#jam is still plaguing my mind. who i was in the past is still plaguing my mind.

[tenjikufag]

Hiii I can ask a Shinichiro Sano has a crush on male!reader who is classmate, reader is taller than him, sensitive and romantic please ? fluff thank you 😊

Cheesy.

Shinichiro Sano x Male Reader

-fluff, mutual pining, confession, tall!reader, kind of long

-thank you for the request, I miss this man sooo much. Also the series I mention in this is purely my own imagination It Does Not Exist. Pulled out my ass.

There you stood, looming over a classmates desk that wasn’t his. Your tall stature noticed by everyone, almost hunched in half to meet just close enough to his peer to hear them.

You smiled, you laughed, at whatever they had been saying before you received the exchanged class notes.

Shinichiro couldn’t help but blush, just a little, when you made eye contact with him and you flashed a bright smile his way.. his heart leaped, the crush he had on you almost unbearable these recent days.

You felt the same, the past few days had been more than frustrating trying to think about a way you could tell him. The two of you had become friends this recent year, despite attending the same schools for almost your whole life it just seemed the timing was never right for you two to gravitate towards each other.

But, this was the time it seemed. As mature as you could be as a high schooler, you still held a child-like crush on him. No outside factors were to deter you from getting closer to him each day, and he thought all the same.

You approached his desk, quick to ask him to hang out with you at lunch. The teacher walked in, squinting at your stature to signal you to sit down. Shinichiro nodded, shooing you towards your desk that was but a few classmates behind him. With a quick ‘see ya’ you left his desk.

Your thoughts had been plagued by the black haired boy, sighing out to yourself while listening to the subject at hand albeit not even absorbing half of the information.

As said, it’s been bad the last few days, that’s why you needed to nab some notes from a friend.. you wanted to ask Shinichiro but you couldn’t, for the life of you, read his chicken scratch hand writing. Laughing lightly to yourself, you tried to jot down the ending pieces of the lesson before the bell buzzed- making all your classmates jolt up and almost run out of the classroom for lunch period.

You were rather slow to stand and gather your things, taking a moment to stretch while the class traffic jammed themselves at the door trying to escape before the other.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you approached Shinichiro and put a hand on his shoulder, giving a solid squeeze before walking infront of him- looking over your shoulder to make sure he followed you. A soft smile played on your lips, his bright eyes staring up at you and following close behind.

The hallways bustled with bodies, some rushing, others waltzing without a care and others stopped in groups to talk amongst each-other. You kept giving quick glances over your shoulder to make sure the shorter male kept in tow with you, eyes widening a fraction when you’d lost track of him.

Pouting, you kept walking towards your typical meeting spot- expecting him to make his way there. A hand reached out and clasped your wrist, looking behind you once again, it was Shin, looking slightly flustered.

Pulling him to your side, you placed a hand on his outer hip and pressed him into your side and ushered him outside- many making way for your tall stature and companion.

Your hand on his hip, his body so close to yours, his own hand placed ontop of your hand.. it felt right. It was natural. This feeling was what you wanted forever- only for it to be cut short when he quickly pulled away from you once out into the locker room- quick to change his shoes and shove his bag away.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to hold ya like that Shin.”

He froze for but a second, contemplating his response for a moment.

“Don’t mind, it made us get out faster!”

“So ya wouldn’t mind me holdin’ ya like that to get food sooner, would ya?”

Shinichiro flared up in a red blush, how were you so nonchalant about it?! His hands slapped over his cheeks, eyes looking over at you in surprise. You seemed to be just as flustered from what left your lips..

“I uh..”

“Ack! Sorry Shin.. been watching too many romance dramas.. didn’t think about it..”

Scratching your neck in embarrassment, you changed out of your school shoes into street shoes and followed him wordlessly.

“Watching romance huh? Didn’t think you’d be into that kinda thing.”

“Really? Guess we never talked about shows..”

Tapping your cheek, you gazed up as if to think about what you’d talk about.

“Yeah guess not. I’m not too much into them either, but what do ya like about them big guy?”

He smiled at the way your eyes lit up, a grin spreading across your face as you spoke about your most recent binge session.

“Gives me so many ideas about asking someone out..”

You sighed, his heart clenched just a tad.. did you even have anyone to ask out?

“I can imagine.. researching for the real thing? Who’s the lucky girl?”

Looking down at him, he had stopped his steps beside you. You blinked, it was him but you wouldn’t tell him just yet.. a devious plan came to mind.

“Lucky guy, actually.. I gotta ask you a question about that.”

He tilted his head, not all too shocked you liked dudes but curious about your question..

He wished you would ask him out..

“Meet at my place tonight, i need your help brainstormin’ an idea for him..”

Nodding, the two of you entered a convenience store and made your way back to school- the two of you didn’t share the same classes for the second half of the day.

—

The two of you sat in your room, you passing romance mangas to your friend and having a long favourite serious playing on your tv.

“Let me know which one stands out to you, or one you like.”

Oh so subtle, you thought. You knew Shinichiro would be none the wiser, so he started browsing your books and comics, your watchlists and reading the descriptions.

You also turned through your well loved pages, imagining yourself as the mc and Shin as the love interest.. sighing out, you reread your favourite passages over and over before the boy beside you put the book down and showed you.

“This one, I like this one. If I were to ask someone out I’d use this.”

Glancing down, he held up the most worn manga you had. “Days of our love.”, it was a BL surprisingly. The couple were both helplessly pining but never suspected the other to know. So in came the gifts, day by day, a new small gift would appear on their desks or in their locker cubbies, notes with subtle hints and implications.

Your eyes gleamed, picking the book up and rereading it again- the main scenes that is.

“Really? You’d be into this?”

“Yep, I’m sure the guy you’re into would also appreciate it.”

Nodding, you thanked him for the idea. Even if his own heart hurt thinking of you going through all this trouble for someone that isn’t him, he was more than happy to aid you finding your person.

“I gotta get goin’, Mikey is probably throwing a fit at gramps by now.”

His slim wrist came into view, his eyes checking the watch that laid wrapped around it.

“Alright! Get home safe, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, letting you walk him to the front door as he thanked your parents for letting him come over.

The pang in his chest didn’t let up, even while he rode his bike home it seemed to only worsen with every pedal.

Why couldn’t it be him?

—

Day One.

You’d waited atleast a week before putting your plan in motion- you’d even gotten your other friends involved to drop off the gifts and notes for you. Also going as far to make sure he’d forgotten the talk you’d had, Shin wasn’t one to have the greatest memory especially when he didn’t have to be involved. He had little to no recollection of even the manga he’d picked from that day.

Smiling, you neatly folded a note and slid it into the small gift. It was a motorcycle model, one to fit in your hand and be easily displayed. He loved motorbikes, always spoke about having one and even having his own shop one day.

—

Shinichiro reached into his desk, fumbling around searching for his pencil case but grazing an unfamiliar object. He ducked down and spotted a neatly wrapped cube.. scrunching his nose he pulled it out and hastily unwrapped it- eyes widening at the sight of a motorbike figure, exactly like the model he dreamed of! He looked around, trying to spot anyone watching him open it only to sulk down when no one was watching him.

Day Two

Breaming with excitement, you passed off the second gift to your friend which she happily received and skipped off towards Shins cubby.

A meticulously crafted origami flower laid on a note with a couple of Shins favourite hard candies.

—

Before he even got to put his things in his cubby, something dropped out and he fumbled to try and catch it.

Without crushing it, he saw the beautiful craft.. eyes glittering at the perfect folds- all pristine and sharp, not a single mistake in a fold or even a crinkle from adjustments, paired with his favourite treat. He smiled, delicately packing the gift home with him.

Day Three

Shinichiro was happy, a slight pep in his step while he walked through the halls and was gripped by you- leading him through the halls quickly.

When he reached for his shoes, a small stuffy with another favourite snack of his stuck out. You were giddy but held it down to ask what was up. He smiled brightly, showing you what he had found.

“I’ve been gettin’ gifts these past few days.. dunno from who but they seem to know what I like!”

It made your heart swell, walking out with him in tow telling you about the other two gifts.

Day Four

He was buzzing with anticipation for the next gift that would surely come, they weren’t big extravagant gifts by any means but he adored each and every one of them. But, he wanted even more to figure out who it was! Even coming to school earlier to see someone drop it off but it would already be placed! Whoever it was wanted to be secretive but by the end of the week he’d find out who!

A small piece of paper with a lovely poem was in his hand today, along with a small bunch of flowers.. they smelled so nice and the poem made him feel like he was in a cheesy romcom.

Day Five

The end of the school week, what would he get today? He would have two days apart from whoever it was, surely he could put an end to the mystery.

And yet, he stood by his desk where a Tomogatchi laid. Hours to feed it and times it slept were already mentioned and worked with his schedule along with another sickeningly sweet note. He loved this one, he’d given his own to Mikey ages ago and it was long dead so this was very sweet in his mind.

Day Six

You’d managed to hang out with Shinichiro over the weekend, but early in the morning before Shin even woke up- you knew his gramps and Mikey would be awake and snuck your way into chatting with them and bribing the younger brother to place a gift on his older brothers desk. The boy wanted to run to his brother immediately and tell on you but you’d come prepared with Taiyaki and other sweets for him, making his eyes go wide with pleasure and he delivered the gift with no further fuss.

You left and said you’d be back a bit after lunch- waving at the two, Mikeys cheek full of sugary treats as his little hand waved at you.

Shinichiro woke up a couple hours later, groggily reaching over the check his alarm clock for the time. He got up and quickly washed up before noticing a gift on his desk.

They managed to sneak in his house?!

“Mikey!”

Mikey wandered into his brothers room, lollipop in hand as he looked at him.

“What?”

“Did you see who dropped this off?”

By the way his younger brothers face twisted in a grin, he knew he’d seen who it was.

“Who was it Mikey?!”

“Sworn to secrecy, we have been silenced!”

“We?”

“Gramps is in on it!”

Shinichiro raked his hand down his face- there’s no way this person had such a broad reach!

Day Seven

He felt a little on edge, there was no gift when he woke up but he was going to hang out with you so his mind was occupied. The two of you were meeting at the park, just to hang out and maybe get food.

Shinichiro sat on a swing set, rocking back and forth while he waited.

Your figure came into view and he was quick to hop off and run up to greet you.

He stopped dead in his tracks though.

A gift sat in your hand, through your non-chalant look he assumed it wasn’t from you.. his heart sank. They got to you!

“Who’s that from?!”

He snatched it, inspecting the gift that was wrapped this time. You stood there a little shocked by the reaction.

“Do.. do you not like the gifts?”

His head snapped to you, before going back to inspect it.

“No, I love them! That’s the whole problem!”

Laughing lightly, your heart soothed itself in your chest at the fact he enjoyed them.

“You know the person, right?! You gotta tell me!”

“Uh yeah, obviously.”

“Spill it Y/n!”

“Open it, he said this one’ll be the last one if you uh.. just open it.”

You almost gave away the plan, this was the final one if he didn’t accept it- but if he did you’d be sure to gift him all the time. His eyes went wide, tearing the delicate wrapping paper, exposing a small black box. Shinichiro felt his hands shake a little, opening it and exposing a sleek silver chain- obviously not expensive but it was nice! Under it laid the note

“Will you go out with me?”

He read aloud, looking up at you.. you were flushed red but trying very hard to hide it.

It all made sense. It took him a second to recollect himself, the faint memory of the talk you’d had and.. everything else leading up to this.

“It’s you.. isn’t it?”

Shyly, you nodded. The fear of rejection making light tears prick at your eyes. Shinichiro felt like he was going to pass out.. you gave him all this and he didn’t even think about it being you?! He would’ve rejected this if it was anyone else, hell he would’ve given it all back if it wasn’t you and he happened to find out!

“So uh, whaddya say? Go out with me?”

Sucking in a breathe, he looked up at you, passing the gift back. Your heart sank, thinking this was a rejection.

“Can you put it on me?”

He turned around, waiting patiently for you to place the chain around his neck. You fumbled around with the box and chain, lightly touching his soft skin as you clasped the chain around his neck. When he turned around, a hand running across the silver links- he looked up at you.

Taking a step forward, he pushed himself to his tip-toes and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Of course I’ll go out with you..”

The tears you’d held back brimmed over and slid down your cheeks.

“Eh?! Why are you crying?!”

His quick hands went to wipe away the tears, confused about the tears because this was happy right?!

“It’s just! You picked from my favourite manga and it’s just! I can’t believe you like me back!”

He laughed lightly, hugging around your waist while you cleared up the random tears that rolled out from your eyes.

“Sensitive huh? Guess I’m dealing with a real romantic hm?”

You nodded, blushing when he kissed your jaw. Shinichiro was excited to see how else you’d try to woo him- not that he could be anymore infatuated with you at the moment. But he was happy, and looked forward to the future with you.

[lrlamauthor]

So I wrote this weird book about queer dragons. It came out the same day as the other dragon book everyone talks about. It was a Sunday Times bestseller in the UK, though, which was incredible!

However, I'm not sure how to continue to promote this book--people either seem to really like it, or not quite get it. Or it just wasn't what they expected. Which is fine, no book can please everyone, and I knew I'd made some unusual craft choices that was going to make it more marmite. (Or, as my brain tells me at midnight, I'm just a bad writer). However, there's that librarian saying "every book its reader" and the people who love this book REALLY love it, and that makes me so happy. So I decided to write this post and explain its weirdness and lay out what you can expect if you do pick it up. Maybe you're my kind of odd, too. :-)

Short pitch: 800 years ago, dragons and humans were bonded, then humans were dicks, stole the dragons' magic, and banished them to a dying world. But humans have short memories, forgot, and now worship dragons as gods. The dragon "gods" remember, and they do not forgive.

Thief Arcady steals their grandsire's stone seal (which helps them funnel magic) from their tomb. Their grandsire supposedly released a magical plague that killed a proportion of society, and Arcady is locked out of society as a result. They perform a spell to rewrite the seal to have a new identity as they want to go to university at the Citadel and also clear their family's name. Problem? The spell also accidentally calls through Everen, the last male dragon, trapped in human form. Everen has been foretold to save his kind, and now he has a chance: he just has to convince one little human to trust him mind, body, and soul, and then kill them. Then he'll be able to steal the human's magic back, rip a hole in the Veil, and the dragons can return. Good news for dragons, less good news for humans. As you might expect: this does not go to plan. Because emotions.

Grab it now. (Note: there's still a contractual delay so it's not available in US audiobook yet, annoyingly. Hopefully soon). (If you are like "weird queer dragons?! Sign me up" but aren't interested in hearing why the author has made certain decisions and want to go into the text cold, stop here! Death of the author/birth of the reader, etc. Otherwise, carry on.)

You should pick up Dragonfall if:

You like experimental narrative positions! It's all collected by an unnamed archivist who has access to both first person narratives (Arcady, the genderfluid human thief, Everen the hot dragon) and can scry into the past and draw out third person narratives (Sorin, hot priest assassin. Cassia, Everen's sister, who is also hot. Spoiler: everyone in this book is hot). Then to make it even weirder, Everen's bits are technically in first person direct address, so he's writing it all to Arcady (the first chapter ends with: "For that human was, of course, you. And this is our story, Arcady.") I ended up writing it this way for a few reasons, even though it probably would have been simpler to just stick to straight up third throughout, like most epic fantasy does. The big one is that Arcady is genderfluid and uses any pronouns (I tend to default to they when I talk about them outside of the text), and constantly gendering them in the text felt wrong whether I used he, she, or they. This way bypasses that a lot in the first volume, so it's up to the reader to make up their own mind. I also just really love first person direct address as a narrative position. It can be a little confronting, and it makes Everen the dragon sound a bit more predatory at the start. But it's also quite intimate. Is he writing his sections as an apology, or a love letter? Both? You find out at the end. So if your green flag books are: The Fifth Season, The Raven Tower, or Harrow the Ninth, this might also be your jam.

You love classic 90s fantasy. This is in many ways an homage to all the stuff I read growing up: Robin Hobb and the Realm of the Elderlings (the book is dedicated to Hobb in particular), the Dragonriders of Pern, Tad Williams, Lynn Flewelling, Robert Jordan, Mercedes Lackey, Tamora Pierce, etc. But I wanted to give it a more modern twist. I'm NB and growing up I didn't see a lot of queerness in fantasy, and I clung to the examples I did find (Vanyel, the Fool). Also, not 90s fantasy, but I also freaking loved Seraphina by Rachel Hartman and Priory of the Orange Tree, so those were influences too.

You're not put off by Worldbuilding(TM) and a slower pace. Probably because I grew up on the likes of Tad Williams, I honestly love slow-paced fantasy. I love to luxuriate in a world and take my time getting to know a made up world. In Assassin's Quest it takes over 100 pages for Fitz to leave the forest. Love it. I have a more lyrical writing style, I guess, and I'm pretty descriptive. My stuff always tends to start off slower, set the stage, and then ramps up the pace as we get further along. So yes, my book starts out with some infodumping, depending on your tolerance level of that sort of thing. I worked with a linguist and they made a conlang for the dragon language (hi @seumasofur). There's a map by Deven Rue (cartographer for Critical Role). I got nerdy.

You love queernorm fantasy! This is set in a world where it's considered rude to assume a stranger's gender and so you tend to default to they/them. If you consider someone much higher in status than you, you'd capitalise it to the honorific, such as They/Them. Once you get to know someone, you tend to flash your pronouns to them with a hand signal, since a sign language called Trade is also a lingua franca in the world. 99.95% of all the dragons are also lesbians, BTW. Everen is the last male dragon.

You like frankly silly levels of slow burn. Everen and Arcady can't physically touch without it causing Everen pain while they're half-bonded. They may or may not find creative loopholes. But it's not mega mega spicy, if you're expecting that. I expect the spice levels will gradually go up as the series progresses.

Alright, I think that's more than enough to give you a sense of what you'd find in Dragonfall. If you're open to sharing this post so it reaches more people outside of my little corner of the internet, I'd really appreciate it. Whenever I do any bit of self-promo, I'm always so anxious and worry it'll get like, 2 eyeballs on it anyway or that I'm just annoying people by mentioning that my art even exists. And if you end up liking it, please tell a friend.

I'm loving the recent dragon renaissance! Long live dragons.

[bun-z-bakery]

My contribution for vanweek :3

@vanweek2024 Day 3: Time Travel Au

"Bound By Tragedy"

Vanessa sat in the old booth, lost in the performance of the animatronics she adored as a kid. This was a usual routine for her. Make sure everything at Freddy's is “decent” and spend time with the children trapped inside the robots that once brought the place to life. 

As much as she tries to suppress it, the guilt runs skin deep, eating away at her every single day. Even if it wasn't her fault, it still haunts her, plaguing her mind with ways she could've stopped this. How could she have known? 

How could she have stopped the tragedy that would've been caused by the same person who was supposed to protect her? 

The past can't be changed, everything is set in stone, as her father would say. 

Once the performance was over, Vanessa stood and applauded the performers. However, something was wrong. She quickly noticed someone was missing. Foxy. 

She walks over to the main stage and points to Pirates Cove.

“All right, where's Foxy?”

She jokingly asks. The animatronics were known to pull pranks from time to time. Unfortunately, they must've been too distracted by their jam session to have noticed the foxy sneaking off. They shake their heads or shrug in response. 

“Let's go find our pirate!” 

Vanessa claps her hands and runs off. The animatronics follow her lead and search for their missing bandmate. 

The sound of speaking made her freeze in place. 

“Just a rat…”

A tiny rodent runs past her feet, making her cringe at the thought of having to handle it. 

She sighs before she continues the search. 

“Foxyyy? Ya here, captain?”

She calls out again as she makes her way through the grave of filthy arcade machines until she finds herself standing in front of the ball pit. 

She sighs before turning around, only to be greeted face-to-face with Foxy himself. 

Vanessa let out a shriek before she fell backwards into the ball pit. An odd sensation washed over her as the sound of heavy metal footsteps began to fade away. Something didn't feel right… 

Vanessa takes a moment before shooting up from the ball pit hoping to scare the fox back. She yelled as she made claws with her hands, fully expecting to see Foxy standing in front of her only to be greeted by... People? 

The bright lights, the kids, the busy restaurant, was this some sort of dream? 

She slowly exits the ball pit and cautiously examines her surroundings. It all feels real, it smells real… this can't be real, right? 

She walks around the lively restaurant, taking it all in. This is how it should've been, a happy place full of laughter and smiles as intended.

“Ow!”

A little girl yelped as she fell to the ground upon bumping into Vanessa. She quickly bends down and offers her hand to the little girl on the verge of tears. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry kiddo! Here, let me help…”

 The little girl looked up at her, making Vanessa freeze in place. It was her. That little girl WAS HER. 

She took Vanessa's hand and rose to her feet. 

“You ok kiddo?” 

Vanessa wistfully asked her younger self. She wasn't referring to the harmless collision. She knew exactly what today was. The clothes she wore served as a dead giveaway; today was her birthday and the day that her father ruined it all. 

Her younger self nods in response.

“I was told that a certain someone's birthday is today! Is that true?”

Vanessa smiles as she crouches down to meet her gaze. Her younger self nodded, she knew she was getting anxious. She figured it would be best not to keep her for long. 

“Take this”

Vanessa reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a rusted Freddy's security badge she kept from her time at the restaurant, handing it to her younger self. 

The girl's eyes practically light up, she hugs Vanessa before running off to the table where her friends sat. 

Vanessa smiles at the sight, seeing all of them together again. 

However, the moment didn't last long. He appeared, the yellow rabbit… Her father. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she watched him from a distance.

“Let's play a game!”

The yellow rabbit announced to the children at the table. 

She instantly knew where this was going. 

“Hide and seek!”

He covered his eyes as he began to count. The children ran and hid wherever they could. But her father never plays fair. Once he was done counting, he pretended to search for the kids as if he wasn't peaking through his fingers to make sure he knew where they all went. 

What a sick trick her mind was playing. The guilt finally took a toll and manifested into some surreal night terror. But surely they can be controlled too, right? She could give herself a happy ending, even if it meant nothing once she finally woke up. 

Vanessa makes her way to the boy closest to her 

“Hey! Your mom is looking for you!”

She points back, but the boy shushes her. He was watching, she could practically feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. 

“Come one, let's go find her!”

Vanessa gently takes his hand and leads him to his mother where he will be safe. Just as she was about to reach her, she noticed the yellow rabbit with a kid heading to the staff room. 

Her blood ran cold, and she reacted as quickly as she could. She sprinted toward them before he could shut the door.

“Wait!”

The yellow rabbit whipped his head around, staring down at Vanessa as he held the boy's hand. 

“Is there a problem, miss?”

The yellow rabbit spoke, not breaking his cheerful facade, but there was a tiny hint of irritation. 

“His parents are looking for–”

“Do you know this woman?”

He looked down at the boy, Vanessa gave a little nod to the kid. Unfortunately, he didn't get the hint.

“No… I don't know her.”

The boy shrugged, giving the man in the suit the confirmation he needed. Vanessa felt as if she was about to lose it. A mixture of fear and rage started to boil inside of her. 

“Miss, this is staff only, and our little guest here is waiting for his prize!”

“NO WAIT!!”

He closes the door before Vanessa can grab the boy. She failed… she couldn't protect him. 

She ran back to the main area, frantically searching for her younger self. 

“Vanessa!”

She runs to the girl and hugs her tightly as tears stream down her face. 

“Listen to me.”

Vanessa began as she broke the hug.

“There are some things you may not understand now, and I'm sorry I couldn't stop it… maybe in another life, everything would've been different.”

Her voice breaks as she stands to walk away from her younger self. A large yellow hand grabs Vanessa's arm and drags her to the back of the restaurant. She struggles in his grasp. 

His other hand covers her mouth just as she's about to scream. 

“Now what the hell do you think you're doing?”

He asked in a condescending tone as she continued to struggle.

“I don't know who you are, but you are NOT welcome here anymore.”

He opened the door to the staff room. Before he could drag her in, Vanessa was able to quickly free her arm and elbow her father, triggering one of the spring locks to go off. 

She ran from him as he called out for security and another staff member to assist him. 

She ran as fast as she could, not caring about the strange looks the staff or parents gave her as she threw herself into the ball pit in hopes of ending this nightmare. 

Slowly she began to regain consciousness. She stands in the ball pit and lets out a sigh of relief as she finds herself back at the abandoned pizzeria, surrounded by the worried animatronics. 

She hated those nightmares... 

The years came and went, and Vanessa found herself at the abandoned Freddy's once again. This time it wasn't to help clean up her father's mess. But rather to watch the animatronics perform like they did when she was a kid. 

Vanessa pulls out the rusted security badge she received on the day of her birthday. She smiles at it as she remembers the odd woman who gifted it to her. That was the only happy event of that day...

The band finishes their number and Vanessa puts away the badge as she stands in the old booth to clap. She pauses and walks over to the main stage, pointing to Pirates Cove.

“All right, where's Foxy?”

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Mirrorverse Crossover- Nathaniel

TRIPLE FEATURE! @msweebyness @imsparky2002

It was... Eerily calm when the young prince walked into the room. The first thing he expected from his mad counterpart was... Well... Madness. But, he sat poised and perfect as one would expect of a King, and not a sign of madness along his prim features like back in the other room. Maybe it was just an act. The outfit, although, was the only chaotic thing about him. While not to his tastes, Prince Nathaniel supposed that was just the style in his kingdom, so, he didn't judge. Although, he would ask where he got that rose brooch.

"It's quite refreshing to know I'm still of noble blood even as a... Hero." the King of Hearts said that last word as if it were poison on his tongue.

"Oh..." Prince Nathaniel's eyes darted around awkwardly. That was a... Strange sentence to start things off with. "I suppose. So, what's Wonderland like?"

The King of Heart's demeanor quickly changed with that question. His smile became wide as his eyes gleamed. "Oh! Where to begin?!" He leans forward, chin resting in his hand while his elbows were propped up on the table. "One of the greatest kingdoms in existence, mind you! When it's not being plagued by that meddlesome Cheshire Cat or that horrid boy it is simply refreshing!"

The prince nervously tugged on his collar. Maybe it was just the lighting, but he was sure he saw this guy's pupils become smaller.

The other redhead continues, "And where would a perfect kingdom be without law and order?"

Oh... That's unexpected. In a place like Wonderland, Prince Nathaniel expected no sense of order. So, curiosity peaked, he asks, "What sort of rules, exactly?" And cue the floodgates opening.

"All roses except red are outlawed, unless in the case of a wedding, then they may be white; there must always be a tea party on the fifth day of every month; never eat a tart without MY permission; the only tea you may drink at 4:00pm is jasmine tea; flamingo caretakers are to don pink attire; when a hedgehog sneezes, you must say bless you; croquet is only allowed to be played after 12:30pm; if you eat a stake on the night of a full moon, you must play the violin for a cat until it falls asleep; when it is MY birthday, gifts are mandatory and must be bigger than the palm of MY hand; anyone who comes in second in a croquet tournament must serve ME tea the next day; on an unbirthday, spread jam on a woken-up dormouse's nose; never. Ever. Paint banned roses RED!"

That last rule seemed to spark something inside of him, causing the King to mutter what the Prince believed to be profanities, but it sounded more like... He was reciting some sort of poem?

"Who dares to taint with vulgar paint, the royal flower bed? For painting my roses red, someone will lose their head. It serves them right, they planted white, and roses should be RED!"

Prince Nathaniel slowly began to back away when the poem began to sound more like a deranged one-way conversation. The King of Hearts would change the pitch of his voice with some sentences and go back to his usual pitch the next.

"Your majesty, it was his fault. Not me, your grace. 'Twas the Ace! You? No! Two! The Deuce, you say? Not me! The trey! ENOUGH!"

A squeak of fear escaped past the Prince's lips as he slowly turned toward the bubble and mouthed, "Get me out of here."

🌹♥️

"Okay, that boy is off his nut!" Aladdix exclaimed. "Someone get Nath out of there!" Her tiger-hybrid counterpart only scoffed.

"Please, this is him on a nice day. Now, if you wanna see full-on Mad King of Wonderland, let him see you painting roses red or telling Marc he's not the fairest." The Poison King preened a bit at the reminder of his boyfriend's devotion while the other Marc inadvertently created a small blizzard cloud to match his worry the longer his boyfriend was still in the room with that- and he doesn't use this word loosely- deranged lunatic.

Cosette Bellwether snickered behind their hand and pointed to the bubble. "Hey, I think it's about to get better. How much you wanna bet Princey asks about his parents?"

While Minister O'Connor murmured something along the lines of how gambling is sinful, Doctor Cabello holds up a small mint-green pouch. "This lovely pouch of pixie dust."

Simon Pan sputtered for a moment and felt his pockets, unable to find his emergency stash. "HEY!" Lacey Bell's wings fluttered with anger. Do these people not realize how much goes into making pixie dust?!

🌹♥️

"S-so!" Prince Nathaniel managed to say while wiping the sweat off of his brow. The Mad King was still in his own world and now he's brought a dagger out from his jacket pocket and is frantically waving it around! "How did you become King so early?!"

And much to his and the other heroes' relief, the King's ramblings ceased. He slowly placed the dagger back into his pocket and sat back down as he readjusted his crown which was skewed at an off angle. When Prince Nathaniel thought that was the end of it, he pulled an adorable little black and white hedgehog out of his crown and began to pet it.

"It's a darling story, you'll love it." For the first time since he walked into the room, Prince Nathaniel was finally able to relax. Hell, he felt like he could sleep, but he'll try to keep his eyes open. "My parents, such lovely rulers, they... They informed me I could not wed my boyfriend when we were of age. They even forbade me from dating or even seeing him! They went on about his reputation, but I cared for none of it. He is simply the sweetest person I know."

Is he talking about the same guy who tried to give Snow Myléne a poisoned apple earlier?... Whatever, he's calm now.

"I was just so furious every time they tried to set me up with some other suitor! I didn't want them! I just wanted MY Poison King!" Hearing the hedgehog let out a high-pitched shrill when he petted it just a little too rough, he brought the poor thing up to his face for a string of apologies.

... Okay, the story's getting a little uncomfortable now.

"One night, I guess you could say I... I snapped a bit." He laughed it off as if it were a joke, but his counterpart's expression remained haunted. "I heard my parents conversing, speaking of an arranged marriage to get me on THEIR track. To straighten me out. So, later, when they were asleep, I snuck into their room-" He cut himself off with a giggle escaping from his lips.

'Yep! He's a lunatic!'

The Mad King continued, his smile never leaving his face, "Then I grabbed the family sword off of the fire mantle, and I chopped their heads off ONE BY ONE!" With that, he throws his head off with a full-on maniacal laugh that put the other villains' signature evil laughs to shame in Prince Nathaniel's opinion. With a stabbing motion, he screamed, "MOMMY! DADDY!" and laughed some more.

Having enough, Prince Nathaniel shot up from his seat and hurried to the door, only to find that it was locked. "FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

🌹♥️

"Aaw," the Poison King cooed while Simon Pan and Lacey Bell chased Cosette Bellwether and Doctor Cabello around the room. "He's going to sleep so well tonight."

"Okay! Who locked the damn door?!" Fairy GodBro thundered, looking directly at the villains. "Huh?! This isn't funny!"

Queen Rose Candy and Juleficent snicker to themselves. The dark fae's hand glowed with magic as she was keeping the door locked so the Prince would be forced to be in a room alone with the Mad King.

Noticing this, MarcElsa seethes, causing ice stalagmites to spurt from the ground before he stormed out of the room and created an exact key to the door out of ice. The very second he unlocked it, his boyfriend came barrelling out, looking horribly pale as the deranged version of him continued to cackle.

"Rose Petal, are you alright?" He gently cups his face.

"T-t-take m-me ba-b-back t-to my do- my dorm," he stammered out and made his grip on the other Prince tighter. "He ki- he killed them-"

"It's okay," the noirette whispers and pulls his boyfriend into his arms, adjusting him so his face was in the crook of his neck. "He won't bother you anymore." As he suspected, the redhead fell right asleep once he came into contact with his frosty skin. He always did fall asleep quicker in the cold.

As the Ice Prince made his way down the hall, the King of Hearts walked out of the room where he was met with the Poison King, whom he immediately embraced. "Can you believe the nerve of him? Walking out in the middle of a conversation!" He huffs out while his boyfriend kisses every inch of his face with his poison-stained lips.

"My Wild Card, not everyone was brought up as well as you were," he says smoothly and brings his hand up to his lips.

[pumpkin-spike18]

✨Weekly Progress 2025 #3-6✨

Better late than never...!

(Don't count how often I say that.)

There's been so much to do, the end of each week keeps coming up unexpectedly. It's only halfway through the second month of 2025 and I've already participated in 2 VN gamejams. I'll never heal from this addiction, huh?

Weekly Progress 2025 #3

SWAK gamepage design

SWAK ann & posts

Various marketing posting

Threw script into renpy

Programmed Roko layered images

Finished SWAK key art render

Weekly Progress 2025 #4

Programmed Emil layered images

Scripted SWAK script (5 files)

Programmed in VA lines

Programmed in music

Weekly Progress 2025 #5

Scripted SWAK CGs

Made gamepage icon

Audio balancing, credits added

Added SWAK GUI

Uploaded & Submitted SWAK entry

FMK marketing

Planned Feb. work

Outlined upcoming FMK work

Weekly Progress #6

Sketched TJJ poses

Posted Itch devlog

Marketing discussion/ideas

Sketched & lined TJJ sprites

Outlined 2 chapters for GKW

Finished 1 TJJ sprite

(Initial sketches for TJJ sprites)

A Spring in Her Step

I'm bad with words.

But America really sucks right now. So I will use my art.

I'm working as the sprite artist for an entry to Trans Joy Jam! It will be a short coming out story with a happy ending!

Trans people deserve to be happy. They deserve to live in the way that best makes them happy. Don't give up hope. Things will get better. There are many of us who are here to make sure of that.

Trans Joy Jam ends in 9 days, but there are already some entries available to play right now! Please keep hope and look forward to a brighter future!

Full Moon Kiss

A demo has been released for SWAK Jam! Though if you follow my blog, you probably already know that. But just in case, here's a link to our BL entry about dating carnivorous host club members as a herbivore were creature!

I will likely write a Post Motem soon that'll go into further detail as to how the project was put together, along with future upcoming work so I won't talk about it as much here.

It's a lot of work to lead a project (I'm remembering why I don't do it often anymore), but it is rewarding to see it all come together at the end.

God Killing Wish

Hmm... what to say here...

This story and characters have been plaguing my mind for the past week. This is the main story for kill series, but narratively I still don't know how to make it make sense... Yet, my brain decided it wanted to daydream how the first three chapters should play out so I outlined 2.5 of them the past week.

There are four games released so far that are set in this world. I want to release at least one other game this year that introduces more of the gods and goddesses of this universe.

Since it's the year of the snake, I want to at least feature my Snake Goddess of Justice 🐍

[sulphurwritesfic]

I know I'll be alright (but I'm not tonight)

| No warnings apply | 1/1 | Hurt/Comfort | 08/10/2022 (MM/DD/YYYY)

CW: Earthquakes, Toxic Perfectionism

There isn't a soul at 4*Town's agency who doesn't know about Jesse's overworking problem, but in all fairness, he was working on it. It only really comes out when something bad happens, which really isn't too often, not anymore.

An earthquake though, that'll definitely do it.

Links: AO3 | Full Fic Below Cut

On at least some level, Jesse was aware that he had a problem. 

Last year, ‘97, Robaire had called him on it. Jesse had been sneaking out to practice after everyone else went to bed, running off at most three hours of sleep on most days. He had expectations to meet, things he couldn't fail, and to know that there was even a slight chance he could slip up was infectious.

This disease, this drive to be a walking example of perfection, was genetic. From the very moment he came into existence, it plagued him. 

What surprised him about Robaire's intervention wasn't that there was a problem, it was that he'd noticed the problem. He looked past the results, the good results, and saw what was happening on a much deeper level. Management didn't take too kindly to him putting in fewer hours, nor did they appreciate when he started making more mistakes, but for a little bit at least, he allowed himself to be satisfied with those imperfections.

But it was still genetic. When bad things happen, when he loses sight of how to manage his mind, he falls right back into his old habits.

It wasn't even like something that bad had happened. Jesse woke up after a particularly bad sleep, and when he'd gone to make himself toast, he dropped a plate. It didn't even break. He just dropped it. 

Instead of picking it up, he sat on the floor, trying to decide if he should cry or move on. 

It flipped a switch in him. His skin lit with the barest hint of energy, just noticeable enough to drive him nuts. He tried to shake it off in most cases, but today his attempt ended up with him accidently jamming his elbow into the cupboard behind him.

And that made the feeling so much worse.

When Taeyoung came into the kitchen, clad with messy hair and his oversized grey sleeping shirt, he took one sweeping look around to take everything in. Jesse waved meekly. 

Taeyoung walked right past him and hit something on the toaster. "What do you want on your toast?"

"My dignity."

He chuckled. "What happened?"

"I dropped a plate."

"I see." The toast popped, Taeyoung must have only intended to reheat it. "I don't think dignity spreads well."

"Surprise me then."

"Yes sir." 

The smell alone was enough to make him lightheaded. Maybe it was the lack of quality sleep, but whatever Taeyoung was spreading smelled delectable as it melted from the heat of the bread. He let himself get lost in the sound of the knife scraping.

Taeyoung eventually sat next to him, and handed him a new plate, adorned with two stunning pieces of jam-covered toast. 

"I thought you could use something sweet," he said. 

He took a bite. "Mm, you're something else."

"It tastes okay?"

"Tastes like dignity."

He broke into a grin. "It's just toast."

"Thanks, Tae."

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"What's wrong?" 

Did he have a tell or something? How had Taeyoumg clocked him so fast?

"I need to do something."

That's how he ended up sitting on the black leather couch in the recording studio. Originally, it had been just the two of them, but one by one the other members showed up too. He thought that putting his energy into something would nullify the buzzing, but nothing he tried behind the booth seemed to cut it. The feeling was something akin to adrenaline, keeping him heightened and alert. 

Taeyoung was doing a horrible job at pretending he wasn't worried, but in all fairness, Jesse was doing a horrible job at pretending he didn't notice. They were locked in a stasis, neither moving to push either way. 

Seriously. The buzz, in all its frustrating glory, should not have been there. He slept badly, he dropped a plate, and he hit his elbow. That was not cause for such a strong reaction, and it was a strong reaction. That feeling was incredibly familiar, a symptom of his genetic predisposition to working himself into dust. 

Maybe he should be worried? 

Oh well. He didn't want to deal with whatever deeper implications came with that, so he wasn't going to. 

Luckily for him, Aaron T. was in the booth. If there was anything that was baffling enough to distract him, it was whatever he was planning to do.

"Okay, okay Tae, put on the beat."

Taeyoung saluted, his fingers dancing across the soundboard. Jesse had no clue how it worked, nor how Taeyoung learned to navigate it, but after a few clicks and messing with one of the many reel to reel cassette tapes, a slow, groovy hip hop track played. 

Aaron T. slipped the headphones up to his ears and stepped closer to the mic. As the intro played, he threw up two peace signs, letting his arms fall back to his sides. He nodded along to the counts, and then-

"When it comes to 4*Town, better ask Robaire. He sits in on more meetings than our manager, I swear."

Was he...? Was he freestyling? 

"Got an eye for design and a heart for a mind, the pitter patter patterns of rainfall are in his eyes."

Oh God. He was freestyling. This is what Jesse got for not paying attention. 

"He's a sensitive guy, but it's a weapon in disguise! You should see the 4*Townies falling for him when he cries."

He exchanged a glance with Robaire, whose entire face was alight with glee. Apparently, this was something to be delighted by. 

Never a dull moment with Aaron T., that's for sure.

"His French is captivating, he speaks it crystal clear. He makes his fans scream 'je veux te baiser.'"

"T.!" Robaire pressed the button that allowed him to speak into the booth. "That was foul!"

"Don't act scandalised, you taught me that!" Aaron T. pointed at him. His eyes briefly met Jesse's, and a playful smirk graced his lips.

Uh oh.

He waited for the next set of eight counts to start, pressing his hands together as though he was praying.

"Forgive me father, I think I might have sinned. Jesse just grounded me for bringing up his kids."

Jesse sank further into the couch. 

"Relax old man, it happens to the best of us, can't think of one guy who gets half as annoyed at us."

He was in between deciding if he was going to kill Aaron T. when he stepped out of the booth or not. For now, a middle finger would do.

"The resident pretty boy, I think I have a crush." He put his hand on his chin like he was genuinely thinking about it. "Got all of 4*Town on our knees and has the nerve to blush. When he's on stage he's magic, you'll see. Come to our next concert, cheer for him, Jesse!"

"Fuck you!" He called out. 

He laughed. "Love you, Jess!"

"Me next!" Taeyoung pretended to pound on the glass. "Me, me please! 

Aaron T. winked, and counted himself in. "If there's ever been an angel on earth, you'd find it's Tae-youngest off the group but think he's older any day-"

"Why is he doing this?" Jesse whispered to Aaron Z. 

"Beats me."

"-time you'll find him taking care of injured ani-mulls over every single reason he should leave us for the wolves."

"He's kinda clever," Aaron Z. added.

Jesse shook his head. "I will bet actual money he wrote these ahead of time."

"Be nice," Robaire teased, "he has a crush on you."

"Oh stop." He waved him away. 

"Did I call him an angel? I forgot, he's kinda not. Though we're both troublemakers, only I get caught."

Taeyoung made an innocent heart with his hands. 

"He's our baby brother, our muse, our inspiration, and his fans? There's enough to fill a whole nation."

"Baller!" Taeyoung cheered. 

"Ay-ron-zee, you're next!"

"Oh god," he mumbled.

"Our dance captain, that's my boy Aaron Z., he spits bars and riffs like it'll make him big green."

"He's coming for your gig." Robaire made a big show of sitting next to Aaron Z., putting his arm around him. 

Aaron Z. shoved him off. "Shut up."

"A little bit quiet but a softie at heart, unless you try to show him up, he'll tear your ass apart. 

He gave Robaire a foul glare. 

"Only ended up with us cause Robbie up and begged, left us spiralling and trying to get him in the bag."

"You love me." Robaire mouthed. Aaron Z. slapped his shoulder.

"Commodity and prodigy, everybody knows it's true. Catch Z! Coming to a big screen near you!"

Aaron T. slipped the headphones off, letting them rest on his shoulders. Taeyoung must have decided this was a personal attack, because he charged over to speak into the booth. 

"Put those back on, you're not done."

"Wha-"

"You didn't do yourself."

His nose scrunched. "Jeez, okay, if you're so excited."

"Yes I am," Taeyoung insisted, "Go go go!"

He put the headphones back on. "Last but not least, there's me, and that's T! There isn't much to say, but it's great being me."

Jesse found it hard to believe there could ever be few words to describe Aaron T.

"I'm with the best guys I ever could have known, the more I got to know them the more they really shown."

Oh. He was buttering them up. That made more sense.

"With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see." Aaron T. bopped along with the words. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me. 4*Town forever, our slogan reigns true. Immortalised in music and we do it all for you."

"Woo!" Robaire cheered. 

Aaron Z. flinched. "Do you have to yell in my ear?"

"You're grumpy today." Taeyoung giggled.

"'Am not," he grumbled.

Aaron T. left the recording booth and hit a button on the console to stop the tape. 

"T." Jesse nodded toward Aaron Z. "Make him happy."

He saluted. "Aye aye!"

"Don't-"

Aaron T. grabbed his wrist and gave him a little tug. He guided Aaron Z. to where there was a little more space, put his hands on his waist, and swayed like they were a high school couple at prom. 

"What's wrong?" He asked gently. 

Aaron Z., despite willingly participating in Aaron T.'s antics, did his best to look and sound annoyed. "Nothing."

"Nothing," he imitated, "okay big man, if you say so."

He shut his eyes. "'Gonna kill you, Jesse."

"Shh." Aaron T. stroked the side of his head. "Violence is not the answer."

"Aaron."

Jesse watched the mock gentleness become genuine as Aaron T.'s body language changed. "I've got you, you can relax."

And he did. Somehow, through the special Aaron bond or whatever, Aaron Z. completely melted, becoming putty for Aaron T. to mold. Jesse almost felt like he was intruding. 

Aaron Z. sighed. "Thanks."

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

He mumbled something, and Aaron T.'s cheeks flushed, his eyes widening with surprise. "If you say so."

Yup, now he really felt like he was intruding.

Taeyoung shuffled awkwardly past them to fill the now empty spot on the couch. 

"Are they staring?" Aaron Z. asked.

"Mhm."

He opened an eye. "Jealous?"

Maybe a little. Maybe a lot, but not for the reasons he was insinuating. Jesse would give just about anything to relax in that same way, to deflate, to stop being so itchy.

He squirmed a little, and Aaron Z.'s brow creased with worry. 

"Of course!" Taeyoung huffed. "But I can't decide who I'm more jealous of."

Aaron Z., gave Aaron T. a pat on the back. "Go give Tae some love."

They shared a look. 

"Okay." He eventually beamed. "If you say so."

Aaron Z. shuffled onto the couch, sitting on the arm. He nudged Jesse's shoulder. 

Taeyoung latched onto Aaron T. "With all that... what were the words?"

"Huh? Oh!" Aaron T. perked up. "With all that said and all that done I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

"I like the way that sounds." He hummed. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me, it feels nice in the mouth."

Aaron Z. nudged his shoulder again, and Jesse realised he wanted his hand. He gave it to him. 

Taeyoung repeated it again. "With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

Aaron T. gave his nose a tap. "You're cute."

"It's fun to say!" 

Jesse flashed Aaron Z. a brief smile, which only seemed to deepen the worry set in his bandmate's features. He really must've had a tell or something.

To his dismay, Taeyoung kept sparing tiny glances at them. The kid knew that Z. knew that something was up. Now pretending he wasn't on the verge of exploding from nervous energy would be even more of a challenge. 

"Jesse?" He startled when Aaron T. said his name.

"Hm?"

"You want a go?"

"I'm still recovering from..." Why was everyone staring at him? Was he supposed to do something? "whatever you just did."

He pouted. "You loved it."

Jesse blinked.

"C'mon," Aaron T. whined, "shake the house down. Start your stand-up career. Get in there and do something."

"I don't think I'd be doing anything entertaining in there."

"Why'd you want to come here anyway?" Taeyoung prodded with his words, sticking his nose into business it probably did belong in. 

"I've been working on something," he admitted, "and I'm not really happy with it yet."

"Oh!" Aaron T. straightened up. "You should've said something, I wouldn't have hogged the booth."

"No, no, it was funny."

He expected him to brighten, but instead, he could almost see the lightbulb flickering on above his head. 

Great. That just left-

Robaire chimed in, "You're acting strange."

Fantastic. 

"I didn't sleep very well, I'm just tired."

"Bull." Aaron T. crossed his arms. "What's going on?" 

"It's really-"

Taeyoung raised his hand. "Ask me! Ask me!"

Aaron Z. looked unimpressed. "What's going on, Tae?"

"He was on the kitchen floor this morning."

"Oh."

"Why were you on the kitchen floor, Jesse 4*Town?" Robaire spoke with humour, but none of it was present in the tension on his face. 

"Because I slept like shit, and I felt like shit? Really, it's fine."

There were other things he could have said, other hints, invitations he could let slip. He could tell them that he didn't want to talk about it, or try to look overly happy so they could tell something was really up, but while that itch danced across his skin he couldn't do anything to let them in.

It was his energy. Telling them about it and accepting help would only lessen the amount of work he had to do, and as much as he was already exhausted, he needed to pile as much as he could on his plate. On a level much finer than his awareness could reach, he knew he needed to be busy, to soothe his fired-up nervous system, to make something good of his limited time on this planet.

He had a song to work on. It was why he was there. As much as he loved breathing in the joy of his bandmates, that was for Jesse, not Jesse from 4*Town. 

And Jesse from 4*Town demanded his attention. 

"I dropped a plate." He turned up the dramatics, kicking his legs up onto Robaire and draping himself over Aaron Z.'s lap. "So I figured I'd drop myself too, you know, just to get even."

"How does 'I dropped a plate' become 'I need to go to the recording studio?'"

"It made a sound." He shrugged. 

Aaron Z. used his free hand to gently massage Jesse's scalp. "T.?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Don't call me that, I will leave." 

Aaron T. mimicked him, making a vaguely Z.-shaped hand puppet and having it mouth along. "I will leave."

"Is he lying?"

Jesse avoided eye contact with him. 

"Yeah, it's more than that."

For fucks sake.

"It's really nothi-"

Robaire cut in. "We're always here."

"I know!"

"Jesse-"

"I'm sorry for worrying you, it really is nothing."

He frowned. "It can be nothing. Whatever's going on doesn't have to be a big thing. You don't have to open up about it, it's just... You can tell us that there is something wrong, and leave it at that, and we'll leave it alone, but if you sit here and try to say there isn't anything wrong? That's-"

"Oh my god, let it go!" He snapped. Aaron T. flinched, and Jesse shut his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

The air was taut.

Taeyoung tried, "Jesse-" 

He stood up, startling the four couch-sitters. "Let me get set up."

He turned his back to them, grabbing an acoustic guitar off the wall and slipping into the booth. It was already tuned, courtesy of Robaire and Aaron Z.'s dramatic rendition of Careless Whisper.

He pulled the stool up to the mic and put the headphones on. 

Robaire had migrated to the seat at the control panel. His voice came through the speakers. “Do you want us to record it?”

He shook his head. “Just messing around for now.”

He blinked, and leaned forward to talk into the booth again. “You sound good over the mic.”

The tiniest amount of tension evaporated, and he chuckled. 

Aaron T. scrambled over, nudging Robaire aside so he could speak. “You need to laugh like that at least once on every album, the 4*Townies would go nuts.”

“As if.” Jesse rolled his eyes. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted, “I got chills.”

Robaire nodded seriously. “It was a very good laugh.”

“Very fertile.”

Taeyoung keeled over, laughing so hard his face turned red.

“Fertile?” 

“Did I say that?” Aaron T. grew a cheeky smile.

Aaron Z. said something, and pulled him back to the couch. Aaron T. piled onto Taeyoung, laughing at least half as hard. 

“You guys are a headache.”

Robaire raised his hands in surrender, and went in to add, “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

He traced his fingers along the guitar strings, humming to himself. Robaire took the hint, and retreated back to the couch. 

The cool metal of the strings did nothing to quell the burn in his hands. A shudder ran through him.

He gave the guitar an experimental strum, and frowned. “Can someone grab me a capo?”

Taeyoung gave him a thumb’s up, grabbed the offending object, and popped his head in the booth. As soon as the door opened, a low rumble penetrated the soundproof walls.

“Here-”

Jesse only barely caught himself as the stool suddenly slipped out from under him. His arms flew up as he tried to steady himself, but his legs were shaking.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What was happening?

He made the briefest eye contact with Aaron Z. as the bandmate in question ducked beneath the couch. 

Holy shit, holy, was this an earthquake?

The mic fell into the glass, cracking it where they collided. 

Taeyoung clutched the doorframe, an arm over his head in a poor attempt to protect himself.

The cabinet swayed dangerously.

“Tae!” Robaire called. “Move!”

It tipped.

Jesse made a break for him.

His hand clamped around his wrist, and he tugged.

The cabinet crashed, cassette tapes flying as the world continued to shake. 

“Tae?” Jesse had both arms around him. 

He breathed, “Whoa.”

Jesse guided him down to the floor, using his body as a shield. “Cover your neck with your hands.”

“What?”

He took Taeyoung’s hands and put them behind his head. “Like this. You’re okay.”

“This is an earthquake?”

“It’s an earthquake,” he said with more confidence than he had. 

The mic stand shifted again, crashing into his back. Taeyoung flinched below him. 

“You’re okay,” he reassured, “It’ll be over soon.”

“Jess!” Someone, Robaire, called out. 

It was too late though. Something hit him.

One of his arm’s buckled, but the other was enough to keep him from crushing the boy beneath him. He tried to shake the weight off. 

“Tae?”

“Yeah?” 

“Crawl over to the wall, use your elbows, don’t take your hands away from your neck.”

“Wh-”

He fought to keep himself from slipping. What was so heavy? “Just do it.”

He did as he was told, inching his way to the wall.

Robaire called again, barely audible over the sound of the things falling in other rooms. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine!” 

“Are you sure?”

“Not much you could do if we weren’t.”

The shaking stopped.

As soon as Taeyoung was clear, Jesse let himself drop. 

“Holy shit.” Taeyoung breathed. “Jesse?”

“Keep still, it could start again.”

“Jesse, the roof-”

Oh. That’s what had him pinned. 

“I’m alright. We have to count to sixty, okay?”

“The roof, you’re under-”

“Tae.” Jesse reached forward. “Tae, it’s okay. Count with me, okay? We can’t do anything until we know it’s done, so we have to count.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“One.” He tried to sound as soothing as he could. “Two, three, four…”

Taeyoung joined in. “Five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

At twenty-four, the earth began its rampage again. 

The aftershock carried much less strength than the first round, but it was still enough to make the duo tense up. 

“You’re doing good,” Jesse said. 

Taeyoung laughed. “You sure? Cause everything about this feels wrong.”

“This is exactly what they teach kids to do here. We had drills in elementary school.”

“They do drills in Seoul sometimes, for first responders mostly.”

“In Seoul? What about Busan?”

He shook his head. “Not at my school.” 

“This must be pretty scary then.”

“Understatement.”

The shaking came to another standstill. Jesse breathed the tension out of his shoulders. “You ready to count again?”

“From one?”

“You got it.”

Taeyoung peeked up at him. “That’s annoying.”

He scoffed. “Tell that to the earth.”

“How many times is it gonna start shaking again?” 

“There’s no way to know. We just count.”

“And if we get to sixty and nothing happens?”

“We get the fuck out of here.”

“Right, okay, so, one, two, three…”

“...fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.” They finished together.

For a moment, there was quiet.

“Are you guys okay?” Jesse called out.

“Everything’s good out here,” Aaron T. responded, “but uh…”

“What?”

“The cabinet is kinda… I don’t think you’re getting out anytime soon.”

Oh.

Taeyoung sat up, shuffling over to get the piece of the roof off Jesse’s back. “Oh! It’s not too heavy.”

He nodded. “I’m just at a bad angle, I think.”

“Hold on, let me-” The weight disappeared. “Okay! Move!”

Jesse scooted away, sitting with his back to the wall. With a huff, Taeyoung dropped the roof tile and sat back down next to him. 

Aaron Z. appeared in the window. “We could try to break you out?”

“Leave it to the professionals please.” Jesse's brows turned up. “You three should go.”

“We can’t.” Robaire joined him, pounding on the glass in slow motion. “The door is jammed.”

What a headache. 

“Now what?” He crossed his arms.

Aaron Z. shrugged. “We wait.”

“Can you call anyone?”

“I tried,” Robaire said, “lines are down.”

Taeyoung groaned. “That is so annoying.”

Jesse nodded his agreement. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Jeez, you two are sour.” Aaron T. propped himself on the soundboard. “It’s not that different from when they cut our power.”

Aaron Z. swatted at him. “Don’t bring that up.” 

“We just need to chat or something, no big deal.”

Maybe he was right. They were all okay, it was just a waiting game.

It would be easier if he didn’t still feel so damn itchy. Seriously, who survives an earthquake, and the first thing they want to do after is work? 

He really did have a problem.

“You know what?” Robaire pulled a chair over so he could sit. “We could make a pretty good song out of this. Shaking up my heart or something.”

“Stop that.” Taeyoung giggled. “You’re shaking up my heart, something, something, you make it stop and start.”

“Let’s get you a writing credit on the next album.” Aaron T. grinned. 

He continued, “When you walk in the room, it starts to shake. Baby, you’re my earthquake.”

Robaire grew a fond smile. “That’s the winner.” 

“We’ll do a whole album!”

“I don’t mean to impede on the fun.” Aaron Z. gave Jesse a pointed stare. “But I just want to make it clear that if any of you feel even the tiniest bit off, you need to tell me.”

Jesse tried to look relaxed. “This feels targeted.”

“The roof did fall on you,” Taeyoung pointed out.

“I feel fine.”

“You’ll let me know if that changes?”

Would he? “Of course.”

Aaron Z. looked sceptical, but didn’t push any further. 

“How bad do you reckon the earthquake was?” 

“Reckon?” Aaron T. gaped. “You wanna add a yeehaw next time? A giddy up? You mistake Cali for Nashville?”

“Hey, what if we did something cowboy themed for the next album?” Taeyoung suggested, “Right at home for you Jesse.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don't think you have much room to make fun of the way I talk.”

“I reckon y’all didn't take the chickens out the barnyard. Giddy up, let's get a move on!” Aaron T. used the world’s worst southern accent. It probably couldn't even be classified as southern, definitely not to a specific area.

“You know you just made no sense, right?”

He glanced at Robaire so briefly that Jesse almost missed it. “Sorry a-boot that, just caught a load of beaver over by the igloo. Had to haul it home by moose.”

“C’est quoi ce bordel?” Robaire mumbled, “You’ve been to Vancouver, you know Canada isn't like that.”

“Vancouver isn't real.”

… Yes it is?

“Okay Aaron, whatever you say.”

“You sure he didn't hit his head or something?” Jesse checked.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Shame.”

“Hey!” 

His earlier internal comment about headaches manifested into a real one. How convenient. 

“Seriously though.” Robaire refocused the conversation. “That wasn't a small earthquake.”

“How damaged are the cassettes?” Taeyoung, the poor kid, had gone back to looking like a nervous wreck. “Our demos are all on there.”

Aaron T. grimaced. “Some of them are toast, but some look okay.”

It would be a shame to lose their demos. Jesse always had it in the back of his mind that they might release a special album or something with those original versions of their songs. It was something the fans would enjoy.

Their old agency would have shot the idea down immediately. If it wasn't profitable to the average teenage girl, it wasn't going to happen, and an album curated to what existing fans wanted to hear wasn't the way to get new fans.

He hated thinking of the 4*Townies like that, like they were people to be enticed, to become trapped in the fear of missing out and race to be the “best fan.” He especially hated that they were being used for profit. It frustrated him to no end. Every 4*Townie he’d met was, at their core, someone with a life equally as complex as his, he didn't want to take advantage of them! 

It was a sure-fire way to make him think of his time at art school, specifically the professors he looked up to. There were some incredible artists there, people who cradled the emotions of the viewer and delicately reminded them that they are not alone. 

It was never about the money for Jesse.

Maybe throwing something on the wheel would get rid of that still present burn to be doing something. Back when ceramics was part of his curriculum, it would do the trick.

He hoped the earthquake didn't make a mess of his studio. That would suck.

It was kinda cold. He found himself staring at where the roof had given out, trying to decide whether there was a breeze or not. 

“Jesse?” Aaron Z. yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You’re very spacey.”

Maybe he was. That wasn't uncommon after a horrible sleep. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you're good, just… making sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're a little pale,” Taeyoung fussed. 

“Seriously, I'm fine.���

He didn't appear to be convincing anyone. Why did nobody ever believe him when he said he was okay? What a headache.

Right. His head actually hurt. Maybe it was time to retire that figure of speech.

“Any changes?” Aaron Z. prompted.

“I don't know, my head hurts? It's just because I’m tired.”

“Did it hurt earlier?”

No. “I don't know, does it matter? The roof didn't hit my head.”

He didn’t respond. Guilt twisted in Jesse’s chest, thick enough to cause actual pain. Of course Aaron would be stressed, it’s not like he’d had the best experience with people close to him and health. He really should be more considerate.

“What should I be paying attention to?”

“Numbness, abdominal pain…”

Jesse blinked, and Aaron Z. was done talking, watching him expectantly.

Oh. That… that probably wasn’t good.

“Was having trouble focusing on that list? Cause…”

“Jesse.”

“I really did sleep like shit.”

…

Taeyoung raised a hand to his cheek. “You’re cold.”

“There’s a draft, isn’t there?”

“No?”

Oh.

…

“Show me your back.” Aaron Z. had none of his signature stoicism. 

“I don’t want to.”

Robaire and Aaron T. exchanged a glance that could only be described as frightened, but that was only barely visible. 

…

His vision swam, when did it start swimming?

…

“Jesse?” Taeyoung shook him lightly, sending specks of light dancing around the room. Each one hurt as he became aware of them. “Hey, are you listening?”

“What?” He had to fight to make his mouth move.

…

What was happening? Why was it happening so fast? Was it actually happening as quick as it felt, or was he losing time? How much had he lost?

…

He heard bits of sentences. 

“... internal bleeding.” That was Aaron Z.

And then Aaron T. “... be okay?”

Something crashed. He was lying on the floor. Taeyoung held him. 

“...nose is bleeding.”

“What?”

…

All at once, he became a passive observer. It wasn’t anything close to an out-of-body experience, he struggled to hold onto the little awareness he’d been left with, but he certainly wasn’t grounded in any way. 

He knew a lot of things. He knew Aaron Z. was giving instructions. He knew Taeyoung was following them. He knew Aaron T. had silently retreated, gripping himself so tightly Jesse worried his nails might break through his skin. 

He especially knew Robaire was trying to move the cabinet.

He didn’t know how he knew. He certainly didn’t have any memory of seeing it happen. He just knew. 

It happened so fast.

***

Turns out, his descent from perfectly aware to unconscious was a long and gruelling process for everybody except for Jesse. It was not fast at all.

He’d heard from his nurse that the boys reported the whole thing taking upwards of an hour. An hour.

That was a week ago though. He’d had plenty of time to process his injury, to recover from surgery, to find his footing back in his own brain in the comfort of his hospital room.

He wished he hadn’t done that last part.

Remember when he said that bad things happening sent him back to old habits? That fucking itch was worse than he’d felt in a long time. 

He’d been trying to fend it off, he really had. His nurse brought him some paper, and he’d made a fretboard to practice with, but that wasn’t anywhere close to good enough. He needed to hear what his song was sounding like, how the melody he’d been toying with would be impacted by the guitar chords, whether his lyrics complimented the sound, paper just wasn’t doing it.

He needed to get back to work, he had so much to do. The earthquake was a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to get off his ass and work on this song before another natural disaster came to take him out.

This song was important. 

It needed to be perfect.

He was going to be discharged in two days, but that wasn’t soon enough. The itch was stronger than any hunger or thirst. Satisfying it was more essential to him than breathing. 

He needed to leave.

He needed to leave right now.

He poked his head out the door to his room, taking a moment to note where everyone was. 

His room was close to the nurse’s station, where a surgeon and nurse he didn't recognize were chatting. Aside from them, the halls were eerily empty. One glance at the clock revealed it was a couple minutes after midnight. 

The surgeon left, taking off down the hall at a brisk pace as their pager sounded off. Jesse approached the nurse’s station.

“What can I do for you?” The nurse was clearly distracted, fumbling through a daunting pile of paperwork.

“I’m going home.”

He stopped. “When is your discharge date?” 

“The tenth.”

“That's not today.”

“I know.”

The nurse frowned, completely abandoning his task to give him his full attention. “Do your parents know you’re going home?”

“I'm twenty-two.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“No.” Why was this guy giving him a hard time? “I don't live with them though.”

“You got someone to pick you up?”

“I’m not asking for your permission, I just thought I should let someone know.”

The nurse gave him an unamused raise of the brows. “I'm not trying to stop you, kid. Just making sure you know what you're getting yourself into.”

He ran a hand through his hair. This was taking too long. 

“Leaving against medical advice puts you at increased risk for-”

“Save it, I've heard it before.”

“This a pastime of yours?” 

No, he just had a friend prone to injuries and spent too much time in a shitty company. “Just part of the industry.”

“Oh, an entertainer,” he said, “maybe I'll have heard of you by the next time you come in.”

Rude. 

“Bye.”

As he turned to walk away, the nurse laughed. “Goodbye bigshot.”

There was supposed to be more than that. There was much more paperwork last time. He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed at the nurse though, not when they were both equally impatient. 

So what if it was negligence? It saved him time. 

Once he was in the lobby, he stopped to think for a moment. Where was he going? The recording studio, right? That meant getting a ride to the agency’s main building.

He could call Robaire. 

…But maybe calling a cab was the better idea. 

Calling Robaire would mean going back to their apartment. The members would fuss over him, keep him from working, maybe even try to get him to go back. He needed to do work. If he didn't, there was a strong possibility he might explode.

So when he fished his phone out of his purse (he was sure his dad would roll his eyes if he knew his son was carrying a purse), he dialled the number for a cab, and made a beeline for the pickup area. 

There were benches, but he didn't sit. 

His cab arrived after the longest seven minutes of his life.

The drive was mostly spent in silence. At one point, the driver tried to make small talk. 

“Nobody to bring you clothes?” He gave him a strange look. “Is that why you're still in the gown?”

Jesse just ignored him, watching the city pass by. 

He was surprised to see how much damage the earthquake had done. Even a week later, old buildings were still taped off. Half the streetlights were dim, or dark altogether. 

The most bizarre part was the contrast. By the time he got to the agency, he’d almost gotten used to seeing the burnt shell of a store next to the dusty, cracked rubble of a townhouse, and then turning the corner to see a row of newer builds that, thanks to their more stable base, looked untouched. 

It snapped him out of his trance long enough to give the cab driver a sizable tip. He had a feeling extra cash meant a lot to people right then. 

The agency was… well. 

The outside looked pretty okay. A few of the windows were cracked, but structurally? It was definitely still a building.

The door was taped off. When he tried to open it, he found it was locked.

Great. 

The sound of his phone ringing nearly sent his soul flying out of his body. He answered the call without thinking.

“Hello?”

“I'm going to give you ten seconds to tell me why you left the hospital.”

Ah. They must've called his emergency contacts. “I feel better.”

His sister sounded more entertained than anything. “Mom’s furious.”

“Tell her to call me herself next time.”

“She did one better,” his sister whispered, “called your home phone.”

He groaned. 

“You should thank me, you’ve got like, a minute to figure out what you’re gonna say.”

He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

“Good luck, stay safe, love you.”

“Love you too.”

He loved his sister, he really did. He loved his mom too. He certainly loved her more when she didn't snitch on him. 

With his phone still in hand, he picked a new target, a smashed window on the second floor. Conveniently, there was already a ladder set up, one of the ones they stock around the building in case of a fire. 

He climbed each rung carefully. He wasn't trying to hurt himself, after all, just get to the studio, just get his hands on a guitar, sit in a place that was completely isolated so he could come back to the world being worth something.

It was never about money. It was never about fame. He was in the position to do something good, and if that meant leaving the hospital early to work on a song that one, just one person could relate to? 

His phone rang again. 

Using one hand to hold the ladder, he answered.

“Jesse.”

“Hi Ro.”

His voice was fiery “You left the hospital?”

Great. He was mad. “I'm okay.”

“Go back.”

He took a step up. “No.”

“No? Jesse, you had surgery.”

“I feel fine.”

“So go back and wait.”

“I'm not going back.”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere safe?”

He climbed another rung. “There’s no one here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

Jesse surrendered some of the tension from his shoulders. “I’m safe.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Just, come home.”

“Not yet.”

“Where could you possibly-” 

He took the phone away from his ear to pull himself in through the window. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Are you climbing?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.

“Not anymore. I'm a little busy, I'll call you back later.”

“Don't-”

He hung up. It was cheeky, childish even, but the studio was on the second floor, so he only really had a little bit more to walk. 

His phone rang again. He ignored it. 

The hallways were clear for the most part. Somebody definitely came in to clear them out. 

He wasn't quite certain why the building was closed until he got to the entrance to the recording studio. The door was still blocked. Apparently, instead of clearing the pile of debris outside the door, the rescue team had opted to tear a hole through the wall. It had since been boarded up, but when he looked through the cracks, he found that even if he had a way in, there was no way anything productive was happening in that room. 

The guitar was long gone, impaled by the mic stand. The foam padding lay strewn about in the booth, but the roof tile was the main event, taking up a majority of the floor space in its almost apocalyptic glory.

Okay, maybe he understood a little bit of why the boys were so on him. He wasn't exactly the first to offer up information about his well-being. The roof falling on him might have been something to worry about. He certainly would worry if it fell on any of them.

The rest of the studio didn't fare any better, in fact, it was significantly worse. The cabinet was the most prominent feature. It hadn't moved, and still blocked the door between the booth and the rest of the studio. Cassette reels covered the entire floor. It would have been impossible to walk without crushing any. 

A shiver ran through him. That cabinet was definitely heavier than the roof tile. If it had hit Taeyoung…

He pushed away a wave of anxiety. It didn't hit him. They were all okay. 

… He wanted to go home.

But that wasn't happening, right? He had to get into the studio, he had to use the guitar, it was a need. 

He pulled at the boards. They didn't move.

The guitar was still very much smashed anyway. 

It was so frustrating that he could tear his hair out. He backed into the wall, sliding down it as a few, baffled laughs raked through his body. 

Of course. Of course he couldn't get in. What was he thinking?

What was he thinking? 

Seriously, what did he think was going to happen?

It was unbearable.

It was hysterical.

He couldn't stop laughing.

His phone rang again, and he laughed harder.

Of course the one day his disease was more than just an itch, more than something manageable, was also the one day he couldn't do anything about it. 

Why did he think any of this was a good idea anyway? For just a moment, he remembered why he called it a disease. This wasn't good for him. He had a problem.

It was a problem that he’d come here. It was a problem that he’d put work before his well-being. It was a problem that he didn't give himself the proper time to recover. 

It was a problem. He had a problem. 

He was imperfect. At his core, he was flawed. He was never going to live up to that God-forsaken itch, because the itch itself kept him from scratching it, and sitting, facing the remains of their recording studio, laughing harder than he’d laughed in years, he finally understood that. 

It was the rawest pain he’d ever felt.

His phone rang again. He ignored it. 

He couldn't breathe. Each laugh tore the oxygen from the deepest parts of his lungs.

His phone rang again. 

And it rang. 

And he picked it up.

“Jesse?” It was Taeyoung this time. “Where are you?” 

He held a hand over the mic to try and muffle his laughter.

“Are you okay? Jesse?”

“I'm, yeah.” 

“Where are you?”

No point in hiding it now. “The agency.”

Taeyoung suddenly sounded further away. “He’s at the agency.”

“Who’s with you?”

“T.”

He took a deep breath. “Hi, Aaron.”

“Jesse says hi.”

Very distantly, he heard. “Put him on speaker.”

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Aaron,” Jesse repeated.

“Hi, Jesse.” Aaron T. responded with the tiniest hint of playfulness. “I'm gonna slap you for giving Robaire a reason to wake me up at twelve-thirty.”

He managed to get the laughter down to a chuckle. “Don't pretend you weren't still up.”

“I wasn't,” Taeyoung complained, “whatcha doing at the agency anyway?” 

He took a moment to formulate a response. “No comment.”

“He's worse than you.” Taeyoung groaned. “Wah wah, I'm Jesse, and I left the hospital early to go take care of unfinished business at the agency.” 

“Nobody is worse than Aaron.” Jesse crossed his arms. “He would've just left without telling anyone.”

“I'm right here. Hey fucker, signal when you change lanes next time!”

“You left without telling anyone.”

“I told a nurse.”

“A nurse? Not your nurse?”

“If you keep asking questions, I'll hang up and go somewhere else.”

Aaron T. gasped. “How’d you know we were on the way?”

“Because you’re swearing at other cars. They let you two go alone together?”

“You have Robaire so stressed he forgot to tell us not to.” 

Maybe he shouldn't have been so vague with Robaire. 

“I'm sorry-” he started. 

“It's just good to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” Taeyoung added, “I mean, we’ve all done this Jess, the breakdown thing, we’ve all gone and done stupid things and worried each other. The apology is nice, but I forgave you as soon as you picked up.”

“I second that,” Aaron T. said, “It would be very hypocritical for me to be mad anyway, I nearly fucked up an entire performance because of an injury.”

Taeyoung teased. “Didn’t you also freak him out that one time? On our first tour?”

Ah yes. The hitchhiking.

“Don't get me started on that, oh my fucking God it’s not your fucking right of way!”

“Jesse?” 

In all honesty, he was still processing what was just said to him. Everybody in the group had done this, sure, but it felt completely different when it was him. 

Taeyoung tried again. “You still there?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off. 

“We’re like, two blocks away, hang tight.”

“Hanging tight.”

“Are you inside?”

“I'm by the studio.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, that was about the reaction he was expecting. 

“Did you climb through the window?” Aaron T. asked. Jesse could practically see the surprise on his bandmate’s face. 

“Do you see another way in?”

“No?”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Wait-”

He put the phone down. What could he say? He had a flair for the dramatic after all. Really, it was just because he needed time to decide how honest he was going to be.

More laughter started to bubble. He’d much rather cry than laugh. At least when he was crying, his reaction was normal. The laughing was just weird.

He laughed anyway. He kept laughing as Taeyoung and Aaron T. appeared at the end of the hall.

“The wall come alive and tell a joke?” Aaron T. jogged over to sit in front of him, Taeyoung close behind. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not,” he said as soon as he found the spare air, “it’s not funny.”

“Breathe,” Taeyoung soothed, “slow down, tell us what’s happening.”

“The guitar is smashed.” 

“Huh?”

“I came all this way, and the guitar is smashed.”

They exchanged a glance.

Aaron T. wrapped his cardigan around Jesse’s shoulders. “I’m not following.” 

“I’m just.” He focused on breathing. Then, with a smile, he said, “It’s nothing.”

Taeyoung’s expression grew firm. “I love you Jess, but you can’t seriously think we’re gonna believe you’re okay, right? Look at you.”

He was a mess, he knew that.

But he could pretend he wasn’t. He could live in that fantasy for just a little longer, right?

Everyone knew it was a lie, but that was a problem for later.

“I’m okay,” he insisted, “I left because I’m okay.”

“You haven’t been okay though, not since the plate.”

He scoffed, “No shit, there was an earthquake.”

Aaron T. huffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“I…”

Who was he kidding? 

“Do you think things would be better if I wasn’t in the band?”

The question caught both Taeyoung and Aaron T. off guard, hell, it caught Jesse off guard too. 

Aaron T. answered fast, “No.”

“We’re not 4*Town without you.” Taeyoung agreed. 

“There’s something wrong with me, I can’t, there’s, it doesn’t go away, it, I don’t know, I can’t make it go away, and then I do this instead, and it’s not productive.”

“Hey, hey.” Taeyoung cupped his cheek. He leaned into it. “This isn’t about productive, okay? It never has been. You being in the band isn’t about what you can produce, it’s so much more than that.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He was a product. He always had been.

He was a product of his parents, a reflection of them that they worked so hard to curate. He was a product of their agency, and even though they pretended he wasn’t an object to toy with, everybody involved knew he was. 

His value came from the things he was able to do. 

He couldn’t say that though, because he knew it wasn’t a healthy thought pattern. The last thing he wanted to do was make the people closest to him feel even half as miserable as he felt right then.

“I’m sorry.”

Neither Aaron T. nor Taeyoung were happy with that.

“Can we go home? I think… I think I need to be away from here.”

“Of course.” Taeyoung helped him up. “Anything you need, we’re at your service.”

Aaron T. saluted. “To the car, Jesse sir!”

“Don’t call me sir.” They made their way down the hall.

“What would you prefer, sweetheart? Babygirl? Apple of my eye?”

He rolled his eyes. “None of those.”

“Go easy on him, he has a crush on you, remember?”

“Oh yes.” Aaron T. nodded. “I’m going to be very sad if you shut down my pet names.”

He was trying to fluster him, an adorable effort. “If this is you trying to make the first move, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh really?” Jesse raised a brow. “Wasn’t it you who wrote a whole verse about how irresistible I am?”

He flushed. “I didn’t write that! It just happened.”

“You’re pretty when you blush.”

Aaron T. tripped over his feet. “What?”

“I think he just short-circuited.” Taeyoung giggled.

Jesse used the small triumph to ignore his problems. “Told you.”

“That's the real reason you’re in the band, to call me pretty.”

“Sure thing, lover boy.”

Taeyoung grew one of his signature devious smiles, and leaned closer to Aaron T. “You’ve always been beautiful, Aaron.”

“Whoa, okay, let's calm down.” 

Jesse fought back a smile as they climbed back down the ladder. 

“Uh, hey Tae, do you see the car?”

Taeyoung halted, and looked over his shoulder. “No, did we get rear-ended or something?”

“It's gone.”

Jesse couldn't decide if this was funny or not. “Did you park in a tow zone?” 

“Maybe..?”

The trio dismounted the ladder. 

“Did we even park?” Taeyoung ran a hand through his hair. “I genuinely can't remember parking.”

Aaron T. patted his pockets. “Ah.”

“What?”

“I, ha ha.”

Jesse blinked slowly. “Aaron.”

“I don't have the keys. I think I might have left them in the car.”

Which meant the car never got locked.

Which meant someone had definitely stolen it.

“Don't look at me like that!” He raised his hands. “I was worried about you!”

“Worry about yourself, you’re calling Ro.”

“Don't make me.”

“You got our car stolen.”

Taeyoung nodded. “You got our car stolen.”

“Unfair! You can't gang up on me like that!”

“Good luck.”

“What if we just call our manager, have them come pick us up.”

Jesse crossed his arms. “You don't think Robaire and Z. are gonna notice that the car is missing?”

“They took the one we usually use, they might not.”

“They will.”

He whined. “Do I have to?”

Taeyoung gave him a supportive rub on the shoulder. “Put it on speaker.”

“You're my hero.”

“I'm not defending you, I just want to hear everything.”

“Hey! You didn't lock the car either.”

“I wasn't driving.”

“Fine, fine fine fine.” He pulled his phone out and sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

It rang twice before Robaire picked up.

“Is he okay? Where are you?”

“Wow.” Aaron T. put a hand on his hip. “No hi? No hello for the man who just rescued Jesse 4*Town?”

“Rescued?”

“There was no rescuing.” Jesse corrected. “Hi Ro.”

He already sounded less tense. “Thank God.”

“Sorry for… that.”

“We’ll talk about it later, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You said that last time.”

Yikes. “I have witnesses.”

“He’s safe,” Taeyoung said, “fine is another story, but he’s not like, bleeding out or anything.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll see you at home then?”

Jesse joined Taeyoung in giving Aaron T. a pointed stare. 

“Actually, funny story.”

“What now?”

“We don't have a car.”

“...”

The silence was suffocating.

“What?”

“Ha ha?”

“What happened to the car, Aaron?” Aaron Z. must've taken the phone. 

“We think someone stole it.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Take a guess.”

“We’ll come get you. Where are you?”

“The agency.”

“...”

Jesse was starting to really dislike silences. 

“Do I wanna know?”

“Yeah, you probably do,” Taeyoung said, “Hi Z., I miss you.”

“Hi Tae. We’ll be there in five.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jesse said. 

***

“You left the keys in the car?”

“Look.” Aaron T. avoided eye contact with the intimidating front seat duo by staring out the window. “...yeah I got nothing.”

Robaire made brief eye contact with Jesse through the rearview mirror. “It seriously baffles me that the three of you make such bad decisions. I can't decide who the dumbest is.” 

Aaron Z. didn't miss a beat. “It's Jesse.”

“No, yeah, it's Jesse.”

He sank further into the seat. “I'm sorry.”

“Tell me again why you left against medical advice?”

“Old habits die hard?”

Aaron T.’s eyes flicked over to him. 

“You chose to leave this time, that’s different,” Robaire said. 

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Aaron T. vouched.

He loosened a little. “I'm not trying to be hard, I'm not mad.”

From the way everyone was insisting they weren’t angry, he was starting to think maybe they should be.

“Can we go back to T. losing the car?” Taeyoung raised his hand. 

“You lost it too.”

“I wasn’t driving!”

“You were in the car.”

“I was distracted.”

“So was I!”

He let the bickering fade behind the whir of his own thoughts. As the city passed, he found himself trying to gauge where each member was at. To an outsider, the car would appear to hold three grumpy boy band members, and two that had a little too much energy, but he knew them better than that. 

Taeyoung was putting on the most convincing act, but behind the smiles and the giggling were the worried glances. Aaron T. was similar, but from the clasp of his hands to how straight he was sitting up, it was clear this whole situation was making him anxious. The stolen car probably only added to that.

Aaron Z. was the hardest to read. He carried himself with patience, turning every once and a while to signal to the T Line to keep it down, but that was almost too normal. 

Maybe he was overthinking it. He was probably overthinking it.

That left Robaire, who he also struggled to read. It wasn't until he got out of the car, put an arm around Jesse’s waist, and walked inside with him, that Jesse clued in.

Robaire had guessed.

He knew.

***

To place credit where it was due, Robaire didn't bring up the leaving early thing, nor the reason why he’d left the hospital early for the first couple of days after. 

Did it make him a little bit paranoid? Maybe, but there was better news! That stupid itch, the driving factor of this whole fiasco, had abandoned him until the next time he inevitably was mildly inconvenienced.

His actual discharge date passed, and with no complications, he found himself with a little bit too much free time. Earthquakes do that to a city. Everything was on pause while things got up and running again.

Apparently, he made the news. The public affairs team let him know that the fans were very worried about him, and sent him kind wishes, at least according to the massive influx of fan mail. The letters currently stood piled on their dining room table, all pre-read to make sure nothing disturbing got through. 

Things simmered down with the other members too. Since he was genuinely, actually feeling better, they stopped fussing. 

Well, okay. He was still technically recovering physically, so there was some fussing, but there were no more questions about why he’d been acting off. 

Somehow, he’d managed to have one of the worst days of his life, and come out of it perfectly fine. He hadn't even had to talk about it.

It was a little too good to be true.

He was never going to complain about things turning out better than expected though. Like most days off, he had ample time to sit behind a wheel, throw some clay, and let his fingers do the thinking.

His pottery studio was far enough from the epicentre of the earthquake to appear untouched, thank God. He couldn't imagine how much damage would have been caused if something had shattered the windows. He loved his studio. Stepping in, smelling the clean air, admiring how the sunlight hit the wheel, it was all a part of the magic.

The theme of the day was apparently bowls, because Jesse had already made three of them, only pausing to wedge more clay. 

He didn't look up when he heard the door open and shut.

“Hey.”

“You've been busy.” It was Robaire, to nobody's surprise.

“Want a bowl?”

He took a seat, just barely visible out of the corner of Jesse’s eye. “I've been thinking we need a new set.”

Jesse chuckled. “I wasn't actually gonna fire these up, but if you can think of anyone who needs one, I’ll happily get 'em some glaze.”

“Yeah? I’ll ask around.”

“I was thinking about making dishes to donate, since, y’know, earthquake, but I kinda just want to create.”

“You deserve time off to fuck around.” Robaire nodded. “It’s good to hear you're taking it.”

Satisfied with how incorporated his clay was, he made his way back over to the wheel. “You wanna throw something?”

“No thanks.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Clean hands.”

Jesse hummed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

They sat in an easy silence together for a while. He started the next bowl, taking extra care to make sure his clay was completely centred before pulling the walls.

“You ever think about leaving to do art?” Robaire asked suddenly.

“You ever think about going solo?”

“Touché, guess not.”

“Mhm.” He dipped a hand in his trusty water bucket, and used the extra moisture to help shape the inside of the bowl. 

“Why’d you go to the agency?”

Ah yes. There was the Robaire he knew and loved.

“To work on a song.”

“After the earthquake?”

“Yup.”

Robaire pulled his stool closer. “That's…”

“Trust me, I know.” He pulled the edges higher, using one hand inside and bowl and the other on the out to maintain an even thickness. “I'm not proud of it.”

“I'm not gonna lie, I thought all of that was left at the old agency.”

“I was born with it.” He would’ve shrugged if he wasn't focused. “S’always gonna come back.”

Robaire went quiet for a moment. Jesse worked on the rim. 

“When it does come back, how can I help?”

That was… a good, surprising? A surprising question. “Uh…”

“You don't have to answer right now, just, you could have gotten really hurt, and nobody wants that.”

“No, I just, I’ve never really thought about that before.”

“Getting help?”

“How to help.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Most of the time, I can talk myself through it,” he admitted, “but this was one of the worst episodes I’ve ever had. When it's really bad, I get stubborn as fuck.”

“No kidding.” Robaire watched as Jesse went back in to adjust the shape. “That was what had everyone scared, you completely shut down.”

He nodded. “Still sorry by the way.”

“What exactly is it, if you don't mind sharing?”

Oh. Right. “Sometimes, I get stuck in this feeling, like, of needing to stop wasting time, get something done and do it well, y’know? But no amount of work makes it go away, it just… passes on its own.”

“Which is why you left the hospital early.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow.”

Jesse took his eyes off his project for a moment. “Usually it’s not that intense.”

“What about at the old agency? When you were sneaking out?” 

“It never went away,” he said, “I didn't want it to. It made me good.”

“It made you sick.”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. “I know that now.”

There was another break. Another easy silence. 

“Since you were a kid, huh?”

“Since I was a kid.”

“Is that why you took up ceramics?”

“Kinda.” He leaned back to get a better look at the shape. “I liked that there was no expectation. Pottery is so personal that way, you know? It’s crafted with the earth and your hands. Every piece I’ve seen that stuck with me has so much personality, and that’s celebrated. It doesn't matter if this bowl doesn't look exactly like the others I make, it doesn't matter if it’s flawed, because that’s part of the beauty.”

It was something he wanted to believe about himself too. He was working on it. Feeling that way about the bowl in his hands was only the first step.

Robaire just watched as he scooped some water onto the wheel, and used his wire to separate the bowl from the metal. Jesse placed it carefully on a wooden board, placed it aside, and grabbed another piece of freshly wedged clay. 

“I'll try to let you know next time,” Jesse decided, “Just in case. It always starts manageable.”

“I’d…” He paused. “Thanks.”

He raised a brow. “I should be thanking you.”

With a goofy grin, he said, “I'm all ears.”

“I don't want to anymore.” He rolled his eyes.

“You can thank me by not hanging up after I get a call that you left the hospital without telling anyone.”

“The hospital staff knew I left.”

“Please call me next time, or better yet, don't leave.”

“If I called you, you would’ve made me come home.”

He tilted his head a little. “Yeah?”

“I didn't leave the hospital because I wanted to go home. I left because I needed to work.”

“Oh.” It finally clicked for Robaire. “Wow.”

“But I'll try, I really will.”

“For the record, I'd much rather go with you when you make bad decisions than know absolutely nothing about where you are.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“Hm.” The idea of having Robaire, or any of the boys with him at the agency made the memory of his… escapade a little less difficult to look back on. 

Taeyoung and Aaron T. showing up did take him out of the worst of it. 

“I think… I think I'll take you up on that. You might have to remind me why it’s a good idea though.”

He smiled. “Whatever you need.”

Jesse found himself smiling too. “You’re a good friend.”

He chuckled. “If only you knew how easy it is to care about you.”

He almost faltered. He had steady enough hands not to, but it was close.

“No sappy shit when I'm making bowls, you almost messed it up.”

“I almost messed it up?” Uh oh. “My hands are all the way over here.”

“You know.” 

Robaire dismounted the stool to stand behind him, resting his chin on the top of Jesse’s head. “I know.”

“You sure you don't want to give it a shot? I haven't really started this one yet.”

“What was all that up and down for then?”

“Centering the clay.”

He hesitated. “Okay.”

Jesse brightened. “Really?”

“But I have no clue what I'm doing so you’re really gonna have to help.”

“Of course.” He stepped away from the wheel, and let Robaire take his spot. “You’re gonna want a bit of water on your hands.”

They stayed at the studio until the natural light stopped hitting the pottery wheel. Evidently, Robaire’s bowl was the only one he planned to fire, in all its wonky, uneven, and charming glory. They joked about making it their dining table’s new centrepiece once Jesse made it through the fan mail. 

Part of him wondered if he would've been so receptive to Robaire’s questions and suggestions if he hadn't been in his pottery studio. It didn't really matter though, did it? They’d made headway, and they’d made it together.

It was almost overwhelming, having to lean on something that wasn't himself, but it was also connective. Whether he liked it or not, Jesse could no longer ignore that he needed his bandmates. They made him whole. They made him the best version of himself.

As scary as that was, he trusted that they weren't going anywhere. No matter how bad the day, nor how far the fall, he would always have them. 

That was the only definition of perfect he needed.

[silly-goose-kid]

Confession - a Diakko fic

WOOOO GAY FANFIC… I’ve been working on this on and off for ages. In all honesty it’s pretty bad and not well written but who cares, I just wanted an excuse to write about them! They are homosexuals your honour :]

( — marks a change in POV )

"Diana, wait up!"

Akko huffed, tingling with heat from both the sun and her annoyance. She shook unsteadily as she hovered, moving slowly but surely across the grass.

"Akko, if you're going to learn you have to try going faster than a snail!" Diana's voice was stern, as usual, but the warm giggle lacing her words was clear. "You won't fall, it's okay!"

The brunette breathed slowly and tried to push herself forward. "Make me laugh, it worked the first time!" She huffed.

Diana thought for a moment, then drifted upward and in front of Akko. Then she…

"Diana!"

Flipped upside-down?

Her tongue sticking out, she grinned at Akko. The girl laughed at her friend, her broom drifting upward and forward, gaining speed. Diana flipped back around and shook her hair back to normal. "There! Keep yourself steady and tilt forward. It's just like riding a bike, you'll be fine!"

Akko breathed and kept moving, holding tight to the wood. She was shocked to find that she was fine; no shaking, correct posture, even her hands were fitting into the slots perfectly. "Look! I'm doing it!"

Emerging from her professional shell, Diana broke out into a wide smile. She cheered and laughed and gasped. "You're flying! You really did it. You're amazing!"

The two flew for a while longer, Akko getting a hold of moving up and down and changing direction and speed, before the two descended. "You did wonderfully, Akko!" Diana exclaimed as they returned the brooms. "With a little more practice on taking off you'll be all set!"

Akko smiled. "Wow, Diana! I didn't know you could be so nice!"

The two laughed. "I'm proud of you, that's all."

The Japanese girl smirked mischievously. “And the agreed upon award, Madam Cavendish?”

Diana grimaced, but it was clear she was actually very happy to be with her friend. Picking up her bag, she motioned for Akko to follow her back to the dorms. “Put some nicer clothes on first, then we’ll go into town. I’ll meet you at the Ley Line terminal in fifteen minutes, don’t keep me waiting, okay?”

Akko smiled warmly as her friend walked away. Though Diana could still be a bit snappy and withdrawn at times, the two were finally becoming friends, and Akko always felt warm at the thought of spending time with her. She was happy they could finally talk without the walls of their ‘rivalry.’ Both of them were happy.

The girl rushed up into her dorm and changed. “Akko, how did stuff go with Diana?” Lotte asked as Akko jammed all her stuff into a bag.

“You mean her girlfriend?” Sucy chimed in, grinning. Akko groaned. “Not my girlfriend, Sucy!” The brunette quieted down and turned to Lotte. “It was fine, we’re going into town now.”

As she rushed out of the dorm, Akko heard Sucy yell down the hall, “So a date? With your girlfriend?”

“Wow, you’re actually early for once. I kinda can’t believe it,” Diana joked as Akko ran up to the ley line. “Hey, all I was doing was getting dressed, how could I be late with that?”

The blonde girl looked at her friend for a moment, then said with a slight nervous tone, “You look nice. Really pretty, actually.”

Akko smiled a little awkwardly, then walked briskly past Diana. “You do too,” she huffed with a blush. “Let's go then!”

Diana set her broom and Akko boarded it behind her; they had agreed Akko wasn’t quite experienced enough to ride in the ley line yet, even with someone to keep an eye on her. As they set off, anxiety plagued Akko’s mind at being so close to Diana in such a casual manner, but something else was there too. A warmth - joy? Excitement? Comfort? It was hard to pin.

“Hey Akko,” Diana said cautiously, her eyes fixed on the Ley Line. “Do you… have a partner?”

Akko felt the breath catch in her throat as she processed the question. “No,” she replied after a moment, confusion running through her mind and blood rushing into her cheeks. Why would Diana want to know such a thing? Was it just friendliness?

Yeah, sure… we’re friends now, that curiosity should be expected!

Diana’s subtle joy at the answer said otherwise.

—

As the two stepped off the broom, Akko looked at Diana, a pink tint lingering in her cheeks. “Do… you?”

Diana was mildly taken aback; the partner question had been asked five minutes prior, and the rest of the journey had been silent. It was the only thing Akko could be referring to, but why was there such a delay?

“Uh… no, actually,” Diana admitted quietly, her face flushing. “I do like someone, though. I… I want to get closer to them.”

Almost immediately, the girl felt regret. Surely she’d said too much; the setting, she and Akko’s growing time spent together, the awkwardness filling the air after their previous exchange. Surely Akko would notice. Surely she would be disgusted and protest.

But the brunette made no such remark. She simply smiled and glanced around the town. “So, where are we off to?”

A rush of relief hit Diana, and she shook her head a bit in an attempt to reset her brain. “How about we grab some lunch, then have a look around the shops?” She suggested. “I want to buy some new shorts.”

Akko nodded eagerly, her usual bubbly demeanour back as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, I’m starving!! Let’s get this date started!”

Ba-dump.

Date!?

Diana’s heart seemed to stop and speed up at once. Why did Akko have to phrase it like that? Of course, she was using it in a platonic context, but it felt like an attack on Diana’s weak spot .

Shaking the thoughts out of her head once again, Diana followed Akko as the brunette marched into the town square. “Is Gregg’s okay?” The Japanese girl called as Diana jogged to catch up.

“Yeah,” Diana said, pulling some money out of her bag. The two walked into the shop, Akko picking up a salad baguette and Diana ordering a sausage roll. They sat down on some steps outside and began to eat.

“Hey Diana,” Akko said, halfway through her sandwich. “Do you like girls?”

Diana felt her heart skip a beat. Why would Akko be asking such a question? While she didn’t know what the stance on such things was in Japan and other families, the Cavendishes still hung on to the idea of gay relationships being a bad omen. Diana’s aunts and uncles were firm in their beliefs on the subject, and it was considered wrong to even discuss it. While it wasn’t taboo among the general population in Britain, her upbringing made sexuality a tough subject for Diana to tackle.

“I… truth be known, yes,” Diana said, her eyes shifting to the ground. Fear of rejection or disgust was running through her mind, and the few seconds it took for Akko to reply felt like hours.

“Nice, me too!” Akko said cheerily. “I’m bi! And you are..?”

“I only like girls,” Diana said. The way she was raised made it hard for her to say lesbian, but the description was enough for Akko. Regardless, the idea that Akko being attracted to her was in the realm of possibility made Diana’s skin warm. “The girl I like is brave, and very reckless. I have to save her a lot, but she’s taught me the importance of humour and fun.”

Akko was looking over at Diana with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The blonde quickly turned away. “B-but there’s no chance she’d like someone like me,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with sadness.

“I don’t think it’s as unlikely as you think,” Akko said with a smile, her expression turning to one of affection. “You’re super smart and thoughtful, and you’re kind to others. Your dedication to your family is nothing short of amazing, not to mention how pretty you are. It’s like…”

Akko looked at Diana, the bittersweet sorrow of wanting something you could never have in her eyes, her cheeks rose pink.

“How could someone not be smitten for you?”

A few moments passed before anything more was said. The two sat, tension and longing strung between them, listening to the breeze. Diana opened her mouth. Her voice caught in her throat, and it took a few moments for the words to escape. “Thank you, but…” Her eyes met Akko’s. “No. She’d never like me.”

--

Akko’s heart was aching at the sight of Diana so distraught. The idea of such a beautiful girl feeling such self-doubt was unbearable. Akko’s feelings began bubbling over.

“If she doesn’t, she must be stupid!” The brunette exclaimed. “You have a hole in your heart, Diana. I’d fill it if I could. I know I’m not right for you, but I’d do anything to make you feel better! I wish I could make you see yourself the way I see you. You’re wonderful, Diana.”

Not a moment passed before Akko realised she’d said too much. Diana’s face was filled with shock, and maybe even fear. “Akko…”

Determination rushed into Akko’s body, and a desire to express her true feelings her way became clear. “Forget what I just said!” She ordered. The brunette took a deep breath, turned to Diana, and clasped the girl’s hands. “Diana, I like you!”

Diana’s blue eyes filled with confusion, surprise, and a tinge of happiness. “You… what?”

Akko's face dropped from excitement to sheepish shock as the adrenaline rush faded. She dropped Diana's hands and turned away, tucking her face into her collar.

Shoot, shoot!... why would I say that? I'm okay with being impulsive, but this?

"I mean… I… ignore that!! Oh crap… Can we start over? Ugh, I wanna go home…"

Diana took a deep breath, and looked out at the clouds. "If dramatic is what we're going for…"

"You know that feeling, when you look at the sky? It's the same one that you've seen since you were a child. It makes you happy inside. I've seen this sky all my life, but… it looks different when I'm with you, Akko. It's warmer."

Akko looked over at Diana, shocked and a little embarrassed. Her friend, if that was the right word, looked equally so, if not more; her icy exterior had fully thawed. The brunette opened her mouth. “So, you…?”

—

Diana nodded. “Mmm.” She couldn’t bear to look Akko in the eye. Shame and joy and confusion filled her mind, her heart pounding in her chest. This is okay. She told herself. This is good.

“If you like me, and I feel the same, can we…”

She was cut off half-way through her question. “Oh my gosh, oh my goodness, oh my goodness!! She likes me back!”

Diana couldn’t help but laugh. The sight of Akko so happy filled her with joy too. All at once, the weight of her secret disappeared, and she extended her hand.

“Be my girlfriend?”

Akko grinned warmly and clasped her hand. “Absolutely.”

[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

[bailey-reaper]

I've said it a few times already, but you write one of the best Baroks I've seen :) he's deceptively hard, but you nail his nuances, and his "in love" version is so cute ❤️ I also love a lot your take on Klint, in my mind your interpretation has become canon. Can I request something slightly different? How do you imagine Barok and Iris' first day as uncle and niece? How would they spend the day, how would they treat each other? :>

Headcanons (Barok's your Uncle, Fanny's not your Aunt)

Notes: 🥺😭 Thank you so much, @beevean! I'm so touched and grateful for your lovely compliment! And I'm delighted that you enjoy my Klint & Barok portrayals! :D ♡ Thank you very much for the request, I hope you enjoy it!

Content Warnings: GAA spoilers

Unlike any arrangement she has with Sholmes (who's always late), Iris is delighted when Barok arrives promptly and even has the courtesy to bring her a gift – of high quality tea leaves. She gratefully takes them and promises to make him a fitting special blend in thanks (he insists she doesn't need to trouble herself, but she's having none of it).

Barok's surprised when Iris presents him with an itinerary of the things they'll be doing – including a visit to London Zoo, afternoon tea and a balloon ride over Hyde Park. Still, he had promised her the entire day and he has no qualms about the events she has in mind. Of course, he insists that he'll be paying even when she politely suggests they split the cost of the day.

They start the outing at a cafe near London Zoo, where Iris has lavender tea and a jam tart while Barok has a cup of drinking chocolate. At first, they're rather... polite, almost wooden, with one another - because it's very odd for both of them to accept that they're no longer the orphans they once perceived themselves to be; they're a family, bound by blood, albeit there's much time to catch up on.

As such, the initial talk is mostly small talk: how Iris tolerates living with Sholmes, confirmation that he has been a reasonably able guardian, etc

Barok makes for intelligent and engaging company, much to Iris' delight, and she says he simply must come over for dinner one day as she believes he'd be a wonderful dinner guest. He accepts, albeit with the caveat that Sholmes has no part in cooking the meal. She assures him he knows the kitchen is out of bounds.

Gradually, as the day progresses, they start to soften toward one another and become more comfortable – not that they mistrusted one another, it's just been such an odd time and at last those earth-shattering events are starting to become part of the past rather than the present.

Iris does notice, however, that Barok is continually glancing over his shoulder and paying particular attention to shadowy backstreets or side roads. Eventually, she asks him about it and Barok confesses that he had his reservations about meeting with her due to his infamy as the 'Reaper of the Bailey'.

Even if that spectre has been largely put to bed in his mind and those present at that closed trial – London's criminal underbelly has no idea about the reaper's true identity and as such they continue to target Barok (despite there being no further murders since then).

She asks him why he allows the Reaper to continue to exist, and he replies that the best thing he can do moving forward is be a deterrent to the criminals of London – "If my being mistaken for a demigod makes life even marginally easier upon the people of London, and reduces the crime that plagues this city, then I believe it is worthwhile even with the risks it poses."

It's rather sad to hear him say such a thing - because it implies, as far as Iris can see, that Barok continues to be at peace with the idea of being hated and feared by most, and ultimately risking being killed at the hands of brutes who don't know the truth.

Not to mention, it means he has no choice but to continually watch his back; and he can't even relax during this outing, which should be a fun affair - "It sounds all together too sad as far as I'm concerned... wouldn't it be better to be 'Barok van Zieks' and... my uncle?"

It's the first time she's actually called him that since she learned the truth, and it's a tentative attempt to see how he responds.

". . . ." at first he's not sure what to say, because it would be much better to be part of a family - of course it would. He smiles, slightly, "... Your uncle, hm? For such a long time I thought I had nothing left in terms of family, and now I'm blessed with an intelligent young niece thanks to my older brother... yes, Iris, I do want to be your uncle and support you in whatever way I can, but, I also intend to continue to fulfill my duty to the public at large as a Crown Prosecutor. Even if I weren't known as the Reaper of the Bailey, my work would still attract hostility as it did for my brother."

He has no delusions about how vile the criminals of London are and the lengths they'll go to in order to continue their enterprises. Strong law enforcement and effective legal procedures make their lives harder, so they would always target anyone in such office -- as they had Klint, and him in a bid to get to his older brother; this had always been a part of his life, ever since he was young.

"So, pray, forgive me if I continue to look over my shoulder..." he'll then turn the conversation to lighter things, like the animals at the zoo, and ask her which is her favourite while picking her up so she can pet a curious giraffe.

By the time the day is over, Iris is fast asleep and Barok dutifully carries her home and tucks her into her bed. Of course he bought her a stuffed toy from the shop at the zoo, and she's cuddling it tightly as she dreams. It's... a heartwarming sight, one that brings a genuine smile to his lips.

"I say," Sholmes will say as Barok closes Iris' bedroom door over, "Who'd have thought the Reaper of the Old Bailey was also the Pied Piper? She seems utterly charmed by you, sir."

"Clearly she's been wanting for intelligent company," Barok will remark pointedly, provoking Sholmes to laugh and heartily agree-- but, he can't quite permit himself to be so cold, "Thank you," he says, quietly, "For taking good care of her. She's becoming a splendid young woman."

Sholmes will simply smile and offer a small bow. No words are needed, after all Iris is a special young lady who has saved them both in different ways.

[halloweenhoneylover]

serendipity

summary: spencer cannot wait to propose, but you accidentally beat him to it (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5k

warnings: some language! some minor angst!

author’s note: this is 100% based on one of my favorite episodes of new girl (google doc name is winston bishop type shit), also this is mega self-indulgent so if u don’t like dinosaurs and/or ferns i’m sorry :/

You let out a satisfied hum. Everything was quite nearly perfect. Presently, you were sitting on a bench next to the little duck pond in the park by your apartment, and you watched as tendrils of the weeping willow grazed the surface, sending gentle ripples across the water. It seemed to glow in the dappled sunlight. An adorable duck family was nestled into some of the reeds, and your heart was happy as you watched the mother tending to her ducklings. This was your favorite spot in the entire city.

“Hey, Spence?” Your head rested on his shoulder as he read one of the Ray Bradbury novels that he loved dearly. You weren’t sure which one he was on now; he’d been determined to read his entire collection this weekend and had been flying through.

“Yes, dear?” His eyes didn’t leave the pages, but you didn’t mind.

“What do you call a group of ducks?”

“There’s a couple names actually. It can be called a raft, team, or paddling; it’s a matter of preference.” Finally, he shifted his gaze toward you, and he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The flush of your cheeks and the wisps of your hair, he was so incredibly enamored, he loved you so much. And he was so excited to let you know so soon, but not quite yet.

“I think I like paddling.”

“Yeah, me too.” Shutting his eyes to revel in this moment, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you wanna get married?”

What.

Spencer floundered in the absolute contradiction of feelings that he found himself submerged in in that moment. Ice flooded his veins, and his face heated. His blood pressure skyrocketed, and oh God, it’s not supposed to happen like this. Yes, he loves her terribly, and yes, he absolutely wants to marry her, but he had a plan! An incredibly intricate and thoughtful twenty-two step plan that was going to take place over the course of the next month. It was all laid out in an entire binder in his desk. All he could muster in response was an extremely eloquent, “Uh—well, uh—”

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you finally lifted your head to look at him with the biggest heart eyes he’s ever seen, and he can’t help but feel so, so guilty. “I just thought, why not, you know? Spencer, I love you a whole lot, and I’m pretty sure you love me a whole lot too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want the rest of my life to start right now.” 

“No.”

Judging by the look on your face, that was clearly not the answer you were expecting. “No?”

“Uh, yeah, no.” God, stupid dumb idiot, telling the girl you want to marry that you don’t want to marry her. What’s the point of having 187 IQ points if you use exactly none of them when it actually matters?

“No, you don’t want to marry me?” Your heart dropped into your stomach and was falling further and further every passing second.

“Wait no, hold on—” 

“No, I get it,” you choked out, hastily standing up from the bench. “Actually, I don’t get it, but that doesn’t really matter, I guess.” You jammed your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, so you could get out of this moment as soon as humanly possible. Holy shit, had you been blind-sided. “Um, I think I’m gonna go hang out with Penelope, might spend the night, I’m not sure. Enjoy your book.” And with that, you were speeding down the path out of the park.

“Wait, (Y/N/N)!” Spencer tried to gather his belongings to run after you, but you had a head start, and he couldn’t gather all of the books in his arms fast enough. Leave the books!!! Go after her!!! But you had already turned the corner and were out of sight.

With his books finally secure, Spencer sprinted in the direction of your shared apartment. He needed to fix this. And fast.

———

Morgan sat at his desk peacefully looking over the plans for a house he was renovating when the phone rang, and he couldn't help but internally groan at the sound. If Hotch is calling on his weekend off, so help him God, he would hang up and chuck the phone out the window.

Instead, he was met with Garcia’s voice, which was so loud he had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, mama. Let’s take it down a few notches.”

“Alright, fine, babycakes,” she hissed, and Derek was shocked at the unfamiliar venom in her tone. “Would you please be so kind as to explain to me why your dear friend Reid is the most evil, most reprehensible, most despicable—”

“Garcia, what are you talking about?”

“You mean that little rat boy hasn’t come crawling to you explaining his crimes?”

Despite his infinite patience for her antics, he sighed quietly. “I’m in the dark, baby girl, but I’m sure whatever Reid did, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it can be that bad! He told (Y/N) that he didn’t want to marry her.”

“He did what?” Derek’s eyes were practically popping out of his head at the news. There’s no way that happened.

“He said that he didn’t want to marry our precious lily flower (Y/N)! I love that boy, but now, (Y/N) is here bawling her eyes out on my couch, and I don’t know what to do!”

His heart broke a little at the thought of his friend being so devastated, but he couldn’t help the roaring confusion that plagued him. Derek knew that Spencer was planning to propose to you; he’d seen the binder. He’d even been recruited to help with Steps 4, 9, 10, and 18! 

Oh.

And that’s when Derek had a sneaking suspicion as to what had occurred. “Penelope, were his exact words ‘I don’t want to marry—” But his attention was drawn away from the phone by a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil….

“Garcia, I gotta go, but tell (Y/N) everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna have a word with our boy.”

“Oh my God, is he there with you?! That little bastard—” He hung up before her words could become any sharper, and the knocking became frantic.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” He jogged to go unlock the door. “You’re gonna knock the door down, kid.”

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, huffing and puffing with a red face and a binder in arm. “Morgan, I am the stupidest man to ever walk the Earth.”

“Did you run here?”

Ignoring the question, he pushed past him with an agitated step. “I am a complete idiot, a dumbass, if you will.”

Morgan shut the door and crossed his arms, walking to stand opposite Reid who had sat on the couch with his head in his hands. “Yeah, I might agree with you on that one. Garcia called me, told me (Y/N) is crying on her couch ‘cause you told her you didn’t want to marry her, which I know is not true.”

“I didn’t say that!” he cried, gesticulating wildly. “Not exactly. She asked me if I wanted to get married—”

“And what did you say?”

His hesitation was palpable. “...No.”

“Yeah, I’d say that constitutes dumbass behavior, especially because I know you only said that because you have your proposal all planned out, and you want it to be perfect.”

“Morgan, you don’t get it,” he implored, the desperation evident in his eyes, and Derek finally started feeling a little bad for the kid, an inkling of sympathy squirming in his gut. “No one deserves the most perfect proposal more than (Y/N). No one. You know how she’s always felt unwanted, and she’s told me that she felt like she always has to ask for love, and I couldn’t let her feel like that with me. I had to make sure that she had a special proposal because she’s special. And I want her to know without having to ask that I want her more than anything else in this world.”

Reid looked down at the toes of his scuffed Converse, hoping that he hadn’t permanently fucked up his best chance at happiness, and Morgan’s expression softened. “I know, kid. And I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, but you do know that this was not the best way of letting her know that she’s wanted and loved?”

“Yes, I know, Morgan,” he muttered, voice breaking around the slug in his throat. “I wasn’t thinking.”

A sigh. “No, you weren’t. But I’m gonna help you fix it.”

Reid looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”

“You both deserve to be happy...even if you make some pretty stupid choices sometimes.” 

Reid didn’t think he’d ever felt so grateful for his friend, and he offered a smile in gratitude. “Thanks. But I don’t even know where to start.”

Quirking an eyebrow and returning with a grin, Morgan picked up the binder from the table where it had been set. “I’ve got a couple ideas.”

——— 

“How is she doing?”

“Erm, it’s not looking great,” Garcia responded.

She was openly hostile when Reid had called her (he’d never been on the receiving end of Garcia’s wrath (so few people had been), and he was sure that was something he never wanted to experience again), but she’d finally restrained herself and offered a little empathy (not a lot though, she was too loyal to (Y/N) for that) when he had explained himself. However, when she’d been informed of the plan to apologize, regain your love and trust and to maybe, just maybe, ask for your hand in marriage, she had wholeheartedly avowed her support and pledged her help despite still being a little miffed at boy genius’ idiocy.

“She’s been sitting on the floor of the bathroom for an hour listening to Landslide on repeat and crying, so I would say she’s, um…not well.”

Spencer winced at that, and he felt physically sick at the thought that you were hurting because of him. His heart clenched unbearably, and he wished so badly that he could take back his words and just say yes, but unfortunately for him, time is linear, and he was just going to have to do his best to fix things.

“I just need a couple more hours to get everything ready.”

“Well, hurry up, pretty boy! I love our girl immensely, but if I have to hear Stevie Nicks mourn the passage of time and love one more time, I will lose my mind.”

“Garcia, please, just be patient.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky I love you.” And with that, she hung up.

——— 

You huffed a sigh, clutching to your chest a shiny pink pillow covered in sequins and giving Garcia the biggest puppy eyes you could muster. “Please, Penny, let’s not go out to dinner. Let’s just stay in and order Cheesecake Factory; you love Cheesecake Factory!”

“You’re right I do, but I love you more, and right now, you need to get up and get some fresh air!” The almost excessive amount of peppiness in her voice and her refusal of Cheesecake Factory was slightly suspicious, but you didn’t really have time to consider it as she dragged you up off the couch and to the door.

“Okay, counterpoint: what if you went out for dinner, and I stayed in and wallowed in self-pity?”

By the look on her face, you knew your evading tactics were not going to fly. She tutted slightly and said, “You’ve got to know I can’t let you do that. I’m legally obligated to stay with you until you feel better, that’s the deal when you’re friends with me.” She grabbed your coat, holding it open for you. 

Reluctantly, you sighed and slid your arms in, grumbling, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, but let’s get a move on!” And with that, she herded you out the door.

——— 

It was a nice dinner, the two of you out on the town, and for a while, you were granted the solace of distraction. Garcia took you into the city, and somehow it felt a little easier to breathe there under the streetlights amidst a bustling Saturday night crowd. You nestled together in some street corner diner, ordering an absurd amount of food and jabbering on about anything and everything. If she noticed the moments when you fell silent, eyes distant and glassy, (and she definitely did), she never said anything; she just offered a new topic and redirected you from the very sad place that was thoughts of Spencer. And you would latch on eagerly, seizing the opportunity to forget.

So, you spent the evening with late night waffles and french fries and milkshakes and the unending source of cheer that was Penelope Garcia, and by the end of it, your mind didn’t immediately redirect to that morning’s tragedy, which Garcia would define as a success. Together, you found your way back to her car, and you tumbled into the passenger seat, your eyelids immediately fluttering shut. Penelope grinned and drove off.

When you woke again, you were engulfed in bewilderment and not just the regular post-nap disorientation. “Penny, why are we at the National Mall? This is the opposite direction of your house.”

She tapped her acrylics on the steering wheel and nervously surveyed the street in front of her, trying to escape your prying gaze. “Uh—no reason!”

Too exhausted from your day of grief and distraction to be suspicious of her terrible lying, you leaned your head back against the seat, watching the glow of the streetlamps as they roved over the interior of the car.

Garcia seized this movement to set the next part of Reid’s plan in motion. “Hey! You know, what’d be fun is if we went to the Natural History museum! There’s nothing better to cheer you up than dusty old dinosaur bones.” (She didn’t necessarily understand the appeal, but she was trying her best.)

A small chuckle escaped you. “As much as I’d love that, it closed at nine, so we wouldn’t even be able to get in anyway.”

Garcia’s mind thundered furiously as she tried to come up with some way to get you in that freaking building. “Let’s just walk past! Take a peek through the windows, see what we can see!”

Something in you sensed that she wasn’t going to let this go, so you relented as she finagled some sort of street parking that was definitely illegal. You could barely get your seatbelt off before she was dragging you the stone steps, the massive corinthian columns looming. You squeaked a quick Penelope! and tried to keep up. Entirely ready to give up and head back to the car when she tried the door, your mouth fell open in shock when it gave way with ease. 

“Oh, look! It’s open! Let’s go inside.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond before she was ducking in the building, and you followed, completely and utterly baffled. Stumbling into the atrium, you were met by a receptionist at the desk. She smiled warmly, “Miss (Y/L/N), I presume?”

You nodded slowly before turning to Garcia whose devious smirk was undeniable. “Penny, what is going on?”

She grabbed your hands and looked at you with tears in her eyes. (Where the hell did those come from?) “Just remember that you’re a very forgiving person, and that sometimes the smartest of us can also be the most stupid.”

Furrowing your brows at that slightly cryptic message, you went to respond when the receptionist stood and said, “If you would, miss, please follow me.”

And so you walked with this stranger through the empty halls, the click of her heels echoing. It was odd to see a space that was normally flushed with people completely empty, and you studied the walls as you walked. “Um, may I ask what’s going on?”

The receptionist grinned, “I’m sorry, but I’m under strict instructions from Dr. Reid to not reveal anything.”

Strict instructions from Dr. Reid. You gasped a little at that, and your thoughts raged with possibilities of what Spencer could possibly have planned. If this was an elaborate attempt at an apology, you were a little overwhelmed; the little dispute this morning absolutely did not necessitate a response of this degree. Sure, you were disappointed, and you needed time to deal with it away from him, but you weren’t mad at him, not really. You had talked about marriage and knew that it was something you both wanted, but you had never discussed when. If he wasn’t ready to marry you quite yet, that was fine; you’d adjust. You were pretty sure you’d wait a whole lifetime for him. Besides, you had sprung it on him quite abruptly, and you knew Spencer and that he was not always well-equipped to deal with monumental change, and how could you blame him for that? You’d wait as long as he needed. 

“Here we are!”

Her words broke you from your thoughts, and you looked up to realize you were at the Hall of Fossils. (You had always been fond of the dinosaurs.) Glancing at the girl, you asked, “What do I do now?”

She laughed a little at that. “Just go inside. Take a look around.” And with that, she turned around, leaving you to wander the exhibit. 

So you ambled easily through the prehistoric relics and fossilized memories of a past Earth. It was rather haunting, the eerie silence and the illuminated dinosaur skeletons. You peered down at one of the explanatory plaques and instead found a blue post-it note. COLD. A grin wormed its way onto your face, and you jogged a little to the next plaque. GREENHOUSE GASES—WARMER. Spencer was always one for a game. So you zig-zagged through, collecting post-its. GLACIAL PERIOD—COLDER. CRETACEOUS WARMING. EOCENE KIND OF HOT! 

With the last note, you looked up and gasped yet again. Spencer was standing in a sea of different plants and flowers placed throughout the central clearing, and donning his signature tight-lipped smile and your favorite of his cardigans, he gave you a small wave. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Your response was breathless, and now that you had met his eyes, you couldn’t tear yours away. A weight lifted from your lungs, it was such a relief to see him, and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed him in the hours you spent apart until you could breathe properly again. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He chuckled at that, but the tension in his shoulders never released; he was clearly anxious, but for what reason, it was hard to say. 

An amusing gleam in his eye, he replied, “Same to you.” 

“How did you get into the museum after hours?”

He took the moment to examine the toes of his shoes, replying delicately, “I have friends in high places.”

“Ah, Dr. Reid, I always forget that you ruled the world of academia before your time fighting crime.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “Do you remember our first date?”

You gave him a tender smile, and his racing heartbeat eased ever so slightly, you just had that kind of effect on him. “Well,” you began, “I remember you were wearing that cardigan, the one that I love, and I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out—”

“I was definitely more nervous. I was so anxious I forgot who Carl Sagan was at one point.”

“I’d forgotten about that!” You giggled at the memory. “But I remember being in this room, and we were making stupid dinosaur puns, and I believe I told you that you are dino-mite….”

He nodded meekly with a subdued grin. “I think that was the moment I fell in love with you.” Meeting his eyes once again, you felt the wind knocked out of you. The utter honesty you found radiating from his soft golden irises hurt your heart, and it was impossible to not believe him. He fell in love on the first date, how sweet and lovely and perfectly Spencer is that?

You took a breath and began to walk closer, skimming a hand over the lush greenery around you. “You know, the last time I was here, I didn’t remember there being so much flora.” 

As if he had forgotten the miniature forest that surrounded him, he surveyed the plants surrounding him. There was a sea of succulents and ferns and honeysuckle and peonies and almost every other plant under the sun. “Yes, they’re a new addition. And if I recall correctly, it seems that lots of your favorites have made an appearance.”

“It does appear that way.”

He reached out to gently lift one strand of a nearby fern. “I believe you’ve mentioned before that you would ‘take a fern over a flower any day of the week.’”

“That would explain why they seem to be taking over the windowsills of our apartment.”

“True. Did you know that in the Victorian floriography, the fern represented sincerity and humility? So maybe if somebody had made a stupid mistake and they were trying to let someone know that they were really sorry, they might give a fern to say that they know they were being an idiot and they felt really bad for what they did.”

You laughed airily, “No, I was not aware of that fact.”

He closed the gap between you, reaching to tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear. He simultaneously managed to pull a small bouquet of purple-ish flowers from thin air, causing more laughter to bubble from you. The laughing is a good sign, he thought, grinning. Keep going! “To really drive the point home, they might also give some columbine which represents foolishness.”

You looked up at him, your expression bright. “Oh man, this guy feels really bad.”

“Yeah,” he agreed before his words took a more somber cadence. “Yeah, he does.”

Your face softened. “Spence—” 

“Um, before you say anything else, (Y/N), I just need to let you know how sorry I am for this morning. I love you so, so much, and I never want you to doubt that, and—”

“Spencer, slow down. Really, it’s okay! I’m not mad.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not angry with me, but it’s not okay because you still deserve an apology. A good apology. So,” he took a deep breath, “I am so very sorry for my actions and for letting you think for even a second that you’re not the most important thing in my life, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I want to marry you when you asked because I do. I really, really do.”

Something warm and elated simmered in your stomach, and you beamed at him. “I’m glad because I wanna marry you too.” But before you could get too caught up in the moment, you remembered your earlier thoughts. “I don’t want to push you in any way, though, or make you commit to anything before you’re ready because marriage is kind of a big deal, and I’m happy to wait. Spencer Reid, I’d wait for you forever.”

“I don’t want to wait.” He shook his head and began digging in his pocket. 

Your eyes widened in shock and spluttered, “Spence, seriously, if you’re not ready—”

“I am ready.” Finally, he found it and pulled out a small velvet box, looking you dead in the eye. “(Y/N/N), I have been planning this for so long because I wanted it to be perfect for you. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and I wanted to give that to you.”

His admission gave you pause. “Wait, you’ve had this planned?”

“I’ve been planning this for months! This isn’t me trying to fumble around and fix my mistake. I have a binder and everything, you can ask Derek. That’s the only reason I said no!”

“You said no because you had a binder for your proposal plan?” you teased.

You both broke out into laughter at that.

Recovering his breath and trying to suppress his ever-growing grin, he said, “No, that’s not why. The only reason I said no earlier is because I needed to show you how much I wanted to say yes. You deserve the best, you deserve every star in the sky and every beautiful thing on this earth, and I wanted to make sure I gave that to you when we decided to spend the rest of our lives together because I want to be enough for you.” Trying to swallow around the slug in his throat, he continued, voice breaking slightly. “This is me giving you all the love I have to offer. You’re it for me, (Y/N). And frankly, I don’t want to spend another second without you.”

He settled on one knee and opened the box, looking up at you with the gentlest gaze and a pounding heart. The wetness of your eyes matched his, and you gave him a watery smile. “I’m saying yes now. I would really, really like to marry you, (Y/N/N), if you’ll still have me.”

“Of course, you absolute dork.” Yanking him up from the ground and grinning like a madman, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for the messiest kiss. He clutched your waist and held you as close as he could possibly manage. (His desire to never be parted seemed to be coming to fruition in the sort of melding of bodies that was occurring.) Clashing teeth and knocking noses, it was hard to settle things when neither of you could stop beaming. Overwhelmed by the complete and utter joy bubbling up in his chest, Spencer hugged you tightly before spinning you in a circle, both of you devolving into boisterous giggles. 

“Wait,” he murmured. “I forgot to give you the ring, I still need to seal the deal!” To which, you responded with another peal of laughter (something he thought he would never tire of hearing), as his trembling fingers floundered for the ring.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, but I’ll take it either way.”

He finally secured, and taking your hand in his ever so gently tenderly, he slid a glimmering emerald on your finger. 

“Oh, Spencer, it’s beautiful.” He let out a sigh of relief. With light confusion, you asked, “What’s the sigh for, handsome?”

“I know you wanted a special ring, but when I went ring shopping with Derek, there was nothing I thought you’d like, so I special-ordered one from this shop that was going to be your size and everything, but that ring wasn’t going to be ready for a couple weeks. So today, when I knew I had to propose tonight, I ran to that vintage store you love and came across this one, and I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure it was gonna fit, and—”

“I love it,” you looked at him, trying to will him to understand the depth of your sincerity. “And it fits perfectly!”

“How serendipitous.” He thought his face was going to split in half, he was smiling so wide. He couldn’t stop looking at the ring on your finger. How could one silly little rock make tears well in his eyes? Nonetheless, the sight of it made his heart race and his stomach churn with unrepentant butterflies because looking at it, he knew the girl he loved more than anything else on the planet, his favorite person had chosen to spend the rest of her life listening to his rambles and laughing at his jokes and sitting next to him by the pond in the park. The listless dream that had seemed so hopeless and romantic finally came to fruition in that shiny green stone, so no, he would not stop staring. 

“Indeed,” you mused, subtle and irresistible risibility fizzing in the silence that followed. You contemplated for a moment before asking, “What do we do now?”

A thoughtful frown graced his lips, and then he shrugged. “We have the museum until midnight. We could just wander for a bit.”

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and you tugged on his sleeve, your excitement palpable. “I’ve always wanted to be in a museum when no one’s around at night! Oh my god, Spencer, it’s just like Night at the Museum!”

He quirked a brow, and a sly smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean I have to protect you when the dinosaur skeletons come to life?”

You scoffed, “Please, we both know that I’d be the one protecting you.”

Another devolution into giggling. It seemed to be your thing tonight.

“Fair enough.” 

“Also, do we get to keep all of these plants?” His eyes remained glued to your flushed face as you peered around the room. He wasn’t ashamed to admit just how besotted he was, shamelessly beaming at his fiancée. 

“I bought them for you, so yeah.”

“Sick! Our apartment’s gonna turn into a little greenhouse!”

He extended a crooked arm to you, to which you looped yours in his and proceeded to set off on your museum adventure. You learned your head on his shoulder as you walked, completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you very much.”

“I love you too, dear.”

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[ravennm84]

Lyre Festival Fraud

This was another prompt that I found and just ran with it. The prompt itself was based on the Fyre Festival Disaster that happened in 2017 where 5,000 people were scammed out of thousands of dollars per ticket for what was supposed to be a luxury music festival. I didn’t take the story to quite that scale since most middle schoolers don’t have that kind of cash. There will be a sequel to this coming out soon. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Over the past few weeks since Marinette had come back to class, she couldn’t help but notice that Lila seemed to be up to something new. For one, the Italian girl hadn’t been bothering her as much as before. There was still the occasional quip and barb thrown in her direction, but nothing compared to what she had been doing before. She wanted to write it off to the deal Adrien had made with the girl, the blonde had confessed the truth to her after the photoshoot and promised her that he would never let things get that out of hand ever again. But something just didn’t seem right.

Lila was sticking to a single story about a party that she was planning on an island south of Venice over the long weekend next month. She was going on and on about it being a private island, with beautiful scenery and a rich history. Her mother was setting it up for a bunch of politicians, and all of the celebrities Lila knew were coming. A five-star chef would be there to make everyone the most amazing food. Many of the musicians she knew were planning to do jam-sessions, so there would be live music. The way she described it, it was going to be the biggest private event that Lila had ever been involved with.

Marinette and Adrien kept keen ears pointed in her direction, more than they normally would. Something about this particular story seemed different from her usual lies. It didn’t sit well with either of them

They could admit, the Italian was smoother with this lie than she was with any other she had spouted since joining their class. She had started mentioning the party a little here and there, then the different celebrities, then the hotel and bringing in the chef. How expensive it all was and how her mother was planning everything. Then, the following week, Lila dropped a bomb that had almost the entire class squealing and scrambling.

“You won’t believe it! Mama said that I could invite all my friends to come to the party so I’ll have more people my age to talk to!” Lila gushed as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Seriously! That’s awesome, girl!” Alya cheered excitedly.

“But I have to be up front with all of you about something, and I want you to know that if I had my way I would never ask, but my mom insisted.” Lila’s expression quickly turned uncertain as she looked around at her ‘friends’ before taking a breath and continuing. “Whoever wants to come, has to take care of their own travel and pay €300 up front for the food and accommodations. I really wish I didn’t have to say that, but there was nothing I could do to change her mind.”

“That’s completely understandable, dudette.” Nino grinned as she slung his arm around Alya’s shoulders. “But still, for two nights in a swanky hotel and all our meals handled, that’s a total steal. When would you need the money?”

Lila’s face lit up again saying that she would need the money at least a week before the party so her mother could book enough rooms and make sure there would be enough food. Mylene asked if they needed their parents to escort them, and Lila promised to get them the needed forms to travel. She also asked Alya not to post anything about this on her blog, as this was supposed to be a private thing with a lot of big-name people and they couldn’t risk word getting out. The journalist readily agreed but made Lila promise that she would be allowed to post pictures after the weekend was over, which Lila readily agreed.

Marinette and Adrien looked on with worry as their classmates began making plans for the weekend in a few weeks. After class let out for the day, Adrien convinced his body guard that he needed to study with Marinette for an upcoming test. Since the man liked the girl, her parents, and had a soft spot for their bakery’s salted caramel scones; he allowed it. Up in her room, the two teens set their homework aside and jumped on Marinette’s computer to see what was going on with the Italian. 

“What do you think she’s up to?” Adrien asked her.

“Not sure, but it’s strange that she kept saying how I shouldn’t ask for money when I do commissions, then turns around and asks for €300 per person.” She says, looking up private islands near Venice. “I mean, she has to know that she can’t just ask for money from everyone and then not follow through since she would have to give all of their money back.”

“Agreed, she could try and say that the money was non-refundable, but I don’t think they would accept that.”

She hummed in agreement before pulling up a map. “The only private island I can find close by is Isola Santa Christina, but that’s North-East of Venice, not South. And I checked the availability for that weekend, and it’s not reserved. The only island South of Venice that could be considered ‘private’ is Poveglia.”

The blonde’s brow shot up when he heard the name. “Isn’t that the haunted island that’s been closed off to tourists for a long time?”

“Since the 1960s, when the mental asylum closed.” She nodded, as she continued to read. “And before that, it was where they sent people dying of plague and other diseases to die and be buried. It says right here, there’s over 160,000 people buried there in ‘plague pits’ and it’s nearly impossible to walk five meters without walking over someone’s remains.”

Adrien’s lip curled in disgust as he read the information and history of the island over the French-Asian girl’s shoulder. “Well, she did say that the island was private, historic and had a view. And the island does have a lot of history and it’s private.”

“And there was a plan to turn the old asylum into a luxury hotel a few years back, but that fell through.”

They continued reading the different articles on different islands around Venice, but none of them seemed to fit. Adrien agreed that Lila wouldn’t be so sloppy with her lies to invite everyone to a weekend party and then have to give everyone their money back… but what if she never had to see anyone again?

“Do you mind if I look something up really quick?”

“Did you think of something?” She asked while standing from her desk chair so he could take a look.

“It’s just a hunch,” he muttered, his fingers quickly typing at the keys. “I think you’re right, Lila wouldn’t ask for money if she was just going to have to turn around and give it back, even if she used the ‘deposit’ excuse to keep part of it for herself. That can only mean that something else is going on.”

It took a few minutes, but he found what he was looking for on the Italian Embassy’s website and twitter page. Different people wishing Ambassador Rossi a fond goodbye before she transfers back to Italy before the holiday weekend. “She’s not coming back,” he said between gritted teeth while Marinette looked over his shoulder.

“I want to say that I can’t believe Lila would do something like this, but she purposely got me expelled, almost got me akumatized, and almost caused another Scarlet Moth incident. Stealing from people she won’t see again is well within the boundaries of what she can do.”

Adrien turned the chair to look Marinette in the eyes. “What should we do? We tried the high road, that was a mistake and I’m still kicking myself for saying that, but we can’t just sit back and let all of them get scammed for €300.”

“It will be more than that,” worry evident in her voice. “It will be the €300, whatever they have to spend on their tickets there and back, and whatever money they’ll spend on someplace to stay while they’re there, if they stay in Venice.”

“We have to try,” Adrien said, just as determined when he forced Lila to lie to get Marinette back into school. “Maybe if we talk to everyone, one person at a time and explain what we found, we might be able to convince them to look into things a little deeper and figure it out themselves.”

Marinette hesitated. “They didn’t believe me before, why would they believe me now?”

“Because I’ll be with you every step of the way to show them that it’s not just you, I promise.”

~oOo~

Adrien kept his promise, he stayed with Marinette as they pulled their classmates aside to show them what they found. Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose and Chloe seemed to really listen to them and agreed that it seemed a little too good to be true. The others were more hesitant to listen and turned their questions to Lila, who was quick to spin her lies about the comments on Twitter being taken out of context, that her mother’s coworkers were only saying goodbye for the weekend. Then she turned on the fake tears and accused them of spreading rumors and lies when she was just trying to do something nice for her friends. That resulted in the majority of the class shunning Marinette and Adrien for the weeks leading up to the holiday. 

Nearly the entire class gave Lila €300 each before the deadline she had set. Adrien and Marinette had been ‘uninvited’ to the party; Chloe scoffed and said that she wasn’t about to waste her time with a bunch of people she didn’t even like; and Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose all claimed that they couldn’t afford it. Lila was leaving school a couple days before the weekend to “help her mom prepare for the party” but gave everyone instructions on which dock to meet at for the boat to pick them up and ferry them to the island. 

Friday morning, the two of them tried again, practically pleading with their friends not to go, that it had all been a scam. This was met with a lot of harsh words, insults, and Alya declaring that she could no longer be friends with someone as vindictive and jealous as Marinette. That left the girl in tears, but the four that stayed behind were quick to comfort her and took her back to her house after school for a movie night. After the others left, Marinette sent a quick email, hoping for a positive response.

The movie night was followed by a jam-session on Saturday at Juleka and Luka’s place. It was a blast to have Adrien on the keyboard with Kitty Section again, it was a little difficult without a drummer but it was still fun. When Marinette got home, she was relieved to see a response to her email waiting for her and read it before she went to bed.

They had a picnic in the park on Sunday, along with Marc, where Adrien was having a photoshoot so he could sit and eat with them during his breaks. The photographer liked the natural energy and look of the group so much that he took multiple pictures of the three couples, as Vincent put it. There was another email waiting for her when she got home, she read that one twice and rewrote her response three times before sending it.

On Monday, the six of them hung out at the bakery with Tom showing Marinette’s friends how to make the perfect croissant and the best way to pipe frosting onto cupcakes. They had a blast and ended up having a frosting fight at one point, which ended with a large round of giggles and Adrien striking a victory pose since he had gotten hit with the least amount of frosting. Everyone had a great time and went home with the goodies they’d made. The final response in Marinette’s email put a smile on her face, knowing that she had done the right thing.

~oOo~

Tuesday morning and the five of them weren’t sure what to expect. They had decided to go with a united front and met at the Dupain-Cheng bakery so they would go to school together. Sabine gladly handed all of them fresh pastries before they left and wished them luck. Marinette’s parents had been made aware of Lila’s deceit and how she had likely scammed their classmates out of a lot of money. Hearing this, the two bakers had been making multiple calls to the Board of Governors about their daughter’s expulsion and other incidents that Adrien had brought up that had to do with Lila. From what they had heard, it was likely that their school, M. Damocles, and Mme. Bustier would be under heavy scrutiny very soon.

Entering the classroom, none of them were prepared for the dead silence from the rest of the class. Everyone looked to be experiencing different levels of confusion, anger, and absolute exhaustion. Everyone except Chloe, who looked smug as she grinned at everyone in the room. When the five of them came in, her smile grew as she looked directly at Alya. “So, how was your weekend on that private island in Venice? Was it as fabulous as Lie~la said it would be?”

Mylene, Sabrina, and Kim all started crying; Nino ducked his head to hide behind his hat, Max's head dropped to the desk with a thunk, and Alya’s fists clenched so hard that her nails cut into her palms. But it was Alex that had the most colorful reaction as she slammed her hands on the table and practically screamed.

“Shut up, you blonde shrew! Grrr! I swear, if I ever see that liar again, I will hit her over her head with my skates until she apologizes.” Her eyes turned to Marinette and Adrien, still angry but with a bit of self-loathing. “You were right. We all waited on that dock all day until the police came and took us to the station. We had to spend the night in the police station and wait for our parents to come get us. Alya tried to argue that it was just a private party and even pointed out the island that bitch said it would be on. But no~, that island was closed to the public and has been for 50 years!”

“We tried to tell you,” Adrien said hesitantly when Alix stopped ranting to breathe.

“Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents so mad,” Nino said, barely lifting his head to look at his friend. “They’re talking to a lawyer about what they can do, but the law dude said that the most they can do is file charges against Lila for the scam and that none of use are likely to get any of the money back.”

“My parents grounded me until the lawsuit is settled or I pay back all the money they spent on coming to get me,” Ivan told them, his large shoulders drooping almost half-way down his back.

“By my calculations, that is unlikely to happen,” Max said, not even bothering to lift his face from his desk. “When taking into account the amount of money that she took from each of us, that she had us go to Venice of our own accord, the fact that her mother is an ambassador and therefore bestowed Lila with diplomatic immunity for her actions; there is not much the law can do.”

Unable to help herself, Marinette turned to look at Adrien as a small smile graced her lips. Adrien gave her a bigger smile that confused everyone, even Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka. “You should tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Alya asked, not sure if she could deal with any more surprises for the rest of the school year.

“Well, after Adrien and I figured out what Lila was up to, we recorded one of the times she bragged about the trip and how much money she was getting from you. I emailed the video, your names, the dock where she told you to go, and all the other information to Ambassador Rossi on Friday night to let her know what was going on.” 

All of their jaws dropped as Marinette continued to speak. “I don’t think she believed me at first; but then she got a report about a bunch of unaccompanied minors from her daughter’s school being detained in Venice and that she had apparently allowed them into the country. She was shocked and confused that any of you got through customs without an adult, but then Ambassador Rossi noticed a stack of documents were missing and figured Lila must have taken them and forged her signature to make the scam more believable. I talked to her again last night; she’s forcing Lila to plead guilty to fraud and forgery, any charges that the Italian government was going to file against you are being dropped, and she's clearing out Lila’s savings to pay the money back to your parents.”

Now the entire class was crying tears of joy and relief. They knew that they’d messed up when it came to Marinette and Adrien, Alya especially towards her best friend. But they were more than willing to work their butts off to make it right, no matter how rough the road ahead of them might be. 

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part Three)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: war-typical violence, a (literally) dashing nightmare magpie prince, potty words, angst maybe?, a few ocs but don’t get too attached bbs, a very sad attempt at witty dialogue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If you weren’t convinced that Dike was moments from getting himself, you,  and the rest of Easy killed, you would’ve sworn that you were going to kill him yourself.

At least if you shot him, it meant that someone who actually knew what they were doing could take his place, and that meant that something like this would never happen again.

There may not be an Easy Company left to save, in a few seconds….

You, Christenson, and a few replacements had found cover behind the shell of a truck, a few yards up the field from the hay bale you knew Dike to be hiding behind. 

“What in the fuck is happening over there?” Christenson shouted, the replacements trying their best to hold cover while the two of you desperately tried to figure out a way to get somewhere more tactical to alleviate the fire currently being hailed upon all of you like some biblical plague.

“Dike’s being a pussy!” one of the replacements replied before a bullet dinged him in the helmet and he cursed pitchily. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything—?”

You could hear shouting from the hay bale, so you knew your friends over there were still alive and trying to do something.

If we stay here, we’ll die before we can even try to do something helpful.

“What’s CP doing?” you shout to the replacement on your left, grabbing his vest and pulling him down out of the line of fire. “Use you binoculars—!”

With (understandably) fumbling  hands, the young man brings the apparatus to his face and scans the tree line, cursing aloud each moment that passes and he can’t see them.

Anxious energy has you so keyed up your body is trembling, but you know that if you rush him it’ll just stress him out and make it worse.

“Good job,” you say, even though both you and he know that he hasn’t really accomplished anything yet. “I’ve got you covered, just let me know whenever—”

“Got em.”

Both you and Chistenson share a look of minute relief. So far, this was the first thing about this godforsaken day that had gone right.

At least the lot of you hadn’t been left to die.

“What do you see, Nelson?” the other replacement, Grante with an ‘E’, called as he reloaded his gun. “Does it look like they’re on the radio—?”

“Winters is coming—no, wait!”

You spot a runner for the Germans from your peripheral, and without hesitation you take aim and subdue them. 

Six months ago I would’ve shot to wound….what would my family say if they saw me now?

They’d have to talk to you first, and you weren’t sure if that would ever happen again.

“Oh, shit…..it’s your boyfriend—”

“What?!”  

You squint stupidly in the direction of the trees, seeing nothing but suddenly terrified at the prospect of having to watch Nix or Bull or Grant (or whoever else these dicks you worked with decided you were sleeping with) get killed in their stupid attempt at bravery.

Unless he means….

You watch someone burst through the smoke of a target-missing mortar blast, charging like some avenging God of War towards the hay bale shrouding Dike, Lip, Luz, and however many more of your friends were trapped behind before disappearing.

Ron Speirs, you goddamned psychopath.

“Fuck.” you bit out, turning to Christenson and getting his attention. “Any sign of I Company?”

The four of you initially had been part of a bigger group, and your aim had been to hook up along the outer fringes with some of I Company and create a perimeter from which the Nazi soldiers would be unable to escape or send for reinforcements. 

Christenson nodded. “They look like they’re waiting on us—”

“Yeah, well tell ‘em to get in line!” Grante barked unhelpfully, his voice cracking and reminding you just how young he was. “We’re waiting on us, too!”

You hear a shout of your last name, and when you look back to the hay bale you see that Ron and Lipton are waving to get your attention.

When you meet Ron’s eyes you see the fire of battle raging inside of him, and you can’t help but feel relief that Dike was no longer in charge of your fate.

Using hand signals that had been drilled into your head ever since Georgia you tell him and Lip that five of your party are down, but you have eyes on I Company and just need the okay to hook up with them.

You watched as the two men spoke to eachother, and when they turned away from you you imagined they were relaying what you’d said to Luz so he could let Sink know your intentions.

After a few moments, Speirs tells you with quick and precise motions that you are good to go— he has cover fire arranged for your group so you can dash the final 200 yards into the building you knew housed I Company.

You shoot him a thumbs up before turning to Christenson and nodding excitedly.

“Ready, kids?” you ask, and when they voice their readiness you make a dash for it, leaving the shell of protection the car provided behind and running as quickly as you could towards the bombed out farmhouse, the sound of heavy breathing letting you know that at least Christenson was right behind you.

You don’t look back, can’t look back- all that mattered right now was forward and careful and shouting “flash FLASH FLASH!”

The call of THUNDER preceded you and Christenson all but throwing yourselves through the doorway and into the arms of the five I Company men you’d arranged to meet.

“Fuck, where’ve you been?!” one of them is shouting in your face, and you glare at them qyuickly before looking to where a blood-speckled Nelson is gasping for breath in the doorway. Grante was nowhere to be seen, and one look from Nelson told you that the younger man hadn’t made it.

“The salon, getting my hair permed.” you deadpan to the rifleman, finding the CO and shaking his hand.

“Where do you want us?”

He nods and waves Christenson and Nelson over. “Just this way, ma’am….”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Ho-ly shit.”

You look up at the I Company CO (Parker, you remember quickly)  parts of a jammed machine gun between your legs as you desperately attempt to fix Nelson’s weapon.

“What?” you ask, fingers moving faster than your mind can keep up with as you quickly dislodge the shrapnel from the chamber of the gun and begin putting the thing back together on reflex.

You had been holding the line for the past hour, and for that hour the same question had been on everyone’s mind. “Tanks? Did we miss a runner—?”

Where the fuck is the rest of Easy? They should’ve been here by now to check in….

When the gun is reassembled, you shove it into the replacement’s hand and move to see what has Parker so excited, hoping beyond hope that you’d see the faces of your friends rushing to meet you.

To your horror, you only saw one face, and it happened to be the face of the man who made a point to be the one who woke you up each morning with a full canteen and the promise of breakfast.

Of course it’s going to be someone important to me, my…..whatever it is he is to me.

 “Where’s everybody?” Christenson shouted, an unfazed Ron breezing past him to quickly grab the ammo and sling it over his shoulder.

Ron goes straight to the CO and starts talking to him in harsh tones under his breath, yet his eyes still search the room until they find yours.

He’s okay, he’s safe and he’s here now. It’s okay.

You give him a nod before moving on to the next jammed weapon that had been shoved into your hands wordlessly by Christenson after he takes one of the German ones from a body next to him.

Fucking Dike. He’d have us fighting with slingshots and pebbles if it meant he got to stay warm at the CP. Half of us didn’t even have weapons until Bill and Babe started repossessing the Army’s shit. If we survive this, I’m going to kill Dike, I swear to God….

You fix the gun, glad it was only a minor fix that was needed this time. When you look back to Ron, he’s tightening his helmet on his head and looking back the way he had just come.

Goddamnit. Of course he’s running back into danger. He’s Ron fucking Speirs.

You shake yourself from your stupor and quickly rush over to him as he picks up the last of his things and prepares to go.

When he looks up at you, you shove the rifle you’d taken off the corpse of a German you’d come across on your last scouting mission into his hands and take his standard issued one away.

“Take this one,” you say breathlessly, as if you were the one who had been running. “It holds more rounds and shoots cleaner.”

He nods, eyes wild with adrenaline as he scans you over for any sign of injury.

“You good?” he asks, and you nod and try to shrug casually.

It’s hard, you are also nearly vibrating with adrenaline and nervous energy.

“I’d ask you the same, but clearly you’ve got a death wish, so—”

Before you can finish chastising him, his rough hands come up to grip your face and he smashes his lips to yours in a rough kiss that’s nearly bruising in its force.

Oh...OH. Oh shit!

You inhale sharply through your nose, head tilting back as he steps into you and puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezed.

You gape at him stupidly when he pulls back and feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in surprise at his boldness.

You hadn’t been kissed since long before Georgia, hadn’t wanted to be kissed or coddled or shown too much affection because in your relatively short life, you’d come to know unreserved compassion as a weakness. 

“Love is nice but it isn’t reliable. Life isn’t a fairytale, sweetheart— everything has a price.

Nothing can hurt you if you don’t let it matter in the first place….”

Well, Mom— I’m doing my best, but I just don’t know if you’re right about this one, not this time….

Ron smirks down at you with such a self-satisfied look you smack him lightly on the chest on reflex rather than due to any actual upset.

“Yell at me later.” he offers when you open your mouth to speak, and with one more quick, breath-stealing kiss he’s gone again, running into enemy fire far too casually for your liking.

When you turn to watch him go you catch Christenson staring at you, a similar expression of shock on his face.

Ok, so I didn’t dream that, that actually happened.

You have to literally shake your head in order to get through the surprise, and when you do a weird pit of anger forms in your stomach.

That fucker better live, because he can’t just do that and run off.

You square your shoulders and grab the newly repaired gun at your feet, going to the hole in the wall and shooting at anything that looks as if it may mean Ron Speirs any harm.

He rolls over a stone fence, and you can’t help but shake your head.

He’s fucking with my plans, that son of a bitch. 

“So, uh….that was—”

“Shut up, Christenson. Just…. shut up.”

You hear the hitch of a chuckle from his direction. 

“Bull will be happy—”

“Shut. The fuck. Up! Keep shooting, you damn fucking child….!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ask him how far away their backup is.”

You nod to Dick, dutifully repeating the question to the bruised and bloodied german soldier who sat before a group of you after his comrade had identified him as his superior officer.

You listen to the mumbled reply and nod. “About three hours by foot, an hour if you cut through fields.”

“Ask him for a number. How many miles? How many villages?”

You press him for specifics, but he just spits bloodily at Dick’s feet before calling him something you couldn’t fully translate (but assumed was insulting).

“I’ll take it that’s a no on getting specifics.” Nix smirked, stepping to the soldier and grabbing him bodily by the arm. “I think battalion’s gonna love you—”

You squeeze your eyes shut as Lewis leads the captured man to a truck where the others are waiting to be transported back to wherever they’d set up HQ, pinching at the pressure point at the top of the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to ease some of the pain of your stress headache.

“Headache?” Winters asks, and you instantly lower your hand and straighten up.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

He chuckles at that, giving you a knowing look. “I think you and I both know you could lose a limb and still insist that you’re fit for duty.”

You scoff a laugh. “I suppose it would depend on which limb…. and what duty, Sir.”

He looks at you with all the exhaustion of a first time father, and you laugh in earnest.

“Go see someone if it gets too bad.”

“Sir.” you nod.

You smile as you watch him walk away, catching up with Nixon and falling into step with the man easily.

How I got accused of screwing Nixon and Winters hasn’t, I’ll never understand….

Turning to look back at the war-torn downtown, you catch Grant’s eye and he waves you over.

By the time you get to him, you find that he isn’t alone.

Leaning against the wall beside your friend is Ron Speirs, looking far too at ease for someone who you had spotted running through enemy tanks not an hour before.

“Heard you had an exciting day!”

You freeze, eyes widening as you feel yourself blushing again. 

Shit. SHIT!

“Oh, I….um—”

“I was telling him about the car you hid behind,” Ron supplied mercifully, and you feel relief so instantly that you have to brace a hand against the side of the building in order to catch yourself.

“Oh, yes! That exciting part of my day.”

Chuck looks at you strangely for a moment, bringing a hand to your forehead and holding it there.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, smacking at it again when he tries to repeat the action. “Charles—”

“Grant, Tab!” 

The three of you turn towards the direction of Malarkey’s voice, the man jerking his thumb back to one of the trucks.

“Got some stuff for you that just got here…”

Giving you one last look, he points his finger in your face like he’s scolding a child.

“This interrogation isn’t over, young lady—”

“Don’t you mean conversation?” Ron asks, smoke from his cigarette floating around his face like fog over a lake.

You nod your head in Ron’s direction in a sign of agreement, and Chuck moves his arm so he’s now pointing at Ron.

��Y/n and I are far past social pleasantries, and I would never insult her by lying...”

You roll your eyes and gesture in the direction Grant had been called from.

“Don’t keep Mother waiting, you know how she gets.”

You watch Grant jog over and away from sight. Ron’s fingers deftly pull your braid out from beneath your collar and smooths it down, following the length of your spine in such a way that no one else would’ve been able to see should they look over suspiciously.

“If you didn’t look like you’d just committed a crime,” he says matter-of-factly. “He probably would’ve just given you a pat on the back and moved on.”

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, the closeness of his face reminding you of how he’d held you when you thought you were dying all those months ago.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling very shy around him.

He hums, lips quirking up in a quick smile. “Well, my ‘suicidal death wish’ didn’t pan out as well as I’d hoped, so I’ll live—”

Something in your face made him stop, and with gentle hands he takes your shoulders and turns you to face him completely. You let him walk the two of you back behind the building a bit before stepping in to you again.

Like he had before, in the farmhouse after he kissed me….

You flush at the memory, and you may as well have said what was on your mind because he whispers your name in the way he does when he knows you’re overthinking things(or at least starting to).

Meeting his softened gaze, bite the inside of your cheek before speaking.

“I’m mad at you.” you say, hating the lack of conviction in your voice.

He nods, expression one of consideration as his hands come up to hold your face.

“I know.”

“Because what you did was really stupid—”

“I know—”

“And then you pull a move like that, hey” you cut yourself off when he smirks again, a chuckle in his throat when you glare at him. “Don’t you dare look so damn proud of yourself, I’m yelling at you—”

“Which move would you be referring to?” he goads, and you frown in order to hide the grin that threatens to break across your face. You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back against the side of the building.

“Oh my God.” you scoff out. “Are you teasing me right now? Ronald Speirs, you’re unbelievable”

He smiles down at you, and you let yourself smile back at him and nervously bring one of your hands up to cover his as it slides down to cup the side of your neck. 

Your smile slips as your eyes unintentionally flicker down to his lips again, remembering how they felt against your own.

Shooting a quick look to either side, you slowly raise onto your toes and give him a quick, shy peck. You can feel him grin for a split second before he kisses you deeply and far more thoroughly than you’ve ever been kissed before.

You sigh into the kiss, eyes drifting closed as you wrap your arms around his torso and fist the material of his jacket in your hands.

When you break for air you rest your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you mumble, and for a moment you think he may not have caught what you said.

“If you think I’m going to let something as stupid as a bullet or a mortar stop me from coming back to you,” His lips are at your temple, and when you pull back to look at him follows you and gives you another smug grin. “you’ve got another thing coming.”

As you open your mouth to reply, the both of you hear Nixon calling your name, loudly asking people if they’ve seen you and which way you’d gone.

You both sigh, and smile at each other at the unintentional synchronization of the action.

“I think your boyfriend is looking for you.” He pulls playfully on your braid when you roll your eyes at him and gently push him away.

“I think I liked you better when you were just quiet and broody and handsome—”

Ron smiles wickedly at that, and you groan when you realized what you’d just said.

“Don’t let it get to your head-”

“Too late.” 

Ducking another quick kiss to your lips, he steps back just in time as Nixon rounds the corner, his words forgone in favor of eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

“What were you—”

“What’s up Lew?” you interrupt, trying your best to not look...what had Ron compared it to? 

Looking like you’d committed a crime….

Giving Ron a scrutinizing once over, Nix looked back to you and raised a brow.

“Dick’s wondering if you can show him how to switch one of the Kraut scopes to a rifle…”

“Sure!” you said, far too brightly. You had a feeling if you looked back at Ron he’d be smirking in unabashed amusement at your awkwardness. “Lead the way…”

With a frown and a suspicious hmph, Nix turned and began to walk in the direction from which he’d come.

You follow dutifully, giving Ron a quick smile over your shoulder as you hurried to catch up with Lewis.

Ron looked beyond pleased with himself, shooting you a quick wink before bringing another cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

“Care to explain that?” Nix asks under his breath once you catch up to him, taking your arm in his like the two of you were at some cotillion.

You smirk to yourself, rolling your lips together to hide the action.

“Nothing to explain, Nixy. Everything’s perfect….”

And for the first time in your life, you truly meant it.

OOF HERE WE ARE AGAIN! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR READING THE RAMBLINGS I THROW IN YOUR DIRECTION AND SORRY IF IT SUCKS

TAGLIST: @itswormtrain, @mrseasycompany​, @softspeirs​

[judediangelo75]

Claws To Wings

Welcome one and all~

I did say I was going to be working on the Talith lore, so here’s another installment of that. So I did some tweaking to the storyline that Jam City had. So the first Valentine’s Day happened in 4th year instead of 5th (because you can unlock I think both Valentine’s Day TLSQs in the same year and it didn’t make too much sense to me). 

Plus there are future true events that happen in 6th year, if you’re already familiar with the Without You/The Man Behind the Necklace series than you already know. During that time, Judith and Talbott are together and have been for quite some time. But before that, they have been pining after each other for years. 

In my first story, “The Scent of Love to the Heart of a Loner Poet”, Talbott is coming to realizing how deep his feelings were for Judith (whose been crushing on him since 3rd year). Between then and now, those feelings have grown and they’ve been dancing around each other. 

There’s gonna be some details here that are definitely gonna be new (because it’s part of a super old character reference I created for her when I first started posting about HPHM content here).

Anyway, enough rambling. On with the story! Enjoy! 💛

MC friend: David Willows ( @that-scouse-wizard )

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

Talbott stood before his mirror, readjusting his tie for probably the fifth time.

He was trying to soothe his nerves. Why you may ask?

Because of the Ball.

The Valentine’s Day Ball.

In his right mind, he would avoid such social gatherings like the plague. But it’s fair to say he hasn’t been much of his right mind ever since he met her.

Judith Harris.

A Hufflepuff witch with pale gold eyes and a heart of gold to match.

He met her alongside her best friend, David Willows, early third year. When they came to him seeking help on becoming Animagi. He was quick to shut both of them down. While David glared and protested, Judith eased the bullheaded Hufflepuff and gave him a shy sad expression along with an apology for disturbing him.

At the time, he wasn’t sure why he suddenly changed his mind to help the two. But as he got older, he did realize it was because of her.

Something about Judith was familiar. And…

He didn’t like the sad look into those bright eyes…

After the two achieved their forms and helped him find his feather necklace, Judith and Talbott became closer. Even to the point where he followed her out to the cemetery and learned about her dead father, Kendrick, on the anniversary of his death.

That’s when he learned that she was a part of his past. 

That single day of his childhood where he made a friend. And developed a bond on a girl who he thought was unique with her long pretty locs and Caribbean accent.

With it being their 5th year, Talbott has gone on two dates with her. Their very first date out by the Black Lake and last year on Valentine’s Day when he learned that he has deeper feelings for her outside of a friendship.

He can still remember the sweet blush on her face after he shyly gave her a kiss on the cheek after gifting her with a heart statue.

Giving her a physical representation of his heart.

He fiddled with the ring she gifted him that day. He always remembers seeing it on a black chain around her neck on occasion. Judith was a person who cares about sentimental value so it’s very likely she gifted him something that has a level importance to her. But he was so stunned when she slipped it onto his finger, and that it fitted perfectly, while announcing that it was her Valentine’s Day gift to him that he forgot to ask…

Maybe today he will. After all, after the Ball, he had a special surprise for her.

Of course, there had to be some last minute changes when he realized a certain Slytherin witch ALSO planned on using the Library and two fairies also got into a squabble. He had at least a day to make the arrangement work and the “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts” actually might of done him a favor.

It would be nice to revisit where their tale began.

Talbott sighed, looking over his appearance once more before turning on his heel and leaving his room.

‘I hope she likes what I planned. She’s the only who deserves to see this side of me,’ he thought as he made his way to the Great Hall.

——————

“C’mon Little Tigress! We’re gonna be late,” David huffed, knocking insistently on his best mate’s door.

“I look ridiculous! I’m not going anymore!” Came the stubborn reply from the other side. David rolled his eyes at Judith’s behavior.

They’ve been busting their asses to save the Valentine’s Day Ball from a lonely Madam Pince by using a pining Mr. Filch. However, due to all the planning and finally asking out Merula and Talbott (after Judith finally got over her initial shyness), they didn’t have time to style an outfit for themselves. So they went to the resident Style Wizard for help. 

David’s pick was easy.

Judith however… not so much.

It was fair to say that Judith was more than disgruntled as she looked in the reflection for the suit Andre put together.

“You lost your damn mind Egwu if you think I’m going to the Ball like this. I look like a mom in her mid-30s looking to speak to your manager to file a complaint.”

David was on the floor in tears when he saw the offended look on the Ravenclaw wizard’s face. To be fair, the suit plus the pixie cut that Andre magically put together wasn’t doing his best mate any favors.

However, she didn’t step out to show the dress to them. She tried it on, switch back into her normal clothes, and left without much of another word.

Now David was curious to what could be wrong with Andre’s design for her to believe she looked “ridiculous”.

“C’mon Judith. What’s wrong with it? Surely it can’t be as bad as that suit Andre design,” David coaxed.

“…It’s… a lot…” David wasn’t sure what to make of that and they’re gonna be late if Judith kept this up.

“Judith, it’s either you open the door willingly to show me what you’re talking about or I break into your room to see for myself. We don’t have time for this right now,” David huffed. He didn’t want to late with for his dance with Merula.

Silence ensued and David was half considering going through with his threat when the tell tale sound of the door unlocking hit his eyes. David turned the knob and walked in.

He paused when he took in the sight of his little friend.

Judith was wearing a short black dress decorated with pink and red roses. A small slit can be found on her right leg. White 3-inch open toe heels were on her feet. Her usual ear accessories and earrings were present. A familiar dark red lipstick, dark eyeshadow, and black eyeliner made an appearance on her face. Her hair was out from its normal twists, curls and coils tumbling down her back and a bang swept over her right eye.

“David,” Judith mumbled awkwardly as her friend stared at her. That seemed to have broke the spell on the wizard as he shook his head to recollect himself.

“Well I’ll be damned… you look far from ridiculous, Judith. You look beautiful,” David said with a smile. Judith blushed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You sure? It’s kind of revealing, don’t you think,” she asked. David cocked his head to the side, rescanning the girl from head to toe.

He could see her point, but it wasn’t as bad she probably thought it was.

The dress fitted her like glove, revealing the curves she was developing as a young woman. While the dress did show quite a bit of skin, it was still respectable.

“No, not really. To Bill and Orion, possibly but they’re big brothers who naturally want to keep every perverted wizard away from you. Hell, I may end up breaking someone’s teeth in if they think they can disrespect you like that. But you look beautiful Little Tigress, don’t think otherwise. Talbott would definitely agree with me,” David stated, watching his fellow Hufflepuff blushed at the name of the boy she’s been crushing on since third year.

David has been watching the two dance around each other since Judith admitted that she fancied the Ravenclaw wizard in the Charms classroom when practicing the Memory Charm. He was waiting for the two to finally get together already.

“If you’re done worrying, we still have a Ball to get to,” David said with a raised brow.

“But-EEP!” David already saw the protest in her eyes was quick to walk across the room and throw Judith over his shoulder. He only resorted to such measures when she was be difficult, and she was definitely being difficult.

“C’mon Little Tigress, your bird boy is waiting for you,” he said as he made his way out of her room. Judith spluttered over her words, mainly out of embarrassment at both what he said and the unnecessary position David has put her in.

“DAVID! Put me down, you brute! I’m in a dress for Merlin’s sake,” she protested loudly, wriggling in David’s unforgiving grip.

‘Damn demon lineage...’ she thought with a grimace.

“I'm well aware, we can clean you up when we're there with a spell, I not missing my chance to dance with Merula,” David said breezily. Judith gave up, allowing herself to be carried off like a sack of potatoes.

“Bloody sap... stupid dance,” she grumbled under her breath. David chuckled at her disgruntled mood.

“You’ll thank me for it by the end of the night, trust me,” he said. Judith pouted.

‘Assuming I don’t hide in a dark corner somewhere first...’

“Do that and I'm casting Lumos Maxima so there's nowhere for you to hide,” David said suddenly, nearly scaring the girl half to death. Judith mentally slapped her forehead out of exasperation. 

She should know better not to think aloud around David, seeing how they’re both Legilmens.

Damn it...

“Fine,” she huffed. Luckily for her, they finally arrived near the entrance of the Great Hall. David finally set her down, and casting a spell that made her look presentable again.

David offered his arm to her.

“Shall we, Little Tigress?” Judith felt her cheeks heating up at the thought of the person waiting on her inside the Great Hall before letting out a sigh. She took her best mate’s arm.

“I guess we shall...”

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

Talbott was chatting alongside with Merula, twirling a red rose between his hands when he heard a whistle. Both turned to make out the figures of their dates not too far from them.

David separated himself from his fellow Hufflepuff to walk up to the two. David gave Talbott a smirk and nodded over in Judith’s direction before stealing Merula away.

Talbott only raised a brow at the Hufflepuff wizard’s behavior before walking up to his date for the night. As he stood in front of her, any words that he was going to say to her, died at the tip of his tongue.

Talbott stared at his date, heart racing with a blush on the high points of his cheekbones as he looked at her from her curls to her high heeled shoes. The silence was starting to unnerve the Hufflepuff witch as her long time love interest stared at her without saying anything.

“Y-you clean up quite nicely, Talbott,” she blurted. She mentally smack herself immediately afterwards.

‘When did I become this awkward, goodness…’

However, seem to have done the trick and snapped Talbott back to reality.

“S-sorry, little bird. I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-It’s just that…” Talbott shook his head, trying to focus.

“It’s just that,” Judith echoed slowly, biting her bottom lip. She was worried that David might’ve been wrong and she looked like a fool in front of the boy she had feelings for.

Talbott stepped closer to her, tilting her head up by her chin so she could look at him. He offered a shy smile.

“You look beautiful, Judith. More lovely and temperate than a summer’s day,” He said softly, placing the rose he had behind her left ear. Judith blushed as she felt her heart race at his barely there touch.

“I-I… thank you, Talbott…” The Ravenclaw wizard smiled at the shy response. Behind them the instruments started seemed to be warming up to play the first song.

“May I have this dance,” Talbott asked, mock bowing to the girl. Judith giggled behind a red manicured hand.

“You may…” Taking her hand Talbott led Judith close to the center of the dance floor, with David and Merula standing not too far from them. The fairies that were lighting up the room swirled around the students, leaving them in awe at the magical moment. In the midst of this, David gave his friend a wink, who in turned returned it with an unimpressed glare. Judith returned her attention back to her date once she felt him take one of her hands

“I’m not usually one who likes public displays, but… I quite like this one… almost as much as I like you,” Talbott quietly admitted as he looked into pale gold eyes.

‘Is it possibly to pass out from blushing so much? Because I think I’m close…’ Judith thought as she ducked her head with a smile. Talbott was being so sweet and kind to her, she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms and dance the night away.

Judith looked back up at him with a teasing grin.

“I hope you like dancing too, because it’s our time to shine…”

————————

Talbott was smiling at the laughing girl in his arms as he spun her around. The two have been in their own little bubble ever since the dance started.

Their shy exteriors melted away leaving behind something much warmer and intimate. Anyone with eyes can see that they were clearly smitten with each other. Which were plenty watching them on occasion.

Red eyes darted around the Great Hall, finding the person he was looking for. He gave the Headmaster a subtle nod which he returned with a knowing smile. Talbott stepped back from Judith to clear his throat with a smile.

“All this dancing is making me thirsty, I think I’m gonna get a refreshment,” he said. Judith smiled at him, making his heart stutter in a lovestruck sigh.

“A refreshment sounds great, actually! I’ll go with you-” 

“N-no need! I-I’ll get one for you! Just...  stay right there,” Talbott stuttered before taking off. Judith’s brows furrowed in confused as she watch Talbott disappear in the darkness.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw the cheery smile of David.

“Cheers, Little Tigress! I see that I was right about you enjoying yourself,” he said with a grin. Judith glared and punched his arm.

“Cheeky bastard,” she growled. David laughed good naturedly while rubbing his arm.

“I’m surprised you’re not with Synde. Seeing how eager you were to get here and be with her,” she retorted. David shrugged.

“Mer said she going to get refreshments for the both of us. She actually suggest I go find you to see how your night was so far,” David replied. Gold eyes narrow out of suspicion.

“That’s a little odd. Talbott just let to do the same thing...”

“Was it? I found it very typical  of Miss Synde and Mr. Winger,” a third voice said. David and Judith turned to see the amused face of their Headmaster.

The pair chatted with Professor Dumbledore for a while when Judith noticed something was amiss.

“It’s bit awhile since Merula and Talbott went to get refreshments. Surely it can’t take that long,” Judith pondered out loud. Dumbledore smiled.

“Clever eye, Miss Harris. That’s because they’re no longer here and they personally asked me to distract you,” he chuckled. David and Judith glanced at each other before looking back up at Dumbledore.

“Professor,” David asked warily. Dumbledore chuckled.

“Mr. Willows, you can head to the library. Miss Harris... while Mr. Winger wasn’t explicit with the location for you to go to, he did say ‘Remember our first date’ as a clue. Enjoy the rest of your storybook fairytale night, you two. You deserve it,” Professor Dumbledore informed the pair with a knowing smile. 

Judith blushed walking out of the Great Hall with David. The two said their goodbyes as Judith made her way outside. Transforming into her Black Sparrowhawk, she couldn’t help but wonder what Talbott had planned at the Black Lake...

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

Judith landed on the shore and transformed back, only to be surprised to find who was waiting for her.

“Lily,” she asked as the little fairy flew around her, buzzing out of excitement. 

What was her little friend doing all the way out here?

The magical creature took ahold of her hand, tugging her to the Boat house. 

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Just slow down, I am wearing heels after all,” she laughed gently. Judith followed the excited fairy inside only to freeze at the door way.

Standing inside was Talbott. The place looked to have been cleaned out. Numerous fairies including her own lit up the Boathouse in a soft glow. Rose petals scattered the floor, along with some candles. A large heart made up of different colored roses was hung up behind the Ravenclaw wizard. A small table with some chairs of some of the food and drinks form the Ball sat in a corner. Somewhere in the background, there was soft music playing as well.

Talbott walked up to the stunned Hufflepuff witch and took her hand.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, little bird,” he spoke softly. Judith shook her head out of disbelief. 

“W-what is all this, Talbott,” she asked. The young man bit his lip.

“I-I... I may have been planning this while I was at the Owlery... I wanted to surprise you. While I did originally plan to do this in the Library, someone else had the same idea... So I’d figured the Black Lake was the next best thing. I did have some help putting this together,” Talbott admitted.

Lily buzzed, as if she was giggling at the two. Judith rose a brow at her Fairy’s cheeky behavior before chuckling.

“I just thought that... after everything you’ve done for Hogwarts, for me, you deserved a storybook romance,” Talbott said. Judith rescanned the room before offering a smile.

“I had no idea that you could be such a romantic, Talbott. But clearly you are.” Talbott blushed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess all that poetry paid off...”

--------

The pair sat and ate, chatting in between. Talbott giving going as far to feed Judith a bit of a cupcake. He ended blushing when he felt her lips touch his fingers tips as she let out a pleased moan. 

Currently they were slow dancing in the middle of the room, listening to the music softly playing in the background.

“This is really amazing, Talbott,” Judith spoke up, daring to look up at red eyes that reminded her of rubies.

“You’re the amazing one, Judith. I was simply following my heart,” Talbott replied, squeezing her closer. That foreign yet familiar scent that clung onto the Hufflepuff filled his nose.

“O-Oh stop it. I am not,” Judith insisted with a nervous laugh. Having Talbott so close to her was causing her heart to beat faster than normal. Talbott stopped dancing in favor of holding her hands. His gaze was unwavering.

“I mean it, little bird. You made this Valentine’s Day  perfect for everyone, even Flich and Pince... And especially for me,” Talbott confessed. Pearly whites flashed at him.

“All I wanted was a magical Valentine’s Day with my date,” Judith started, glancing down for a quick moment to gather herself before looking back up at Talbott through her lashes.

“...And... And I’m so happy that date is you...” And she was. Truly. 

Talbott was the picture perfect gentleman. And the fact he went through great lengths to make Valentine’s Day memorable for her reminded her of happier times from her childhood. Except now it was with someone who likes her for her. 

She hasn’t felt this special in years...

Talbott urged his heart to calm down as he reached for his wand.

“I feel the same way, Judith. And I... made something for you...” Stepping back, Talbott casted a spell, causing a book to appear. Judith blinked out of surprise at the book that hovered between them. Carefully reaching for it, she opened it to a random page somewhere in the beginning.

“...The loner poet listened to the Howler professed the words he wasn’t aware that lived in his heart. Speaking of a deep longing for a girl with otherworldly pale gold eyes. To never leave him because when he looks into her unique irises, he can see future. A future where he would wake up to them every morning. A future where he would look at child with the same eyes as her. A future that would lead to forever together.

He felt his heart stall in his chest, itching to cast a spell to light the Howler ablaze to prevent its words being heard by unwanted ears. It was then he smelled her before he heard her.

A hint of sea breeze that made him feel like he was standing so close the never-ending ocean. Chocolate that reminded him of her skin tone. A variety of fainter sweet scents, most he couldn’t name but the one he could pick out was honey.

Her melodious low voice sung to his eardrums:

“Hey, what did your Valentine Howler say?” He swiftly turned to find pale gold eyes curiously looking up at him. He could feel his heart speed up when he connected the dots.

It was her.

She was the one his heart longed for.

Everything that has transpired that day and this revelation became too much for the loner poet to take. He was quick to deny that his Howler hasn’t said anything, using the opportunity their teacher has created to leave the classroom. 

He needed time. Time to think of what to do next...”

Judith was so engrossed in words written on the page that she didn’t realize that Talbott was now standing behind her.

“It’s not finished, more so of a... work in progress for an ongoing story...” Judith jumped a little when she felt his breath ghost over her visible ear.

“This is about you,” she whispered, releasing the book to float again. She turned to find Talbott staring down at her with half lid eyes.

“It’s about you and me, little bird,” he whispered, cupping one of her cheeks. Judith closed her eyes, leaning into his warm touch. 

There was a shift in the air and she nervous but secretly excited to where this could lead...

Talbott withdrew for a moment forcing Judith to open her eyes again. She notice a heart shaped key necklace in his hand.

“What’s that,” she asked quietly.

“This is the key that unlocks the book. I made it be this way so you can wear it like a necklace. So our story would always be with you,” Talbott answered, carefully placing the it around her neck. A full body shiver raked Judith’s body when she felt the tips of his finger ghost over the sensitive skin.

“I... I never had someone put this much effort for me. To bare your feelings like this, Talbott... I... I don’t know what to say,” Judith confessed quietly. She could barely hear her own voice over the roar of blood rushing to her face combined with the sound of her heartbeat pounding against her eardrums.

Talbott caressed her cheek again.

“I don’t expect an answer from you right away little bird. I’m more than happy to do this for you. You’re the only one who deserves to see this side of me...” Talbott leaned closer aiming to place a kiss on her cheek. Much like he did last year.

What Judith did next surprised both of them. 

Turning her head ever so slightly, she caught Talbott’s lips with her own. This stunned the pair, both remaining motionlessly for a few moments. Just as the Ravenclaw wizard was about to pull back, Judith held him there by his tie, pressing against him. Her painted lips moved against his unresponsive ones slowly, testing the waters and his resolve.

After a moment of deliberation, Talbott gave in and returned the unexpected kiss. With one hand cupping her face, its twin finding refuge on her lower back, pushing her closer still. Judith released his tie in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck, melting in his embrace. Both of them were placed under a cloudy haze as their lips continued to move against one another.

The pair broke apart for air, foreheads resting against one another. Talbott silently licked his lips, picking up the taste of vanilla.

‘She tastes just as sweet as she looks. Good Gods help me...’ came the helpless thought as he found himself at the end of Judith’s sultry stare. 

‘What are you doing to me, Talbott? Why do I feel this way towards you...’

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Talbott,” Judith whispered, placing a soft kiss against the corner of his lips. Talbott shivered at the sound of her voice, which has dipped down an octave. Her accent came out, loud and clear. His hands, which has migrated to her waist, squeezed down on the curve for a few seconds.

He could listen to her speak to him like this for hours...

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Judith... Thank you for being my valentine...” Judith let out soft chuckle, pulling him in for another kiss.

In the midst of this an involuntary thought passed through her mind. One which would shatter the Hufflepuff witch later on.

‘I love you, Talbott...’

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

Some time has passed since the Valentine’s Day Ball. Judith more or less went back to her life as per usual. 

With occasional outing with Talbott when classes and working for Rakepick became too much for her.

It was late at night and she was at the shore of the Black Lake, practicing her spellwork. She always wanted to remain sharp on her skills and it was a way for her to prepare for the upcoming O.W.L.S., which was approaching fast.

She decided to practice the Patronus Charm, seeing how she hasn’t casted it in awhile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

What came out of the tip of her wand shocked her.

Instead of her usual Siberian Tiger was a-

“G-Golden E-Eagle?!” Her eyes watched as the avian predator flew above her before disappearing. 

She shocked her head, not believing what she just saw.

Over and over again, she casted the spell, waiting to see her beloved tiger. Only to watch the animal that came out soar its wings above her.

Her legs gave out from beneath her. 

“No, no, no! How can this be happening?! Patronuses don’t change,” she panicked. A vague memory came resurfaced in her mind.

“Though I have heard of Patronuses changing forms after falling in love...” Judith’s eyes widen.

That voice belonged to Tonks when they were dealing with the Dementor threat from last year.

Another memory surfaced, however, much older...

“Gift this ring to the one your heart desires above all others. It will only fit and accept that one person, anyone else, it’ll reject and return to you...” Tears ran down her cheeks. When she realized what memory it was.

“Gran-Gran...” came the broken whisper. Her grandmother gifted her a magical blue and silver ring before she died. The same ring she gave to Talbott just a year prior. She didn’t remember her dear grandmother’s words when she gave it to him. 

Now that she thought about it, the ring never returned to her. And it was on Talbott’s left ring finger the night of the Ball.

Even as she kissed him, those three words that haunted her since childhood has crossed her flowery dazed mind.

She couldn’t do anything but face the truth. To speak the words that haunted her in form of a Boggart from third year.

“I love Talbott Winger...”

And she was secretly terrified.

Because she knew if he were to confess the same, she was done for.

Her heart would be his. 

And risk breaking if he were to ever leave...

[tiifalockhart]

Invisible Enemy

Anonymous asked: Hello, I want to request also a Prompto bc i love him 😍 like his insecurities kicking in and then his s/o will kiss them insecurities away, kissing his cute freckles and adoring his stretch marks (i have them too 🥺) just to get sunshine boi smile again, not too saucy, bye thank you *flies away*

Pairing: Prompto x Reader

Word Count: 2k

A/N: hello!! thank you so much for your request. I hope you enjoy it!! feedback is always appreciated

Ao3 || Masterlist

Prompto could brave anything...

After building up enough confidence to do so, of course. He could fight off giant snake women in the deepest caves in all of Duscae, and only feel a bit of anxiety after the fight. His adrenaline would be pumping to the max and he’d actually look forward to the next battle. He’d been frozen, burned, petrified, and even turned into a frog, and yet he still was able to put on this magnificent brave front. 

...That is until the enemy he’s fighting is himself. 

The greatest curse to him was his insecurities. He hated them so much. His intrusive thoughts would pop into his mind and ruin his joyous mood. They sucked away so much of his life... It was almost devastating. No one knew why Prompto would randomly go silent during conversations in the car, or why he would sometimes distance himself in camp. It was saddening, watching the light leave his eyes sometimes. 

It wasn’t the same when he was fighting an invisible enemy. He’d do anything to distract himself. He’d play random games on his phone, maybe go out and practice shooting, sometimes he would even offer to go exploring at night to take his mind away from the berating verbal abuse his mind gave him. 

He’d think about the insecurities he’s carried with him since he was a child. Was his weight okay? Did he look okay? Maybe the others were friends with him out of pity. Was he really funny or were the guys just laughing to make him feel better? Maybe he should go on a jog in the morning. These constant thoughts plagued his mind and caused him to unendingly doubt himself until he was swallowed up by his insecure and depressed nature. He wish he could fix it within a snap, he wished that he could just make them go away, but he couldn’t. 

When the two of you first met, you seemed so... Confident. He watched the way you walked without a qualm in the world, how you smiled brightly and laughed happily and took everything with a grain of salt. You seemed to love life... It was admirable. Prompto wanted to be like that desperately, to be happy and carefree, but he was sad and cared too much. 

As the two of you got closer, he tried to follow your lead but it never worked. Eventually, his thoughts would come back just as he began to feel better. It was a sick circle of doubt. 

You began to notice it when he became distant and quiet, how he would stare out the window of the car silently or how he’d laugh hollowly. You would grow concerned and ask him about it, but ultimately receive no answer from him. Usually, he’d brush it off, typically saying something along the lines of “Sorry, I’m just tired” or “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” You understood how hard it was to talk about feelings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be okay with those answers. 

It wasn’t until after the two of you began to date that he began to open up more about his insecurities. It would be random occurrences when he’d mention it. Sometimes it was at dinner, sometimes it was when the two of you were about to sleep, sometimes it was just out of the blue when you both were watching TV. He began to speak his mind more, which you appreciated greatly. It seemed to be healthy for him as well. 

That is until he completely broke down one day.

You’d never seen anything like it before, it was like he was a completely different person. He was so on edge and upset about seemingly nothing and refused to talk about it. He tried desperately to bottle it up and swallow it, anything so that he would stop his mind from racing. 

That night, you found him in your bed, curled up and crying. It was such a pitiful sight. You couldn’t find the right words to comfort him, you weren’t quite sure what was causing him so much pain. So, to attempt to comfort him, you simply laid next to him and hugged him. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked after several minutes passed. Prompto let out a shaky sigh as he slowly shook his head. 

“No... I don’t want to bother you with my issues.” He muttered, his voice rough. You gave him a sympathetic look before moving closer to him. After planting a very gentle kiss on his cheek, you cleaned away his tears with your hands. 

You sat up and carefully pulled him closer, holding him in your arms. “You won’t be bothering me. Tell me about it.” You whispered comfortingly, gently rubbing his arms and shoulders. 

He sighed and nodded somewhat reluctantly. “Sometimes... I feel like I’m not good enough, you know?” He murmured, tilting his head back to look up at you. “Like... I don’t look as good, I don’t fight as well, my personality isn’t that good. It scares me... Because sometimes I don’t know if those thoughts are true or not.”

You frowned at his confession, smiling weakly and leaning down. You placed a kiss on his most prominent freckle on his forehead. “I think you’re perfect.” You whispered, pressing another kiss on another freckle. “I also think you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.” You reassured, pressing another kiss to another freckle. “You don’t have to be sad, because you’re more magnificent than you think.” You whispered, beginning to press more kisses to his freckles. Your lips traveled from his face and down to his sun-kissed shoulders. You massaged his shoulders afterward, a small smile gracing your lips. 

He relaxed under your touch, his eyes slowly falling shut. “You think so?” He whispered, a little too dazed to respond properly. You let out a soft laugh as you nodded.

“I know so.” You answered, running your fingers through his hair. “I think you’re lovely.” You continued, shrugging lightly.

“Even for who I was?” He asked, a shaky breath leaving his lips. You raised a brow in confusion. Was he referring to his teenage years..? You sighed softly and shifted so that you were hugging him around his waist from the side. 

“Your past defines who you are... But that doesn’t necessarily involve looks.” You murmured, looking up at him. “Experiences make up who you are, looks inevitably don’t matter, especially after the change you went through.”

“But... How do I know that it doesn’t?” He responded, shaking his head and letting his head fall back onto the pillow. You looked up at him, a glint of concern evident in your eyes. 

“Well... Because when we met, I knew nothing about your past until you showed me.” You pointed out logically, shrugging. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of the stretch marks left on his stomach, causing him to shudder. “Have you heard Noctis, Ignis, or Gladiolus mention it? What about Cindy or Iris?” 

He hesitated and nodded slowly. “No... They’ve never said anything about it.” Prompto replied, his brows furrowing. 

“That’s right, because no one is worried about it... They’re more worried about being your friend and taking care of you and making you happy. They don’t care what you looked like, they just want to make sure you’re okay.” You explained as you trailed kisses along his stretch marks. He nodded hesitantly as if he silently understood. 

“Can we cuddle?” He asked randomly, which caused you to smile. 

“Only if I get to be big spoon.” You answered, moving up and wrapping your arms around him from behind. He sighed in relief, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch. 

“Thank you...” He sighed, before eventually drifting off to sleep. You admired his peaceful expression and simply held him. Hopefully this would have an impact on him... You hoped that he would be feeling better by the time you two woke up.

The next morning, you woke up to find yourself alone. A confused look formed on your features as you stared at the pillow in your arms. Quietly, you stood and wandered around the house in search of Prompto, until you came upon the kitchen. You raised a brow in confusion as you entered, noticing how Prompto was bent over the oven. “Prompto?” You called out, a confused look on your features.

“Oh-” He tried standing up, but ended up hitting his head on the counter. “Ow... Good morning.” He greeted, pulling out a pan of biscuits. “I decided to make breakfast, I feel really good after last night, you know? I was going to bring it to you in bed, but you ended up waking up. But it’s alright, we can just eat it here. Oh, what kind of jam do you like?” He rambled on, turning to take off the oven mitts and grab plates for the two of you. The confusion never left your features as you took a seat, watching him curiously. 

“How... How did you make that? I thought you were awful at cooking.” You began, eyeing the tray of biscuits. “And... I don’t have a preference of jam... Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He grinned and laughed, placing some biscuits on your plate and handing it to you, before taking a seat next to you. “I feel a lot better after last night. You helped a lot, you know? Hey, we should go see Noct today!” He explained, spreading jam on the biscuit in his hand before eating it. He seemed to be much more energetic today... Scatterbrained as well. 

“Oh... Sure, we can. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” You responded, smiling at his eagerness and beginning to eat. Maybe things were going to be okay for him after all. 

After your meal, the two of you got dressed and headed out, meeting up with Noctis, Ignis and Gladio. They seemed to notice the change of attitude for Prompto as well, which made you feel slightly relieved. He was energetic and talkative, and even brought out his camera often, which you missed in the past few weeks. It seems that he’s returned to normal. You were thankful for it.

[nikki-romero]

The Wild Flower (Tomoki Matsuba x OC) Chapter 1

I turned around to look at them. My eyes stopped on the man known as Tomoki Matsuba.

"Alright, I pick you, Tomoki Matsuba." Tomoki's expression was still and emotionless; he seemed like the most serious out of all of them.

"Very well," he answered. Still without a hint of life in his expression, he pressed a hand to his heart and bowed.

"Aw, too bad. You and I would have had fun together," Itsuki said.

"I have no use for a butler who isn't serious." I waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Geez, you're mean. I was just kidding."

"Itsuki." Tomoki rested his eyes on Itsuki. Although his expression didn't change, I could hear the warning in his voice.

"Tomo, come on. Don't look at me like that," Itsuki said, a carefree smile on his face.

"Looks like we're done. We'll be returning to the Ichijo residence. Tomoki, I'll leave the rest to you," Yuma said.

"Tomoki will be living in the apartment next door. He'll be taking care of you," Aoi added.

"I'm well aware of what a butler's job is, thanks. If you're done, please leave," I said coldly, turning my back on them once more.

"As you wish. You must be tired. Today was a busy day. You should get some rest," Aoi said.

"Good luck, Miss Ichinomiya," Yuma said with a smirk on his.

"Great, thanks. Don't come back, 'kay?"

"See ya," Itsuki smiled.

"... Goodbye," Kyo said.

I took my tea and walked to my room. I put the cup on my bedside table as I opened my closet to get some PJs.

"Miss Ichinomiya," Tomoki said.

"I tossed the pyjamas on the bed and stood on the threshold, my hand on the door.

"What." It didn't come out as a question.

"So, let's get started." Tomoki, somehow having hidden them up until now, showed me a fat pile of textbooks. "I need you to master what's written in these books over the course of this month."

I sighed. "Put them down on the coffee table. I'll take a look." I sat down on my knees on the carpet in front of the coffee table.

"A lady shouldn't..."

"Shut up," I cut him off. "This is my house. I will act as I please." I looked down at the covers of the books. "I've read this one... This one, too... I've read all of these." English conversation, etiquette, table manners, flower arrangement, dance, cooking... Each volume was thicker than a dictionary. And I've read every single one of them.

"You have?"

"You've never seen me at a party, have you? Of course you haven't. I avoided the Ichijos like the plague," I muttered. Tomoki raised an eyebrow at me. I sighed. "If you had seen me at a party, you'd know I already know all of this. I kind of have to? You know, as the vice president of the Ichinomiya Group? You do know about that, don't you?"

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Of course not. You're just one of a long line of people who believe I have the position for show. Because I'm some princess who has everything just fall into her lap." I rolled my eyes.

"What about these?" Tomoki piled on a bunch of additional volumes. I looked at the titles.

"I've read this one, this one, this one..." I picked them out one by one.

"Very well. But I will still need to test you personally to make sure."

I scoffed. "Do what you want." I waved dismissively, a sour look on my face.

"First, I'll test you in table manners from 8:00 to 8:59 pm. Etiquette will be from 9."

"Yes, fine, whatever."

"Also, from now on, please call me Mr Matsuba." This made me cock my eyebrow.

"Why?"

"With all due respect, you and I aren't buddies. I'm a butler who serves you. I'm not your family or your friend. I don't see any need for you to call me by my given name."

"Oh, okay. Shall I call you Tomo, then? Like your brother?"

He glared at me. "I just told you..."

"No? Okay, how about Mr Four Eyes?" His glare turned more severe. "Don't like that name either? Then quit your whining. I called my dad's butler by his first name, and he never said a word."

"You mean Mr Ichinomiya," Tomoki said. My head shot to him.

I glared. "I mean my dad. The one who raised me." I walked to him until there was no space between us. "I'll only say this once. Kazuma Ichijo means nothing to me." I took a step back. "So, Tomoki or some nickname. Which do you hate more? Take your pick." The smile I flashed him was as sickeningly sweet as my voice sounded. "Anything else?"

"So, next on the schedule, beginning at 10 pm is—"

I sighed. "Look, are you going to be much longer? You can test me tomorrow. I'd like to get some rest now."

"Very well. I will retire for the day. Oh, and one more thing. Here." Tomoki handed me a tablet with a calendar displayed on the screen. "This is your schedule, starting tomorrow. An alarm will go off when there's an event."

I begrudging snatched it from his hand.

"Goodbye." Tomoki left.

I checked the calendar. Every day was jam-packed with things I was supposedly going to do. I tossed it onto the sofa and went to my room, but I didn't sleep. I worked.

The following morning, I woke up early and got ready for school. It was almost strange how my routine hadn't changed, even though I just moved. But then again, I'd always had my own rigid schedule. After showering, eating a light breakfast and drinking my coffee, I started to head out when I heard a loud beeping sound. The light from the tablet I'd dumped on the sofa the previous night was flashing. No sooner did I stop the annoying alarm, my door opened and Tomoki walked in.

"Good morning. It's 7:52 and 40 seconds. Time for you to leave for school. Get ready immediately."

"I'm aware." I pushed past him when he called out to me.

"Wait. Here you are." When I turned around, Tomoki handed me a small bag.

"What is it?" I warily looked inside.

"Your lunch."

"Thanks..." Great. Now I feel bad for being bitchy.

"It's not a problem. I am your butler. Your lessons-"

"Sorry, can't talk. Gotta go, bye!" I made a show of rushing down the stairs.

I sat at my desk in homeroom with my chin in my hand, staring out the window.

"Good morning!" A cheerful voice said from nearby. Ayame was standing in front of my desk.

"Morning," I said grumpily.

She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out if something was wrong or if I was just being me. Before she could say anything else, the bell rang and she had to go to her own desk.

During lunch, Ayame and I sat on the roof to eat lunch. I opened the bento that Tomoki gave me. It was packed to the brim with food.

"Hey, where did you get that?" Ayame looked curiously at my lunch.

"My butler gave it to me," I answered.

"I thought Geo went with your dad?"

"I got a new one."

"You don't seem to be happy about it."

I shrugged. "I don't care either way." At least the food was good.

After school, I met up with Yukino at a café we frequented. I absentmindedly stirred the frappe in front of me, barely listening to what my best friend was saying.

"Hotaru. Hey, Hotaru!"

"Huh? What?" I was suddenly snapped out of my reverie.

"You've been giving me totally vague answers. Were you even listening?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Yukino. I just have a lot on my mind."

Yukino sighed. "You always do that." She frowned.

"Do what?" I knew she wasn't talking about me not listening to her.

"You bottle everything up until you're ready to explode from it. Or collapse." I took a sip of my frappe. "See? You haven't touched that drink, and now that I ask you what's wrong, you want to drink it."

I gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "I guess you're right..." I told her everything.

Yukino was silent for a few moments. "This is... I don't even know what to say."

I ran my hand through my hair. "I mean just what gives him the right to force himself into my life after all this time. And then he has the audacity to send his butlers to do his dirty work?" A cold laugh escaped me.

"Yes. I mean I wouldn't even know what to think if my father did something like that. Yours wrote you letters, didn't he?"

"Yes. Because that makes up for everything," I said sarcastically.

"You should tell him," Yukino said.

At first, I wasn't sure what she was getting at. "What?"

"Look, I'm with you. Everything he's done and is doing is completely unfair. He isn't even taking your feelings into account at all. But you're also not the kind of person to take this kind of thing lying down. You're going to meet him at this birthday party, right? Take the chance to tell him everything you couldn't before. Give him a piece of your mind. You're not just some possession for him to screw over time and time again. It's about time he realises that. You don't play by anyone's rules but your own."

I chuckled. "You sound like my dad."

"Akira?"

"Who else?"

As we moved on to lighter topics, I couldn't help recounting my past. My mom had told me that my father was a sailor. There was no way she wouldn't have known that he wasn't. Which means she lied. Even as she lay on her deathbed, she never bothered telling me the truth. I was mad when I found out, but it's been a long time since then, and I've forgiven her. Not that it mattered. She wasn't in this world to answer for it anymore, anyway.

My mom had died when I was still in Elementary School. Akira was a good friend of hers. Unlike Eisuke's father, my mother never made him promise to take care of me. But he did. I had no one; no relatives. I would have ended up in the system if it weren't for him. Who knows what kind of life I would have had?

Akira was the CEO of the Ichinomiya Group before my brother took over. Eisuke and I didn't really have much of a bond. He wasn't that kind of person. Our relationship resembled that of business partners more than anything else. Our ways of thinking were always so different. We bumped heads a lot of the time, but as far as the Ichinomiya Group goes, we worked well together.

Then there was Kazuma Ichijo, my estranged, not to mention, deadbeat, father. He developed the Ichijo Group into one of the biggest corporations in Japan. But nothing about that impressed me. I spent the majority of my life hating him. I never wanted to meet him, and every time Eisuke told me to go to a meeting with another corporation, my stomach churned at the possibility of it being the Ichijo Group.

Yukino and I finished our lunch. It felt like we spoke for hours, and I felt so much lighter leaving the café.

By the time I went home from meetings, it was past 10. Tomoki was waiting for me in the foyer when I got home.

"Welcome home, Miss Ichinomiya. You are two hours, 10 minutes and 26 seconds late."

"I had meetings," I replied as I pushed past him.

"What happens at your job is not my concern."

"Right. Just like I don't give a shit about your little schedule either."

"It is my job to teach you what you must learn from 9 pm to midnight."

"And what's that? How to be a micro-managing freak?" I noticed Tomoki's eyebrow twitch. "Oh, wow. A reaction."

"So, let's begin with etiquette."

"Yeah, Yeah. Just gimme a minute to change."

"I can allow you 2 minutes. Not a second longer."

"Oh, yes. Here." I handed him the bento box in the paper bag he gave me this morning. "It was good. Thanks."

"No need to thank me. I was simply doing my job. You do yours. Show me you have what it takes to be a society lady. I don't have much time."

"I don't "have what it takes". I already am one," I said and disappeared into my room. "Why do you care so much, anyway?" I called to him through the closed door.

"I consider making sure you're a presentable lady my way of repaying your father."

"How wonderful for you..." I replied sarcastically. I finished changing into more casual clothes and joined Tomoki in the living room.

"Expect to make up for yesterday's lack of practice and today's tardiness."

"Can't you just get on with it without leaving your 2 cents about everything I do?"

"Very well. Let's begin with basic greetings. We're behind schedule so we have five minutes to finish this." The things he was going over was, in fact, pretty basic. After almost two hours, the tablet started to beep loudly. "It's midnight," Tomoki said. "That will be all for today. Good job."

I sighed. This man resembled a robot more than anything else. I wouldn't be surprised if he did end up as some cyborg.

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