#j and i just sat in silence in the dark staring at the lights twinkling

[crossovereddie]

My Christmas tree is the prettiest girl in the world 😍

[citydreamgrls]

they were roommates - part six

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: i apologise for how long it has taken me to update this series, i promise it has not been forgotten. after all the lovely messages complimenting this series, i wanted to make each new part just as perfect for you all so i’ve been dwelling over decisions etc... also! thank you, omg omg, for 900 followers, it’s mental it’s obscene, i genuinely squealed out loud when i saw. also thank you to everyone who continues to support my work, you are all my lifeline, hope you enjoy, love always <333

words: 4,436

It was late, but Fred couldn’t for the life of him shut off the constant flow of thoughts that plagued his mind as he laid awake in bed. That and the drilling sound of rain on the loft’s roof forced him to get up and pace around the kitchen while he waited for the kettle to boil.

With an old tea-stained between his two hands, the man perched on the back of the sofa to get a better view of muggle London's skyline. It hadn’t been until the girl had pointed out it’s beauty that he really stopped to give it a good look. Now since then he had discovered a newfound peace in watching the little cars run along the road, the twinkling lights ever changing and moving around. It was like the stars.

Fred had presumed the girl had slipped in earlier, knowing that he wouldn’t have heard it from all the way at the top of the building, so jumped quite a bit when the door to the loft opened behind him.

The girl seemed just as surprised to see him awake at such an odd hour, taking a step back in hesitation, her heels echoing on the wooden floorboards. Her hair was damp from the rain, but she still looked just as beautiful as when she left. As perfect as when he’d first seen her behind the bar at the leaky cauldron all those months ago.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked, kicking off her shoes and tiptoeing over to him with a small smile. He nodded, letting her settle herself beside him in a similar position. Her eyes lit up at the sight before them both, the orange glow reflecting onto her slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good night?” He braved, fearing the answer.

“It was… nice.” They nodded together, neither one of them sure of how to approach the subject of dating older brothers.

The silence grew on them, that previous tension rippling away as y/n rested her head on Fred’s shoulder. No doubt giving herself the chance to fully think over the last twenty four hours.

“It was just nice.” She finally sighed, her cold hands playing about with the hem of her dress.

“Really?” Fred was genuinely caught off guard by this, thinking back to how happy the girl and Bill had seemed together. The way both of them just clicked, it had to have worked out, right?

“Don’t get me wrong he’s lovely, and a true gentleman, but it was just that-” The man watched her face as she spoke, her eyes never leaving the lights. The girl knew if she looked over at him that she would break.

“Bill’s always been the perfect one,” Fred laughed lightly, taking a sip of his tea and offering it out to the girl. Her fingertips burnt against the heat of it as she took it, but it wasn’t even noticeable over the thoughts rushing through her head. “I’m surprised, I thought you two were really gonna work.”

Y/n wanted to scream out in frustration, hating the way that she played around with how she felt all because Bill was there and willing when Fred didn’t seem to be.

“So did I, but he just- he… he wasn’t…” Fred “It doesn’t matter.” She finished.

“He wasn’t what?” The man asked.

“It wasn’t what I expected… that’s all.” She lied.

In fact, her date with the older Weasley brother had gone exactly as she had expected it to do so after the break-in. When she finally realised that there was only one person who would risk everything for her, and he had been the one to look after her all day, selflessly.

She went on the date out of courtesy, knowing that it wouldn’t give her the kind of butterflies she got when Fred looked her in the eyes. Nothing else would, that was one thing she knew for certain. She also knew that she wanted to look at him more than anything, but held herself back a little longer.

“He feels the same,” That was true.

“Really? He does?” Fred cursed himself for sounding so excited, but the girl looked none the wiser. She nodded.

“We get on, that’s obvious, but I don’t think it’s anything more than simple attraction.”

The mug got passed between them until it ran dry, the man retreating back to the kitchen to make them another. He knew she had only said yes to stall them a bit longer, there was no way she wanted to go back into her room alone. So if she wanted to stay awake and chat with him a little longer, he would do so, it wasn’t like he was going to drift off anytime soon.

When he brought her a tea of her own she was stood up, facing the window and breathing slow, deep breaths. Not even the sound of the porcelain against the coffee table stirred her.

“Y/n?” He called to her, hushed, but she didn’t move. Fred frowned, walking over carefully as not to spook her. “You okay?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, waiting for a small squeal or a jump. But she was frozen on the spot. “You’re freezing.” He exclaimed, not having felt the way her skin had chilled from the rain.

“Freddie?” She asked, stopping him as he went to fetch her a blanket to warm up in. He stopped, moving closer again, seeing her face glowing orange against the lights once again.

“Yes?”

“Thank you…” It sounded like she was deep in thought, like her words were coming out before her head could even comprehend it.

“What for?” The man was confused, never having seen her zone out this way before.

Her head turned slightly, her glassy eyes meeting his after what felt like years. Fred felt his heart pause for a moment, without his doing, the sight before him was one that he wished to frame in a gallery for all to see. Yet it was just them in this silent moment, one that he longed to last forever.

“Everything…” It was a little more than a whisper, like a gentle plea. Her face leant closer, titing to fit perfectly against his. The man’s breath was stolen away in one brief second, as her lips locked onto his. It felt like seeing the sun after years of being in darkness, in fact, she felt like the warmth of sunlight against his skin as they touched.

Her cool hands reached for his neck, fingertips playing over him like they were dancing. The man sighed out in content, his own body finally kicking in and holding her waist with an intense grip. She felt like heaven, like his angel.

Freddie wanted it to last forever, he wanted her to last forever. But she jumped away, like the man’s lips had shocked her. The girl looked down at her feet, breathing heavily from the lack of air and staring at the floorboards as if they were bearing a message.

“I’m so sorry.” She groaned out. “It’s okay.” He tried to reassure her, but she backed away from him like she didn’t trust herself. That beautiful moment, those stolen moments that he had longed for, looked to be her biggest regret.

“I’m an idiot, god, you must-” “Y/n stop.” He reached out and rubbed the side of her arm carefully, bowing his head to look at her properly. But she didn’t dare look into his eyes again. She couldn’t risk it.

“It’s j-just been a long day,” She sighed, falling back onto the sofa and out of his reach.

She wavered as she spoke, her voice threatening to break into a string of sobs.

“Hey, hey, let’s get you to bed huh?” Fred’s voice was soothing, his smile comforting as he offered out a hand for her to take.

She went with him like a child who needed caring for, her footsteps slow and unbalanced as Fred took her up the small set of stairs to his room. He watched her get into his bed, still dressed in the outfit she’d left the loft in, and bury herself beneath the covers.

“I’ll be on the sofa if you need me,” He told her quietly, waiting by the door. The bedside lamp was still on, but it seemed like the girl wasn’t going to make any moves to change that, so he left it alone.

She nodded in response, her head facing the small window as the rain continued to fall down against it.

“That way if anyone tries to get in, they’ll need to fight me off first.” He joked, a small giggle sounding from the mass amounts of duvet around the girl’s head. Fred went to leave, a small voice stopping him.

“Freddie?”

“What is it darling?” The girl froze again, somewhat amazed that he wasn’t back to his unusually cold ways once again.

“Thanks, again… I won’t kiss you this time though- I promise.” She chuckled, her cheeks a little red as she sat up to face him in the doorway, a brave smile on her face even as while she felt like crying.

“You’re dangerous you know,” He scoffed, smiling sweetly. “Goodnight y/n.”

-

Fred thought it best that the girl rested up while he worked in the shop, leaving her to sleep in while George opened up. She had been confused, for a number of reasons, when she woke up in Fred’s bed still wearing her white dress.

It all came back to her. The unfulfilling date with Bill, the rain that she’d stood beneath as she saw a figure walk around in the loft above, the lights from the living room window, the kiss with fred.

“Oh you idiot!” She groaned again, reliving the moment that she’d realised how stupid she was being. He had spent the past week being a mute around her, and now she was dropping to her knees after one day of kindness. After all that, she had still thought there was a chance he liked her back.

She stumbled back to her room, still half-asleep, ignoring the way George frowned at her appearance as he served a customer on the tills. The room was still cluttered from the break-in, glass on the floor and a shattered lamp by the bed.

It had felt like a cage at the time, trapped in those stranger’s arms, but as she waved her wand and watched the mess disappear before her eyes, the memories didn’t seem all that constant anymore.

The girl looked into the small wardrobe, her collection of clothes barely filling it half-way, and picked out a black skirt and white shirt to pull on.

“Damn.” She looked in the mirror, her only bra’s black fabric showing through the button up. “Suppose I was too cold anyway.” The girl shrugged, grabbing a sweater vest and pulling it over the top.

“Scourgify.” She whispered, too behind on the day to waste time with a shower.

She was sitting on the small chair at her desk, pulling on a pair of boots so that she could leave the room and finally face the day with what little respect she had left for herself. But as her head lifted she spotted her pile of blank parchment stacked on the table before her.

The twins wouldn’t even notice her absence a few minutes more as she scratched out a quick letter, the girl decided, dipping her quill into the golden ink pot her father had gifted her one childhood birthday. It was one of the only things they had given her that she felt important enough to run away with.

Her thoughts felt rushed as she wrote, but all the same she didn’t hesitate to make her point very clear. Dear Bill, had felt appropriate, given that she praised him so highly in her mind. He was the perfect match, handsome and kind, and an all-round gentleman. But he wasn’t her perfect match, a fact that she was certain he already knew.

The final signature of her name was shaky, and full of nerves as it finally hit her that she was back to square one. Still confused, still wondering, and still somewhat alone.

-

George smiled widely when the girl reappeared from her bedroom, wearing a fresh set of clothes, and looking a bit more aware of everything as she approached him.

“Morning,” He grinned, leaning against the counter like he was expecting something from her. “Did you just get in?” He asked, regarding her previous outfit.

“No, I slept in Fred’s bed- where’s your owl I need to send a letter.”

The man almost choked on his sip of coffee, struggling to find the right words as she looked around for the bird that often perched on the higher shelves.

“You slept with Fred?” He gasped, but the girl wasn’t concentrating on him as she walked off, the envelope gripped between her two fingers.

Fred was busy looking over some invoices, and didn’t spot her pass by, so George dragged him over to the counter, where they were free of customers for the moment.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, pulling his brother closer as the girl wandered around nearby.

“Jesus George, what are you on about- let go of me.” He swatted the man’s hand away, taking a few hesitant steps away.

“You slept with y/n?” He accused him.

“No-” “Well she said she slept in your bed.”

“Yeah, I was on the sofa though. Just figured she wouldn’t want to be in her room after the other night, you know.”

George nodded slowly, choosing to believe his brother. After all, he would have been able to tell if the two of them actually had slept together, because fred would be jumping around the shop instead of walking.

“Is she okay?” Fred asked his brother, finally seeing her for the first time that morning, as she watched their owl fly out the open window.

“Not sure, she seemed a bit distracted this morning, how was she last night? Did she mention how the date went?” George wanted to know every detail, preferably from the girl herself, but it was obvious that would be harder than expected given that she had barely acknowledged their previous conversation.

“She said it was nice.” Fred told him. “Then she kissed me.”

“She what!” George’s voice was nothing shy of a yell, catching the attention of a small group of kids browsing their newest stock of screaming yo-yos.

“Keep it down will you?” His brother dragged him further behind the counter, out of sight of the girl, who hadn’t moved from her spot since her letter had been taken off into the sky.

“What about Bill- does he- oh god he’s gonna kill you!” George rambled, seemingly going through all stages of grief. If he had thought things were complicated for his twin before, this new information was sure to rock the boat.

“She’s not sure about Bill, I don’t think she had the best time on their date - and besides,” He peeked around the corner, making sure no one was going to walk into the middle of their hushed conversation. “-I don’t think the kiss meant much to her.” George’s face dropped. He hadn’t thought about Fred, or how it would bother him. His twin didn’t seem visibly annoyed by any of it, but he knew it would crush him to be toyed with by the girl he was so obviously infatuated with.

“So she doesn’t like Bill, and she doesn’t want you either?” “It’s not that simple Georgie.” Fred sighed, backing away and leaning up against the cool wall behind them. “It was pretty sudden, she probably wasn’t even thinking straight.”

“But-” “People are allowed to make mistakes, we can’t be annoyed because she messed up one time.” He explained, turning to leave.

“Freddie, you’re not the-” “I know.” He lied. He was the mistake.

-

For the rest of the day all three of the workers kept to themselves, finding solitary jobs to do to pass the time whenever the stream of customers died down. George knew he couldn’t say anything to the girl, presuming that she too had enough to deal with, but part of him resented her for putting Freddie through so much pain. Not that she even knew it.

It was dark when they finally closed up, the autumn season bringing with it shorter days of sunlight. Fred was busy in their office sorting out orders and George was counting up the day’s earnings, while y/n tidied shelves all around her.

The redhead could see how her eyes drifted to the same window she had watched out of earlier that morning, most likely expecting a response from whoever it was she had written to.

“I’ll meet you upstairs,” He came up behind her, the sound of his voice a surprise to the girl as she tensed up slightly. The man gave her a sympathetic smile as she nodded. “I’m cooking dinner tonight by the way, so um- bring the fire extinguisher will you?” He chuckled, a pang in his chest when she smiled weakly.

He had no real reason to hate her, especially since Freddie was forgiving of her moment of weakness. If he could be okay with it, then George would be to. It was as simple as that.

The man had been cooking for all of five minutes when his twin came to join him, offering to help out given that the girl would most likely not be up until the owl returned. They worked away in shared silence, the faint radio doing wonders to break the possible tension in the air.

George was pouring out a bottle of wine into three glasses when the girl padded into the kitchen, her big boots forgotten and a thick cardigan wrapped around her sunken frame. The two men stopped in their tracks at the sight of a piece of parchment between her fingers.

“I thought I should let you both know- because he’s your brother- and well, you deserve to know. But, there’s nothing between Bill and I anymore.” She croaked out, making it obvious that she had been crying.

“Oh- darling,” George whispered, reaching out on instinct for her to sink into his arms. It was strange, hearing it from Fred had filled him with so much anger, but then seeing how upset she was about it changed everything. Her body felt small against him, like she had sunk into the ground with every step up to the loft.

There was a small sob from the girl, almost incoherent, before she leant back and wiped her eyes dry, putting on her best smile and sighing.

“It’s okay, everything’s fine- it’s for the best.” She told them, laughing lightly at the way Fred held out the wine to her, unsure what else would help in that moment with his brother already comforting the girl.

-

The subject of Bill was avoided for most of the night, as they ate dinner together and finished off another couple bottles of wine between them as if things were normal again. George, of course, acted like the true older brother he was and did all he could to make sure y/n was cared for.

Fred took the backseat, letting her be doted on like a child with scraped knees, in fact it was a similar scene to when their own mother could comfort them when they were younger. That must have been where George got it from.

After a while Fred’s other half passed out on the back of the sofa, half-empty glass of wine still in hand. The girl chuckled, her mind still on other things as they kept quiet as not to wake the sleeping man.

“You tired?” Fred whispered, his legs slumped onto the coffee table. The girl just shook her head, the smile on her face fading as she realised that was the first time he’d spoken to her directly all evening.

The man stood up, taking an unopened bottle from the table and nodded towards the door.

“What?” She asked, hesitant to follow.

“I wanna show you something.” He smiled sweetly, slipping a pair of shoes on and heading for the loft door.

He disappeared into the darkness, the faint sound of the girl’s questioning tone following him out to the shop landing.

“Where are you going?” She asked, seeing him push back the curtain that turned left at the top of the stairs, instead of right into the loft. “I thought there wasn’t anything back here.”

“There isn’t, just a load of junk.” He told her, talking normally now that george was out of earshot. “But at the end of this hallway,” He flicked his wand, letting the small ball of light show the way, “-there’s a ladder.” “Fred, can you just tell me what’s going on.” “No freddie?” He frowned childishly, his face cast into a shadow.

“Huh?” “You always call me freddie, why not now?” The girl blushed at the way he picked up on a habit even she had failed to notice all this time, shoving his shoulder in an attempt to distract him.

“Because you’re leading me down a creepy hallway, possibly to kill me, in the middle of the night.”

Fred scoffed, ignoring her to climb a few rungs up the ladder.

“Well if I took you in the daytime,” He stopped climbing. “Then the view wouldn’t be so good now would it?” The man smirked.

“What view?”

One hand reached up above his head, the small bit of light from his wand revealing a trap door. Fred pushed it open, the stars above them shining down as he stuck his head out the top.

“This view!” He announced, jumped out of the trap door and onto the roof, leaning down to offer a hand for the girl below. Her jaw hung open in awe as she caught her footing on the top of the building, the sight of the city even further below taking her breath away.

“I knew you’d like it,” Freddie laughed, sitting at the edge and pulling open the wine bottle. Behind him, the girl’s eyes shone.

“Why haven’t you ever mentioned this place?” She was still in shock, the roof couldn’t even be seen from the alley below them, it was so high up.

“It’s sort of my secret, even from George.” “You haven’t told him? Surely he must know about it?” She laughed, taking a seat beside him and drinking from the bottle he offered out to her.

“Well I stumbled across it the day we moved in, we had no use for that weird hallway so neither of us bothered to do anything with it. We only found out about it when we got a leak, and George made me go up here and fix it.”

“Still, he knows the roof is here.” She scoffed, leaning into his side as the sight before her became hypnotising against his words.

“Of course, except he thinks it’s smashed to pieces and basically too dangerous to venture onto.” Fred explained.

“Why would he think that?” “Because that’s what I told him, duh.” He shook her one shoulder, leaving an outstretched arm around her as she rested against him so naturally.

“You really are cruel Fred Weasley.” She laughed.

Fred looked down, not trying to catch her eye, but just to take her all in as they basked in this beautiful moment. He had missed her laughter, even if it had only been a short amount of time, and hearing it again felt like a wave of calm washing over him.

-

The pair of them stayed up on that roof all night, their legs swinging off the side of the building until y/n fell asleep slumped against Fred. The man decided it was best to let her lay down away from the edge, just in case she slumped too far forward and fell.

He watched her sleep for a few moments, then laid on his back beside her and watched the stars as they twinkled above them. The girl beside him murmured in her sleep, something he had noticed when she had slept under his watch after the break-in.

At the time he had assumed it was just because she was having nightmares, but now he was close enough to catch passing words as they fell from her dainty lips.

Sorry… I can’t …. Please d-don’t

“Y/n,” He whispered, shaking her shoulder slightly. “Come on, let’s go inside.” “Not yet.” She mumbled back, rolling onto her back and breathing a few heavy breaths.

He let her watch the sky in silence, fearful that he would break her moment of solace with any stupid statement.

“I wrote to Bill.” She said, her gaze unmoving.

“Oh- right…” “It was his reply that I had earlier, that’s why I was - you know.”

“Of course, I’m sorry about all that.” Fred didn’t want to pry any further, but the girl wanted him to know.

“I don’t think either of us really expected things to be so- just okay-” “I get that,” The man nodded.

“He wasn’t right for me, and I wasn’t right for him either- it’s just hard to admit it.”

The skin on her hand was cold as she reached for fred’s, slipping their fingers together gently as she spoke.

“It’s funny really- he said something in his letter about you.” She chuckled, finally looking over at the man who couldn’t take his own eyes off of her.

“Oh god, I can’t imagine it was anything good.” He scoffed, smiling at her rosy cheeks.

“Actually… he said he thinks we might be a good match.”

“Did you-” “No, I didn’t tell him a-about the kiss.” She seemed ashamed again, the same way she had the night it had happened.

“So he just has this feeling about us?” Fred asked, an air of disbelief in his words.

The girl laid her head back again, nestling into the man’s side and looking up again as they hid out on the highest point of the alleyway. Bill had to be right about them.

Y/n hadn’t met many people in her lonely life but she knew that, as Fred held her close, no one else compared to the way he made her feel. She would give up everything if it meant just one more night of staring up at the stars with him at her side.

“I think he’s right.” The deep voice beside her spoke, with searing pride.

[cd-head]

As fragile as glass

TW: Blood (its barely mentioned but ts just in case), crying, abuse, beer, scars

Characters: Xisuma, Beef (Minor, mostly just mentioned), Etho, and Stress

This is a AU I made, everyone has superpowers and such, I know typical, suck it (/lh /j), Beef has nature powers, Etho has ice powers, Xisuma has mind power stuff (idk the word and im to tired to look it up), and Stress has healing powers

Etho is six, so is Beef but I dunno if that is really needed to know. Stress is 11 and Xisuma is 23

- Keep warnings in mind - 

----

As fragile as glass he was told he was.

A simple push could cause the whole world to shake as he fell apart. Small pieces laying on the ground remaining of what he used to be. Scars that dared to litter his body and mind deep into itself.

A monster he was called so a monster he shall be, baring his teeth to protect himself and hiding away to keep his memories and peace to himself. As frost covered his body, littering himself in the ice of his own lost mind.

For the silence and loneliness was unbarble but the forgotten boy wouldnt mind. Staying quiet to himself, few to no friends to his name, scars digging deep into his bones and skin reminstic of what he was.

Frosty white hair that fit his face perfectly, as a flower would a stem. Pale white skin that looked like snow that youd see littered out on your lawn, fragile and yet strong and persistent. A thin mask that hid the horrors of the scars of his face, always reminding him of the pain that he had bore once and wished to never live through again.

A small tap would be all it would take to break him, thats what everyone would think of him so they kept his distance from the glass man. The boy did not mind, for even if others would speak to him, his voice was a soft whisper that flooded out and was lost to the sea. Like a soft ticking of a clock that you only will hear if you focus hard enough.

For the boy himself did not mind being ignored, in fact, he found it peaceful.

Least thats what he told himself, but the bruises on his body begged for someone to see them. The bags under his eyes cried out for a rest, that was no closer than he wished. The redness of his eyes and the strikes on his face curled up in a corner, wishing to go unnoticed and yet reaching out a hand to anyone close enough.

He needed help though the boy would never admit it while the fighting at home would ring out like a sirens call, the boy sat quietly on his bed while watching the stars twinkle in the skys as the moon played him a special melody just for him, distracting him from the tears that pooled from his eyes and the pain radiating in his side.

For while those mismatched eyes stared out to the night sky, watching and listening to the night music that blocked out the sound of the horrors around him. 

That night, the frost boy dreamed of a man. A man with kind purple eyes and black hair that would save him from the nightmare he had everyday that was inescapable. For when the boy tugged up his mask, barely paying mind to the broken glass on the floor other than to avoid.

The frost boy tugged on his vest but before he could leave, a rough hand landed on his shoulder. Not caring that the small boy tensed up and snow was now appearing on their fingers, the person leaned down and a gruff unloving voice filled the young boys ears. “Get your fucking shit packed up Etho.”

His hand didnt leave so the masked boy nodded, relishing when the touch left and the boy made their way to their room. Packing what little he had and not bothering to remove the frost from him.

Etho, that was the boys name, the name he heard a teacher say but it was said normally so kindly that the forst boy would not flinch, the name that the other little boy who had kind brown eyes and fluffy brown hair would call him so friendly. He would only flinch at the name when it left that old mans mouth, knowing that no good would come from the man.

He trailed away from his thoughts about his father to his best friend, or well, his only friend. The ice boy was the only one who didnt mind the bloodied apron and never questioned where the blood was from, instead, he choose to look into that boy and they became close friends.

He wondered if the kind boy would be at wherever he was going as he flooded his clothing and closed the bag he had, he carefully reached up and tugged his old ripped up plushie to his chest. Hunger screamed in his stomach and he ignored it as he nuzzled his head into the rough fabric of the toy.

A loud ringing noise rang out through the small apartment and Etho’s hands rushed up to cover his ears. Loud noises never mixed well with the young ice master before he quickly picked up the old toy that he had dropped and pulled on the backpack and shuffled over to where his bed was and lifted himself up onto it. Waiting to be called out.

At the door, stood a man with purple eyes and scars lining his face but unlike the boy, he did not hide the scars that mixed into his gray skin. His black hair pulled back into a small ponytail and a young lady stood at his side with her arms crossed and a small frown framing her normally friendly features, her light brown hair pulled up into a ponytail and her brown eyes held hatred for the old beer smelling man in front of him.

The beer smelling man was going on a rant about how he was so sorry about letting his ‘precious baby boy’ go. 

Xisuma saw through the act, and as he could guess by the bitter glare Stress was giving the horrid man, she did as well.

But he didnt have to make a move as the girl did before he could. “Where is Etho.” She choose to ignore how the man finally lit up a bit at remembering that he was getting rid of the boy at last. She choose to ignore how the fridge was open and there was only beer and food that a six-year-old should not eat.

She ignored it as she walked past the old man and her guardian to move where the man had gestured to a frosted covered door. She carefully wiped off the soft fuzzy ice from the door handle that melted from her body heat almost right away and gently knocked, waiting for a reply.

Stress could just barely make out the sound but she heard a soft - “come in” fill her ears. So the woman turned the handle and walked inside, she paid no mind to how cold it was in the ice covered room and instead focused on the small boy who was swaying his feet.

His strachy white hair no where close to the mans dark gray hair, his eyes were different perfect colors, his right one a light brown color and the left one that had that long scar over it was tinted red, as if it had abrosed blood and took it in to give itself vision once more. He was wearing fingerless gloves and she could see that the tips of his fingers were a light blue.

She kneeled in front of the young boy and gave him a gentle smile, one the boy would remember for years past and forever thankfully of. “Hello there... My names Stress, you must be Etho?” At the small nod that the boy gave her, her smile grew more warm and welcoming that it had the damaged boy shuffling a bit closer to feel the safety she seemed to give off.

“You wanna come with me?” Stress asked gently, holding out her hand but she stayed still other than that. Not forcing Etho to make a action, she was pleasantly surprised when a freezing cold hand rested in hers and clung desperately, as if terrified she’d go if he let go.  “yes please...”

Stress carefully sat up and pulled the boy with her, letting him get used to being on his feet and she led the way out of the frozen room. She took note of how light and underweight the boy was and she pushed past the disgusting man and looked to Xisuma who gave her a short smile and the three left without saying anymore.

But surprisingly enough, a small voice broke the pleasant silence.  “is beef gonna be where im going?”

Xisuma gave him a small smile and Stress came to a stop while X moved around and kneeled down in front of the young boy and he placed his hand ontop of the soft curly white hair. His heart hurt a bit when the boy flinched but it was repaired quickly when Etho leaned into the friendly touch. “Yeah kid... hes waiting for you at the house right now, as well as all of your new family.”

And thats all the boy needed to hear before his dull eyes lit up.

And somehow,

Just somehow.

The boy knew, 

These people were safe.

[marabrosca]

[REUPLOAD] No Rest For The “Wicked” (Iron Bull x Lavellan)

a commission for @silversong79

words: 2k

summary: Guilt follows the Inquisitor into her sleep, and Bull is there to bring her back to reality. But when reality and dreams are the same, what is she to do?

tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, soft, cuddling, red templars

Read it on AO3 

Summer was admittedly not the most favorable time of the year, Iolanthe would say. Between the rare waves of heat, the occasional crop drought, and the Halla being harder to keep track of as they sprung about the plains; she was happy it didn’t last long. But what good would she be at her job if she didn’t strengthen her nerve? Her clan and the Halla needed her to do her duty, to keep them safe, even when it meant sweating through her tunic until it needed to be peeled away from her skin. Even when her feet swelled in her boots and her back ached, she’d return them all home by nightfall. Nothing allowed her to sleep better than knowing her clan was safe, and knowing that they could come to her in their time of need.

When she saw the Keeper approaching, eyes set hard, she forgot about the Halla, and the pasture.

“Is something wrong?” “We need to speak.” The Keeper responded, disappointment in her voice.

“What happened? Did I do something wro-”

In a flash the staff she had been using to herd was ripped from her hands, and the Keeper shook her head with a tsk.

“Look at what you’ve done, child.” The words struck hard in the elf’s ears, even if she didn’t know why she was being scolded.

“Can’t even hold your weapon properly, and just look at what happened there.” The old woman’s finger pointed to a spot on the ground, but nothing seemed wrong with it. There was just grass and dirt. Iolanthe stared at the older woman in silent confusion, only being met with a steely glare, and the elder began to pace back and forth. Iolanthe bent down to examine the grass, then opted to kneel when she was sureshe had missed something.

“What…do you mean?” Iolanthe asked with a shuddering breath.

The Keeper didn’t answer, just continued to pace, eyes staring hard at the ground. Another tremble shot up Iolanthe’s back, and it was then that she finally noticed her breath- that it was, well, there. Visible. She shifted her knees, and the grass answered with a dry, miserable crack. She looked down, and it had all turned black. Was it burnt? Her hand reached down to touch it and, no, it wasn’t singed. It was quite wet, in fact, like it had just been smothered in snow. Iolanthe retracted her hand, lifting her head to focus again on the Keeper, who paced in deafening silence.

Cassandra now turned to face her, a hard expression pressing her features tightly together.

“I can not say I trust you with this,” the Keeper’s voice spoke from the Seeker’s mouth “but we have no other choice. You let everyone else die.”

Iolanthe was wracked with shivering now. Wind had picked up all around her and was beginning to slash her skin whenever it pleased. The cold, heavy armor laid on her like dead weight, and she could barely hear the Keeper’s words over her chattering teeth. It hurt. Everything hurt.

Without thinking she stood, suddenly, and when she focused her eyes again she was on a mountainside. It was so high up she swore she was in the heavens, above all Thedas and all life. The pitch black of the night left nothing to be discovered aside from the faintest twinkling of snow that piled high to her knees. Her breathing was ragged now, and once again she was left alone, waiting, in the dark. Her legs dare not move in fear of falling down a slope.

As she was about to cry out, desperate for any other presence, the Anchor on her arm lit up in a flash, making her reel backwards. Not a moment later, the snow glowed a dim, eerie red. It stretched for miles; and before she could process the image before her, the red shone even brighter. Harsh, red light illuminated every expanse of ground with such intensity that it could not be directly looked at. And there was heat. So much heat. Heat enough to burn the underside of her boots, to chase away the frigid mountain air.

She turned to run, not knowing exactly where, but away. Tears pricked the edges of her eyelids, catching the wind and making them sting. A rumble and the echo of rocks falling apart followed her heels, until she stumbled and fell to the restless earth. Cracks began to form in the mountain’s hard surface, that bright red light growing stronger.

“Stop! Stop it!”

The earth responded with a great split, and from it arose the tip of a crystal. The hue was a blindingly scarlet, and it seemed to radiate a vibration that turned Iolanthe’s stomach. Her hands made contact with the ground and she began pushing herself away from the intrusion, gasping as it rose higher, the mass of it uprooting the stone. With dawning horror she realized that the crystal in front her could only be red lyrium. The kind she had only seen one other time so far.

“No…oh Gods no…”

What she saw next nearly stopped her heart. Long, gray, craggily fingers wormed themselves from deep below, followed by sodden hands and arms. Bright red glowed in the veins of the rotting flesh. One of the hands shot up and grabbed her ankle, pulling her several inches forward towards the split that was gaping wider and wider. Iolanthe reached for her sword but it was gone. She tried to scream but it was drowned under horrid cries from the creatures down below. The creatures…

The Red Templars.

Guilt and shame and fear overwhelmed her as more hands yanked on her boots, moaning and wailing as if in harmony. “Help us…you did this…You…” Red smoke ascended into the air with each word, it stung like acid, and made Iolanthe choke.

Neon light blinded her as she was nearly dragged over the edge, not being able to find the strength to pull herself up.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

And then she fell.  

Iolanthe shot up and awake, letting out a shriek she barely registered, as it mixed with the still-echoing wails bouncing back and forth in her mind. Sweat soaked through her shirt, eyes darting wildly, breaking through the haze of her visions. She came-to enough to realize it wasn’t the hands of corpses constricting her, but rather the sheets she had tangled up, no doubt from thrashing in her unrest.

Gone were the moans and screams of the corrupted. Gone were their rigid, sharp digits on her skin. And gone was the red smoke that choked her through her tears. Iolanthe looked down at the sheets around her legs and felt her whole body quake. Only two breaths managed to escape before she dropped her head to her knees, sobbing. Was she being punished? Was she an offense to the Gods for fighting under this Andraste? How many more people were going to be hurt because of her?

The Red Templars had been her fault. Their corruption was the result of her taking up more power than she deserved, more than she could handle. And failing. Then they had come to kill everyone else, and were still out there. Corypheus would infect them, turn them into monsters like him, and she’d stand between them and the world, and do nothing. Because she couldn’t. Her whole life had become a joke, and the Anchor had become a death sentence.

She was about to cry again when a sudden crash and heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs ripped her from her grief, but her mind was still drowning in the visions, and didn’t even recognize the sound until a massive great-axe poked out from the lower half of the stairs.

“Boss! Are you alright?” Iolanthe’s gasp caught in her throat, mouth agape in confusion until Bull rose to her line of sight. His head swiveled, eye focused on the dark room for an assailant, but he was quick to see there was none.

“Boss?” he said again, chest heaving from the adrenaline, still not letting his guard down.

Silence stretched between them as she stared at him with wide eyes. Her breath came out in small puffs, mouth dry and face wet from tears.

“What are you doing up here?” her voice croaked in a whisper, a simple question, as if nothing had happened. The Qunari’s weapon slowly descended to his side, marking the confusion in her expression, and the glossy distance in her eyes. Had she not heard herself screaming? Another minute of silence passed, and he decided to place his weapon at the banister and walk carefully to her side.

“You were screaming for help. Were you asleep?” Iolanthe slowly turned her head from him, staring blankly ahead. He let her breathe and process what was going on, and when she did, it was evident. Tears sprang a new, and a shaky exhale left her lips. As soon as the sobbing returned, Bull sat himself on the side of the bed and pulled the Inquisitor to his chest. A massive hand stroked the back of her neck and black hair, and the other arm wrapped around her back. It was painful to hear this, but he had to let it ride out to find out what was causing it.

They don’t know how long the sobbing and sniffing and gasping continued; but when the storm was ebbed, blue-green eyes –now also mixed with red- looked him in the face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The Qunari brushed some tears off her face and peeled away sticking wet hair.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he answered, softly, a part of him that was just for her. His arm didn’t leave her when she sat up, wiping her face roughly against her shirt-sleeve. There was frustration, then, along with distress. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to think about it- the dream. I-I don’t want to talk-” “Ssh, it’s alright. You don’t have to.” Iolanthe’s torso jumped with an involuntary sniff. She wished she could just stop crying already. The longer it went on, the more it felt like she lost, like the terror had gotten the better of her and wouldn’t leave. She’d never survive like that.

“How did you hear me screaming from all the way downstairs?” Bull’s eyebrows shot up, then he turned his head…almost sheepishly?

“I, um,” he coughed out “I wasn’t downstairs. You’ve been…off, all day, jumpy. It was bothering you to be left alone. Something was telling me to wait, just in case.”

Iolanthe rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, eyes stinging.

“Thank you.” it was a whisper, but she knew he had heard it when his lips touched her forehead. The kiss had been a surprise, much gentler and intimate than what they normally did, but she sunk into it.

“If you were in need of help you should have asked. You don’t have to put the weight of the world on your back.” “Yes I do, I don’t have a choice.” “No, you have people here that will help you. You have me.” “…I know. I just feel like…the more I talk about it…acknowledging it will make it stronger.”

“No. Keeping things to yourself until you fall apart is only going to hurt you. I’m here for you, and not just for the job.”

This time he kissed her cheek, barely brushing her skin, and she let out a relieved sigh. There was a warmth in her face now, and a feeling of change in that room. Her head rested back on his chest, breathing finally becoming smooth.

“Are you alright now, Kadan?”

She barely processed the name, opting to nod and squeeze his hand.

“Stay with me?” “I’ll stay here all night if you want me to.” “…I do.”

Their bodies moved until they laid flat, Iolanthe’s upper body now resting on his. She could almost purr at the gentle fingers in her hair.

She didn’t sleep that night, even with her eyes closed Bull could tell, and he stayed there all night. He’d be by her side no matter what. After all, killing demons is what he did best; be it on the battlefield or right there, in the heart of the woman he…

Loves.

[jae-canikeepyou]

| bad boy | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: au a/n: idk the specific genre for this. can anyone suggest besides au? xD enjoy ~j

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the night crawled in and daylight instantly disappeared. you couldn’t believe how time had passed when all you did was study for the final exams this semester. passing the course was all you wanted, hopeful for the grades you were to get would be more than satisfactory.

city’s lights shone and twinkled like stars, slightly blinding your sight when your eyes recovered from the dimmed street ahead. the broken lamppost blinked several times before its shortage came, and you were stuck in darkness. only for awhile though, because at the third street was where your car parked. screw the campus for having limited parking slots.

you hoped your tired mind was playing you as you stood by your car.

there were footsteps.

and continuous uneven breaths.

it seemed the person was running. or being chased? you didn’t know but in all honesty who would run at this hour? it was nearing midnight. wouldn’t make any sense if there people to exercise now. you let it slide until you fumbled your bag for the keys. though it wasn’t anything to be worried about, your hunch said otherwise.

you unlocked your car but before you could even get on, a yank pulled you from behind, an arm wrapping your entire frame while the other covered your mouth. struggling to escape you stepped on this person’s foot, elbowing their torso.

but their was no effect. they only tightened their grip onto you.

the worse part?

a sharp item pointed at your back.

you knew if you moved any longer they will pursue injuring you. sweat rolled down your temples as you stood there, waiting for their comment.

“you’re a coward for bringing an innocent into this mess.” a voice made you shot up in front you. “did you really think you would escape from this?”

with the dark sky and dimmed lamppost, there was no way of distinguishing the person. their silhouette was too far in the distance, well maybe at least to your view.

“i’ll injure her!” the man yelled behind you, yet his voice quivered at the other’s tone.

“what will you gain from it? confidence? sure. guilt? possible.” he paused. “don’t even make me mention the worse case scenario. i guarantee it’ll haunt you.”

the sharp item behind you was given more pressure onto your flesh. from the feel of it, it was definitely a dagger. tiny but deadly. you could lose a lot of blood from this. the other man came forward and under the blinking lamppost.

ah.. it was someone you knew, too well. actually, the city you lived in knew him too well.

jung jaehyun, a.k.a the bad boy.

the nickname itself was not self-explanatory, rather an acronym given to him— beautiful and dangerous boy. his face could lure you into his crime and force you to handle it while he watched from afar, observing how you would do. you thought it was over the top but tonight proved you different.

he was.. dangerously attractive. a look at him could swoon ladies but his being was too dangerous at the same time. thus gaining the name. even the so-called strongest gang couldn’t stand against him. these were only rumors but you were slowly believing them.

“let the lady go and we’ll deal with this nicely.” jaehyun smirked.

a loud whistle escaped from the man’s lips, deafening your hearing for a whole second. figures and silhouettes appeared at every location your eyes could see. you gasped at the numbers and as you looked at jaehyun, he didn’t seem to give a damn. he eyed every one of them with a smile of disbelief.

“beat the crap out of jaehyun! i want him dead meat.” the man scowled with gritted teeth.

“i see you still have underlings! way to go for the intimidation!” jaehyun applauded.

before you even know it, he was swarmed with man’s underlings. like a movie, jaehyun’s movements appeared slow motion that you could see every action he did for offense. the man clicked his tongue and pulled you close. you decided not to be a damsel in distress of anybody, let along jung jaehyun, even if tonight seemed like he was to save you.

you couldn’t tolerate the man’s grip onto your body. so you stomped his foot again and gave him an uppercut as you turned to face him. the dagger fell from his hold and immediately you kicked it to the nearest drainage of a street pavement. he attempted punches but given his posture, he was already injured, where his polo shirt was slowly damped with blood.

the yells from behind went softer as the bodies of the underlings were either unconscious or had ran away. jaehyun too was close to losing consciousness. you feared of being involved in this mess and rushed to your car. hands currently shook at the situation.

“woman! you-” the man’s yell made you turn to him where he fumbled his pockets, bringing out a hand gun. he aimed at you as you had closed your eyes when you pulled onto the car’s handle. though you screamed in fear, you instinctively covered yourself as you ducked.

gunshot.

everything happened so fast that luckily you had gotten inside on time. the man ran off, yes, but you realized your car door was open.

jaehyun sat by your car.

and he was shot.

“hey,” he called out. “c-can i get in?”

did he just.. chuckle? he was injured and you knew you couldn’t leave him there. from his position now, he was facing you. your conscience told you he saved you.

the jung jaehyun saved you.

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“agh-” jaehyun glared at you. “watch it!” he hissed at the sting from medication and your touch. his eyes boring into yours.

“tsk, if you could just move a little forward-” you butt back as you gently supported his torso against yours, wrapping surgical tape around his.

your mind flashed back to the sound of the gunshot. it still ringed your ears. jaehyun have asked you to bring him to the nearest hospital, but it would be a long drive. hesitant but grateful for him, you decided to bring him to your apartment since it was a ten minute drive.

“i’m glad this is only grazed by the bullet.” jaehyun chuckled and you kept quiet. “if it did hit me, you’d be suspected of murder.”

“i won’t be suspected since i don’t possess such a weapon. and besides i know how the man looked like in case police did ask me.” you clicked your tongue. “there, all done. you may leave.”

jaehyun looked at you, amused at your response. “ooh thanks. by the way-”

“don’t act friendly just because i treated your wound.” you furrowed your brows.

“but i’m grateful for you. i could lose a lot of blood if not tended immediately.” he drank from his cup you prepared him earlier.

“you could feel all kinds of emotion toward me but you’re just another-”

“i was.” he said in a low voice, sitting down on the sofa with arms rested behind his head. he knew what you were getting onto. “i left the city because i wanted to change. i don’t know but the rumors you heard was the 17 year-old jaehyun, the old me. now that i’ve come back, i sought a better life and enjoying it.”

you couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth but from the looks in his eyes, maybe it was real. you jutted your lips, stood there in silence as you held the first aid kit. “i’m sorry i assumed that. i also came back to this city because my parents relocated their office.”

jaehyun smiled, and you swore you felt the tingles. he stood up to approach you and thought you were cute, then he decided to play a little game.

you cleared your throat when you both exchanged eye contact. “i’m just gonna put these back-”

“ow i think i accidentally opened the incision.” jaehyun said in pain, making you rush to him.

“you stood up too quickly jaehyun.” you said irritably, checking the bandage you had wrapped. “yep i think it’s bleeding.”

he laughed and his voice was like music to your ears. no wonder he swooned ladies in an instant. it wasn’t the time to be admiring him when you clearly have to replace the bandage. you looked at him above you and he was already staring. “i’m just kidding.” he shrugged jokingly. “it’s the medication that stained it.”

your head probably boiled into the highest temperature your body could handle. he played you and wasted your time when you could’ve slept immediately if he had left. grabbing the first aid kit, you went to the kitchen to return to its place. jaehyun seemed he didn’t want to leave just yet. it was two in the morning and gosh you really wanted to hit the sack.

“you should be able to distinguish meds and wounds.” he pointed at his waist where the wound was. “you’re training for e.m.t right?”

“okay, not only you’re an ex-juvenile but a stalker too?” you spat.

“no, i’m also training for e.m.t, y/n.” he smirked. “wow kinda mean when you don’t recognize a classmate.”

your name escaped his lips, mentioning it like you both were close, while you’ve never run into him at lectures or seen him around the campus.

“uh-huh.. hey if you’re in the e.m.t, you could’ve treated the wound yourself.” you face-palmed.

“i actually could, but why waste my chances of getting this treated by a pretty lady?” jaehyun said, still a smile on his face.

okay confirmed he got a way with his words.

it wasn’t that he was pissing you off, but rather how he could make you swoon even if he didn’t intend to. he did mention he was a changed man. you looked at him, awestruck.

your door slammed open and you were sure it was locked. boys around your age or maybe younger came rushing to jaehyun, all worried, as seen in their expressions. they were too many for your brain to even count. you stood there, exchanging glances at the strangers and your now knocked down, broken door.

“jae! your tracker said you were here!” “you weren’t replying! you got us worried!” “don’t run off like that.” “vice capt!”

“ahem.” you cleared your throat as the guys turned to where you were. “i met an ex-juve, heard gunshots, treated the guy and now nine people broke my door? gosh i just want to sleep!”

“i’m sorry y/n, i’ll ask them to leave.” jaehyun stood up, later bending at the injury.

“oh what’s this jaehyun? you’ve got a gang leader who shot you, his underlings nearly beat you to a pulp just because you told him ‘did you really think you’d escape from this?’ and now you have underlings too? trackers? vice capt? agh i’m going crazy. i’m calling the cops.” you said in one breath.

“whoa hold on miss. don’t call the cops because i think there’s a misunderstanding going on here. my name’s mark by the way. hyung’s just chasing that gang because they tried to lure the kids from the orphanage downtown.” mark waved his hands, gesturing you to stop dialing.

“we swore to protect the kids.” jaehyun said, his friends agreeing to him.

the orphanage?

“both dr. y/l/n are such good people.” the tallest one said.

“you’ve met my parents?” you asked them.

“they come to the orphanage a lot, to give the kids check-ups. we’ve gotten close within days.” jaehyun stood up, who was soon supported by two other boys of his height. “guys just fix y/n’s door and wait for me downstairs.” like ducklings to the mother, they all followed his orders.

you helped jaehyun walk to your hallway. he saw how tired you were and decided he’d call it a night. meanwhile, the large arm wrapped around your shoulders pulled you to a hug.

“jaehyun, what are you doing?” you mumbled on his clothing. “just because you’re close with my parents, doesn’t mean it’s the same for me.”

“aren’t we close now?” he asked.

“oh my g- jung jaehyun, not literally.” you sighed.

he pulled you away, and rubbed your head. “i’m kidding, y/n.”

“you better be, because i really want to slee-” you froze at his action, where he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“thanks for not leaving me out in the street. you should come to the orphanage with your parents next time. i’ll be happy to see you again.” he smiled as he closed your apartment door, but this one was the final shot for you.

the city gave him an accurate name after all.

jung jaehyun, a beautiful and dangerous boy.

[claihn]

Impulse

[[ Warning: Bugs. Violence. Language. ]] 

“So... you're not mad?”   Two shadows flickered against the wooden wall opposite from twin flickering candles. The lights rested upon a table nestled against a window frame and a blanket of stars twinkled behind the glass. The familiar scent of the ocean, leather and spice blanketed Kini like an old shawl that threatened to tempt her into relaxation. This was a quiet place that was absent of confusion, muddling ideas and loud voices. “No,” A'khato rumbled. His large, calloused hands navigated a roll of bandages with meticulous precision around his sister's fingers. Her other arm was already fully wrapped with snug support that covered the entirety of her hands all the way up to her elbows. She winced when he brought a cloth, saturated in pungent minty mix, and wiped at some of the blistered lacerations. The area was then patted dry before he went to work again, little by little bandaging up her injuries. “Why?”  Kini couldn't help but whisper, biting her lower lip. Her watery blue eyes surveyed his stern features, noting how there was an edge to his expression, but it was distant. Almost satisfied. His medium-length, wild cut locks of ebony hair were tousled in various directions and the charcoal paint on his cheek was smudged to the side. His motions paused and his lips pursed at her question, until he dragged his gaze up at her with a flicker of annoyance.  Kini winced an apologetic smile and ducked her head with ears flattening sideways. Oops. “You've always been impulsive. Do better next time. This mistake could've made you useless, and don't let it slow down your work.” He reprimanded her, although his words were flat and bored sounding. He went back to navigating the bandages. The silence between them grew palpable, as was the knowledge that both siblings knew the question was unanswered. He'd given a response, of course. Yet just as A'khato could read Kini with little trouble, so could she pick up on his tells. He was calm, but he was too focused on simple motions. His tail was actively twitching back and forth.   What aren't you telling me? She knew better than to prod an agitated King. At least this time.

She had her back pressed against the warm, stoned wall of the hallway. He smelled like ale and herbs, especially as he crowded his body against hers. Pudgy, greedy hands wandered over her frame and Kini could feel his breath against her right ear. It made her flinch and she'd asked him politely to leave that side alone, but for some reason people always mistook her. Clearly she trembled because she enjoyed it. She flinched because it was sensitive. She was just playing coy.  I hate it. Her eyes were glancing past him though, and instead she absently nodded at the words he was mumbling. Something about smells and fancy clothes. It was hard to hear when he was mouth breathing against her right side instead of her left. She found herself focusing on the light beneath the crack of the doorway that led into the living room. Kini could faintly hear the deep, baritone voice of her brother along with a higher, barked voice of the woman he was meeting with. This was a job that her brother had asked her to come along as a temptation. Almost like old times, except now he thought she should be better as a “professional” distraction. Kini didn't mind. It gave her a flutter of happiness to be of use on one of his missions, even if it was a boring one without any fighting. Those were always her favorite. She enjoyed using her magic to assist him, while he killed anything that stood in his way. He was a force of nature. A force of nature that sometimes she was lucky enough to protec-no. Assist. Behold. Adore. “Fucking distracted?!” The man hissed as he gripped the top of her shoulder and gave her a shake. Kini's eyes snapped back to attention to flash him a delicate, apologetic wince. “S-sorry! I just thought I heard something. You seem very nice.” She bumbled out the words, although the stuffy man sneered in response. His fingers dug a little more into her skin, while the other scrunched up the airy, cotton fabric of her skirt and began to roughly yank at it. Once, twice and then the sound of tearing along with the painful stretch of the opposite side cutting into her skin announced the gaining success of his goal.   “Even dressed up all fancy, guess you're still just a novice whore, huh? That's fine. You're gonna be here a loooong time. Plenty of suns, moons to train you to be a real slut.”  His eyes glittered darkly and Kini felt a lump rise in her throat, even more than his pressing weight.   “N-no. I'm j-just here as my brother's assistant. When he's done, I have to leave too. I already have a jo-” Her words were cut off by a barking laugh from the man. His greasy fingers on her shoulders instead moved to her neck and he leaned into the motion. Kini acted on instinct and drew in a quick, squelched gasp before a pressured strain began to build in her face from the lack of air. “Stupid kitten. Your brother is going to die here tonight. All this is just a wasted effort and he just brought a little prize for our game. So jus-” 

The man was still talking, but the rest of his words drizzled away. Perhaps it was the frantic pounding of her heart or the pressure in her ears. Your brother is going to die. Why was it always her brother? A furrowed brow from a stranger. A clatter of knives. A bite to the neck. Desperation. Panic. A murmur of disapproval. Warm, questioning words between sips of honey-mead. Isolation. A threatened hand. I need him. My savior. My King. Don't take him away from me. Don't take him away from me. Don'ttakehimawayfromme! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HIM. Kini's eyes widened as they locked onto the man, but there was no flicker of fear. There was a heavy pause of staring into the eyes like an unhinged doll before silvery blue light spilled from her pupils to engulf her vision. She grabbed the man's arms, nails digging like a vice with a false sense of strength. The warm, pleasant air of the room plummeted like a stone and the man felt an annoying, tiny bite upon his wrist. Then another upon his elbow. Two near his hands. Two became four, four became twenty, twenty became a hundred and the biting pinpricks rapidly dominated his body. Kini stared blankly at him, ignoring the growing chill of his body as rime formed upon her own arms, harmlessly blossoming here or there upon the man's own bulbous form. He, however, stared in horror as skittering, chittering bugs of all shapes and sizes burrowed their way out of his skin. They tore through muscle, wriggling and bulging just underneath flesh. Thousands of legs tickled at every inch of him, both inside and out. They filled his lungs. They consumed his tongue. They crawled over his eyes and churned in his stomach. The man screamed, threw Kini to the side and fled to the door. He battered against it once, twice and three times before he broke his nose but managed to get it open.   A'khato and the woman inside both started from where they sat across from each other at a dining table. The man barely made through the entrance before he collapsed on the floor, spasming and spittling at the mouth. His scream was silent, skin sickly but otherwise alive even if he looked blankly to the side from his new slobbering spot upon the floor. No bugs. No blood. Only flecks of inconsequential ice. 

Kini's eyes had returned to normal and she staggered through the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her face was blanched, breath heavy and her partially rimed arms hung loosely at her sides with spidery, dark bruises along their lengths to compliment the smattering of bleeding blisters.  Yet her expression was cold and unflinching. The collapsed piece of garbage went completely ignored in favor of looking to her brother, voice deadpan. “A'khato, they're trash.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”  A'khato's voice broke the silence when he finished bandaging her arms. He peered up at her, searching. Kini quickly shook her head. She noticed the yellow, gold and black bracelet that he wore around his wrist. The ribbons had been carefully braided until they were thickly corded with a flat, obsidian gem nestled in the center.  She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and made a show of wiggling her fingers with a wince. “G-good as new!” He rolled his eyes and rose from his seat, gesturing to the bed. “Rest here. When you leave tomorrow, don't be stupid and bother with your bag. You can get it another time.” A'khato sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and stretched languidly a moment after. His footsteps carried him to the doorway where he paused and glanced over his shoulder back at his sister. Golden eyes narrowed into slits and a sinuous growl formed into words. “Don't do that ever again.” He left. A muffled clatter of plates announced his location in the kitchen a few minutes later. She ducked her head and found toes wiggling to jingle the bell attached to her thin anklet. He hadn't waited for the answer, but she was grateful for the mercy.  They both knew it was an empty promise to make, but even so- Kini couldn't help but capture a sliver of happiness from it. 

[writeawaytrain]

Can You Take Me Back?

A/N: Hullo, this fic was inspired by @thelexidylan (super cool and amazing, thank you for the idea hun!). This is also my first fic on tumblr, so I hope y’all enjoy! Also if you would like to request a story, click here :D

W/C: 1,898

Warnings: Mention of drugs/brief use, throwing up, a lil’ swearing.

It was a cold December night in New York City, and I trudged through the streets, not really caring where the road was going.

Could be the secondhand high from all that weed from the Bob Dylan concert, but I kept drifting alone through the streets. I didn’t think it stupid at the time, but never imagined that it would actually lead up to something.

I somehow ended up in Central Park, and I came across the Strawberry Fields. There was no one around, besides the sounds of the trees and the stars smiling down. I felt a sense of peace, either from the weed, or something, and walked around for a bit.

I spotted an old woman sitting on a bench. She looked well on in her years with the lines of time etched onto her face. She had a little cart with flowers on it, and an orange Persian-ish looking cat that stood on her shoulders.

Without thinking, I pulled out my wallet and asked her something that she probably thought as crazy (but who am I to judge), “Ma’am. This might sound weird, but I need some flowers tonight.”

She turned to me in and smiled in an odd way, “Well honey, lucky you, I’m selling—“ 

Her cat meowed.

“Oh yes, that’s right.” She turned to me, “This is Tim. Don’t pay him any mind, he’s a real sweetheart.” She then moved her cart and took out a crystal ball, filled with what looked like a dark liquid. “Now, before you buy anything, I need you to tell me what you see.”

She held up the dark orb, and swirled it in her hands. After a few seconds, I peered inside and inner smoke cleared, showing a small galaxy spotted with dewy stars and a single red rose drifting through it all.

When I told her what I saw, the lady’s cat looked at me with a Cheshire smile and hopped from her shoulder to head bunt my legs. The lady laughed and added, “Ahh. A very special someone indeed, Tim?”

Whether it was referring to me or something about the orb, I didn’t know. Regardless, she rummaged through her cart and brought out a bunch of small blue flowers.

“These are Forget-Me-Nots,” she said handing them over. “I think this is what you’re looking for, dear.”

Suddenly, a large rustle came from the tree behind me and I looked and saw it was a small barn owl. It hooted for a few seconds, and flew off into the night.

“Sorry,” I said turning back, “There was—”

I looked at the spot where the woman was, but she disappeared. Her cart was also gone, and the cat was nowhere to be seen. I was still awkwardly holding my wallet, and started on my walk when I saw a small glimmer of light where she was. On the bench was a small seashell with the letter J carved into it. I picked it up, and traced the letter, which was shining bright green. 

I sat on the bench, shell in hand and flowers in the other, and stared at the night sky. Was the woman real? Was anything real? The stars still swirled around, but I heard no answer. Returning back to the flowers tied in a red ribbon, I came up with an idea.

I looked around to make sure that no one was watching me, and sat cross-legged on the Imagine mosaic.

“Hey John,” I whispered, softly placing the flowers in the center, “It’s me again.” I looked up towards the sky, “Y’know, I just met someone real special today. Guess who?”

An owl hooted in the distance. Classic.

“I don’t know her name, but it was a lady who had a flower cart and a cat,” I sniffed, then laughed. “And she had a glass orb, y’know, like from a wizard shop.”

I wiped my nose and pulled out the seashell. “She disappeared before I could pay her, but she seemed really sweet. This seashell was all that’s left. Maybe you know her?”

The wind whispered, wiping my tears and ruffled my hair. 

“I’m guessing you do, huh?” I sniffed again. I was quiet for a little while and heard the rustling of the trees. I tried looking at the moon, but my eyes welled again.

“I know I should stop crying, but… I…“ I took a deep breath.

The stars twinkled in response.

I closed my eyes and sang: “Can you take me back where I came from, can you take me back? Can you take me back where I came from, brother can you take me back? Can you take me back? Can you take back where I came from? Can you take me back?” 

That sacred and haunting melody traveled through my whole being, and I could feel a chill running through my spine. I felt a warm feeling in my hands and opened my eyes to stare at the seashell in my hand.

The shell’s green J was glowing brightly, and I caressed it with my thumb. However, it only seemed to get brighter and hotter, to the point where I dropped it since it scorched my hands.

“Frickin’ OW!” I started at my hands and they were red, as if they were sunburnt. As far as I knew, weed couldn’t do that.

I started back at the shell and it dropped onto the center of the Imagine mosaic. 

It then rose mid-air and still shining, I heard a lady’s voice, “Would you really like to go back?”

“Uh, sure?” I stammered, both out of shock and wondering if I’d truly gone mad now.

“Very well then.” It eerily sounded like the woman in the flower cart.

Suddenly, green sparkles from the shell gathered in a swirl and surrounded me, spinning faster and faster. I felt sick and my mind spun.

“Wait-!” I was caught off inhaling sparkles, which effectively silenced my voice.

As the air became more thick, I was clawing at my neck, waiting for the torture to be over. After a few more seconds, I fell on the floor, blacking out on the mosaic.

—

When I awoke, I felt sick, and hurled onto a toilet. Wait.

I held myself up for a shaky second, and saw that my baggy sweatshirt was gone, and instead was wearing a blue sleeveless dress and a string of pearls. I even had heels.

“Oh, god,” I whispered and panicked, “Oh, god—!”

I heard a knock on the door and heard a girl’s voice, “Hey, you alright? Want me to call a taxi?”

Odd, she has accent. 

I saw the green dust that I vomited into the toilet. Without thinking I said, “No, I’m alright.”

“Gear. Be careful and get a coke next time, okay?” She tossed a coat and purse over the stall door. 

Even curiouser, 1960s slang.

She went on, “I’ll be at the bar if you need me, the boys are about to start.” Then her heels clicked away.

“Okay,” I stared at the coat. It looked like something my gran wore.

Head still spinning, I flushed the toilet and looked around the stall. There was writing and graffiti in a language that I didn’t even knew. Giving up trying to read it, I slipped on my coat and headed towards the sink. I checked myself in the mirror, and saw that my hair and makeup were really done differently too. Heavy makeup around the eyes and flat-ironed hair with straight bangs, with a beret to top it all off. 

“Is this really me?” I stared through the looking glass, “Am I dreaming?”

I pinched hard myself, and bit back a swear since my hands were still raw, “Nope, definitely real.”

I opened the door, and immediately felt the atmosphere of rock, beer, and sweat. I was facing the side of the stage, and saw the large crowd of people cheering the people onstage at the end of the song. I couldn’t see the performer’s faces in the dingy lighting, so I decided to go to the bar instead.

I found a seat, and feeling wasted, ordered a drink, “Coke, please.”

“Die Cola?” said the bartender.

I nodded, that sounded like coke. Fully realizing that the bartender spoke very little English, I wondered how I ever got drunk, if throwing up magical sparkles didn’t count. He slid me a glass, I reached into my purse to pay. 

...Except my wallet wasn’t there.

I sat there turning red, and I heard another voice, “Ah, I forgot to give you this back,” It was the same girl from the bathroom. “I’d thought I keep it for safe keeping while you were away.”

She was very pretty, she had bright brown eyes and was blonde. Somehow, looked like someone I knew.

She’d also gave me a four pills and turned back to the stage, “They’re gonna take all night, aren’t they?”

I nodded, but returned to the pills, small and unassuming, and pocketed two. With the leftovers, I just turned them around my hands, and hadn’t had a vague inkling of what they were.

I saw that one of the musicians came down from the mic and gave the blonde a kiss, “Oi,” Another kiss. “What’dya think?”

Rascal was sketched in sweat, and you could smell his trouble from a mile away. His face was masked from the shadows though, but his voice…

They broke for air, and he petted her hair whilst getting a cigarette, “Got any more prellies, love?”

She shook her head and looked away, “Didn’t you have enough already? You’ll be bouncing mad like last time,”

He took his time lighting the cig with a small dot of flame. He lifted her chin gently.

“But love, I feel like a drag,” He breathed in the smoke and accented the last word, puppy eyes and all, “Just a few more, alright?”

“Can’t. Gave my last.“ She turned to me, but also gave me a pleading look that said: “Please, don’t give him any.”

Without a beat he looked at my pills, “You gonna take those or what?” He puffed a ring in my face and I coughed. What an ass. 

I stared at the pills, and without much thought, downed the two with a sip of cola. Out of spite, probably. God knows how I’ve survived purely out of spite. 

I slammed my coke with a hard stare, “Does that answer your question, jerk?”

He looked dumbfounded, but recovered without missing a beat, “No need to have a stick up your arse,” His face was red, evidently not getting his way, and decided to saunter somewhere else. 

The girl’s eyes went as large as dinner plates, “Never thought that anyone would stand up to John. Much less any girl, ‘specially here,”

“Well, someone needed to shut him up,” You rolled your eyes. “He was puffing a train down my throat,” And asking for a fight, didn’t he?

She laughed. “Well, he can be nice sometimes, even though his aunt hates me,” She took a sip of her drink, “Ever since he was a ted, he’s been well known in Liverpool, yeah.”

Someone called out across the bar, “Hey Lennon! Need an upper?”

I spat out my drink, “Wait, you mean—?”

Oh, shit. I just pissed off John Lennon.

[slbp-secret-cupid]

Notes: I'm a fan of a band called Wagakki Band, which uses modern and traditional instruments and mostly play j-rock. That's what partly inspired me to write this since I love how they sound.

Also, to my Cupid recipient, @michverse, I hope that you like it ^^ Happy SLBP Valentine’s Day - @otome0heart

PEEBLES IN THE WAY

“Did you have fun, Miss?”

The young woman turned around to see her personal maid, Matsuko, close the sliding door of her room with a big smile on her face and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and she felt a light blush cover her cheeks.

“Yes, I did” she replied while she gave her her coat and bag.

It had been much more than just 'fun'. The concert had been amazing, the music and the singing reaching to every single heart in the hall, which answered with as much passion as the musicians gave.

“And I suppose your fiancé's performance was great...”

She side-glanced at Matsuko, feeling her face even hotter, and the young maid could not help a chuckle.

“Of course, it was” she muttered, starting to unbutton her clothes.

“You don't have to feel embarrassed for having such a gorgeous and talented fiancé, Miss. I'd be really proud to show him off.”

She took off the dress and put it on top of the chest of drawers on her left. Then, she put her arms through the sleeves of her sleeping yukata, which Matsuko held for her.

“I know, and I am” she tied a sash around her waist. “It's just that... things are complicated...”

She turned to look at the maid with a small wistful smile.

“I know, Miss, I know...”

She sighed. Yes, the situation could not be more difficult. Not only was he a famous wadaiko player but also, her family was not making things easy for them. She breathed deeply and then, went to the other side of the room, opening the sliding door which led outside.

“Is everyone sleeping?”

“Yes. Your aunt turned off her lights as soon as she heard you arrive home.”

“Good” he smile widened, showing her satisfaction. “I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Take out the bedding and then, retire for the night. Thanks for waiting for me.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss” the woman bowed her head. “Goodnight.”

She made her way across the garden with only the moonlight as her guide. She had taken that stone path which guided to the far end of the enclosure so many times that she did not need any lights to illuminate her way. There, she stopped in front of a small old storage room which nobody used now for its distance from the main house and its decayed state. She unlocked it with a key she always wore around her neck and entered, holding the door in a way to avoid the hinges making any noise. Once in the safety of the one-room house, she sighed, relieved. In the darkness, she touched the wooden wall, where she knew there would be a candle and a box of matches, and lit it. The tiny flame lit a clean space that she had tidied with the help of her brother Yahiko and Matsuko, slowly and taking turns to avoid suspicions, except for when most of the family was away, when the three of them could work there for some hours. There, she kept the things that made her happy which had been forbidden by her relatives because they did not suit someone of her status.

Status. She snorted as she entered the room, the tatami creacking softly under her bare feet. That was all that mattered to them. Yahiko's status as the heir of the restaurant chain their parents had founded. He own status as the heiress to be married to make connections.

Little by little, they had stripped her of hobbies, friends and feelings to mold her into the perfect wife for a rich man. And she had complied. Or at least, she had made them believe it. She still kept in touch with some of her dearest friends and she had gathered whatever precious memories she had been able to save in that little room.

She walked to the center of the room, illuminating one of her favourite dolls, trophies she had won in sports competitions during school and a few romance novels and manga that still made her heart flutter each time she reread them.

She left the candle on top of a low cupboard and rummaged in the folds of her sleeping robe, taking out the ticket of the concert. A soft smile drew across her lips. What her relatives had never suspected was that they had given her the person that her heart had wanted the most for so long. When they had told her that they had already decided on a husband for her, she had tried to rebel. Even Yahiko, her brother, had. However, when she had discovered the identity of her fiancé, she had had no more reasons to protest.

She put the ticket on top of the cupboard, next to a photo frame, smoothing it carefully and then, straightened, staring at the poster in front of her. Almost unconsciously, she lifted a hand and, delicately, traced the features of the man in it. She had become a fan of his group when they had started their music career, years ago, and little by little, she had fallen more and more for him without realising that what she felt was not only admiration but love, until they had been introduced to each other. In that moment, her heart had flooded with a million feelings, filling each single corner of her being, and deep inside her, she had simply known that she had given him her heart.

With a low purr rumbling in his throat, Takeda Shingen turned in his bed, seeking a few minutes more of sleep under the warmth of the covers. He put his arm around the pillow, burying his face in it, slightly frustrated because his much needed rest had been disturbed and the last threads of unconsciousness which fogged his mind were disappearing. Slowly, he opened his amber eyes, wondering what had made him wake up. The thick dark curtains were tightly closed, not letting the sunlight enter the room and he had made sure his mobile phone was muted so nobody could disturb him.

He lifted his head, looking around through heavy lidded eyes and then, something at the back of his mind told him the reason. He looked at the space beside him on the bed and sighed, letting himself fall on the mattress again.

After a concert, he always brought someone home, one of those friends who, as him, looked for a way to relieve themselves without any strings attached, someone who would disappear in the morning with not so much as a 'till next time' and did not ask for something in return.

However, all that had ended when he had got engaged. He sighed. As much as his needs were still the same, he now had a serious committed relationship and he planned to be faithful. He could not help a small snort as he laid on his back, his eyes staring at the white ceiling. He did not know from whom he had inherited such righteous feelings, since his father was not precisely the perfect example of faithfulness. Or maybe it was precisely that which had shaped him in that way. Seeing his mother suffer in silence the none discreet affairs of her husband had probably made him promise himself not to make the woman he chose and loved feel the same humiliation. Well, he had not exactly chosen her but that marriage was the price he had to pay for his freedom, the condition his father had stated to let him continue in the music world while contributing to the family’s prestige, and he was willing to pay it. Beside, his fiancée was a pretty girl and he knew that, if he made an effort to get to know her, he could end up liking her. He sighed. The only thing that irked him quite a lot was her shyness and her seemingly docile character. She talked when told to, and did as told too. She was modest and proper. He pictured her in his mind, her long brown hair tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, her white skin and her pink lips, the perfectly fit kimonos she had always worn when he had visited her and... He furrowed his brows for a moment, trying to remember any other detail about her. And it was then that he realised he did not even know what colour her eyes were.

The screen of his mobile phone turned on, distracting him from his musings and, turning slightly, he picked it up from the top of his bedside table. As every morning, Kansuke, his assistant and best friend, had sent him the planning for the day. Fortunately, he did not have many engagements, an interview for a magazine with the rest of the band in a few hours and in the afternoon, a visit to his fiancée's household to have tea. He half closed his eyes, already dreading it. It was not that he did not want to see her, but they were never alone. Her family had guarded her closely since the first time he had stepped in the house, and they had not allowed even a short walk in their gardens in full view of all of them. However, he did not see anything bad in wanting to take up with her for a few minutes and he hoped that, as the wedding approached, they let him get closer to her. He had the right to do so.

But, as he had expected, once again, the situation was the same.

When he had arrived, he had been guided by a servant to the usual room where they received him. Her fiancée and her relatives were already there, waiting, and as soon as he had entered the room, the ritual had begun. The first time he had gone to that house, he had been surprised at the formality and ceremony he found, and had felt stupid, following every step after his parents and the rest of the people of the room, who seemed to know what to do. Now, his actions were almost mechanic. He had sat formally and bowed deeply in answer to their formal greetings. Then, he had answered courteous questions asked by the elders related to his family's health and, taking his place next to her brother, he had watched as her aunt performed once again the tea ceremony. Fortunately, those only lasted around an hour. It was not that he did not like them; he loved the ritual and how each action was performed with detail, following a specific procedure. However, instead of the quiet and relaxed atmosphere he had experienced in them during his life, there, the feeling was oppressive and he felt watched, judged by every single one of his actions.

Now, as he bowed formally at the end of the ceremony, not feeling thankful in the slightest, he stole a glance to his right. The young woman who was going to be his wife was sitting straighter than he had ever seen someone do it, with her head slightly bowed, as every single time before. He had to suppress a frustrated sigh and he straightened, looking ahead again. One more day that he could not talk to her. At that rate, they would be married without him knowing her favourite colour.

“I hope you forgive my rudeness” her aunt turned to him with a slight bow after all the utensils had been collected. “But I have a previous appointment in a few minutes, so I feel myself in the difficult position of shortening your visit.”

Definitely, she was a damned witch.

“Of course” he bowed his head too, briefly. “Please, rest assured that I'm not an- disgruntled at all” the old woman smiled satisfied. “However, I would like to request something of you before I go.”

It was obvious that nobody expected that, because the silence hung in the room a bit too longer than it had been desirable.

“Yes?” he had to suppress a smirk hearing her slightly displeased tone.

“I'd like to request your permission to take my fiancée out next Sunday.”

The silence was even heavier/thicker this time as he waited for an answer.

“Well, the engagement has already made official so I don't see any inconvenience for her to attend any event that your family organises...”

It was his turn to furrow his brows.

“It's neither a family gathering or a social event” he breathed deeply and lifted his chin proudly. “I would like to get to know her better so I had thought of us having lunch together.”

He side glanced at her, only to see her turn her head quickly, just in time to see her expression, a mixture of surprise and horror. Yahiko was looking at both of them alternatively, his eyes wide.

The elderly woman's hardened features and her tightly pressed mouth followed by a sharp intake of breath told him immediately he had stepped on a landmine.

“I'm going to be frank with you” she started, and her voice was cold like ice. “Even though I'm old and traditional, I am well aware of what young people nowadays consider “get to know better”, as I am of your reputation. I can't believe you're asking such a thing, expecting us to agree. No, I will not allow you to tarnish the immaculate reputation of this household. You will have time to 'get to know her' once the marriage ceremony takes place” she squared her shoulders. “I expect you to reflect upon your behaviour before your next visit. And now,” she bowed curtly and then, lifted herself up. “If you please...”

Shingen tightened his jaw until he felt pain and took a moment to stand up. In any other occasion, he would not have let her humiliate him like that, but the last thing he wanted to hear was his father berating him for offending them and risking the engagement. Dying to get out of that room, of that house, he did not look at anyone. He held his head high, proudly, before leaving the place.

How could things have gone so wrong?

The young woman had listened to the exchange between her fiancé and her aunt terrified. It seemed that she still had the power to destroy her happiness if she wanted to. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen him bear stoically the old woman's harsh words, and though his eyes reflected the hardness of precious stones, she had seen his wounded pride in them too. That was something that her aunt knew how to do really well, being one of her victims herself. She attacked someone's vulnerable points until rendering them speechless and backing them against the wall, and she knew why he was willing to marry her and that he could not risk his chance.

She had sprung to her feet as soon as she had done it, at the same time as everybody except for him. As if challenging the old woman, he had stood up slowly, a second later than the rest, towering them all, his eyes never leaving her aunt's.

She had felt so useless at that moment, thinking that the engagement had ended, that he would walk out of her life that very moment leaving her broken forever without knowing it. And then, she would probably be betrothed to another without a second thought. A sudden wave of nausea at the idea overcame her and in that moment, she knew that she had to do something.

When she had come out of the room, trying to remain calm and at the same time to think fast about what to do, she had seen Matsuko, her expressive eyes worried. Then, it came to her mind what to do. If she could not speak to him or send him a message, as she had been denied his phone number, she could write him a note. She looked at her relatives, gathered around the main entrance, around him who was with his back to them, probably putting on his shoes, and with a quick gesture, she asked the maid for paper and pen. She looked around and then, a dawning expression lighted her face, as she brought her hand to her obi and extracted what seemed a supermarket receipt. She took them quickly, scribbling something just before her aunt's voice, calling her name, sounded in the hall. With a few short steps, she arrived at the line of people waiting. However, just before she could stop herself, she treaded on the step and lost her balance.

His hand was fast, holding her arm and steadying her before she crashed against him. His fingers were strong but strangely gentle in their grasp, and for a moment, she forgot everything around her as she perceived the sensuous, though faint, smell of his perfume and the slight warmth that was starting to seep through the layers of her sleeve. His eyes were even more beautiful than she had imagined, reflecting his surprise at the situation and a faint curiosity. After all, it was the first time they had truly looked at each other.

Her aunt's authoritative voice broke through her daydreaming and she jumped, snatching her arm from his hand and taking her place in the row of relatives, bowing to him when the old woman bid her farewell to him. Through her eyelashes, she saw him take a last reflexive look at her before disappearing through the sliding door.

A low murmur filled the hall when the five people next to her started to move to other parts of the house, and she could feel Yahiko's concerned gaze on her. She walked past him, her fingers brushing his softly, as a way to calm him.

“Clumsy child” her aunt's voice carried a disdaining tone, and she bowed her head in a submissive gesture. “I expect you to behave properly next time.”

She nodded, her eyes not leaving the floor. However, instead of embarrassment, all that filled her heart was the hope of him reading her note.

Shingen closed the door of his car with more force than necessary. How he hated them... If it was not for the advantages that the wedding would bring him, he would never go back.

He reclined his head back, letting it rest briefly against the seat, his lids fluttering close for a moment, trying to calm himself. As soon as they were married, he would take her out of that house and, if possible, they would only return to give their New Year greetings.

With a sigh, he grabbed the seatbelt with one hand while searching for his car keys in the pocket of his jacket with the other. However, there was something else in his pocket. Slightly confused, he took it out. It was the receipt of a convenience store, something he was sure he had never put in there. He turned it around and his sight fell on some hasty strokes written with a pencil.

I'm sorry.

Without realising it, a soft smile drew across his lips, knowing instinctively who the author of that note was. So, the fall had not been an accident, as she had made all of them believe. His smile widened, turning into a smirk. It seemed that the delicate submissive pretty flower he was supposed to marry was not so obedient.

A desperate knock on the window took him out of his thoughts abruptly and he saw a boy look at left and right quickly, a frantic expression marring his features. He lowered the glass.

“Yahiko... right?”

He nodded once.

“I have to show you something” his tone was urgent. “Park at the back of the house and wait for me there.”

Before he could reply, the boy started running and soon disappeared around the corner of the enormous stone wall that surrounded the compound. Shingen blinked a few times, a bit perplexed, but his interest had been picked between the note and the boy's promise so, he started the car, drove for a few minutes to avoid suspicions and then, turned around a street to go back to the house.

As he had promised, by the time he arrived, Yahiko was waiting for him next to a small wooden door. Without a word, he motioned him inside and guided him carefully, without barely making a noise, through a bamboo garden before finding themselves in front of a small deteriorated wooden storage house. Then, the young man turned to him, his face serious and his eyes shining with resolve.

“You see, I'm doing this for my sister's sake...” he straightened his shoulders. “So before I take you inside, I have to know... What do you think about her?”

He was left speechless for a moment and then, even though he tried to stifle it, a hearty laugh left his lips.

“What's so funny?” Yahiko crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

“Nothing, kid but, do you realise that you're asking for an explanation to a guy who is more than twice your age, height and built? Who could lay you flat on the ground in this same moment?”

The boy did not change his attitude, neither seemed intimidated by him, and Shingen felt satisfied with that. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees so he could look at him eye to eye.

“I'm going to be sincere with you. She is my freedom to do what I like the most, if I marry her, I can continue my music career without my father meddling in my business and that's what I desire the most” the light in the boy's dark brown pupils wavered but Shingen knew that he had done right. “She's pretty and, though her docile character was not very appealing to me, it seems that there's more to her than that.”

Yahiko swallowed hard and breathed deeply. It had been hard to hear his reasons, but he also knew that his sister was aware of his feelings even though she had barely talked to him, and that she loved what he did, so he just nodded.

“Thank you” he bowed, and was slightly surprised when he saw Shingen return the gesture. “As I promised you, I'm going to show you something...” he took out a key from his pocket. “It's my sister's dearest treasure.”

The feeling of curiosity sparkled even brighter inside him as the lock slid back smoothly, a sign that, despite the run-down state of the whole building, it was used frequently. Yahiko opened the door carefully, stopping when the hinges squeaked.

“I think that's enough space for you to slip past...” he said, taking a look at his broad shoulders and muscled body.

His jacket brushed the frame with a whishing sound and he was almost sure that the fabric had been damaged in some way. Then, he found himself in a dark room, the scarce sunlight that entered through the crack only showing him a step and part of a light brown tatami mat just before the door closed quickly behind him. He heard some rustling of clothes beside him and a switch turned on, the beam of a flashlight crossing the room.

“My big sister always uses a candle because she usually comes at night and she wants to avoid anyone knowing that this place is being used. But now it's daylight and there's a lot of commotion in the house so I don't think the flashlight will be seen. And we have to be quick, so it's more convenient.”

The boy, who had been taking off his shoes while speaking, stepped in the room with a dull sound, turning to him with a small smile, the light dancing around the place with each of his movements. He followed him, looking around. By what he could grasp, it seemed that the place served its purpose of storing things but curiously, everything was tidy and clean. Also, there were pictures on the walls and objects carefully set on top of the shelves, as if they were there to be admired and cherished. His fingers brushed the flower patterned skirt of a western doll which was smiling widely at him and his eyes fell on the titles printed on the spines of a few books.

“Before our parents died in the plane crash” Yahiko's voice was subdued, and he approached him, his eyes still darting around, trying to absorb as much information as possible. “My sister was a normal teenager who read cheesy romance novels and went to the cinema with her friends. Even though our family was prestigious, mum and dad wanted us to grow up as ordinary children and enjoy life while we could. I remember that she was cheerful and kind and that I loved her bright smile.”

He smiled bitterly.

“However, when our relatives took us in, that ended. I was still a little boy so they mostly left me alone. However, she was already fifteen years old and they decided that she was old enough to start being trained as a wife and disposed of all her things” his gaze had wandered around, but then, it returned to the man in front of him. “What you see here is what we could save: a doll, a few books, her medals and trophies from the track and field competitions she participated in, photos...” he paused for a moment. “She was forced to leave all that behind. They tried to tame her and make her the perfect wife for a renown family and, after seeing that rebelling didn't bring her any good, she complied.”

There were some photos on the wall, and Shingen walked to them to see them better in the semi-darkness. The beam of light followed him and, lit them over his shoulder. There, different pictures of teenagers smiled back at him, and in all of them, an all too familiar girl he could barely relate to the demure lady he was engaged to stood out on her own.

“However, she's strong like my mother and she has managed to keep at least part of her spirit. Sometimes, she escapes from here with the help of her best friend, the only one our relatives approved from her past, and meet old acquaintances or do things that she's not allowed anymore.”

While listening to the story, Shingen had kept on wandering the room, finding small objects that were surely attached to a memory. Fleetingly, he thought that, once they were married, maybe he could get her to tell him about them. Lifting the lid of a box, he saw a small pile of Cds and, curious, he took one to see what type of tastes his fiancé had in music. His eyes widened in astonishment.

“I bet you didn't imagine she was a fan of your band...”

He lifted his head to look at the young boy. He was with his back to him, pointing the flashlight to a poster in front of him, one Shingen knew too well. It had been the promotional image of their first national tour. He walked to him, staring at the picture too. It was a bit flashier than he remembered, and he could not help a small smile seeing that he still had his hair short at that time. However, there was another one next to that and he pushed the light with his fingertips to take a better look at it. It was a recent one and he was alone in there. It had been taken at one of the concerts and on it, he was with his back to the watcher, his profile outlined by the spotlights and his hair braided in small plaits on the sides of his head and then tied up in a high ponytail as he played one of the enormous waidaiko around him.

“She had admired you for a long time, and she barely could believe it when they told her that you were her betrothed” Yahiko's voice had turned slightly amused. “I'd never seen her more bewildered than at that moment. However, she had to make an effort to recover so our aunt wouldn't suspect something. But her hands were trembling under the sleeves of her kimono.”

He turned to the man.

“Now you know a bit more about her” a smile made its way across his lips. “It's what you wanted, right?” Shingen could only nod absently, still looking at the posters in front of him, trying to reconcile all the information in his mind. “Now, let's go. Somebody could come looking for me at any moment and it would be bad if they caught us. Especially for her.”

He nodded once again, more firmly this time, and it was then that something caught his attention.

Yahiko took some steps towards the entrance and turned to see if he was following him. However, he was still in the same place, looking at something in his hand. He pointed the light to him.

“Your sister... was at last night concert...”

Yahiko chuckled. “Of course! I told you she escapes the house sometimes, didn't I?

After coming out of the building and making their way carefully to the wooden door in the fence, Yahiko rummaged in the the folds of his kimono.

“Before I forget, here's her phone number and mail”

“I already have those...” Shingen paused for a moment and glanced at the boy, feeling a bit troubled. “Though to tell you the truth, I've never used them.”

Yahiko moved his head.

“Those are my aunt's, she had to make sure you had as little contact with her as possible. However, she doesn't know she has a private one that only the close friends who they think she has cut ties with have. Maybe she'll take some time to answer, since she can't check it often but you can talk to her without them knowing about it.”

He took the paper and looked at it reflexively.

“Why are you doing all this? Am I not supposed to be the bad guy who's marrying her for his own benefit?”

The boy looked at him seriously, putting a hand on his waist.

“My big sister is my only true family and I want her to be happy. And I know her only way to that is getting out of this house. To tell you the truth, I hated you so much when you came for the first time. But I've watching you this whole time and you seemed interested in her as a person. And that became clear today. Beside, you didn't freak out when you saw all this and realised that she's admired you for a long time. Any other would've thought she was a creep. That made me trust you.”

For a moment, the memory of her panicked eyes, of a beautiful shade of brown, and the rushed apology on the supermarket ticket, appeared in his mind and he could not help a soft smile. Then, he lifted his hand and tousled Yahiko's hair softly. The teenager's eyes stared directly at his, a sudden wave of uncertainty shining briefly in them.

“You'll free her, right?”

Shingen smiled widely, feeling strangely proud of that boy he barely knew but who already felt like a little brother to him.

“Leave it to me, kid.”

It was late at night when the young woman got up from bed and crossed her room. Silently, she pulled at the lowest drawer of the chest where she kept her clothes, taking it out completely, and she introduced her arm in the space. She closed her fingers around the thin device hidden there, a smartphone Umeko, her best friend, had bought for her. She extracted it from the fabric bag she had made to protect it and she switched it on.

Umeko had sent her some photos of the concert and she smiled upon seeing them, a few butterflies coming to life in her stomach when she saw one of Shingen that Umeko had edited with some hearts and sparkles, and the text “Your Husband” at the bottom.

Silly, she typed on the screen, feeling the blush that dusted her cheeks even hotter.

Also, she had notifications from communities about the band, where the fans were going overboard about their performance, and other less innocent things.

The phone vibrated when she was about to turn it off and she opened a new mail that she had received, even though she did not recognise the address at that moment. She became stunned upon reading the greeting, her heart thundering in her chest painfully, so loud that she feared for a moment somebody else could hear it.

She breathed deeply through her mouth as her fingertips brushed the screen, her pupils absorbing his words as if they were trying to engrave them in her mind.

He had read her note and she did not have to apologise for anything.

Something broke inside her and she felt weak with relief, her limbs suddenly heavy.

But he insisted on having that date he had asked for...

She bit her trembling lower lip, letting her hands fall on her lap as they held the device tightly, and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her calmness.

A part of her was dying to say yes. Until that afternoon, she had been convinced that he had no interest in her and that he thought their engagement was a bother. That he had a lover... But the tone of his voice and the solemnity of his expression had told her of his serious commitment. And that he wanted to know more about her said that he wished to look at her as a person and not just as his freedom to live his life as he pleased.

However, a small voice at the back of her mind told her that she would embarrass herself in front of him. Up to that moment, she had been partly relieved that she had barely had to talk during his visits, as she was sure she would get flustered and stutter so much that she would be scolded in front of him.

Her fingertips hovered over the keyboard. She breathed deeply and pressed her lips in a thin line. However, she could not go on like that forever. There would be a time where she would have to break that barrier. She could not become his wife without being able to look at him directly or talk to him. And she had the feeling that if she refused, things would become awkward between them and starting a life in common under such circumstances would only damage their relationship. She needed to be brave, however nerve wracking the experience would be.

In that moment, a creak was heard in the corridor and she jumped. Quickly, she put the smartphone in her sleeve, put the drawer in its place and ran trying not to make any noise. She covered herself just in time for the door to slide a bit. She buried her face in the pillow to calm her breathing. She had discovered a few months before that her relatives sometimes watched her at night, especially when they had any suspicion about her actions. And that day events had shaken them deeply. She felt the urge to snort. As if a fiancé asking for a date with his betrothed would be something so scandalous.

After she felt calmer, she sighed and turned to the other side. She had mastered the art of feigning sleep to its finest after so many times staying up surfing the internet or chatting with her old friends until the early hours.

The minutes ticked away in the antique clock of her room until she finally heard the sliding door close again and light steps walk off until they faded in the corridor. She breathed relieved and, after listening attentively for some more time, she rummaged in her sleeve to extract the phone.

Her eyes read his messages again and then, swallowing hard, she started to type.

They had agreed to meet the following Saturday instead of the Sunday he had requested at first, to avoid suspicions, and upon telling her their plans, her best friend Umeko had readily offered her help. And that day, as he had told her, he was waiting for her at the entrance of a park situated in one of the wards in Kyoto further from her house, where her relatives would not probably find them.

For a moment, she contemplated him as he checked his mobile phone. He was leaning against one of the pillars that formed the gate, obviously dressed as not to attract too much attention though she could see that even wearing dark blue jeans, boots, a dark grey sweatshirt with an orange motive on the chest under the black gilet and a woolen hat which covered his blazing-red hair, some people turned their heads to him, admiration clearly showing in their eyes.

“He's even more gorgeous when up close” Umeko's voice contained a mixture of amusement and admiration, and then, she felt a soft push on the shoulder. “Come on, go and show them that he's taken.”

She turned to her friend, a grateful smile dancing in her lips.

“Thank you very much, Umeko...”

The girl nodded and then winked at her.

“Enjoy your date, and send me a text when you want me to pick you up.”

She made an affirmative sound and then, opened the door of the car.

Umeko observed her as she made her way to her future husband, and how he lifted his face when he sensed her near and smiled. Maybe it was not the smile of someone in love but at least, it was the gesture of a sincerely contented man who appreciated what he was seeing. She smiled satisfied as she used her turn signal and, giving them a last glance, joined the traffic to leave them in their own world.

“I'm glad to see you again” he replied to her formal bow and greeting. “And with not so many witnesses around us.”

She nodded briefly and swallowed hard, not really trusting her voice. Her heartbeat was almost deafening and she was sure that if there was not so much traffic and people walking and chatting around them, he could have heard it clearly.

“Did you have any problems to come today? Did your family said something, or were suspicious?”

“N-No...”

She frowned and berated herself when the first stutter left her lips. It was as if his mere presence rendered her unable to think or move coherently. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to even her breath. He was someone she had never dreamt of being near of, a man who had meant the world to her since she was a teenager. However, he was also a human being, like her, and the person she would share her life with. She had to gather her thoughts and courage, and start treating him, not just as her idol, but as her future husband.

“Are you feeling okay?”

His concerned voice brought her back to reality and she realised that her fear of embarrassing herself in front of him was becoming a reality.

“I'm sorry...”

Shingen looked at her slightly confused, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her face.

“I'm making a fool of myself...” she lifted her hand and with the back, she touched the burning skin of her cheeks. “I'm really nervous today...”

A tender smile drew across his lips, realising that what for him was something pleasant and quite common like a tryst, for her, it probably was a nerve wracking situation between breaking even more rules imposed to her than just merely escaping to see a concert and being with someone she admired deeply. He recalled her brother's words about his band and himself in the warehouse, and understood that he could not behave as always with his past lovers or friends with benefits. He would have to break her walls one by one, forcefully and at the same time, gently.

“You don't have to apologise” she side-glanced at him. “Just forget about all that, at least for a few minutes” she furrowed her brows in a delicate frown, wondering what he had meant by 'all that' but he continued. “I just want you to enjoy today and, as I told your aunt, to get to know you a bit better” he let out a little sigh. “We're going to get married and I don't even know what your favourite colour is.”

'Even though you probably know everything about me...' the afterthought that flashed in his mind after his own words

She watched him for a few seconds and then, a small, wistful smile appeared on her face.

“You're right” she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly. “I should probably relax a bit and appreciate what Umeko and you are doing for me. It's just...” she paused, giving some thinking to her next words. “I think I'm not used to unwind anymore...”

He observed her for a moment, having a slight suspicion about that pause she had made, but did not say anything about it. Up to that moment, she had not mentioned a thing about him being a famous musician and, even though it intrigued him, especially since he knew how she felt about him, he decided it was not the time to bring up the topic, seeing her finally at ease in his company.

“Okay” he said putting one of his hands on his hip. “Did you think of anywhere you'd like to go?”

“Not really...” her cheeks became a bit warm when he smiled, but she swallowed, reflexively clenching her fingers into fists to suppress the anxious feeling that was, once again, arising in her chest, focusing her thoughts on her words. “You told me that you wanted to take me somewhere special so I didn't really give it too much thought. I'm really fine with any type of food.”

His smile widened.

“I wasn't talking about any restaurants, but about another place I think you'll appreciate much more.”

For a moment, a flash of mischief played in his amber pupils and her aunt's words when she had refused his request of a date with her sounded in her mind. However, she shook her head lightly, refusing to think that had been his purpose since the beginning. She had decided to trust him when she had accepted to go out with him, and that was what she was going to do.

“There's a taxi stop at a short walk from here” he extended his hand to her. “Let's go?”

She stared at it for a moment and then, she pressed her mouth in a thin line, her fingers closing tightly around the handle of her small bag. A single word left her lips and Shingen stared at her curiously.

“That's my favourite colour.”

His smile was wide and sincere, and she found herself answering it with one of her own while she extended her arm put her fingers in his palm. His slightly calloused skin was warm and she felt a pleasant tingle when he took hold of hers, tugging so she would follow him.

They walked at a leisure step, Shingen asking her simple questions about her hobbies and tastes and answering some of hers. From time to time, she glanced around, especially when she felt someone staring at them. She chuckled silently and that drew his attention.

“What's so funny?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing really... I was just thinking that no matter how you disguise yourself, you attract people's attention.”

He grinned at the amused edge of her words and how she had lowered her guard against her own thoughts.

“I know it's not the best one but at least, it conceals my special traits” he brushed the red bangs which sticked out of his woolen hat. “It'll be too much of a bother if they recognised me right away, when all I want is to enjoy this day with you” he watched satisfied as her expression became somewhat disconcerted. “And,” he added. “how do you know that they're not looking at you” he gave her a side smile. “That kimono really suits you.”

A wave of shyness washed over her. It was true that, after thinking and considering clothes for far longer that she had ever done, she had finally opted for her favourite kimono, a tsukesage in shades of purple with a seasonal motive in the hem, the upper part of the back and the sleeves, and as Umeko used to say, it was obvious in every one of her gestures and expressions that she loved to wear it.

However, she had never faced such an open flirting, not even in the only relationship she had had in all her life. Her boyfriend in high school had been easy-going and fun, but he had always felt a bit awkward when they had been in a situation that could lead to a romantic outcome. He had never behaved in any remotely similar way to how Shingen was doing. And she did not know well how to react.

Before she could think of a right way to answer his comment, he stopped, pointing to the row of taxis next to them.

“Come on, let's be quick or we'll be late.”

Instead of a place where they could have more privacy, the taxi stopped at the entrance of a large venue. As she got out of the vehicle, looking at the building with open curiosity, Shingen started rummaging in the bag he carried. He, then extracted two passes.

“Keep this with you all the time” he said giving her one with the logo of his band. “Though... I don't know if the clip will damage your kimono...”

“Don't worry” she replied, taking it from him and observing the little clamp for a moment before securing it in one of the inner wraps of her obi. “The fabric is not very delicate and in case it leaves a mark, nobody will see it there.”

He opened his gilet and hanged it from the belt of his jeans.

“Now we're ready” he took her hand again, pulling her towards the entrance.

“But, where are we going?” she tried to remember if the band had any event that morning, in whose case, he could not have been there with her.

His only response was an enigmatic smile over his shoulder.

They entered the building through a glass automatic sliding door, being greeted by a security guard and some of the venue workers and finally, he stopped just in front of a double door with a small window at the top. He turned and his grin was even wider than before. She inhaled deeply, trying to regain her breath after trying to match his long strides across the hall.

“I talked to our manager so you could watch our rehearsal for tomorrow night's concert” her eyes opened, pure bewilderment flashing in them, regarding him, and her lower lip hung slightly open, feeling unable to react. “After all,” he lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “You're my most precious fan.”

His words sounded deeply inside her and her chin trembled a bit. It was impossible that he knew her secret, she had been extremely careful not to let a single word about him or his band, or her deep admiration for him out, and it was impossible that with such a short time together he could have figured it out.

“Ho... do you know that...?”

“A little bird who loves you dearly showed me a very special room where my lovely fiancee keeps her treasures...”

She was mortified. He had learnt all her deepest secrets without her realising and now she was sure he would definitely feel uncomfortable with her. However, at that moment, her racing mind registered two facts. He had already known by the time they had met, and also, he had just called her 'lovely'...

“Don't look so troubled” he bent over her a bit to take a better look at her face. “He did it because he adores you so don't be too hard on him when you return home.”

She blinked slowly.

“Yahiko...?”

He nodded and was about to add something else when a stingy voice interrupted them.

“Could you cut out the flirting so we can start the rehearsal?” both of them turned , finding a blond man watching them with a disgusted expression.

Shingen gave him a side- looped smile and then, glanced at her, who was still recovering her composure.

“I bet you didn't expect our little angel to have such a sharp tongue. He's always so polite and smiles complacently to the public, but it's better not to be on the wrong side in one of his bad days.”

“So?” he crossed his arms on his chest and glanced at her for a moment with apparent disinterest. “Who's the wrench?” there were murmurs approaching, and behind Ieyasu, a few figures appeared after turning a corner, chatting among them. “It seems that you forgot that outsiders are forbidden after the mayhem with Hideyoshi and his messy double-dating game.”

That comment gained the irated glare of one of the other men who had just stopped by them.

“Don't you dare talk about Hideyoshi like that!”

They both got into an argument immediately and the others groaned, except for a light-built man with short light brown hair, who just smiled.

“And before you ask,” Shingen murmured in a clearly amused tone. “Yes, they're always like that.”

She stared worriedly at them for a few more seconds and then tilted her head upwards.

“Is it really okay for me to be here?”

But before he could answer, a blond man with an almost ethereal presence, turned to them and peered at her with slightly closed eyelids and a pleasant smile.

“And who is this charming lady, little tiger? An acquaintance?”

“She's my fiancée” his expression softened as he glanced at her, watching her cheeks dusted with a soft colour and her fingers grasp the handle of her bag even tighter, as she introduced herself to them.

Silence hung for a long moment in the hall and then, all of them started to talk at the same time, alternating incredulous remarks, the loudest ones from a man with dark hair and a pink T-shirt, with some congratulations and skeptical looks. All those ended when another man entered the scene and put some order. After a new introduction, the man ushered them all inside, indicating the musicians to take their places on the stage and her, a seat in the third row.

Shingen took out his gilet and sweatshirt, under which he wore a dark orange sleeveless T-shirt, leaving all that on the seat next to her. Before straightening and going with his mates, a slow smile drew across his lips and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, a small spark of untamed passion flickering in them.

“I hope you have the time of your life.”

It was difficult to recognise the meek girl he had met a few weeks ago in the exultant young woman who walked beside him at the moment. Shingen watched her almost fascinated. It was as if every cell of her body was alive and everything, her steps, her posture, her long hair swaying in the gentle breeze, radiated light.

“So,” he said, lifting his brows slightly and pursing his lips momentarily. “I assume that you liked my surprise.”

She turned to him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“It was one of the most beautiful things someone has ever done for me” she stopped, facing him and bowing. “Thank you very much, I'll never forget it.”

“Come on,” he said putting a hand in his hip. “Don't be so formal now.”

“But it was something amazing, like a dream coming true. I've heard a whole performance, I've talked with you all and you even invited them to our wedding...” she covered part of her face, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I won't be able to return such an unbelievable gift, even if I had three lives...”

Shingen laughed, watching each and every one of the small changes in her expression. Something inside him wondered how many more layers and expressions she had, and if he would be able to uncover them all.

“You don't have to give anything. I knew it would mean so much to you and it was something really easy to achieve.”

But she was not listening to him.

“Hey...” he insisted.

“I know!” her little outburst startled him. “I'll cook for you.”

He lifted an elegant brow, looking doubtfully at her.

“Do you know how to cook?”

She frowned, her eyes flashing with an offended gleam.

“”What do you take me for?” she crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin defiantly. “My father was convinced that you can't manage a food emporium without knowing it in depth. He was a great cook and he taught me well” her eyes misted a bit. “He had started to let Yahiko into the kitchen when... he passed away.”

It still hurt. Even though years had passed, she still missed them dearly and in each step of her life, she wondered what they would do in her place, and if they would have been proud of her. Now that her wedding approached, she wished they would be there to see her become a bride.

Shingen watched the change in her with concern, though he could understand it. His parents were still alive but he had missed the warmth of a true family and she had had it but lost it under tragic circumstances. However, it was easier to live without it not having experienced it than having done it and then being deprived of it.

He touched her back softly, attracting her attention back to him, and offered her a small smile.

“Alright, if you're so convinced, I'd love to try your food.”

She breathed deeply and then returned his smile, nodding.

“Though I have to warn you that my fridge is almost empty. I barely eat at home and when I return at night, I either grab something to eat at the convenience store or buy some take-out.”

She frowned.

“That's not healthy at all” he shrugged lightly and she sighed, a small sound vibrating in her throat. “Okay, I'll make you something really nutritive to give you strength for tomorrow's concert, so first, we have to stop by a supermarket.”

Once they arrived at his flat, he took out his keys from his jeans pocket.

“Welcome to your future home, milady” he said half jokingly opening the door for her to see a spacious hall.

She doubted for a moment, suddenly becoming fully conscious of the place where she was about to enter, and a sense of trepidation overwhelmed her. Shingen gazed at her, expectant at first and uneasy later, as if he was suddenly aware of her feelings. His smile faltered.

“If you're having second thoughts about this, we can still go to eat somewhere. There are some good restaurants in this area that can take us without a reservation” he made a motion to take the shopping bag she was carrying. “Give that to me. I'll put everything in the fridge and Kansuke can sort it out later.”

She shook her head, lifting her eyes to him. Her pupils still showed a hint of insecurity but her expression was serene.

“I'm fine.”

And then, she stepped into the house.

She took off her sandals, putting them correctly out of habit, and then, glanced at him, waiting for him to show her the way. The flat was a luxurious one room duplex with a spacious living room with enormous windows from where they could overwatch great part of the city. On their left, there was a completely equipped open plan kitchen with breakfast bar and beyond, a staircase led to the bedroom. Under the second floor, a half opened Japanese sliding door let her get a glimpse of a large bathroom with an ample vintage bath in the centre.

Shingen watched satisfied as she looked around filled with curiosity, her previous apprehension seemingly vanished.

“This way” he guided her to the kitchen and, after leaving their bags on the breakfast bar, both of them searched through all the cupboards and drawers to find the kitchenware she would need.

“Is there anything you can't eat?” she asked once everything had been placed in an orderly way.

He shook his head and then, leant his weight on the counter beside her.

“Are you sure you don't need any help?”

“Do you know how to cook?” she answered with a question of her own, and then pursed her lips seeing him deny it again. “Then, it's better if I do it alone” she gathered her sleeves. “Do you have anything that could be useful to tie them?”

“Maybe.”

Shingen returned with a male obi tha he had folded in three.

“But I didn't-” she was interrupted when he started to fasten them expertly.

“I don't keep ribbons or anything like that here, so this must do” he saw her open her mouth to reply but was faster. “And if it worries you so much, it's an old one, and made of synthetic fabric, so it's easy to take care of it.”

She sighed, resigned.

“And now, since I only would be in the way, I'll disappear from here and make myself decent.”

And turning around, he took the set of clothes he had left on the breakfast bar and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving her dumbfounded and with the thought of having her fiancé taking a bath just a few metres away from her.

“This is delicious” Shingen picked up a few more vegetables with his chopsticks and ate them almost greedily, enjoying every single bit.

“I'm glad” she could not help the proud smile as she watched him, picking up a piece of meat from her own plate. He had come out of the bathroom just in time for the food to be served. They were sitting at the dining table he had near the enormous windows that faced the city, the sky a light shade of blue with only a few clouds floating in the distance.

He had changed into another pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt and his red hair, long and luxuriant, fell down his back except for a lock which fell across his shoulder and chest.

He seemed to notice how her eyes returned to it once and again and he smiled, letting his chopsticks on the rest and propping an elbow on the table, his cheek leaning on his hand, some of his tresses following the movement and hanging like a curtain behind his shoulder, the light spreading its reflection on it.

“Anything interesting you care to share with me?”

His smile was flirtatious again, like that morning and a small voice inside her warned her against him. The situation was completely different and now they were alone in his own territory. And he was like a tiger, as Kenshin had called him, elegant, fascinating, tempting and dangerous.

She turned her attention to her own food and took her time to answer, searching for a convincing reason.

“I feel envious” she finally said, setting for the most inofensive reply she had been able to come up in such a short time. “You have really beautiful hair while mine” she took one of her locks, “ is just... normal.”

Before she could drop it, he got a hold of it and slided it down between his fingers, twisting the end loosely in his index.

“It's soft like silk...”

The warning filled her mind again but before she could act on it, he let it fall from his grasp and resumed his meal.

“I hope you can come back to cook for me again soon... It's been long since I had such a satisfying meal like this.”

The young woman smiled, feeling disconcerted at the sudden change in his behaviour and not really trusting her voice at that moment, quickly eating something to fill her silence.

Some minutes later, they finished the main course and she went back to the kitchen to bring tea and some dessert. Shingen widened his eyes in surprise and delight as she put a small plate with a few pieces of kinako mochi in front of him.

“I can't believe you managed to make this feast and my favourite sweets in such a short amount of time.”

“A good cook knows how to organise themselves and their time” she replied sitting down again.

He did not waste a second to try it, and she felt pleased to see his expression of joy. Way before she finished hers, he had eaten everything, not leaving even the smallest piece.

After finishing the tea and, as she showed sign to stand up, he beat her to it and picked up the tableware.

“I can do this” he said with a small smile. “Even I know how a dishwasher works” she laughed softly. “Have some rest while you can.”

He finished tidying everything up quickly, not wanting to waste the minutes they could still be together, but when he returned to the table, he did not find her resting. Instead, she was looking through the window at the city that extended beyond, the outline of the old buildings and pagodas giving the skyline the appearance of a city from a time long gone. Her fingers were barely touching the glass and it was obvious that her mind was far from there. Frowning slightly, wondering what had absorbed her mind so deeply, he stood by her, studying her profile, her long hair falling freely from the hairpin that gathered the top half of her tresses at her nape and the sparkles that the sunlight brought to her eyes.

When he realised it, he had lifted his hand to touch her, but before he could lower it down, she turned her head to him, staring into his eyes, serene and relaxed.

“What were you thinking?” his voice was barely a murmur, low and quiet.

Her cheeks covered in a beautiful shade of pink, but her eyes never wavered.

“That I'll get to see this view and live this life every day once I become your wife.”

Shingen swallowed hard because he knew he was about to give a step forward and he felt slightly uneasy that she would not follow, because a marriage to him was not just a quiet moment and a gold ring and after hours of relishing in the company of each other, sharing what both loved, there was another way of getting to know each other that he wanted to try up to where she let him. His fingertips caressed her warm skin and, maybe reading in his pupils his intention, she smiled softly.

He bent forward slowly to give her time to step back, to stop him, but she did not and he was the one who, stopped just a breath away from her face.

“Have you been kissed before?”

Her cheeks burnt at his question, her eyes searching his questioningly.

“O-Only once... A long time ago...”

He blinked slowly, his golden pupils never truly leaving hers, as he brushed her lower lip with the tip of his thumb in a deliberate caress. Her eyelids fluttered closed and Shingen dropped his finger, replacing it with his mouth, reminding himself to be gentle in that first chaste kiss. Her mouth tasted like the dessert they had eaten a few minutes ago and he felt compelled to try it again. He had barely separated from her when he returned, pressing more urgently against her, his teeth gracing the plump flesh of her mouth. Their breaths mingled as they parted for just a fleeting moment, seeking each other again, his tongue delving between her lips to entice her to follow him without reserves. A small sound left her throat, her fingers grasping the sleeves of his T-shirt when she felt her legs shake and Shingen's arms held her tighter against him. She was almost out of breath, her chest burning when he finally released her, his mouth brushing her cheek, dropping feathered kisses along it.

“You're so adorable... so endearing...”

He nuzzled at her jaw whispering her name and venturing lower. His lips locked on her throat, his teeth gracing her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest, abruptly taking her out of the pleasurable bliss she had been drowning in, and her eyes widened, her hands pushing at his chest.

“No, please...” she begged. “I can't have any... marks...”

He stilled, his mouth leaving her neck. However, he did not move. Instead, she felt the tip of his tongue trace slowly, almost lazily, a small pattern on her skin, making her shiver. Then, he pecked the same spot and lifted his head to look at her. His pupils were darken than before, almost golden like the sunset, a wave of desire still lingering in them. She lowered her head, feeling strangely awkward.

“I'm sorry...”

He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks softly.

“Don't” he kissed her once again, briefly. “I just got impatient...”

Shingen leant his forehead against hers as her fingers covered the back of one of his hands.

“If it's a must, we'll wait until our wedding night” a mischievous smirk drew across his lips. “But I warn you that after so much restraining, I won't be letting you sleep at all, so be ready.”

He laughed heartily when she pouted a bit, her cheeks as red as ripped apples, and then, he drew her closer in a loving embrace. Her fingers grasped the back of his T-shirt and she buried her face in his chest.

“I promise you that I'll do whatever in my hand to make you happy.”

“And I'll try my best to become a woman you can fall in love with.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“You're fine as you are now. Your sweet side is charming, as well as the fire and the strength that lie behind it. In your own way, you're a great woman and I'm starting to like her much more than I had imagined at first.”

Her only response was to tighten her hold around him and he thought that they would really be happy, despite the peebles that life had and would be putting in their way. After all, he had a admirable woman beside him, one that he felt he had already started to love.

[cecke8]

Your Ginger Housemate - Part 12

Previous | First [all] | Next

There we go. After long last, Part 12 is here. Sorry for taking so long. It’s not that it was difficult to right, it was just very difficult to figure out the plotline for this one. Hope you guys like it! 

- Y/n’s POV -

You awoke disorientated, engulfed in darkness. You sat up groggily and rubbed your eyes, it felt as if you had slept for hours upon hours! But that couldn’t be right, could it? It would mean you had missed your alarm, besides, it was pitch black... almost. Slowly, you dragged your body around and lifted your head to see that the blind on your window, which usually allowed light to flood your room, had been forcibly shut and shoved against the glass with a pillow. It had been broken for weeks, and you hadn’t really felt you had the time to fix it. You could only think of one person who would try to help with little to no consideration to what he used.

“Jerome,” you groaned, dropping your head back onto the pillow. (Looks like you just going to have to replace the whole curtain and its railing now.) You couldn’t stay mad at him though, he had gone out of his way to make sure you slept in. So what was he up to? 

As you mulled over possibilities, you heard chuckles from downstairs and remembered your parents were home - alone with him! 

You bolted into action, wrestling your snagged legs out of the sheets and jumping out of bed. Without a second of hesitation, you were whizzing down the hallway and flying down the rickety, wooden staircase skipping two or three steps at a time. You arrived at the dining room entryway puffing.

Three pairs of eyes swivelled to greet you, one set shocked, another set curious and the last very amused. The owner of the shocked eyes was the first to react.

“Aw, good morning sweetpea. How was your sleep?” Your mum asked with a cheery smile, holding a steaming cup of what you presumed to be coffee, tightly with both hands close to her chest. You simply stared, dumbfounded at the scene before you. 

There was Jerome, smirking behind your parents back wearing a khaki t-shirt and slim jeans. Why did he always have to look so good? You shook your head and glanced around the kitchen. 

Pancakes, eggs and bacon had been piled onto four separate plates, and since both your mum and dad were sitting down, it seemed Jerome was the chef.

“It was uh, it was great mum,” you smiled weakly at her and took a seat at the small dining table.

“That’s wonderful honey. Now, let’s let go of the pleasantries, why did you never tell us?” Your mother’s tone changed into a disappointed frown. Your mouth went dry. He didn’t tell them, did he? Of course not, they both seemed far too calm for such facts.

You coughed, “Uhm, what do you mean?”

“I mean, why didn’t you tell us that Tyrone was such a marvellous cook?!”

The tension in your muscles instantly melted away,

“Yes, well, sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. Jerome could cook? Well, Jerome didn’t cook, but Tyrone certainly did. It smelt delicious.

“Well, it’s nothing. I’ve been meaning to pull my weight around here more anyway.” Jerome said it in such an innocent, bashful manner that it could be the maniac ginger that was the act.

Breakfast went without a hitch. Your mum found Tyrone “too charming and far too modest for his own good” while your dad smiled and listened, glancing in your direction from time to time. It made you wonder what he was thinking. And the food was marvellous. You made a mental note to ask about the clothes and cooking as soon as you two were alone. Which didn’t come too late, your mum was dying to see the city and your father was immensely interested in the architecture the city contained, so they were off as soon as they could.

After many waves smiles and air kisses (primarily from your mum) they had driven off and you had shut the door and strode to the kitchen. Expecting a mess, you were shocked to see it was spotless apart from a grinning redhead sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging and boots hitting the cupboard door. 

“Imma’ guess you have just a few questions?” Jerome enquired as he held up his hand squinting through the closed gap his fingers made.

You crossed your arms, suddenly very aware that you were still in your pyjamas which weren’t entirely conservative.

“Well, yeah. Of course, I do. Like, where did you learn to cook like that?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I had to cook for my mom all the time. She was too drunk. She would... make me using a variety of, well, let's just say techniques. So I sorta had to learn. Haha, she probably woulda been a fire hazard - never expose alcohol to an open flame.” He giggled at his joke.

You couldn’t help but smile himself, hadn’t you originally thought of Jerome as a fire? Not just his hair and sparking eyes - sparkling never really fit with the mischief and dark humour that was embedded in them - but his unpredictable actions and moods. Unpredictable. Just like a flame. 

Jerome jumped off the counter, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“I dunno why you’re so worked up over all this. Brandon seems to like me, he’s interested in ‘what I do’,” he made quotation signs, grinning broadly, “And well, Patricia loves me!” He threw his arms out wide, clearly pleased with his deceiving performance. He began to strut to the loungeroom. Yes. Strut.

You were flabbergasted. Was Jerome really finding this situation fun? You were turning into a wreck. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and already you had chewed your nails down to torn nubs on your right hand, the left was almost complete after this morning.

You followed the overly optimistic ginger, mouth open to point out many worrisome things in this situation, reasons why he shouldn’t be feeling so good about himself right now and was he seriously on the first name basis with your parents already?!

You nearly ran face first into his shoulder as he suddenly halted and spun around. Catching your facial expression, he held your lips together with two fingers.

“C’mon dollface, give it to me this time. I’m good at this.” His eyes twinkled with... pride?

You flicked your head to the side to the loose grip silencing you fell away. Crossing your arms, you walked to the couch and collapsed onto it sideways, exhaling loudly. While you massaged the bridge of your nose, trying to cope with the rising pressure of anxiety once more, you heard Jerome’s footsteps move around to the front of the couch. He crouched down beside and sat down, his back towards you and his fiery head inline with your forearm. His hair always looked so soft and smooth. Why did a psycho care so much about his hair? And more importantly, why did you have to care so much as about a psycho.

Jerome huffed, and you wondered what he was thinking. It was always hard to determine. You strongly believed that just because his face was saying one thing, didn’t entirely mean his mind was the same. And he was so hard to track behaviour wise. His moods flicking between one and another as if there was a switch located in his brain that he, and only he could understand. 

He sighed again, louder and smiled. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve had to act uh... normal before you know.”

You snorted, “Yep. And last time you did you ended up in Arkham. So your really reassuring me Jerome. Please, just shut it.” You didn’t usually take out your stress and anxiety on other people, but today you couldn’t help it.

You felt his shoulder stiffen against your arm. You opened one eye to see his head twitch to the side and back. Jerome turned towards, his face contaminated with furious irritation.

Jerome hadn’t done anything that made you truly scared of him since the beginning. Sure, the things that made him laugh (such as the horror action movies he wanted to watch) and his carelessness for his own and anyone else’s well being made you worry, but he never did anything that gave you any reason to be scared of your own safety around him. 

Maybe you were being hopeful, but it was almost as if he was careful around you. Cautious; weary of reining in the full intensity of his uncontrollable moods. This time, however, in your annoyance, you had hit a nerve. It scared you. 

“It would have all worked if my old creep of a father stayed away from good ol’ detective Gordan,” he hissed.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose as he tilted his head to the side and a truly crazed look filled his eyes while the corners of his mouth curved into a slight smile.

“But nooo. He had to ruin the whole game by telling Jimbo and his twinkie,” he spat.

You realised his hand clenching and unclenching like a piston working to cool down an overheating machine. Whether or not it was working, you were unsure. 

Struggling to find your voice, you croaked out the only words your terrified mind would allow.

“J-Jerome. Please...” Your voice broke before you could finish your plea. Fear constricting your throat.

The switch flicked, and the fire in his eyes burnt out. His eyebrows furrowed for a second as he looked down. When he looked back up at you, it was almost as if he was in turmoil while the small, insane smile that had scared you witless was no more and was instead a clenched jaw. The mood swing left you slightly shocked, but the fear continued to hold you still.

“Jerome?” You whispered.

Jerome stood up abruptly and strode to the door that led into the alley.

“Jerome, what are you doing?” You worried as the ginger grabbed his hooded leather jacket (you had to buy him a new one that was a little less conspicuous than the black trench coat with stains and a bullet hole). 

It was still daylight. He could get caught!

Jerome sighed heavily, almost a growl, as he opened the door and looked back at you standing hopelessly in the loungeroom. The past fear still had your hands shaking. He must have seen it.

“I had to go to... I dunno. College. I had to go help with a project or something. Just... yeah.” Without looking at you again, Jerome sauntered out the doorway, letting the doorway slam shut.

What the hell? Was all you could think. Things were good, even if they were stressful, and now this? What were you going to tell your mum and dad? 

What was wrong with Jerome? Why were you dealing with all this?

Although irrational, you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault. Why couldn’t you keep your big mouth shut?

What’s wrong with me? 

- Jerome’s POV - 

What’s wrong with me?

 I know, I know, it’s a little shorter for how long an update’s been, but trust me - there’s going to be more action in the next part!

If I’ve missed anyone who has already sent me a request to be on my taglist for ‘Your Ginger Housemate’, I’m truly sorry, but some usernames would not work. If you would like to be o the taglist, send us a request and I’ll put your name down. If you would like to be tagged in any other stories I have, then specify and it will be done. Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @sp00der-m00n @unicornwitch870 @skellingtonarmy @rockyrocket15

[redhairedhobi]

BTS reactions to your scars

Genre: Fluff/angst

Note: Mentions of self harm, scars, a few drops of blood.

***

Seokjin:

He's beside you on the couch when he notices. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up ever so slightly as you focus on the book you're reading. He breathes in a bit too sharply to be subtle. You turn your head.

He's glancing at them.

"Oh." Ever so softly, your voice rings in the still air. "Um." You pull your sleeves down, debating what you should say. Should you trust him?

"I get sort of sad." You glance at him, and he awkwardly places a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N." His eyes are wide. "You shouldn't do this to yourself."

You go back to reading.

"Y/N wait."

He asks you questions that you wouldn't answer if anyone else had asked. For some reason, you're okay with him knowing. He's like an older brother to you, and listens to everything you have to say in response to him.

He doesn't bring up the topic in front of anyone, and for a couple of months neither of you talk about it. He keeps an eye on you on quiet nights. A phone call, a text message, a note, making sure you take care of yourself.

Namjoon:

"Jagi just open the door."

He's sitting outside your closed bedroom door, his heart breaking at the sound of you sobbing. Unbeknownst to him you're sitting there on the other side, wiping tears and staring at the luminous stars on your ceiling, lighting up the dim room. A small click resounds and the door creaks open. At this point you don't even care if he sees. Which he does.

You let him take you into his arms, too exhausted to fight back. You hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, but he gently caresses your wrists.

"It's okay, Y/N." He places your hands on his shoulders and lifts you off of the cold floor, laying you down on the bed.

You let him comfort you. "Joonie?"

His eyes meet yours. You see no pity. Relieved, you relax against him. "This doesn't change anything, does it?"

He hums for a second before replying. "Not at all. You're still the you I fell in love with."

You fall asleep in his arms as he looks at you solemnly. "We'll get through this." He runs his fingers through your hair, lying down.

He doesnt let go of you through the night.

Yoongi:

He wakes up in the middle of the night. Stress induced insomnia, how wonderful. A sigh escapes his lips as he fumbles for the doorknob, knowing that any attempts to lie back down will be futile for the next half hour.

He finds you curled up on his living room floor.

He almost facepalms as he remembers you came over and ended up spending the night, because of the thunderstorm. He can't figure out why you aren't in the other room.

He turns on a small light, but it's enough to make you stir. You shift your position, still unconscious, and his eyes fall on your exposed wrists.

His face falls. "Y/N?"

He shakily runs a hand through his hair. "No no no no please no." he murmurs, as his eyes fill with tears. Unlike being on stage, where he has to hold back for fans, he lets go. Tears roll down his face as he sits down beside you.

"Baby...please no." His heart refuses to believe the sight in front of him. He recalls his own dark times and shudders. You're going through your own darkness, and he understands it.

He softly kisses your head, and you open an eye. He takes your hands in his, and can't help but smile when you awaken a few moments later, hair messy and lips pouting.

"Hi jagi."

You need a second before you remember what you were doing prior to falling asleep. "Yoongi." You bite your lip, sitting up.

He laces his fingers with yours. "I love you, you know."

A while passes, neither of you acknowledging the prominent lines on your forearms. His fingers brush against your skin, inching towards them. "You're fighting a battle, and I want to help you win the war."

You cup his cheeks, only then noticing how wet they are. Your thumbs wipe away a few droplets.

"Dont cry for me." You say.

"I'll always cry for you." He kisses you. "I'm going to help you, I promise."

Hoseok:

You absentmindedly scratch at your half healed scars mid-conversation with J-hope. He goes to sip his drink when he sees them. "Ja-jagiya?"

Your eyes dart to where he is staring at and before you know it you're in your room, shaking.

"Y/N?" His tone shifts from shock to worry. "I'm sorry!" He goes after you, pausing at the door.

You sat on your bed, bunching up edges of your blanket in curled up fists.

"We need to talk about this. You- you have to tell me these things! Don't you trust me?" He lets out a frustrated groan. "You just-" His voice softens at the sight of you trembling slightly, focused on breathing only. "Hey, hey look at me."

You end up grabbing your teddy bear and hug it with all your might, shaking your head. "I'm sorry," is all you can manage. He places his hands on your thighs, kneeling in front of you.

"No, I am. I got scared. I'm just scared baby, not angry. You can tell me things, okay? I'll worry about you otherwise."

Jimin:

He is sitting at the table lying on his arm, gazing at you across him from him. Intently studying, you wonder why you let him in. He's distracting you.

You finally finish and join him, copying his pose, looking at him. Your hand by his face, his by yours. Your eyes trail onto your reminders of what you did last night.

He notices, but stays quiet as his mind fills with thoughts. He can't imagine doing the same, but he also hurts himself in other ways to make up for his lackings.

He was just waiting for the right time to tell you. Maybe now is the time.

He sees you look away as soon as his eyes meet yours. You know he knows.

"Y/N-ssi?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm pretty sure there's a star outside shining for you."

He'd do anything to see that smile. He pokes your face. "I want to tell you something about me."

Taehyung:

"Hello." You smile as Tae's arms slide around your waist. You finish setting the table for breakfast.

"You could've woken me up earlier." He pouts, as you put a pancake on his plate.

"On your only weekend with me? Never!" You grin. "You deserve sleep." You can only hope he doesn't notice the dark circles under your eyes. "Now eat up."

You sit down to eat. "Pass me the syrup." You extend you arm, and he goes to hand you the bottle when your sleeve rides up.

"What happened?" He asks as you take the bottle from him, setting it down beside your plate.

"Hmm?" You feign ignorance.

"Your arm," he says.

You sigh. "Nothing, Tae. Don't worry."

"Don't wor-?" It hits him like a brick. "Are you, are those...did you do that?" He fumbles for words.

Your silence gives him an answer.

"Y/N HOW COULD YOU?"

Tae storms out of the room in frustration. You don't blame him.

How could he be with a broken person?

A few minutes pass. You sigh, expecting a goodbye. Instead he returns calmly.

"I didnt mean to get mad. I just felt hurt that I didn't know about..." he trails off, unsure of what to say. "I care about you and to know you're hurting like this, well, I can't stand it."

You have never seen him cry up until now. He grabs you in a tight hug, partly so that you can't see his face.

"I love you too much to see you like this."

Jungkook:

"Y/N-ah?"

Both of you forgot that the door to Jungkook's room was open. You are standing in the hall, and he barely notices your figure in the doorway until he takes off his gaming headphones and stands up to get some water.

"Don't mind me, Kook." You step away. He catches a glimpse of red seeping through your sleeve, leaving doubt in his mind. Still, he lets you walk away. A handful of hours later it is dark again. Night comes like a thick blanket with embroidered stars twinkling. You go home, despite the boys being nice enough to ask you to stay the night.

Your phone rings, it's Jungkook. "You forgot your hat. I'm returning it right now."

Before you can protest he's at your apartment door, knocking.

Too fast, this kid. You mentally curse.

He holds out your hat once you open the door. You take the hat from him, your wrist flashing at him for a brief moment. His expression doesn't change, but he lets out a small breath.

"Uh, yeah here you go." He pats your hand with a small smile. "Sleep well," he quietly adds. His footsteps echo down the hallway as he leaves.

"Thanks." You close the door. You're sure he saw your scars. Sighing, you toss your hat onto a chair. "He'll do what he wants with that information." You're too tired and numb to deal with him.

In the morning you receive a text from him. 'Everything's still normal between us, right? I won't tell anyone.'

You reply. 'Yeah, I guess. Meet me in an hour?'

[nipnapples]

A Very BTS Christmas (pt 3/7)

This is a short one but I got suuuuuper caught up in it.  

Pairing: J-Hope + reader

Genre: Smmmmmmmmuuuuut

Raiting: 18+

Merry Christmas, Darling 

It was christmas eve and I was curled under several quilts in my living room.  The tree was set up in the corner, bulbs of various size, color, and sparkle dangling from it branches.  The light twinkled off of them softly, one of the only sources of light in the room.  Outside, snow was tumbling from the sky, transforming what had been a generally dull and grey day into something that could have been a scene from a children’s book.  The sky was dyed a deep blue velvet, the lamps from the parking lot outside illuminating the glitter of each flake that fell against its inky expanse.  The radiator beneath the window creeked and cracked as it combated the draft that whisped between the window and it’s frame.  Due to the holiday, I had received the day off and had decided to spend the day rewatching the entirety of Downton Abbey, and I was caught up in the thick romance of Matthew and Mary when I heard a key in the lock and the sound of Hobi entering the apartment.  

“Hey, doll,” he said as he passed me with a swift kiss on the top of my head.  His arms were full brown paper bags of take-out, as per Christmas tradition within our household.  Hobi would stop on his way home from the office, pick up several containers of sweet and sour chicken from the Chinese place on the corner and we would eat and watch movies until we could no longer keep our eyes open.  I was nervous that Hobi would make me go outside to play in the fresh snow, as he hadn’t gotten a chance yet to do with his brothers scattered to the wind.  He had 6 siblings, several still in Seoul but two were abroad.  It was the first Christmas that the Bangtan Boys wouldn’t be together.  He had been handling the distance better than I’d anticipated.  

But as he kicked his shoes off at the door and unwound his scarf, I knew that we were in for the night.  Pleased, I wiggled deeper into my blanket mountain.   

I glanced up at him, a smile dancing on my lips.  “Hey, Hope, you know something?” I asked him as he began to unload the bags on the counter.  

“What’s that?” He asked, pouring all of the sweet and sour sauce into one big bowl for our feast.  

“I love you a lot, and missed you allllll day.”  I tilted my head over the arm of the couch to look at him.  My eyes traveled upwards from his woolen sock clad feet, over his long legs, lingered on his lean hands and shoulders before resting on his heart shaped face.  

He smirked and glanced up at me.  “I told you the wine was for tonight, babe.”  

I laughed.  “I know!”  I picked up my glass of rose and took a dainty sip as he moved into the living room with the food and his own glass of red.  “This, this I found in the pantry from thanksgiving.”  

“Ooh, you should not be drinking that...”

“Wine doesn’t expire, it gets better with age,” I told him as he settled down beside me.  He set the food down on the coffee table and pulled my legs onto his lap.  I pulled a container of rice to me and some chopsticks, sloppily attempting to eat.  “You never answered me,” I said as I pressed play on Downton.  

“Did you ask me a question?”  He asked, propping his feet up and smiling mischievously at me.  

“Yes.  Wait, no.  I said I loved you.”

“Oh right,”  he went back to his food.  

“Hobi,” I whined at him.  

“I’m just fucking with you,” He laughed, pulling me into him to kiss the top of my head.  “Of course I love you, you goofball,”  

“Good,” I sighed, tucking back into my rice.   It was a Christmas special, of Downton, and even though Hobi did not particularly enjoy watching two hours of 1920’s English drama, I knew he would humor drunk me for the duration, so long as I put in something of his choice later on.  

As the episode progressed and we finished our meal, the snow began to come down harder, completely blocking out any features that may have been distinguishable in the darkness.  Hobi got up and turned out the kitchen light, leaving us only with the light of the TV and the Christmas tree, blinking softly between shades of blue, green, and red.  I glanced at him as Matthew and Mary confessed their love for each other (finally) and felt my heart expand as I looked at him.  

In the soft lighting, the shadows highlighted his strong jawline that his friends made fun of him for, and I ached to run my finger gently along it.  His lips were full and plush, and every now and then he would lick them softly, a habit of his that drove me insane.  The more I looked at his ceramic smooth skin, the more I thought of leaning over and raking my nails through his hair.  How his hands would roll gently over my hips, grasp my waist, and crush me to him.  My heart stuttered at the thought of my lips on his, how they would travel along his jaw to reach the hallow beneath his ear before I would gently latch onto his lobe, making him moan and grind upwards against me.  My breath caught in my throat at the thought.  

“You’re staring at me again,” Hobi snapped me out of my fantasy, his eyes continuously trained on the television.  

“I am not,” I scoffed, quickly shifting my attention back to the show.  

“Doll, I’ve told you before, you are an especially bad liar.”  He shifted, but I still refused to look at him.  “What were you thinking about?”  He asked, and I could feel the warmth of his body against the side of my face.  

“Absolutely nothing, I am watching the show,” I took a large gulp of my wine, praying that he would think that the flush of my cheeks was from the alcohol and not from his proximity.  

“Did you know,” he whispered into my ear as he ran the tip of his nose along my jawline.  “That I do not believe you one bit?”  I felt his lips brush my neck and cheek as he moved painfully slow.  I felt Hobi’s fingers inch slowly over to my own, his pinky brushing over mine before his hand settled on my upper thigh.  

I tilted my head to the side, allowing more access to my neck, and his lips whispered across it’s curve, barely touching.  “Why should I tell you what I was thinking, you apparently already know.”  I breathed.  

“Oh do I?”  My body shuddered at his tone, and my legs clenched as his hand that was on my thigh moved progressively upwards.  “Did it have something to do with this?”   He planted a open mouthed kiss on the exposed flesh of my shoulder.  I sighed heavily and his other hand that had been draped over the back of the couch dropped to my lower back, playing with the hem of my shirt and dancing over my skin.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  

I turned my body towards him, taking his face in my hands.  Hobi smiled briefly, a bright and shining thing that should be hung in the sky where it belonged.  His eyes were large and full of adoration of me, even when I was sleepy, sloppy, and a little bit wine-drunk, and the thought made my heart explode and move at the speed of a racehorse.  We’d been together for three years, and he was still capable of having this effect on me.  

“Did you know that you’re very pretty?” I told him, running my thumbs along his high cheekbones.  

“You’ve told me, once or twice.”  

“Okay, but like, it’s illegal how pretty you are.  You could be a pop star if you wanted.”  I traced his bottom lip as it curved into a smile again at my words.  

“What an odd choice of profession, Y/N, you could have said model or something...”  

I shook my head, stubborn.  “Nope, pop star.”  

He sighed heavily at my drunken ridiculousness.  “Whatever you say, babe.”  

I opened my mouth to argue my point some more, but Hobi silenced me by dropping his mouth onto mine.  I tangled my fingers in his hair as his arms wound their way around my waist, squeezing me tightly to him.  He laid me back against the cushions of the couch, my pile of quilts falling to the floor.  His lips journeyed away from mine, slowly moving across my cheek, down my jaw, and to the hollow of my collar bone which he had exposed by tugging the collar of my t-shirt away.  I gasped and arched my back upwards as he sucked on the delicate flesh, nipping gently enough not to cause too much pain.  I felt him smile as I moaned, begging him for more contact and less clothing.  

“You know,” he said, as his hands wandered up inside of my shirt, finger tips ghosting at the underside of my breast.  “You know, we haven’t had sex on the living room floor in a very long time.  When was it?”  

“I don’t remember at this exact moment,” I gasped as his thumb grazed my nipple.  

“Mm, yes, you see?”  He murmured gently into my skin, his other hand pushing the band of my sweats down so he could slip his fingers beneath.  “Much too long, we should work on that.”  

“Okay,” I sighed before rolling him off of the couch and onto the pile of quilts on the floor.  I straddled him, feeling his hardened member pressing against my sex.  He whined lightly as I ground downwards before kissing him.  I slid my tongue inside of his mouth, tasting his need for me.  Hobi reached upwards to begin working my shirt off, but I grasped his wrist and pinned it above his head.  “Stay,” I ordered as I let go, trusting him.  I sat up as he watched, his eyes dazed but his mouth widening into a large smile as I worked my shirt off.  I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, nor panties as I had decided to do nothing all day long and figured it was silly to wear any underwear if I wasn’t leaving the house.  Granted, I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought of this exact situation when making my decision either.  

I made steady eye contact with the cherry-haired boy beneath me as I lifted my hands to my breasts, running my fingertips over my nipples, hardening them into stiff peaks.  Hobi bit is lip as he watched, and my body involuntarily rolled as I pinched one between my forefinger and thumb, sending a tingle of pleasure ricocheting through my body.  Hobi bucked upwards as my head dropped backwards, exposing my throat.  He batted my hands gently away, taking my breasts in his palms before sitting up to take one of my nipples between his lips.  I buried my fingers in his hair as he continued to roll the nub between his lips, flicking occasionally.  I moaned his name softly, working his shirt up and over his back.  Hobi grasped my waist and rolled me over, positioning himself between my legs. He pulled his tshirt over his head, and then tugged my sweats down the rest of the way.  His eyebrows shot up at the absence of panties, and he glanced up at me before running his tongue over his lips and teeth.  

“What do you need from me, baby?”  He asked, his smile growing as he brushed a finger over my heated core.  “You’re so ready for me already, so not much?”  

I shuddered and moaned out as he slid one long finger inside of me, curling upwards to hit my g-spot roughly.  “Hobi,” I breathed.  “I need you Hobi,”  

“Hm,”  He murmured, pressing kisses along the inside of my legs.  My hips bucked upwards as he brushed a wet kiss long my folds before licking a strip over my center.  His tongue swirled along my clit before sucking harshly, ripping a half-scream from my chest.  

My fingers were buried in his hair, guiding his head gently up and down.  Occasionally he would glance up at me from between my legs, to watch my face crumple and my teeth scrape at my lips.  He began to tease when he saw how close I was getting, bringing me so near the brink before pulling me back again several times.  He pressed his hand against my stomach to keep me still and  I groaned in frustration.  Hobi laughed, the vibrations thrumming across my clit making my toes curl almost painfully.  “Stop playing, Hobi,” I commanded, and Hobi pulled away to watch himself slide two fingers inside.  

“Stop playing?  I’ll see what I can do.”  He sat up, tugging his jeans off to reveal his hardened cock beneath his boxers.  These he rolled off gently, never taking his eyes off of me, and my stomach shuddered at the sight of his swollen head as it was released.  

“Goddamn,” I moaned before Hobi leaned in again to kiss me hard.  He sucked my lip between his teeth and bit down, groaning as I took him in my hands.  I pumped him several times before sliding the head of his member along my folds, teasing him into oversensitivity as he had me.  “Show me how much you need me, Hobi.”  

“Fuck, Y/N,”  I arched my back as he slid in hard and fast.  I felt my walls stretch around him, and he began to pump slowly.  As I adjusted, Hobi began to pick up speed, harder and harder until the air was being knocked from my lungs with sharp cries.  He paused, lifting himself higher above me before grasping my legs.  These he pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders before thrusting back inside at a new angle.  He watched himself disappear inside of me, chewing his lip in an attempt to stop himself from coming at the sight.  

The edges of my vision began to sparkle like the lights on the tree, and my back arched as his cock began to hit my g-spot at a new angle.  I held my breath as I came, crying out a series of curses as I tightened around Hobi, my body convulsing in a cocktail of pleasure, euphoria, and adrenaline.

“That’s it, Doll, come for me.”  Hobi hissed between his teeth as I came undone around him.  “Goddamn you’re fucking stunning.”  He fucked harder into me, before dropping my legs and pulling out of me.   Hobi flipped me over and lifted my ass in the air, and I rested my weight onto my elbows.  I jerked forward violently, almost tumbling to the carpet, as Hobi reentered me with force.  His fingers wandered forward again, finding my clit and working me towards a second orgasim.  As I cried out again, he lifted me, pressing my back against his chest.  “Just like that, Y/N, just like that, I’m almost there.  Make as much noise as you need,”  I obeyed as I came, moaning my way through the crash of heat that rushed through my body.  Hobi came hard after that, pulling out the last second before to come on my skin.  He was warm, and I shuddered at the sensation against my flesh.  I collapsed against him, and his hands wrapped around my middle to support the both of us.  We breathed heavily like this for a few minutes, before Hobi stood and moved to the bathroom.  

He came back with a warm washcloth, which he used to clean up our mess.  We laughed at the smear in my hair, at his enthusiasm, which he gently worked out with the cloth, making me promise to shower.  

When I returned after the shower, Hobi had rearranged the quilts on the floor into a make-shift bed beside the Christmas tree, so that at the right angle I could see the lights through the branches.  He had put Arthur Christmas on the television and made hot cocoa with peppermint blossom cookies from the bakery he knew was my favorite.  

I felt the smile split my face in half as I crawled into his open arms.  He pressed play on the movie, and scratched my back as I drank my cocoa.  He played with the wet strands of my hair before braiding it for me, kissing my shoulders gently.

“You know something?”  He asked, as we laid down and he circled his arms around me.  The snow had stopped outside, blanketing the world in a thick down comforter of white.  Curled against Hobi, I was happy to be protected and warm inside rather than being out there.    

I pressed my face into his chest, kissing his collarbone gently and settling in for the movie.   “What, Hope?”

“I love you.  Lots and lots and lots.”  

I smiled.  “I know you’re making fun of me-”

“What?  Never!”

“-But I love you too.”  

Hobi kissed the top of my head.  “Merry Christmas, my love,”  

“Merry Christmas, my hope.”       

[the-green-haired-fellow]

Heaven is a Place on Earth  Joker X Reader

“I can see my baby swingin’

His parliaments on fire and his hands are up 

On the balcony and I’m singing  

Ooh baby ooh baby 

I’m in love”

“Come on baby it’s getting to hot in here” I heard him say glancing around the loud and glittering club, seeming to distrust everyone in the room. Some sort of silent exchange was made between Frost and himself due to the eye contact he made momentarily with Frost who only nodded back.. I slowly turned my head to him releasing myself from romantic thoughts of him and I that danced in my head. I smiled looking into his scared and tattooed face. His blue eyes met my green ones for a weird second before he came to a stand. He looked sharp as always. Black dress pants a crisp white button up. I swooned inside watching him walk so perfectly through the crowd taking my hand when I started to fall behind; being to busy caught up in how the muscles in his shoulders flexed as he moved. I held his icy cold hand firmly in mine; his grip was relaxed yet seemed to be ready to pull the trigger on any funny man that tried something. I giggled saying  ‘funny man’ out loud to myself. What an odd way to describe someone. The bouncers pushed the doors open and we entered Gotham’s cool night air that sent shivers up my exposed legs. “Where are we going honey?” I said playfully. He smiled then kissed my hand. “Oh just for a little drive” he said walking to the drivers side of the Lambo. I nodded becoming weary of the situation. It was always a toss up with J I never knew if he was ditching a scene to avoid a ‘vacation’ at Arkham, possibly a beat down from batsy or he was finally going to cut my neck and leave me to dry like he always threatened when he was angry. I swallowed hard noticing the two armed thugs standing behind me. I looked to J who was still standing by the drivers side in a trace, eyes locked on the ground. “Baby what’s going on?” I said weakly. Maybe this was it. He looked at me something sad coming to his face. “Nothing doll” he said “Get in the car so I can get you home. I’m not losing my doll again” I nodded compliantly getting in the luxury car his word echoing through my head. Lose me again? 

Two or three months ago I had been taken by Black Mask being used as a hostage until J, like the good man he is agreed to kill the mayor of Gotham. Since Black mask lacked the means to do it himself he needed J to do it, being he was gifted in anything having to do with murder though not gifted in being bossed around. If J completed the task Mask would return me safely home. Ultimately the plan failed miserably. I was locked in a damp basement for I think about a week until one day the steel door on the joint was blasted off of it’s hinges. Frost stepped in with a machine gun taking out the two creeps that guarded me then ushered for the other men to come down, J came down last making him vulnerable for one of Mask’s men to stick a gun to his head, which they did. All and all guns went a-blazing and Black Mask escaped the shoot out. Maybe he really did miss me? I bopped myself on the head dismissing the silly thoughts, my presence was an option for him not a necessity.   

J took no time starting up the car and jamming it down the street. The sheer power of the vehicle slammed me back in my seat ripping my focus from my thoughts. “J what the hell” I said smacking his shoulder. There was an odd silence between us until our eyes met putting a smile on both of our faces. This turned into giggles and in a few minutes we were two laughing maniac’s zooming down 12th street. “Oh baby” he said caressing my face with a smile. The lights from the buildings we drove past threw a sort of beautiful Aura around him. I smiled back leaning forward connecting my lips with his. 

The moment we made contact it was as if everything exploded. All my fears and insecurities gone with the touch of his icy hand and sound of his purr. We continued on kissing (and driving) until there was a violent crunching sound and I found myself being hurtled through the air. My eyes only connecting with the night sky, squinted a little trying to avoid their horrible glare. This was an unfamiliar situation usually I loved to gaze up and see the twinkling lights of other worlds but my eyes couldn’t take it. The initial impact of the ground didn’t hurt being so my brain was still trying to comprehend why the stars were acting the way they were. Then the sliding began and suddenly none of that astronomical mumbo-jumbo mattered. My skin felt like it was being lit up fire then dosed in chemicals over and over again. All 115 pounds of me slid a crossed the black top only being stopped when my head smacked off a brick building knocking me temporarily unconscious. When I came to I could hear gunshots around me but no person came into view, until I saw a black caped figure stalking towards me, his eyes seeming to glow a blue color. My heart quickened as my arms attempted to drag me away from him until the pain hit. I screamed in agony looking down at my body. Parts of my arms and legs were completely skinned and bloodied seeming to create a pool of my own life source below me. He scooped me up looking quickly round him before firing what I now know to be his bat-claw “J!” I screamed looking down below as the Dark Knight whisked me through the air. I spotted J for a short second he was slumped up against his car completely still. “Baby!” I screamed fighting Batman’s grasp. I kicked my legs and writhed around until I broke his hold falling freely down until I found myself rocked by a black nothingness. 

For a quick second I thought I was dead; my eyes opening to be stared down by a fuzzy light above me. Was this heaven? To my dismay it wasn’t A pretty brown haired nurse came and stuck a needle in my arm. “Ow lady watch it” I said weakly. She simply smiled at me and continued about her business. Sorely I looked around the room it was that of any basic hospital. A beeping machine stiff white blankets, the smell of cleanser. The only difference was I seemed to be in a sort of solitary confinement room. It was completely cement and had a heavy metal door locked tight instead of the flimsy blue curtain they usually had. I peered through the little window that that was on the door spotting the bat’s black cowl. Anger vibrated me and I felt my legs coming to a stand forcing me to run to the door. “I’m going to kill you Bat-freak let me out of here!” My bloodied fist pounded on the glass until I felt it crack underneath my fist. I smiled a sense of encouragement enabling me to hit harder until I was able to crash my fist through the window my hand grabbing the first throat I could. It was the nurse that had poked me before, the bat was completely gone. Most likely due to the fact he wasn’t there to begin with, only being a figment of my imagination. 

A week ago I had a nail technician due my nails longer and sharper for no reason really besides I saw the ones Cat women had and thought eh why not try something new? J when he saw them held my hand in his a mischievous grin coming to his face. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in tight. “Whaddya say we go in the back and break those puppies in? hmm?” I laughed kissing him on the lips as he lifted me up laughing as he made his way to our bedroom. I grew sad at the memory digging my nails deeper and deeper into the nurse’s neck hoping that maybe the harder I squeezed he would come strolling down the hallways machine gun in hand, Frost to the side of him taking out any loser that came at them. Her warm blood trickled in between my fingers making it harder to keep my grip turning her whimpers into deafening screams. 

A team of cops suddenly lined up in front of the door. Their guns drawn. “Open the doors boys and the lady gets to keep her neck” I peered into the cops faces recognizing one to be Jim Gordon. He was talking harshly into a walkie talkie. “So what are we supposed to do let this crazy bitch walk free. She’s practically got a staff members throat completely ripped out.” Whoever was talking on the other end seemed to easy Jim’s conflict which worried me. Was my Price okay? Was this one of their tricks where they say if I cooperate I could see J but when  they let me out he’s laying dead of a stretcher. My nostrils flared, anger boiling in my stomach. “Okay boys you have one more chance let me out of the nurse is going to have a serious throat ache.” I watched the police their shoes shining excellent off of the polished speckled floor. Gordon nodded giving the ‘go ahead’ nod to an officer who opened the door. I stepped out smiling at Gotham’s finest dragging the nurse with me. “Now could any of you tell me where my Prince is?” I made steady eye contact with every officer. They kept their justice loving mouths shut. “Fine then” I said squeezing the nurses throat harder. She fell to her knees with a scream. All the police officers lunged forward looking to Gordon for directions. I locked my eyes on his. “God dammit. Y/n stop. He’s in route to a different hospital.” I smiled at him “See was it really that har-” everyone's attention was pulled away when the hospital doors flew open revealing a patient with pale skin and green hair.. 

My heart dropped “How in the- Why is he here” Gordon shouted talking excitedly into his walkie talkie.Everything in my brain broke loose not being able to fathom the emotions the coursed through my body. My grip tightened on the nurses throat until I was able to completely tear a section of her jugular clean out. Blood splattered a crossed everyone's faces. None of that mattered though my legs broke out into a full sprint. “J!” i screamed. He looked back. “Y/n!” he sat up quickly and took out the doctors surrounding him. I was just feet away from him. No not feet inches both of us reached out our hands about to touch when I was pulled back. My eyes looked down to see two nightmarish rubber black arms then up to J. “No!” he yelled trying to fight the swarm of cops that was subduing him his eyes looking into mine with panic? or fear swarming in them. I called out his name over and over again until a pinch on my arm brought me back to the nothingness I had just broken out of. 

Thanks for reading! More to come Same Bat-time Same Bat-channel :) To honest I’m not sure why I put the song lyrics in the beginning but I just felt like it. The Song it “West coast” by Lana Del Ray. All credit for the song lyrics goes to her. 

[theliterateape]

Santa's Gift

By J. L. Thurston

RICKY STOOD IN THE SNOW WITH ONE SNEAKER UNTIED AND HIS BACKPACK HANGING FAR TOO LOW ON HIS BACK. His breath misted in the frigid December air. He shook, but not from the cold. His mother taught him to layer up, making it almost impossible to catch a chill.

No, his shivers were from fear. A fear he had every year. But this year was going to be different.

Ricky was afraid of Santa. Granted, at age ten he realized he didn’t need to sit on Santa’s lap to get what he wanted. As long as his mother would mail his letter to Santa, he’d find what he needed most sitting by the Christmas tree.

But there could be no letters this year.

It was the day before Christmas Eve and it was the last night Santa would be in Walmart. Then he’d have to fly back north to get ready for his big night. Ricky had this last chance to get what he wanted most in the whole world. It was now or never.

Ricky mustered his courage and entered the giant glass doors of Walmart. Instantly, warm air blasted him. A giant fake Christmas tree greeted him at the entrance along with the smell of Subway’s baking bread and the constant background roar of shoppers as they scurried for last minute items. Exhausted cashiers mechanically moved items across the scanner. And, above it all, was the clanging of a Salvation Army bell-ringer.

Ricky ducked his head low, praying none of the guys from school were there. He pointed his wet sneakers toward the Lawn and Garden department and marched as quickly as possible through the crowded store.

The glass doors to Lawn and Garden opened up. He was welcomed with twinkling lights and holiday music. A Christmas display stretched out before him. Fake trees of all shapes and colors lined a mock snowy lawn. Sitting on a throne of Coke-a-Cola cases was the big man himself. He laughed “Ho! Ho! Ho!” and he shook his fat belly. He took a photo with each child whether they be screaming to leave or screaming to stay.

The line was forever long. Ricky stood at the edge of wanting to run, his legs bobbing oddly as he waited behind a lady with five kids. As child after child confessed their wishes and moved along, Ricky’s stomach began to clench. The closer he got to the Santa Claus the bigger the man looked. His “Ho! Ho! Ho!” seemed impossibly deep and loud. The glint in his eye appeared to be more hungry than happy and why did Ricky smell the feint stench of rotten meat?

Ricky was next. Santa had just sat a small boy in his lap.

“Why, hello, little boy! What’s your name?”

Instantly, the boy started crying and reached his arms out to his mother. She struggled with her phone, trying to snap a picture. She grinned impossibly wide and coaxed him into a tearful smile.

Ricky lurched into a sprint. The sidewalk was treacherous with ice. He just knew he’d slip and fall and Santa would get him.

Without even telling Santa what he wanted, the mother took the boy away.

Ricky stood alone. He was the last in line and suddenly he realized what a terrible mistake this all had been. The entire department was empty except for Ricky and Santa.

Santa sat expectantly, his black eyes twinkling through a mass of white facial hair. Ricky stared. All was quiet around them except for the faint twinkling of Christmas music. Santa was breathing loud and long, like a snake’s hiss. No, it wasn’t breathing. He was sniffing. He leaned forward, on hand on his knee, and sniffed Ricky’s scent like a homeless man sniffs a steak dinner. The skin beneath his beard seemed to blacken. His eyes twinkled red. The smell of decaying flesh grew stronger.

“Mmmm, yes,” he said with satisfaction. “Tell me what you want, little boy.”

Little boy came out as a hungry growl.

Ricky spun around and ran out of the department. He pushed his way past holiday shoppers, nearly slamming into more than one overburdened cart. His legs flew, carrying him out of Walmart and down two blocks.

He stopped on the corner, bent over to catch his breath. A broken stoplight blinked red, the flashing like an alarm on a sinking submarine. He looked around, feeling the cold pinpricks on the back of his neck, a warning of someone not far behind.

There seemed to be no one outside. The houses were lit up and outdoor decorations shimmered over the snow. As far as he could tell, he was alone. No, wait. There was a man standing just in the darkness, down the sidewalk, facing Ricky. The man was fat and wore bulky clothing. He began taking long strides forward.

It wasn’t until the flashing red light began to illuminate the man that Ricky’s scream caught in his throat. The shiny boots, the furry beard, and the glimmering red eyes. Santa was following him.

Ricky lurched into a sprint. The sidewalk was treacherous with ice. He just knew he’d slip and fall and Santa would get him.

He veered off the sidewalk and cut through two yards. The alley behind them was layer upon layer of untouched snow. He bounded across, safe from the ice, his ears perked to the sound of crunching snow behind him. Almost there. Almost home.

There it was. His house, his safety. The only one on the block barren of twinkling lights and decorations. Never had Ricky been so relieved to jump up to his front porch. He wrapped his gloved fingers around the knob and turned to look around. There, standing just twelve feet behind him on the street was Santa, looking calm as though he hadn’t sprinted ten blocks to chase Ricky from Walmart.

Ricky shrieked and threw himself inside. His sneakers slipped and he fell in a tangled mess on the floor.

“He’s got me! He’s got me!”

The stomping of boots came in from the living room and Ricky’s dad was standing over him, looking as bewildered and angry as he always had when dealing with his son.

Ricky was sprawled on the entryway in tears, panting and covered in melting snow.

“What is this?” The question was a warning.

Ricky twisted around to point to his stalker on the street but there was no one there.

“Dad, I mean it, he was just there!”

Ricky’s dad’s unshaven face couldn’t even muster the energy to frown. “Shut the door, we aren’t heating the whole neighborhood.”

He stomped away, leaving Ricky to shut the door and turn the bolt. He threw his bookbag and coat in the corner and squished his feet out of his wet sneakers. He was immediately too hot with his scarf, sweater, and double socks. Lots of layers, just like Mom likes.

Dinner found Ricky twitching at the slightest sounds, his eyes flickering to every window in sight, half-expecting to see Santa’s face in the darkness outside.

“Dad. I’m serious,” Ricky tried again.

“What are you even talking about?” His dad didn’t look away from the television screen.

“Dad, I,” he swallowed. “I went to see Santa today.”

This got his father’s attention. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “You what?”

“Yeah, I saw Santa, I had to ask him for-”

The hand shot up. Just a flat palm. An effective silencer. “You’re a little old for this kind of thing, Rick.”

“Dad, that’s not… Dad, Santa followed me home.”

He stared at him. “Run that by me again?”

“The guy is totally creepy, Dad. He practically chased me down the street! I don’t know how he moved so fast but he was right there I swear.”

His father rubbed a hand against his face. “Ricky, I’m too tired for this. I still have to give Annie her bath and put her to bed. I need you to clean up the kitchen and brush your teeth. You need to tuck in early tonight, we have to go to your grandparents first thing in the morning.”

Ricky’s eyes glanced to the window. He could only see blackness. “Dad, please! I’m not making this up! He was really scary, his breath smelled and he looked at me really mean.”

But his father had already tuned him out. Ricky lost all interest in food. He could only stare out the window and wait for a face to materialize.

He was too afraid to be alone so he cleaned up the kitchen as fast as he could and helped his father give Annie her bath. He even put her in clean pajamas and begged his father to read them both a story in her nursery. But when his dad stumbled half-asleep into bed, Ricky was on his own.

He ran down the hall and climbed in bed with his light on.

The red glowing numbers on his alarm clock slowly flicked the time away. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake but the next thing he knew his eyes were snapping open at the sound of the front door opening downstairs. He looked at the clock. It was three-thirty.

His bedroom light had been turned off. Ricky lay on his bed, petrified in fear. Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, then down the hall. His bedroom door creaked just slightly. Ricky could smell dead meat.

He closed his eyes and held his breath. He’d seen too many movies where loud breathing got somebody killed.

All was silent for just a moment. Then, he heard a long, hissing intake of breath next to his bed. The smell was almost unbearable.

Then he heard Santa’s demonic voice. “What do you want for Christmas, Ricky?”

Ricky’s stomach turned to stone. He swallowed sour bile. His eyes were shut so tight he saw little bursts of light. Somehow, he managed to speak.

“I w-want…”

“Yeeeesss?”

“I want my mom to come back. Please.”

The hot breath on his cheek told him Santa had inched closer. A voice like hot gravel replied, “Granted.”

Cool air whipped around and the smell of rotten meat faded. Ricky cracked his eyes open and saw that he was alone once again in his room. He threw himself out of bed and scrambled into his dad’s room. The large bed seemed so empty with just his dad in it. Ricky waited until he heard snoring before he slid under the covers next to his father. He knew he’d get his hide handed to him in the morning but he didn’t care. He let his father’s deep snores lull him into an uneasy sleep.

✶

THE NEXT MORNING, RICKY’S DAD DIDN’T YELL AT HIM OR EVEN GIVE HIM ANY GRIEF FOR SLEEPING IN HIS BED. In fact, his dad had a tiny pep in his step. He sang to Annie while he fed her breakfast and told Ricky to remember his book because his grandparents somehow broke their Wi-Fi router again.

At Ricky’s grandparents’ the horrors of the night seemed to be merely a bad dream. It was so silly with the sun out to think Santa had nothing better to do than chase him down to ask what he wanted for Christmas. He played Uno with his grandpa, Uncle Dave, and James. They opened a few presents and ate a ham dinner. Ricky fell asleep on the couch. His dad shook him awake and told him to help him carry gifts out to the car. Tomorrow was Christmas morning and they’d have to get up to go to his Grandma Regina’s house.

He remained half asleep the entire way home and nearly asked his dad to carry him upstairs to his bed. When he finally sunk under his covers, he found that he was unable to fall into peaceful slumber again.

Bit by bit he grew more and more awake as acidic fear began to eat at his belly. This was Santa’s night. He would be going from house to house, delivering presents. Would he come to Ricky’s house? Would he come back up to his room and talk to him again? Or did the smell of rotten meat on his breath come from eating children?

Ricky kept his eyes closed but he remained awake all night. He barely moved a muscle under his blankets. He was too afraid to even get out and crawl back in bed with his father. He had a paralyzing fear that Santa may somehow be lurking under his bed, just waiting to grab him.

Slowly, the sun began to come out. Once his room was illuminated enough for him to see clearly, he sat up. He had survived Christmas Eve. It was over, at least for another year.

He stretched and stood. He heard Annie beginning to stir in her crib in the bedroom next to his. His dad would soon slump out of bed to get her out. Ricky wondered what presents had been laid out for him. There was no tree this year because it was always his mom’s job to get the tree out and decorated. He guessed his father would just set the presents out on the floor in front of the television. But… what did Santa bring? He hadn’t heard a noise all night and he had been listening intently.

Ricky stepped out of his room as his dad came out of his. He mumbled a good morning and ruffled Ricky’s hair on his way to the baby’s room.

Ricky took a deep breath and slowly descended the stairs. With each step he told himself there was no present from Santa. Santa didn’t come last night. There will be nothing but gifts from Dad.

The smell of rotten meat told Ricky there was something in the living room, and as soon as he saw it, he knew that Santa had done it.

Rocking in the recliner, still in the white dress she had been buried in, sat Ricky’s mother. Though she had only died last week her skin was sagging inwardly and had sloughed off in some places. Her hair was caked in dirt. Her yellow and milky eyes turned to Ricky and her smile released an earthworm.

“Merry Christmas, Ricky.”