in his thirties, working a dead end job and he had never thought of himself as particularly attractive. But now that it was in front of his face, he couldn’t ignore it - what was he planning to do now? Surely things would change after the wedding, and that was something he was nowhere near prepared for.

Teresa returned to the table, taking her seat gracefully and waiting for him to serve dinner. That was another thing Bob didn’t understand - shouldn’t such a sophisticated woman be with someone more of her status? Whatever that would be, he certainly wasn’t it.

And yet… here he was, and here was Teresa.

He kept his head down as he ate, but of course nothing escaped Teresa’s watchful eyes. “Something wrong?”

For some reason, something told Bob that telling Teresa about his earlier reflection was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure why, but he decided to follow that instinct. “It ain’t nothin’. I’m tired.”

Teresa raised an eyebrow, but after a few moments of silence, she seemed to accept that that was the only answer she was getting. They finished the meal in silence.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The previous seven months of stress were over, and had given life to the most beautiful ceremony Bob had ever witnessed. There he stood, before a small crowd consisting mostly of Teresa’s friends, with his coworkers all in the front row. White rose petals fluttered in the breeze, and the sunshine filtered through the transparent curtains at the altar cast a hazy glow over the space, giving the wedding a very fairytale-esque air.

The doors at the edge of the garden opened, and out came Teresa, accompanied by her father. She wore a fanciful gown with a sweetheart neckline and gauzy sleeves, and her veil was held in place by a glittering tiara. And just when Bob thought she couldn’t ever look any more stunning.

Of course, the bride commanded everyone’s attention - including the groom - simply by existing. Despite the fact that the shoes she’d chosen were six-inch heels, she didn’t even stumble. She walked calmly, with graceful, even strides. As Bob stood there, awaiting his wife-to-be, he questioned what he’d been so frustrated about. All of that had allowed this perfect day to happen, and he couldn’t be happier.

Teresa finally stepped up to the altar, smiling at Bob through her veil. The priest gave a speech about love and sacrifice, most of which Bob missed because his only focus was on his bride. It appeared Teresa did the same.

The priest finished his speech and continued, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union between Teresa and Bob. Bob, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Bob’s smile was bright enough to light up a room. “I do.”

“And, Teresa, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Even though her face wasn’t entirely visible, anyone could hear the authenticity in her voice.

“Very well. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Bob reached out, carefully removing the veil from Teresa’s face. Her eyes were as bright as stars. They slowly leaned together, eyes locked, shutting out everything else but each other’s smiling faces… and kissed.

The audience applauded and cheered as the newlyweds waved, the entire garden filled with excitement over the event and joy for the happy couple.

If only they’d truly been as happy as they appeared...

[curiositydooropened]

WIP Wednesday - Teaser - Snowed In

Synopsis: When a girl's trip to a secluded cabin is ruined by a snow storm and Robin's friend, Steve, you wonder if you could make the best out of a cozy situation.

A/N: This is fluff and cute. It's got it all. Power outage, only one bed? We love to see such light positivity from me. Let's get real, I'll probably make it super freaking dark somehow. xo

---

The drifts had nearly washed out the highway below, and your back-end squealed and swished up the hill, but the promise of a Hot Toddy and much-awaited girl time spurred you onwards. You employed the tactics your father screamed into you at sixteen: low gear, take the foot off the gas to gain traction, slow and steady, and if you start to skid, steer into it. You’d come too far to turn back now. The hand carved sign denoting the ski hill was miles ago, it’s base packed with graveled snow, and you’d already made a final turn into a row of pristine chalets. 

The small lane looked like double rows of gingerbread houses, Bavarian yet modern, dark wood with icicles growing on sloped roofs. Of all of them, one had a car set out front, a maroon BMW that looked out of place among the evergreens. You knew Robin didn’t drive, but you suspected the friends’ she mentioned had parents with money.

Gloved fingers firm on ten and two, you pumped the brakes to avoid locking up, and slid gracefully into the hillside beyond the driveway. You cursed as your front bumper knocked the snow from a mailbox, but when no damage appeared visible from your angle beneath the windshield, you turned off the engine and shouldered out of your little car. 

The road was deceptively icy, ruts dipping beneath the freshly fallen snow, and you had to hang on tight to your driver’s side door as you exited, the balls of your sneakered feet slipping comically beneath you. Gaining your bearings, you patted the roof of your car in gratitude and shuffled around the back end to pop open the hatchback to gather your bags.

The wind whipped at your cheeks, bitter and sharp, blurring everything in white and ice and cold. Each side of the little walkway was piled with snow to your thighs, apparently shoveled in the last few hours. You clambered your way up, sneakers squeaking on a dry door mat, face pinched and teeth chattering as your gloved knuckles fought to make noise against a wooden front door. 

The answer took too long, required the beat of your toes against the wood for more volume, and you hunkered tighter into the collar of your puffer jacket, vowing to smack Robin once she let you inside. You could smell wood burning through frozen nostrils, and you closed your eyes to imagine the warmth that lay just beyond. Your friend from work, and her friends from home, gathered around a stove in flannel pajamas, pouring alcohol into steaming mugs and offering salutations to a new year without the pressures of a deadline or a fundraiser or, in your case, a new year without Men. 

You’d been looking forward to this girl’s weekend since Robin brought it up months ago, always down for an adventure and a getaway, but especially now after Christmas rejection from the Hometown Hero that had stolen (and crushed) your heart. You couldn’t board the flight from home fast enough.

The door swung open in a burst of heat, and you sighed at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in the rush of cedar and… was that a pot of hot coffee? You salivated with a smile. “Thank God you opened, I thought I was going to die of hypothermia out here.” You blinked your eyes open to be face-to-face with a man. 

His pink lips were cocked in confusion, eyebrows puckered, hair a swoop of golden brown atop his head. He had broad shoulders, and from this proximity, you could make out the smattering of freckles on his face, and the way his forest green cable knit sweater brought out the caramel of his eyes, and for half a second, your decree of No-Men-New-Year had flown south for winter.

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you.” He glanced to the door, and your eyes flit to the snow kicked by the toe of your boot, the same incriminating freeze that layered the door mat beneath you. 

You blinked again, remembered your place, and hunkered frigid cheeks into your collar. “No, I’m sorry. I think I have the wrong house.” You offered a sheepish smile, and a wave, but the little brass 4 under a lantern indicated otherwise. 

“Oh, shit, you must be Robin’s friend from work,” the boy supplied, side-stepping to gesture for you to hurry inside.

A level of frustration settled over you then, like you’d driven all this way for Robin to have betrayed you in this way, without her even knowing about the utter heartbreak that had wracked your holiday. You almost contemplating turning around, sledding your way back down the hill on snow-packed tires, but a particularly strong gust of wind sent you tumbling in after the mystery man. 

“Here, can I take anything?” He offered once the door was safely closed and the warmth settled to your features, too-hot too-fast. 

You fumbled for what to say, but he was quicker, already removing your grocery bags from your hands.

“Kitchen?” He asked, gesturing past the entry way. 

You nodded, grasping for something to say, to explain yourself. 

“Go ahead and kick your shoes off. Coat closet’s there,” he nodded to a little door directly adjacent. And then he was off, the rustle of bags and socked feet against hard wood. 

You harrumphed in distress to no one, and packed your own squeaking to hear for conversation. When none was heard, dread came over you. You were early. You were early, and Robin wasn’t here, and a strange man was in her place. Or, you stopped mid-un-zip, a man had come and murdered Robin and her friends and now waited for you to finish the job. 

“They aren’t here yet,” he appeared back in the doorway, startling you. He leaned against the trim, crossed arms over his broad chest, and patiently waited for you to remove your gear. 

It was murderer or the cold, and you figured you didn’t really have a choice. With a polite smile, you shrugged out of your jacket, your gloves, toed out of ice block shoes and soaked your socks against the hardwood. You placed everything in the closet, and waited for this stranger to push himself from the doorway and lead you elsewhere.

[sauteing-the-horrors]

The cemetery lies before me, rows upon rows of headstones as far as the eye can see. The sunlight filtering through the trees makes for a beautiful dappled pattern along the carved names of the dead. I do not remember how long I have been in here. I should have turned away the second I saw my second gravestone with the same name. I should have turned away when I began noticing that all the graves had the same bit of cracked stone along the right edge. But in I stayed, walking in deeper and deeper, looking for the one headstone that had caught my eye. It was a stone with my mother’s name on it, matching her birthdate. My mother has a fairly unique name, and only two other women share her name in this part of the town. This I know because of an internet search I did out of curiosity; to see if her name was really as unique as she claimed. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I saw her gravestone in this cemetery. When I saw the grave, I knew that it was hers. Something told me that this grave was meant for my mother. What’s more, the carved stone spelled out exactly what I had planned for her when she would pass. A bit morbid, I know, to have your mother’s epitaph planned out, but that’s the way she raised us, always at comfort with our mortality. That comfort, however, did nothing to ease my horror at seeing her grave in front of me while she was alive. The first time I saw it, it felt so real, I tried digging through to make sure she wasn’t actually in there. I do not remember how long I dug, only that when I stopped, my nails were bleeding and my eyes were heavy, as if I hadn’t slept in a week. How was it so dark already?

I turned around to leave, but the infinite rows of headstones looked so eerily similar in the dark, I couldn’t figure out which way to go. It wouldn’t be so bad sleeping in the cemetery itself – the graves made for a nice bed and it doesn’t get too chilly here around nights. So off to sleep I went, above my mother’s grave. At least, it felt like going to sleep. When I awoke, the rows of headstones around me seemed to extend far beyond where they did yesterday. I made my way through the uncannily similar rows, trying to remember which way I came in through. That’s when I saw it again. The grave. It couldn’t have been the same one, could it? I had been going straight for a while now, and two turns don’t make a circle. Or maybe it does? The heat of the day was beginning to get to me. I stumbled around, trying to find the entrance to the cemetery. I didn’t remember it being this big. Another grave with my mother’s name. And another. I saw one for my childhood best friend. Then another. Eight in total. Five for my father. Seven for my mother. Three for our family dog. Twelve for my high school girlfriend. This cemetery is filled with everyone and everything I have ever loved. I am pretty sure that if I look hard enough, I will find my own grave. Then another. And another. I don’t think I will go looking today, however. Mom seems lovely today, and there’s more of her surrounding me in this graveyard than she ever did when I was growing up. I can have her for lunch, the way I always dreamed when I got a place of my own. There’s certainly plenty of her to go around. I found this out when I saw the old shovel lying against one of the trees. I still had some hope back then, that these graves were empty and not real. But then I dug up my best friend. And then my dad. And then my best friend again. It is lovely to be surrounded by the people you love. And I suppose love does nourish you where food doesn’t. People break into my home sometimes. But they join the family soon enough. There rises my grave now. I suppose it’s time to join the rest of my family.

[auxxrat]

Half return/The lawn is dead

Oneshot

Jango/Shaak

Tags - Angst, Jango's past (comic based), both POV's Other Tags - they visit his old home, Jango is seeing the horrors, Shaak thinks everything is pretty though, based on the song Half Return (obviously)

Description - Jango's half-return, and his history with more emotions than hate.

Notes - This is just a little one-shot based on the extensive lore I have for them because they are real to ME. I might/probably will make it into a little series on ao3, mostly because I don't have the energy to write a full book of it just yet-- so follow me on ao3 @/auxxrat! :D

Enjoy!

It’d been a long while since the dirt of this road had been disturbed. It was a long abandoned road, filled with weeds and holes from storms long past. The dirt had never been kicked up, at least not in a long, long time. The winding road cut through anchors of dead field, looking closer, Shaak noticed that whatever had been planted was burnt to the root. The corpses of the dead plants remained, petrified in coal, while the rocks littering the side of the road showed obvious signs of fire. 

Of a fire that burned for hours, hot and heavy, it seemed. 

There was no time for investigation, not when Jango was stomping down the path ahead. He said nothing. Not when they landed and not even when the citizens of this planet explained to him that this farm, and its family, had been dead. Shaak didn't want to be the one to tell them they were staring at a living ghost. 

The path went down a hill, bending and twisting down a small hill that led to even more rolling fields, and behind that– a forest. Or what looked to be the remains of one. Jango followed the path like he’d done it yesterday like nothing had ever changed. Shaak tripped and scuffed her boots on the rocks and roots that stuck up from the dirt, too busy sightseeing. 

There was a large pond in the distance and a river that stretched and curled into the dead forest and beyond their point of vision. Shaak never knew Concord Dawn before the war, before half its surface was burned and holes were blown in it so large you could see it from orbit. She knew this to be Jango’s home, or at least the land his family owned, and even in all its crisp ugliness– she could almost see a flashback of its beauty. Shaak could imagine Jango as a small boy, growing up in such a place, it fit him more than any castle or armor ever had. She could see him bouncing through the fields, curly hair full of leaves, tiny knees scratched, and pink from playing outside. She knew Jango could see it too. He was following ghosts all the way home. 

A huge flat piece of land was at the bottom of the field, after what looked to be rows of gardens (guessing from the remains of burnt fences, now just looking like fire logs). Different burn structures stood around them, the one in the center was large, but only the beams remained. A couple of buildings stood behind it and beside it, farmhouses and sheds, Shaak assumed. Jango stood in the middle of this huge, flat circle of dirt, naked of only his armor– dressed like he never left. 

And Shaak could see it in his eyes that he never truly did. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

There was no more home. There were no more fields, or forests, or ponds to swim in. There were no sunflower fields in front of the house that Mom cared for so dearly, there was no more waiting for Dad to come walking down the path. There was no more Arla. 

Jango knew as much, but he didn't expect to feel so dead inside. To see the place he grew up in, and lost everything in, forgotten about. Like it meant nothing. Everything that happened here was simply forgotten about. 

And it wasn't…. Fair. 

There was no justice, not on this day, and there was no justice when it happened a second time. For the first time, tears built in his eyes. There was nothing to even look at, nothing but ash, and the memory of where his father’s bleeding body lay as he bled out. The ghost of himself, only a child, haunted him. Not in an innocent way, but in a sinister way. Like a cryptic monster curling its fingers around the door to come get him. He could see him, the small boy, somehow more mouthy and bold than he’d ever be at his age. But it wasn’t a pleasant sight. It stared back at him from behind one of the burnt beams, beckoning him to bury himself in the same place his parent’s bodies withered away in. 

“Jango’ Shaak called so softly, creating the only beacon Jango could use to pull himself out of this darkness. And when he turned, Shaak no longer saw the face of a hardened Mandalorian, but the face of a small boy who had all the joy from his life snuffed out. 

“I’m tired, Ti” His bottom lip wobbled, chin quivering as those baby brown eyes got even sadder. Like an old kicked dog, a tragedy for such a youthful face. 

He was standing in his old yard, dressed like a kid in a grown man’s body. Everything was gone, dead. 

But as they walked away from the ruins of his past, Jango couldn't help but take one last look over his shoulder. The burnt fields, the broken structures, the memories that haunted him – he couldn't just leave it all behind without a second thought. It was a part of him, a part that had been scarred and shattered but still held significance.

Shaak understood this too. She knew that healing took time, and sometimes revisiting painful places was necessary for closure. As they reached the top of the hill and looked back at what once was their home, she squeezed Jango's hand gently.

"It's okay to feel sad," she said softly, “You are allowed to feel” Jango nodded, his gaze still fixed on the distant remnants of his past life. He knew he had to let go eventually. To forget this place and its significance in his life– in the Republic’s history. 

"I'm tired too," Shaak admitted quietly. "But we'll keep moving forward together."

Shaak tested the waters, slipping her slender fingers around his rather large ones– built from slave labor. He held her hand rather tight, and tighter each day they got closer to the end of this journey. Shaak didn’t need a verbal response, just started walking (more like dragging) him up the hill. Something in Jango’s entire body screamed not to go, the nostalgia in him cried out for home– to not pass these fields of familiarity and hide here. Forever. Turn back into a farmer, forget everything except for his name. He could keep that, no one cared for the Fett’s anymore, and their history meant nothing anymore. Not even to Mandalore. He wouldn't be able to keep who he used to be, who his family used to be, but he could keep her. She could be happy here, just as his mother was. She could be free, just a girl, just his girl. And then he could finally— 

Shaak kept walking and Jango’s feet followed, but his brain stopped for a moment, and his heart stopped. 

When they got to the top of the hill Jango was able to look down once more at the life he had to forget about, there he saw a figure, maybe two. But he could only concentrate on the one. A figure no taller than he is now, her blond hair fell just above her shoulders, a wood-cutting ax slung over her shoulder. At the same time he had looked, the girl looked back up at him, like she was in her universe catching a glimpse of his ghostly figure. They shared this mutual look of confusion before the blond girl broke out in a large smile, waving, and at that moment Jango swore he heard a whisper in the wind: 

“Come on home Jango! Street lights are going out!”