#if it were dust doing it he'd do it in silence or maybe rambling a lot of stuff really quietly to himself

[triglycercule]

horror's about to get his shit rocked i guess but its ok he got to say a cool line. anyways i had this silly little idea :3 horror deserves to be the one inflicting pain onto killer sometimes anyways it can't ALWAYS be killer being sadistic 😒😒😒

[auroralwriting]

illicit affairs

chapter three

biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader (turf war au)

tony's mad, bucky's curious, you're questioning where you belong

warnings: violence, language, small age gap (6~ years), angst, arguing, drinking, overall crime and gang stuff, sort of enemies to lovers

series masterlist

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tony spat as he angrily paced around the room. "Some moron paid off Quill and his gang to not fuck up The Avengers!"

"I knew we should've gone Hydra," Rhodey clicked his tongue as he looked up from scrolling on his phone.

Tony shook his head, "When I find the person who did this, I'll fuck them up myself."

Your brother's words made you increasingly nervous. It was you who paid off Quill. At least he didn't snitch that it was you. It still didn't help your nerves to see how upset Tony was.

"It was a bad idea anyways," Clint interrupted. He quickly retracted his words as Tony grabbed his collar, "Only because we should've done it ourselves!"

Bruce sighed, "We can't do anything too rash, otherwise The Asgardians won't help us."

"He's right," Vision confirmed, "They like peace until they're the ones to disrupt it. The minute we cross any lines, they're out of the picure. Bye-bye, Brooklyn."

"Kiddo, what're you thinking?" Tony called to you. You just noticed how you were picking at your skin.

With a shrug, you answered. "I'm just not a fan of all of this."

"Well they're all lying, pompous, pieces of shit." Tony scoffed. "They deserve all of this."

"But why?" You asked. The silence in the room was so much, you could've heard the dust flying around.

Tony pointed to the door, "Get out. Go home."

"But-"

"No! Go the fuck home," Tony yelled as you grabbed your bag and left the small HQ to head back to your apartment, wondering what you's said to make him that angry.

"What's on your mind, Buck?" Steve asked his friend as the two of them sat in the bar. It was always pretty empty during the day. It was the two of them, a couple in the cafe, and Coulson cleaning up.

Bucky shrugged, "Nothin',"

"I know that look, it's not nothing. Come on, I won't judge you." Steve pushed. "Is it about the Stark girl?"

"I just.. don't know how to place her," Bucky admitted. "Stark's such an ass, but she's just-"

"Sweet?" Steve offered.

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, real fuckin' sweet. I mean, she could've got her ass kicked for us last night. I just don't get why she's bein' so nice when Tony's over there brainwashing her."

"I highly doubt he's doing that," Steve mused. "She wasn't around during the fallout. There's a good chance she doesn't even know what all of this is about, or you." Bucky felt his heart drop just a little when Steve added that last part. Truly, he'd never meant for Howard and Maria to get killed. He didn't know it was them transporting millions of dollars in art, otherwise he would've kept his mouth shut. "She really does seem to have a good brain in that head of hers."

"What are you thinking?" Bucky asked, watching as Steve's face twisted into that look he got when he got some brilliant idea.

Steve shrugged, "Maybe we invite her for drinks as a thank you."

"You think Stark-"

"I don't give a damn what he thinks," Steve cut Bucky off abruptly. "She's not his property. Let's give her a choice."

Bucky gave a soft sigh knowing Steve wasn't going to back off his idea. "Ask the others, let's see what they think."

"Already on it, Buck."

How could Tony just kick you out like that?

What could you have said that was so bad that your own brother would kick you out?

The thoughts spiraled in your mind as you sprawled out on your couch, a long, deep sigh pouring from your lips. It was only six and it felt like the longest day in the world. Not to mention your sub-group chat without Tony was blowing up your phone. You had to mute it to shut them up. All they were rambling about was if The Guardians idea was really the right one.

Clint had texted you as well. He asked if you knew who called off Quill. It was clear by his tone he already knew it was you. Clint always knew the sneaky things you did without Tony knowing. He kept things quiet. You liked Clint the most.

A strong knock shook you from your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, unless maybe Clint came over to question you further since you didn't respond to his texts.

You walked up to the door and opened it, shock filling your body when you saw Steve standing there.

"Steve," You breathed, unsure of what else to say.

"Hey, Stark." Steve gave a soft smile. He looked behind you and into your apartment, reminding you to let him in. You opened the door further and scooted out of his way so he could walk in. "Small place," He commented as he looked around.

"Big enough for one person," You countered, a smile playing at your lips. Steve wasn't here for trouble. "I would ask how you know where I live, but.."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, we've all got our connections." He took a seat at the small bar-stool you had at your counter. "Pretty early to be sitting around at home."

You looked at your clothes, glancing down to realize you were in full sweats. "Yeah, Tony and I got in a disagreement today. Kinda spoiled the mood."

"What about?" Steve asked, genuine curiosity on his face.

"It's always something, I don't even know what this one's about." You sighed as you leaned against your wall. "You here to just chat?"

Steve shook his head, "Go get dressed, you're coming out with us tonight."

"Am I?" You asked curiously. "What for?"

"A thank you," Steve explained, "For the other night with Quill and his buddies."

If it was anyone else, you'd think you were getting played. Steve was different, though. He was genuine, he didn't bullshit with his kindness. Maybe your actions had bought you a one-way ticket to Steve's friendship. If that was even what you wanted. Tony would kill you.

"I'll go get dressed." Fuck what Tony thinks.

Steve waited on the stool as you changed in your room. "Where are we going?" You called out to Steve.

"The Grove," Steve replied, his voice loud so you could hear. "It's where we always go." Second time at The Grove, how exciting. "What do you want to drink? I can let Coulson know ahead of time."

You thought for a moment, "I'll do a cosmopolitan!"

You quickly touched up your makeup and walked out of your room, back to Steve who was waiting patiently. "A cosmopolitan, good choice." Steve smiled. "You all ready?"

"Yeah, let me grab a jacket." You said, looking at the muted news on your tv. "Never mind, it's going to be eighty. I won't need that."

"Especially with alcohol in you," Steve joked, opening your door for you. "My bike's outside, you can just ride with me."

You'd actually only ridden on a bike a small amount. Clint had one, but everyone else in the Syndicates had nice cars. It felt thrilling to be on a bike again. It made you feel even better when Steve handed you a helmet to wear. Thrilling but safe!

The Avengers and yourself were definitely a little bit tipsy at this point.

You were sat right in between Wanda and Natasha, who's head was currently on your shoulder to keep her upright as she laughed so hard she was shaking.

"And then he screamed louder than anyone," Natasha paused to wheeze in a breath. "I've ever heard!"

The table erupted in laugher, all besides Sam, who's face was heated while he scoffed. "It isn't that funny."

"No, it really is." Wanda waved him off as she hiccuped in laughter.

The only person not laughing besides Sam was Bucky. He was just oddly smiling to himself, unable to look up from his lap. Clearly the story had made him amused, but he couldn't look up at you.

"I would give all the money in the world to hear that." You admitted as you sipped your drink.

Natasha sat up quickly, "Here, let me try and replicate it for you." She falsettoed her voice and gave the most feminine, soft screech you'd ever heard, causing everyone to laugh once more.

"It did not sound like that," Sam muttered. "I'm too sober for this shit." He waved down Coulson for another one of his drinks.

"Okay, Stark. Give us something, you basically are surrounded by half-men all day. You have to have some funny story." Wanda asked as she set her attention on you.

You felt uneasy with the spotlight now on you. "Uhm," You hesitated. Honestly, you couldn't remember a time that was really funny. You were never invited to those sorts of hangouts. "I don't know."

"What?" Natasha was still smiling, but it was slightly falling as she shook her head. "You have to have something."

"I actually want to circle back to when Sam tried to flirt with that stripper who immediately tried to make him her toddler's daddy." You hoped the reference would side-track the table, which it immediately did as Wanda and Natasha cackled.

The look on Steve's face was telling; he knew exactly what was going on inside your head, and that was scary. You were quick to notice that was the first time Bucky had laid eyes on you, too. You turned your head to Wanda as she told the story, Sam trying his best to shut her up as she spoke.

Steve's face turned to stone, but inside, he was going over a thousand different thoughts. The first step to his new plan was getting Bucky and yourself acquainted.

"Bucky, do you think you could take Stark home for me?"

[nomazee]

The thing about Dazai is that he's cruel when he wants to be.

You know this—you've known this even before he admitted in his long-winded way that he's an ex-mafia member. He has a clever tongue, knows how to use it to his advantage when it comes to swooning women or interrogating suspects. He's multifaceted in that regard.

You've only really seen a glimpse or two of his mean streak, a vague memory of when you were ushered out of the Agency infirmary while Dazai was left alone with Kouyou Ozaki that one time. It's best not to think about it, you tell yourself, but all you can think about right now is that you really, really wish he could be that mean right now.

It slipped out somehow—in your rambling, you didn't even notice when you'd stupidly admitting your more-than-cordial-platonic-coworker feelings for him. But you did, and these are the consequences, just not the ones you were expecting.

Fingers twitching, joints tight and stiff in the cold, you look up at Dazai's blank eyes and the flat line of his lips. Stupid. You feel so utterly stupid, and you're waiting here for his response and yet there's none to be given.

What makes it worse is that his eyes are soft. He's not poking fun at you or rolling his eyes or brushing this off. You really, really wish he would, you wish he'd make a joke out of this and humiliate you, you wish he'd run to Kunikida and laugh about it with him and group you in with all the other people he's swooned before, but he just stands there. There's pity in his eyes, or maybe something like careful consideration as he chooses his next words.

"You..." and a thoughtful hum escapes him before he goes quiet again. You hate this. You hate every second of it and you just want him to laugh at your stupid feelings and leave you in the dust so you could cry alone and not in front of him. A burning feeling pricks the backs of your eyes and you're going to die right in front of him, because that'd be much better than dealing with this awful, awful silence.

"I don't think you really mean that."

And you hate him. You hate Dazai, because of course he'd say something like that. In all his self-loathing, he wouldn't think for a minute that you know what you're talking about—that you mean it. You hate him. This is crueler than anything else he could've done.

"I do, Dazai," and your voice is strained, and choked, and your face is hot with embarrassment because this is stupid and ridiculous and just supposed to be a workplace crush gone out of hand. "Just shut up. I do." And when he opens his mouth again to protest, you shake your head and roll your eyes and try not to make this whole thing more dramatic than it's already gotten.

"Whatever. I mean— whatever. I didn't say any of that. I didn't mean it like that. Can you forget it, please, and don't tell anyone, this is awful, Dazai, you're awful, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry."

In your years of working here, you've never heard Dazai Osamu say sorry, not like this. Not with gentle eyes and a hesitant breath. This is ridiculous. You're going to kill him.

"I wouldn't tell anyone," he keeps talking, he keeps talking and you're going to kill him, "That's cruel. I'm sorry."

Cruel. You want to laugh. He would know a lot about that.

[ominoose]

Abandoned Fic

Steven/Marc/Jake - Onlyfans Xmas Editions

I'm so sorry gang, I've tried my best at this but it aint working, so I am giving this fic up so anyone can enjoy the bare bones or someone can steal and adapt it. I apologise for my transgression of not finishing the Moon Knight Gang Bang, but it is what it is amigos.

There was a comfortable rhythm to how each man came and went from their shared flat. Jake was out most of the time, doing things even God likely didn't want to know about. Marc was out half the time, doing odd jobs, going out for a run. Steven was the homebody of the bunch, comfortably sat at home, cocooned under blankets as he leafed through yet another Egyptology book.

The one time they were guaranteed to be at home together was for a Sunday dinner. It was Stevens idea, one he stubbornly insisted on with wet puppy eyes and a trembling bottom lip. Now it was their routine, a way to catch up on each others daily goings on. What it wasn't supposed to be was the catalyst to Jake and Marc confronting Steven about his Onlyfans.

"So... Marc found this curious little video online Steven. Si, there's this guy with his dick in his hand, all sad and crying, British and what not. Looked just like you."

The matching smirk was lethal.

What followed was an awkward conversation that had the Brit mentally booking flights to Antarctica and trying to remember how Marc had gotten forged documents. Despite his absolute horror, both had been receptive, saying they appreciated the extra income. Steven even found himself rambling about how it all worked, the events, even the Halloween special (minus the homemade pumpkin pie.)

When the pair offered their help to make a Christmas special, he'd been stunned into silence. Being supportive of his more... intimate method of making rent was one thing, but helping him organise things? It should've set off big, flashing red alarms in his silly mind how much they were taking to it, but Steven was too high on having them both engage with his interest.

After all, he did end up leaving the Halloween special to the last minute and that only ended up being a success thanks to a fans odd (yet incredibly lucrative) request. Steven didn't want to leave it to chance this year, he needed something big, something inciting to compete with the market and do something worth stealing attention on Christmas eve.

The usual set was decorated to the nines, tinsel hung from the top, blow up candy canes at the back and softly blinking fairy lights framing the entire set up. Jake had been the one to help set it up, even dusting off his toolkit to put together the new camera stand Steven had bought and fell over whilst attempting to put it up. The Latino's mood was far too chirpy as he whistled atop the ladders, screwing some poles to the wall for Stevens green screen. Another sign.

Marc's idea of help had been more personal, nodding encouragement at Steven's ideas, adding in his own advice here and there.

"Why not add baubles to the tinsel? Maybe you should wear something festive? Just an idea, obviously. I don't know, you said you'd used all your... 'props' before, isn't Christmas partly about getting new things?". How did Steven not see it coming?

Despite the actual nature of the topics, the support was nice, lovely even. It felt like something had finally clicked between them all, oddly enough. Like a gap being bridged. None of the trio had felt closer in Stevens eyes, especially on nights when a pen was nestled behind curls on his ear as he furrowed over notes for future streams, bouncing ideas off the two before slowly falling asleep on a leather jacket or denim shirt.

When the night finally arrived Steven looked at the set with wide eyes, the soft fairy lights twinkling, mistletoe hung at the top of the screen and a little green tree stood merrily at the side. It was perfect.

Both Marc and Jake had agreed to leave the flat for the duration of the stream, but as Steven pulled his candy cane stockings on, the door creaked open.

"Dios mío, I knew they were gonna look good but this is something else..." The gravelly voice had Steven jerking upright, face a warm red.

"W-What are you both doin' still here?! I thought you left-"

[nano-cache]

Madge and Nano were spectacularly, remarkably opposed. In truth, Nano had been something of a reluctant accomplice in the hunt, dragged along by Madge because he was small and sneaky and -- frankly -- a solid distraction should the time come. He'd only agreed because the alternative was guarding, and no one thought Nano was capable of stopping anyone on the other team, except maybe Ren. They'd been assigned to the eastern section of the arena: the Caretaker's House, the Nurses' Cabin, the Bathhouse, and the Boathouse by the docks. It had been nothing short of a shitshow, and the lack of any collaborative chemistry between the pair had only made it worse. In truth, it was easier to tell that they were not close by the lack of any guarding tributes, rather than by their searching skills.

The Caretaker's House had been empty, though the dust had been disturbed, two sets of footprints leaving their mark throughout the house. "Looks like someone beat us here," Madge frowned, and Nano suspiciously eyed the kitchen, where something had been dragged out the back. He wasn't interested in waiting for whoever had been here first to make their way back. The Nurse's Cabin had also been a bust, but Nano at least found something more interesting there. While Madge shoved supplies in her pockets -- bandages and medicine -- Nano had grappled around blindly in the dark for something useful to treat Conny's eye. Instead, grasping deep into the back of a darkened cabinet, he had pulled out a journal, worn and water-logged. It was too dark in the cabin to read, so he sat outside, hidden behind the front steps, pouring over the deranged ramblings of someone clearly descending into madness. Evil caretaker. Monster in the woods. He was so close to the end, just a few pages away, when Madge's shadow blocked the sun. "You're fucking useless," she snatched the journal, throwing it down in the dirt before stomping away.

"And you're a shining beacon for us all," Nano dusted the book off, tucking it up under the step so it wouldn't get dirty or wet. The Bathhouse had been utterly empty, but that was a win. It meant it was probably safe, and -- after being choked in the dirt the day prior -- Nano was in desperate need of a shower. He made a note to tell Conny, so that maybe they could wash up after this was over.

And just like that, they were down to their final destination: the boathouse, which harbored the docks.

The lights flickered ominously, which really just enhanced the whole experience for Nano, who was fairly certain they were in some old-time slasher flick. Unwilling to be caught off guard and gutted like some stock character in a horror film, he poked his head behind every door, beneath cabinet, around every corner. At one point, he found a tube of sunblock -- the kind that left a whitecast on the skin, smelling like summer. He put some on as they walked. If a monstrous creature wasn't going to kill them, the ozone would. Past the lifeguard materials, through the showers, toward the back doors that opened out to the docks: Nano and Madge walked in silence at this point, no love lost between them. They weren't particularly hopeful, having come up relatively empty-handed thus far. So when Madge swung the door open, they both made involuntary noises of shock at the sight of Edison and Collier down by the water. The two of them ducked down, falling to their hands and knees to keep out of sight.

"Holy shit," Madge hissed, pupils two black orbs as the adrenaline began to take control. "That's gotta be it, right? Somewhere in the lake?" Nano was quiet for a moment, watching them, trying to figure out what could be derived from their posture and positioning. "Hello?" Madge snapped her fingers by Nano's ear. "Staring at it longingly isn't going to help. What do you think? The inflatables? The dock?"

Nano shot her an annoyed look, pushing her hand out of his face. "If it were on the inflatables, they'd have someone over there too. And they'd have one person by the docks and another by the kayaks and canoes." To deter someone from swimming or trying to paddle across; to catch them off guard if they happened to reach it somehow anyway. "They're both on the dock," he shook his head, eyes narrowing at the sight of the other tributes -- two people he genuinely liked. "It's there."

And then, just as Nano was about to open his mouth, prepared to being strategizing a plan -- to lure them into the boathouse or sneak around and under the docks, Madge shot up, barreling at full speed toward the water. "What the fuck?!" he hissed, body freezing at the sight. At the pure stupidity. Madge was charging, racing down with impressive speed...right toward Edison.

@tribute-nano

It was quiet. It had been quiet for a long time aside from the lapping of the lake's little waves as they crashed against the legs of the dock. Since Victor left, Edison had spent her time with Collier mostly in silence so they wouldn't attract attention to where their team flag was hidden. Occasionally, she thought she heard someone coming or saw a flash of a body in the distance, but it was only ever some little animal going by. Edison began to trace the shapes of boats in her mind. She envisioned the shading of Collier's face half lit by the sun. She imagined the colors she'd need to make a dozen different shades of blue and green and brown. Edison retreated into the space of her own mind, and the rest of the world faded to a soft background of unimportance.

If she'd have been paying more active attention to her surroundings, Edison probably would've been better prepared for the girl from Six as she came barreling toward the dock. Their hiding place had been discovered, and now what was there to do but defend and fight?

[annab-nana]

🐚 leaning over to help the other with homework + peter parker (maybe a college au?)

you got it bestie :)

warnings: flustered!college!peter, peter goes dumb at the slimmest sight of boobs

❀ masterlist ❀

"are you getting negative twenty-three? i keep getting negative twenty-three but the website says that's wrong," the curly-haired brunet questioned exasperatedly, very much getting fed up with either his or the website's mistake. it had to be the website though, right? he'd worked out the problem on a couple sheets of paper at least three times and still, he was getting negative twenty-three.

you looked up and pushed aside your laptop where you were doing your own math homework. college-level calculus was no joke, but thankfully, you sat next to peter on the first day, bringing you a new friend to share your confusion and to help each other figure this shit out. it didn't hurt that he was adorable when he was slightly frustrated too.

"let me see," you requested as you reached out for his work. he handed you the two sheets of paper that were littered front and back with his poorly-scribbled calculations. his handwriting was subpar typically, but when he was working out math problems, it was even more difficult to read.

after some time of struggling to interpret his work, you finally got through it. to you, it all appeared to be correct. you put his papers to the side and lifted yourself out of your seat to lean against the table to be closer to peter or more so, his laptop.

you were sitting straight across from him and were now leaning in front of him. you had your weight supported on your left arm, your forearm flat on the tabletop while your right arm stretched out to turn his laptop around, but peter wasn't focused on the math problem anymore. his eyes were on your chest.

you wore a button-up sweater that was a little low cut, but for your modesty and some more warmth, you threw a cami on underneath. your cleavage was covered fairly well by the tanktop when you were sitting up straight, but when you were leaning forward, there wasn't much left to the imagination for peter.

he didn't mean to look down. he would never ever disrespect you in any way. but once his line of sight went south, it was hard for him to pull it up. it was like his eyes were magnetically forced down toward your chest which made it way more difficult to move them away. he was so honed in that he didn't hear you calling him an idiot.

you hadn't noticed where his focus was initially, but when he hadn't commented on your name-calling, you knew something was up when you didn't get a response or even a small pout.

"peter?" you called him by his preferred name and dipped your head down a fuzz to get a better look at him. the way his eyes snapped up to yours and widened in addition to how a rosy pink shade dusted over his cheeks and nose, it all told you what you needed to know and a smirk grew on your lips.

"is something distracting you, peter?" you asked tauntingly, leaning forward even more and bringing in your right arm to push your breasts together to make them even more noticeable. the boy before you visibly gulped and you knew him well enough to know what came next: the nervous rambling.

"wha- no, i- i'm good, never better actually. uh, did you, um, figure out what i d-did wrong?" he stammered, focusing extra hard on maintaining eye contact with you so his eyes wouldn't drift elsewhere.

"for starters, you practically undressed me with your eyes without asking me on a proper date first, but as for the math problem, you forgot that dr. hightower said to make sure you put in the negative sign, not the subtraction symbol because this website won't take that and will mark your answer as incorrect," you explained with a grin, loving to tease him.

"oh."

"yeah," you muttered before sitting back in your seat. you two got back to your work in a comfortable silence that lasted all of maybe thirty seconds before peter spoke again.

"hypothetically speaking," he started, pulling your attention away from your laptop screen, "if i were to ask you on a date, would you say yes?"

your smile returned shortly and you leaned against the table, shifting forward a bit just to tease him. "theoretically, it would depend on what you were thinking of doing on this purely suppositional date."

"i was thinking we could go try that new indian place near campus two buildings down from the coffee bean," peter stated before adding, "strictly notional, of course."

"of course," you agreed before pretending to ponder his 'hypothetical' request, "i'd have to say yes i would think."

"y/n, would you like to go out with me to the new indian place near the coffee bean this friday night?" peter inquired, still visibly nervous but not nearly as bad as before.

"are we still speaking in theory or are you being literal?"

"as literal as i've ever been," he responded, a hopeful grin tugging at his lips.

"then, it's a literal date."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new!

[august-writing]

Heartbeats

Rhyin wakes up from a surgery that infused magic into his blood, and he's starting to feel the side effects.

Heartbeats.

Rhyin woke to hear its pulsing in his mind. Soft and comforting, a sign of life. Fragments of his nightmare jumping to the beat and melting away to his memory. He pushed himself upright on his bed. His arm throbbed and felt hot. His chest burned and weighed heavy as if his heart searched to burst out. He got up on unsteady feet and slipped his robe on. His fingers worked to tie the belt in place as his mind wandered to the window. The light sung. A liturgy to the dead and lost. It's high notes filled his lungs and stung his eyes.

He made his way into the common room. And then there were many. All beating together in harmony, living in twine, bending in and out before fading away. Leaving just one heart. Beating.

"Good morning, Ketsler."

"Good morning. Oh you look awful-"

Ketsler fell into rambling about all the thoughts he'd stored to tell him. And the world fell silent. The ground began to cry. Begging. Pleading for fate to be unmade. Rhyin looked into Ketsler's eyes. "Can you hear this? Have you always heard?" The air moaned and it held the breath of a thousand lives. The earth was spinning, faster than a moment, cracking away into the dust of the stars. The world was on fire. Burning. Smoking away. The heat filled his lungs and into his chest.

"Rhyin," Ketsler had his hand on his shoulder now. "I think you need to go back to bed." 

He began gently herding him back to the door, and Rhyin followed dazed. He could hear the chatter of the other people in the room, hushed whispers and loud voices. The ground was steady and the air was silent.

"Sorry I," Rhyin rubbed his bandaged arm. "I really am fine, just a bit tired." He tried for a reassuring smile and instead landed on a weak rather not convincing face a lying convalescent makes.

Ketsler frowned. "You looked totally out of it. You should at least sit down. It looked like you saw literal ghosts shaking you."

"Do you see ghosts."

Ketsler widened his eyes and glanced around. "No...do you?"

Rhyin sat down in the chair he'd been herded to. "No." 

One singular heartbeat, in a room of people. Voices of the past riding on the wind. Whispers in the thunder. All tidings of misery. Smoke fills the air again. A fire burns like long ago. Caught in a web, lost in his mind…

Rhyin remembered to breathe. Whatever nightmares haunted him didn't have to follow in his waking hours. It was only a dream. Only his fears projected on a grand level. 

"You really don't need to be down here, you know." Ketsler looked flat out worried now. "You can go back to bed, nobody is gonna judge you."

Rhyin loosened his grip on the handrests. "I'll be okay."

"Rhyin…"

"I guess," he dropped his voice to almost a mumble. "I never really knew it was so different. I didn't really realize."

"What's it like?" Ketsler sat down across from him and leaned forward.

"A lot. It kinda burns." He shook his head slowly. "But that would be normal to you."

Ketsler glanced at his hands thoughtfully. "Yeah I guess it would.."

"How does it not drive you crazy." Fading heartbeats, raining fire. Tears to wash the dead away.

"What do you mean?" Ketsler carefully studied Rhyin's face.

"Nothing. I guess I'm just not very good at having magic." 

"Is it bothering you?"

Rhyin gazed at his hands resting in his lap, letting the silence gather in his mind. "I don't know, Ketsler. Maybe I've just been asleep all my life. Maybe this is what it's actually like to be alive. Maybe it will get better, I just need to...to catch up to you."

"So, what's with the bandage? Didn't they use a healing spell?" 

"Father says he used one to seal it closed. He said the internal healing should come from my own stores. It burns though." In his chest and through his blood, like liquid gold laced in lightning. Pulsing to a fading heartbeat.

Ketsler nodded slowly. "Did he give you any instructions?"

"Not really." Rhyin shrugged. "Told me not to try anything new without him. And don't let anyone cast anything on me." 

Polite laughter echoed through the group gathered in the room and caught his attention. Tehvlar was saying something that Rhyin didn't care to listen to, capturing interest of the many masters. "Oh. Right. He did say something about this earlier didn't he. Was I supposed to go talk to them?" He shifted in his seat, his mind reaching past the fog of sound around him to pay attention to the event. Noise. He frowned. Only mumbles lost in the haze. He watched then speak, gesture with their words, and yet he could not reach it, as if separated. 

"Excuse me a moment." Tehvlar detached himself from the group and came up next to Ketsler, speaking in a low tone. "Why don't you take him outside, the fresh air should help him. I'll talk to him in a bit so we can meet in my study." The haze grew cold, as when a shadow had passed in front of them, blocking the thin glow of the sun. Mutters sinking beyond sight.

He glanced back at the masters and down to his notebook. "It will only take me a half hour to wrap this up, okay?" 

Rhyin smirked to himself as rose from the chair. If he knew anything about his father he knew he'd take at least two hours to show off his pet project, especially when he had finally gathered the attention of the Masters. 

His legs felt unstable when he was up on them, he'd forgotten that when he sat down. They shook like they'd never learned to walk. And he felt his whole self shutter with it. A leaf caught in the breeze and thrown about on the air, but an ember drifting away from the fire, the branches of a tree left to tremble against the storm. The forces rage against it, and no one stops to wonder how it takes it.

Something was pulling at his arm. He glanced down to see Ketsler's hand. 

"Do you need help to walk?"

"I…" He took a step and the world shook back into place. The ground cracked and left him standing rooted at the edge of the pit, darkness leaking into it. Laughter seeping out of it. "Yeah I can walk." 

Ketsler wrap an arm under him and walked him out into the bright hallway before the backyard. 

"Come on, we only have to wait a half hour before Tehvlar can help you. You can just sit and rest." He swung the door open and they stepped out on to the grass. A beautiful day to greet them. And the world was begging to be unmade.

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

Master Tehvlar's study was always tidy. Even if in the middle of important experiments or whatever odd thing he was doing at the moment. Rhyin sat in one of his father's wingback chairs, his hands nervously waiting in his lap. His father was standing in front of him with one of his tiny notebooks, its cover faded and bent. The fireplace behind his burning merrily, a steady glow across the room. He could see the table tucked once more into the corner. A set of cloths neatly folded, assorted jars unlabeled, a case of equipment, a glass with scissors and knifes. The room felt dark and closed. The air too thin for its space. Hushed voices gathered in the corners, tucked in the shadows, afraid to venture further into the master's sight.

"How have you been feeling?" 

"Alright." His head swam and he blinked away the haze that gathered in the corners of his vision. Lingering figures of smoke rose from the shadows. Shaking their heads and wringing their hands, ink dripping from them and seeping into the stones.

"Rhyin, it's very noble of you to try and shoulder it with no assistance. But that won't do." His father frowned at him. "I can't properly take care of you if you lie."

Rhyin sighed and rubbed his throbbing arm. 

"So what are you feeling?" He tilted his head to the side, squinting as if the different angle would reveal his son's thoughts on paper.

"It hurts, I guess." Smoke and fog mixed on the floor, rolling over the smooth stone surface and curling around Tehvlar's legs. Little glowing fireflies of ember took to the air.

"You guess? Think about it, you can give a more clear answer than that." 

"I don't really know what to call it." Rhyin frowned and glanced up to his father's unfazed expression.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes." Rhyin quickly added, "but it's not unbearable, I'll be fine." 

Drumming. A pulsing beat running through his head. His hands shook as he fiddled with the edge of his robe. A million heartbeats rising from below. From the grave around him. Ghosts moaning in the shadow of his father. The wind crying through the cracks.

"Where are you feelin-" Tehvlar's voice blew away, and his face blurred. The ground around his feet lit red and rippled as melted wax. The ghosts in his shadows dripping and bleeding into the floor. Swirling black in orange. Thundering above it all the pulse and breath of many souls. 

And then it broke. Shattering across time. The stones buckled under it and cracked like fine glass. The smoky figures blown away below, grasping to Tehvlar as they sunk. Leaving only a gaping hole of silence gnawing at the empty heartbeat. Rhyin gasped and bent over, closing his eyes. He shook and willed it all to clear away. 

Something was touching him, pressing against him. A low ringing filled his ears and his mind washed over clear. 

It was Ketsler's voice—muffled as if Rhyin was sunk into water—calling to him. 

"Please answer me-" 

"I'm okay." Rhyin could see him now, bent in front of him, his hands resting on his shoulder and back. His eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"No, I don't think so." Ketsler's eyes searched his face and he abruptly turned to Tehvlar. "Things like this have been happening all day, though not this bad. 

Rhyin looked up to his father and found him gazing at him with worry. A sorrow sitting deep in his eyes. He shook his head slowly and muttered to himself. Whispers and lies, cracks and fog.

"I'm jus-" 

"No listen, we can't help if you keep pretending it's not an issue." Ketsler interrupted.

"I was just gon-" 

"What was bothering you?" Tehvlar turned back to face him, the fire's glow highlighting his face.

Rhyin gazed at him, memory churning around in his head. "I don't know. It's like...the world was screaming."

Tehvlar nodded slowly, but below his cool surface Rhyin could see him frightened. "How is your arm?"

"It's been stinging." Rhyin glanced down at it.

His father crouched down next to him and gently unwrapped it, revealing discoloration like a bruise running up to his elbow and outlining his veins. Smoke to the fill the blood and ashes as a heart. The soft thudding of life like a hum in his mind.

Tehvlar muttered something to himself and rose, grabbing a square jar off his table. Kicking up and swirling the low crawling mist that reflected the fire. Translucent orange.

"Have you tried any spells?" He began to spread the pale oily cream on Rhyin's arm.

"No, you said not to." The thin mist spreading across the room, like a blanket to comfort the ground. Floating above it and over his feet.

"Hmm, yes I did. You'll need to sleep more."

"So something is wrong?" Ketsler stood beside Rhyin's chair, the tension he felt captured in his tight drawn brows. A glasslike sea leaking and reaching to take hold of Rhyin's legs, clinging with invisible hands. Curling away from Ketsler, afraid to dare that far. Afraid of the innocence. To stain what was untouched.

"Something could be wrong if he doesn't take care of it right. Just like anything else." 

"Did something go wrong?" Ketsler stepped forward slightly, his voice pressing for a solid response. 

"Ketsler, calm down. You don't have to worry. I'm taking care of him." Tehvlar wrapped Rhyin's arm again with a clean cloth, giving it a pat as if to send it off to mind itself.

"You're looking for trouble really. He is recovering, of course he…"

Hissing. Cracking and swinging into a ring of silence, a storm too loud to be heard. Ghosts clinging to his clothes, pulling, begging. Wraith of a figure lifted out and gripping for him. Faces there for a moment full of agony, falling away. Tears streaking their wind of a face, the voice of their pleas unread. Yet the desperate loss, the consuming pain was clear. Weighing them down into the ground. Falling out of reach, beyond time. Rhyin could feel it along with them, as if he was sinking below. His pulse quickened as his breath caught in his throat. He reached to touch them lightly. His hand passed through and beyond, the misty arms curling around him. Over his wrist and into his veins. A sharp sting of cold, a bitter numb. Rhyin closed his fist. The spell was broken. Wails filled his ears. Every different longing singing together, yearning for the undoing of it all. Pulling on him, pressing him, asking for mercy. How could he deny them? How could he turn them away? His own heartbeat driving along each cry, a lifeline they reached for. The living memory of their loss. A chill ran up his spine, spreading into his bones. His breath can fast as panick bled upon him. 

Like the white coat of a dandelion they broke and drifted away, down, down below. Gathering softly as snow. Lace to crown the earth. Mist cleared into crystal tears, gentle mourning.

"No. Wait. The snow was real. Ketsler must be freaking out."

The room was several degree colder then he'd last noticed. Flakes of snow hung in the air, gently spinning. Froze grew on the floor, up the legs of the chair, and Rhyin's feet. 

"Calm down, you hear me? How is this going to help at all? Freezing his legs will make it worse." 

Tehvlar gestured widely to the room with one hand—his voice raised—the other hand firmly placed on Ketsler's shoulder.

Ketsler was seated on the table, his hands tightly gripping the edge, knuckles white. A jolt of fear went through Rhyin. He shouldn't be sitting there. Not where he had.. Death haunts him.

"Ketsler. Ketsler it's okay. Please unfreeze my feet."

Relief washed over Ketsler's face. The snowflakes fell and disappeared like shooting stars. The ice melting into puddles across the floor and leaving Rhyin's feet wet. 

"Sorry, I was just...worried."

"Thanks." Rhyin mumbled, shaking his foot. 

Tehvlar watched him with a blank expression. Letting go of Ketsler's shoulder and stepping back. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah." Rhyin could still see it, as vivid as a dream. But only a dream. "Like I said earlier, I really am fine. If anything, I'm dizzy. But I also haven't eaten today. So Ketsler you can stop worrying."

"I did!" 

Rhyin raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well okay but in my defense you said that earlier right before you zoned out." Ketsler crossed his arms, hunching forward into himself.

"Ketsler, go help him get some soup. You can make sure he doesn't trip on something if it makes you feel better." Tehvlar rubbed his thumb across his fingers absently as he stared out the window.

"After you eat I want you to go back to bed." He wheeled his attention back around to Rhyin. 

"Yes sir." Rhyin got up from the chair quietly, stepping over the slippery stone floor. A stillness fell in the room. A quiet kind of thought, one that breeds sorrow and regret.

Ketsler slid off the table and joined Rhyin at the door. He glanced back at Tehvlar as he opened it, his uncle highlighted in the orange glow of the fire he thoughtfully watched. The two boys stood for a moment in doorway before softly leaving the weary master to himself. Eyes distant, back turned to those he swore to protect. Tapping his pencil against his little notebook. 

A rhythm that haunted him. A heartbeat.

[pumpkin-stars]

Hmm okay HC requests. I saw you write for Ezra and I love him so maybe some enemies to lovers with Ezra? Like your a fellow prospector and you have to share a pod with him when the rest of your team gets wiped out and you can’t stand him but you also find him incredibly attractive? ❤️

My favourite guy and one of my favourite tropes! This also has a splash of mutual pining because I couldn't resist :)

Masterlist | Taglist

You never meant to hate him, and he never meant to hate you, but somewhere along the line your interactions went from amicable to frosty to down right hostile. (Around the time he realised he liked you, didn't know how to deal with it, and distanced himself instead of talking things through).

If he wasn't going to treat you with respect - or even so much as acknowledge you, you weren't going to acknowledge him either.

But now? When you're stuck cohabiting in an enclosed space after escaping from a group of crazed moondwellers, the rest of your team decomposing in the dust...

You have to interact. You can't avoid it.

It was "instinct," he tells you, "reachin' for the closest hand I could grab and pullin' whoever it was along with me" because "you know how I hate silence, gem."

And yeah, you do know. Whether it's discussing what to do when you make it onto the Bug, mumbling to himself as he moves around the pod, muttering in his sleep, or regaling you with tales of his past exploits, he's rarely quiet.

It had annoyed you, on the digsite, when he'd spend the days rambling, making his way through every comm channel until whichever teammates were using it told him to shut up, always returning to whichever you were using with a sharp crackle just as you needed to concentrate. With a "careful, birdie," that never failed to make you miss your mark and turn your harvest to goo.

But now? When you actually listen to him? You can see him for the lonely man he is... Talking to fill the silence, to prevent himself thinking on the swirling vortex of shit in his head, to offer companionship to others in a misguided effort to prevent them feeling the same ache...

He's tired when he tells you, right on the edge of sleep when he says "didn't just grab anyone." You look across the pod at him, frowning as he shifts his body to face you. "When they started firing? I wasn't anywhere near you. Gem, I have never felt a panic so debilitating as when I couldn't see you in that moment. I forgot everything I know except how to run, but my gut pushed me to you. I regret that I could only get one other out with me, but I will thank Kevva always that I found you before you were mortally wounded."

"I thought you hated me?" You stare.

"I hated myself, birdie." He smiles, a hint of bitterness, "Hated that I couldn't simply tell you that you always looked radiant under the sun, that every smile you offered made my heart flutter and simultaneously break with the knowledge that they weren't for me."

"You're an idiot." You say it fondly, heart thumping.

"That I am," he nods, "And I will forever mourn the time I wasted being a coward, more so if my apparent hatred for you has tarnished your opinion of me beyond repair." His eyes close, and he turns to lie on his back (you barely hide the wince that follows, knowing his snores will keep you awake when he sleeps just so), "I never once hated you, gem, and I hope you might one day no longer hate me."

"I never hated you either, Ez."

~~~

Taglist: @a-skov @agentshortstacc @amneris21 @apascalrascal @darnitdraco @idreamofboobear @irrelevantbutembarrassing @joanofarkansass @kaybrownies @phrog-seeds @readsalot73 @santiagogarcia @tobealostwanderer @yours-truly-r

[sunny6677]

Eddie Eddie Literature Club!

(Act 1, Chapter 1)

(TW: THIS IS A DDLC X EDDSWORLD CROSSOVER. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IF DDLC TRIGGERS YOU, THEN DONT READ THIS. AND TAKE THIS WARNING SERIOUSLY.)

(BTW the player is you, just so ya know)

-

"Heyyyy!"

I see an annoying boy running towards me, waving his arms in the air like there's no tomorrow. That boy is Matt, a good mate of mine from when we were children. We hadn't spoken in a good while, but had reunited after I moved back.

To be honest, with how late he'd usually be for our daily coffee hangouts-- I figured I'd just leave him in the dust and let him find me himself. But as I sigh, I just idle in front of the sidewalk and let him catch up to me.

"Wooh! Sorry, Little Tom was broken out of his mind today! I had to fix him before I came here!"

His pathetic, wheezing voice only made me roll my eyes. "Oh, typical.. did ya break em while having an erection over yourself again?" Matt, surprisingly, did not blush at this. "No! Well, I mean, maybe a little.."

"Maybe a little isn't an answer, Matt." A smile faded into my face as I began to walk off, ready and prepared to go inside of the coffee shop we'd usually visit together. Matt then immediately hurried after me.

"Hey, wait, stop running off randomly for no reason! I haven't haven't got to tell you about my face yettt!!" Dramatically, he called that out and followed after me. I only scurried faster to piss him off more.

-

Warmth was felt on my mug of coffee, as I flinched from its lava like touch. I put my hand on the cold, hard table me and Matt sat at, as he only rambled on and on about his day. I dismissively nodded along to whatever he was going on about, since I really just wanted coffee at the moment.

Well, coffee that wasn't burning hot at the moment anyway. I swear, it was like my tongue came on fire from how hot the usually good warm brown liquid was.

"Oh, and that reminds me!" Said Matt suddenly, sounding enthusiastic. My eyes lit up with attentiveness for a moment, a little curious as to why he was so excited about whatever crossed his mind. Then again, he was always excited.

"You see, me and my mates started a literature club!"

That.. wasnt exactly what I thought was gonna come out of his mouth. Matt?.. Doing literature of all things?

"Literature? Since when were you into that?" Curiosity and confusion flickered in my eyes, he only gave a grin as a response to my question. "Well, Tord said that if I joined the club, he'd make me cupcakes-- I mean, um-- i-- I didn't agree to that obviously! Heheh.."

He so did.

But.. Tord. I had heard that name a few times from when we had been kids, but had never met him.

But also.. cupcakes, huh? Wonder if there'd be room for one more person in the club, heh..

I rolled my eyes after a moment of silence. "Well, why are you bringing this up?" I asked. Knowing him, there was probably something he wanted.

"Because.." He then stood up, and flung his arms towards my shoulders, and grinned stupidly with light glistening inside his eyes. "I want YOU to join the literature club with me!"

I sat for a second, before clearing my throat. "Matt, I am not interested in literature or anything of the sort-- I wouldn't be proper fit for the club--" Matt then pouted like a sad puppy, catching me off guard.

"Aww, come on! Please~!" He begged, "Tom will pour booze, and Tord has plenty of food as well!" His pleading face made me flinch a bit, and I averted my gaze from his sorrow filled face.

Food.. and booze.

Food.. and booze!

I sighed, and warmth flooded my face like a cascade of waters, as my heart beat slightly faster. "Fine, I'll stop by for a damn cupcake, but don't get the wrong idea.."

Matt's face shimmered with happiness, and in an instant, both of his arms aimed towards the sky. "Yayy!!" He cheered loudly, earning us a few stares. Sweat dripped down my face, this was a little embarrassing..

"Well, does this mean I'll stop by after our coffee-" "Nope, now come on!" Matt suddenly then clung to my arm, and pulled me out of my chair. I yelped, as he and i(well, I was being forced--) then began to escape out of the coffee shop.

A batista yelled after us, but Matt only ignored him.

And thus remarked the day I sold my soul for a cupcake.

/////////////////

Oh boy

[uas-fics]

-Title: Flower Crowns

Rating: G

Summary: Half lost on his walk, Leon finds a frustrated Piers attempting to weave flowers together.

Ships: Leon x Piers

Content Warnings: N/A

----

What a wonderful day for a walk. The sun shone over the yellow-green of the land. Not a single cloud floated across the blue sky. Flowers swayed in a gentle breeze. Rookidie chattered in the trees as bug pokemon skittered along the ground.

Simply a wonderful day outside of...Well, Leon didn't know exactly where he was, but he was at least sixty percent sure he was outside of Hulsbury. Or maybe Tuffield? He was on one side of the Northern Wild Areas.

Probably.

He stretched his arms up. His jacket sleeves rolled down to his elbows. The worn blue jacket had been his grandfather's and was still a little too big for him, even now that he was an adult, but it was comfortable and warm enough for spring days. He kept it with him when he wanted to go incognito since it wasn’t as distinguishable as his sponsor cape.

He could use more days off like this, more calming walks in nature with nothing but the plants, wild pokemon, and--

"Oh, c'mon!"

Leon jumped, nearly knocking his hat from his head.

Who was that?

He titled his head, listening. Someone swore up a storm not too far away. Half in an attempt to help, and half to seek confirmation of his location, Leon followed the colorful language over a small hill to its source.

Amongst a field of wildflowers and tall grass, someone kicked at the dirt. Grass, flowers, and dirt sprayed into the air.

"And you’re no help, you piece of--!" They spun around, throwing something.

Leon ducked just in time to avoid coming face to screen with a cellphone. The phone landed with a dull thud in the grass behind his feet.

Regret welled up in Leon's stomach. Maybe he should have just called the Pokemon League and asked them for help getting home. This person seemed too upset, and Leon interrupting their rage would just make them angrier, won't it?

"Champion Leon?"

Leon jumped at the sound of his name. Taking his gaze off the phone on the ground, he looked towards the phone's owner.

The gym leader of Spikemuth winced.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate." Piers raised his hands, palms facing forward as if he expected Leon to throw something back at him.

Leon shook his head, both to shake off his shock as well as to placate Piers. He picked up the phone.

"It's nothing to worry about," He reassured, wiping the screen on his jacket sleeve. On the screen, some sort of brightly colored webpage stared back at Leon. In a curling font, the header read 'Just A Unovan Country Gal' with 'recipes, DIYs, and patterns for good old girls' written underneath.

Deciding not to ask about the site, he pressed the power button as he passed the phone back, darkening the screen. Piers put the phone in his pocket. He hadn’t noticed Leon staring at the screen or didn’t acknowledge he knew Leon saw it, at least.

"You're lost, aren’t you?" Piers didn't hesitate to ask.

"What? Of course not. I know where I am," Leon lied, unsure why he did. Everyone in the Pokemon League knew he was terrible with directions. Every gym leader had to come to find and escort him to their gym at some point or another, including Piers.

"If you need help gettin' home, I can take you,'' Piers offered. "I'm done with...I'm done for today."

"Done with what?" Leon couldn't help but venture. The Unovain website flashed in his mind’s eye.

He couldn't figure why Piers of all people would be in a wildflower field in the middle of the day so far from Spikemuth. Was he picking flowers for a special someone? Searching for a certain pokemon? Training his team? Did it have to do with the website he had open on his phone?

Piers wrinkled his nose. "None of your business."

It was Leon's turn to hold up his hands. "Sorry." He took a few steps past Piers. "Didn't mean to pry. I'll leave you to it if you can point me toward Hulsbury."

Piers eyed him up and down, slowly, calculatingly. A shiver ran up Leon's back. Why did his stomach twist into knots? It wasn't like Piers planned on stabbing him.

With a heavy sigh, Piers pinched Leon's jacket between his fingers, stopping him from wandering off.

"Flower crown," he muttered, refusing to look at him.

"What?"

"Flower. Crown. I was trying to make a flower crown." Piers took his hand away to run it through his thick bangs, pushing them back away from his face. A tinge of pink blush dusted his face.

Leon bit the inside of his cheek to keep a laugh in. Flower crowns? Piers was the least likely person to be making flower crowns. Leon tried to imagine the dark-type gym leader with a ring of wild daisies and dandelions around his head but only succeeded in a snort of amusement at the idea.

Piers glowered and raised his hand. All of his nails had a sheen of shiny black paint, except for the middle one lifted at Leon, which was a matte white.

"If I left you out here, you would die of exposure before you found your way back."

Leon covered his mouth before another snort could make its way out.

"Sorry, sorry, but..." He took a breath, "why do you need a flower crown? It doesn't much match your..." he gestured to Piers’ punk, monochromatic outfit, “aesthetic.”

"It isn't for me," Piers snapped. "It's for Marnie, my sister. She wants one, not me."

Leon wasn't sure he'd ever actually met Piers' sister. He rarely went to Spikemuth, and when he did, he just stopped by the gym to deliver papers to Piers and get out. Had he ever even seen Piers’ sister before? She was about Hop's age, he knew that, but he couldn't remember if she was a little older or a little younger.

"Oh, of course. That makes sense," Leon said. "That's nice of you to make her one."

Piers searched his face for any sign of insincerity. Leon flashed him his champion smile. Whether that helped or not, he didn’t know.

Piers snorted. More to himself than Leon, he muttered, "It'd be nicer if I knew how to make one. Stupid website wasn’t any help..."

At this, Leon finally took a gander around. Most of the flowers had been plucked in the immediate area. They either sat in a pile or as parts of what Leon could only assume were attempts at flower crowns.

He knelt and picked a crown up, holding it carefully. Yellow daisies made up the crown. Each daisy had a slit cut in the stem with the next daisy slipped through until the end where the last stem was tied to the first. It was crude and the spacing of the flowers uneven, but not the worst flower crown Leon had ever seen.

Before Leon could look closer, Piers snatched the crown out of his hands. Pale yellow petals fell to the ground.

He glared, the tips of his ears burning red. “Making flower crowns isn’t a life skill they teach you in school, you know.”

Leon tilted his head to the side then asked, "Do you want help?"

"Help?" Piers tossed the crown into the tall grass. "You know how to make them?"

Leon nodded. "I grew up in Postwick." He fell back to his bottom. "Everyone knew how to make a proper crown." His lips twitched up into a smile. "I remember chasing down a wooloo to stop it from eating the crown I'd just given it."

He took a few daisies from the pile next to him. It took mere seconds for his fingers to remember the motion of wrapping stem over stem.

"Silly thing was someone's prized wooloo, and the farmer spoiled it rotten," Leon continued, occasionally looking down at his hands, "so when it saw me coming towards it with a handful of flowers, it thought it was getting a treat."

He laughed at the memory. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. His mother still brought it up when she wanted to embarrass him in front of guests.

“I remember looking out the window and seeing my little boy, nearly in tears, shouting at a fat old wooloo.” She’d laugh. “Oh, he chased that thing for an hour trying to catch it!”

As Leon continued rambling, Piers watched his hands weave together daisies, dandelions, and corncockle. He sat back with his hands resting across his knees. He puffed his cheeks a little as he watched, breathing only through his nose. Whether he noticed he was doing it or not, Leon wasn't sure and didn't ask.

"And that's how I broke my arm for the first time," Leon finished, holding up the crown. He placed it on Piers' head where it sat unevenly on top of his ponytails. Leon beamed at Piers, proud of his work as if they were children playing in the fields of Postwick and not young adults.

Piers brushed his fingertips against the soft petals. He took a dandelion and a wild clover flower from one of the piles. With his face set in determination, he started to copy what he'd seen Leon doing. He wove together six flowers before tossing his hands in the air.

"What am I doing wrong?" He demanded.

Leon scooted until he sat next to Piers then took the crown to examine it. He nodded to himself. Without asking, Leon took Piers' hands in his own.

"You're doing it backward. See here?" Leon made Piers' thumb press against the first wrap in the crown. Instead of locking around the flower, the stem went behind it. A simple mistake for a first-time crown weaver to make.

Piers pulled his hands back.

"I think I got it." He took a meadows cranesbill and corncockle and began the wrap and lock method Leon showed him. He held up his attempt for inspection.

"That's it. Just keep doing that until it's long enough."

"This is going to take a while," Piers said, adding a daisy to the chain.

Leon shrugged sympathetically. "It might," he settled into a more comfortable, half-reclined position, "but it'll be fine. I'm here to help."

Piers paused and looked over at Leon, eyeing him once again. This time, however, Leon didn't feel a chill run up his back. Instead, heat crept up his cheeks at Piers' half smile towards.

Leon's pride wanted him to hold Piers' gaze as he would with any other gym leader, but he broke away to look at a patch of foxgloves in the distance.

"Thanks." Piers turned back to his project.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Piers held out a flower. Its stem was too short.

"D’you know what this is?" He asked, dropping the flower in Leon's lap.

Leon picked it up and spun it in between his fingers. Of course, he knew what it was, but he shrugged and pretended to think it over.

"Primrose, I think." He said. "My grandma kept some fancier varieties in the house when I was growing up."

The memory of cleaning up broken pots formed a smile on his face. Sonia and he landed themselves on his grandmother’s naughty list for killing her primroses, even if it was an accident.

Piers hummed. "I thought that's what it was. And this?"

Leon moved next to Piers. "That's a ragged robin. This is a cornflower. That's chicory." He continued pointing out the names of the flowers he knew, silently thanking his mother and grandparents for explaining all the wildflowers to him when he was a kid.

Of course, he didn't know them as well as Milo. He couldn't tell what medical uses dandelions had or how to make coffee from chicory, but Piers seemed impressed nonetheless with his botanical knowledge.

Leon picked up a flower from a failed crown attempt. He held it up, about to explain what it was, but Piers spoke first.

“That’s a wild violet.”

Leon slowly nodded. He was a little disappointed he didn’t get to explain it but shoved the feeling away. Of course, Piers would know such a common flower.

Piers smiled down at his work. “Marnie made me fill a whole basket with them once. She learnt you can cook with them.”

“Did you--cook with it, I mean?”

“Unfortunately.” Piers snorted. “I’ve had pot brownies that taste less like grass.” He paused, then added nonchalantly, “Before I was part of the league, of course.”

, Leon snorted a laugh to himself. That was a lie, he knew, but instead of remarking on it, he said, “Did you use the flowers or leaves?”

“Marnie baked them, not me. I just turned on the oven. I think she just put the whole plant in there, roots and all.” He laughed. “I’m going to have to tease her about that when I get home. Thanks for reminding me about that.”

Finally, Piers held up his crown. It was far from perfect, some of the flowers lost their petals and long stems stuck out at odd angles, but Piers held it out as if it were a royal crown. His expression wasn’t unlike how Leon’s mum said he looked when he finished making a crown for the spoiled wooloo.

"Wow, it looks great," Leon complimented.

Piers snorted with a smile. "For a first attempt, I guess." He looked at his flower crown, then at Leon, then back, before reaching up. He took hold of the bill of Leon's baseball cap. With a flick of the wrist, he tossed it off then replaced it with the crown.

He smiled at him. “You look like a prince, champ.” He teased before bending down and picking up the hat.

“I could say the same.”

The two shared a laugh and grins. Their fingers touched as Piers pushed the hat into Leon's hands. Leon wasn’t sure the touch was unintentional.

"It's getting late."

Leon looked up at the saturated orange-red sky.

"If you get me to Hulsbury, I can get a taxi home."

Piers chuckled and shook his head. "You really are lost, aren’t you? We're not too far outside the Spikemuth Tunnel, mate."

Leon dropped his hat. He held his head in his hands. The heat of embarrassment crept up his face. He had wandered farther off the beaten path than he thought. How did he even get so far away from where he started like this?

With a sympathetic smile, Piers put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"How about I take you back to my place, as a thank you for teaching me this." He gestured to the crown on his head. "I'll cook you up a little somethin' then you can hitch a ride on a flying taxi back home."

Leon's heart skipped a beat. He swallowed the embarrassment down and smiled.

"That sounds great."

----

AN: I stopped writing this halfway through to go outside, find some flowers, and learn how to do this because the way I described Piers doing it is how I've always done it. XP It is a completely valid way to make flower chains don't get me wrong, but it doesn't look nearly as fancy.

Anyway, maybe a little too sugary sweet, but I wanted to write some short fluff and doggone it I did!

Check out @uas-art for more of my drawings.

[wonglix]

➺ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴀs sᴜɢᴀʀ

⤷ baker!y/n x mingi

⤷ mingi was known for being somewhat of an outcast, not letting anyone get close to him. he also appears to have a particularly sweet tooth for your pastries (and you)

⤷ fluff

⤷ 3.5k words

mingi silently watches you pack up another customer's order, his eyes focusing on the warm smile on your face. the sweet smell that is prominent in the bakery is almost overshadowed by the sweetness in your voice and mingi has to blink a few times to snap out of his trance. once it was his turn, he quietly points to the strawberry-lime cupcakes. he skilfully avoids your eyes when you look up at him to ask how many; "six," his voice was calm, contrary to the excessive hammering of his heart in his chest. he doesn't know how it happened, how he became this infatuated with you. there is one thing he does know, though: he absolutely loves the sweets you make. the first time he got to eat one of your deliciously sweet treats was when you brought raspberry crumble bars to school after you made too many the previous day.

"mingi?" the sweet call of his name made him lift his head from his arms, surprise taking over his features when he realised that it was you standing in front of his desk. he stared up at you silently, making you awkwardly clear your throat, "i just wanted to ask you if you'd like some of the raspberry crumble bars i made?". he kept silent, staring at the small piece of dessert you were holding out to him. his silence began to make you nervous, anxiously pulling back, "i-it's fine if you don't want one, i'll just-"he stops your rambling by taking the crumble bar from you, making you look down at him in surprise, "thank you.". nodding enthusiastically you sent him a small, nervous smile.

you hurried back to your own desk, sitting down and eyeing mingi curiously. mingi had placed the crumble bar on his desk instead of eating immediately which, quite frankly, disappointed you a bit. you were excited to see his reaction, to see if he enjoyed it. you never got to witness it though, since mingi never ate it. that what you thought, at least. mingi had saved the treat for later and, unbeknownst to you, ate it on his bus ride home. mingi enjoyed it a lot, the sweet treat filling him with joy and excitement. he always had quite the sweet tooth, but he was convinced that he never had anything as sweet as that raspberry crumble bar from you.

mingi was just about to turn and leave the bakery when you suddenly called out to him, "uhm, mingi? could i talk to you for a second, please?" he's stunned and looks at you, merely nodding silently. a bright smile appears on your face, and you lean over the counter a bit, looking directly into his eyes. "my shift ends in 20 minutes, could you wait until then? just take a seat over there, and i'll come to you as soon as i can, yeah?". mingi didn't know what made him say yes, maybe it was the adorable smile on your face or the excited sparkle in your eyes. he went to sit down at the table you had pointed out previously. he was sitting there, occasionally letting his gazer avert from his phone to you, your eyes meeting more than once. every time your eyes met, you smiled at him, and mingi silently cursed himself for physically feeling his heart speed up every single time. he doesn't know what you want to talk to him about, but it reminds him of one of the few times you've spoken to him, a memory he holds dear to his heart.

he was sitting in the empty classroom, playing some games on his phone waiting for the lunch break to be over. he never really ate lunch, and even if he would, the atmosphere in the cafeteria was overwhelming and too much for him anyway. so he usually spent his lunch break in the classroom on his own, killing time by playing games, listening to music or sometimes even taking a little nap. mingi was so focused on his game that he didn't hear the classroom door opening and closing. neither did he notice the sound of the steps getting closer to him. it's no surprise that he let out a screech once he felt someone tap his shoulder, whipping his head around with a scared look on his face. he was met with your startled eyes, a guilty look on your face. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to startle you.." you seemed to be legitimately sorry, a small pout forming on your face. mingi cleared his throat and adjusted his posture a bit, "it's... it's fine, don't worry about it." you smile and sit down at the desk next to him. he shifts his gaze from you back to his phone, only to return his eyes to you, growing shy when your eyes meet. "why are you sitting here all on your own?" you break the silence. he looks at you, trying to determine whether your question was serious or not. "i don't eat lunch. i also don't really have friends, so sitting in the cafeteria would be quite sad.". you let out a small giggle, mingi turning to look at you with raised eyebrows. "i'm sorry, it's just...i relate. it's weird sitting in the cafeteria on your own, so i get why you rather spend your time here.". mingi was quite surprised, he always thought that you got along quite well with your classmates.

"you said you don't eat lunch, right?" you sounded curious and genuinely interested in him. it was confusing for him. "um, yeah. i just don't really want to, that's all." you nodded quietly, brows furrowed a bit and thoughts obviously running wild. suddenly you got up and went to your own desk, rummaging through your bag. pulling out a lunchbox you walk back to mingi, sitting down again and looking at him with a smile, "i know you said you don't like to eat lunch, but could you try some of these chocolate brownies? it's a new recipe, and i don't really have anyone that could try them for me, so...". mingi stares at you in disbelief, letting out an airy chuckle, "are you serious?". the second those words left his lips he already knew the answer, your doe eyes looking at him with so much sincerity in them that it made him want to cry. or maybe kiss you, he wasn't sure at the time yet.

"sorry that i kept you waiting, here's chocolate milk for you," you panted out, obviously exhausted from hurrying to keep mingi from waiting any longer. he just shrugged it off, taking a small sip from the chocolate milk, watching you with expecting eyes. "the reason i asked you to stay is that i wanted you to try something for me.". mingi furrows his brows, "try something for you?" you nodded, placing a small box with the bakery's logo on it on the table. mingi reaches out to open it, but he stops in his tracks when you place your hand on top of his, his breath slightly hitching in his throat and he prays that you didn't notice. "there are a few new recipes i tried out and i want to show them to my boss, but i'm not confident enough. so i thought that i'd ask you to try them and if you like them, i'll introduce them to my boss," you muttered softly, your thumb unconsciously drawing circles onto mingi's hand. he can feel his palms getting sweaty again, his heart pounding in his ears and his throat getting dry. it's ridiculous how weak he got at every single small thing you did, but he just couldn't help himself; he was in love.

an hour and plenty of sweets later the two of you still sat at the table, small giggles and brave flirty comments being thrown around. mingi has no idea how this happens, how the two of you fell into such a comfortable conversation. still, he was more than happy that it happened. he knew that his cheeks were probably bright red and that you most likely caught onto his stuttering, but he honestly doesn't care anymore. he has been pining for you for so long, daydreaming about your pretty face and hoping that one day, he'll build up enough courage to finally ask you out. you smile, taking his hand in yours, "thank you for trying them, mingi. i'm glad you liked them, i was a bit worried, to be honest," you giggle a bit, a lovestruck smile creeping its way onto mingi's face at the sound. "they were all delicious. i wasn't expecting anything else though, your treats are always delicious," his voice was soft. because he felt confidence rush through him for a split second he softly intertwines your fingers, a blush dusting his cheeks. the way you smile at him, the blush that spreads from your cheeks to your neck makes him want to kiss you so bad it makes his head spin. "thank you.." your voice was quiet and soft, eyes sparkling and he doesn't know what to do with himself. now would be the perfect time to ask you out, you're so close, you're literally holding hands, and there's no way you'd say no right now, right?

his mind is racing and before he can even begin to think about all the possible ways to ask you out you speak up, "uhm, mingi? would you...would you like to come over to my place? we could make some sweets together since you like them so much..." your voice got quieter with every word, and it made his heart clench. if he wasn't so busy with trying to calm his pounding heart down mingi might've felt proud at the effect he had on you. he speaks up almost too quickly and too enthusiastically. he'll probably beat himself up over it later. still, right now there is nothing he wants more than for you to understand how desperately he wants to go on a date with you. "yeah, yeah, of course. i'd like that, a lot actually.." you smile, a breathy chuckle escaping you at the excitement in his voice, "i'm glad... i'll text you when okay? you remember where i live, right?" he wants the earth to open up and swallow him at the mention of the first and only time mingi has been at your house so far.

the very first time mingi ever set foot in your house was thanks to a project. when the teacher had mentioned that it would be a group project mingi had let out a sigh. it's no wonder that he was somewhat surprised when you called out to him, asking him if he'd like to work with you. how could he possibly say no to that? you smiled and went back to taking notes, leaving mingi to stare at you for a bit longer before he snapped back into reality. you slipped a small piece of paper on his desk, "here's my address and my number. just text me when you're free, alright?". you smiled and waved at him, leaving the classroom. he stared at the folded piece of paper for a while.

that evening he decided to text you, his palms sweaty and heart hammering against his chest. he had always envisioned it to be a nightmare even trying to get your number in the first place, and now that he had it, he didn't know what to do. what was he supposed to say? just a simple "hey"? should he be a little more serious, maybe a "hey. it's me, mingi."? he was overwhelmed, the fear of making a fool of himself nagging at him. gathering up all the courage he had left in that freakishly large body of his he grabs his phone and texts you a simple "hey". pacing around his room, anxiously waiting for an answer from you. and then you answered, making him almost jump out of his skin at the notification sound. it was only a mere "hey :)" from you, but he could've sworn that he felt his heart swell. he was definitely infatuated. you agreed that it would be best if he came over on the weekend and mingi couldn't be happier. perhaps it was wrong to feel like it could be a date, but he was just too excited and in love to think appropriately.

and then saturday came. mingi had changed his outfit several times, struggling with finding something that made him feel comfortable. at some point, he just gave up. he was anxiously playing with his fingers the whole way to your house while trying to come up with conversation starters and things to talk about. mingi stood in front of your home and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. not even a minute later you opened the door, greeting mingi with an excited smile on your face.

you worked on your project relentlessly, not much talking going on between the two of you. mingi kept glancing at you from time to time, panic settling within him when you looked up only to find him staring at you. you didn't really seem to mind though, kindly smiling at him each time and quietly going back to work.

"how about i get us some snacks?" you asked while putting down your pen, facing mingi. mingi nods, getting up with you to help when you suddenly turn and smile up at him, gesturing for him to sit back down, "you're my guest, mingi. sit back down, i'll go get it." a few minutes later you came back with a tray full of baked goods and drinks, mingi staring at you in awe. "i know you like sweets, so i made some yesterday. i hope you like them," your voice was so gentle it made mingi blush a bit. the two of you snacked on your treats in silence when mingi accidentally brushed against his cup, sending the drink flying all across the table - ruining your work. "oh..oh my god, i'm so sorry, i-," you interrupted mingi when you rushed to the kitchen, coming back into the living room with paper towels in hand. "y/n, i'm so sorry, i'll rewrite everything i promise, don't-," mingi abruptly stopped his rambling when he felt your hand on his shoulder, a kind smile on your face. "mingi, don't worry about it. it's no big deal, so don't beat yourself up about it, yeah?" how could you be so lovely? mingi didn't know if he should cry or laugh, your kindness catching him off guard once again. he just ruined hours of work, and you're as calm and gentle as ever.

mingi promised himself that he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of you again. the memories of last time kept swirling around his mind while he was on his way to your house, making him cringe inside. while he was walking down the street, he noticed a small flower shop and stopped dead in his tracks. should he get you flowers? you didn't say that it was a date, but it really feels like one. what if you don't think of it as a date, though? he would look like a total creep turning up with flowers. mingi was unsure and kept going back and forth, settling for a small bouquet of flowers. incase you got weirded out he was absolutely prepared to backtrack and play the bouquet off as a late apology for the last time he came around.

when you opened the door for him, mingi had to keep himself from letting out a small gasp - you looked so pretty, heart melting at your excited smile. he just stared at you, only snapping out of his admiring state when you cleared your throat, looking at him with raised eyebrows and a small, confused smile playing on your lips. "oh! uhm, i-i brought you flowers," he held out the bouquet to you, your eyes sparking when you took them from him. "thank you mingi, so much," you said with excitement in your voice, looking at him with the prettiest smile he's ever seen. leading him inside you beeline for the kitchen, mingi following close behind you.

"i prepared a few different recipes, so i’ll just let you choose. we could make some apple pie bites, strawberry cheesecake, a peach crumble-" your rambling was incredibly endearing to him,  a content smile playing on his face. he wasn't really listening anymore, he'd be happy with anything if it was made by you. and making it with you together? there's nothing more he could ask for. "mingi?" he blinked a few times, looking at you. you were looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. "i'm fine with anything, really," he tried his best to make his voice sound confident. you smiled and went to the refrigerator to get the ingredients. "let's make some dark chocolate cookies with some orange then, alright?". mingi just nods, watching you place multiple different components on the counter. "y/n, i have to be honest...i can't really bake? or even cook, for that matter," his voice dragged a bit at the end. you turned to him, shrugging a bit, "it's fine, don't worry about it. im here to teach you, aren't i?" there was a certain playfulness in your voice made a small grin creep its way onto his face. he was enjoying this laid back atmosphere a lot, his earlier panic and anxiety forgotten entirely.

mingi doesn't really know how it happened. approximately one hour later you were both covered with flour from head to toe, chocolate splatters all over the kitchen and breathless giggles sounding throughout the room. it all started out normal with you explaining the different steps of the recipe to mingi while he was listening intently. at some point he accidentally knocked over the bag of flour, thoroughly dusting you in the white powder. he expected you to go and clean yourself, maybe even make his heart flutter by being an absolute angel again. what he didn't expect was for you to grab a handful of the flour that was spread on the counter, throwing it in his face with small giggles pouring out of you. he was dumbfounded and stared at you, letting out an airy chuckle in disbelief. using his stiffness to your advantage you scoop up some more flour, ruffling his hair. "oh, it's on!" he exclaimed eagerly, dipping his finger into the melted chocolate and smearing it over your cheek. you yelped and jumped back, trying to dodge his chocolate-covered fingers; to no avail. your small food fight lasts for all of 20 minutes, both of you giggling out of breath.

"guess we won't be making cookies today, huh?" mingi's voice was teasing, making you burst out in laughter. "yeah, seems like it. this was more fun than actually baking anyways," you chuckled while wiping some of the flour-chocolate mixture off your cheek. mingi stared at you with a radiant smile on his face, making a small blush creep onto your cheeks. "what is it?" you giggled a bit, looking at him with curious eyes. mingi knew that this was his chance.

"can i kiss you?" his voice was soft, barely above a whisper and it took you a second to confirm that you heard him right. your heart was pounding, and you couldn't keep the shy smile from forming on your lips. too shy to answer him verbally you just nodded, stepping a bit closer to him. delicately taking your face into his hands, he looks into your eyes, and he feels his heart swell at the adoration swimming in your pupils. he was such an idiot for waiting this long, but now he finally has you. your eyes flutter shut as he gets closer and you can feel your heart jump when his lips touch yours. his lips taste a bit of chocolate, making the kiss even sweeter than it already was. he looks at you with so much affection when he pulls back and smiles down at you. growing shy under his gaze, you lower your face, eyes set on the floor. his gentle fingers lift up your chin, and before you can react, his lips are on yours again. breaking the kiss, he slings his arms around your waist, noses touching when he gently whispers to you, "i like you, y/n. so much." you blush again, a shy smile on your face as you look up at him. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him a bit closer, lips almost touching, "i like you too, mingi.". you press another soft kiss to his lips, and you can feel him smiling, his arms wrapping themselves tighter around you to pull you even closer.

mingi loves sweets, but there is nothing as sweet as your love.

[derireo]

Wilting Lotus / CH. 5.1

The Two Fools

Omi and Izumi explore her abandoned apartment.

He decides to destroy a couple of things during the visit. Just for kicks.

「 Read on AO3 here 」 「 4.0k words 」

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

"So they decided to shut it down because..?"

Izumi was staring up at the place that she used to call her apartment, but it was obvious that no one lived here anymore. The front lawn where a large sign used to sit was now overrun with weeds while the walls of the building looked like they were being swallowed up by invasive creeper plants. Omi's arm was still comfortably wrapped around her shoulders as they stayed put on the sidewalk, her head resting against his shoulder as she analysed the graffiti that ran along the walls.

The sound of Omi's tongue clicking was the only response Izumi was going to get given how silent the man was the rest of their way here. The lack of cooperation made her sigh in resignation and she decided not to ask anymore questions unless they were actually important. For the time being at least.

She just had to guess that Sakyo and Itaru didn't want this building anymore because she didn't live there anymore. Her conjecture probably wasn't that far off anyways.

Flinging Omi's arm from her shoulders, Izumi readjusted her outfit as she made her way inside the abandoned building, the toes of her boots kicking away the stray pebbles that rest on the ground.

The man who accompanied her pursed his lips at the sudden loss of warmth, but silently crinkled his nose as he reminded himself that she had just very rudely pushed him away. Slinging her bag over his shoulder, Omi's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he followed right behind the wandering woman, his temper still pleasantly mellow.

"Ugh, stairs." Izumi moaned sadly when pressing the button to the elevator didn't work, hitting her head against the metal doors.

It wasn't too far, but she lived on the third floor.

Omi, irked by how fast she had given up already, offered his services.

"I can give you a ride," he started, "but it's gonna cost ya."

And as much as the offer was tempting, Izumi grimaced at the word 'cost' and shook her head with a barely friendly chuckle, her eyes totally not glaring up at Omi as they smiled at him. His own gaze was indifferent at the expression on her face, but the corner of his mouth curved upwards when he saw how annoyed she seemed to be.

"No thanks, Sweetheart. I"ll manage." Mocking him with the nickname Sakyo usually called her, Izumi briefly poked her tongue out at Omi. Her little feet immediately carried her in the direction of the stairs before the tall man could react and grab her or something, and she tried to keep her giggles quiet when the sound of his footsteps followed after her own.

Their shadows danced along the length of the walls as the old wood beneath their feet creaked under the weight of their bodies. The sound of wandering mice and other critters tapping along the floors and ceiling covered up the tired breaths of Izumi as Omi casually trailed behind her, eyes fixated on the strain of her calves.

But as strong as she was, her endurance fucking sucked.

"I'll carry you. Free o' charge."

"Oh thank fuck." Izumi sobbed at the new offer, her body twisting around once they finished the first flight of stairs. At this point, her knees felt weak and she was about to die from exhaustion so Omi saying he'd carry her was like a dream come true; she honestly didn't think her short legs were gonna make it.

With arms held wide open, Izumi waited to be lifted onto his shoulder again, only to be startled by the feeling of already familiar hands gripping onto her waist and hoisting her up into the air.

Her reflexes were barely fast enough when latching onto the man, her legs tightly curled around his waist while her arms looped around his neck as Omi made no other effort to hold onto her himself, his hands reaching out to grab the handrails so that they wouldn't fall down the stairs.

"I can definitely tell that you wouldn't care if I died." Izumi sighed, wistful almost. As much as she found herself physically attracted to this man she was touching, his personality was nearing the line of a total deal breaker.

Omi found it easy to agree with her statement as he focused on getting the both of them to the floor that Izumi used to live on, the pace of his breathing barely changing.

The silence he left Izumi in annoyed her to no end; having been so used to Itaru's ramblings and Sakyo's never ending sighing or growling. She also didn't want to admit that she enjoyed being spoiled with attention, but with Omi's indifference, and maybe even dislike, towards her, she was definitely weighing the pros and cons on throwing a little tantrum.

But no. She shook her head, much to Omi's agitation. She had to keep her cool. Losing her temper with Omi like this was obviously going to put her in a tight situation, and she wasn't willing to die by this fucker's hands.

"Frowning isn't a cute look on you." She said offhandedly, already getting bored having to stay quiet with her emotions while her chin hooked over his shoulder, the side of her head leaning against his just to make him a little more annoyed.

At this point, Omi wasn't planning on opening his mouth to shoot her with a retort. Izumi would probably hit him back with something even meaner to say, and then they would have to do a back and forth to see whose feelings would get hurt first.

And nobody really had time for that; plus, Omi just wanted this girl off.

"Here. Get down." The man heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the large number '3' on the wall at the top of the stairs and went to pry off the clingy monster from his body.

Izumi tutted when her feet met the floor, but didn't say anything else to Omi who was trying to brush off any dust or dirt she brought upon him (rude!) and opened the broken fire exit door that would lead them to the hallway where her home was. The circuit breaker was undoubtedly shut off from all those years ago so the only source of light was the sun rays coming in from the end of the hallway.

The silence that resided in the place that Izumi once called her home made it slightly eerie, but she willed herself not to be perturbed and started to venture down to find the door to her apartment room.

"Ugh.. It's so cold. I kinda wish they left the electricity on." Rubbing her hands against her arms, Izumi stopped in front of a door that had one of the numbers hanging off. Her lips pouted when she saw the broken door frame and the cracked door itself; probably in this condition due to her never giving Sakyo and Itaru the key before she left.

She nudged the door open with her foot and held onto her arms as she walked in to the near empty home, just a few things like her ratty old couch and a few wooden chairs left askew in the living room. And she didn't notice then, but it seemed like the table in Itaru's 'office' was actually her coffee table.

Reduce, reuse, recycle, huh?

"Should blame yourself for wearin' that outfit you got goin' on." Omi said as he ventured to her kitchen where a leaky faucet remained along with a few broken dishes left abandoned in the sink. If anything, Omi would have offered his jacket to her if she asked, but she didn't. So. That's kind of on her.

"I'll kill you." Her voice travelled from an area of the place that was probably her bedroom, and the empty threat left Omi chuckling to himself as he brushed his hand along a cracked cupboard, fingers catching onto the handle that would let him open the tiny cabinet. The man grimaced when the collected dust flew in front of his face and he waved it away with his free hand as he examined whatever was inside.

The cupboard mostly housed a unique array of shot glasses, showing how much of an alcoholic the girl was in the past, along with a small arrangement of porcelain plates and one single kiddie bowl.

A small wave of repulsion went through Omi when he took a closer look at a mug that caught his attention though, a curious hand reaching out to properly examine what was on the ceramic.

It was a personalised mug that seemed to have a not so hot picture of Izumi with her former boyfriend on it, their arms wrapped around each other.

With one of the worst choices of font, Papyrus, was a sentence that ran around the image.

I hope only love and happiness meet us hand-in-hand in the future.. Guo Dian.

Happy Graduation, Izumi.

This? In Papyrus? Out of all fonts? Omi didn't major in anything let alone graphic design, but just looking at this abomination told him that this bullshit was hideous as fuck. He was going to have to do something about this.

"Yo, Izumi-san." He called out.

"En..?" Poking her head from a doorway, the girl's eyes squinted at Omi who had the mug casually hanging from a long finger, eyebrows scrunched him as she tried to see what it was he was trying to tell her through his vague gestures. She only realised what he was holding in his hand when she remembered that there was only one or two mugs she owned as a new adult, and the only one that had a picture on it was the present that Guo Dian gave her on her convocation day.

"You ever tell 'im this the ugliest shit ya ever seen?"

"Uh.. I thought it was kinda cute at the time.." She trailed off, slightly embarrassed. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing to look at, but it's the thought that counts, right? Izumi treasured it for many years after receiving it, but she totally forgot about it once she left to go overseas. She didn't use it much anyways, considering how worn down and scratched all of her shot glasses were while the mug looked like it had been barely touched.

"Right, well," with an easy but powerful flick of his wrist, Omi lobbed the ceramic mug across the short length of the living room, leaving it to fly far enough to hit and smash the rest of an already broken window that lead to the outside of the building, "you thought wrong."

Wincing at the sound of the crash of the window and then the smash of the mug landing on concrete, Izumi quickly frowned at Omi before disappearing to her bedroom again to go back to doing what she was doing before he interrupted her. Whatever. She didn't like that mug anyways.

The lack of reaction was kind of disappointing to Omi, but he decided not to push her any further just in case the kitty actually had claws, using the leaking faucet to wash away any of the dust that managed to stick to his fingers as his nose wrinkled at the memory of initially witnessing the tragedy that was Izumi's only graduation present.

If it were him, he would have dumped his partner right then and there.

"Ugh.. Omi-san?" It was Izumi's turn to call out for him, not that it mattered to the man but he perked up at the helpless tone in her voice, already making the short trek to her bedroom before she could tell him what she needed help with.

She was surprised to see Omi standing in the doorway when she was going to walk out and drag him from the kitchen, but smiled gratefully when he was in her sights, hands shoved into his pockets.

"You good?" Eyeing the piece of plywood that Izumi was holding onto, Omi pursed his lips and took a single step forward to see how she was managing. The plywood looked a bit new, and considering that Sakyo and Itaru had been here once before told him that they were the ones who installed it.

They said they were having trouble opening something a while back, so it must have been something valuable hence the plywood screwed shut over the huge ass hole they made in the wall.

"Obviously not." Izumi grunted, fingers sore from pulling at the barrier for so long. "There was literally no reason for this."

Awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, Omi continued to watch the girl struggle. Was she going to ask him to lend a hand or..?

"Please help me." She whined, removing her hands from the small crevice that helped her pull at the industrial wood. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and cutely placed soothing kisses to the parts that would undoubtedly bruise later, causing Omi's mouth to twist in disgust at the adorable display.

"Hm. Thought you were never gonna ask, Sweetheart." He smiled sarcastically to which Izumi reacted the same, both of them glaring at each other as Omi shrugged off his black denim jacket and tossed it to Izumi who hardly reacted fast enough to catch it. No one else would have put it past Omi to ignore the girl until she asked for assistance since he liked watching others struggle, but there was something about Izumi that made it all the more fun.

He had just met her today, and not that he'd admit it, but he was kind of enjoying himself right now.

"Hold it or wear it, don't care. An' quit lookin' at me like that." Omi sighed as Izumi crinkled her nose, the weight of his jacket making it difficult for her to hold in both hands. A slight grumble came from the girl once the man had turned away from her to pull a tactical switchblade from his back pocket, the matte carbon fibre attracting her attention.

Her eyebrows lifted, impressed by the slick blade, and took a step back to let Omi do whatever he was planning to do, arms casually slipping through the sleeves of his large jacket to keep herself warm. "You gonna somehow cut through the plywood with that?" She inquired while sitting down on her old bed, the sound of the creaking springs causing her to grimace and readjust her position on the hard mattress.

The half-hearted joke made Omi want to hit his head against the wall, but he didn't, instead bending to his knees to get a better look at the screws that were still managing to hold on. "I ain't that strong." He rolled his eyes to himself, hooking the blade into the divot of the first screw to get it loose and then worked on the next one in the other corner to get the top half disconnected from the wall. He worked quickly so that he wouldn't waste any more of their time, and without touching the other screws at the bottom dug his hand between the plywood and the wall to manually force it off.

The sound of wood splitting caused Izumi to stop zoning out, her body jolting at the sudden break.

"Yeah.." She grimaced again, seeing how the poor wood lay at his feet. "Not that strong.. I agree.."

Izumi sighed once she saw the huge hole that hid away the safe she only opened once, the dents in the metal clear as day to both her and Omi. Sakyo and Itaru could have done a better job at trying to open the safe, right? It was just a simple 4-digit code, but it looked like they couldn't even figure it out. There were a few scratches on some of the numbers that told Izumi that they focused on those, but they missed the mark.

They didn't get a single number right.

"The code was 3825.." Izumi mourned as she quickly went to kneel in front of the safe to drag her fingers along the dimples in the metal, not yet touching the keypad. Omi's eyebrows creased as he watched how her small hands poked out from the long sleeves of his jacket and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing why she would assume anyone would figure that out by themselves with no sort of clue from the owner.

"3825 for 'fuck' when you look at the letters.."  She explained not a second later, and it was at this point that Omi would have honestly preferred if she didn't say anything at all.

The urge to rip his jacket off her body out of anger was strong, but she unlocked the safe before he could make a move. Omi was left having to pretend he was only outstretching his hand to anxiously bite at his nails while Izumi gathered whatever was in the safe, the sigh that left her connecting to how Omi was feeling at this very moment.

"Didn't like 7448?" He muttered to himself when Izumi shuffled away from the safe to close it, the woman standing to her proper height as she turned her head to look at him with an innocent expression, eyes oddly sad for some reason.

"'Shit' wasn't as funny as 'fuck' at the time." She murmured gloomily, thumb brushing over the items that lay in her hand while Omi took a step to take a better look. His face contorted once more into an expression of disgust when he saw another photo of Izumi and Guo Dian together, along with a pair of amber kanzashi hair combs and a simple, black titanium ring.

"Top tier humour." He said, snatching away the photo that rest in her palm. The protest against him went ignored as Omi rummaged around in his pocket for something, his tongue poking out just the slightest bit as he dug deep to conjure a single match kept safe in a small plastic baggie from his trousers. "We're burnin' this shit."

"No! I look cute in that photo!" Izumi shot a hand out to try and reach for the picture that Omi took from her, but the man only held it above his head with a petulant frown, nose scrunched that she would even bother to try and save this forsaken piece of chemically sensitised paper.

The agitation was clear on Omi's face when Izumi's hand made contact with his chest as she tried to get closer to the photo, straining herself on her toes to at least brush her fingers along the edge of the item while her body leaned into him. Her struggle was genuine as she wheezed out a childish whine, but was quickly silenced when Omi's hand came down to roughly pat her cheek, an arm tucking around her waist to bring her back to the flat of her feet.

"I'll cut his half off then we burn it." He offered then pushed away the girl from him to keep their distance, brushing off the imaginary dust that she brought upon him. "Want you to explain why those are important though." He pointed at the traditional hair ornament and the ring being held tight in Izumi's hand. The amber resin glowed bright despite the dim lighting in the bedroom, and the ring glimmered just the slightest when the light from the window hit it as Izumi examined the accessories herself, lips pouted.

"I just told Itaru and Sakyo that these meant a lot to me," she sighed, not noticing Omi brandishing his switchblade again, "they're making it seem like they hold a different meaning though. I don't quite get it."

The smooth sound of his blade slicing through the photo made Izumi fall back into reality and she pressed her lips in a thin line when she noticed how he narrowly missed cutting her whole arm from the rest of the picture. She didn't say anything, but Omi knew how unimpressed she was with him when she put her hands on her hips; looking awfully cute (not his words) with how his denim jacket dwarfed her.

"Any special markings on 'em?" He murmured as he plucked the match he had from its baggie, taking a single step closer to the girl to reach out with the tiny thing. Before Izumi could react, Omi's wrist flicked in her direction to strike the match against his jacket that she still wore, a brief spark flying before the head lit up into a flame.

The action made her flinch in surprise, momentarily forgetting what his question was as her eyes darted back and forth between her sleeve and the match with widened eyes.

"H-How.."

"Cap gun powder, water, nail varnish." He didn't let her finish as he brought the match to Guo Dian's half of the photo, casually letting it burn in one hand as he motioned for Izumi with the other, telling her to hurry up and answer his question. The old scars on her body ached when her gaze didn't move from the flickering match and the melting picture, but willed herself to break away from the bright flame to avert her attention to the simple ring that Guo Dian had given to her as another present.

"Er.. Ah! There's a lotus emblem inside the ring.." She gasped in surprise, noticing the thin engraving that was touched up with gold. She then flipped the kanzashi combs in hands to see another set of lotus emblems in the top left corners, the black paint protected by a smooth coating of some type of varnish.

A deep intake of breath was heard coming from Omi as he finally dropped the ruined photo of Guo Dian along with the match, casually stepping on the flame with his white shoe to extinguish it before it could catch fire onto any of the rubble that was around. Stepping away, his foot revealed the burnt to a crisp sensitised paper and the dead match in the spot where the ex boyfriend's head used to be.

"'Kay. Good to know. We're done 'ere." The man mumbled as he tucked Izumi's half of the photo in his jacket pocket for the girl to hold onto, wrapping his large hand around the crook of Izumi's elbow to begin pulling her out the bedroom without giving her any time to look at anything else. "Let's go."

"Hey!" Izumi complained, unable to use any strength against Omi to make release her. She tried digging her heels into the floor to make the man let up, but Omi wasn't having it and pulled on her arm to make her stumble forward until she crashed into his side. Izumi groaned in agitation as her nose dug itself into his rib cage, but Omi was left unaffected, his arm moving to go back around her shoulders to escort her out of the abandoned apartment room.

"Can we at least go eat some food before we go back?" She put away the kanzashi in the same pocket Omi put her photo in and wore the black ring on her middle finger, squinting up at the man who was leading her down the hallway and towards the stairwell. "I didn't get to before I visited the office."

He shot a quick glance her way only for him to revert his gaze to the flight of stairs they were going to have to go back down, and made a move to grab Izumi firmly by the waist, hoisting her up into the air for a bridal carry, only to hear her complain again.

He was not going to let her slow them down by going into a corner to heave and catch her breath again. She went limp in Omi's arms just to spite him and make things harder, but his simple answer of 'no' made her shoot up to punch him in the shoulder.

"You're the worst."

[princebugs]

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

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

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

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

ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

[mythicamagic]

Picture Frames - Hatori x Tohru Oneshot

Hatori is stranded at the Sohma estate during a blizzard. To his surprise, Tohru stumbles into his solitude, and the two awkwardly try to place their feelings about the other while waiting out the storm. Hatori’s self-imposed isolation won’t be easily shattered, but Tohru’s smile has been known to melt snow.

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, Fluff (many many tropes be in this fic, take a shot for each one)

Rated T

Made for @frost-guardian - hope you enjoy bud!

Post-curse fic 

Word Count: 7,000 (as always you can read this on ao3 or fanfiction.net via the same username)

Picture Frames ~

It was snowing again.

The soft breeze spun the flakes into flurries of white confetti. They fell and landed in silence, a strange stillness lingering in the air, as it always did when it snowed. Hatori observed the fall from his porch, hands buried in his pockets. He stood lost in thought, allowing melancholy nostalgia to settle over him. Usually he wasn’t so generous with his time, but the worsening snow was so deep the authorities had issued a warning for people not to leave their homes. So Hatori found himself in the strange position of not being able to make house calls. Which meant no work needed to be done.

That never happened.

At a loss of what to do, he was reminded of why he’d become a workaholic in the first place. It starved off painful memories.

Taking out a cigarette and lighting it, he mulled over calling Ayame or Shigure. Which was also strange and never happened. They always rang him first, Ayame to gossip nonsense or Shigure to wryly observe some latest mischief he’d made. Taking a drag, Hatori padded inside and exhaled slowly, dialling for Ayame.

‘Due to the poor weather conditions, we cannot connect your call at this time. Please try again later.’

Ah, that explained things. Even Akito wasn’t around to send for him. The entire Sohma estate lay empty, with him the sole occupant. Everyone else was busy enjoying their time off for the holidays and he’d been so caught up in work he’d ignored the weather warnings. The open doors shuddered, the wood starting to rattle against the bellow of new, harsher gusts of wind. Pulling them shut, Hatori frowned to himself, sighing. Good thing he had a heater or the room would be freezing.

Tired eyes slanted towards the single bed in the corner of the room longingly. Maybe…he could just sleep for a little while? Uninterrupted rest was rare, he should make use of it. Hatori took a step towards it before catching sight of his desk. Kana’s picture frame stood empty now, but something about it still made his mouth thin. He looked at the filing cabinet instead. That’s right. He needed to check over some prescriptions first before sleeping.

He could always rest later.

Not like he’d been up for 48 hours already.

Hatori let the cigarette hang loosely from his mouth, sitting down and pulling open the cabinet. He thumbed through it, fingers lingering on the letter ’T’ just as his door suddenly flung open.

Brunnet hair and blue ribbons caught his eye first. Her wild pants and red face suddenly registered, sending his heart skittering.

“Hah- hah- whew!” Tohru panted, struggling to close the door against the gusts of wind. “It’s crazy out there!”

A pale hand pushed the door shut above her head. Tohru blinked snowflakes from her lashes, looking up at the doctor.

“Miss Honda. How-” his mouth clicked shut, good eye slightly wide. “Why were you out in the storm? Didn’t you hear the news?”

“Hm? Oh no, I haven’t heard anything. I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this, I’m sure it’s an inconvenience.” She fussed, lingering by the door and not moving to take off her snow drenched coat. White flakes sprinkled her shoulders, nose, even the top of her head. Tohru gave a worried smile, hands moving animatedly in the air. “I did notice it had started to snow while at work, a-and some of the staff decided to wait out the weather there. But I thought it’d be over pretty quick. Next thing I know it’s like a blizzard, but oh- I’m sure you’re busy with work,” she babbled.

Hatori noticed their proximity and leaned away, wondering if he made her nervous. He took a drag from his cigarette, letting her ramble until a few certain words caught his attention.

“No, you’re not going out again.” His quiet gaze settled on her, tone dropping.

Tohru blinked, putting her bag down and holding her gloveless hands. He noticed they were red, fingers no doubt stiff. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Please do,” he muttered flatly, offering his hand to take her coat. “Work isn’t exactly keeping my focus right now.”

“Well then,” she smiled hesitantly at first, before beaming outright. “I’m happy to be your distraction.”

His heart did another funny thing in his chest. Hatori firmly folded it away just as he hung her coat on the rack over the heater. Tohru rubbed her hands and sighed with relief as she unwound her pink scarf from her neck. Hatori offered his hand again, setting it aside.

“That’s better,” she chirped, dusting some melted snow off her. “I couldn’t get through to anyone on the phone, so when I passed by the Sohma estate, I wondered if it would be alright to use yours.”

“There’s not much point. The phone lines aren’t working.”

Tohru paused, “oh.” She deflated a little, and he regretted being so blunt. Unfortunately, that was just in his nature. He blinked when she smiled anyway, “that’s okay. The electricity still seems to be working,” she gestured to his lamp. “Would you like some tea? Or I can cook something if you’d prefer.”

The former dragon zodiac stared. He then swallowed, removing his cigarette from his lips and snuffing it out on an ashtray. He could hear Shigure now, simpering about 'sweet little Tohru’ and her kind ways. She always threw him. Because while he listened to Shigure and sometimes Ayame drone on about her latest feat, he never expected her kindness to extend to him.

But she always offered it freely, and so easily. He hadn’t gotten used to it despite knowing her for years now. “Tea would be…nice,” he uttered, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

Tohru smiled and wandered to the kettle, kneeling to open the cupboard and take out some mugs. Her actions were thoughtless- like she spent many hours there with him. Hatori sat at his desk, running a hand through his heavy bangs. He supposed she did visit sometimes, usually with an entourage of their strange, colourful friends.

Tohru padded back when she was done, placing his mug down on his desk, only to wince and move it onto a coaster. Hatori rose a brow, glancing at the water rings on the wood. It wasn’t like he would ever yell at her, let alone over something so simple.

Thanking her again, he took a good measure of comfort from wrapping his hand loosely around it. He watched the steam rise from the cup and attempted to make casual conversation.

“How has your health been?”

Damn it.

Tohru took a seat on a cushion by the low table. Hatori averted his gaze as she blew softly on the steam from her cup, nursing it close. “I’ve been wonderful. No worries here, what about you?”

His good eye slid back to her, as though unable to do anything else. People tended to forget to ask doctors that. “Yes, much the same.”

She tilted her head, gesturing to the space under her eye. “But you have bags under your eyes. Are you sure you’ve not been pushing yourself too hard? I suppose you must have a busy schedule in winter, lots of colds. Please remember to rest.” Tohru seemed to notice how prying her words could come across and opened her mouth to apologise-

“Pot kettle black,” he muttered, cutting her off.

Tohru blinked, tilting her head. “Um, do you want…black coffee instead?” She made a weak guess.

A huff of amusement escaped him. “No, I’m referring to your own dark circles. You should take your own advice and 'please remember to rest’.” Hatori quipped, lips curling up at the edges.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she drew her knees up, hands curling in the thin material of her black tights. Hatori noticed her legs shaking slightly.

“I-I have been resting, honest. You’re starting to sound like Yuki and Kyo,” she smiled, eyes widening when he stood and grabbed a nearby blanket, tossing it over her legs. Pale hands settled on the tops of her knees as he leaned down slightly over her.

Black hair slid forward, exposing one sightless eye. “Do you also lie to them to assuage their worry?”

Tohru’s eyes widened, gaze fixed on his. She then bit her lip and smiled coyishly, “pot kettle black.”

He inhaled, lips tilting up while he straightened. “Touché.”

This wasn’t flirting, right? He’d never been good at it so he hoped this was simple banter. Because he was not flirting with a woman 12 years his junior. He had firmly filed that particular thought into a cabinet known as - never to be reflected upon. Even when she’d graduated and grown into a young lady of 19, he assured himself that he'd never open the cabinet.

“I really like that tie,” Tohru changed the topic of conversation, looking at him over the rim of her mug. “It looks very nice on you.”

He cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. Again, not flirting but an innocent compliment. He touched it uncertainly. A gift from Aya.

“A biased opinion. Isn’t pink your favourite colour?” Hatori muttered, retreating to the safety of his seat. Her smile froze on her face, before she busied herself with sipping her tea, the steam causing her cheeks to grow redder.

An awkward silence descended upon them, and Hatori cursed his social skills. They hadn’t been…alone together for a very long time. Usually their louder friends were filling the silences. Why couldn’t he have just accepted the compliment?

“How did you know that?”

Oh. That’s what was bothering her. Hatori shrugged, “you mentioned it once.”

And he’d remembered.

Tohru smiled slightly, before shivering and rubbing her legs over the blanket. Hatori noticed and leaned forward, angling the heater near his desk more toward her. Tohru made a face and pulled the cushion closer to him so that they were sharing the heat. Hatori’s lips tilted up slightly. She was stubborn in some ways.

“I wonder how long the blizzard will last for,” she mused aloud.

Hatori lifted a shoulder, resting his chin on his knuckles. “The news said at least a day. Unfortunately, it looks as though you’re stuck with me for company, miss Honda.”

Tohru jolted and shook her head violently, ribbons ruffling in her hair. “N-no! That’s- I mean, you’re wonderful! Please don’t say that, and you really can call me Tohru you know,” she said, standing suddenly. “We just need to take our minds off the snow and how people are probably worried about us! Do you um…have any board games?”

Hatori stared at her, blinking slowly.

“Let’s see, one, two- six. I scored six!” Tohru chirped, leaning over the scrabble board. It was the Western version, something Momiji had brought over, but luckily the two were proficient in English. They’d played a number of games for a few hours, punctuated by idle chatter, before landing on this one as their favourite. Tohru didn’t have the strategic eye for chess and Hatori didn’t possess the same enthusiasm for 'Old Maid.’

Hatori walked over, carrying yet more tea. He placed the tray down and rose a brow, looking at the word. “Dragon, hm,” he took his place opposite her at the low table, wondering why he could feel a slight chill in the room. “You know you could have scored higher by utilising this triple letter score,” he tapped his figure on the blue square.

“Yes but then I wouldn’t have been able to spell Dragon!” She giggled, obviously more pleased by the word than winning the game.

He rose a brow, feeling a warmth in his stomach. Her enthusiasm for pointless things appeared to be infectious. Glancing at the letters on his side, his lips curved up. Taking hold of an 'i’ he placed it under her 'r’ and began completing his own word. Sitting back, he looked at it with quiet satisfaction.

Tohru tilted her head, blushing slightly. “Rice ball…hmm, isn’t that two words, Doctor?” She said playfully.

He blinked and checked it again, his own cheeks dusting with heat at the mistake. “…I suppose. Hm, should have gone with onigiri.”

She let out a carefree laugh that sounded like the personification of sunshine. At that moment, the orange light of the heater that had been casting orange hues onto her face made a distressed noise. It then abruptly shut off. Hatori frowned, shifting the rack away to fiddle with it.

“Oh no, is it broken?”

Hatori turned off the power and removed the back, fiddling with it. “No need to panic, it’s probably just a faulty-” he broke off a wire. The heater probably needed that. He calmly returned the broken piece to its place. “…Yes, it may be broken.” Funny how his hands could be so careful when treating patients and yet he had an allergy to tinkering with electronics.

Tohru’s brows drew together when the room started to grow colder. The Sohma house was old-fashioned, with no radiators in sight. She sat up, holding her arms, “okay, um. We need a battle plan! This is fine, my mom couldn’t always pay for the gas bill and we made do!”

Her hands balled into fists, face determined. Hatori straightened, noticing her shiver. He hummed, removing his white doctor’s coat and placing it around her shoulders, touch lingering. They felt much too thin and small under his hands. “Extra blankets are a must, I’ll take care of finding those.”

She smiled bashfully and nodded, “mhm! And I’ll see if you’ve got any electric ones! Or candles. I’ve also got a bento box leftover from work that we can share. Keeping well fed is integral for fighting the cold!” She nodded sagely.

Dark hair slid forward as he leaned down, tugging on one of her ribbons lightly. “You didn’t eat earlier? Miss Honda…am I going to have to strictly monitor your health?” The calm tone dropped once more, ice leaking into his words. And yet, vague worry lingered around his perpetually melancholy eyes.

Reaching up to fix her ribbon, Tohru slid her arms into the sleeves of his coat, which slipped past her hands. “There’s no need to worry~ I promise! Now, let’s begin operation: Fight the cold!” She quickly turned with yet another curiously red face. Hatori wondered if she were coming down with something.

Something foreign heated his veins though when she padded away, the coat swaying out behind her like a cape due to it’s size. Her long shapely legs were visible for a moment under the billow of white- and his breath caught.

Hatori quickly adjusted his tie. No, put that thought away damn it. Just because she looked like a woman didn’t mean Tohru deserved to be disrespected by his unwanted attention. He quickly strode into a new room, opening the cupboards and bringing out all the blankets he could find, loading them into his arms. Now if Shigure were here, or- Hatori shuddered- in his place. Alone. With Tohru. The former dog could not be trusted not to cause a scandal. But Hatori Sohma, lonely and admiring of Tohru though he was- never caused scandal. He was the straight-laced doctor, a man of discipline, routine.

Besides even if there wasn’t an age gap and even if in some mad parallel universe Tohru returned his affections-

Hatori shook his head, returning to the room and glancing at the empty picture frame. He couldn’t do it, not again. He needed to stop thinking about ridiculous things.

He’d vowed never to hurt another person ever again.

Tohru came padding in, holding a tub of various sized candles but sadly no electric blanket. She smiled amiably at him, before pausing. “Hatori…what’s wrong?”

Lean muscles froze. He placed the blankets down, straightening slowly. Fishing in his pocket, he brought out a lighter and offered it. “Nothing, here. Just don’t burn yourself,” he muttered.

Cold fingers closed around his own, gentle and soft. His lips thinned.

“I-I’m not that accident-prone,” she lightly teased, giving a smile. It fell on her face a little when he didn’t respond. Accepting the lighter, she turned and with his help, began arranging the candles around their make-shift nest of comforts. They didn’t provide much of a heat source, Hatori wryly observed. If anything, they were more of a fire hazard.

Tohru concentrated on lighting the wicks, glancing up at him every so often. Hatori pulled out a spare futon to spread beneath them, sitting on it as he worked on making their surroundings as comfy as possible, spreading blankets everywhere like a fort. He didn’t own a kotatsu, much to Tohru’s dismay. Once they were done, Tohru brought out her bento box, grabbing a spare set of chopsticks and handing them to him.

“Since you haven’t eaten, it would be best if only you-”

“You’re eating too~!” She smiled brightly, to the point that Hatori sweatdropped, backing down. He still had reservations about taking half, but she divided it evenly, placing the box in between them.

Digging in, Hatori quietly appreciated the food, noting the amount of care she’d put into every part. The attention to detail that she afforded every meal. A thought surfaced in his sleep-deprived head- tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“You’ll make a wonderful wife, someday.”

Tohru made a noise, chocking on her food. He winced, mentally kicking himself as he offered her water. She gratefully accepted, chugging it down. “A-ah! Thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say. You’ll make an amazing husband too!” She rambled, also wincing.

His limbs locked, coldness skittering down his spine just as his pulse raced. “…I don’t think that’s something in my future, but thanks,” he quietly admitted.

Tilting her head, Tohru picked up the pickled plum in her chopsticks, putting it on his side. She knew he liked them. “O-oh um…what makes you think that?”

“Experience,” he uttered, placing the plum back on hers. He knew she liked them more.

Her cheeks puffed up indignantly, but on her face, the expression only came across as cute. “W-well for what it’s worth I think you’re wrong. Yuki used to think something similar, but now he has Machi. Then there’s Rin with Haru, a-and Kisa with Hiro. Even Ayame and Mine. I don’t really know what’s happening with Akito and Shigure but if you’re worried about not marrying because of the zodiac then-”

“I know. The curse is broken, and it has been for some time.” Hatori interrupted gently, exhaling. He could really use a cigarette, but he didn’t like exposing her to secondhand smoke. “I’m just of the opinion that it’s…in my personality or fate to be alone. I’ve become used to solitude, there’s no need to fuss over it. I don’t find it uncomfortable.”

Tohru’s brows drew together, and she glanced at the picture frame on his desk. Hatori busied himself with eating, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth once again. He didn’t even know why he was talking about it, but Tohru had that effect on people.

“I understand,” the words escaped her gently, lifting some rice to her lips. He hated that he’d lowered her mood, but upon looking up, he found the girl lost in thought, not upset. She was…different, miss Honda.

When first getting to know her, he’d surmised that she was a lot like Kana, but as time wore on, that thought had faded. His ex-fiance had been beautifully sensitive, like an orchid. She’d filled his days with colour when she’d blossomed. But under strain and heartbreak, her petals wilted. Tohru, for all her naivete, held a deep well of pain within her. It was like no amount of troubles the Sohma curse threw at her would compare with the loss of her mother. She could handle the secret. Hell, she’d broken it.

Drawn out of his musings, he noticed her fingers had turned blue. “Miss Honda,” he muttered, placing his chopsticks down. “Your hands, give them to me.”

Brown eyes blinked, nibbling on the rice. She set her own utensils aside, startled when large hands covered her own. The doctor shifted to sit beside her, holding her palms over a larger candle. Lips thinning with consternation, his slightly calloused hands rubbed her smaller digits.

“H-hator-” she jolted when his head dipped down- exhaling on her hands and continuing to massage her skin with his thumbs. Hatori lowered his head once more, the movement bringing his lips shockingly close to her skin.

“We can’t afford to be polite right now,” he grumbled. “If you’re feeling cold, tell me.”

Tohru swallowed under his intense attention.

“Alright,” she softly agreed, smiling. “You’re so kind, Hatori. It’s no wonder you became a Doctor.”

He hesitated in his touches, before continuing to rub her hands. His eyes stayed fixed on the task, but a slight gentleness warmed his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice in occupation, it was something my father did before me. But…I do enjoy it.”

His muscles tensed when he felt something light tap his cheek just under his good eye. “Still, you should let other people look after you sometimes too. You look like a panda. Ah!- sorry that came out rude. I meant it as a cute thing!”

Hatori rose a brow. Cute?

Tohru reeled, waving her free hand, “a-anyway. Just how long have you been awake for?”

He checked his watch, mulling it over. “About 52 hours,” he said bluntly.

It were as though her spirit had ascended from her body, leaving Torhu with a sucker-punched expression. Hatori reached out and tugged on her bangs almost fondly. “There’s no need to freak out, it’s quite normal in my line of work.”

Still reeling, Tohru snapped herself out of her daze, raising a finger. “That doesn’t make me worry less! A-ahh, and you’ve been staying up to take care of me when you could have been resting! I’m the worst! I am so sorry- here!” She quickly got up, breaking their contact to dash to the bed. She began fluffing a pillow, setting it down. She then tucked a thick blanket over it and gestured to it with the most determined expression she could muster.

“Please rest.”

“No.”

“W-why not?”

He sighed. “For one thing, it’s getting late. You need your sleep more than I do after actually working today, I’ve only been sitting down and sorting notes. You’ve been on your feet and out in the snow. So go ahead, use it.” He gestured to the bed while dousing the meagre amount of candles they’d put out. He then picked up the bento box and carried it to the kitchen. He heard uncertain, worried sounds as Tohru followed, hovering behind him.

“B-but you need it more than me!-”

Hatori turned on the tap water, letting her ramblings wash over him much like whenever Ayame or Shigure started fussing.

“Besides your schedule is busier, and it’s 52 hours, Hatori! 52!”

He calmly washed the utensils and bento box, surprised she wasn’t running out of steam talking a mile a minute. So caught up was he in his musings that Hatori misjudged her proximity. Turning to grab a dish towel- he bumped right into the girl. Hatori reeled, eyes widening as he automatically caught her by the shoulders, heart thudding when he expected to transform. To become small, fragile. Something easily stepped on as he fell the great height to the ground.

But nothing happened. He didn’t realise his breathing had escalated until soft palms gingerly touched his cheeks, drawing his startled gaze down to hers.

“It’s okay, Hatori. See? Nothing- nothing happens anymore…” she murmured, seeming to only now realise he hadn’t tested his newfound freedom yet.

Hatori caught his breath, wondering why sweat dotted his temples. He trembled slightly, touching her hand on his face. He hoped he imagined leaning into her touch. “I apologise. I guess it was just a shock…”

She nodded empathetically, gazing up at him. She stroked her thumb over his jaw slightly, before blushing and letting go. “U-um…so- like I was saying,” she murmured, holding her hands as they slowly padded back to his room.

“Fine, look see, I’ll sit down.” He took a seat on the bed, that he admitted was much comfier now that she’d plied it with blankets. Still, this was not enough to assuage her as Tohru placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Okay! Step one is done~ now for step two! Lying down,” she beamed, putting all her strength into trying to force him to lie back. Hatori felt her hands shake and noticed her grunt with effort, but he did not budge. He sighed. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to fall back- head hitting the pillow and scattering his dark hair in disarray.

However, the sudden movement made the girl lose her balance. She landed with a squeak directly atop him.

Hatori stiffened immediately, shifting to get up, “m-miss Honda.”

Tohru seemed to misconstrue his motives to escape- as she placed her palms firmly down on his chest, trying to keep him there. “N-no! You shouldn’t get up! Go to sleep!” She blushed scarlet. “I’ll keep you like this if I have to!”

“I can hardly rest while you’re-” he sucked in a harsh breath when her hips squirmed. Directly against his. His head hit the pillow once more, mind screaming. Alright, so Tohru was essentially straddling him. No big deal. It wasn’t like he could also feel the gentle curves of her body pressing against his, smell her scent of fresh linens dancing in a warm summer breeze- or sense the line of tension in her spine. His hands reluctantly settled on her lower back.

“This isn’t necessary. I’ll sleep if it means that much to you.”

Tohru shifted atop him, tilting her head up where it rested on his chest. Heat surged down his stomach, curling his fingers in the material of her blouse. Suddenly seeming to realise how indecent their positions were, Tohru lifted her upper body, hair frazzled. It hung down to tickle his nose.

“I-I um- okay. Just make sure you rest!” She blushed, moving carefully to try and untangle their limbs. Feeling the warmth leaving his chest, Hatori surprised both her and himself by halting her movements.

His hands had settled on her waist.

Tohru paused, cheeks seemingly incapable of losing their red hue. “H-Hatori?”

Exhaling, violet eyes stared up at her. He quickly grasped a blanket and tossed it around her shoulders, tugging her to lie back down on a mad impulse. “Let’s just…both get some sleep. You’re as bad as me when it comes to watching your health and pushing yourself too hard. I don’t trust you not to stay up.”

Surprising him, she gave a soft, mumbled giggle. “You make us sound so rebellious. Like Black Haru or something.”

The former dragon stared up at the ceiling, his heart thundering quicker at the sound. He was certain she could hear it in his chest. He’d forgotten what it was like to hold another human so close. The alien feeling was dissolving into such a pleasant sensation he feared he’d grow spoiled from it.

“Hatori…this is okay, isn’t it?” Came her small voice.

His hand glided up her back to rest on her head. “Of course. Unless it bothers you.”

“Oh no, not at all,” she murmured, grip tightening in his shirt. He wondered why. “I mean, we’re friends!”

“Yes. Friends.”

Tohru made a noise of quiet affirmation, settling closer. “Goodnight Hatori.”

Hearing her breathing even out, his attention shifted down, glancing at the crown of her head. Brunette strands of hair were sprawled over his chest, some spun into gentle spirals. His pale fingers stroked the soft locks, before clenching and drawing away.

“Goodnight…Tohru.”

Hatori was floating on clouds. Or at least it certainly felt that way. He slept long and deep, breathing in heavenly smells and feeling oddly…safe.

Releasing a dusty sounding breath, his lashes fluttered. Surfacing from sleep slowly, he lifted his head groggily. At once, he noticed their positions had changed. Strands of hair were stuck to his lip, his face inches from Tohru’s neck, where he assumed he’d been resting just a moment ago. Somehow they’d changed positions in the night. He was now laying on his stomach, trapping her more petite form under his. His felt his arms wrapped around her, and more alarmingly- hers around him.

Shifting, Hatori’s face flushed when he felt something. Ah, it seemed her leg had hooked around his in the night too. Fantastic.

Grasping her wrists, Hatori gently untangled her from him, shifting to get up. He braced his hands on either side of her head on the pillow to rise.

Of course, her lashes opened.

“H-hatori,” she breathed, eyes widening. She then smiled shyly, hands grasping the covers tighter. “G-good morning! Did you sleep well?”

Hatori made a noise, quickly moving to rise. He half-heartedly tried to fix his bed-hair, only to give up. “And you?”

“Yes, very well thank you,” she chirped. “It felt very warm.”

He adjusted his tie, wishing he could stop damn blushing. He strode over to his desk, “I’m going to see if the phone’s working.”

“Ah, sure. I guess I’ll start making breakfast then.”

“You don’t have to-” too late, she was already gone.

Hatori dialled for Shigure and lifted the phone to his ear.

'Due to the poor weather conditions, we cannot connect your call at this time. Please try again later.’

Not good. It was only the second day but spending any more time with Tohru alone might make her catch wise to his feelings.

“Hatori!~ Would you like some eggs?”

Then again, it was Tohru. He was quite fortunate she saw everyone around her as strictly friends. Sighing, he tried to fix his expression into a calm mask and joined her in the kitchen.

While they contentedly tucked into their breakfast together, he noticed her pause mid-meal. Finishing a bite, he waited for her to speak up.

“Hatori, remember yesterday when you said you didn’t think you’d get married?”

He made a non-committal noise.

“I-I don’t think it’s in my personality to be alone, maybe I’d make a good wife-”

“You would,” his tone brooked no argument.

“Hmph. Pot kettle black,” Tohru smiled with a hesitant impishness.

Violet eyes danced. “You think I’d make a good wife?”

She gave a laugh, lips tugging up as warmth lit up her expression. She then sobered. “It’s just that…maybe I’m afraid of marriage in a similar way. Afraid of someone being more important to me than my mom. If I got married, then I’m worried they’d take her place in my heart. I don’t like to admit it, because it makes me a bad daughter- but I can’t…picture her face clearly anymore. I have to rely on her photo. I-it’s awful. I’m terrible.”

Something vicious attacked his bloodstream at her put down. “Don’t. Your mother would be proud of you.” His voice became haunting steel, before softening. “For what it’s worth, I’m the same. I can’t clearly recall Kana’s laugh, but I know it was distinct. I can’t see her face, but there’s the recollection of her eyes or how she used to stand that I do know. I’m sorry, she’s not deceased so it’s not the same-”

“No, no. It is- because it’s just as painful. You still…lost her.”

He stopped, that reserved quietness in his bearing softening for her. “Just because we loved them…doesn’t mean we have to be alone to honour them, Tohru.”

She stared, tears collecting in her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll reconsider becoming an old maid?” She sniffed, smiling teasingly while trying to ignore her red nose and wobbling lip.

Hatori’s gaze shifted over her honest features, before returning to his now cold breakfast. “Perhaps. If the right suitor came along.”

It was at that moment the electricity decided to shut off, dousing the room in faint blue tones.

Tohru had let out a yelp and panicked, hands fluttering everywhere. “H-h-hatori! Oh no! If there’s no electricity then we can’t cook dinner!”

“Calm down. We’ll find a way, besides there’s enough food to snack on if this isn’t just a short power cut.”

He heard her get up, but she was on his sightless side- moving closer. “But what if it lasts longer than- GAH!” Something knocked violently against the table, making the plates rattle.

Hatori turned in alarm, hands reaching out and finding her form stumbling. Firm fingers wrapped around her arm, steadying her. He shifted to stand, brows drawing together.

“Tohru? Are you alright?”

The lights flickered, before turning back on. The whole room was bathed in soft hues once more, and the girl exhaled in relief, looking up at him. “O-oh, yes I’m fine. I just tripped.”

“You’re bleeding,” he deadpanned, attention fixed on her torn tights. Her left knee was scrapped, some bruising starting to rise to the surface.

Tohru gaped, peering down. He decided to take it upon himself to pick her up, leaning down to allow her to place her arm around his shoulders as he slid one arm under her legs. He didn’t think of it as some gallant thing, he just couldn’t be bothered to wait as she hopped over to a chair. He placed her down in his desk chair and retrieved some antiseptic, along with a plaster.

Though he knew her to be a grown woman he couldn’t shake the habit of tending to even the most minor of injuries, especially when it came to her. He’d taken the car to Shigure’s house on several occasions when it was reported she had a headache or scrape from a new fall.

Hatori knelt down to grasp her ankle, placing her foot on his thigh to elevate her knee and allow him to see it better. She made a noise, though he wasn’t certain why. His fingers then rubbed the cream onto her wound, and this time he understood the hiss between her teeth.

“The pain will pass…am I being too rough?” He muttered, trying to gentle his touch.

“N-no not at all,” she murmured.

He hummed and placed the plaster over the scrape, smoothing the edges to let it stick. He felt mild satisfaction at such a simple task, ready to move away.

Hatori shifted, raising his head. He froze, finding her closer than anticipated. His breath stilled, eyes widening marginally. She wasn't…pulling away.

Her eyes shone from the light of the nearby candles, giving the brown a brightened earthy glow. Some loose strands of hair hung forward, lingering near his cheek. His nails caught in her tights as his fingers clenched- and he inhaled. He needed to pull away. Needed to stop. But the look on her face remained gentle and inviting. He couldn’t understand why.

Hatori’s heartbeat thundered in his ears like a roaring tide. He leaned forward-just a touch. Just to see. To know. Tohru didn’t scream or pull away. Her cheeks coloured red, mouth parting a touch. Those kind eyes flitted down to his thin lips.

That was what did it. His fingers rose up to her jaw- touch feather light, bridging the last of the distance between them. She inhaled, her lips feeling soft and pliant under his.

Something crashed down his veins and melted inside his stomach. Rapture and longing collided, hurting in an exquisite, visceral kind of way. Suddenly he was more aware than ever of his loneliness, his secret want of her. It caused his hands to tremble.

He felt her hesitant palm on his cheek, smoothing the long dark strands of his bangs aside. When he pulled away, eyes peeling open, he wished for the first time in a long while to have his full sight back. Tohru remained frozen with rosy cheeks, opening her mouth to say something-

Hatori retreated, standing. He walked over to his desk, facing away from her as he collected himself slowly. A fire churned in his gut, emotions pressing tight against the surface. He wanted so badly to embrace her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” she murmured, voice wavering. She was hurt. He could tell.

“Don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for. I took advantage-”

“No, no you didn’t!” She burst, and he heard her stand. “Please don’t turn away…”

His fingers twitched at his hands, hands curling into loose fists that tightened until they shook. “You understand why we can’t do this, Tohru. Aside from the age gap-”

“M-my parents were far apart in age-”

“There’s also my…disposition. My fate,” he said with an air of grim finality.

Despite the curse being broken and the zodiac members free, he still felt fear. He still pictured history repeating itself. That she’d somehow be hurt again just like Kana. Perhaps he should be worried about losing another eye, but Hatori gladly would if it meant keeping her safe.

He heard quiet footsteps approach, and he turned to face her. A guarded look had entered his gaze, haunted with past terrors and agony.

He was afraid. Terrified of hurting her. The empty picture frame stood silent and empty as a grim reminder.

Tears swam in Tohru’s gaze, though he wasn’t sure why. She clasped her hands, perhaps to stop herself from touching him. “You said it before 'we don’t have to be alone to honour them.’ Things are different now…they’re not what they were a few years ago. No one’s going to punish you for being happy, Hatori. Not Akito, and not fate.”

That’s right, God had stepped down.

Looking to the future felt like an insurmountable task considering the past that still clung to his lonely room. Lingering in the backs of his eyes and resurfaced in his waking thoughts.

But then Tohru…

Tohru sometimes felt like she’d present a 'maybe.’ Maybe things wouldn’t go to hell with her. If he were just brave enough to take her hand then-

The sound of the phone ringing filled the room.

'It seems like the worst of the storm has passed. There is no longer a Red Weather Warning in effect, so you’ll all be pleased to know it’s clear to go outside again~ This has been your three o'clock weather report.’

Hatori stood outside on the porch, smoking as the radio droned on. He stared down at the empty picture frame in his hand, lost in memory once more as the snow fell. Tohru was busying herself cleaning, though he’d told her it wasn’t necessary.

Shigure and whoever else would come to take her home. The mischievous dog had been on the phone, cheerfully announcing that Hatsuharu had found a snow plough for who knows where.

No doubt the roads would be cleared soon. His heart constricted at the thought, though nothing touched his expression.

A soft touch had his eyes snapping down to his hand, where Tohru looked up at him. She gently grasped the picture frame, biting her lip, before looking away. She then summoned the courage to speak.

“I might have to go soon, but um…I wanted to say something.”

She paused, and he waited, hanging on the precipice of whatever she chose to do or say.

“Stop me if this is too forward, but I think…it’s time to get a different photo frame for your desk.” Tohru said, voice gentle. “You don’t have to throw this away of course. See it’s like if someone wanted to become extra special to me, I could never- never put their image in mom’s place. She’s important to me, and always will have a large part of my heart.”

Hatori felt it now, the pull toward her. His attention was magnetised, hearing attuned to her voice to pick up every soft inflection. Tohru smiled gently, no jealousy in her. “Just like Kana will always have a large part of yours.”

She took a breath. “But if…there was someone for me, I’d put them in a brand new frame. That way they’re not crumpling themselves to fit someone else’s space. I feel like I understand that a bit better now. Maybe I…don’t need to be afraid of marriage if I think of it like that.”

She really did understand. For a moment he contemplated her. He saw something radiant in her face, a kind of wiseness beyond her years that mingled with her naivete. “I see, eloquently put.” Violet eyes shifted over her slowly. “In that case, would you like to go shopping for photo frames together, Tohru?”

His hand hung loosely at his side near hers, fingers curling.

Her lips tilted up, stretching further into a breathtaking, radiant smile. “Yes! That would be wonderful,” she murmured, expression softening into something more hopeful and quiet. She released her grip on her hands and also let them hang lose, watching the snowfall. Slowly, as though fearful of rejection, she inched her knuckles closer.

Hatori’s gaze shifted down and giving in to the small ray of hope inside him, took her hand outright. He would follow her lead, he decided. She jumped a little and dipped her head shyly, threading their fingers together.

“Hatori…”

“Mn?”

Brunette hair slid over her shoulder, falling in soft waves as she shifted to look up at him. “I don’t think…friends are supposed to feel this way about each other.”

“No, probably not.” He somberly agreed, heart thudding as though he were a schoolboy.

Her brows pulled together slightly, and her hand squeezed his. “What do we do?”

For a long while, he didn’t reply. The snow fell gently, a silent witness to the quiet regard in Hatori’s eye, which was starting to become reserved only for her. “We’ll do this at our own pace. However, I wish you’d reconsider and think about being with a boy more your age.”

Tohru’s comforting eyes sparked with alarm, her mouth opening to perhaps voice an eloquent protest. It then clicked shut, and her heart took the lead in her words instead. “But I only want you, Hatori.”

He exhaled sharply, a fragile thing inside him anchoring itself to the warmth of her palm. He wasn’t sure if the universe would allow him happiness once more, but he trusted Tohru. However naive it was to hope- he wanted to believe in a future with her in it. He felt his body humming with life, the touch of her skin feeling more tangible the more warmth flooded him. Bringing her hand up- he pressed his lips to her knuckles ardently, breath shuddering over her skin.

“Then you have me.”

Outside, the snow slowly began to thaw.

End