#if you’re always comparing my legs to something at least be creative about it

[fruityfroggy]

I’m serving ✨unproductive lump of lard✨ today 🎀

[southerndragontamer]

Egotober Day 13: Mirror

What did it mean to be a mirror of someone? So alike, but so different at the same time. That was the question that ran through Roman’s mind as he sat in bed and sketched out a moment from the DND campaign Thomas was doing with his friend Terrence. It was such a creative game that he couldn’t resist.

His room, or rather their room, the room of Creativity was one that Thomas hadn’t visited yet. Being it was split between himself and Remus it was….interesting to say the least.

Half of it was a bedroom/study that looked like it belonged in a castle. Four poster bed, many comfortable pillows and blankets in gold and red with cream accents. Disney merchandise along shelves, a bookshelf, window with a nook overlooking the forest and a desk with paint and ink marks all over it. Roman wasn’t as methodical as Logan about his neatness, at least all the time. His art supplies were in a system only he recognized, but the room was neat enough you saw the floor and he kept his bed made and clothes clean.

Remus’ half….not so much. His rose red eyes looked over to where his twin was on his stomach, kicking his legs as he was likewise occupied with his own sketchbook. In shades of black and green with silver accents, his room was a full on mess that would make the clean minded all faint on sight. Clothes piled everywhere, bedding in disarray and the only reason the prince didn’t need a gas mask was because Imagination filtered it out. There was horror merchandise on shelves, a bookshelf with dog eared, torn books, a scuffed mess covered desk and the broken window overlooked a darker forest.

But there was something that was a familiar sight to him. Art supplies in a system almost the same as his, even if they were more covered in dried paint than his own.

The Duke’s poisonous green eyes looked up, his mustache quirked as he grinned mischievously at the Prince. He propped his cheek on his hand. “What’s that look for brother dearest? Oh no, you’ve been thinking haven’t you? I smell the smoke from here.”

Roman rolled his eyes and despite himself a smile tugged at his lips as he watched Remus wave a hand around in faux disgust. He scoffed to hide a chuckle.

“Ha-Ha very funny Remus. Yes, I have been thinking. About how we’re a mirror of each other, we’re so alike…yet so different.”

Remus hummed softly and he rolled over onto his back and wriggled up to set his head in Roman’s lap.

“It’s not that big a shock, if you want I can take you to meet Mary. She can give you quite the shock, that girl is something else! And maybe try to bite your lips off, but I can smack her with the morning star and she’ll know you’re not food. We went to this great bar for drinks-“

He pinched the bridge of his nose in the way of exasperated siblings everywhere and he cut off his twin’s ramble quickly but gently as he began to idly stroke Remus’ hair.

“I mean it’s just a bit confusing since we weren’t always twins. I did compare you to looking in a funhouse mirror before.”

Remus let out a content hum at the affection before he responded voice soft for once.

“It’s not really that far from the truth Roman. We may have been Creativity in full once, but when we had to we split. I was a bit more like you when Thomas was younger…but as time passed he saw two different kinds of creativity. I got most of my power from when he was a teenager. You know that time where everyone is stupid, gross, into the dark and taboo.”

“And that’s where the Intrusive Thought part of you began to manifest and where my Passion did as well.”

Roman finished for him in a similar soft tone. He sighed and twisted s bit, so he could curl around Remus and set his head on his stomach. He smiled as he felt their hands subconsciously join and Remus squeezed softly. They both knew that the prince only thought like this due to how he wanted to ignore his mental crisis of everything not really being as black and white as he’d thought, that had reared it’s head when Janus properly introduced himself and challenged everything he thought he understood.

Virgil had helped as much as he could, and he had tried bless his anxious heart, but it still wasn’t that simple for Roman to confront that part of himself yet. He knew he would soon enough, and when he did he’d have not just the others beside him, but his twin as well. Because they were each other’s mirror, where one went so did the other.

[fredshufflepuff]

hiii can i request fred enemies to lovers with short hufflepuff reader where he just tease her endlessly abt her height and usually the reader ignores it but overtime it just becomes one of her biggest insecurities. other students began to bully the reader for the same reason and she just feel so unfair that they are doing that for something she cannot control. she became extremely quiet and avoid large crowd overall and fred noticed that. he saw what the other students are doing and saying abt the reader and got angry at them. he confronts reader and apologizes for everything he had done and tells her that she was perfect in her own way. sorry if it’s so long and detailed or confusing 😅 thank uuu i love your blog smmm

out of my control || f.w ✧˖*°࿐

summary: fred makes fun of your height relentlessly but doesn’t realize how it’s slowly breaking you.

a/n: did i not know how to head it? yes. are you going to bully me for it? NO >:(

warnings: enemies to lovers, fem!reader, language, teasing, draco being a bully >:/, asshole fred

word count: 1,982

“hey shortstack” a familiar voice taunted, the feeling of a sudden presence forming behind you.

you were on your tip toes trying to grab a potions book for your upcoming exam, obviously failing since it was placed on the second highest shelf.

you could’ve used your wand to wisk it down, but last time you did that you almost made the entire bookshelf come down.

which only peeved off madam pince into threatening you with a weeks worth of detention.

“what do you want, fred?” you asked, turning around and facing the dick who never seems to leave you alone.

“nothing much” he shrugged, reaching over you and grabbing the book you had been trying to get, “just wanted to see you.”

“see me?” your eyebrows raised in confusion as your head titled to the side, your fingers coming up to grab the book but fred pulled away.

“wow, short and gullible?” he laughed, tossing the book to the top of the shelf before walking off, your face heating up as you scoffed at his comment.

“bastard...”

a week went by of freds teasing only increasing, the boy commenting on your height and how small you were whenever he could, which, was a lot.

you didn’t know why he picked on you so much. you never crossed him in any way—that you knew of.

but you also didn’t want to come off as sensitive.

fred didn’t necessarily bully you per say, but his jabs and comments about how you looked—especially on things you couldn’t control, really stung.

you were currently paired with fred for a potions assignment, snape choosing the partners before telling everyone to get started.

“get the cauldron” the boy said, waving his hand at you before plopping himself down in the chair, your eyes narrowing at him in annoyance.

“you know i can’t fucking reach the cauldrons” you snapped, going to sit but fred pulled your chair away.

“that’s why i told you to go get it, it’ll be funny seeing you make a fool of yourself” he snapped, turning away from you with your chair so you couldn’t sit.

“go fuck yourself” you mumbled, storming towards the shelves of cauldrons as students started to make their way back.

you stood in front of the intimidating shelf with a heart clenching feeling in your chest. fred was right, you were destined to embarrass yourself—and no way in hell would snape let you levitate one down.

you looked around the room for a stool you could use, a frown on your face when you didn’t see one.

your hands reached up as you raised to your toes, squinting your eyes and turning your head to the side as you tried to grab the cauldron.

your fingers gripped the cool material of the pot before slowly sliding it towards you, not knowing how close it was to the edge until it dropped.

dropped on you.

it fell heavy on your foot as you yelped loudly in pain, falling to the ground as your hands tried desperately to catch yourself.

“ms.y/l/n! detention for two weeks, are you out of your mind?!” snape barked, everyone’s eyes on yours including freds.

“i-i didn’t do it on purpos—”

“zip it! longbottom-” snape snapped, the boy jumping nervously as he stuttered out a small ‘yes sir?’

“-bring her to madam pomfrey, come straight back when you’re done.”

you spent only an hour in the infirmary, pomfrey claiming you had sprained your foot, but broke your big toe in the process.

pomfrey wanted to keep you overnight, but you insisted on finishing your classes—or at least going back to rest in your dorm.

she gave you crutches and sent you on your way, reminding you that you were welcomed back to the infirmary if you changed your mind.

“crutches? really, tiny pants?”

“tiny pants?” you scoffed, adjusting your book bag that was threatening to fall, “really? how creative.”

“y’know, i was going to help you with your bag, but i think i’ll just watch you struggle” he said, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“like i needed your help.”

just as those words left your mouth, your bag dropped to the ground with a thud.

you groaned mentally to yourself as you stared at the bag, fred laughing his ass off as you tried asking him to pick it up.

you felt stupid asking, but you were tired and your toe was in pain, you just wanted to get to your dorm.

“see you later, short stack.”

you countered up a quick levitation spell, struggling to cast it since you were balancing on one arm, the other leaning on your crutch.

when you finally did grab it, you hobbled your way to the hufflepuff common room while mumbling profanity’s under your breath—mostly cursing out fred for not helping and instead calling you names.

over the next few days your toe fully healed, madam pomfrey giving you a nasty but effective potion to help heal your bone quicker.

“take these three vials after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. start tomorrow morning” pomfrey said, handing you the tiny clear bottles as you nodded in response.

“thank you, i really appreciate it.”

you made your way out of the infirmary and back to your dorm, slipping past the students that hurried past you for today’s quidditch game, slytherin vs gryffindor.

“hey, short stack!” a familiar and irritating voice called, your legs moving faster as you sped walk down the corridor.

the footsteps got closer as you soon felt a heavy arm fall onto your shoulder, a small grunt leaving your lips as you shoved the boy away.

“oooh, snappy now are we?”

“fuck off.”

fred only laughed at your words, tossing his clean sweep back and forth as he followed you to the dorms.

“coming to the game?”

“no” you grumbled, praying to merlin the annoying red head would just leave you alone.

“awh what a shame, i was hoping on seeing my favorite cheerleader there,” his words were laced with sarcasm, the boy poking at your face as you shoved him once again.

he wanted a reaction,that’s what fred always wanted.

but you didn’t give him one, instead you went straight to your common room and up to your dorm, fred soon getting bored and heading off to his game.

you didn’t remember much from that night, just falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

you trudged your way to the main hall with your book bag tossed lazily over your shoulder, today being a free day for students to catch up on missing work and assignments.

you were planning on grabbing something small for breakfast before heading to the library to catch up on some studying.

you were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice you had ran straight into another student, your legs stumbling back as they cursed at you.

“watch it, first year!” draco malfoy scolded at you, your eyebrows furrowing together as your mouth fell open.

“i-i’m not a first year, i’m in the same year as you—”

“she’s just short” crabbe snickered, the blonde next to him chuckling as he eyed you up and down—which, made you extremely uncomfortable.

“stay out of my way, or you’ll get trampled” he said, his words sharp as they practically dug into your skin.

trampled? was he being serious?

“better yet, stay out of everyone’s way.”

later that day you stayed locked away in your dorm, deciding to just study there and snack on the treats you bought earlier on in the week.

you thought it was just fred that felt that way towards you, but apparently it wasn’t.

were you really that much of a burden to people?

you stayed locked away in your dorm till almost night fall. your eyes were burning from staring at the same wooden desk and book you had brought with you, along with your stomach rumbling since you hadn’t eaten much that day.

you decided to head back down to the main hall to grab some dinner and then come back up, wanting to make the trip as quick as possible.

but of course, knowing your luck, that didn’t happen.

you were walking down the ‘somewhat’ empty corridor when your eyes landed on fred, the red head smirking as he saw you which only made your stomach churn.

you tried turning around to take another path, but ran face first into someone who had been walking behind you.

“it’s the short hufflepuff again” the voice cackled, shoving you to the ground as your body hit the concrete with a thud, a low groan falling from your lips as your head started to spin.

“i said stay out of my way or you’ll get trampled, and guess what, i was true to my word” malfoy sneered, his friends laughing at his comment as your face reddened with embarrassment.

tears were pricking your eyes and your chest was heaving up and down, you felt so small compared to everyone else, you felt so tiny and defenseless.

“you want to see trampled, malfoy?” a voice boomed from behind you, your head snapping to the side as you watched fred approaching you from behind.

you felt intimidated by him, the way his body loomed over yours made you feel sick, especially with how he’s been treating you.

“ah, weasley! come to see the show?”

“there is no show, unless you prefer your goons here to see you receive a black eye” he said calmly, the blonde narrowing his eyes at the boy before shoving past everyone, crabbe and goyle running after him.

fred turned to see if you were okay, his eyes softening as he watched tears roll down your face.

“are you oka-”

“okay?! am i o-okay?” you asked, picking yourself up and violently rubbing your tears away, “no i’m not fred! malfoy was never the problem, it was always you!”

“but i-”

“you what?!” you spat, “you were just joking?”

“y/n, i never meant to hurt you” he mumbled, his face heating up as guilt formed in his stomach. he’s been a dick to you all this time and has just now realized what his words were really doing.

“then what was your intention?” you asked.

“i-i just” he didn’t know what to say, there was only one thing to say, “i’m sorry.”

“s-sorry?”

“sorry for picking on you every day for something you can’t control, sorry for making you struggle when you clearly needed help” he spewed out, not even stopping to think as the words he’s been meaning to say fell from his mouth, “i think you’re absolutely perfect the way you are, and i realize now how much of a jerk i was—how much i was hurting you.”

“how can you make fun of something i can’t control and then come to me saying i’m perfect the way i am? are you out of your mind?!” you asked, voice holding annoyance but mostly hurt—what was fred trying to get at?

“i just thought- it’s stupid i know but, i just thought teasing you would be easier than admitting my feelings.”

“f-feelings?”

“for you” he says, voice only just above a whisper as he let his words sink into you. he has feelings for you?

“but i understand if you don’t feel the same, i was rotten to you. i wouldn’t even help you pick up your bag when you were in crutches! i was just so blinded by my own stupidity to actually man up and do something-”

you cut fred off by pulling him into a kiss, his rambling coming to a stop as he melted into your touch. you had to stand on your tip toes to reach him, but fred helped by leaning over and cupping your face.

“i think your height is adorable” he mumbled against your lips, a blush taking over your face as you pulled him back into the kiss.

“just shut up and kiss me.”

fred weasley tag list 🏷 @90smalfoy @astoria-malfcy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @amourtentiaa @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @an2402lths @marrymetheonott @skaratjung @wh0re4blaise @dreamxnotxfound @fjorelaant @pinkandblueblurbs

[electricbluebutterflies]

“you look better in my clothes than i do.” for Garcy? Pretty please?

Y’all know where this goes. Pre-relationship-ish, PG-ish, also on ao3.

He justifies it for a long time, perhaps too long, the same stubborn way he approaches everything else with her.

Lucy is both small and not used to colder climates such as this place in the middle of nowhere – exact location unknown to them for safety purposes, but somewhere up close to the Canadian border, Flynn has figured out that much between the snow and the size of the wildlife outside. He has survived worse and will do so again, knows how to adapt for weather. She… hasn’t.

There is never enough preparation, in their own time or any other. They know this by now. It is the least he can do to offer her one of his sweaters, soft and in a good dark red color, and allow her to nest.

What he does not expect, and what he should see coming by this point, is that she takes this as invitation. Lucy is not used to kindness, it is frightfully apparent, but if given an inch she takes everything she can. Just as a few late nights of conversation led to her occupying an armchair in his room instead of a bed in her own, so does one little offering give her permission to go through his things and claim whatever she wants for warmth.

By the time winter starts to fade, and it is longer here than either of them expects, her default outfits are borrowed sweaters over leggings and no one else bothers to say anything to him about it. And if she has to defend her choices, he doesn’t hear about it, which makes him suspect no such thing happens because he would. Dynamics are improving, he reminds himself, dynamics are improving but imperfect and-

It is so normal now to slip into their room with as much grace as his body allows and see her as she always is, nested in that chair, most of her body tucked up in whatever sweater she’s decided to hide herself in today. It has been months since this pattern started. It has been months since he’s bothered to question any part of it.

She glances up at the sound of the door closing behind him, and it amazes him how they are comfortable in silence, the two of them the most vocal members of the team but not together, not like this, not-

“Something wrong?” she asks after a few moments.

He is unsure how to answer that question, unsure what he’s even doing to worry her. Motionless and watching her, yes, but is that unusual? They are comfortable now, he reminds himself, she moved in of her own free will and has made herself a perfect roommate and-

“No?” He can’t figure out what she’s seeing, and they can’t get in each other’s heads quite yet, so-

“Staring at me.” Lucy uncurls her body enough to make better eye contact with him, and it’s clear enough she’s not bothered so much as just a little concerned. “Like I’m… I don’t know what you-“

“You look better in my clothes than I do,” he says too quickly in the way that all reverent and fearful things must be said. “That color accents your hair.”

She glances away, slightest hint of a blush forming, and he overstepped, he can see that, he-

“At least you’re creative,” she murmurs. “Never gotten that compliment before.”

“You were never the clothes-stealing type?”

“Usually didn’t last long enough to get a chance.”

They don’t talk about her past. Other than the parts she didn’t even know about until recently, it hasn’t seemed important. As compared to his own scarring, hers has less opportunity to damage them, and maybe that’s an oversight, maybe-

“I don’t mind,” he says, because he needs to.

“I know. And I try not to wear-“

“You could. All that is mine is yours.”

He means it innocently enough, in the way that she rummages through his sweater drawer for warmth and if she needs an old t-shirt for her threatened scheme to paint the bathroom then she’s welcome to that too. But he also means it in the deeper ways, those that lives are made out of. What little he has left, and whatever lies on the other side of their war, she is welcome to. He has felt this way for a while now, and waited perhaps too long to say it, and-

“Too bad I don’t have anything to offer in return,” she says too quiet.

“You keep me company. More than enough.”

[we-love-imagines]

Sunday Sniffles

Valentine’s Event: Day 4

Prompt: Rohan + Domestic

Ao3 Link

Author’s Note: Hi! This one is a bit of a sick fic, but it isn’t very gross, just a little fever. I’m so excited for the Rohan ova to go to Netflix, I haven’t gotten the chance to watch them on my own so I’m super excited. I love Rohan so much, he’s so fun to write for! Expect a lot more Rohan content soon!

As you opened your eyes, groaning softly as you woke up, you noticed the man that was beside you when you went to sleep was long gone. To most people, waking up to an empty bed would be upsetting, but you had grown used to it. You and your fiancé, Rohan, were busy people, and there wasn’t much time for early morning cuddles. There was coffee to make, pages to draw, and work to be done. 

However, you both had the tendency to run yourselves ragged. As you rolled out of bed, your legs felt like jello, and your sinuses were extremely sore. As you headed to the bathroom, chills ran up and down your spine as you sniffled and coughed, your head pounding as every step felt like a mile. Realization hit you, however, when you entered the bathroom and flicked the lights on. Your paled cheeks and reddened nose gave it away- you had gotten sick.

After washing up a little, you hoped the icky feeling that coated your body would disappear so you could get some work done; alas, it did not. You slung a blanket over your shoulders, wandering down the hall to your fiancé's office on shaky legs.

“Rohaaaaaan,” you called, your voice hoarse,  before opening the door, “I’m coming in.” He always got a little miffed when he was interrupted, but he was used to you stopping in around this time to say ‘Good Morning.’ Not noticing the weak warble of your voice, he didn’t think to take his eyes off his work.

“What is it, (Y/n)?”

“Babe, I think I’m sick,” you told him, before sneezing, “I don’t think I’ll be able to look over your pages today, I’m sorry.”

Setting down his pencil, he turned to face you. The moment he laid eyes on you, he could definitely tell you weren’t bluffing- you looked like death. While Rohan could certainly overdo it at times, your job as a manga editor had you working yourself to the bone a lot. You not only checked for continuity and general errors in a multitude of mangakas’ manuscripts, but you also were their main consultant, bouncing around ideas with them whenever they seemed stuck. While you were the editor for Pink Dark Boy, Rohan was very self-sufficient, so he never needed much from you. However, as of late, the other mangakas under your care were getting quite needy, putting a little too much on your plate for the past week or so.

“Let me take your temperature,” Rohan stood up, taking your hand and dragging you into another room. He pulled out a little thermometer, placing it in your mouth- just as he expected, the temperature rapidly rose.

“You have a fever, my dear,” he sighed, looking over your weak form, “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” To most people, Rohan seemed like a heartless bastard; Hell, when you first became his editor, you thought so too. However, after getting to know him better, you quickly found that he could be rather sweet if he wanted to. After years of going out, you discovered that said kindness seemed to only be extended to you and a few close friends. Whenever he’d call you little pet names, or hold you like he was right now as he walked you back to your shared bedroom, you reminded yourself of why you fell for that heartless bastard in the first place.

Tucking you back in under your covers, he sat you up on some extra pillows, grabbing some extra blankets from the closet to warm you up even more.

“Tea?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“Babe, you don’t need to baby me,” you told him, prying off some excess blankets, “Go back to work, I know you’re busy. Besides, I have a few calls to make-”

“No, no (Y/n). You’re not doing any work today,” he protested, taking the blanket you were trying to get rid of and putting it back on top of you, “The more you try to do today, the longer your fever is gonna last. You’ve been working too hard lately, anyways. It’s probably the reason you’re sick.”

“But the other mangakas need me, at least let me call them-”

“Dear, they’re creative people, they can manage for a few days while you recover,” he cut you off, making a snide face. He never liked how busy those other mangakas made you- they always seemed to rely on you too heavily for ideas.

“Until then, you’re staying right here. I’m going to make you some hot water for your throat- would you like to read something?”

“Again, babe, you don’t have to fuss over me,” you chided, shooing him away, “I won’t go into work today, but I can make my own tea. You have pages to finish.”

“I know I have pages to finish, but I’m ahead of schedule. Is it wrong of me to ensure my fiancée is well taken care of?” Rohan rolled his eyes, a cocky little grin on his face. He knew you hated when he was right. “What if I wanted to fuss over you anyways, hm? We’re both so busy, I don’t have the time to properly spoil you like I should.”

“You sly dog,” you smiled back at him, sniffling in between words, “You’ve been waiting for something like this, haven’t you?”

“Guilty is charged,” he chuckled, rolling up his sleeves before placing a box of tissues on your nightstand, “I’ve been wanting a nice, easy day with you for awhile. While your condition isn’t optimal, I’ll take any chance I get.”

Without another word, he rushed downstairs to fetch you some warm water as you reached for the drawer in your nightstand, pulling out a book you’ve been meaning to finish. Rohan came back to your room, not only with some hot water and a variety of tea bags to choose from, but with a large breakfast, too.

“You’ve got to drink lots of warm water and eat right so you can get better, okay?” he instructed, setting the tray of food deftly on your lap. You also noticed his ‘go bag’ of art supplies slung over his shoulder. He always carried that bag around when he was out of the house in case inspiration suddenly struck him, so he could draw whole pages of manuscript then and there. He set it down, gently, in the corner of the room; if this bag was with him, it meant that he was staying by your side all day.

Sitting on the bed next to you, Rohan made conversation with you while you ate, cleaning up soon after you were done. He spent the whole day like that, lying beside you, making sure you were okay.

“Rohan, you shouldn’t cuddle me,” you weakly argued, trying to push the man currently spooning you away, “I could get you sick!”

“I don’t care. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to just lay around together, Dear,” he shot back, nuzzling into you. While you wanted to protest further, the warmth of his body and the endearing pet-name made you complacent. Soon enough, you found yourself drifting off in his arms.

Seeing as you were ill, you had a hard time staying asleep, but Rohan would always lull you back down, comforting you like a mother singing to a baby. While part of you wished he was getting his work done, it felt so nice to finally spend some quality time with your future husband. Your little chats in between naps actually included a lot of wedding planning- something you were both too busy to think about since he popped the question. Also, even though you felt a little bad about it, it felt really nice to be doted on like this. Rohan was being so sweet and gentle with you, which was a very nice change of pace compared to his usual prickly personality.

Suddenly, you found yourself waking up, the electric clock on your nightstand showing that it was the early evening. Did you just spend all day in bed? Despite the frail feeling in your limbs, or how gross your face felt, it was so nice to lounge around all day. 

Behind you, you heard a little snore coming from Rohan. Carefully, you turned over to face him, making sure to go slow enough not to wake him. As you settled back in, you saw how peaceful his face was, all of the tension in his body gone as he slept.

It felt nice to wake up to his face again. From here on out, you two would make sure to save some more time for each other.

[soulsow]

11. transform [free day]

summary: azem is asked an uncommonly intimate question.

rating: t

characters: adonis (sam azem oc), areia (ancient!phie)

word count: 521

notes: egg and i gave eachother prompts for free day! :D another one with some creative interpretation but uhhh there’s not a lot of ancient lore to go off of. just enjoy the ooey-gooey happiness ok

"won't you please transform for me, adonis?"

not many people still called azem by that name, but when it was areia he never minded—though she did have a habit of calling him by his title when feeling particularly feisty or angry, which never failed to elicit a chuckle from him.

"are you sure we're on that level, areia?" he asked, a hand running through his floppy brown hair, a smirk playing on his lips. a gentle shove and a pout were her answer.

they were on one of the outskirting islands of elpis, able to look out over the facility while also bask in the warm sunlight and under the pastel-colored clouds. it was idyllic, but most of the world was. still, elpis was always a place of calm where azem knew he could retire if he needed space to think.

when areia tagged along, however, there wasn't a lot of room for thinking—at least not of the academic kind. she was fiercely intelligent, smarter than he was, and he could admit that easily. it was one of just the many things he found entirely fascinating about her.

"you know transforming takes a lot of energy," he finally said in earnest, stretching his legs out on the blanket they were sitting upon. The breeze from their altitude rustled the tree leaves and caught a spare edge of his robe, causing it to billow up before settling down moments later. "and it’s not really something we're supposed to show others."

"i've always been curious what a member of the convocation would look like transformed," she mused, leaning over closer to him. "you're all so strong, you must be incredibly fearsome."

had he seen anyone else on the convocation transform? nay, not that he could remember, at least not in recent memory. most were a bit more...uptight than he was, but even the amiable elidibus didn't parade about in his transformed state. nobody really did.

"we're a bit too busy most days to sit about and compare our second forms," he laughed, the irony of his statement not lost on himself. he could almost predict what she might say next.

"well, if you're so busy, azem, why deign to spend time up here with me?" her words were haughty, but a laugh colored the edge of her words and a little smirky smile pulled at her lips.

falling back on the blanket to look up at the soft clouds swirling above them, adonis smiled and glanced at her.

"in my travels, i've learned much. academia is oft considered the most important thing we can strive for, and i do not disagree that it's important." he said. "however...there's naught else i've found in the world that can replace the company of someone you love. nothing else has meaning without that."

areia, having moved closer, grinned down at him. her hair created a canopy around their faces as she bent down, lips grazing against his gently before committing to a  kiss. they separated after a moment; the embrace didn't last long, but it didn't have to.

"i still want to see you transform, though."

[satoruvt]

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement. 

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time. 

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job.  “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars. 

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!” 

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower. 

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!” 

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down. 

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?” 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

-

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom. 

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself. 

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

-

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen. 

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring. 

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart. 

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add. 

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,”  Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it. 

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel. 

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh. 

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. 

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though. 

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

[ohhmyheart5678]

When in the streets of seoul (5)

*warning* this mentions death, murder, suicide, guns, and other gruesome and dark content if you are sensitive to these kinds of things do not read it

Pairing: Chan x female reader

Word count 2.1k

Previous/ next

*****

It's been six days, six day fucking days since I've been trapped here. I absolutely hate it. I spent the first three days not speaking to anyone and the other three finally excepting the fact that this is going to be my life now.

It's such a nice place. I get fed the best foods, I sleep in the most comfortable king sized bed with silk sheets, I have the best clothes, and I'm still miserable.

I went to the speaker and pressed 1. "Kinely ! You need something?" Chan sounded quite concerned. He believed that I had everything I needed but he forgot one thing. "I need to go to the store" I say sharply. Even though the deal was  that I wasn’t able to go in public he haven't let me out of this room yet.

He says I'm not cooperating and so I have to wait. "What do you need from the store that I can't get for you?" I could hear the slight annoyance in his voice but he could never be as annoyed as I am right now. I mean he is keeping me hostage for Christ sake. "Just take me to the store you dickhead" I was honestly so done with him.

I needed to get out this room and I needed to go to the store ASAP. "I'm not going to the store because you won't tell me what it is" Chris was trying to put his foot down but little did he know I was far better at this game than he was. "Look I need pads either you take me to get them, or you can suffer the consequences of trying to find the perfect pads for me which I guarantee that you won't and then you'll have to take me to pick them out anyways, or we can always go with the option of me bleeding everywhere" there was a long pause before he finally responded.

"Fine I'll take you to the store" was all he said before it went completely silent. I waited patiently by the door until a boy comes in. "Hey seugmin did Chris send you for me" he just gives a simple nod. "Felix and I" he simply says while fully opening the door that he was standing in just enough to show his body. Once he swung open the door it revealed Felix. The orange haired boy waved at me.

Since staying here Chris has sent the boys at least once so that they could introduce themselves since I'm gonna be seeing a lot more of them. I've learned about what these boys do. Since I had nothing better to do the least I could do was steal information on the guys I'm going to be living with from now on.

For instance Chris is the oldest and the leader. He calls the shots, he looks over the plans, and makes sure everything runs smoothly he does need to do much work but Felix says Chris is the last resort and that he’s feel bad for anyone if Chris was called in. Then there's Minho. He is one of the main men on the field he's the look out and distraction, and supposedly from what I heard he does a damn good job at it. Plus Minho has a medical background so if anyone gets hurt he’s the man everyone goes to.

There's also changbin he's got quite the temper so they use him when there's need for extreme measures you know if they need .. a mess. I heard he can get pretty creative with that stuff.

Hyunjin, who often checks on me throughout the day is the sniper. He knows weapons like the back of his hands and could handle them blindfolded. Then it's Jisung, they call him Han. He is the best fighter in the house. You can have a gun in the fight and he could still win.

Felix known as the second Aussie of the house does the interrogations. He can get anyone to talk, his deep voice scares mostly anyone , but for the ones that are harder to get through. Let's just say they can either come out alive while missing some part of their body. Or they can come out in a body bag.

Seugmin is the hacker, he can hack into litterally anything. You name it, he can hack it. He's the one who got the information on my dad.

Last but definitely not least there's jeongin they all him I.N . He is silent but deadly. The red hair boy is like a ninja. They use him when they want to get the job done quickly but quietly.

We arrived downstairs where Chris was waiting for us at the door. I figured he was already handling business downstairs so he fetched the two boys to get me. "Thanks gentleman I got it from here" it was his nice easy of telling them to go away.

We got into his car and he drives us to a nearby store. I looks around searching for the right ones as he stands behind me trying to figure how the whole process works. I saw the pack I wanted and grabbed two of them. "Ahh now I know for next time" he says as if he has just been enlightened. "Next time?" I wanted to know what he meant by next time.

"Next time its you know... that time, I'll be able to pick out the right ones for you" that’s so aggravating! My only reason to get out the house was once again taken from me. Chan probably could tell that I was slightly disappointed by his statement so he changed it a little , I mean seeing that he’s talking to a hormonal women who’s not necessarily in the best mood at the moment. "I mean unless you'd like to do it for yourself" A small smile slightly appeared on my face as I handed the cashier the goods to ring up. "Is there anything else you want or need from here before we leave" Chris wanted to hurry out of here because this was time he could be spending working at home. "Nope" I was completely content with having what I needed so far.

Once we arrived back home I was instantly sent back to my room. Sitting there in boredom I looked around for some form of entertainment. There was absolutely nothing to do in this room and I was just now realizing it. For the past few days all I've been doing was sleeping and eating , so I didn't stop to think about it . I was too busy being sad about being locked up in a room by a bunch of psychos.

I looked over at the speaker not wanting to bother Chris because I rarely want to even speak to him. I walked over pushing the number 5 on the speaker and hoped this man was in his room.

"Hey kinely are you doing ok?" He genuinely sounded concerned. "Can you come over here please" I knew I didn't have to really ask him because he doesn't mind coming and checking on me anyways but I thought to ask just in case . "Sure just give me a sec" Hyunjin was always in here and even though Chris comes in often to talk to me he's always busy it's only for a few seconds before he goes back to "work".

Hyunjin came within fifteen minutes. He knocks making sure I'm not naked or anything. I think that it was pretty nice of him to do considering the other boys just come in as they please. I mean I know it's your home and all but a girl needs privacy.

"Come in" I yelled from my closet, I had just put on sweats and a hoodie to get a little comfortable. "You sent for me?" He walked in and closed the door behind him. "I was wondering if you could stay in here for a little longer than you normally do? I think I'm gonna go insane in here by myself" he chuckled at me being immensely dramatic. I put the back of my hand on my forehead pretending to be a damsel in distress.

He walked over to my bed and sat on it and patted on it which was his way of telling me to sit down. "Maybe you don't have to stay in here all the time" he seemed like he was getting somewhere but I was yet to follow. "What do you mean?" Was he gonna take me out this house or was I reading this wrong? "Its not much but maybe you could come to my room. There's tons of things to do in there. We just can't let Chan know I'm taking you out considering he wants you in the room." He fidgets a little wondering how I was going to respond to his offer.

Hell yeah I was gonna take this opportunity to leave the room! I had nothing else to do in the looney house. "Why not?" I shrug not wanting him to know just how excited I was. He grabs my head and leads me to his room all the way in the other side of the house.

My jaw dropped once he opened his room door to let me inside. He had arcade games like ddr, those ones when you race on the motorcycle, street fighter and pac man. He had a giant tv mounted on his wall in front of his bed and a wii console which I havent seen in years. "Told ya" he crossed his arms leaning against doorframe while admiring the dumb look of shock on my face.

"Where do we even start?" I was still looking around trying to pinpoint the first thing I wanted to do. "Doesn't matter where we start all you need to know is I'll kick your ass at any game in this room" his cockiness shines through, a side of him I haven't seen since I first met him.

What he didn't know was how competitive I can get "You're gonna be very disappointed when you realize how much you suck compared to me, especially when I beat you in dance revolution" It was on now. I can see a gleam in his eyes and knew he was almost if not just as competitive as I am.

Twelve rounds, six wins , and six loses later. We decided to watch a movie. "How's it feel to loose to someone as amazing as I?" I stood on his bed placing my hand on my hips. I'm sure he's yet to meet someone as dramatic as me. "We both won and lost the same amount of time so I'd say we're equally as amazing if you ask me" hes right about that but this his room and his games that he plays all the time if he didn’t win then it would be embarrassing. Hyunjin pulls my right leg causing me to fall on his bed. "You asshole!" My body had no control over itself. It was bouncing up and down on its own and I couldn't even stop it.

"You were to one who wanted to watch a movie and you can't even sit still" Hyunjin teases while I finally get myself together and sit up all the way in the bed. "Plus you weren't calling me a asshole when I took you out of your room." I gasped while holding my chest. "Oh how dare you?" I squinted my eyes at him and he laughed at me.

I must admit I haven't felt this good in a few days. I almost forgot that I was being held against my will but the thought is always in the back of my mind. I finally settle down and Hyunjin was nice enough to let me choose the movie I wanted. So here we were, on the bed watching a movie. For comfort I lay my head on his shoulder and her wraps his wraps around me.

I felt relaxed and almost safe. Soon I fell asleep with the movie playing in the background. Hyunjin was staying still trying not to wake me up. In fact so still that he ended up falling asleep himself.

I just needed to wake up on time before Chris realizes that I'm gone.

Previous/next

[willgrahymn]

Strangely Estranged

this is my gift to @romansandersprotectionsquad for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange!! I really hope you like it :]

Description: Remus just wants to make his art, but Roman is still distressed by the events of SvS Redux/POF and it's affecting both of their abilities to create. When Remus goes to confront him about it, he gets a little more than he bargained for. Content warnings: Some Remus being Remus-y type lines, blood mentions (again, Remus), a good amount of swearing, and throwing some shade at Janus. Word count: 2747 I’ll rb with the ao3 link :]

- ’Honestly,’ Remus thought, ‘this painting could use more blood.’

He stared at the incomplete project. It was at least the 7th time he started on something today, but no matter what he always came to a pause.

Roman, that motherfucker, he probably had a creative block. Remus didn’t care much about only being half of Creativity, hell, it was fun coming up with the most gory stories he could imagine, but it seemed like whenever Roman hit a block he just had to drag him down with him.

He leaned back against his wall, tossing his paintbrush and catching it again. He stuck the brush in his mouth. Blue paint didn’t taste as good as green, but maybe he was just biased.

Remus glared at the painting. If it had eyes, he was sure they would be staring back, mocking him. Maybe he’d scrap the thing and use it as a target next time he played with his throwing stars.

He ground his foot into the stained carpet. Whether it was paint or blood didn’t matter. Come to think of it, he’d been at a pause for some time now. Roman hadn’t left his room nearly as much either. The only people he’d seen Roman hang out with recently were Virgil, Logan, and (inescapably) Thomas. Then there was Patton and Janus who hardly spent time together before. Now they never left each other's sides. Remus would be a liar if he said it wasn’t somewhat upsetting.

Remus loved drama. He loved watching people fight and be seconds from either murdering each other or making out right then and there. It was exciting to see people so close to their limit. Roman’s drama wasn’t fun though, it was just fucking sad.

He was pretty sure it would stay that way unless he took matters into his own hands. He grabbed his morningstar. He didn’t think he’d actually use it, but if he had to literally knock some sense into his dear brother, then so be it.

Walking down the hall of the mind palace the lighting got brighter. Silently, he wondered how the hell Virgil had managed to live with the other three for so long. With Roman’s obnoxiously loud personality and old villain accusations, he doubted the rogue raccoon could’ve slept the day away like he did when he tried to avoid him.

He stood in front of a tall, white door. It looked like something you’d find in a children’s movie or fairy tale that told the protagonist there was some sort of grand adventure on the other side… 

How boring.

Without bothering to knock, Remus opened the door to his brother's room. Maybe for Janus, he would have knocked. There was hardly anything that could truly shock him anymore with all the fun little fantasies that ran through his head, but Janus’ wrath was something he would save for a day when he needed that extra kick.

Then again, maybe he was wrong to say that he couldn't be shocked. Not when Prince Perfect’s room was such a mess. Not when one of his mirrors had been knocked to the floor. And certainly not when he took in the sight of the other half of Creativity, sitting there at the side of his bed in his black undershirt and dress pants.

Something in Remus’ guts told him there was something wrong here, and this time it wasn’t because he had been impaled or ate something Logan and Janus insisted he shouldn’t have. No, this was something else. Something he hadn’t been allowed to see since the two split up. One brother deciding he needed to be pure as white, and the other allowing himself to be the darkest black imaginable.

He stepped closer. Roman hadn’t made a sound, not yet, but it felt like approaching a lion. A lion that stood for courage yet fell to shattered pieces of what it once was.

And maybe if he hadn’t been feeling real, genuine concern for something other than Thomas’ lack of flare in his art, he would have laughed when his mind went to Scar and Mufasa.

It wasn’t like he cared though. Concern, maybe. But he couldn’t be bothered to care for his brother who he hardly ever spoke to for purposes other than making him uncomfortable with his ideas.

Roman shifted on his bed, still not bothering to look to see who entered. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

Remus rolled his eyes. Of course his brother would choose to be a little bitch about this.

“First off, you didn’t tell me shit.” He said. Roman sat up, looking at him. A mix of defense and curiosity in his glare. “Second, I’m not the one making your life any harder than I normally would.” His brother scoffed. “Aren’t you though?”

“You’re the one affecting my work!”

Roman huffed, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging them closely. He liked the pressure. Logan would probably be able to tell him why if he asked. He remembered hearing a conversation between him and Virgil when the darker first showed up. Something about pressure was a stress reliever.

At the same time, Remus crossed his arms, tapping his boots and rubbing his fingers against his sleeves. Whatever response he had been waiting for didn’t come. Maybe he should leave. Pretend whatever this was wasn’t happening and go focus on something else until the other half got his shit together. That would be a lot easier than standing here, the air of the room suffocating him into silence.

Either way, neither brother knew what to say. It would be easy for the pensive prince to turn around, to tell the other not to speak to him and to go back to wherever he came from. At least it should have been.

Remus bit down on his lip not minding the pain. It wouldn’t do any good to try to beat at what was already broken. “I can go find someone else.” It was more of a statement than an offer.

His twin tensed. “Please don’t.”

Remus just nodded. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Normally he didn’t have to think this hard. He didn’t want to care about his brother and his problems. He knew at least part of the reason behind the other’s mood was because of him because Roman hated him and being compared to him. Yet still, despite being twins he couldn’t help but feel like he had to care for his baby brother.

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

He was Dark Creativity, the embodiment of intrusive thoughts and other so-called disturbing ideas and imagery. It wasn’t something that ever upset him, and hell it was fun making the other Sides and Thomas uncomfortable. It was fun telling Patton things that would make him shift in his seat and try to change the topic as if nothing had happened. It was fun to create thoughts that would fuel anxiety and haunt the sad little Side who harbored them. It was more than amusing to sit beside Roman, watching as he tried to do his work and ignore his bothersome brother’s constant suggestions that ruined his fairytale fantasies.

If Thomas didn’t want to use all the available ingredients he gave him to create that was fine. He could manage just fine! Really, the repression only made him stronger.

But Roman knew how to make people feel those warm fuzzy feelings that were like caterpillars in your ribs. Something that looking at it now, maybe Remus regretted not trying to pick up on the wholesome little messages that his brother always cared about. At least maybe then he’d have a better idea how to deal with all of these emotions going on. Even Logan would have done better in this situation.

His brother sighed, sitting up and turning to finally face him. He looked worse than expected. No wonder he didn’t want to see anyone else. Remus couldn’t tell what he was feeling, taking in the sight of this mess. Roman’s brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his nails digging into his skin.

“Why are you still here?” He asked.

Remus bit his lip and chose to ignore the question. “I know you’re pissed about Jan being accepted.”

“Yeah duh,” Roman scoffed. He sounded like a dam ready to break. “Excuse me for not being absolutely overjoyed at this… Manipulative Malefactor being accepted by our very own Moralidad.”

The Duke nodded. Sure, you could call him friends with Double D, but he wasn’t going to be like him and lie and deny that Janus certainly had… a way… of getting what he wanted, whether it meant using others as a stepping stone or not.

“I never should have trusted him.” Roman continued. “I mean, I never even liked him. Hell, right after he revealed himself to Thomas I said I hated him… I only went along with what he wanted because he pretended to be someone I’m supposed to be able to trust, and then he used me again by flattering me with fake love and bringing up Thomas’ dreams. And I just– I just keep falling for it because I’m an idiot and I keep fucking everything u—”

He hadn’t noticed Remus approaching him or pulling him into a hug until it happened.

It was tense at first. Roman froze at contact. Slowly, he sunk into his brother's arms, not caring about the way the material scratched against his face. He just wanted to feel safe.

“What’s happening?” He asked.

Remus wasn’t sure he had an answer.

“I think Patton would refer to it as brotherly bonding, but I really don’t know.” Remus laughed lightly.

Eventually, Remus slowly pushed his brother off of him, still holding onto his shoulders and smiling in a way he could only hope came off as sympathetic. On any other occasion, Roman would despise the fact that his brother was just the tiniest bit taller than him, but right now he didn’t care. He wouldn’t tell him it was good for hugs though, he hadn’t lost all of his dignity.

“Listen, Ro-bro, we’re twins. What affects you affects me too. I know it might not change much, and you might still not want to be around me. That’s fine. Just… remember that we’re two Sides in a trenchcoat trying to make up for one, got it?” Roman nodded, rubbing at his eyes and smiling slightly. “I would have expected a darker way of phrasing that from you.”

Remus shook his head. “I may not think much, but I do know enough to understand it’s probably not the best timing for it.”

He smiled, watching as his brother lightened up a bit.

The room was still a mess. They’d have to fix it up later. Not right now though, he didn’t think his brother was ready enough to face his own destruction.

“C’mon, get your outfit on.” “Huh?” “You weren’t planning to stay locked up in here like Rapunzel all day, were you?” “I mean… kind of, yeah?” Remus shook his head. “Not happening,” He said. “We gotta do some dumb shit to make you feel better.” “Ree, I’m fine now, really.”

He ignored him, grabbing Roman’s stupidly bright white shirt off the floor and throwing it at him. Checking around for his sash afterwards.

“You at least gotta put yourself together! I know how you are about your looks– even if mine are better.”

Roman rolled his eyes before pulling his shirt on, grabbing his sash from under his pillow. “I can’t stand you.” They both knew it wasn’t the truth. Not right now at least.

“I’m going to fix… this.” Roman said as he waved his hand in front of his face.

The prince left to his bathroom, grabbing some of his makeup from his desk as he went. Remus flopped onto his brother's bed. This wasn’t exactly where he expected his day to go. It was fine though. Actually, it probably went a lot better than whatever he originally planned. Bitching at Roman could be fun, but he doubted it would have made anything better. Hopefully getting rid of some emotional block would stop the art block too. It sounded like something Logic would approve of.

Remus stared up at the glow in the dark stars that littered his brother’s ceiling. Roman’s room was less loud than usual. More quiet. Like a heartbeat that once echoed so loudly had suddenly stopped, or a fire which finally died out leaving nothing but smoke and ash behind.

He heard it when the faucet turned on, when a hairbrush hit the floor, and when Roman cursed at his eyeliner.

‘His hands must be shaky.’ They’d have to fix that.

Remus got up again, half-assedly making his brother’s bed and tidying up the place. He didn’t know where everything went, so he could only hope he was putting stuff where it shouldn’t have ever been. Even if he was trying to cheer up his brother now didn’t mean he couldn’t work in advance to cause trouble for him later.

When Roman came out he looked as if nothing had happened. Like nobody would be able to look at him and think twice of if he was okay. It was an art in itself to be a raging storm and to settle down to the tranquility of dewdrops on flower petals within a matter of minutes.

When had he learned to do that?

Or maybe it was just that he didn’t spend enough time around the other to know. Maybe if one of the other Sides saw Roman now, they wouldn’t even have to study his movements or expression to know he had been upset. It would be as easy as looking at  him and recognizing the scripted smiles and rehearsed words for what they were. Was he really that bad at being a brother to fall for his own twins’ tricks?

Roman shifted on his feet. “So… What are we doing?”

“Oh!” Remus bounced, the beads on his shirt clicking together. “Well I was thinking about it earlier and since Papa Patton and Daddy Dee are spending so much time together–” “Never call them that ever again.” “You never let me have fun! But fine. You know how those two have been hanging out more.”

“I can’t let you do anything mean to Patton, he’s off limits.”

Remus pouted. “I thought you were mad at him!” “He’s Patton!” Remus glared, and Roman glared back.

Remus sighed. “You’re so lame, but I guess we can just focus on the snake. Oh! And don’t worry, I can take the fault. Besides, I haven’t fucked around with him in a while and have been waiting for a good day to do it.” He grinned. Roman would have considered it evil, but this, this was pure sibling mischief. “I was thinking we could start subtle like moving his shit 2 inches to the left and work our way up from there. I was thinking about leaving my pet rats in his room and letting them go wild, but he is a snake and I don’t trust like that…”

Roman tried to stifle a laugh. Remus tried not to smile. Remus turned away, heading to his room to put his abandoned work away before anything else. Roman, he noticed, hadn’t followed. Slowly, he turned to him. “Are you coming?” “Oh, yeah I just...“ Roman paused, taking a deep breath and smiling softly. A real smile, not the mask he had given before. “Thank you. For doing all this.” Remus’ eyes softened, nodding as he spoke again. “Don’t go getting too soft on me, Ro-bro. I’m still going to attack your side of the Imagination.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” The two brothers stood there, an awkward yet comfortable quiet moment of understanding neither wanted to interrupt. “C’mon,” Remus said, waving his brother along. “We have vengeance in our hearts and glitter in our pockets. Let’s fuck shit up.”

The prince glanced to himself in the mirror. Now wasn’t the time to focus on his shattered world view, or how his brother may not be as horrible as he thought. Now was the time to have fun messing with the one who had messed with him.

He looked to his brother, eyes sparkling. “Let’s do it.”

[marshmallow-phd]

Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung  x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

**

This was the kind of life you always should have lived.

Teenage you wouldn’t be able to understand. That girl was too lost in the flashing lights and the glamor of magazine covers to understand the sacrifices that came with that lifestyle. Those things felt trivial: regular school, normal sleeping hours, being in charge of your own image and your daily activities. What was a classroom compared to flying to Paris for Fashion Week and being photographed on the red carpet?

As a child, you were used to being told what to do and how to behave, so it seemed like routine when your handler changed over from your parents to your manager. You understood that doing what you were told kept you on schedule and in work. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. An understatement if you’d ever heard one.

The paperwork and awaiting decisions could feel overwhelming at times, but at least you were the one making the decisions. You had a say and you weren’t treated as a money machine. Yes, as someone with employees, you had people depending on you for their paychecks, but the relationship was different. You weren’t being exploited. Rather, you were looked to for guidance. You might not have been the head honcho of the hotel business, but someday you would be. That was a legacy you truly held on to.

“A package arrived for you, Miss.”

You didn’t even bother to look up as you waved uninterested to your assistant. “Just set it down on the table.” Right now, these budget papers needed your attention. “I’ll open it later.” You hadn’t been expecting anything, but that wasn’t unusual. Partners or sponsors occasionally sent new products to test out or as a gift to keep the mutually beneficial relationship going strong.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jun put the small cardboard box on the coffee table set up on the other side of your office before bowing and leaving.

For another hour, you poured over the suggestions from the different departments of what they believed they needed to fully function for the upcoming fiscal year. All the numbers were beginning to blur together as a headache was starting to pound against your skull. You needed a break.

Yes, this was a much better career for you. Although those looking from the outside might see it as a step down, they didn’t fully understand. It was easy to look at the smiling face on a promotional campaign and stop. They didn’t dig deeper. The need to appear perfect but never reaching that level, the lack of decisions placed in your hands, the lack of privacy. What extremes had you gone to avoid paparazzi or overly adoring fans? How many dates had you gone on that were ruined either because the guy didn’t want all the attention or because that was exactly what they wanted?

Standing up, you stretched your legs by pacing around your office. Thankfully it was spacious enough to give you a good amount of room, letting you make large laps to get the blood flowing again. It was an office fit for a director with its tall windows on the top floor. Your father’s office was a few doors down the hall and even larger than yours. Maybe you should pace in there instead, to get more steps in. With the sun going down on the horizon, the chances of your father still being around were slim. Unlike you, he tried to keep to normal working hours. It made your mother feel more at ease about his health. A troubling concern that bothered you, too. When you were child, your father was Superman, invincible. As an adult, you were no longer shielded from the truths of an ailing body.

Before you could decide to check if his office was indeed empty, the package caught your eye.  The return address was a P.O. Box, absent of a name of whom it belonged to. Strange. It was also addressed directly to you, no formal title preceding it, as was often the case with promotional packages. You didn’t get too many delivers in this manner that weren’t of the router or legal envelopes variety. Grabbing a pair of scissors from your desk, you cut the tape and pulled back the cardboard flaps.

And then you screamed.

The box fell from your hands as Jun came running back into the room.

“Ma’am, what happened?” he asked frantically. With a trembling hand, you pointed to the package that was now spilling out all over your carpet.

Old magazine clippings covered in red smears - smears that were obviously made of blood.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jun swallowed thickly as he backed you away. “I’ll call the police and have security review who dropped it off.”

You nodded, unable to voice anything, too paralyzed by fear. Because this was no ordinary threat. This had nothing to do with who you were today. You knew those clippings, those old articles that you hadn’t thought about in years. That part of your life had long been behind you. The only remnant of it was the rare “Where are they now?” tabloid entry that no one read. So why had someone done this? Why now?

**

No.

No, no, no, no, and no.

There was no way you were going to agree to this. Your life was exactly the way you wanted it to be and you didn’t need some over muscled buffoon messing it all up. In your opinion, you should let the detectives do their work while you let this creep know that you weren’t scared of him. The initial shock of the first package had worn off and now you were just pissed.

“I don’t think that this is necessary. At all.” You were determined to with this argument as you sat across from your father in his living room. His face was scrunched with worry and dark circles pulled at the skin underneath his eyes. When he called you over to your childhood home, you thought he was simply going to give you an update on the police investigation into your stalker.

Hah.

Instead he had a bomb to drop on you – no pun intended. His idea of keeping you safe with this stalker on the loose. If it had just been the one package, you would have had a stronger argument. But the phone calls started two days later. No words were spoken, just heavy breathing. You couldn’t even get a creative psychopath.

“I will not lose my only child,” your father insisted.

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “Increase security in the main lobby and start screening all packages that come in. We don’t need to go to extremes.”

Your father was much better at presenting counter arguments. “What if the stalker manages to get through the front lobby? Or if the mail comes to your home next time? Or if he approaches you at a restaurant or the park? Distanced security will only go so far. I need someone who will be there in a split second if something were to happen.”

“Father, please, do not stick some stuck up, full-of-himself babysitter on me at all times.”

“A babysitter is meant for children, and from what I see, you’re a grown woman in trouble.”

In the doorway leading from the main hallway to the living room stood three very different, yet very imposing men in tailored black suits. The one who spoke stepped forward. His black hair was parted on the side, curling slightly over his forehead. Two little dots sat below his left eyebrow. He possessed a fierce sharp face that had the ability to look… bored, almost. The others that flanked either side were complete opposites: one short with light brown hair and a stocky build, the other tall with platinum hair and a lankier frame. Not exactly the run-of-the-mill bodyguards. Were these the ones that would be stuck with you all day and night?

“Ah, Jaebeom,” your father greeted as he stood from his spot on the couch opposite of where you stood. Walking around, he shook this Jaebeom’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming. Your agency came highly recommended.”

Jaebeom placed his hand against his chest, bowing gratefully. “We’ve worked hard to gain our reputation.”

“And will one of you three be guarding my daughter?”

“Only in the areas where extra protection is needed,” Jaebeom said. “Given the gravity of the situation, I’m putting my best man on this.”

Crossing your arms, you felt like the child who got caught with their Halloween candy under the bed and now the parents were talking about what punishment to deal out. “And who would that be?”

“Park Jinyoung,” the silver haired one smirked.

“He’s finishing up another assignment at the moment, so he couldn’t be with us today,” Jaebeom said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of assignment?”

“A short term one.”

A bit cryptic, but you were smart enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Whatever this Park Jinyoung was doing before he would stick to you like flypaper, it was none of your business. A small little prayer that his assignment would take longer than expected and wouldn’t show up at all was cited in your head. Pointless. Surely, Jaebeom would just insert another guard until “his best man” was available again. Your father would insist.

“I thank you for your attentiveness on this.” For the first time in weeks, the tension in your father’s shoulders released. Guilt twisted at your stomach. Though you were sure that, with a little bit of time, this stalker would get bored and move on, your father’s worry was unsurmountable.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Turning away from the others, your arms moved from a defensive position to one where you were holding yourself together. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that you were the boss, now that you were behind the scenes, away from the red-carpet premieres and flashing bulbs that burned your retinas. You had a grip on all aspects of your life. Your apartment was decorated the way you wanted, not your mother. You made final decisions for the company. That package was snatching the control of your life from your hands.

“Hey.”

You turned your head to glance over your shoulder. The stockier bodyguard had approached you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. A sympathetic expression softened the sharper features of his face. He could be intimidating, with his broad shoulders yet lithe build shown off by the tailored suit.

“Jinyoung really is the best among us,” he said. “He’ll make sure you’re safe and I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught this guy in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you sighed as you turned around fully, “but it's not the stalker that I’m worried about. I like my privacy, my life the way it is now. With a guard following me around all day, word about this will get out. And then the paparazzi will be back on me like clumps of sticky rice.” They wouldn’t be able to resist a story like this.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be forever.”

You nodded, but more in acknowledgment that he had spoken rather than in agreement. It was easy enough to say that something would end; everything does. But what you wanted was to be able to physically be close to the end. You wanted to see it, reach out and graze it with the tips of your fingers. But there was no light in this tunnel. If you ever met this stalker, you would make sure that at least one of you ended up in the hospital.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom called out, catching both of your attentions. The leader motioned out the door with his head. “Let’s go.” He turned back to your father. “We’ll make another round at the office, get to know your security there, and create a rotation that will cover the area sufficiently.”

“I thank you again for all your work. I look forward to meeting this Park Jinyoung.”

“He should arrive by tomorrow evening. If something holds him up, we’ll contact you.”

Your father shook his hand before the three bodyguards left. When it was just the two of you again, you leaned up against the wall and let out a rather unseemly raspberry between your lips.

“Please, don’t be like that,” your father begged. “I’m only trying to do what I think is best to protect you.”

“I know, I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Your father chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed your bodyguards back then.”

“Because I was stupid and it made me feel important.” Very important, indeed. Not just anyone had big burly men surrounding them as they walked through airport to get to the blacked-out van waiting for you in the car park. They were the ones who kept the photographers and overzealous fans at bay. When you were young, you looked at those pictures where you were wearing sunglasses to block out the flashing and thought you were one of the coolest people in the world. Now the very thought of that situation made you feel pity – whether it was old pictures of yourself or newer one of the latest generation of young stars. There was nothing to envy. Not when all you wanted was to be able to walk through the airport and make it to your flight without worrying around being crowded or pulled at or hear the constant screaming. And you weren’t even a heartthrob popstar. You’d dated a few, though.

“Well, things are different now,” you father said in an attempt to be comforting. “and I spoke to others who had used Lim Jaebeom’s services and they said it was like his men were hardly even there.”

It took a lot of self-control to bite down and keep your tongue from spouting off. Because it didn’t matter how invisible the guards felt to the others – they were probably used to treating employees like they didn’t exist. You were not going to be able to do that. You were going to be too hyperaware of the extra presence in your life. Like a shadow creeping behind you down a dark alley. Always there in the corner of your eye, lurking and waiting.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said.

Your father nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Seonjo see you there.”

“Father, I-” One quick, stern look cut off any argument. “Yes, sir.” So much for being a grown woman.

Seonjo was one of your father’s own security. He was loyal to the family, your father most of all. He once sent a disgruntled employee to the hospital for trying to harm your father. He never directly admitted to having a license to kill, but you wouldn’t be surprised. As a child, he’d intimidated you. One time, he caught you trying to sneak out through the back kitchen door past midnight so you could go hang out with your friends. You thought that being thrown over someone’s shoulder was a stunt you would only have to perform in front of a camera. Needless to say, you didn’t try that again.

Out front, Seonjo was already leaning up against your car, waiting for you to unlock the doors. You didn’t fight him on who got to drive. You simply pulled your keys out and tossed them to the bodyguard before jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“How do you plan on get home?” you asked once you were down the road a ways.

“Rideshares are very common, you know,” Seonjo snorted. He’d become more playful as you’d gotten older. Your only guess as to why was perhaps he wasn’t very comfortable around children. Those little creatures were even more unpredictable than adults and from you had observed, Seonjo liked things… quiet. And orderly. Kids tended to be neither.

“But wouldn’t that break protocol?”

“They won’t enter the property,” Seonjo countered. “I’ll have them drop me off a little down the road and walk the rest of the way.”

“Always the man with a plan,” you laughed.

“That’s the job,” he replied with a smile.

Safe and sound in your own apartment, Seonjo bid you a goodnight and headed down the elevator to meet his rideshare driver down on the sidewalk. You were a bit surprised that he wasn’t staying the night to watch over you, but you were thankful. One last night of freedom in your own home before the lion came a’ prowling. It didn’t feel fair at all. But it just goes to show that the past never stays asleep for long.

**

“So, wait, let me get this straight: you… are… complaining at the fact that a man has to protect you and keep you safe from your crazy, maniacal stalker?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, knowing that you should have been prepared for this.

Dan had been by your side since the two of you costarred in a short-lived comedy series about high school students. Not that either of you were that sad about its less-than-a-season lifespan. Right after that, you snagged the lead in the show was the defining role of your acting life and Dan was able to move on to create his own fashion line. You couldn’t say what your other costars were up to now, but Dan was always – and would always be – a constant in your life.

“Its not that serious,” you said again as you leaned forward on your desk. Dan had come to your office to have dinner with you since he was sure that it wasn’t safe for you to eat out in the open in a crowded restaurant. You know, where witnesses were present.

“See, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure if you’re aware of the actual definition of serious.” Dan folded his hands and pulled up on his knee as he crossed his legs. “The phone callss might be passable, but the package of pig’s blood with old magazine articles about you isn’t as easily overlooked.”

“I get it. I really do. But I like how my life is right now. I don’t want to think about that pompous brat of an actress I was.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dan held up a finger, “you weren’t that bad because I never would have been your friend if you were.” Now a second finger. “Second of all, you can’t control other people, honey. I don’t know why they’re suddenly fixated on you after nearly eight years, but they are. And you have to deal with it.” A cheeky look came across his face as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Besides, you never know. Maybe this Park guy will be handsome and the two of you will fall in love while he protects you from the axe wielding maniac.”

You gave him your best deadpan look. “You’ve watched The Bodyguard too many times.”

“Whitney Houston is an icon. She created one of the greatest ballads of all time with that movie.”

“Actually, the song was originally written by Dolly Parton.”

Dan jumped at the third voice, nearly spilling his wine. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t leave the glass, and he was wearing black pants anyway.

Standing in your open doorway was a man in a sharp black suit with a simple cut. It was the causal kind, like your father never wore. Hair almost as dark as the suit was parted on the side and slicked back away from his forehead. The smallest of smirks rested in the corner of his mouth, giving a little bit of light to his otherwise serious expression.

Surprised that he finally showed up after waiting all day, you stood to your feet and walked over to your new bodyguard. You held out your hand for him to take. It was a strong grip, but not so much so that it was intimidating. He kept eye contact with you, but in a way that was creepy or uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). My name is Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom already informed you that I was assigned to watch over you until this stalker is caught.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dan hopped up from his seat and came to stand beside you. With his own hand stretched out, he took the liberty of introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Daniel Larken. The fashion designer? You might have heard of me.”

Jinyoung shook his hand, obviously amused by the forwardness. “The one with the reflective suits?”

“It’s actually a shimmer sewn in with the thread,” Dan corrected.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Dan, smirking. He was enjoying this. Well, at least one of you would be. And now that Dan was fully onboard, there was no one left to stand by you. It was official. You were stuck with this Park Jinyoung. As long as he agreed to stay out of your way and not completely upend your life, then this shouldn’t be too bad of an arrangement.

With a brewing smile of his own, Dan turned to you. “I want one.”

You crossed your arms sternly. “No.”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Reasons Doug’s Pretty Great

It’s hard to believe that it’s been nine years since the first episode of S1 was released. I can still remember be a wee little lass first discovering it on youtube and becoming obsessed. At the time, I had no where to play it myself, so I watched as many playthroughs as I could until my family got an xbox. 

While the first episode in this series has a lot of memorable moments, the one that always stands out in people’s memories is the moment where you’re trying to escape the drugstore as walkers pound away at the door and windows, and you realize that both Carley and Doug need your help or they’re going to die. 

But... you can only save one, and whoever you don’t help, they end up being eaten alive by walkers and you get to feel bad about it for the rest of the episode. 

I bring this up because it’s interesting to look back nine years ago and see that... well, not a lot of people saved Doug. Which is crazy, because now the stats are pretty 50/50 with Doug even having a bit of an edge over Carley. That definitely wasn’t the case back then because the stats were more along the line of 20/80.

Why? Well, the writer’s didn’t exactly do the best job of showing how great Doug is in ep1, especially compared to Carley who has more interactions with Lee and more screen time.... which is even funnier because they did actually think they did a good job and were surprised by the results after the episode’s release.

Even back then they had a habit of making imbalanced routes then denying the imbalance... something they never grew out of. 

I guess they were a little butthurt about it since Doug is a favorite among the team given that he’s actually based on a real person, Doug Tabacco, an IT guy they worked with. This got to the point where Telltale never missed an opportunity to tell everyone to #SaveDoug over Carley.

I also love that they use the Stranger to guilt trip everyone who saved Carley by having him be like, “Doug was in a worse position! >:( You only saved Carley because she was a pretty girl!!” just.... real subtle, guys haha

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that more often than not, I choose to save Carley over Doug for many reasons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate Doug and enjoy having him around in the off chance I do save him. So I thought it’d be fun to talk about Doug as a character and why he was pretty great as a little tribute, y’know? 

5. Doug’s a pretty funny dude

Now, I wouldn’t exactly call twdg a comedy, y’know? It gets dark, then manages to get even darker at times, but if the game was nothing but doom and gloom, it’d get boring and become unenjoyable. 

While other characters do get a laugh out of me from time to time, I enjoy the humor that Doug brings to the group, even if it’s not intentional and just the way he is. 

Even from the beginning, Doug had me chuckling with the fact that this nerdy dude didn’t want to bring profanity to Lee’s ears when talking about Larry, so he’s just like “ He's kind of a dick... pardon my french,” like Doug.... it’s okay, you can call him an asshole, no one will judge hahaha.

Then there’s the biscuit scene that I think we all know and love. Helps break the tension of meeting these weirdo’s who own a dairy and are totally not suspicious or anything. 

But it’s not even just that Doug is funny, he’s also a character that gets you to crack a smile when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about, or when he’s proud of the alarm he rigged up, or when he’s being adorably awkward. 

One of my favorites is in ep3 when Lee goes to ask Doug if he has any chalk, and he goes into this spiel about charcoal-- “You know, a piece of charcoal is a suitable alternative, depending on your marking surface. Since we're on the subject, did you know that while chalk is traditionally known to be calcium carbonate, what's often used in classrooms is actually made of gypsum, thanks to favorable domestic mining conditions?”

And Lee’s response is just-- “Doug, I did not know that.”

“Happy to be of service.”

It’s just really funny... and it makes you feel better after all the implications about Doug’s mental health in the episode... like you gave him a moment to flex his knowledge and get excited about it. 

But yeah, what can I say? Doug makes me laugh and he brings a bit of light to the groups constant shitshow. 

4. Doug saved the group’s ass at the St John farm

And he did so with a laser pointer. 

I always hate it when Doug/Carley leave the group at the St Johns and remain absent for most of the episode, though I chalk that up to the writers trying to make the different routes easier on themselves, y’know? 

But, at least they come back to save the day. 

In Doug’s case, he’s not comfortable with guns like Carley is, so he’s gotta get creative when it comes to getting Lee’s attention and stopping Andy from hurting Duck and Lee. 

That’s where his fancy little laser pointer comes in. 

We first see him with it during the walk to the farm, but then see it in action after Lee escapes the barn and is nearly blinded by the light. Doug claims he was doing morse code before Lee tells him and Ben that these assholes cut off Mark’s legs and tried to feed them to the group. 

Now, here’s the thing... If Doug and Ben had done what they were told and stayed at the motor inn over night, things probably wouldn’t have turned out so good for the group. Doug is the one who shines the laser pointer in Andy’s eyes when he’s got ahold of Duck, giving Lee the advantage of attack. Without that, if Lee tried anything, he would’ve ended up like dingdong Kenny with a bullet in his side. 

Also there’s just a lot of bravery from Doug, y’know? Like as soon as he finds Lee and knows the situation, the first thing he asks is what can they do to help, and he sticks around to do what he can.... even if it is just to point a laser in someone’s eye. 

No one gives Doug enough credit for savin’ the day, y’know? And if you have any doubt, even Lee says, “I never thought a laser pointer would be the thing that saved our lives.”

3. Doug’s friendship with Lee

Speaking of Lee, his friendship with Doug is underrated. The two have chemistry and work off each other well in the scene’s they’re in. While it’s not as strong as Carley’s in ep1, saving Doug and having around in ep2 & ep3 lets you see it at it’s best, y’know? 

After Lee saves his life at the drugstore, Doug is shown to mourn Carley and asks Lee why he would pick him, lamenting that he wished he had picked her over him and you can tell that Doug feels that he owes Lee a lot for saving him. Hell, he even says as much when Lee tries to give him food in ep2-- “Why don't you keep my share today. I know I said it didn't matter why you saved me and not Carley, but... I owe you a lot more than half a day's rations."

Also, I love this one line from Kenny when you’re on bad terms with him and they’re talking about going separate ways where he’s basically like “We all know Doug’s gonna stay with you because you saved him that ONE time >:(” and on top of it being such a bitchy Kenny line, it also shows that every can see that Doug is a loyal friend to Lee and would want to stick with him where ever he decides to go. 

One thing that I think people tend to overlook, though, is how concerned Lee is with Doug’s mental health in ep3. There are implications that Doug might be suffering with depression due to the situation of the walkers, bandits harrassing and threatening them, and believing that he isn’t useful to the group, stating that he feel pretty worthless. Lee asks Clementine if he seems sad, and hell, he even talks to Lilly about it.

In fact, speaking of Clementine, Doug is real sweet with her, too. Of course, he gives her those batteries for her walkie, but he also asks about how she’s doing as they’re leaving the dairy. Hell, 8 years later, Clementine still remembers him by name and how sweet he was when fucking dingdong Lilly can’t remember his damn name. That says a lot. 

Y’all know how important Clementine is to Lee, so he wouldn’t have grown as close to Doug if he wasn’t a genuinely good person who treated Clementine with kindess. 

I dunno, there’s a lot of trust and care between the two and it’s a relationship that I truly love. I just wish we could’ve seen a bit more of it but y’know...#2 happened. 

2. Doug saved Ben’s life

Yeah, I think we all saw this coming...

Look, doesn’t matter what you think about Ben, okay? Not what we’re talkin’ about. We’re talkin’ about Doug saving Ben’s life, which unfortunately meant ending his own.

Still haven’t forgiven Lilly for this one. Though I’ve always found the difference between Doug and Carley’s death’s interesting. With Carley, Lilly intentionally kills her after Carley tells her off. But with Doug, Lilly was aiming for Ben and even when Doug pulled him out of the way, she still fired the gun... even though she didn’t have a clear shot and ended up hitting Doug. 

Then she tries to play it off like it was an accident which, yeah I guess it was but that doesn’t change that you were intending to murder this 6ft tall child. 

It’s just... I dunno, man, it’s sad. I always feel more sorrow for Doug’s death, but more anger for Carley’s? Even though both make me angry, it’s just different characters, different things that led to their deaths, different feelings. This is the first real “Fuck you, Lilly” moment for me and she can spend the next 8 years wandering around for all I can. 

Doug didn’t deserve this shit. 

But, the reason I put this at #2 because it really says a lot about Doug as a character. The second he saw Lilly aim that gun, he yanked Ben out of the way. He could’ve gone into shock, he could’ve just yelled “no!”, or he could’ve gone at Lilly instead.... but no, his first instinct was to grab Ben and move himself in front and it really fucking sucks that that’s what killed him. 

And y’know this isn’t the first time Doug has put himself in danger to save someone. I already talked about him saving everyone at the dairy, but can we not forget how he and Carley met? She was gonna get eaten by walkers then our big hero Doug came in and saved her?? Didn’t know her or anything, just saw her and her crew getting attacked and did what he could to save any survivors?? 

Like... no one talks about that because it’s so played off and never brought up again and I need everyone to remember this, okay? 

Doug selflessly putting himself in danger to help those around him? Fantastic. Beautiful. Love that.

1. Look, Doug himself is just #1. His personality, intelligence, everything.

Wow, Doug’s personality being the #1 reason he’s so great? Who woulda thought?

Well, ME woulda thought because obviously.

Listen... in case you haven’t gather this from the previous four entries, Doug is an intelligent, awkward, caring, selfless, funny, and brave man, okay? He’s likable, he tries his damnedest to pull his weight for the group, he shows actual loyalty and kindness unlike some people, and when he tends to avoid the constant Lilly and Kenny conflicts, he does his best to step in when things take a serious turn, hence the Ben situation. 

No to mention the dude is smart. 

I mean, he really took a random remote and was like, “Oh it’s universal, let me just program it to work on ALL the random TV’s across the street as a way to distract these walkers!” like dude.... you just know how to do that, huh? 

Or his fun little bell trap that alerts the groups of strangers and walkers? Oh, and remember when he fixed the RV by hitting it with a fucking hammer and was like “It works now, drive!” 

And have I mentioned that he bested Andy St John with a goddamn laser pointer?? 

Oh, also wanna add that I really like his voice acting, as well. He’s voiced by Sam Joan, who does a good job at selling Doug’s soft-spoken but intelligent nature, and knows how to pull off “dorky” when needed... and I mean that in a good way, when he’s talking about charcoal Doug is being a dork and I love him.

I mean... what else is there to say?

All that’s left to do is pull a Telltale and--

#SaveDoug

---

Honorable Mentions

-Doug is a pie guy, going off of that time he named all the different kinds of pie he could thing of and I feel that.  -He’s a very fashionable person. I want that weird polar bear deer thing shirt he wears in ep1.  -also, you can’t go wrong with socks and sandals, my dude.  -He had a crush on Carley and honestly, I feel that, too. 

---

There it is, there’s my whole thing about Doug. What are your thoughts? When it comes to that choice in ep1 of s1, do you save Doug or do you save Carley? Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Snap Part 3

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Warnings: roman angst and everything that goes with it. self-esteem issues, self-hatred, insecurity. sympathetic everyone

Pairings: roceit, platonic DLAMPR

Word Count: 4446

Most things in life are flexible to some degree. You can push and pull and bend them in certain ways and, to some extent, they will comply with you. There are some things that you can bend and bend and bend. Creativity is one of these things. Creativity, imagination, dreams...they can be shaped and changed into whatever you want.

Bend...and bend...and bend...until they snap.

They’re in the living room. Everyone is doing…something. Remus isn’t paying a whole lot of attention to anything but rewrapping his grip on his morning star and the gentle press of Roman’s leg against his. Every now and then, Roman will reach over and lay his hand on Remus’s knee. Remus always reaches out to cover it.

 “Come on, Princey!”

 That gets Remus’s attention. He looks up to see Roman shaking his head, Patton staring at him with pleading eyes.

 “Just one?”

 “No thank you,” Roman says softly, “I...I’d rather not do it today.”

 “What isn’t happening today?” Logan closes his book.

 “Princey doesn’t want to do the brainstorm,” Virgil huffs crossing his arms.

 Logan frowns. “It has to be done soon,” he insists, “otherwise it will put Thomas behind schedule.”

 “We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Logan,” Roman mumbles, “it’s not like this is a normal thing.”

 “It is important to look after ourselves first,” Janus agrees with a quick glance at Roman, “especially now more than ever.”

 Virgil squints at him. “Why’re you suddenly so on board?”

 “It couldn’t be because I’m trying to maintain Thomas’s mental health.”

 Patton tilts his head. “I think Virgil’s right...is there another reason you don’t want to do this, Roman?”

 Roman glances at Janus and sighs. “Yes. I don’t want to.”

 “..is,” Logan says hesitantly, “is that it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Well, forgive me—“ Remus growls low in his throat— “but that sounds a little...selfish.”

 Remus growls again. These fucking idiots.

 “Yeah, kiddo,” Patton says, giving Roman a small smile, “it does.”

 “Didn’t we just establish that wasn’t inherently bad?” Roman buries his face in his hands and for a moment, Remus readies himself to chase the others out. Then Roman sits up.

 “I...I can’t do it. Not yet.”

 Virgil frowns. “What do you mean, ‘not yet?’”

 Roman gives Remus’s hand a quick squeeze. Then he stands up. “Not yet.”

 Remus can’t help the surge of pride that shoots through him as Roman sinks out.

 Virgil glances around. “Does anyone have any idea what the fuck just happened?”

 “I…” Patton hugs himself. “I don’t know.”

 “Perhaps something happened,” Logan says, “and Roman is upset by it.”

 “Why the fuck wouldn’t he just say that, then?” Virgil shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Princey’s being dramatic, but…”

 “He’d been doing so well,” Patton agrees, “I don’t know what happened.”

 Remus glares at Janus, daring him to say something. Janus just shifts in his chair. Fucking snake.

 “Remus?” What does Logan want with him? “Are you prepared to have the brainstorm session?”

 Are you fucking serious? “Shouldn’t we wait until Roman’s ready?”

 “Who knows how long that’ll be,” Virgil mutters.

 “We can at least get started,” Logan reasons, “and it’s not as if we’ve failed to perform with—“

 Remus raises an eyebrow when Logan cuts himself off. “No, no, please, finish your sentence.”

 “…one Creativity,” Logan mumbles, “my apologies, Remus.”

 Remus sits back, forcing himself to put down his morning star. “Why was it so easy for you to apologize to me?”

 Logan frowns. “Because I made an offensive comment. That warrants an apology.”

 “Mm.”

 Logan falters. God, these guys can be so slow.

 “Not yet,” he prompts, “why would Roman say that?”

 Remus looks around, sees a load of empty faces. “No? No takers? Come on, let’s give you some prompting.”

 It takes barely a flick of his hand to create suspenseful countdown music, gleeful fury rising as the other sides begin to panic, shifting around like they should say something but having absolutely no idea what. Remus pouts.

 “Aww, you’re outta time!”

 “Remus,” Logan huffs, “if you know, why don’t you just tell us?”

 “Because I shouldn’t fucking have to!”

 Remus growls, glaring at one Side after another. “I shouldn’t have to tell you why Roman’s upset. I shouldn’t have to tell you why he didn’t want to tell you. I shouldn’t have to because you should’ve paid attention.”

 “R-Remus?” Patton twists his hands together. “C-can you tell us anyway?”

 Patton shrinks under the glare that Remus gives him, Virgil stepping in front of him. “Fine. Just because nothing will get better unless I do.”

 “…thanks.”

 “What is Roman,” Remus asks, planting his hands on his hips, “what is he?”

 “C-creativity?”

 “What else?”

 Virgil frowns. “Thomas’s hopes and dreams?”

 “What else?”

 “Passion,” Logan tries, “romance?”

 Remus huffs, turning to stare at Janus. Janus hasn’t moved, his hands balled up in his lap, his head bowed.

 “The ego,” Janus mumbles, “Roman is the ego.”

 “Correct!”

 “Roman’s what?” Patton glances between Remus and Janus.

 “Makes sense,” Virgil mutters, only for Remus’s head to spin exorcist-style around to glare at him.

 “And why, Plain White V,” Remus says sweetly, “would that ‘make sense?’”

 Virgil shuffles.

 “Could it be because Roman is dramatic? Could it be that you see him as self-obsessed? Or maybe—“ Remus fake-gasps, covering his mouth— “it’s because an ego is a bad thing?”

 “Stop it,” Virgil mutters, “stop it, Remus.”

 “An ego isn’t a bad thing,” Logan says quickly, “it is a sense of self, especially when contrasted to another self or world. In psychology, the ego typically refers to your own image and opinions of yourself as the active mediator of trying to accomplish the wishes of your unconscious mind within the boundaries of the real world.”

 Logan freezes. “…oh.”

 “Yes,” Remus mutters, “oh.”

 “R-Roman needs a structure,” Logan says weakly, closing his eyes, “a—a role that he can play to do his job. He…he is shaped directly by what others think of him.”

 “Now you’re getting it.” Remus claps when Virgil goes even paler behind his foundation.

 “Thomas’s sense of self,” he mumbles, “R-Roman’s sense of self…”

 Remus stands victoriously in the middle of the room, watching the horror and realization dawn on their faces.

 “Roman doesn’t know who he is anymore,” Remus growls, “because everything he’s ever had has been ripped away from him. And it’s not like he has the strength to do anything about it.”

 “I truly hesitate to ask this,” Logan mumbles, “but…why not?”

 Remus looks at Janus and raises an eyebrow.

 “The ego is kept healthy by positive affirmations and care,” Janus says, still refusing to make eye contact.

 “And you’ve done such a fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” Remus tries not to delight in the way Janus flinches.

 “B-but—“ Oh. Patton’s crying. “—we love him.”

 Remus laughs. He throws his head back and lets the cackles ring around the room, not caring that they get so loud it doubles back and makes him want to split his own skull open.

 “Do you? Do you really?” Remus spreads his arms wide, gesturing at the Roman-less living room. “Do you even know the extent of what you’ve done to him?”

 He points an accusing finger at Patton. “You forced him into a role he never asked for, one that he’s long since forgotten how to stop playing. You scold him for daring to express an opinion different to yours and guilt-trip him into compliance.”

 He turns to Logan. “You tear him apart every chance you get. You think it’s hard not being listened to? You think it’s hard being silenced? Then you should know how it feels when someone dismisses you without hearing you out. Let alone telling them they don’t deserve to feel that way.”

 Virgil cowers when Remus looks at him. “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve insulted Roman? Any idea? At all? No? Here’s a better question. Do you know how many times Roman’s sniped back and he’s the only one who has to apologize? Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re the only one who doesn’t fucking apologize.”

 “And you.”

 Janus winces.

 “Look at me.”

 Aw, that’s cute. Janus is crying too. Too bad.

 Remus doesn’t bother to hide his contempt. “What is your job?”

 Janus mumbles something.

 “Louder.”

 “To protect the ego.”

 “And what,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, “have you been doing instead?”

 “I apologized,” Janus tries weakly.

 “What for?”

 “For calling Roman the evil twin. For comparing him to you.”

 Remus scoffs. “No wonder he said ‘not yet.’”

 The snake flinches.

 “You apologized—“ Remus takes a step forward— “for the last straw. And you let everything else get swept under the carpet. You set him up to take the fall no matter what happened in that courtroom—don’t pretend you didn’t, you put the gavel in his hand—you spent the whole time buttering him up, you made fun of his name first, and you strung him along like your favorite little puppet.”

 Remus bends down, forcing Janus to look right at him.

 “You knew exactly what you were doing,” he whispers, “and you didn’t care.”

 He turns to look at Patton again. “You love him? Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Whether or not you do, you still did this to him.”

 Remus takes a deep breath.

 “There is one reason you are all not currently splattered across the walls,” he says in a perfectly calm voice, “and that is because Roman does not want you hurt. That is the only reason I am being very calm right now.”

 “…what do we do,” Patton whispers, tears still running down his face, “what do we do?”

 “Here’s a thought,” Remus growls, “why don’t you think about what you make Roman do?”

 “Listen,” Logan says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

 Virgil fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “…apologize.”

 Patton shuffles and hugs himself. “Do better.”

 They all turn to look at Janus.

 Janus clenches his fists in his lap as he looks up, hot guilty tears standing on his cheeks. “Care.”

 “Good.” Remus takes one look at the rest of them. “Mess this up, and I won’t give you another chance.”

 He sinks out.

 Janus buries his face in his hands. He can hear the others muttering worriedly to each other, can hear Patton sniffling and Virgil zipping and unzipping his hoodie. There’s a horrible black pit in his stomach that won’t go away, the guilt simmering patiently at the back of his throat.

  Pathetic.

  Worthless.

  You’ll never be accepted now, you can’t ever have them, look what you’ve done.

 The words pile up, burning his ears, the guilt filling his head so much that it takes a moment for him to realize how bitter his mouth tastes. Then realizes he’s hearing another voice say those words too.

 The others startle a little when he stands up, jaw set.

 Remus was right. He knew exactly what he was doing because he knows Roman. For better or for worse, he knows him. And he’s been abusing that for as long as he can remember.

 Time to change that.

  By the time someone knocks on Roman’s door, Roman’s already worked himself in and out of at least three different freak-outs, trying his best to keep them as low as possible so he doesn’t accidentally summon Virgil.

 The knock comes.

 “Come in,” he says instantly, only to wince a moment later.

 “…second chance?”

  Janus.

 Roman falters. He doesn’t really want anyone in his room right now, he’s…he’s not ready to do the brainstorm session, but he craves the gentle affection Janus has been showing him recently. Especially after this morning.

 “…come in, please.”

 His door swings open, revealing Janus, fiddling with something in his hands. Roman stands up, wobbling slightly.

 “Don’t get up,” Janus says softly, shutting the door, “I’ll come to you.”

 Roman sits, watching Janus walk to stand in front of him, tucking the thing he’d been fiddling with into some mysterious pocket. Then he carefully reaches out, hand hovering in front of his head.

 “May I?”

 Roman nods only to positively melt the next second when Janus cards his hand through Roman’s hair, fingers scratching across his scalp. Distantly, he hears Janus chuckle, another hand joining the first.

 He must be losing it, or at least significantly more off his game than he normally is, because he thinks he hears Janus murmuring to him.

 “Aren’t you lovely,” he thinks he hears, “that’s it…relax, sweetie, let me hold your head.”

 Well…maybe?

 Roman warily lets his head droop, leaning further into the touch, only to have a second pair of hands cup his head. He takes a shuddering breath, letting the warm touches wash over him. It feels so warm.

 “J-Janus?”

 “Yes, sweetie?”

 “Can you…a l-little to the left?”

 “Here?”

 “Hhhh.”

 Janus chuckles, focusing on the spot just below the crown of Roman’s head. “Does that feel good, sweetie?”

 Roman hums, easily getting lost in the gentle touches, the soft voice.

 W-wait.

 “…stop.”

 The hands freeze. “What?”

  “Stop.”

 The hands are gone. Roman takes a deep breath, trying to fight off the wave of stopdon’tnocomeback that rushes through his chest before looking up at Janus. The worried look on his face is almost enough to get Roman to cave.

 Almost.

 “What are you doing?”

 Janus frowns. “I’m trying to look after you.”

 “Why?”

 The frown deepens and Janus reaches out for him again, stopping when Roman draws back. “Because I want to.”

 “What do you want?”

 “To take care of you, Roman, like I just…” Janus’s eyes widen. “…oh, honey, do you think I’m only taking care of you so you’ll do what I want?”

 Roman looks away. “You know the answer to that.”

 He closes his eyes, expecting Janus to scoff, to turn away, or to just tell him what it is that he actually wants. He hears the soft sounds of rustling fabric, then—

 “I’m sorry.”

  What?

 Roman stares, eyes wide. Janus finishes tucking his gloves into his pocket and nervously adjusts his hat. The scales on his hand glimmer in the faint light of Roman’s room.

 “…what?”

 “I’m sorry,” Janus repeats, “for everything. F-for using you. For manipulating you. For letting you think everything was your fault. And for not doing my job.”

 “Y-your what?”

 Janus reaches for him again, pleading, and Roman lets him gently cup his cheek. His scales are smooth, cold, and he shudders.

 “My job,” Janus repeats in a hoarse whisper, “is to protect you. To take care of you. And I have been failing miserably.”

 Is…is Janus’s hand…trembling?

 “I used your insecurities to manipulate you,” comes the whisper, “to…to isolate you and make you easier to control. I let the others constantly undermine you, convince you that you had no idea what was right and what was wrong, made you reliant on them.”

 Roman’s heart clenches at how horrified of himself Janus sounds, how the hand on his cheek touches him like he’s something precious, like Janus is afraid he’ll ruin him if he touches him wrong.

 “I have hurt you.” Janus’s thumb strokes lightly across his skin. “And I have never, ever, apologized for it. So I’m doing that now.”

 Janus presses his hand there for a moment longer, then pulls his hand away. Roman can’t stop the wounded noise that escapes his throat at the loss of contact, nor can Janus help flinching at the noise.

 Three long seconds pass, each wanting the other to reach out, do something, say something.

 “I…I am not asking you to forgive me,” Janus manages, “not now. Not right away. N-not ever, if you don’t want.”

  No…no—

 “But I am willing to do what it takes to earn it,” he finishes, clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head, “both your forgiveness and your trust.”

 “…th..that’s what you want?”

 Janus peers up at him. “…yes, Roman. That’s all I want.”

 “…s-so…”

 Janus sighs. “If you wanted to, you could throw me out of your room right now. You could yell at me, scream at me, call me every awful name you can think of. I wouldn’t stop you.”

 “…do you want me to?”

 “It’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

 Roman frowns. “Second chance?”

 Janus’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “W-what?”

 “Second chance?”

 “I—I…” Janus sighs again. “…I would prefer it if you didn’t. But this isn’t about what I want, Roman.”

 Roman swallows, still overwhelmed by Janus’s apology. It’s…it’s so much more than he ever expected to get. And yet…even hearing Janus say all the awful things he’s done, it doesn’t change the fact that Janus is the only one apart from Remus that makes Roman feel like it’s okay to want something.

 “I…” Janus looks at him intently. “I want…”

 “Say it,” Janus whispers when Roman hesitates, “go on, Roman, say it.”

 “…I want you to take care of me,” Roman whispers, shame burning his face, only to be chased away by cool scales against his skin.

 “May I—“

 “Please.”

 As soon as Roman chokes out the word, the hands are back. Tangling in his hair, stroking his face, holding his head securely. This time, Roman doesn’t fight it, sinking into Janus as much as he can, feeling the hands drift down to rub at his shoulders, drawing little patterns into his back. Janus keeps murmuring to him the whole time.

 “It’s okay, Roman,” he says, finding that spot on Roman’s head again, “I’m right here, I’m right here, I’m not going to hurt you…don’t fret, it’s alright, sweetie.”

 Roman reaches out and fists Janus’s cloak, tugging the other side closer.

 “I’m so proud of you, honey, you made me so proud today…you stood up for yourself and what you wanted, you did so well, you’ve been so strong…”

 “J-Janus?”

 “Yes, my prince, I’m right here, what can I do?”

 “It—it hurts.”

 “What hurts, honey, where does it hurt?”

 “Everything,” Roman cries, the dam finally shattering in the face of all of this, “everything hurts, I want—I want—“

 “Yes, honey, you’re allowed to want, come on now…”

 A sob chokes out of his throat and he’s gone.

 Janus holds him through it, never shushing him, letting him get every single drop out, murmuring soft encouragement that pulls it out of him like some terrible poison. Roman bawls into his chest, letting the prince, the performer, the actor, the good twin shatter, leaving Roman, just Roman, crying in the arms of someone he loves.

 When it’s over, when he can’t move, can hardly breathe from how much, when he sags into Janus’s arms, he feels…lighter.

 “You did so well, sweetie,” Janus says softly into his ear, “so well. That was a lot, wasn’t it?”

 Roman nods, his throat exhausted. “…there’s more.”

 “You get it all out then. I’m not going anywhere.”

 “…I…I…”

 “Talk to me,” Janus pleads, “you can talk to me, honey, I won’t tell a soul, let me care for you.”

 Roman tucks his head against Janus’s shoulder and breathes. Janus is slightly cool to the touch, his cloak is soft. He rubs his cheek against the fabric. His tired brain manages to come up with the word ‘safe.’

 “Of course you’re safe,” comes the instant murmur, “I’ll keep you safe.”

 Roman hates his traitorous brain for instantly flashing will you?

 It’s barely noticeable, a hitch that lasts scarcely more than half a second, but Roman, pressed right up against Janus with Janus’s chin on top of his head, notices.

 “S-sorry—“

 “Don’t,” Janus says immediately, a scaled hand tenderly cupping Roman’s cheek, “you needn’t apologize. I…haven’t exactly given you much reason to trust me.”

 Roman gently bonks his head against Janus’s. “This.”

 He feels more than sees Janus’s sad smile. “And that’s supposed to make everything better, is it?”

 He has a point.

  Doesn’t he always?

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, slow breath. Then another. On the third one, he pulls away. Janus lets him go, lets him sit up, and scrub his hands over his face.

 “No,” he says finally, “it doesn’t make everything better.”

 Janus sits there quietly.

 “I’m angry,” Roman murmurs, “I’m so angry with you. With a-all of you, but especially you.”

 No response.

 “It’s like…it’s like I’m constantly watching myself in third person. I—I have to make sure I’m always playing the role right, that my voice is right, my words are right, because you don’t want me unless I’m always right, you won’t—“

 Roman’s voice chokes off. He swallows the lump in his throat.

 “…you won’t love me if I’m not right.”

 He bows his head, hair flopping in his face, twisting his hands together.

 “And I’m so mad right now because I have so many reasons to be mad at you and I am mad at you and I can’t fucking think of any of them because all I want to do is beg you to take care of me and never let me go.”

 He tangles his hands in his hair and pulls, despite Janus’s soft noise of protest.

 “I hate you,” Roman mumbles, “I hate you.”

 He pulls harder.

 “But not as much as I h-hate myself for loving you.”

 His eyes slip shut as yet more tears well up behind his lids. He squeezes them tighter, taking shuddering breath after shuddering breath.

 “I love you,” he says through the breaths, “I love you so much it hurts and it’s everything I know and I’m so angry that I can’t stay angry and I can’t—I can’t—“

 He rakes his nails down his face, leaving angry red lines.

 “Why can’t I stop,” he whispers, “why can’t I stop loving you?”

 “Hate and love aren’t opposites,” comes the hoarse murmur from beside him, “the opposite of love is indifference.”

 “I don’t want to be indifferent toward you.”

 He hears Janus shuffle around and keeps his eyes shut. If he looks…if he looks and sees Janus’s face he won’t get to say the things he needs to say.

 “Why did you change,” he asks suddenly, “what…what made you change?”

 “…you did, Roman.” Roman can’t stop the scoff. “I’m serious. You…that day. When you…snapped, it made me realize something.”

 “What?”

 “That you were far better at pretending than I thought.”

 Janus shifts on the bed.

 “…I thought your hurt would be loud. Brash. Uncompromising. I thought you were the type to sing it to the heavens, shout it from the rooftops. But it’s…it’s not. It’s quiet. It’s solemn. It’s…it’s resigned.” He takes a breath. “And you weren’t even that angry that day. You were just…exhausted.”

 The bed shifts.

 “And you were right.”

 Roman shakes his head slowly from side to side, feeling his hair swing back and forth. “I want to trust you. I do. A-and I’m trying to.”

 “Let me earn it,” Janus says immediately, “let me—let me show you.”

 “I want to,” he says, the vulnerable shake in Janus’s voice tugging on his heartstrings.

 “…second chance?”

 Roman sighs. “I do want to, Janus, but I…I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I—I don’t want to start trusting you again only to have everyone tell me it’s wrong.”

 “If it helps,” Janus says gently, “it’s highly unlikely.”

 “Don’t lie to me right now,” Roman says, “please.”

 “My gloves are off,” Janus reminds, “I’m not lying. And…I did just come from the others.”

 Roman opens his eyes, staring at Janus who smiles gently.

 “Remus…helped us understand,” he says, “how much we’ve hurt you.” He tilts his head. “He loves you, Roman.”

 “I love him too,” Roman mumbles.

 “We—we promised we’d do better,” Janus says, “not just for you, but for…for all of us. And we agreed that starts with making things right with you.”

 Roman can’t help the traitorous flutter of hope in his chest. The scar tissue around his heart burns, the hope pressing up against the damaged nerves, threatening to leave him breathless.

 “When you’re ready,” Janus continues softly, “the others want to apologize to you too. Logan wants to help you figure out what you want. Virgil wants to learn how to recognize when you need help. And I’m fairly certain Patton wants to cuddle you into next week.”

 “N-now?”

 “No.” Janus shakes his head. “Not now. Not if you don’t want to.”

 “…I don’t want to.”

 “Then you won’t.” He hesitates, then slowly reaches for Roman’s hand on the blanket. Roman lets him take it, feeling the subtle shake of Janus’s fingers. “…thank you, Roman.”

 Roman blinks. “For what?”

 “This,” Janus says, squeezing Roman’s hand lightly, “for trusting me with all of this.”

 Roman nods, only for his hair to flop in his face and completely ruin the moment. Janus chuckles as he tries to blow the offending clump away, only for it to resolutely stay exactly where it is. He huffs. Rude.

 “Here,” Janus says before he can reach up to move it away, “let me?”

 Roman nods, expecting Janus to reach up and move it himself, and maybe run his hand through his hair a few times, but Janus reaches into his pocket and takes out…a hairclip? Is that what he’d been fiddling with?

 Janus holds it up so he can see it and Roman’s breath catches in his throat. It’s…it’s a slender clip, in his signature red, with a tiny golden crown on the end. Janus lets him look, then slowly brushes Roman’s hair back, lifting the clip up and gently clipping Roman’s hair out of the way, brushing any lingering strands to the side.

 “There…” He looks back down at Roman’s face. “Now I can see you.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 “I know this doesn’t fix everything,” Janus murmurs, cupping Roman’s face in his hands again, “but…I hope it’s a start.”

 Roman swallows. “It’s a start.”

 Janus smiles. Then it fades as he slowly leans forward, resting his forehead against Roman’s, both of their eyes falling shut.

 “We love you,” Janus whispers, “I love you.”

 Roman should want to say it. But the scar tissue around his heart groans in protest. Still, he opens his mouth.

 “Don’t,” Janus says softly, resting his finger lightly against Roman’s lips, “not like this. Let me earn it.”

 “…I’ve already told you, though.”

 “You have,” Janus agrees, even though he doesn’t move his finger, “but let me earn it.”

 He presses his mouth to Roman’s forehead.

 “Let me earn you.”

 The soft brush of lips against his skin and the sincerity in Janus’s voice makes Roman’s head spin. “…earn me?”

 “Yes, my prince,” Janus murmurs, “let me show you. Let us show you.”

 Roman closes his eyes. He wants that. He wants Janus to show him. He wants Patton to cuddle him. He wants Logan to talk things through with him. He wants Virgil to know when he needs things. He wants.

 He wants.

 And for once, for once, when he wants, the voice in his ear doesn’t say he’s an awful person for wanting, that he’s pathetic, that he’s wrong for wanting.

 Instead, when Janus pulls away a little bit, and asks Roman if that’s alright, if that’s something he wants, Roman answers.

  Yes.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @marshmallow-fluffy @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul

Snap Taglist: @romanvirgil @arodynamic-enby @meandmacats @the-sunshine-dims @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @sweet-hibiscus-tea-art @frida0043 @mk-wastebin @princemesscharming @cali-the-dreamer @lovesupernova25

[writtenmemxries]

You’re the bee’s knees.

Some fluff to heal our souls after that Variety interview that killed us all. :)

Also... what if I created a tag list? Would anyone want to be added? 

[Destiel; set in 15x14; 1.6k words]

“This is stupid,” Dean muttered to himself as he looked at one of the big tables in the bunker, on which Mrs. Butters had displayed dozens of coloured sheets of paper, glitter, glue, and many other decorative things that he found simply disgusting.

“This is fucking stupid.”

Mrs. Butters gave him a fiery look.

Dean rolled his eyes and raised his hands in surrender. “Right. Sorry. Language.”

He sighed, glancing back at the table that looked like a kindergarten child’s desk. “I’m not gonna do this.”

“Why not?” Jack asked. He had already sat down and was now fiddling with the coloured sheets, looking for a yellow one, his favourite colour.

Dean snorted. “Because it’s stupid.”

Jack frowned at him. “Why?”

“Because-” Dean began. He sighed again, shaking his head. “Whatever. It just is.”

He walked resolutely towards the corridor, determined not to take part in that absurd creative activity. It was embarrassing enough that Sam had accepted to do it with a smile. He wasn’t going to be duped by their son’s smile and puppy dog eyes. No way.

“Dean,” Mrs. Butters called. He stopped and turned to look at her. No, she wouldn’t have convinced him either.

“What’s the matter? Valentine’s Day is an important feast day and as such it deserves to be celebrated! After all, love is what keeps us alive, isn’t it?”

Dean snorted a laugh. “No offense Mrs. Butters, but my brother and I- guns are what keeps us alive.”

Mrs. Butters looked at him in shock, an expression of deep sorrow on the round, plump face of the lovely lady who, up until then, had cared for them with such love. Love.

Dean hesitated. He looked at Jack again, then at Sam, who gave him an encouraging smile. Love.

He looked around with undisguised unease. He crossed his arms and sighed, shifting his weight from side to side, then walked over to the table.

“All right. Whatever.”

Jack’s face lit up as he stared at him with those big, loving eyes of his. Love.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Jack asked confused after a bit, looking at the yellow paper in his hands.

Sam smiled. “You make a card.”

“A card,” Jack repeated, frowning.

“Yes Jack, a card. A Valentine Day’s card. Just, it’s a little different from the usual Valentine’s Day.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“How is it different?” Jack asked.

Okay, enough.

“God, kid, you wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day in the first place,” Dean exclaimed, holding a blue card in his hands. “Do you even know what it is?”

Jack looked at him vaguely offended. “Yes. It is the celebration of love.”

Ah, right. Love. Again.

“Yeah Jack, but, you see, it’s usually a couple’s thing. They exchange gifts, they go out to dinner,” Sam said, casting a not-exactly-loving look at his brother. “They give each other cards,” he continued with a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day. God, it never seemed to end.

“Yeah, middle school kids exchange cards,” he muttered sarcastically to himself, but Sam seemed to hear him.

“Dean, can you at least act like you’re having fun? For Jack?” he whispered.

“Look, Sam, this is bullshit and you know it. We’re not primary school kids making silly cards with glue and glitter and drawings. What should we do, write some cheesy pick-up lines?” Dean said annoyed.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well... Yes?”

“Alright. And who are you gonna give it to, Eileen?”

Sam blushed. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I won’t. It’s just for fun. Jack wanted to do this.”

Dean’s gaze softened.

“Does it have to be romantic love? Can’t I make a Valentine’s Day card for you?” Jack interrupted them.

“You do you, kid. But then you’ll give it to Samantha, not me,” Dean replied grinning.

Jack nodded enthusiastically and got to work, fiddling with the glitter, while Sam neatly folded his red card and Mrs. Butters looked at them with a satisfied smile.

Dean turned his attention to the paper in front of him. Blue. Damn, he really was an idiot, what was he even doing?

He glanced nervously at Sam, who was trying to figure out how to open the tube of silver glitter. He bit his lip and hesitantly grabbed a white, blank piece of paper and coloured pencils.

It’s such a stupid thing, he thought. But he said nothing. Instead, he set about drawing a bee. Or at least, something that should have looked like a bee. He hadn’t had much time to practice drawing as a child, y’know, but in the end he could say he was partially satisfied with the result. He glued the smiling bee onto the blue card, tongue between teeth as he worked with extreme precision.

It was stupid, but he wanted it to be perfect. Cas deserved a perfect card, right? Not that he intended to give it to him or that he was thinking about him while drawing, of course. Obviously.

With a big silver felt-tip pen, Dean wrote “You’re the bee’s knees” on the card. He looked at the final result with a faint smile. How stupid. He was stupid. Stupidly in love.

“Bees, huh?” Sam said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Dean silenced him. “It’s just a stupid card. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam said smiling. “I wouldn’t throw it away if I were you, though, Someone might like it, y’know.”

Dean looked at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out. He felt his cheeks heat up and turn red as the thoughts in his head whirled.

No way he was going to give that card to Cas. No way Sam was thinking about that. No way Sam knew.

“I think I’m done!” Jack exclaimed enthusiastically, showing them his drawing.

“This is Castiel,” he explained, pointing to a figure in what looked like a messy trenchcoat. “This is you, Sam,” and he pointed to a tall, long-haired, smiley man that made Sam laugh heartily. “And this is Dean.”

Dean looked at the drawing. “Why am I standing so close to Cas? Wait, are those- dude, did you draw me freakin’ bow-legged?”

Jack looked at him confused. “You always stand so close to Castiel.”

“Okay, I call this a night. Let’s go to bed, Jack,” Sam said, grabbing him gently by the shoulders.

Jack looked at them in confusion. Dean could feel his ears heat up, his heart was thumping uncomfortably in his chest.

“It is a very nice card, my dear,” Mrs. Butter said softly, pointing to the blue card Dean still had in his hands.

With his face on fire, Dean muttered a quick “Thank you” and went to his room. He couldn’t sleep much, however. He kept tossing and turning in bed, thinking of blue eyes and chapped lips, tan trenchcoats and blue ties.

In the dim light, he glanced at the card on the nightstand. 

Stupid bullshit, Dean thought as he stood up. He took the card and, as quietly as possible, he walked to the angel’s room.

When Castiel returned to the bunker three days later - three incredibly busy days later - he was surprised to find a note on his bedside table.

Intrigued, he gently touched the bee that beamed at him on the paper. He ran a finger over the silver writing. “You’re the bee’s knees.” He frowned. Bee’s knees?

His gaze fell to the lower right corner, where he noticed Dean’s name, messily scribbled. He folded the card and slipped it into his pocket.

He headed for the kitchen, where he found Dean leaning against the counter, drinking a beer.

“I found your card,” Castiel said.

Dean didn’t speak. He took another sip of his beer and clenched his jaw.

“I do not understand.”

Dean laughed bitterly. He shouldn’t have given him that stupid piece of paper.

“What’s so hard to understand?”

“Why are you comparing me to bees’ knees?” Castiel asked, squinting.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. “Dude. You can’t be serious.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, confused.

“It’s an expression, Cas. It means you’re great, you’re the best,” Dean sighed.

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a while, embarrassment growing in that uncomfortable silence. Dean was about to leave when Castiel spoke again.

“Why?”

Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The wood nymph- we made some Valentine’s Day cards. I mean, Jack wanted to, y’know, so...” he trailed off. He didn’t dare look Castiel in the eye.

“And you made one for me.”

Dean sighed. “Look, dude, it’s not a big deal, okay, it’s just-” 

“I thought Valentine’s Day was supposed to be the celebration of romance,” Castiel noted, interrupting him.

“Yes Cas. It is.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Castiel said for the second time that night.

Dean shook his head and got another beer. Okay, maybe he needed something stronger to forget about that stupid card. He went for the bottle of whiskey when Castiel spoke.

“Bee my Valentine then.”

Dean whirled around, looking at him with wide eyes. Castiel stood there, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“What?”

“Bee my Valentine,” he repeated.

Dean swallowed. “Are you- are you using a bee pick-up line on me, dude?”

“Perhaps,” Castiel said with a smirk.

Dean laughed. He approached the angel.

“What are we doing, Cas?” he whispered, inches away from his face.

“I believe humans call it flirting, Dean,” Castiel said. His eyes fell to Dean’s lips, which curved into a smile.

“Yeah,” he whispered, grabbing Castiel by the waist. “Fuck that.”

A little uncertain, he brought his lips to Castiel’s, brushing them gently. Castiel sighed content against his lips, bringing his hands to cup Dean’s cheeks in a desperate effort to pull him closer.

They kissed and kissed and kissed.

Tenderly, softly, gently.

And their hearts buzzed like bees for those kisses that tasted sweet like honey.

[killherfreakout]

half of who i am isn’t all my fault

a series about hands and where they touch.

part two: your hand under my chin

[a/n: bipolar disorder, mixed state of mania and depression.]

* * *

The world is ending.

At least, to a twenty-something artist in Paris named Eliott Demaury, it feels like it is. And he can’t decide if he wants to sit there and watch or throw caution to the wind and go down with it.

It’s another quiet weeknight in the city, late enough that the partygoers are on their way home but early enough that people aren’t up for work. So the world is continuing as normal, and yet, it feels like Eliott is on the edge of it and about to fall off. 

And there’s no one to blame but himself; no one to blame but his chemically imbalanced and traitorous brain, on the brink of consuming every last semblance of control he has left, in the middle of a sleepless night. Eliott knows this feeling too well, and no matter who much he tries to fight it, his attempts are futile. 

Eliott finds himself sitting on the edge of their bed, and he watches as Lucas’ parted lips huff out soft breaths in his sleep. He looks ethereal, like some kind of angel sent to watch over Eliott when he wants to give up on himself, always there when he doesn’t know he needs him. Lucas is some kind of perfect dream, in between real and imaginary, as he lays there like he has no idea the sight he makes.

Lucas said once, after Eliott made him try his special omelettes, I’m glad you have one flaw, otherwise you’re just too perfect to be real. And Eliott knows the way people look at him, like he’s an entity only good for his beauty — although, if he has anything to say about it, he would argue he’s the furthest from that — and not a person with real human emotion underneath it all. The thought makes a cruel, humorless laugh bubble up inside his throat.

And he doesn’t want to be the asshole who’s ungrateful for his conventionally attractive features, but every time it comes up, it just— it feels like it’s the universe’s twisted way of overcompensating for the ugliness that hides beneath the shiny surface. It makes this shame and guilt swirl inside of him, and there’s this voice mocking him, saying, if only they knew. If only they knew how flawed this body is, how close it is to breaking. 

His boyfriend’s peaceful state somehow magnifies Eliott’s awakeness, and his body feels heavy but his mind and heart feel like they’re going fast enough to run a marathon. Like he has all this energy he needs to burn but he’s stuck inside the small apartment as the world ends inside it, and seems to keep going outside of it.

Inevitably he finds his cigarettes on the ledge of the living room window, and goes through one before he even realizes he’s smoking it; he goes to light another but gets annoyed at the busted lighter, deciding to raid the fridge for something to wash down the nicotine.

A gust of wind outside reminds him of the outside world, his body somehow not big enough for everything he feels inside, like he belongs out there. But he can feel himself coming down, feeling like he fits inside his body again the more he breathes, and he tries with all his might to stay afloat before he crashes.

Eliott lays on the cold floor of their bedroom, his head against the wall under the window and legs bent at the knee with his feet against the foot of the bed. It’s not quite comfortable but the position allows him to see some of the sky over the tops of the buildings outside, including a few stars that shine through the darkness.

He lays there for a while, just looking at the tiny shining stars and melting into the cold floor, trying to focus on the sound of Lucas’ tiny breaths from the bed.

There’s a star that peeks through a small cloud as it passes by, and Eliott can’t tell which one it is or which constellation it belongs to, but he knows that it’s one that moves around the North Star, like all the others do. Then a thought comes to him: he’s like one of those stars. He’s always changing and going in circles, sometimes hidden behind clouds in his mind, not visible to anyone. The thought could be dreamy and romantic, comparing himself to the stars, but with the current state he’s in it feels like a curse. Like the pole his life revolves around is his bipolar disorder, where he has no choice but to let it decide his course.

It makes him feel so small and so alone, always at war with his mind and with himself. The stars seem so far away, and he’s just left lying on the cold floor in his own apocalypse that no one can see.

His eyes wander across the ceiling, unfocused and frenzied as these thoughts keep swirling around his head, hands clenching at his sides.

There’s shuffling on the other side of the room where Lucas tosses in the bed, groaning before calling, “Baby?”

Eliott registers the sounds but can’t break his focus from the ceiling of his mind and the room.

“Eli, where are you?”

Lucas calls his name a few more times, the sound getting further and further away as the younger one searches the other rooms of the apartment. Eliott wants to scream for help, wants to tell Lucas, I’m here, I’m here, but he can’t. 

Somehow, though, he seems to beckon him back.

There’s footsteps and then a source of light, and Lucas almost trips over Eliott’s legs where he still rests on the floor by their bed. Lucas sighs when he realizes he’s found him, sleepy features illuminated by the blue light of his phone. His eyes are squinty from the light and his hair is a perfect mess all over his head, a few strands falling down to his eyes. He still looks like an angel - and here he is, to save Eliott from himself like he knew he would.

“There you are,” Lucas kneels on the floor by Eliott’s side. Eliott finally focuses on his voice and his presence, his angel. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Eliott doesn’t move, can’t move. Lead has settled into his bones trapping him to the floor, and every nerve screams to get up, to go back to bed with Lucas, but there he lies, paralyzed.

“Oh, Eliott,” Lucas’ smile disappears, thumbing away the tears that Eliott didn’t even know were flowing. His voice is soft and loving just like he is. “What’s going on?”

His eyes close to the words, no doubt causing more wetness from his eyes. The thumb wipes it away again, so gently, it’s like magic.

Subconsciously Eliott registers Lucas’ concern and the way he asked, noticing how he asked what’s going on? instead of what’s wrong? — because something doesn’t necessarily have to be wrong to make Eliott feel like this, because what Eliott feels right now is something that happens sometimes. They’ve had plenty of experience with this exact moment, when Eliott is close to losing himself and Lucas makes sure to keep him from going too far. 

“Lucas…” His voice is weak, his throat closing and breath stuck somewhere that can’t get out. Eliott can feel the touch again, this time firmer, more real. Lucas leans down to be closer to him, and keeps up that brushing on his face, but it’s overwhelming all of a sudden, and there’s no simple answer to his question and—

Eliott finds some strength, or just a fighting response, to turn over and away from the touch and warmth of Lucas. He misses it as soon as it’s gone but stays in his new position with his back turned to the other boy. Lucas doesn’t reach out again, just leaves him be. Eliott is glad his boyfriend is respecting his space but can’t help the guilt setting in that he pushed him away. Eliott lays there quietly, though his mind is anything but. He doesn’t know if Lucas is still there when he finally finds his voice again.

“I was doing so well, I thought I might have finally had some control over this. But it just came out of nowhere and—”

Sudden panic washes over him, because it never really comes out of nowhere, and if it does, there are signs he can recognize so he’s at least a bit prepared.

Eliott thinks of the fact that he hasn’t slept more than a few hours in the past three days, and how tired he doesn’t feel until right at this moment. But he was so focused on his art projects and so excited with how they were coming together, the time seemed to fly by. That happens sometimes, just getting swept up in inspiration and letting it take him away - without triggering an episode. Because he prides himself in his passion and creativity, and how he uses art to sort through his feelings and express his truest self. The thought of his recent works being the product of his mania rather than his own intention makes him so angry and upset that he was born with a brain that always ends up letting him down. 

But now in hindsight he doesn’t know what to think, or what exactly triggered these feelings, or how he got here, or what will come next. Eliott had been diligent with taking his meds and going to his weekly sessions, but now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember if he took them yesterday and—

Eliott lays with his back on the floor again. “I should have seen this coming. I knew I was doing too well that something was going to happen, and it’s always the same shit.” He tilts his head back to look at the stars again, and imagines himself as one of them. “No matter how hard I try, it's like nothing I do is ever up to me. And I have to deal with myself for the rest of my life.”

It’s silent again and Eliott has a moment of terror that he’s completely alone, like he’s the last person on Earth and shouting into an endless, dark void.

“Hey,” the sound is like a beam of light breaking through the dark void, like another lost soul is greeting him, saying, I’m here, I’m here.

Lucas hasn’t left from his place next to him; he’s laying on his side facing Eliott on the hard floor. Eliott doesn’t look at him, though; he doesn’t want to see him look at how much of a mess he is. He knows Lucas doesn’t pity him, and he’s so glad for that, but the way Lucas has so much love and care in his eyes makes Eliott only feel more undeserving of it. So he stays on his back and glances from the ceiling to the endless sky.

“Hey,” Lucas says again, in a soft whisper, but firm this time. “Eli, can you look at me?”

Eliott doesn’t want to be like the stars and revolve around his bipolar. Maybe he can find a new way to navigate, by following a new star, a new pole that is a fixed point in his life. Like the one in front of him now, made of stardust and blue eyes and love.

He swallows thickly, his breath finding a way out as he catches sight of Lucas. Eliott was right, there’s so much love in his beautiful, still sleepy eyes. Even though Eliott is turned on his side to face him, he tucks his head down to his chest. 

Lucas comes a little closer, and slowly reaches a hand out to Eliott as not to scare him. He runs his hand over the fabric of Eliott’s chest where his heart beats fast underneath, and gently uses it to lift his chin so that Lucas can see him.

Eliott lets him, lets Lucas position his face to open up to him, lets himself be seen. But he’s stubborn when he gets like this, so he still looks down and away from Lucas who still has Eliott’s chin in his hand.

“Breathe,” Lucas says calmly, looking into his eyes. Eliott keeps their gaze this time; Lucas’ is more direct and practical now, communicating more than his voice. Eliott lets out an excuse for a breath, more like a quiet sob, and then Lucas says again, “Breathe, in and out.” 

Lucas watches as Eliott tries again, but it’s still impossible. He wants to look away again but the hand under his chin won’t let him, the fingers there softly tracing the frown on his face as if to smooth it away. 

“Listen to mine and try to breathe with me.” 

It’s then that Eliott decides that Lucas is his North Star, even if just for tonight. His mania and his depression and his anxiety and his sleepless nights will always be there, but right here and right now, he uses every last ounce of control he has to listen as Lucas’ chest rises and fills with air and slowly deflates. 

Eliott tunes into the sound of every breath, and soon he somehow finds that he’s breathing in time with them. 

“There you go, keep breathing,” Lucas reassures, his hand moving from Eliott’s chin to his shoulder and slowly down his arm to where his hands lay in front of him on the floor. 

After some time, Eliott’s heart rate is slow again, and he’s exhausted. He’s about to fall, into real sleep for the first time in days, and Lucas is right there with him.

Lucas’ voice sounds like it’s on the other side of that void, far away but extremely close at the same time. “I’m sorry you feel like that, and I wish I could say the right thing to make you feel better, but all I can say is that you’re right, it sucks. I mean, I’ll never know exactly how you feel, but I’m acknowledging that it must feel awful. But I do know that you’re so much stronger than you think, and I know that you are so much more than your weakest moments, and that I’m right here with you through anything.” 

Eliott’s eyes are heavy and his mind is starting to drift, but the words make him hold on just a little bit longer. He flutters his eyes open to see Lucas staring back at him, the smallest sleepy smile on his lips. Eliott does his best to return it, even if it’s a lazy slant of his mouth. 

“I'm sure it must feel really lonely sometimes, but I’ll keep reminding you that you’re not alone.” Lucas’ hand is tickling down his forearm, and he intertwines their fingers to bring them to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses across his knuckles. “And I can’t wait to deal with you for the rest of my life.”

My angel. It’s the last thing Eliott thinks before he surrenders to sleep, his hand still in Lucas’ where they lay on the hardwood floor.

When Eliott wakes it’s to the sun shining at a low angle into the room, and he tosses in the bed to shy away from it, bumping into a hard body on his side. Lucas is sitting against the headboard smiling down at him, greeting him with a good afternoon, my love.

After a few long moments of waking up, still coming to and vaguely remembering his state the previous night, Eliott swallows though his throat is dry and regards his boyfriend looking all awake and beautiful.

“Did you carry me to bed?” Eliott asks half in awe and half in confusion. He’s done the same for Lucas countless times, but he doesn’t think his boyfriend ever has.

Lucas scoffs but he has the widest, most beautiful smile on his face. The kind that is contagious even when Eliott is not feeling up to smiling.

He gets him to drink some water and take his meds, and Eliott is too tired to fight it. 

“Remember when I said you were stronger than you think? Well, so am I.” Lucas smirks with a quick raise of his brows, and Eliott goes to bury his face into Lucas’ neck and shoulder, his absolute favorite place in the universe.

“I love you,” is all Eliott has the energy to say, before he rolls over and goes to sleep a few hours more. Lucas laughs that soft and adorable laugh of his, and joins him under the covers. My love, my light, my angel, my star.

[anbudrky2021]

Ch 5: Three Days

The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

No smut warning in this one. Next one there will be :) Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

I woke up to the sound of Nat at my door. She let herself in and sat down comfortably on the edge of my bed. “Hey sleepyhead, you missed breakfast..” she handed me a muffin.

“Oh,” I sat up, groggy and confused. “I must have slept through the alarm,” I noted, looking at my phone.

“That’s ok. Wanda is waiting in the lab with Shuri when you’re ready.” She gave me a kind smile. I smiled back. More tests. Like a lab rat.

“You’re not a rat,” Natasha laughed. “You’re a human going through something strange. We’ll figure it out.”

I laughed as well, “Ok. I am going to get up.” I said, finishing my muffin and moving the bedding. I got up and around, brushing my hair and teeth; I changed into some leggings and a t-shirt. I slid on my sneakers and sighed. “Alright. I’m ready.” I noticed Natasha was looking at her phone, confused. “Everything ok?” I asked observantly.

“Yeah, just a message from Tony I don’t understand.” She rolled her eyes and placed her phone in her pocket.

I bet it’s about Thor’s mission to observe Bucky. I scoffed at my own thought.

“No it’s about something else,” Nat replied, smiling softly.

“I really need to get this fixed,” I groaned.

We reached the lab in time to run into Thor wandering out of the wing. “Ladies,” he nodded his head in politeness, but continued walking without stopping. I blushed.

I counted his steps as he walked away, hoping it would keep me from projecting any thought I might have.

We entered the main area and saw Shuri in another room, through the glass. She waved at us to come to her. We walked together to the room and sat down in the chairs provided.

“So I was up...all night,” she began, looking somewhat exhausted but excited at the same time. “I have some ideas and Wanda volunteered to be like...”

“The control group,” Wanda interjected. I jumped at her voice, not realizing she had been in the room.

“So I am the experimental group?” I said, a little nervous.

“Yes, but you knew that already.” Shuri rolled her eyes and continued. “I have some tests I have already started with Wanda and would like to conduct with you, to see the difference in the firing of neurons, etc.”

“Ok...” I stared at her.

“Basically we’re going to compare her brain activity to yours, since she’s the closest example of someone who can use your same powers.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s another place to start..” she sighed.

I don’t want to be compared to Wanda. I do that myself enough. As soon as I thought it, I regretted it; I didn’t need Wanda and Nat to go on their ‘you’re beautiful as you are’ crusade. But nobody responded. Either I was being ignored or I hadn’t projected.

After about 15 minutes of setting up, a few projections, and some frustration, we were ready to start the first test.

Shuri had created a slideshow of different scenes, people, and words. Each of them had a purpose, according to her, and could hopefully help her figure out triggers or stressors within me and Wanda. Wanda had already completed hers.

“Ready?” Shuri asked. “Remember, some of these may be...upsetting or emotionally jarring. So let me or Nat know if we need to stop.”

Nat was beside me in the room, whereas Wanda and Shuri were on the other side of the glass, next to the computer.

“Ready as ever I guess...” I took a deep breath and watched the screen change.

The first few were almost funny; a cow, a dog, basic things.

The next few were more interesting; the compound, a field, the jet, knives

The knives made me uncomfortable but I tried to stay calm.

“The knives set off a different part of your brain,” Wanda said through the glass. Shuri shot her a look. “I wasn’t supposed to say that; sorry!” Her eyes were wide and animated. She was adorable sometimes.

Scott Lang, Tony, Bruce, T’Challa, Shuri scrolled on the screen, one at a time.

Wanda, Natasha, Clint, Thor

My heart was starting to race and I was not comfortable.

Steve, Pietro, Vis, Bucky

I didn’t move, I didn’t think, I didn’t say anything. Bucky wasn’t on the screen; he was in the next room with Wanda and Shuri.

“Can you leave,” I heard Shuri say, “Thor was looking for you anyway. Go find him.” She wafted him away. He made a point to look at me and smile. I didn’t smile back, only turned my head back to the screen.

Peter

“Can I take a break please?” I asked immediately.

“Uh, sure...” Shuri looked at Nat and nodded. Nat helped me remove the different testing measures and I left the room quickly. I took deep breaths but I felt like I was dying.

Wanda came out of her room and walked toward me. “Hey, you did a great job...” she soothed me, taking me into her arms. “You were so good.” She rocked me a little, allowing for me to calm down more. I was able to take a deep breath and collect myself.

“Sorry. I know the point is to identify brain...stuff...but that was a lot for me.” I shook my head with disappointment in myself.

“It’s understandable, Y/N, you’ve been through a lot and you haven’t necessarily had closure...” she rubbed my arm. “Are you ready to come back?” She pointed at the door.

“Yeah.” I took another breath. Ready to leave is more like it.

“Quitting isn’t an option today,” Wanda retorted.

I laughed but knew she was right.

We did some more tests for a few hours. Some emotional, some physical, some logic-based. By noon, Wanda and I were exhausted in every aspect of the word. Shuri let us leave but Nat stayed behind to help her work on the test results to find any patterns or relevance.

Wanda and I chose to take a walk on the Palace grounds to get some fresh air and sunshine.

“That was...a lot...” she said softly. It was hard on her, too. After losing her brother and her mom and dad... “I didn’t realize how much I missed Pietro..” she sniffled, wiping her face on her sleeve.

“Yeah, it was...” I rubbed her back as we walked.

We walked in silence for a while. We got to see some kids playing, a dog wandering around, and Steve down in a field with Bucky, sparring we supposed.

I did not mention the tight feeling in my chest when I saw Bucky fighting; I just walked and counted my steps.

“Y/N, why have you been projecting numbers?” She asked as we reentered the Palace.

“What?”

“Well it’s always a different pace, but it’s always numbers.” She looked at me quizzically.

“Oh, well I am trying to count footsteps instead of letting my thoughts project. I guess I am projecting the counting...” I laughed a little.

She smiled. “You’re so creative, you know that?” I smiled back at her as we parted ways. I headed for my room.

By dinner time, I was starving. I walked out of my room and headed to the dinning area.

“Y/N, wait up!” Steve called after me. I turned and waited for him. “How did today go?” He asked, thoughtfully.

“It was tough but hopefully worth something.” I gave him a forced smile.

“Bucky told me he walked in on you guys working. He felt bad about it, you know...” he looked at me wearily.

“I don’t care,” I smiled at him, pretending to not care even though I wanted to punch him for mentioning Bucky.

“Hey! Please don’t punch me,” he feigned fright by putting his hands up in surrender.

“Steve. I just-” I inhaled deeply. “I think about Bucky every day. I think about what happened all the time. I don’t want to think about him or it any more than I need to...” I trailed off. “Thank you for relaying that, but I don’t have the capacity to care about what Bucky feels.”

Steve nodded with understanding. “I gotcha.”

We walked into the dining room. Where, of course, Bucky was seated.

Goddamn it. This mother fucker.

Everyone looked at me. I blushed. Of course I projected that. I counted my steps as I walked to my seat, between Steve and Wanda.

Natasha sat across from me, next to Thor and Shuri. Bucky was on the other side of Steve, out of my sight at least.

As I ate, I counted my bites of food. I counted the number of rolls on the table. I counted the number of freckles on Steve’s arm. Anything to distract myself.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. Quit with the counting!” Bucky sat his fork down harshly. “Just tell me what you’re thinking so you don’t have to distract yourself and annoy everyone!” He looked around and past Steve, right at me.

Everyone was staring at us. “Buck, I didn’t hear anything...” Steve whispered to Bucky.

“Neither did I...” Nat interjected.

“So only Bucky heard the projection?” Shuri asked, interested.

“No,” Thor’s voice now echoed above theirs. “I heard it, too. I just assumed everyone did and I’m not as ass.” He glared at Bucky.

I was blushing and completely confused. I stood up and walked off without a word.

I heard large steps behind me but ignored them until my wrist was caught by a large hand.

“Y/N, are you ok? That was futile. Bucky was out of line.” Thor looked concerned.

“I’m fine. Please let me go. I’m just so tired.” I started to tear up. My mind was overwhelmed and my emotions were completely out of sorts. I needed my mommy. Thor let go of my wrist and nodded. “Do you want company? I can sit and talk or-“

“No. Thank you. I just need time. I’m going to go...Um, I’m going visit my mom..” I turned on my heel and left him behind.

I walked for about 30 minutes in one direction before approaching the cemetery. I took a deep breath for calmness and then entered the lot.

I walked among the rows, feeling more and more nauseous the closer I got to her. Finally, I saw her stone.

T’Challa had a special marble figurine commissioned for her. It was on top of her headstone. It was beautiful and exuded her brilliance tenfold. I smiled as I fell to my knees in front of it.

The sobs that left me the moment my knees hit the grass were earth-moving. I could feel my body tensing and writhing as my tears fell. My shoulders heaved with every cry. I slowly drifted closer to the ground until I was laying completely on top of her grave. My tears watered her grass.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I had fallen asleep on my mother’s grave. When I awoke, my head was pounding and my eyes felt like stinging, melting glass shards. I sniffled and sat up, looking around. It was dark. I sighed and looked again at her figurine.

“Mom what do I do? Everything is worse. It’s all getting worse. I’m projecting in the wrong ways or not at all. I feel so exhausted. I’m being triggered by everything. I need you, mom...” I listened to the wind in between the graves and stones. The breeze passing through crevasses.

I laid down on my back and looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. I smiled and remembered a moment with my mom in which we went star grazing in Wakanda. He laughed for hours and had the greatest conversations.

I wish Thor was here. He’d love this. I bet he would say something about the Asgard sky and then horribly describe it. But he’d be smiling and that smile...

I blushed thinking about his smile. But then I caught myself. But what about Peter. I groaned.

I looked more at the stars and continued to fight back and forth between thinking of Thor and Peter. I was so engulfed in my thoughts I didn’t hear the gate to the cemetery open and close.

“Y/n.” Thor voice was soft and respectful.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed and jolted upright. “You scared me to death!!!” I fell back onto the ground.

He laughed and said “this would be a good place to drop dead..”

I chuckled. “I suppose so...how’d you find me?”

“Earlier you said you were visiting your mom. You’ve been gone for hours...and then...” he looked at me strangely. “I started...seeing what you’re seeing. Like I’m you...” he sat beside me, elbows on his crooked knees.

“And then...Peter called me. He was freaking out asking if you were ok. Because he was seeing the same thing I was...” he looked down at me.

I looked at him, feeling nauseous again. Immediately, without warning I turned my head and vomited just out of moms burial site.

“Woah!” Thor held my hair back and soothed me the best he could. “Are you ok?”

“I-no-I don’t think-“ and I was done. I passed out in Thor’s arms and didn’t wake for three days.

[stillebesat]

Scales (6/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation, Death Talk Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4 

Deceit had never thought of his scales as being beautiful. They’d made him a freak. An outcast among the others even among the Dark Sides. Their color always the same ugly shade of yellow green as the crayon in a Crayola pack. A visible sign of Thomas’s dislike of him. 

Sure, they were always slightly brighter, slightly less ugly right after his sheds, but he’d never thought of them as…

Deceit licked his lips, frozen in place as he stared at the new patch of scales Roman’s technique had revealed. 

Scales that--that were--Deceit could only think of them as beautiful. Iridescent. Shining like precious gems. The old sickly yellow had vanished, replaced instead with a vibrant display of golden yellows fading into emerald green which in turn faded to obsidian black.

Gingerly, not quite believing that this was real, he pulled free of Virgil’s grip to lightly touch the exposed patch, his fingers running over the smooth edges.  

“Whoa.” Patton whispered, his own hand hovering above Deceit’s. “You have rainbows on you, Ly!” 

He paused, heart skipping a beat as one finger hovered over the black areas of his scales. Morality was right. Where the scales had darkened, he could see rainbows shimmering across their surface. 

Rainbows. A visible sign of acceptance. 

He couldn’t believe it. Believe that--that they would appear...on him. 

“Almost.” Logan said, leaning forward to rest his head on Deceit’s human shoulder, breath ghosting across his cheek as he spoke. “It’s probably part of the composition of the scales and the light refracting off of them that--”

“They’re so...bea--bright.” Deceit whispered, unable to bring himself to speak the word ‘beautiful’ out loud. He was a Dark Side. He wasn’t meant to be...to be--”

“Bright? They’re perfectly glowingly gorgeous, my Lion King.” Roman proclaimed. “Exactly like a true Dragon’s scales should be!” He gave him a soft, pleased smile. “You have dragon scales.” 

He had dragon scales. 

Creativity’s idea had worked.

The tightness in his chest eased.

He could finally get his shed off.

“Well...if we’re all done gawking.” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow to Roman as he pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Perhaps we should get a move on? I was under the impression Dee’s shed should have been off like...three days ago.” 

“Correct.” Logan cleared his throat as he pulled back, leaving Deceit’s shoulder feeling bare and cold. 

Deceit swallowed, human hand twitching as he fought the urge to pull Logan near again. It was...unexpected, this...feeling. How quickly he’d grown to like having the others touching him. He just wanted to--to--

As if reading his mind, Logan rested a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. “Since the test has obviously worked, what do we do next, Roman?” 

Creativity grinned, spreading his arms wide. “Well. First I need to set the proper scene.  The commons is hardly warm enough for this to work properly.” 

Deceit blinked, looking around the living room. He couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work here. “Scene?” Couldn’t Roman just conjure more ash to--

“A beach!”

Virgil made a face, pulling his hoodie over his head, hiding his eyes. “Oh goodie. Heat stroke.” 

Roman shot him a look. “That’s what summer clothes are for Emo Edgelord.”

“Nope. You are not getting rid of my hoodie!” 

“Wasn’t planning on it Dark and Stormy, You’ll have a hoodie just watch--” Roman snapped his fingers.

The living room vanished in the blink of an eye replaced by the view of an ocean with waves gently lapping against the shore. 

Deceit inhaled, automatically lifting his head up to the sun burning overhead, his body already warming under the intense heat that was much stronger than what he could create in his room. Yet...he glanced from the corner of his eye to Logan. The sun’s rays weren’t as penetrating as he’d expected them to be. No...compared to the fire emanating from Logan’s steady hand, the sun’s heat barely seemed to scratch the surface. 

“MY EYES!” Virgil complained, jerking the hood of his now light purple jacket over his head as the carpet of the living room shifted to the same opalescent volcanic dust Creativity had conjured earlier. “ROMAN!” 

Dust that felt so soft and warm...that it took all Deceit’s control to not bury himself in it then and there. 

Even if he did have dragon scales, he wasn’t the Dragon Witch. He wouldn’t copy her. No. He wouldn’t! He---

“Hey! I can’t control the brightness of the sun, Dr. Gloom!” 

Virgil hissed, glaring at him under his hood. “You’re Crea--”

“I know what I am. That doesn’t mean I can make the sun darker! Especially not if we want--”

“A Beach party!” Patton pumped his hand in the air, now wearing blue swim shorts with white hearts on them. “Come on Virge! We can bury LyLy in sand-”

“Ash.” Logan corrected softly in Deceit’s ear as he again moved, carefully urging him to lay down. 

Ash that felt really good against the shed right now. At least better than the sweat sodden blankets he’d been under earlier. 

Despite his best intentions to not copy what the Dragon Witch apparently did, Deceit didn’t need any further urging before he rolled onto his left side, wriggling to bury himself into the soft opalescent dust as quickly as possible. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure, his tense muscles already relaxing. 

He had to admit...this didn’t feel half bad.

“-and turn him into a mermaid sculpture!” 

Roman chuckled, shaking his head as he moved with practiced grace to help partially bury Deceit, making sure his neck and head were supported while also ensuring that none of the shed was showing and that he could still breathe.. “Mermaid Deceit. That’s something. Though I would think more of an Eel--” 

“What about a Naga? That’s more fitting for Dee’s style.” Virgil muttered, carefully mounding the ash up around Deceit’s head, covering his hair as he raised an eyebrow to him.

Deceit made a face, careful to not get any ash in his mouth as he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Annie. He much preferred having legs thank you very much.

“A Naga?” Patton asked as he energetically pushed ash up and over Deceit’s stomach to cover the shed there.

“Half snake, Pat?” 

“Oh...well--”

Personally, and Annie was well aware of this, Deceit had always been drawn more to spiders than snakes. But with his scaled complexion and Morality’s now known fear of arachnids...it wasn’t a topic he felt he could bring up. 

He closed his human eye, slowly exhaling as he went still, his shed covered fingers digging deeper into the ash as Logan settled next to him, gently running his fingers through his regular hair.

 “Why not go build a sand castle or play in the ocean or something?” He mumbled, leaning into Logan’s hand as his fingers continued to run through his hair. The others could go have their beach party while he just--

“And just LEAVE you?!” Morality demanded, sounding scandalized as he patted Deceit’s leg. “No siree, mister! We’re. Staying. Right. Here!” 

“It’s not like this will take as long as the Dragon Witch.” Roman said with a shrug. “Just be sure to not move too much. The shed will only come off without issue if it’s evenly and properly dried out before we remove it.”

It made sense, though it still didn’t make sense that the others were actually wanting to...stick around to help him with this. “How long?” He asked, half curling up so his head was pressed against Logan’s leg, taking more comfort in having the Logical Side near him. He knew Lo would prevent the other three from doing something stupid and this-- 

This felt...felt so nice. Having them around. Not...screaming or being horrified. He never would have thought that they--that they cared--that this---would happen. That they would help a Dark Side like this. That they would consider him to be...Family.

“Well--depending on what size she is when the shed takes her...it can last up to a week before I’m called in to help--” 

“A WEEK!” Virgil repeated.

Deceit opened his human eye, tilting it so he could see Anxiety. “If mine can take up to three days at my size...it’s not surprising it could take her longer.” Though he would have to arrange to...see...if not meet this Dragon Witch at some point. He’d been under the impression she was a full dragon. Perhaps there was more merit to the ‘witch’ part of Dragon Witch than he originally thought. 

“Exactly! And I mean...that’s just what she’s told me.” Roman looked away. “Honestly, I do believe that she’s not being fully truthful on how long it actually takes. You know...to keep me from taking advantage of her during that time.” He ran a hand through his hair, a slight frown on his face. “Like I’d strike a worthy opponent when they’re down.” He mumbled in such a way Deceit was sure no one else was meant to hear it.

“But he’s already been this way for six days Roman!” Virgil hissed. “Are you saying we have to wait one more for it to work?” 

“That is currently unknown. With the change in his scales, Lyal’s timeline may have altered.” Logan shrugged a shoulder, trailing his fingers down the side of Deceit’s neck. “There really is no way to know for sure how long this will take until his next shed when we can give him the proper setup from the onset.” He reached, adjusting his glasses, eyes sparking with interest. “I would expect with how quickly the ash worked on his test spot, that we should not have to wait long though.”

True. Deceit flexed his fingers underneath the ash, the corner of his lip quirking upwards. His mobility had always been extremely limited under the shed. Being able to move his fingers now before doing anything to get rid of the shed had to be a good sign.

“So we just...wait?” Patton asked, fidgeting as he piled ash up and over his legs even though Deceit had no scales there needing to be covered. “Then use the brush--” 

“To remove it, yes.” Roman confirmed. “I can show you how to do it so it won’t hurt-- I mean, it took me a time or two with the Dragon Witch nearly biting off my head to learn how.”

“And with how long Lyal’s been in shed, we do not want to mess this up for him.” Logan cut in.

Deceit swallowed, heart skipping a beat. No...he really--if this was all some sort of trick--if Roman had made this all up. He’d--He’d---

“Oh yah. You do not want to get on Dee’s dar--well darker side.” Virgil said. “You do not want to see that--”

“Well I’m sure our mighty Lion King here will be less snappy at least, he doesn’t have the fangs after all to---”

Deceit raised his human hand, heart pounding in his ears as Roman fell silent, his hands hovering over his mouth just shy of completely covering it as everyone else froze.

“Ly?” Creativity breathed out softly.

If it had been his scaled hand doing the controlling, Roman wouldn’t be able to speak at all. 

“I don’t really need fangs now do I to express my displeasure?” He asked, trying to smirk though he could feel his lips trembling as he met Creativity’s wide eyes before letting his hand fall limply back to the ground, freeing the other from his control. 

He let out a shaky breath, pressing the scaled side of his face back into the ash, closing his human eye to block out seeing the others. 

A mistake. He shouldn’t have reacted so. They wouldn’t want---Creativity was helping him! And he’d just! He shouldn’t have--but THIS COULD GO SO WRONG. 

“Lyal.” Deceit jumped, eye opening wide as Roman gently pressed his palm against his cheek. “I promise you. Nothing will go wrong. I’ve had years of experience helping the Dragon Witch now. Your scales will be perfectly pristine when this is over.” 

So he said. But Creativity wouldn’t have to live with the consequences would he if this didn’t work right.

His scales malformed.

His arm left useless.

His face--

“Dude.” Virgil laid a trembling hand on his elbow, squeezing it. “Stop with the internal panicking already. We’re not going to let anything go wrong.” 

 “He has a valid reason to be worried, Virge.” Logan said before Deceit could do more than bare his teeth and hiss at the former dark side. His fingers trailed through Deceit’s hair. “We are asking Lyal to put a lot of trust in us currently. This is a huge step. For all of. One with an uncertain outcome for him.”

Roman scoffed, rubbing his thumb along Deceit’s cheek.  “Uncertain! What do--I told you! It’s exactly like the Dragon Witch!”

“We’re not going to hurt you, Ly.” Patton whispered, patting his knee. “We’re FamILY! We’ll be very very very careful with your scales!” 

It was one thing to hear it.

Totally another to let them--Deceit jerked, crying out as a wave of ice seemed to cascade through him like an avalanche. COLD! He rolled onto Logan’s lap, flinging ash onto the others as he pressed his face against Logic’s chest with a sob, grabbing onto his arm in a white knuckled grip, seeking to soak up every inch of warmth that Logic could give him.

Logan immediately wrapped his arms around him in a firey embrace compared to the glacier of ice running down his side. “Lyal--”

“COLD.” He gasped out through gritted teeth, his shed covered arm held close to his chest as he stared down to the now blackened shed that made him look like a partially burned corpse.  

The test spot hadn’t felt like this. It had been warm! 

Something was wrong. 

IT HAD GONE WRONG.

He had to get it off.

NOW.

He released Logan to grab at his ash covered shoulder, fingers digging at the shed before they were abruptly blocked by a currying brush appearing in his hand, sending a cloud of ash flying off his shoulder. 

“Gently, Decepticon.” Roman commanded softly, carefully pulling Deceit’s arm away from his chest. He offered him a calming smile as he placed his own brush on Deceit’s wrist, quickly working over the area with an experienced hand, the shed flaking away just like it had before, revealing scales that looked exactly the same as the ones on his stomach. “It probably feels like you were just dipped in a bucket of ice, but you don’t want to tear it off like that band-aid do you?” 

Deceit bit back a whine, shaking as Roman’s brush changed to a toothbrush to delicately work on his fingers. Cold was normal? HOW COULD IT BE NORMAL? “N-n-n-no.” 

“Then do what I do.” Roman said, eyes silently pleading as he worked the bristles over a knuckle. “You’ll be fine.”

He--he just--Deceit forced himself to copy Creativity and move his own currying brush in small circles, despite everything within him screaming to just tear it away.

This was a delicate process. He couldn’t rush---Deceit whimpered, his body trembling violently as another wave of ice washed through him, skirting around the areas already freed from the shed.  

He hated this. HATED IT. This wasn’t like the other sheds at all. Was this gonna happen every time?? “Can’t this go faster?” He hissed out. 

It was cold. So cold. He could barely feel the sun blazing over his head now. Only Logan’s heat against him had--

He stilled as warm fingers trailed along his scaled cheek. “Remember you’re not alone, Lyal. Not anymore.” Logan said into his ear as he gently scrubbed at the shed near Deceit’s ear with his own soft bristled brush. 

“That’s right!” Patton said, going for his side, working near his naval. “You’ll be free from it soon enough, sport. Many hands means less work!”

“Makes light work.” Logan corrected. “Though I suppose your sentiment works as well, Pat.” 

“Is there a procedure for hair, Princey?” Virgil asked hesitantly from behind. “I can work on that.” 

Roman hummed, glancing up to his hair, before shaking his head. “Not that I’m familiar with. That’s one thing that’s different from the Dragon Witch. She’s never had anything happen with her hair if the shed took her when she was more human.”

Virgil exhaled. “That’s so not helpful.” 

“Hey!” 

“Don’t worry, Princey. I’ll---figure it out.” Virgil said, flashing a comb before he set to work on the waxy covered bits of his hair.

Deceit took a steadying breath, his own attempts to free his shoulder becoming less frantic as he got distracted watching the others work, freeing more and more gleaming multi-colored scales from the shed. 

His fingers twitched one by one as Roman carefully freed them, revealing nails that had darkened and grown sharp, looking more like talons than human fingernails. 

“Those feel alright?” Creativity murmured, looking up to meet Deceit’s eye as he finished with his thumb. “Move them around. Open and Close. Did I miss anything there? A stray piece of shed caught in a crevice?” 

Deceit flexed and wiggled his fingers before clenching them into a fist, the talons scraping along his palm, but not drawing blood despite there being no scales there. 

“Seems fine.” He whispered, careful to not move his head too much so that Logan and Virgil wouldn’t accidentally hurt him as he let his hand fall open, noting how pink his palm was compared to the scales on the other side. Again he pressed his talons against the flesh. 

“Careful.” Roman warned. “I’m pretty sure you can draw blood if you try hard enough.”

True, even regular human nails could do that. “Talons.” He said, unable to hide his disbelief. He had talons now. 

“And...maybe a horn?” Virgil offered. “There’s a...bump here. I thought it was just a clump of hair stuck together, but--” 

Deceit stiffened before forcing himself to relax. “You’re kidding right? Please say you are.” That was just another--WHY A HORN!?

“I’m not actually. Feel for yourself.” 

He really didn’t want to. Why a horn?! What next? Wings? A TAIL? How much of a dragon exactly was he supposed to become with Thomas’s supposed growing ‘acceptance’ of him?! 

Letting his brush fall to the ash, he reluctantly reached up with his human hand, so as to let Roman continue working on removing the shed on his arm, to his hair. “Where?” 

“Here.” Virgil guided him to a spot a couple inches above his ear. 

Calling it a bump was an understatement. Deceit made a face as he felt the sharp point of what could only be the beginnings of a horn. “WHY?” He complained, dropping his hand, digging his fingers into the ash. 

He didn’t WANT horns. The talons were enough to deal with! Why did there have to be a horn too? Would it grow longer with each subsequent shed he went through? How long before he wouldn’t be able to wear his hat?! 

“Like I said before, dragons are much cooler than snakes.” Roman said, working on his elbow. 

“You’re not the one with the horn, Princey.” Deceit shot back, tilting his head as Logan began working on his ear. 

At least with snake scales he only had to worry about the scales and his hair! He didn’t have the first idea on what sort of care a horn needed, or the talons or...or even the dragon scales themselves!

“I’m sure the Dragon Witch can teach you!” Patton said, giving him a bright smile. 

Great. Being taught by a figment of the imagination. What next? 

“I think Patton’s done with your chest, Lyal.” Logan remarked, brushing the back of his neck. “If you would be so kind as to turn over, we can better access the shed back there.”

He exhaled, twisting to rest his head against Logan’s chest so he could give the others better access to his back. So help him if they discovered a wing back there. 

Still….this...this wasn’t so bad. 

With Roman coaching the others whenever they hesitated the process was going a lot quicker than it would have had he been attempting to remove the shed by himself.

He ducked his head, watching the rainbows dance across the blackened parts of his scales as the others worked, a shiver running through him as he felt the brushes vanish in favor of soft cloths being rubbed against his scales.

If this was what being part of the FamILY meant…having everyone work together like this...to help him.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be...accep--included. 

“Lyal.” Logan’s breath ghosted over his scaled cheek. “I’m going to remove the shed cap over your eye, do not move.” 

A faint pressure around his snake eye and suddenly bright sunlight streamed into it, nearly blinding him. Deceit winced, tears blurring his vision as he blinked for the first time in nearly a week, easing the irritation of having had it open for so long.   

“And done!” Roman proclaimed with a final swipe of his polishing cloth, gesturing for Virgil and Patton to sit back, though both appeared reluctant to do so, their fingers lingering on his scales.

He couldn’t blame them.

Creativity snapped his fingers, a large mirror appearing in his hands as he tilted it so that Deceit could see his reflection for the first time. 

Deceit froze. Staring wide eyed at the image confronting him.

And he’d thought he’d forgotten how to breathe before. 

“So~? Whatcha think?” Roman asked, fidgeting in place.  

Deceits shakily inhaled, as he slowly brought a hand up to his face, feeling the smooth scales there as he pushed away from Logan, shivering from the lack of heat as he sat up to get a better look at his new scales shining like a hoard of gemstones in the sunlight. 

Beautiful.

He couldn’t look away. “Is...is that really...me?” He asked in disbelief.

It had to be hadn’t it? This wasn’t some sort of cruel trick? 

Virgil squeezed his shoulder, smirking in the mirror. “It’s surprising isn’t it?” He said, softly. “What changes when you’re accepted.” 

Changes. Had Virgil--but this couldn’t--this was really was him? Deceit moved his taloned hand, the one in the mirror copying him exactly as he ran his fingers along his cheek, delicately touching the now pointed tip of his ear, before running up through his hair that now had golden highlights similar to Virgil’s own purple ones, feeling the obsidian colored horn barely visible there. 

And then there was his eye, no longer a cold pale yellow, the iris seemed to dance with an inner fire, flickering between orange and gold as an array of emotions rushed through him. 

Beautiful.

He--He was…

Deceit ducked his head, blinking rapidly as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

A Dark Side shouldn’t cry. Shouldn’t appear weak in front of the others in front of his--

Family. 

“You--” He swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat as he ran his hand down his scales. Free. Finally free of the shed. He lifted his left hand, stretching it fully out and flexing his fingers. Watching as the rainbows shimmered over the scales. Unmarred. Working perfectly.

It--it---He looked up to Roman, Patton, Virgil and finally Logan their heat signatures now haloed around them now that his sna--dragon eye could see them properly. “Thank you.” He managed to choke out.  

Without their help--he had no idea how he could have--what would have--if he hadn’t come--if Logan hadn’t convinced him to--

Roman relaxed, offering him a nod and a soft smile in return.

“Of course, LyLy.” Patton said his own eyes shimmering with tears as he grinned wide. “We’re here to help you no matter what.” 

“And since the major crisis appears to be over.” Logan said, a tinge of awe in his voice as his fingers ghosted along Deceit’s scales. “We should now focus on the more minor issue of getting you something to eat. Maybe that soup I mentioned earlier.” A small smile played on his lips when Deceit’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

He flushed, watching how the reds in the rainbows on his scaled cheek grew brighter than the other colors right before the mirror vanished, leaving him staring directly at the delighted look on Roman’s face. He looked away. “Ah...probably.” 

Already he could feel his mouth watering at the thought of having something warm going down his throat. Soup would do for now. Though honestly---Pizza too would be good--no he’d better be careful to not eat too much solid food right away after so long a fast.  

“Eat?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

Deceit shrugged, grimacing as his stomach growled again. “Yes? I...haven’t since--” He gestured to his scales.

“Wait.” Virgil grabbed his wrist, the shadows under his eyes growing dark. “You’re telling me...you haven’t eaten in SIX days?”

“WHAT!” Patton cried, shooting his feet, sending up a small cloud of ash as he did so. “No! No no no we can’t have that mister!”

“Why in the world would you--” Virgil demanded.

Deceit rolled his eyes. Oh, like Anxiety was one to talk about not eating for long periods of time! It wasn’t his fault he missed a week. “I can’t when I’m shedding, Annie.” 

Would it be the same now though? With his scales now taking after a dragon’s instead of a snakes? 

“Well, we can’t have you wait a second more LyLy! Soup’s coming. Hold on. I’ll be right back!” Patton turned, the beach scene shimmering around him as he vanished from sight. 

“Perhaps while Patton is getting that...it would be best for us to return to the living room, Roman.” Logan suggested as he too moved to his feet, offering a hand for Deceit to take. “Lyal will probably be more comfortable resting on the couch while we wait for his long overdue meal.”

Roman scoffed, raising his hand towards the sun as if to grab it. “Couch?! Living room?! How dull!”

Deceit glanced up to the sun as he took Logan’s hand, shakily getting to his feet. “Honestly...compared to the excitement I’ve been through today…” He barely flinched as Logic scooped him up into his arms, holding him securely before his knees could buckle again. 

Logan shot him another small smile. “Save your strength.” He cautioned.

Deceit sighed and nodded, resting his head against Logan’s chest without complaint, enjoying how the warmth was less...antagonizing to him now that he was free from the shed. “Dull sounds rather good to me Roman.”  

“Total Mood, Dee. Anything to get away from the fire demon in the sky.” Virgil said, again adjusting his lighter hoodie over his eyes.

“But what if we had an epic midnight beach party instead?!” Roman asked as he lowered his hand, the sun moving down towards the horizon with the gesture.

“Ohhh.” Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing his hood back. “You can make the sun set whenever you want and yet you can’t lessen the intensity of its heat?” 

“Hey!” Roman whirled pointing a finger at Anxiety. “Having Heat without Light is rather difficult to manage Dr. Gloom! The right conditions had to be met for Lya---”

“Yah, yah. Heat helps the shed, gotcha.” Virgil exhaled, glancing up to the stars that were appearing in the sky as the last rays of the sun vanished.

At least he still had Logan’s heat to rely on with the sun now gone. Deceit fought not to shiver. “What does this...party entail exactly?” He asked. 

If it was just sitting in the dark staring at the stars, he’d have to do a hard pass. Not even a thick blanket and Logan’s stories about the constellations would be enough to convince him to sit in the cold so soon after finishing the shedding process.

“Well, I was thinking we could have a fire.” Roman snapped his fingers, a roaring campfire appearing near enough to Logan and Deceit that he could already feel the heat from the flames.

Deceit reached out with his scaled hand, humming as the fire warmed his skin. Not as hot as the sun, or Logan’s body heat, but it was...nice.  

“Can’t have our Halfling Dragon getting cold now can we?” Creativity said with a wink. 

“But you can have me die from heat stroke?” 

“Oh hush, Count Dracula. I kept your hoodie! You can’t tell me--”

Halfing Dragon? Deceit made a face at that. Just because he had the dragon scales and the talons and the horns and…okay, he’d have to think of a better argument on why he wasn’t a...Halfling. 

“Ooooh a campfire! Perfect!” Patton exclaimed, suddenly popping back into view, once more in his normal clothes, with a large pot in his hands. It shifted to what looked like Virgil’s Halloween Cauldron complete with a thin metal handle as he moved to the flames. “I thought I smelt the smoke! I can easily make the soup over it like in those adventure stories!” He said as a pole and hook appeared for him to hang the pot on so it hung directly in the middle of the fire. 

Patton studied it, making minute adjustments to the pot before nodding to himself in satisfaction as he pulled out a long wooden spoon to stir the contents inside. 

“Exactly! We could even watch a Western movie!” Roman exclaimed as a large screen appeared behind him, the fire growing smaller so as to not compete with the light shining on the screen showing the Disney logo as the ash rose up around them forming large couches for everyone to sprawl on with a multiple of blankets piled nearby. 

“There’s a Disney movie that’s Western?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why yes, Zorro.” Roman grinned, looking pleased with himself. “The Lone Ranger was made by Disney was it not?”

Anxiety smirked. “My my, Princey. You can actually watch shows that aren’t a cartoon?”

“HEY!”  

Deceit’s nostrils flared, and he leaned towards the pot as the scent of chicken noodle soup wafted over to him, ignoring the other two’s bickering. “That smells awf--” He cut off, making a face as he quickly corrected himself. “Amazing, Pat.” 

“Lying?” Logan asked in an undertone as he sat both of them down on the couch nearest the fire so that Deceit could stay warm. “I take it the compulsion is coming back now that the shed is over?” 

Deceit exhaled as he adjusted his position so he was more comfortable resting against Logic. “No.”

Great. Now he’d have to be more conscious of how he spoke to the others again. Why couldn’t the shift to dragon scales have altered that particular quirk of his? That would have been extremely helpful. But nooo. He had to grow a horn instead.  

“Mhmmm.” Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes glittering with humor. “Pretty sure that’s a falsehood, Lyal.” 

Deceit stuck out his tongue as he grabbed a blanket to pull over them. “Forget what I said.” 

Logan chuckled, his fingers again running through his hair, moving in slow circles around the small horn. “I know.” He said softly. “You can’t always not lie. As Logic, I won’t forget that. I promise, we’ll work with you as your FamILY so it won’t be an issue.” 

Family. 

Butterflies danced in his stomach as Deceit partially curled up to make room for Annie to sit by his feet like a silent guardian gargoyle, watching as Roman and Patton worked together to get the soup and the movie ready.

He had to admit, he was growing rather fond of the concept. 

To Be Continued Epilogue