#my hands are turning into blocks and merging with my arms

[pooepw]

87 - fun stream

Stream

I continued to play on the SP world that I made for CTE: 2 Resolution. I decided against playing any of the new modpacks I found, which were DawnCraft, All The Mods 9, and Prominence II, since I did not feel as though they were as good as CTE: 2. Although all of those other modpacks were a bit more fleshed out than the modpack I played, I still find the feeling behind the overhauls Mine And Slash makes to be more interesting than them. I will go over each modpack and why I did not like them as much in the following sections. As for what I did in my world, I continued to build my house. Not super exciting for a modpack that overhauls Minecraft into an ARPG experience like that of POE or Diablo, but I chose to work on this since the modpack is soon to be updated with a rebalancing patch along with patches to the quest system. This left me with one thing that would go unchanged: the huge fortress of a house I was building. I also constructed a simple mine today by using the veinminer mod that was in the pack. Very convenient.

Prominence II

Going in order of best to worst, I thought that Prominence II was a great experience for a modpack. It did have issues with getting it to run since LWJGL would not work with the latest patch, but that will likely be fixed because downgrading enabled the modpack to work. Getting into the content of the pack, I enjoyed the lorebuilding the pack did with the quest system, along with the plethora of quests to do that involved the different dimensions. This is where I think this modpack has a leg up against CTE: 2, but the gap will be filled as CTE: 2 is fleshed out more by the developers. Where Prominence II fell short for me was the build system. When I saw that this modpack had a talent tree, I first thought, "This must be where all the ARPG enjoyers are going for their Minecraft ARPG experience fix," but after closely examining the tree, there was not much to the tree itself. Every node was a simple passive, other than the nodes furthest out from the center. As to give more understanding, the way that much of the damage works in this modpack is that there are elemental damage types that are embedded within weapons as well as physical and ranged damage. I thought that the simplicity of the nodes were more suitable for a leveling system rather than a talent tree, with many of them being something along the lines of "Increase ____ damage type by #%" and do something else simple like +5% spell critical damage. I did not go too far into the modpack, but I do not think that I saw much else in terms of building a character.

TL:DR - Prominence II was a good modpack, I just thought it was too simple with the talent tree and character building.

All the Mods 9

This modpack is an iteration of a group of modpacks. I think I remember playing the very first iteration of the modpack a while ago, as well as the spinoff All the Magic: Spellbound, which I got really far in. All the Mods 9 was not a bad modpack by any means. In fact, I really enjoy modpacks that have a high variety to do. The only problem that I really had with it was that I did not really feel like playing this kind of modpack. It feels like a modpack that I should not stream but just play when I feel like I just want to explore a large variety of mods. I played a rather small amount of this modpack thinking I was going to stream it instead, but now I think I will just play it solo.

TL:DR - All the Mods 9 is great! I just do not want to stream it.

DawnCraft

I played DawnCraft more than All the Mods 9 but less than Prominence II, and I did not really enjoy the experience. One thing about DawnCraft is the expectation that the player will constantly be switching perspectives with F5 since it is mainly to be played in 3rd person, and this was a feature I disliked. Honestly, this was probably the only feature I disliked. I know that this is really nitpicking and biased, but I simply do not like having to constantly switch perspectives in Minecraft, and it was totally necessary for this mod since your own attacks could not be seen in 1st person too well, but doing the ordinary Minecraft actions like chopping wood, placing blocks, and mining necessitated switching to 1st person. Maybe if the perspective system was changed to work like Skyrim this would work better since Skyrim just uses the mouse wheel, which is less intrusive.

TL:DR - I do not like having to swap perspectives constantly when playing Minecraft; I have played for over a decade and have never enjoyed playing in 3rd person. DawnCraft forces me to do so.

This is the end of my TED Talk about how to uninstall Minecraft. Please pick up your copy of Terraria as you leave.

[slashbitch2]

i'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you

Summary: reeling from the sting of rejection, you're surprised when a certain witch approaches you with a dangerous offer Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader TW: none actually W.C: 3k words I believe

Autumn had fallen across Salem like a blanket, wrapping its way around the trees and shaking until every golden-brown leaf had fallen to the damp ground below. The leaves began to meld back into the Earth from whence they came, and the smell of rot which accompanied such a time filled your nose: fresh and earthy. It was the smell of home. The damp air settled upon your clothes and chilled you to the bone, while leaves crunched underfoot, clinging to your mud-caked boots. Yet you marched diligently on.

The bucked swung by your side with each step, rusty joints at the handle creaking into the empty night air. The forest was always eerie after the sun had set, and you had regretted volunteering to go and get water for the coven the very minute the words left your mouth. Truth be told, you had seized the opportunity to escape, to continue avoiding a certain brunette witch who had been eyeing you up all evening.

Somewhere in the far distance, an owl screeched and you jolted, fist instinctively tightening around the metallic handle of the bucket and causing pain to shoot through your hand.

You forced yourself to stand still for a second and took in a deep gulping breath, feeling the fresh air enter your body and soothe your nerves.

It was a new moon tonight, and so the usual silvery light illuminating the woodland was lacking. It also meant it was an important night for the coven, and so you ought to hurry. You resumed your original pace to the well along the outskirts of a nearby town, memory guiding your movement. The nearby town was rather suspicious of your coven’s activity, and thus the only opportunity to access this source of water was under the cover of darkness.

Tonight, the water was crucial. On every new moon, the entire coven gathered together to cast a protective spell over the land, and you could imagine them all sitting around the fire, patiently awaiting your return.

Between the silhouettes of the trees, you caught sight of warm, orange light emanating from the distance. You were nearing the town. Squinting, you paused to peer around, trying to remember where the well was situated. It was so dark you could barely make out where the ground merged into the roots of each tree. You would have to be careful not to trip. Any sound could alert the dogs which vigilantly guarded the town, and in turn, call attention to you.

You hesitantly stepped forward, fixated on the distant light source like a moth to a flame. The lanterns which hung from each house roughly guided you, promising that the well would be somewhere close. A twig snapped underfoot, and you froze, scrunching your eyes closed and waiting with bated breath for the telltale sound of violent barks and howls.

A beat passed and nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes, your head whipping around to check the forest remained still. Each oddly shaped tree or slight movement in the corner of your eyes held your attention for a second longer, your anxiety running rampant and conjuring impossible images into your mind.

You shook these impossibilities away, and deciding all was clear, you turned to face forward once more, only to crash directly into something.

Gasping was all you could do not to scream at the sudden intrusion. You stumbled backwards, realising it wasn’t something- rather someone blocking your path. The person reached out to grab hold of your arms, steadying you.

She shushed you, and before you could even adjust to the darkness and make out her face, you already recognised her. It was Agatha Harkness who stood before you, that particularly annoying, brunette witch you had been trying to avoid.

“Careful now.” Agatha admonished, though you could hear the smirk in her voice.

You exhaled, feeling your fear melt away into annoyance. “You scared me, Agatha.” You shook off her hold, immediately missing the heat of her hands against your clothed skin.

“Scared, why? What’s out here that a powerful witch like yourself wouldn’t be able to handle?”

The way she emphasised the word 'powerful' made you frown. You knew she was trying to flatter you, though you didn’t understand why just yet.

“An angry mob from the village.” You answered after a beat.

“Please.” Agatha scoffed. “It’s not that you couldn’t handle them, you just wouldn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes at her subtle jab. Agatha was more inclined to use her magic against people, whereas you didn’t think it was a fair fight. She always seemed to believe there was some kind of competition between you, as two witches of the same age who had cultivated a similar level of power. Therefore, anything she perceived as a weakness, she would frequently remind you of.

Refusing to let her aggravate you any further, you changed the topic. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” Agatha shrugged, and before you could react, she reached out, her hand brushing past your face to your hair, gently twirling a strand around her finger. “You know, girl to girl, witch to witch.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Sinner to sinner.”

The lack of distance between you, the soft touch, the secretive tone to her voice; it was almost affectionate, perhaps seductive. But you knew better than to fall for her act. This was Agatha Harkness, after all.

“Well, too bad 'cause I really don’t want to talk to you.” You said simply, hoping she would pick up on the finality you had imbued within your words. Instead of waiting for a response, you sidestepped and pushed past her, determined to finish the job you had been tasked.

“That wasn’t the case a few nights ago,” Agatha called out.

You cringed first at the volume of her voice, not having forgotten how close you were to the town, and then again upon taking into consideration the meaning behind her words. You stopped, inhaled slowly and forced your tense shoulders to relax. Then, in a quieter tone, “Can we please just pretend that never happened?”

There was a rustling behind you as Agatha drew closer. “Sure.” She responded simply, though the word was anything but simple to you.

As much as you loathed how Agatha had treated you, how carelessly she had played with your heart, you couldn’t forget how well you understood her. Like now, at this moment you recognised the mask of indifference in her voice, hiding beneath it a vulnerable admission of guilt, sadness even. You watched with shallow breath as she pivoted slowly to stand in front of you, her attention ever fixed on you, observing your reaction.

“We won’t talk about it if that’s what you want.” Her eyes searched yours, ice cold even in the lightless forest. “But I didn’t follow you out here for a heart-to-heart.”

You paused, frowning. “Then why did you?

“Because I need you”

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t hide behind her usual cocky attitude. Her statement was simple and true, sufficient to steal your breath away.

“I’m forming a group- well, a coven within a coven I guess you could say.” Agatha continued, quick to move past the tension, though you were still reeling from it.

Agatha pursed her lips thoughtfully, as if considering each individual word and how you might respond. Whatever she was about to say, this was big.

“I want to walk the Witches Road.”

“Are you serious?” You spluttered out in disbelief, then remembering to keep your voice down, added, “That’s suicide!”

The Witches Road was notorious. Infamous. A suicide mission you all had been warned about from the very moment you started to learn the craft. To hear that Agatha planned on confronting this risk head-on was hardly surprising, but you thought she was smarter than that. You were disappointed in her. That she would think of doing such a thing, that she would believe even for a second that you were stupid enough to join.

“Not for us.” Agatha smiled sinisterly. “Maybe the others… but we’re strong. Stronger than any other witch in this coven. We can do better.” She implored, her hand snapping out to grasp your own free one, bringing it toward her chest. “So, what’d you say?”

Her hand was cold, her grip unrelenting, yet as she pressed you closer, you swore you could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was endearing, and still, you weren’t a fool.

“Who are the others?” You questioned instead, partly deflecting having to answer, and partly in disbelief that anyone would even hear Agatha’s proposal out, let alone agree to join.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” You challenged. “Have other witches actually signed up for this?”

“Oh. You’d be surprised!” Agatha sneered. “Loads of them, queueing up around the block to be part of my team.” Her expression morphed into one of excitement, though you guessed she was merely teasing.

“Huh, really?”

“You bet. I can be persuasive when I want to.”

“Irritating more like.”

“Maybe.” Agatha rolled her eyes fondly, unable to hide the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards before taking on a more serious straight line. “But look, I’m not going to do this without you, Y/N.”

This gave you pause, and then, a sense of indignant frustration.

“Why? Isn’t the all-powerful Agatha usually a solo act? What was it you said? You don’t want anyone tying you down?” You spat.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about the other night.”  She said, slowly, seemingly waiting to see how you would react.

The other night. When you had taken a chance, and it hadn’t worked out. When, in a moment of bravery, you had been honest with yourself, with Agatha, about how you truly felt, only to be met by derision and cruel laughter. The other night, when upon realising you were serious, she had tried to soothe your hurt feelings, but by that point, you had lingered long enough in your humiliation, choosing instead to turn and run. You would rather surrender to spending the rest of your long, long life avoiding Agatha than face that again.

“You’re right.” You sighed. “But I’m also not going to talk about, or even entertain this idea any further” You tugged your hand out of her grip like it had scorched you. “Actually, idea’s a strong word. I don’t think you’ve put any real thought into this.”

Agatha had the sense to look at least a bit ashamed of her suggestion and paused for a moment, as around you, the wind picked up, carrying leaves through the air and rustling the trees. It was as though the forest had come alive for a second, filling the silence between you. Shivering, you wrapped your cloak tighter against yourself, loathing how you regretted having been so quick to put Agatha down. She looked disheartened.

“Look…” When Agatha spoke at last, you were unnerved to see how she didn’t meet your eyes. “When I said I wouldn’t do this without you, that’s not strictly true… I already promised the others we’d meet in the clearing when the sun rises.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, your annoyance being instantaneously overpowered by a mix of anger and panic at this sudden revelation.

“So-“ She interrupted, throwing her hands in the air to pacify your outburst. “Just take your time to think about it. Either you’re in or you’re out and either way, that’s fine.”

“Ohh, a whole half a night to think about it. Very generous as always Agatha.” You spat, incredulous that she would leave you so little time to decide, should you even have entertained the idea… Not that you were thinking about it. Nope. Not at all.

“Well, I wanted to ask you first, but you kept running off!” She explained- or rather argued, as of course, she would pin the blame on you and your hurt feelings rather than take responsibility.

“I wonder why.” You muttered, irritably folding your arms.

“Okay.” Agatha mirrored your pose, crossing her arms across her chest. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but clearly this,” she gestured between the both of you, “needs to be addressed.”

“I don’t think-“

“No.” She interrupted, harsh and unforgiving of your clear reluctance. “I know I wasn’t exactly considerate to you, maybe a little meaner than I should’ve been.”

“That’s an understatement.“

“But regardless of what I said then, I want you by my side now. Walking the road, together-“

“So, you only want me when it’s convenient? When you need my help.” You snarked. “How lovely of you to say, I feel so much better already!”

“I won’t force you to do anything.” She continued, ignoring your comments. “Nor can I promise we’ll return. But I think we have a hell of a lot more of a chance if we’re together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, listening to her try to reason with you. Not that it would ever work. No way. The Witches Road was suicide, and Agatha was hardly much better herself. “You’re saying this like I’d ever consider joining you.” You said with a shrug.

Agatha smiled suddenly, like you’d said something hilarious, then averted her gaze down for a beat before stepping closer. A lot closer, invading your personal space and causing all rationality to flee your mind. And yet, you didn’t step back. She leaned forward, and you felt her breath fan across your cheek. “You’re an idiot if you don’t see the opportunity in all this.” Her voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. She was so close, her gaze flickering across your face like she could read your every micro-expression or movement.

Your inner logicality screamed at you to tell her no, you would not be joining her, nor did you ever want to see her again. That she should back up, walk away and never look back.

Every other fibre of your being dreamt of the possibilities, imagined how her lips would feel against your own, how her fingertips would trace across your skin. Your heart betrayed you. It urged you to lean in.

Agatha’s normally ice-cold eyes were softer as they darted down to your lips, though you couldn’t be sure that you hadn’t imagined it. After how she had responded to your confession, there was no way she could harbour any kind of feelings towards you beyond that of mild irritation and perhaps a tad bit of insecurity.

Reluctantly, you stepped back.

Agatha’s eyebrows scrunched up, her lips curling in displeasure as another gust of wind blew, chilling the newfound space between you.

While you were certain Agatha’s one goal in life was to rile you up, it seemed as though you had managed to do the same to her this one time. She looked annoyed, slightly sad and clearly disappointed.

In spite of everything, you revelled in this power you currently held over her. “I guess I’ll see you around Agatha. Good luck with your death wish.” Deciding to take this unusual superiority as an opportunity, you sidestepped her to continue on, not daring to glance back as you walked through the woods.

Or maybe you did. Just once. And maybe it was the darkness, or your mind playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Agatha stayed standing there, watching to ensure you safely accessed the well without alerting the townspeople.

But when you began your journey home, she was nowhere to be seen.

...

As the night wore on, you found your mind didn’t cease.

Agatha’s eyes were constantly on you, carrying an indecipherable weight. You wondered if, perhaps, this would be the last time you’d ever see her. If she would step foot on the Witches Road and disappear from your life forever.

This idea should’ve brought you some form of peace, and yet, it didn’t

How could you go on knowing that Agatha was condemning herself to death, and you weren’t there to witness it? Or even, put a stop to it.

Agatha Harkness was your burden to carry. She was irresponsible, power-hungry and manipulative, and yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to let her walk the road alone. You wouldn’t let her go thinking that you didn’t care.

You had put on an act to try and protect yourself, something to ease your heart, still reeling from her rejection. But you knew it was futile to try and keep it up. Whether you joined her to walk the road or not, Agatha had already caused you enough pain. And so, what the hell, you might as well indulge in her company a little more.

Halfway through the coven’s ceremony, placing protective runes upon the land, you noticed Agatha slip away from the crowd, fixing you with one final glance before she disappeared into the night.

You waited a little longer, savouring what would possibly be your last time as part of the coven. And then, as you noticed the sky take on a purplish hue signifying that the sun was fast approaching the horizon, you stood, numbly walking in the direction of the clearing Agatha had referred to.

Your mind was empty when you caught sight of a group forming a circle in the middle of the field. You didn’t bother to try and catch a glimpse of anyone’s face, knowing that soon they would reveal themselves, and you would be trapped, relying upon each other on the Witches Road. Fresh dew glistened upon the grass in the morning light, the damp seeping into your boots as you approached. It had been a long night already, and you longed for your bed.

And then you caught sight of Agatha, and she smiled, soft and scared, and all your problems seemingly melted away.

...

notes: bonus points if anyone can name the song lyrics i used as a title cause im too lazy to be original

hope you enjoyed :)

[kozachenko]

(Click the image for better quality)

Yipeeee that Keiki and Mayumi fanart I posted the WIP of is finally done woooo- This piece was a very experimental one that I'm kind of OK on. Maybe because I've just gone insane looking at it for so long and I'm my own worst critic lol.

Artist's Notes;

So I've once again been playing around with my rendering style, mainly because I have been wanting to improve my lighting for a while now and as I was just scrolling through Tumblr, I saw some of the official art for that one webcomic-turned-animated-TV-Show Lackadaisy and was immediately inspired. I also have seen a technique a few times in the past where the lineart and shading are merged together, so I've been meaning to try that for a little while.

I did some experimentation on this one sketch of Keiki I posted in my sketch dump and I really liked the results of it, so I carried those over to this piece.

I ended up scaling up Keiki and Mayumi from the original WIP because I felt like they were both getting lost in the composition, and I'm glad for that because I think it works a lot better. I'm not a fan of how Mayumi's sword turned out at all, but it's not really meant to be the focus of the piece so eh. Overall, I think I could do better with my colours, probably because with Keiki and Mayumi's colours, I did them flat in greyscale and then used a brush on the overlay blend mode to colour all of them over, after which I changed the base layer for their colours from white to yellow and then lowered the opacity so it all went together better. I also decided to use gradient maps for a lot of the background elements, mainly to experiment with getting in my values first to make them pop out more. I ended up finding a really nice sky gradient on Clip Studio Paint that I really liked, and that kinda helped to establish the colour scheme of the background a lot. I think the whole "start in greyscale then colour" thing really works better with painterly styles rather than more illustrative ones, and while it is good at making sure your values are more readable, I honestly don't think I have the skill level to pull that off yet. Honestly, I think I've been looking at this drawing too long or maybe I added too much to it, but I wish I could've made the colours less monochromatic, but I'll just save that for the next piece I do.

I do love how the flame (...well it's more of a weird space rift than anything in this piece) and the lighting turned out, those were fun to do. I was initially struggling with the flame and how Mayumi is positioned in front of it before realizing "Oh wait! This is a weird abstraction of a weird creature! I don't have to follow the laws of anatomy!" and just dislocated it's flamey bottom jaw from the main body. I also changed the colours of it since I was really not liking how incredibly bright it was when it had lighter colours. Again, the gradient maps served the more painterly style of the flames well.

I also love how Mayumi turned out. I could do her sleeves better but that's more of just me needing to study how those types of sleeves fold in that position more. I'm also very happy with the posing, the technique I used for that was taking photos of myself in the positions I wanted, blocking in the silhouette and then modifying that by adjusting it to my lines of action that I drew on top of the original photos, and then sketching over the silhouettes and drawing in the shapes of the hands overtop of the photo if I needed to get the fine details right. As for what I do to take the pictures myself, I use a tall chair I have, prop up my phone with a phone stand, put on a ten second timer and scramble to get in position. Yes, I did have to use a bunch of thin markers I had to try and get the hand positioning on Keiki's pose right, yes I do have a fake sword that I used to get the positioning of Mayumi's arms and hand right, the sword was for an old Halloween costume from several years ago. I really like how both Keiki and Mayumi turned out in this drawing, I'll have to play around with these designs for them more in future drawings.

Also, if you wanna know why I draw buildings like that, when I watched Fantasia 2000 as a kid (One of the Disney movies where they make really beautiful animations to classical music) the way they drew the buildings in the first few sections Rhapsody in Blue segment (the jazz one with the cities) changed my brain chemistry and now whenever I need to draw buildings really quickly, I refer back to that. Since the buildings aren't really the main subject, I didn't put much thought into them.

As you can tell I am very tired of this piece, mainly because I made things harder for myself by overcomplicating the process compared to what I usually do, mainly with the whole "starting in grayscale then adding colour." I'd honestly just prefer having a black layer set to colour that I can just toggle on and off when I need to see the values, but it was good to experiment. And that was mainly the point of this whole drawing, to experiment. I'm definitely going to have to play around with this new style I'm going for, mainly because I liked how it turned out a lot in the augmented Keiki sketch, and also because I want to find ways of making it suit my style more. I also really want to keep experimenting with my lighting like this, it's very fun. Last but not least I am never starting in greyscale again because dear god I do not like the workflow it forced me into. I don't have a problem with the method itself it's mainly just a skill issue lol.

If you wanna read my headcanons for these two, I put them in my WIP post, so you can read them there if you want to. The more I look at this the more I prefer the simplicity of my WIP. I might go back to this and just take away the fancy colours and effects to see what it looks like without all of that stuff and reblog this post with that drawing, but for now, I don't think I can look at this drawing again for a while.

[ultrone]

𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗗𝗚𝗘 ┊ 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖼

synopsis (request). click here.

cw. mentions of alcohol, smoking.

wc. 4k at most.

You sprinted across the soccer field, your heart pounding loudly. The ball was at your feet, and you could feel the weight of the game resting on your shoulders. Tai had anticipated your run and passed the ball to you at the perfect moment, giving you a great chance to succeed. You used all your energy to move past the players trying to stop you, getting closer to the goal with each step, and the goalpost seemed to grow larger as you approached.

You swung your leg with all your might and kicked the ball. Time seemed to slow down as you watched it soar through the air, perfectly aimed toward the net. The goalkeeper dived, desperately trying to block your shot, but it was too late. The ball hit the back of the net, and the crowd started cheering loudly.

The loud cheers from the crowd filled your ears, echoing across the field. The faces of your schoolmates, friends, and family merged into a joyful blur, all united in celebrating your win.

Amidst the sea of jubilant faces, you saw your teammates rushing towards you. Their beaming smiles mirrored your own. They embraced you tightly, jumping up and down in pure happiness. Lottie, your best friend and teammate, was the first one to reach you. She enveloped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground, her eyes sparkling with pride and excitement.

"We're going to nationals!" Van exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. The entire team erupted into a collective celebration, their voices blending into a symphony of joyous shouts and cheers, continuing to jump up and down.

💽 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa

The music echoed off the walls of the locker room, and all of your teammates joined in singing along and dancing, filled with happiness knowing that you had made it to nationals.

Lottie twirled around the room, dancing her way towards the bathroom. She glanced at Jackie, who was busy applying makeup to Allie's face, and spoke up, "Coach wants to see you in his office."

Jackie nodded and gave a gentle squeeze to Allie's arm before leaving without saying a word. Van stepped in, seamlessly taking Jackie's place and continuing to apply makeup to Allie's face.

As Allie began to voice her frustration to Van about being the only freshmen player missing prom to attend nationals, you emerged from one of the stalls, tidying your shirt as you did. The moment Lottie caught sight of you, a wide grin illuminated her face.

"There you are," she exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight.

"Here I am," you playfully responded, raising your eyebrows in jest.

"You did amazing today, Y/n," Lottie said, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "I'm really proud of you," she added, a gentle smile gracing her face as she affectionately rubbed your arm.

"Thanks, Lott," you replied, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks at her touch. "You weren't too bad yourself," you teased, causing Lottie to roll her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad I could live up to your impossibly high standards," Lottie retorted with a hint of sarcasm, her lips curling into a smile. "But hey, I wanted to ask, do you wanna come over?" she asked, her hand sliding from your arm to entwine her fingers with yours, playfully twirling them.

“Right now?” You questioned.

"Yeah, my parents aren't home again," she explained.

"Weren't they supposed to come back from their trip last night?" you asked confused. "I thought they were here at the game."

"They were supposed to, but they changed their return tickets once more," she replied, pursing her lips to conceal her disappointment. "You know how they are," she added, attempting to make light of the situation.

You nodded in understanding, giving her a soft smile. "I'll only go on one condition," you said as your smile gradually turned into a smirk.

"And what would that be?" Lottie asked, returning your smile with equal enthusiasm.

"If we order pizza and you let me choose today's movie," you bargained.

"But you picked the movie last time," she complained, tilting her head in mock protest.

You simply shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Ugh, fine," she conceded, a defeated smile playing on her lips, knowing she had no other choice but to agree. "I'll go get my things, I'll wait for you outside." With that, she pulled you closer, planting a small peck on your cheek before darting off towards the locker rooms to gather her belongings.

As soon as Lottie's footsteps faded away, Taissa's voice filled the air.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm so proud of you," she mimicked Lottie with an exaggerated tone, her hands reaching for Van's face. Van, who had finished doing Allie's makeup earlier, burst into laughter as Taissa peppered her face with playful kisses.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing one of the dirty towels, and playfully smacked Tai's back with it. "Shut up, both of you," you said with a flushed face, trying to hide your embarrassment. "I hate you," you added, unable to suppress your smile.

“She's so in love with you, it's getting embarrassing," Tai remarked, playfully snatching the towel from your hand and poking your stomach.

"Yeah, and you probably have feelings for her too," Van chimed in, a teasing tone lacing her words.

"No, I don't," you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to dismiss the notion. "We're just best friends," you assured them, your voice carrying a hint of defensiveness.

"Yeah right," Tai responded with a knowing smile. "Hey, look at us, Y/n! Van and I are best friends too," she declared mischievously, twirling Van around playfully, and pretending to make her fall back like a princess, capturing her in a passionate kiss.

"Alright, enough teasing," you said, playfully nudging them with a smile on your face. With that, you left the bathroom and headed towards your locker to gather your belongings, ready to join Lottie outside.

Once you had collected all your belongings and bid farewell to your friends, you stepped outside the gym and spotted Lottie patiently waiting for you in her car. With a smile, you hopped in, and she started the engine, driving the two of you towards her house.

The two of you were lying next to each other on Lottie's queen-sized bed. The large box of pizza sat on the floor, nearly empty, as neither of you could take another bite without feeling overwhelmed. The second movie of the night was halfway through, but both of you were more engrossed in your phones than in whatever was happening on the screen.

Lottie's gaze shifted towards you, noticing the constant kicking of your feet and occasional giggles.

"What are you looking at?" she asked curiously, attempting to catch a glimpse of your phone.

"Nothing," you replied, emphasizing the last syllable and turning your screen away from her. "I'm just texting Nat, that's all," you explained, causing her to furrow her eyebrows.

"Since when do you and Nat text each other?" she inquired.

"Um... I don't know. She helped me out with a project about Italy around two weeks ago, and we've been talking a lot since then. Turns out she's more fun than I thought," you chuckled.

"I see," Lottie responded, her tone tinged with a hint of coldness, before returning her attention to her own screen.

A silence lingered between you for about five minutes before Lottie spoke up again.

"Isn't she into girls?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's bi," you replied confidently, looking at her. "Why do you ask?" you asked curiously, before returning your gaze to your phone to reply to another text from Nat.

"Do you like her?" Lottie asked, her voice tinged with slight impatience, though you didn't notice.

"What?" You turned your head towards her, shocked and confused, signaling for her to repeat the question.

"Do you have a crush on her?" She reiterated with more detail.

"What? No!" You quickly responded, letting out a surprised chuckle. "I mean, no. Of course not," you continued. "She's very nice, and we're getting along really well, but honestly I don’t think I could ever look at her that way," you assured. "Why would you think that?" You asked, genuinely curious about her sudden question.

"No reason, just wondering," she replied with a soft smile, attempting to hide her slight uneasiness. "It's just that you're very giggly, kicking your feet and all. I had to ask," she explained humorously.

You laughed loudly. "Well, I don't have feelings for her like that," you reassured, returning your gaze to the chat on your phone.

Lottie nodded, her smile fading a bit as she turned her attention to her own phone.

The room grew quiet, with only the movie dialogue playing softly in the background. She wasn't convinced at all, she knew there was something happening between you two, but she wouldn't argue. At least not right now.

After a few minutes, Lottie spoke up again, her voice filled with uncertainty. "You know, if you did like her, it would be okay. I mean, she's cool, and if you're happy, then that's all that matters."

“Lottie, I don’t like her,” you reiterated. "Is everything alright? You're acting a bit weird," you asked concerned.

"Yeah... yeah," she replied, the second time a bit louder and more confident than the first. "Just forget about it," she said with a sigh and a chuckle. "Anyway, Jackie just told me that Jeff agreed to throw a party at his house tomorrow to celebrate us making it to nationals."

“Yes!” you exclaimed excitedly. “Do you mind if I spend the night? And then we leave together for the party.”

“Just using me for my car, huh?” Lottie teased sarcastically.

"And for your amazing closet," you replied, skipping towards her closet and dramatically opening it, running your fingers over the fabrics. "I wonder what I'll wear tomorrow," you added with a smirk. Lottie playfully threw a pillow at you, and you tossed it back, then quickly jumped over her and gave her a hug, both of you laughing.

It was 10:00 pm, and you and Lottie were on your way to the party. The car window was rolled down, and your arm rested halfway out as you leaned your chin on it, gazing at the stars. Your lips moved to the lyrics of the song playing, lost in the moment. Lottie couldn't help but steal glances at you, captivated by the sight of your hair flowing in the wind and your eyes reflecting the starry night sky. A tight feeling clenching her chest.

The entire day had been spent together, lazily passing the time. Since it was Saturday and there was no school, you had stayed at Lottie's house, just talking and watching movies. Despite the lack of any specific activity, the day had been enjoyable. Whenever the two of you were together, no matter what you did, it was never boring.

You tried not to think about it, you really did, but the thought of yesterday’s interaction wouldn’t leave your mind. Why was Lottie asking me all those questions about Nat? And why was she so weird about it? What if she’s… No, no, she’s obviously not into me, I mean, does she even like girls? She’s never mentioned it before, I don’t think so. She never talks about boys though, but th-

"We're here," Lottie's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Are you okay? You seemed deep in thought," she asked, her worry evident as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, offering a comforting smile.

"Y-yeah, sorry," you stammered, blinking rapidly. "Let's go," you said, quickly stepping out of the car.

The two of you walked towards the familiar entrance, accompanied by the blaring music that filled your ears. This wasn't your first time here; Jeff, Jackie’s boyfriend and the football team captain, frequently threw parties as his parents were often away traveling.

The moment you stepped inside, the mingling scents of alcohol and tobacco hit your nostrils. You scanned the room and spotted Shauna, Jackie, and Tai deep in conversation by the pool table, each holding a red cup. Both you and Lottie headed towards them to say hi.

"Wait," you said to Lottie, pausing for a moment. "I'm gonna go grab a drink from the kitchen real quick. Do you want anything?" you asked her.

"Nah, I'm good. I think I'll smoke a bit first," she replied.

"Okay. I'll be there in a bit," you said before turning your steps towards the kitchen.

It was a short walk, a small hallway connected the living room with the pool table to the kitchen, and the door frame was large enough that even from the back corner of the kitchen, you had a clear view of the entire hallway and a significant portion of the living room.

As expected, the kitchen was a mess, with water scattered across the floor, red cups strewn about, and empty beer bottles littered the kitchen bar. You rummaged through the disarray and, luckily, spotted a half-filled bottle of Smirnoff vodka. You poured the vodka into a cup, and then added soda into it as well. While stirring the drink with your index finger, you turned around and leaned against the kitchen bar.

After finishing the mixing process, you licked your finger and took a big sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down your throat, balanced by the sweetness of the soda. As you slowly lowered the cup, your gaze instantly found Lottie in the crowd.

For the first time that night, you couldn't help but pay close attention to her appearance, despite trying your best not to. She wore a soft pink checkered skirt that accentuated her long, stunning legs, paired with a darker pink fuzzy cropped sweater and stylish black boots. Her wavy brown hair cascaded loosely, resting gracefully on her shoulders. A radiant smile adorned her face as she engaged in conversation with the girls, her weight shifted onto her right leg, while her right hand casually rested on the pool table. In her left hand, she held a beer she likely found somewhere, holding a cigarette between her fingers.

Suddenly, a voice broke you from the trance you were in.

"Quit drooling, Y/n," Nat teased, standing next to you, a mischievous grin on her face.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you about it. Now you won't let it go," you muttered, turning to face her.

Nat smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "No, I won't. Should've known better before telling me," she replied playfully.

"Ah, fuck off," you joked, playfully shoving her shoulder.

Leaning her face to one side and crossing her arms, Nat asked, "So, when are you telling her how you feel?"

You looked at her as if she had said something absurd. "Um... never???" you responded, emphasizing the obviousness of your answer.

"Are you kidding?" Nat exclaimed, clearly baffled by your response.

"Why would I be kidding?" you retorted. "She's my best friend, Nat. I don't want to risk it. Plus, I don't even know if she's into girls," you explained.

"Dude, literally everyone knows she's into you. You're the only one stupid enough not to notice," Nat declared, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No, she's not into me," you insisted, trying to deny Nat's claims.

Nat shook her head, an exasperated expression on her face. "She waits for you after practice every day to drive you home, she's always staring at you and blushing when you look back at her. She's touchy, always playing with your fingers and doing gay shit like that. And she talks about you all the damn time, to the point where it's annoying," she asserted. "She even goes easy on you during practice, for fuck's sake."

"Okay, okay, I get it," you interrupted, realizing that Nat had a point. "But that could just be her being a good best friend, right?" you tried to argue back.

Nat sighed, clearly frustrated. "You have to be kidding me, Y/n," she said. "You know that I'm right. You're just too much of a pussy to admit it."

"No, I'm not," you defended yourself, feeling fear and uncertainty welling up inside you.

"Yes, you are," Nat repeated, deliberately trying to provoke you.

You were scared. What Nat had pointed out was undeniably true — Lottie's actions had been blurring the line between friendship and something more. You were desperate to confess your feelings, but the fear of rejection held you back. In frustration, you huffed and downed the rest of your drink, unable to find any more arguments to counter Nat's claims.

“You smirred your lipstick a bit,” she said.

“Where? Here?” you said as you cleaned the wrong side with your thumb.

"No, no, lemme just..." Nat trailed off, moving her thumb toward your lip and carefully wiping away the smudged lipstick on your lower lip. Her brows furrowed in concentration.

Just as the moment between you and Nat seemed to linger, a throat cleared nearby, abruptly interrupting the innocent exchange. Startled, you turned around to find Lottie standing there, a fresh new drink in her hand and her cigarette almost finished.

"Y/n, can we talk?" she requested, her tone leaving no room for refusal. Her voice held a firmness, almost demanding, as she spoke, and her gaze was empty — almost tinged with jealousy — as she looked at Nat.

"Yeah, sure," you replied with a smile, though a sense of nervousness crept in. Turning to Nat, you bid her farewell with a smile and a nod. Then, you followed Lottie as she began walking, ascending the stairs. You trailed behind her like a lost puppy about to be scolded, noticing her slightly unsteady steps along the way. It was evident she was already tipsy, and you could feel a tingling sensation starting to spread through your own body.

Lost in your thoughts, you snapped back to reality as Lottie abruptly stopped walking. You found yourselves standing on a balcony that overlooked the backyard of the house. You looked down and saw people scattered around, engrossed in their own conversations.

Resting her elbows on the balcony bar, Lottie stared ahead, taking a deep drag from her cigarette before exhaling. The air between you grew heavy with silence, laced with a tinge of awkward tension—an unspoken desire to express so much but struggling to find the right words or the moment to begin.

You walked up beside Lottie, mirroring her posture by resting your elbows on the bar. Together, you observed the people below, waiting for Lottie to gather her thoughts and initiate the conversation.

Flicking the last ashes off her cigarette, she dropped it to the ground below and casually stepped on it. With deliberate movements, she shifted her body to fully face you, keeping only one arm resting on the bar. Her eyes locked onto your face, and you met her gaze, anticipating her next words.

"I've been wanting to tell you something," she began, her voice tinged with sincerity and vulnerability. "Honestly, I didn't plan on it, never thought it would happen, but it's getting to a point where I feel like I'll burst if I don't say it," she confessed, her words carrying a weight of honesty.

You furrowed your brows in silence, a hint of concern in your voice. "Lott, you know you can tell me anything. What's wrong?" you asked, though deep down, you had a sense of what she might be hinting at. Your heart began to race, awaiting her response.

Lottie hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her usually confident demeanor faltered slightly, and her voice wavered as she gathered her thoughts. She took a deep breath before finally speaking. "Well, I... I've been feeling something for you, Y/n," she began, staring deeply into your eyes.

She continued, her words carefully chosen as she tried to articulate her emotions. "I've been trying to deny it, but I can't ignore the way my heart races when I'm with you, or how your smile lights up my day. Every time we're together, it's like everything else fades away, and it's just you and me."

"I think…" Lottie paused, correcting herself, "Uh... I mean, I know. I'm in love with you, Y/n," her voice trembled slightly as she finished her confession. Her eyes searching yours for a response, her vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. Lottie liked you back. You couldn't believe it, really. You stood there in stunned silence, trying to make sure the alcohol wasn't playing tricks on your ears.

Gathering your thoughts, you locked eyes with Lottie, searching for any sign or indication that this was some kind of joke, but there was none. The sincerity in her eyes was undeniable. You didn't need her to repeat herself; you knew what she had said.

"I'm in love with you too, Lottie," you confessed, your voice filled with certainty.

"Wait... what?" she asked, her expression dumbfounded. "I-I thought you had a thing for Nat," she said, confusion evident in her voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Nat is just my friend," you reassured her.

"But she was touching your lips, and I thought..."

"She was helping me clean my smudged lipstick. I smudged it because I chugged down my entire cup of vodka, which I did because she was trying to convince me to accept that we're in love and that I should confess my feelings to you, but I refused," you explained, filling in the missing pieces.

Lottie's voice was filled with hope as she asked, "Wait, so you really like me back?"

Her hopeful question hung in the air, and without wasting another second, you thought that actions would speak louder than words. You swiftly pulled her towards you by the collar of her sweater, and then slid your hands up, locking your fingers in the nape of her neck, holding her firmly but tenderly, and you tightly pursed your lips together as if it were second nature to you. Your mouth was suddenly filled with the flavour of beer and tobacco, and you couldn't help but moan at the taste. She initially tensed in surprise but she soon relaxed and returned the kiss with the same intensity, tenderly moving her hands to your waist and drawing you in. As your tongue touched her lower lip to plead for access, her sweet scent filled your nostrils. You slid one of your hands to her cheek and softly caressed it with your thumb. As soon as she opened her mouth, your tongues started dancing together, fitting like perfectly matched jigsaw pieces.

Struggling for air, the both of you separated, your lips were bruised, and your breaths were rapid. You slowly opened your eyes and then gazed lovingly at one another.

"Does that answer your question?" you asked while catching your breath.

"Mmmm, I think I need another kiss," She bargained, a smirk slowly forming on her face, "Just to make sure you aren't lying, y'know?” She added.

"Yeah, right," you replied, returning her smirk. "Well, your wish is my command," you said, leaning in once again, ready to fulfill her request for another kiss.

“Fucking finally!” A drunken voice yelled from the backyard, followed by the sound of a cup being thrown in the air, hitting the bar with a loud thud. Startled, you turned around to find a drunken Taissa, accompanied by Nat and Van, giving you and Lottie a boisterous round of applause in celebration of your apparent confession.

As the both of you laughed in embarrasement, you playfully raised your middle finger at them, then pulled Lottie closer with your other hand. Your lips met once again in a deep, passionate kiss, eliciting a loud cheer from the girls below you.

[aheckinmess]

All's Well That Friends Well (Dad Nanami)

(Part 2 of Season of Serendipity.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Dad Nanami, Child Yuji, Original Child Character(s), Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Yuji Itadori, Besu Sukuna, Parental Nanami, Dad Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Protective Sukuna, Canon Divergence - AU, Sukuna Has a Daughter, Yuji is Nanami's Son, I Merged Two of My Series, Because I Thought it Would Be Adorable, Yuji Itadori is a Ray of Sunshine, OC Has Trouble Making Friends, But Yuji Sure Doesn't, Going to Pre-K for the First Time

Word Count: 1,025 words

Summary: Yuji goes to Pre-K for the first time; Nanami worries he'll have trouble adjusting, but Yuji is a little ball of positive energy. Needless to say, he makes friends.

While Yuji was an extroverted child by nature, Nanami still thought he might need time to adjust to preschool. So when Yuji easily waved goodbye as Nanami dropped him off for his first day at Pre-K, it soothed some of the paternal worry.

“Otouchan, how long is school?” Yuji wrapped his arms around Nanami’s neck and squeezed. “Is it very long?”

“You’ll be here for a few hours, Yuji-kun. But I’ll be back. You’ll be having so much fun you won’t even miss me.” He promised, kissing the young boy’s forehead. “If you need anything, just ask the teacher for help, okay? Remember how we practiced and…?”

“Raise my hand!” Yuji smiled.

“That’s my boy.” Nanami ruffled his hair and stood up. “Have a good day, Yuji-kun. And have some fun.”

“Okay!”

. . . . .

Yuji Itadori made having fun his mission. From the moment he stepped foot into the classroom, he curiously trotted around the room asking question…after question…after question.

“What about that? Why do you have that?” He asked Ms. Chotto, pointing at the hundredth object his little eyes had landed on.

“Yuji, honey,” Ms. Chotto laughed. “You’re such a curious little thing, aren’t you? Those are my plants and I keep them on the top shelf so none of my students accidentally eat them. They can hurt your tummy.”

“Then why do you have them?”

“I’m keeping them here for a little bit until I can find a space for them at home.” She explained, turning away to separate two girls from fighting over a doll. “Go find someone else to play with, Yuji, okay? I have to help some of the other children right now.”

Yuji pouted but did as he was told. Pre-K proved to be one of the most fascinating places he’d ever been! He’d already spoken to just about everyone in the classroom, when the door opened to reveal another little girl.

What surprised Yuji wasn’t how tightly she clung to her father, but her hair. Pink! Just like his!

As soon as Ms. Chotto got the pink-haired girl detached from her father, Yuji stood patiently to the side. He watched her hide in Ms. Chotto’s legs until she peeked out at him.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” He beamed.

Her wide, brown eyes looked up at Ms. Chotto and then back at him.

“I’m Besu.” She whispered. In fact, Yuji barely heard her.

“You sure are quiet.” He said bluntly. When she seemed embarrassed by that, Yuji pointed towards a pile of blocks on the rug up front. “You wanna go play blocks?”

Ms. Chotto muttered something into Besu’s ear. Besu whined back at her, but Ms. Chotto delicately coaxed her in Yuji’s direction. Yuji led the way over to the blocks and Besu sat by him silently.

“I like to build castles. What do you wanna build?” Yuji asked as he got to work. A triangular orange block looked perfect to fit on top of his green stack.

Besu shrugged her shoulders as she grabbed a few square pieces to fit together. Yuji gave her time to give it a specific shape, but when he still couldn’t tell what it was by the third row, he spoke up.

“What is that?”

Once again, Besu shrugged. Yuji huffed, feeling disappointed. He’d expected her to be just like him since she’d looked so similar. But she barely even talked! Sensing this, Besu cleared her throat.

“I just like putting them together. But now I’m making a watermelon.” She explained, picking off a few blue pieces and replacing them when red and green.

“My dad put watermelon in my lunchbox! Wanna see?” Yuji stood before she answered.

“I don’t think we’re sposed to do that.” She glanced at Ms. Chotto and then Yuji’s lunchbox. “You could get in trouble.”

“Nuh-uh. It’s my lunchbox!” Yuji said matter-of-factly.

But when he went to grab it, Ms. Chotto put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yuji-san, it’s not time for lunch yet.”

“Can’t I show Besu my lunch?” Yuji frowned.

“Why don’t you show her when it’s lunchtime? That way you can both show each other what you have.” Ms. Chotto offered.

“Okay!” Yuji agreed, before toddling over to Besu. “Hey, Besu! Let’s wait until lunch and then I can see what you packed, too!”

“Father made me stew.”

“Oh, boy! Will you share?”

“...well, okay.”

. . . . .

While Nanami waited outside the classroom as kids shuffled inside, a man with wild pink hair waited with him. He couldn’t help but stare. Just like Yuji’s, and that’s not common. I wonder if he’s of any relation.

“You waiting on your brat, too?” Sukuna quirked a brow and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“I’m waiting for my son, yes.” Nanami answered. “It was his first day.”

“Mine too. You have any trouble dropping him off?”

“I thought I might, but he didn’t seem upset. He’s more outgoing, though, so I wasn’t too surprised.”

“I had to pry my daughter from me.” Sukuna scoffed, shaking his head with a smile.

“Ah, she must be a daddy’s girl, then. Does she have you wrapped around her finger yet?” Nanami normally wasn’t one for small talk, but the conversation helped him remain patient as he watched through the window while the teacher struggled to wrangle a boy into his bookbag.

“Absolutely not!” Sukuna huffed, but he turned his head away. “That is…I don’t give her everything she wants.”

Nanami couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’m the same with my son. He’s my first.”

“My daughter is my first, too.”

And then the floodgates unleashed. More parents began filing down the sidewalk towards the portable classroom, but Yuji and Besu were the first at the door. Both of them raced and planted themselves directly into their father’s arms.

“Otouchan! You won’t believe it! That girl looks like me!” Yuji turned to Besu to see her the most animated she’d been all day, jabbering on to her father with bright brown eyes. “She’s real quiet though…like Fushi-kun.”

“I see. Did you have fun, then?”

“Yeah! I made a best friend!”

And Nanami smiled when Yuji turned to Besu, waving goodbye as Sukuna carried her away.

Continue Reading -> Chapter 3

[whiskey-bumblebee]

I'm On Fire

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Reader (gender neutral, I think!)

Word Count: 2730

A/N: I got towards the end and realized there was way too much I wanted to pack in here, so I think I'm going to do a part 2! Let me know if you'd be interested! <3

Warnings: older Hotch/younger reader, a brief scene of hotch getting off on his own, inappropriate relationships <3 I think that's it?

Your soaked clothes cling to your body as you stand in the pouring rain. Cars pass you, occasionally honking, leaving you sighing. Your dad was meant to pick you up from practice half an hour ago.

A familiar car nears the curb where you're standing, and you squint into the headlights, holding up your hand to block out some of the brightness.

Great, you think. Now I'm going to get kidnapped.

The car pulls over, and you take a step back. The window rolls down and you're met with a familiar face, leaning over the passenger seat.

"Get in," He calls.

Mr. Hotchner. Aaron.

You hesitate for a moment, looking around. It's dark. For all you know, your dad isn't coming at all.

You sigh and open the door, taking a seat. You're completely soaked, and you cringe at the way the rain drips onto the leather upholstery. You drop your bag in the footwell.

"I'm sorry," You say before anything else. "I'll get you a towel as soon as we're at my place."

Mr. Hotchner doesn't react, looking you over carefully. "Are you okay? It's freezing out there."

You nod. "I'm okay. My dad was..."

"Late," He finishes, his jaw clenching as he flicks the indicator on.

"Have you heard from him?" You say hopefully.

He shakes his head as he merges seamlessly into the traffic.

"Home?" He asks.

You nod. "Thank you, Mr. Hotchner."

"Aaron," He corrects, a slight sharp edge to his voice. "I've told you that you can call me Aaron."

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold suddenly hitting you now that you're not able to walk around to keep yourself warm.

"Fuck," You murmur under your breath.

Aaron looks you over again. "Bad, huh?"

You will yourself to stop shivering. Fucking embarrassing, being soaking wet and now you're shivering like a dog. Pull yourself together.

You shrug. "Was out there for about half an hour."

"Half an-" He glances at you quickly, then back at the road. "Where's your dad?"

"Probably with his new girlfriend. He's not home much."

You glance at his wedding ring. For a moment, you wish that your dad was more like Mr. Hotchner. Dedicated, loyal. Reliable.

"How's Mrs. Hotchner?"

He clears his throat. "She's alright."

You look at him, the way his grip has tightened on the wheel, his brow furrowing, his shoulders closer to his ears.

"You're lying," You say softly. "You can talk about it, if you want."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. We all have our things," He looks over at you, putting on a smile. "Right?"

You nod. "Right."

A while later, you arrive in front of your house. Aaron waits out front for you to let yourself in. You walk in, and he realizes that all of the lights are off. He waits in the driver's seat, feeling that something's wrong. Sure enough, you walk back out, looking at him sheepishly. He gestures for you to come back out to the car.

"This is awkward, but my dad's not home and there's nothing in the fridge. Could you take me to a drive through?"

He looks at you for a moment.

"Do you want to come to mine? I don't like the idea of you being home all by yourself. It's late."

It's your turn to look at him, trying to find the right way to phrase it.

"I'm not sure Mrs. Hotchner would understand..." You start, and he sighs, but nods. You're right.

The rain is still pouring down, so he gestures for you to get into the car. He presses a few buttons on his phone and you press your lips together.

"Hi, honey," He greets his wife. You look at his ring again. His wife.

"I was just driving home and I got a call from Gideon. He wants us back at the office to start on another case," He explains, turning his head away from yours.

You feel your heart beat faster. Why? Stop. Stop that.

"I'm sorry," He says, and there's real guilt in his voice. You chew your lip. He's lying for you. You almost interrupt to tell him to stop. You'll be fine. But then he's staring at the phone and the car falls into silence. She hung up on him.

"What do you feel like?" He says, and you can tell he's trying to sound upbeat.

"Maybe Mexican?"

He nods. "I know a place."

In all honesty, you'd been expecting him to take you to a Chipotle, or a Taco Bell, something quick and easy, then drop you home again. Instead, you find yourself outside a food truck, where Mr. Hotchner greets the owners by name.

"I forget, are you vegetarian? Is this okay?"

He points at an item on the menu and you nod enthusiastically. It sounds delicious.

While he's ordering, a drunk man lurches towards you. Without thinking, you grab onto Aaron's arm, pressing your body against his. He reacts immediately, pulling you closer.

"Hey," He says authoritatively, and his face sets into a stern look that you've never seen before. He looks lethal. The guy holds up his hands and walks away. You relax, taking a step back.

Aaron pays, and the two of you walk back to his car.

"You okay?" He asks, opening your car door for you.

You nod and slip into the car. He walks around the front of the car, glancing over his shoulder.

He places the food on your lap and starts driving again.

"I don't think..." He clears his throat. "I don't think I should wait for your dad at your place."

You look at him for a moment, trying to understand where his discomfort is stemming from. You're both adults. Yes, he was friends with your dad, but you knew each other well. You'd seen him around often, and spent time alone occasionally. Once or twice he'd driven you home, although those times were planned, not spur of the moment like this was.

"I think I need to change," You say slowly, trying to find a solution before you finish your sentence. "It's really cold."

"Oh, I..." He glances in the backseat quickly. "I have some clothes in the back?"

You nod. "Okay."

You unclip your seatbelt and slip into the back seats as Aaron drives down the highway. He tries to protest, but you're gone before he can get a word out.

"Where are you going?" You ask, eyeing him in the rearview. He keeps his gaze contained to the strip of glass, where he can see your eyes and little else.

"Oh." He looks at the signs hanging over the highway. "Home, I guess. I wasn't thinking."

You duck for a moment, pulling his shirt over your head. For a moment, you fumble with a few of the tiny buttons, doing most of them up.

"Do you want to drive for a while? We could wait until we hear from him?"

"Sure," You reply, touching your hair to see how damp it still is. It feels cool to the touch, but you'll shower in the morning, reset it from the unexpected 'wash'.

In the end it's 3am when your dad texts you back. He apologizes and says he'll be home around lunch. Aaron rolls his eyes when he thinks you're not looking, but you notice.

At some point after that, you must have fallen asleep, because you notice that Aaron has draped his blazer over you, and you have a definite stiffness on one side of your neck from where you'd rested it against the window.

You swear you hear seagulls, and you look around.

"Where are we?" You say, looking out over the water.

"Delaware," He replies, a hint of humour in his voice. "Rehoboth Beach."

"Don't you have work?" You yawn.

"Don't you?" He teases.

You shake your head. "Day off."

"I just kept driving, thought it's been a while since I'd seen the ocean."

You nod, and continue to watch the sunrise over the ocean.

He could retire here, he thinks. The charming seaside houses and hotels, the boardwalk, the sand dunes, the purplish blue of the ocean in this light. It's a beautiful place. The seagulls provide a soundscape unlike any other he's heard. It reminds him of Seattle, in a way, but fresher. The local coffee shop towards the end of the street, the lone jogger taking a quick run before work.

"How about a swim before we head home?"

"Are you kidding?" He says, voice taking on a higher tone as he responds to what he assumes is a joke.

"We came all this way," You shrug. "Seems like a waste not to."

"I don't have a swimsuit with me."

You gesture out at the empty beach. "I don't think anyone will mind."

He shakes his head. "That's..."

"Be crazy," You say, grasping his hand in both of yours. "You just drove to Delaware instead of going home. Something tells me you need some crazy."

He looks at you, dead serious for a moment. You know you've hit the nail on the head. He pulls his hand back from yours, but nods.

"Alright. Last one to get in buys coffee."

"Deal," You grin. Immediately, you tug off your (his) joggers and open the car door, racing to the shoreline.

"No fair!" He calls out. "I'm in a suit!"

He hears your radiant laugh carried back to him on the surprisingly warm breeze, and you look back at him, smiling widely, hair tousled by the wind. He wishes he had a camera.

He takes off his pants slowly, and the same for his shirt and undershirt. He leaves them folded on the driver's seat and tucks the keys in the nook just above one of the wheels.

"I hope you know my coffee order," You tease, sending a wave of water at him as he finally joins you.

His white button up has gone completely transparent in the water, and he thinks you look like a goddess in it. He tries not to look, but he notices your nipples showing through it. Your wet hair emphasizes your facial features, drawing emphasis to the planes of your face, and he thinks he could watch you all day long, the golden tones of the sunrise lighting you like some wondrous painting.

You lie back in the water, letting yourself float. For a precious, fleeting moment, your worries melt away into the water. Your absent father, your uncertain future... In this moment, with the sun on your face and the smell of salt in your nose, you couldn't be happier.

When you open your eyes and find your footing in the sand again, you see that Aaron is doing just the same; laying back and floating with his eyes closed. For a moment you think of kissing him, and take a step closer. Just as you do, he opens his eyes and stands up.

"You're right," He says, and you look at him questioningly. "I needed this."

You nod, then run your hand over your arms. They're decidedly chilly.

"Home?"

He nods. "On the way, you can tell me your coffee order."

It's all explained away easily enough, and what can't be explained can be cleaned or hidden.

You: a "friend" ended up picking you up and driving you to pick up some Mexican food, hence the leftovers. The white button up is tucked away in the back of your closet, rinsed in the bathroom sink so nobody noticed it in the laundry basket. You were home and in bed by the time your dad made it back home.

Him: the "case" ended up being a dud, but unfortunately Aaron had been halfway through the paperwork when they found out. He pays for the 24 hour car wash in cash, vacuuming the sand out of every crevice. He was starving, so he picked up some takeout on the way home, which is why the car smells like food.

It's almost too easy to slip into your new life of 'crime'. The lies come too quickly, fresh secrets blossoming in clandestine gardens.

It's 2 am when Aaron wakes up, drenched in sweat, with a pounding headache. He's so warm he thinks he must be running a fever, but when he checks with the thermometer, he sees that he isn't. He uses a cool washcloth to wipe down his face.

When he walks back into his bedroom and sees Haley lying there in the dark, he tries not to wish it was you instead. He tries to erase the images his mind had spun in the silver threads of a dream, the way your mouth had dropped open so prettily for him as he eased into you. He tries. He really does.

He scrawls a note to Haley on the notepad on his bedside table, slipping it onto her bedside table so she'll see it when she wakes up.

Didn't sleep well. I'll call in sick when I wake up.

Around 9, he wakes, panicking at first when he sees the time, then remembering he was planning to phone it in. He sees a note on his bedside table, folded into quarters. He'll read it in a while, he thinks. Haley's gone off to work by now.

When he closes his eyes, the images he'd earnestly tried to erase last night came pouring back. You were under him, in his shirt, looking up at him with your trademark smile, ready to burst with a witty comment or bubble of laughter.

He squeezes his eyes shut again. No. This is bad. Your friend's daughter. She's half your age.

It's just a thought. She never needs to know. You're not really doing anything, let alone anything wrong.

He slips his left hand into the front of his joggers, palming himself, surprised that he's already half hard. For a moment, he runs his other hand over his chest, his stomach, then reaching down, stroking his upper thighs, cupping his balls.

It only takes a moment of remembering you on the beach to make up his mind, and he starts fucking his fist, gritting his teeth. It'll be quick and dirty. Just to get it out of the way. Then he'll be over it.

He comes, hot and wet over his fist and his stomach, and he groans softly. He wipes his hand on his skin and reaches for his phone. He feels like he's at law school again; this messy barely-a-man, jerking off, calling in sick to work, ignoring his responsibilities for one day of peace.

"Gideon," He says. "I know, I know. I'm fine. I won't be coming in today."

He glances down at his stomach, still coated in come. He thinks about how your stomach would look... Shower.

"Tomorrow," He says quickly, not fully sure if he's answering the question. "It's a personal day, I'm not sick."

He hangs up without listening to the rest. He doesn't want to know the case details, the people he's neglecting by not showing up.

When he puts the phone back on his nightstand, he remembers the note, and picks it up, expecting to be greeted with some vague sentence of marital pleasantries.

Aaron. This isn't working. I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to say. I want a divorce, is that it? I want more, Aaron. I want the man who promised to love me on my best and worst days. I want a baby. I'm going to stay with my sister. Next time you're out of town on a case, message me so I can come get my things. I don't care about the house or the money. I can't do this anymore.

Before he knows it, he's at Rehoboth Beach. He looks out at the water and he's not sure what to do. He rests his head on the steering wheel, then realizes it's incredibly painful to bend down so low, and glances at the boardwalk. The town is shabby-looking, the paint peeling from the sea air. The coffee shop is shuttered, a 'for lease' sign in the window. The jogger's face is heavy, exhausted. There's debris in the dunes, the remnants of a night of teenage drinking, he's sure. The light of the sun on the ocean is too harsh.

Worst of all, his passenger seat is empty.

[rinzler-smoocher]

Having Rinzler chasing after you in Clu's Grid, not sure if he's after you because he wants to kill you, present you to his leader, or what. You've seen him derezz other programs who've targeted you without a spare thought.

Apparently, the saying that "the enemy of my enemy is my ally" did not compute for him in any capacity.

He wanted you for himself.

Anyone who wished harm on you immediately put a target on their own back before they could even risk spilling a drop of your blood. It was reassuring in a way, but horrifying how this masked monster seemed determined to be the one to take you down, personally.

By foot, by lightcycle, or even by fucking lightjet, it didn't matter. He was on your heels from the start, almost playfully providing you a few moments of headstart before he'd tackle you and spar with you, discs refracting into one another in terrible clashes and batons extending to swords and bo staffs to try and take each other down.

You kept managing to get away, but Rinzler's relentless pursuit of you wore you down, kept you constantly at a hairsbreadth of breaking from the nonstop tension. You never had a moment to rest, a moment to stop. Just tracking down some source of energy before blasting off to some other corner of the Grid itself.

Still, it was only a matter time before you would need to get some serious sleep, and you had been ignoring it as long as you could.

But after having eluded Rinzler for multiple day-cycles, you hastily made a makeshift hideout in a little dingy town far off from the bright lights of Tron City and once you felt as though you were hidden and safe, you crashed into your pathetic excuse for a bed and fell into a deep, dark nap that blurred the time as you slept through electric dreams and nightmarish entities of glowing embers chasing you and hunting you for sport...

You woke up in a hazy daze, seeing the world around you enveloped in black, but...

No.

The world wasn't black, Rinzler was there crouched over top of you, leering intensely at you from his position with his hands and knees framing your body.

You took in a sharp, fragmented breath at the borderline of entering a full panic as he lingered there.

How the hell did he find you? Was this it? Were you just doomed from the beginning? Was he destined to kill you this whole time?!

As he bent nearer you, you winced and turned your face away from him to the side, clenching your eyes shuts and trying to block out whatever he'd do next. Considering how obsessed he had been with you this whole time, he'd likely had designed the most demented way to take your life with his own two hands.

Your blood ran cold though as the warm, reflective metal of Rinzler's helmet pressed against the base of your neck, with Rinzler resting his head there at your shoulder. Then, slowly but surely, his entire body shifted to be flat against you.

His chest armor was flush against your heaving ribs, with his hands splayed out, gripping intensely at the bedding just to the left and right of your head, peeling it and shredding it with his gleaming claws. His legs were still alongside yours, trapping you under him, with his pelvis resting just above yours.

You felt like you were being suffocated, his presence demanding more and more of you, forcing every particle of air out between your bodies, as if he was trying to merge you both into one being. All the while, he nuzzled his helmet against your neck and shoulder, a heady growl-purr echoing out through his distorted and damaged vocal functions, buzzing each and every sound he made directly though your form.

Your arms trembled, your breathing was rapid and unsteady, gasping for breath as the warmth radiated off of Rinzler and he closed in on you in every imaginable way possible, until his helmet pressed against your ear - sending an uncontrollable ripple of shivers down your spine - when he took a raspy breath and began murmuring to you in an attempt of a whisper:

"Finally... All mine, mine, mine, mine, mine..."

[riitah]

[to be a sorcerer] - geto suguru x gn!reader

WARNINGS: hidden inventory arc spoilers, mentions of death, blood, guns, fighting, and implied starvation, a little cursing SYNOPSIS: ever since the day suguru and satoru came back from their mission to retrieve the girl who was to merge with tengen, suguru has been kind of…off. so tonight, you decide to go visit him in the middle of the night in hopes of getting some answers, or, at least, bringing him some comfort. WORD COUNT: 1.1k HONORABLE MENTION: tysm beta reader “henry rumpelstiltskin III of the nuclear sock kingdom”!! AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i’m so sorry i haven’t updated in so long writer’s block has been ERYGIUHOJWQEHRUR i hope you guys enjoy this AND OH YEAH THE NEW S2 TRAILER CAME OUT I’M LIKE SO HYPED FOR IT i literally had a whole pre-written s2 first trailer (a/n) i wanted to post but that was way too long ago but anyways here’s a geto x reader story i have sm more BUT IDK HOW TO WRITE THEM including crying scenes FUCK yk i feel like geto’s the type of guy who’d comfort people when they’re crying but never let anyone see him cry but when he cries it’s just really messy and emotionfull you get what i’m saying?? like he holds in his feelings for so long it just comes out all at once and ok i’ll stop now sorry if this feels a little too ooc

You stood in front of Suguru’s door in your pajamas, wondering if this was a good idea.

Is he already asleep…?

You turned to go back to your own room, but upon remembering the few bites he had taken of his lunch the past week, you decided against it. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound of your knuckles against the wood echoing through the hallways. “Suguru? Can I come in?”

A beat of silence. “One second.” The sound of a bed creaking followed his voice, and just a few moments later, the door opened with a small creak.

Unfortunately, the sight of your boyfriend didn’t make you feel any more relieved. His hair framed his face messily, but they didn’t cover up the dark circles or hide the hollowness of his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved upwards when he saw you, but the smile never reached his eyes.

“(Y/N).” He stepped aside to let you in. “Staying up so late isn’t good for you, you know?”

“I could say the same about you.” You stepped into his dorm and he closed the door behind him. “It’s 2AM, and you have to go on a mission in a few hours.”

“I didn’t feel too sleepy.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, your eyebrows knitting together when you realized just how bony it felt. “And the rain wasn’t helping much. But now that you’re here, it’s a different story.” He led you to his bed and lied down, pulling you onto his chest in the process.

“Suguru! Warn me before you do that next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, because I‘m not letting go of you.” He rolled over so that the two of you were lying on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. “Ever.”

“I think you’re hanging around Satoru too much. You’re speaking and acting like him.” You laughed when he made a face at that statement.

“Don’t compare me to that guy.”

“Just ‘that guy’? He’d be so hurt if he heard you say that.”

“You know what I mean.” He pinched your cheek and gently rested his forehead against yours. “So, did you need something?”

“What, I can’t come visit my own boyfriend without a reason anymore?”

“Not when it’s two in the morning. But I might reconsider if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Definitely. Though I feel just fine.”

“You don’t look fine…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling you closer to him and planting a brief kiss on your nose. “Really.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. You haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, and the pitter-patter of the rain filled in the silence that had fallen over the conversation.

“...”

“Suguru…”

He then let out a tired sigh, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

You brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I just…can’t. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her.”

You took note of his heartbeat, which was rapidly speeding up. "Riko?"

He nodded and paused, trying to regain his composure before opening his mouth to speak again. “It's all still so vivid in my head. I can still hear the gun going off and–"

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful, Suguru," you whispered softly.

He shook his head, giving you a weak smile. "No, I think it's better this way. I feel like I'm being suffocated." There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, his sentences laced with nothing but regret. "When I do fall asleep, I always dream about the same thing. She dies, he tells me that he killed Satoru too, these people laughing at all of this as if it’s some sick sit-com–” He clutched at the hem of your top, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I can't help but think, what if I had just killed all of them off like Satoru said? Would I still be feeling this remorseful?"

You bit your lip at these words, not knowing what to say. Is there even a correct answer here?

Seeing the expression on your face, the muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you–"

"No, no, you didn't," you quickly reassured him. The rain had stopped, and the sound of raindrops hitting the glass was replaced with the sound of trees swaying in the wind. "And honestly, I don't blame you for thinking that way. People can be so cruel sometimes."

He swallowed. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I–" His voice cracked a little.

"It's okay to cry, Suguru." You cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks. "I hate it when you hold it in."

He leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“She had friends, family, she wanted to live–" he said quietly. "And they were clapping, cheering–" He broke into a sob. "(Y/N), I–I was supposed to protect her but I couldn’t–I couldn’t even do that right–"

It was the first time you had seen him break down like this, and your chest ached. You wiped away his tears with your thumb and ran your left hand through his long hair, desperately trying to come up with something to say to calm him down as he tried to talk.

“I feel so damn useless, even now I’m just–do you see this?” He looked up at you and placed a hand on top of your right hand, his thin fingers wrapping around it as if he was scared to lose you, too. “All I'm doing – all I can do – is replaying the events over and over.” He shook his head, his wet cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight. "I'm a jujutsu sorcerer, yet – yet I couldn't save her. I watched her die."

“It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. None of it was, I promise." You could barely hear yourself speak, but you hoped that your words could help somewhat. "I'm sure that she appreciated all that you've done for her."

You didn’t know how much time had passed when his choked sobs finally slowed down to hiccups, or how long you had been tracing circles on his hand with your thumb, but by the time the sun peeked from the trees in the distance, Suguru’s eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his damp cheek whenever his eyelids slightly fluttered.

"I'm sorry..."

You sighed at his sleeptalking, making a mental note to talk to him later about his tendencies to feel guilty about showing his feelings. "It's okay, Suguru. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything." You kissed his forehead and murmured a soft “I love you,” giggling a little when you saw a smile form on his delicate features.

Must be a nice dream, huh.

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 3

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

On Monday, Alba armed herself with a mop, a broom, a copious amount of dust cloth, and various cleaning fluids, powders, and waxes, packed into the basket of her bike and strapped along the frame. Papi offered to drive her, but she refused. Mr. Grunauer may not welcome another intrusion. Plus, she had the sneaking suspicion that Papi wished to check out Grunauer, to make sure that she was safe while working there. Grunauer may find that offensive. She didn't want him to feel like he was being scrutinized and have a reason to turn her out even before she could start.

Beatriz had protested having to man the counter alone, of course, but Alba knew, deep down, her sister was glad for a chance to prove herself to Papi. For her part, Alba was only too glad to get out of the hot, cramped bakery. She rode her bike down the lane toward the Grunauer place, delighting in the coolness of the swamp, where the sweltering heat could never quite reach. The message that Frank delivered on Sunday had been a pleasant surprise; then again, she was quite confident in her sandwich. Nobody could resist a Cubano from La Perla del Sur.

As she rounded a corner, Alba almost crashed into Grant's Aston Martin, which was blocking the lane, its red paint incongruous amongst all the greens. Grant himself was lounging on the hood, surveying the swamp with a pair of binoculars. Alba squeezed her brakes, mumbling a curse under her breath. She couldn't turn back now—he had caught sight of her and was lowering the binoculars with his usual arrogant smile, and with all the burden on her bike, she couldn't lift it over his car. She was stuck.

"Fancy meeting you here, Allie," he said. "Out on a morning ride?"

"Not everybody has as much free time on their hands as you do, Mr. Grant," Alba replied. "I'm on my way to work, if you must know."

"Doing what?" Grant eyed her cleaning supplies with distaste. "Cleaning?"

"Yes, I got a job as a housekeeper... at a hotel," she said, to just get him out of her way.

Grant raised an eyebrow. "What hotel made you bring your own cleaning stuff?"

Mierda. Grant may be a heel, but he wasn't a fool. "Would you move your car, please?" she said, trying to change the subject. "I'm late."

Grant didn't move. He looked down the lane, where it merged into the shadows of the swamp, and seemed to put two and two together. "I see that the bakery truck has been going to the Grunauer place quite a lot lately," he said.

"What's the big deal? Mr. Grunauer is our landlord."

"You don't know what he did during the war, do you?"

The last thing Alba wanted was to give Grant more attention, but at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. "I heard he was a medic," she said cautiously.

"He killed someone, you know."

Alba rolled her eyes. "There was a war on, in case you've forgotten, Mr. Grant. People killed each other all the time."

"No, not a Jerry. He killed someone on our side. In his unit."

This stopped Alba in her tracks. She stared at Grant. "Really?"

Grant smiled, smug now that he'd gotten her attention. "Yeah," he said. "It was on D-Day. His whole unit was killed. He was the only survivor. Isn't that suspicious?"

"No, not at all," she managed.

"They said it was friendly fire, though I have my doubts. But again, it was chaos back then. With all that fighting going on, it was easy to lose one's head."

To hear him speak, one would think that Grant had personally stormed the beach at Normandy and liberated every man, woman, and child of France, though Alba knew for a fact that he'd been stationed at Gibraltar at the time, enjoying a cushy assignment at the supply depot.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alba said, narrowing her eyes.

"Just looking out for my girl, that's all." Still leering at her, Grant moved his car an infinitesimal amount, just enough for Alba to squeeze through. She got on her bike and pedaled away without bothering to thank him.

Despite her effort not to let Grant get to her, Alba couldn't put his story out of her head. Could it be true? Was that why Grunauer never went out—not because of his scars, but because of the guilt? She didn't believe he was a stone-cold killer, but he seemed to have a bit of a temper. And if he had killed a fellow soldier, accidentally or not, and he found out that she knew... What would he do? For the first time, she realized the risk she'd put herself in. She was going to spend almost a whole day with a man she knew nothing about, in an isolated house, in a remote part of town.

It was with a certain quiver in her heart that Alba arrived at the Grunauer place. She unloaded the cleaning equipment and supplies and staggered into the house with them. Only Otto's joyful bark and his rough, wet tongue lapping at her arm in greeting jolted her out of her fearful reverie and restored some of her cheerful mood.

"Hola, Otto," she said, scratching his huge head. "I'm happy to see you too."

"Good morning, Miss Reyes," a voice said. Alba looked up to see Grunauer standing at the foot of the staircase. She peered at him, as if she could tell whether he was a killer or not just by looking, but all she could see was that sadly damaged face. At least he'd made an effort to shave today. He started to walk toward her, moving with difficulty—his left leg appeared quite stiff, something she hadn't had a chance to notice in their last two encounters.

She crossed the hall toward him, to save him the trouble. "Good morning, Mr. Grunauer," she said. She wasn't sure if she should shake his hand or not. "Please, call me Alba." He didn't reply. "Thank you for—" She was going to say "for the opportunity", only it sounded too formal, too rehearsed, like she just got interviewed for a job. Well, this was a job, wasn't it? "Thank you for this," she finished lamely. She tried to put on an eager look. "Where do you want me to start?"

Her question seemed to catch him by surprise. "I—I don't know. The whole house is a bit of a mess, as you can see. Everything needs attention." His hesitation made her feel a little better. At least he was as unsure about this as she was.

"How about you show me around and we'll see which room needs to be tackled first?" she suggested.

Grunauer looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I can't get around much," he said, indicating a cane leaning against the banisters. Alba could've kicked herself for being so thoughtless. Of course. If he had been able to get around the house, he wouldn't have let in fall into such a state. The den in the study made sense now.

"It's all right," she said cheerfully. "I'll start from the top and work my way down." She wrapped a scarf around her hair and picked up a broom. "And if I have any question, I'll just ask—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted, raising a hand. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Do what you have to do; there's no need to ask me anything."

"But what if I come across something that I'm not sure if I can throw away or not?"

"Just put them aside. I'll deal with them later." He started to sound irritated, so she simply nodded, and, ducking her head, she went past him and up the stairs, feeling those dark eyes on the back of her neck.

Alba went through the house, followed by Otto. Grunauer was right; it was a mess. Downstairs, there were the study and the kitchen, and a living room and a dining room, neither looking like it was in use. Upstairs was even worse. The air of neglect throughout the house was increased tenfold here. The rooms all seemed frozen in time, as if the inhabitants had just left that morning. Everything looked like it had been put down absently and never picked up again—a yellowing newspaper on a table, with the headline about D-Day splashed across the front page, a palmetto fan on a chair, an unfinished dress still in the machine in the sewing room, with a pair of fabric shears next to it. Only the thick, undisturbed layer of mold and dust over everything revealed the passage of time. This house hadn't been neglected in just the past two years; it had been in a slow decline for much, much longer than that.

The master bedroom and the nursery were the saddest of all. On the dressing table in the master bedroom, all the creams and powders and brushes were still laid out; the creams had gone dried and cracked, the powders becoming one with the dust, the bristles of the brushes missing. A woman's dressing gown was draped over the back of the chair. A pipe and a pair of glasses sat on the bedside table. It appeared that after his wife passed away, Dr. Grunauer had left her side of the room exactly as it had been, and when his son came home and found his father gone, he'd done the same for the other side.

The nursery, which was situated in a large, airy room at the back of the house with a bay window overlooking the swamp, was tidier, the bed showing signs of recent occupancy, but it was no less sad. The shelves were filled with toys—stuffed animals, their fur now patchy, a miniature sailboat with chipped paint and torn sails, a sun-faded globe—and books, hundreds of books. The door of the closet was left ajar, and when Alba opened it, she found the clothes inside were mostly for a boy, with only an open suitcase containing a few adult things. This must be Grunauer's old room. When he came back, he'd simply dropped the suitcase on the floor and gone on living in the same room he had since he was a child. It appeared to have been unchanged since he was ten years old. Where had the boy gone after that, and where had he been since?

But all these melancholy musings would not make the house clean. Alba shook herself free of them, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

***

Derwin put down his book when he realized he'd read the last five pages or so without retaining a single word. He'd been too busy listening to Miss Reyes. It had been so long since there was a sound in the house not made by him or Otto, that even the most ordinary noise now seemed fascinating to Derwin, and he listened to them as keenly as his father used to listen to the birdcalls and other animal noises of the swamps—the pitter-patter of her feet as she moved from room to room and lugged her cleaning supplies up and down the stairs, the swish-swish of her broom across the floor, the gentle sound of her voice as she talked to Otto while she worked. It was a distraction, but he found that he didn't mind it.

Which was a dangerous mindset to have, of course. He could not allow himself to get used to Miss Reyes. She was not here to stay. Depending on the quality of her work, she might be gone by the end of the week, or, in the best-case scenario—though best for her or for himself, he wasn't sure—she would only be around for a year or so. And then she would leave, just like everybody had left. His mother, his father, his fellow soldiers. Sometimes, Derwin wondered if he was cursed, and anybody who entered his life could only pass through briefly, like ships in the night, before leaving and never to be seen again.

So, yes, it would be dangerous to get used to Miss Reyes's presence.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from listening to her, taking comfort in the noises she made, wondering what she was doing at that moment. Then, to his confusion, he heard the front door open and close, and everything went quiet. After ten minutes of silence, Derwin picked up his cane, went into the hall, and looked out the front door. Miss Reyes's bike had disappeared from the porch.

Where had she gone?

He trudged upstairs. It appeared Miss Reyes had only started cleaning his old bedroom. She had stripped the bedding and the curtains and cleaned the windows. All the toys and books had been put neatly into some cardboard boxes she'd found God knew where, and the shelves had been dusted, though she hadn't swept the floor yet. Perhaps she'd forgotten something and gone to retrieve it—though it seemed unlikely, judging by the pile of supplies she'd brought. Or perhaps she'd found something horrifying amongst his old things and decided to flee.

Sitting down on the bare mattress, he looked over the room as if he was seeing for the first time. Since he came home, he'd slept here out of habit but never noticed how it looked. There were his old toys, the sailboat he and his father used to sail on a pond in the swamp, the stuffed dog he'd carried to bed until he left for boarding school. He flipped through the books, childhood favorites that he hadn't looked at for so long. Defoe, Stevenson, Verne, Dickens, Kipling, Twain. Books of poetry by Carroll, Wordsworth, Frost, and de la Mare, some too complex for his ten-year-old comprehension, but all had sparked a life-long passion. No, there was nothing here that would repulse a person. Perhaps she had simply been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of mess and given up.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Derwin's bewilderment and anger were replaced by despair. He'd tried to prepare himself for it, but the shortness of her stay was worse than he could have expected. She hadn't lasted even half a day. Had he done something to drive her off? Had he been too short with her, too cold, too irritable? He had no idea how he should've behaved.

He went down into the kitchen, though he knew there was nothing here that could give him a clue about Miss Reyes's departure. Otto was here, gnawing on a bone he'd found somewhere—Derwin prayed that it wasn't from some long-dead animal—and didn't seem too upset about the disappearance of a certain dark-haired young lady. Derwin sat down heavily at the table.

"It's just you and me again, boy," he said. Otto's tail gave a thump in acknowledgment.

Then the tail kept thumping, and Derwin realized Otto wasn't looking at him, but beyond him at the door. He turned around and saw Miss Reyes walking in through the back door, her arms laden with groceries.

At the sight of her, Derwin's heart gave a little jump, almost imperceptible, but any relief he'd felt at her return was immediately drowned out by his annoyance, annoyance at her for swanning off without a word, and most of all, annoyance at himself for caring so much.

"Where were you?" he asked with a scowl.

"I went grocery shopping," she said, like it was the most obvious thing. "I didn't think about it this morning, but when I came down to do the washing, I saw that the pantry and the fridge are kind of empty. There was nothing for lunch..." She trailed off, looking perplexed. "Are you angry with me?"

"You could've said something!" Derwin shouted. "I thought you'd left—I thought the work was too much for you and you'd left—or that you've changed your mind—or I've frightened you off somehow—" He hardly knew what he was saying.

She looked at him almost pityingly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize it would matter. You said not to disturb you," she said, and his irritation grew when he remembered that yes, he had indeed told her not to disturb him. She'd done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that he was jumpy as a jackrabbit and always came to the worst conclusions.

Without another word, he got to his feet and made his way to the study, where he found a blank notebook and a pencil. When he returned to the kitchen, Miss Reyes was still standing by the groceries, looking mystified and miserable.

"Here," he said, thrusting the notebook and pencil at her. "If you have a question or something to say to me, just put a note through the door of the study." She took them and tucked them into her pocket, still looking uncertain. He eyed the groceries. "And give me the bill. I'll pay you back."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said quickly. "It's for me as much as it's for you."

"Miss Reyes, if you're going to work for me, I'm not having you pay for your own lunch."

"So you agree to let me work here?" she said, her face brightening.

He'd spoken too soon. "Not yet," he replied, trying to scowl but failing. For some reason, it was impossible for him to maintain his annoyance when those green eyes were turned upon him.

"OK, I'll give you the bill." She tilted her head, studying him. Derwin suddenly felt like one of his father's reptiles. He looked away, avoiding her eyes.

"And next time, if something's running low, just tell me," he said. "I'll place an order at the store."

"Which store?"

"Wendell's."

She made a face. "They charge you an arm and a leg for delivery. And their produce isn't the freshest."

Derwin sighed. He knew his arrangements weren't ideal, but he had no choice. "What use do I have for fresh produce?" he said glumly. "I can't cook anyway."

"Well, you have me now," she said with a quick but bright smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Grunauer. I'm not going anywhere. The Reyes have never run away from anything, and I will certainly not be the first to do so. I'll have this house spick and span before you know it."

He nodded curtly and limped back to the study. About an hour later, the most mouthwatering smell wafted down the corridor, reaching all the way through the closed door of the study. It took all of Derwin's self-control not to run into the kitchen to see what feast Miss Reyes was cooking up—not that he could actually run. His stomach gurgled loudly. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a note was slipped through the bottom of the door.

Lunch is ready, it said. Would you like it in the dining room or the study?

Her handwriting was very clear and neat, without any unnecessary flourishes. Just like Miss Reyes herself.

The study is fine, he wrote back.

A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Derwin opened it to find a dish covered with a silver cloche—really, where does she find these things?—placed on a side table just next to the door.

Stuck to the cloche was another note, which said, ¡Buen Provecho! P/S: Once you finish eating, please put the dish on this table. I don't want an infestation of cockroaches to destroy all the lovely books you have in the study. Derwin's mouth quirked up in amusement, despite himself. Under the cloche, he found a piece of chicken, nicely browned, nestled in a bed of rice and vegetables. The chicken was so tender that it fell apart under his fork, the rice was soft and fluffy, and the vegetables sweet. It was, in short, the best meal he'd ever had.

Derwin was a little embarrassed that he'd scarfed down the chicken and rice in less than fifteen minutes. After waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass, he returned the dish to the table, with a note saying, Thank you. On second thoughts, he added, P/S: I'm sorry I shouted at you.

The response came with the rattling of the dish: It's OK. Those two simple words were enough, and Derwin breathed a little more easily.

The rest of the day was quiet. Miss Reyes continued to work diligently, tirelessly. Otto stuck to her like glue, and often Derwin would hear her footsteps being accompanied by the clicking of the dog's claws. Derwin was glad that the dog had found someone else to hang around with; he was well aware of how tedious his own company could be. Once, a movement in the backyard caught Derwin's attention through the window, and he looked up to see Miss Reyes hanging the washing on the lines, the sheets and curtains blowing about her like clouds. When she reached the end of a line, she lifted her head to look at the frangipani tree planted by his father at the edge of the yard, which was just beginning to put out its fragrant blooms, each looking like a little swirl of cloud containing a miniature sun at its center. A lock of her hair strayed out of her headscarf to dangle over her forehead. After trying to blow it out of her face several times without success, she pushed it back in place with an impatient but well-practiced movement, and returned to the washing. She didn't see him.

As the light outside grew dim and the sky glowed red through the cypresses' trunks, another note was pushed under the door.

I'm done for the day, the note said. There's leftover chicken in the oven for your dinner. Your room is clean, so you can sleep there again. See you tomorrow.

Derwin dragged himself out of the study and went back upstairs. Yes, she had cleaned the room. The bed was made with fresh sheets, smelling of frangipani and sunshine. Every toy, every book was back in its place. For a heartbeat, he was transported fifteen years back in time, when he was ten years old, when his mother was still alive. The only things that had been moved were his clothes—his current clothes, the few shirts and pants, his one good suit, and his dress shoes had been unpacked and hung up in the closet, while his childhood clothes were carefully put away in the suitcase.

Realizing he was still holding Miss Reyes' note in his hand, he contemplated it for a moment. See you tomorrow. Those three words put a smile on his face. Then, without really knowing why, he folded the note carefully and put it in the drawer of his bedside table.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @kitkat80

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Azula has made no progress since she was sent back to the asylum. Ty Lee believes she can help her, with proper disciple. Tyzula.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

CH4: Not Weak

Azula awoke in a cold sweat clutching her chest. She couldn't remember what her nightmare was about, only that she had been in grave danger. She cursed and shook her head. What a foolish notion, she had nothing to be afraid of. Fear was for the weak and she wasn't weak. Her father had made sure of that.

Her brow furrowed for a moment and she looked around the room. She had forgotten she wasn't in the asylum anymore. The soft patter of the rain outside was soothing. She glanced out the window. It was still dark out. She pulled back the sheets and crawled out of bed. The chain connected to the collar around her neck rattled behind her as she walked around the room. It was a decent length and she was surprised at how much of the room she could explore.

She couldn't reach the door obviously but she could press her forehead up against the glass off the window. She closed her eyes as she listened to the rain and her mind began to wander. She could probably use one of the pieces of furniture to break this window. It would be an easy way out. She opened her eyes again and sighed. Where would she go? From the limited information that trickled through the asylum it sounded like the Fire Warriors had disbanded, not that she would rejoin them anyway. They were unworthy of her leadership after all.

Starting a new group of strong loyal rebels would take time, energy, and money. All things she didn't have much of at the moment. She watched a couple beads of water run down the window. Plus she knew as soon as her escape was reported then that damn waterbender peasant would be after her. She clenched her fist. How could she have been so weak as to be captured by her again?

She pounded her fist against the window causing several of the droplets to merge and quickly roll down. She snorted softly.

"That's right. You better flee." She whispered before she turned around. Her eyes roamed around the room again before landing on a couple unlit candle stubs on a table. She walked over to them and took a deep breath. She focused as hard as she could and blew at them. No fire came out. Frustrated, she swept her arms across the table, scattering them to the floor. It wasn't enough though. She grabbed the table and flipped it over for good measure.

Being without her bending made her feel weak, like a cat owl without her claws. She huffed and strode back to her bed before sitting down. A firebender who couldn't bend was a disgrace. She grabbed fists full of her hair and pulled. Her father would never allow someone as shameful as her to continue living. She curled up and rolled onto her side. What would her father think if he saw her now? She grit her teeth as she fought a losing battle to maintain her composure.

He would kill her for this. He would… Azula let out a derisive laugh all of a sudden. He couldn't do anything. He was worse than her. He had lost his bending. She still had hers, even if it was temporarily blocked. She kept laughing. How dare her hypocrite of a father continue living when he was the epitome of weakness now?

"Azula?" Ty Lee rubbed her eyes as she entered the room. "I heard-" Her voice trailed off as she noticed the flipped table, the scattered candles, and Azula laughing manically as she remained curled up in a tight ball on her bed. Ty Lee ran a hand through her hair as she tried to figure out how best to approach this situation.

"Azula?" She asked again. Azula laughed louder.

"It's my duty as Firelord to beat the weakness out of my people and if I can't then they deserve to die!" She shouted. "Isn't that what you said? You can't even firebend anymore you weak worthless-!" Ty Lee grimaced and began to cautiously approach. Azula twisted suddenly to look at Ty Lee who froze midstep.

"You flinched!" Azula holdered, sounding enraged as she flung herself off the bed towards her.

"Azula no!" Ty Lee cursed as she was forced to parry a sudden onslaught of blows. She recovered quickly from the unexpected attack and aimed a few choice jabs in return. Azula fell to her knees breathing hard.

"I didn't flinch." She panted as she looked up at Ty Lee. "I wasn't weak." A twisted grin spread across her face. Ty Lee forced her face to remain calm and neutral. "You have to try to do it. I don't have to try at all."

"Azula." Ty Lee said, kneeling down in front of her and catching her eye.

"I'm not weak like you." She hissed. Ty Lee frowned and nodded.

"You're right." She said, reaching out slowly and taking Azula's hands in her own. Azula glared at her suspiciously. "Because you're the most beautiful, smartest, perfect girl in the world." She said gently. Azula looked incredibly confused as she blinked slowly.

"What?" Azula snapped.

"This is usually the part where you say I'm right." She said, raising an eyebrow. Azula opened her mouth then closed it.

"That may have been true once…" She said, pulling her hands away. "I mean, I am still beautiful."

"You always are." Ty Lee smiled and got back to her feet and held out a hand. Azula ignored it. "And someone as beautiful as you needs her beauty sleep." Ty Lee said encouragingly.

"I'm not weak." Azula whispered.

"You're not weak." Ty Lee agreed. Azula looked at her. "You're not."

"I'm strong." She hissed.

"Very strong." Ty Lee nodded.

"Prove it." Azula demanded. Ty Lee looked at her perplexed.

"How am I supposed to prove that you're-" She shook her head. "Nevermind." She touched the chain connected to Azula's collar. Azula bared her teeth but refused to move. "You're so strong," She said, letting the chain slip through her fingers, "that we need this, even without your firebending."

"This is merely an instrument of my imprisonment. How does it prove my strength?" Azula said, narrowing her eyes.

"Can you think of anyone else who needs these kinds of chains just to hold them?" Ty Lee asked. Azula considered it for a moment. Ty Lee waited and hid her amusement as a look of smugness spread across Azula's face.

"No, I can't think of any. I must be quite formidable." She said, inspecting them closer.

"You are." Ty Lee said, casually petting the top of Azula's head. Azula leaned into the contact without thinking. It had been years since someone touched her like this. "So strong." Ty Lee pulled her hand away.

"The strongest." Azula agreed as she grabbed her hand and pulled it back.

"So can we go back to bed?" Ty Lee asked as she glanced over to the window. It was still dark out. Azula followed her gaze.

"I suppose I will allow it." She said, finally getting to her feet.

"Great, I'll-" Ty Lee began but Azula had taken her hand and was dragging her back to bed with her. "Uh-!" She looked at the bed then Azula. "I thought you didn't want me on your bed?"

"I've decided to disregard your silly little boundaries." Azula said, waving a hand as she pulled Ty Lee onto the bed.

"It was your boundary…" Ty Lee muttered quietly as she sat down. Azula lay her head down in her lap.

"You may stay here as long as you continue admiring my hair." She said, taking her hand and placing it back on her head.

"Whatever you say Azula." Ty Lee said, smiling weakly as she resumed stroking her head gently. Azula made herself comfortable and closed her eyes. Her heart and mind were finally starting to calm.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Part 10:

Lydia says her goodbyes to the rest of the group. They hug her, wish her luck. They don't mention that they're ready for battle. That the molotovs are a normal accessory.

Nancy walks up to her.

"Are you sure about this?" Nancy asks.

"Yeah Aunt Nancy it'll be fine." She gives her a stern nod and heads over towards her parents.

"Ok kiddo, you ready?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Let's go."

---

They're in Steve's house. A house she's never seen before. She's looking around his room trying to learn everything she can about him through the small details scattered around. She's sitting on his bed cross-legged. Steve and Eddie sitting in chairs across from her.

"How should I do this?"

"Um...maybe just talk about your thoughts when you got here?"

"Ok so...when I woke up and the first thing I saw was Robin I thought 'oh normal' until I saw how young she looked, not that she looks that old now-"

"Lydia."

"Right sorry, nervous. When it set in what was going on I was filled with hope. I wanted to see you so bad. I hadn't talked to you since I was five and five years olds don't make good conversation. I believed in a second chance for just a minute. I thought when you saw me, you'd know me. You kind of did. You saw yourself in me I could see it on your face. I was so happy to see both of you again a part of me didn't care that you didn't know who I was. I was just happy to be in your presence."

Steve starts laughing.

"That's funny!" It's uncontrollable now. "Why would you think something so stupid."

Eddie tags along, "I raised you for twenty years alone and all you care about is him? You ungrateful, stupid, piece of-"

"Hello Henry," Lydia says calmly.

Steve looks at her with little shock on his face until his mouth unfurls into a nasty smile.

"Hello Lydia."

He grows, transforms into the monster she's heard so much about.

"Why have you taken an interest in me huh? Still tricking girls into doing what you want?"

He holds out an arm and her throat constricts. She's not in Steve's bedroom anymore she's in a vine covered room.

"Trick you? No. I'm here to help you. Just as you can help me."

Lydia scoffs.

He turns back into Eddie.

"Aw don't be like that munchkin~ don't you want to help dear old Pa hmm?"

"How dare you wear his face." There's fire in her eyes. It hurts to speak, hurts to breathe.

"I can help you you know? I can bring him back in your timeline."

"...how?"

"All I have to do...is hear a yes. Join me. Lend me your body and I can make you a family again."

She feels goosebumps run down her arms. That's the signal.

"Ok Henry. Deal."

-----

It hurts. It flows through her like lightning. It's the most pain she's ever been in. She's back in Steve's room but she's not in control. She can see everything from the back of her mind.

She can see Nancy pointing a gun at her. El has her hand raised and Steve and Eddie look confused. Good.

"What are you doing Nance? You're her family! Put the gun down! That's my daughter!"

"Not anymore Steve."

"We will stop you Henry," El says.

Vecna laughs evilly. "You silly humans think you could have beat me? I've taken the one you care for the most. You would never hurt this form and now I will turn it into a vessel of my own creation. I know your plan. I know anything she knows." He sounds off like their voices have merged. It's equally off pitch and there's vibrations with every word.

There's something wrong. Vecna knows. When he searched through her memories he was unable to see them all. Time travel is a crazy son of a bitch, and I'm sure the brain block El but in her head didn't help either.

He thought he'd win. He actually thought he'd succeed.

He finally realized what they've done. What's about to happen.

"No!" Vecna screams. "You fool!"

El rips out a scream. A gun goes off. The ceiling collapses.

She feels her body explode.

-----

Hours before the end:

"Can I speak to you?" Lydia asks Nancy.

Nancy nods at her, face serious.

They go to a private room away from everyone else.

"Aunt Nancy...when I was a kid you were the coolest person I ever met. I wanted to be you when I grew up. I know everything about you. You were a vital part in raising me."

Nancy looks surprised. "Ok? Why tell me now?"

"Because I know you so well, I need you to make the right decision. You're the only one I trust. My parents can't know."

"Ok."

"He has to possess me I have to be bait. The only wait they were able to beat him in my timeline is when he took on my dad's human form while the other people destroyed his physical body."

"We did that though with Max."

"No you don't understand he fully put himself into Steve's body. Leaving his physical body just a husk to be burned. He thought he could turn it into an impenetrable vessel. He didn't realize his powers wouldn't work. How weak the human body was...which brings me to my next point."

"What is it?"

"I need you to make sure I die."

"What?!"

"They're going to try to stop me. I know it's the only way. I'm taking my dad's place in this timeline. Someone has to die...why not let it be someone who didn't belong here to begin with."

Nancy's eyes well up with tears but she agrees. Brain over heart. Like Lydia knew she would be.

---

A primal scream rings through the house. Her dad's are screaming, holding her body. She wishes she can understand what's going on.

"He's gone!" Dustin shouts, trying to get them to let her go. "Maybe we can save her?" She doesn't know when he got there. That's good. It means their part is done. She's lost track of time. She's losing so much blood.

Oh. That's right. She's dying.

"It had to be done. I had to take your place. I won't make it." She coughs up some blood.

"NOOOO!" They're wailing. It hurts her ears. Don't they understand? They fixed it. They won. They should he happy.

"She's my daughter! You won't take her from me!"

"I just got her I'm not losing her!"

She can feel a tear drip down her face she doesn't know who it belongs to. She feels closer to her dad than ever before, she understands how he died now.

Her face is turned so she looks directly into their faces. They're red, tear stained, swollen. Mouths open in uncontrollable sob.

"Hey," she whispers. "It's ok."

"I'll see you again soon."

And she dies.

----

One chapter left! The epilogue...

Please comment!!!

Now complete!

Tag:

@tinyplanet95 @jaytriesstrangerthings @bookworm0690

[endofthe1980s]

every opening and ending to the ellis novels

Really long don't open that read more unless you want to see things.

less than zero

People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles.

There was a song I heard when I was in Los Angeles by a local group. The song was called "Los Angeles" and the words and images were so harsh and bitter that the song would reverberate in my mind for days. The images, I later found out, were personal and no one I knew shared them. The images I had were of people being driven mad by living in the city. Images of parents who were so hungry and unfulfilled that they ate their own children. Images of people, teenagers my own age, looking up from the asphalt and being blinded by the sun. These images stayed with me even after I left the city. Images so violent and malicious that they seemed to be my only point of reference for a long time afterwards. After I left.

the rules of attraction

and it's a story that might bore you but you don't have to listen, she told me, because she always knew it was going to be like that, and it was, she thinks, her first year, or, actually weekend, really a Friday, in September, at Camden, and this was three or four years ago, and she got so drunk that she ended up in bed, lost her virginity (late, she was eighteen) in Lorna Slavin's room, because she was a Freshman and had a roommate and Lorna was, she remembers, a Senior or a Junior and usually sometimes at her boyfriend's place off-campus, to who she thought was a Sophomore Ceramics major but who was actually either some guy from N.Y.U., a film student, and up in New Hampshire just for The Dressed To Get Screwed party, or a townie.

I saw a townie girl hitchhiking on the edge of town. She looked at me as I passed by. I made it to the end of town, then turned around in the parking lot of the A&P and picked her up. She was a little fat, but still blond and pretty. She was leaning against a lightpost, smoking a cigarette, a backpack at her feet. She lowered her arm as I pulled the car over. She smiled, then got in. I asked her where she was going. She mentioned some town but seemed unsure. She started telling me her life story, which wasn't very interesting, and when Rockpile came on singing "Heart" I had to turn it up, drowning out her voice, but still I turned to her, my eyes interested, a serious smile, nodding, my hand squeezing her knee, and she

american psycho

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE is scrawled in blood red lettering on the side of the Chemical Bank near the corner of Eleventh and First and is in print large enough to be seen from the backseat of the cab as it lurches forward in the traffic leaving Wall Street and just as Timothy Price notices the words a bus pulls up, the advertisement for Les Misérables on its side blocking his view, but Price who is with Pierce & Pierce and twenty-six doesn't seem to care because he tells the driver he will give him five dollars to turn up the radio, "Be My Baby" on WYNN, and the driver, black, not American, does so.

Someone has already taken out a Minolta cellular phone and called for a car, and then, when I’m not really listening, watching instead someone who looks remarkably like Marcus Halberstam paying a check, someone asks, simply, not in relation to anything, “Why?” and though I’m very proud that I have cold blood and that I can keep my nerve and do what I’m supposed to do, I catch something, then realize it: Why? and automatically answering, out of the blue, for no reason, just opening my mouth, words coming out, summarizing for the idiots: “Well, though I know I should have done that instead of not doing it, I’m twenty-seven for Christ sakes and this is, uh, how life presents itself in a bar or in a club in New York, maybe anywhere, at the end of the century and how people, you know, me, behave, and this is what being Patrick means to me, I guess, so, well, yup, uh …” and this is followed by a sigh, then a slight shrug and another sigh, and above one of the doors covered by red velvet drapes in Harry’s is a sign and on the sign in letters that match the drapes’ color are the words THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.

glamorama

“Specks—specks all over the third panel, see?—no, that one—the second one up from the floor and I wanted to point this out to someone yesterday but a photo shoot intervened and Yaki Nakamari or whatever the hell the designer’s name is —a master craftsman not—mistook me for someone else so I couldn’t register the complaint, but, gentlemen—and ladies—there they are: specks, annoying, tiny specks, and they don’t look accidental but like they were somehow done by a machine—so I don’t want a lot of description, just the story, streamlined, no frills, the lowdown: who, what, where, when and don’t leave out why, though I’m getting the distinct impression by the looks on your sorry faces that why won’t get answered—now, come on, god-dammit, what’s the story?”

I’m drinking a glass of water in the empty hotel bar at the Principe di Savoia and staring at the mural behind the bar and in the mural there is a giant mountain, a vast field spread out below it where villagers are celebrating in a field of long grass that blankets the mountain dotted with tall white flowers, and in the sky above the mountain it’s morning and the sun is spreading itself across the mural’s frame, burning over the small cliffs and the low-hanging clouds that encircle the mountain’s peak, and a bridge strung across a pass through the mountain will take you to any point beyond that you need to arrive at, because behind that mountain is a highway and along that highway are billboards with answers on them—who, what, where, when, why—and I’m falling forward but also moving up toward the mountain, my shadow looming against its jagged peaks, and I’m surging forward, ascending, sailing through dark clouds, rising up, a fiery wind propelling me, and soon it’s night and stars hang in the sky above the mountain, revolving as they burn. The stars are real. The future is that mountain.

lunar park

"You do an awfully good impression of yourself."

So, if you should see my son, tell him I say hello, be good, that I am thinking of him and that I know he's watching over me somewhere, and not to worry: that he can always find me here, whenever he wants, right here, my arms held out and waiting, in the pages, behind the covers, at the end of Lunar Park.

imperial bedrooms

They had made a movie about us. The movie was based on a book written by someone we knew. The book was a simple thing about four weeks in the city we grew up in and for the most part was an accurate portrayal. It was labeled fiction but only a few details had been altered and our names weren’t changed and there was nothing in it that hadn’t happened. For example, there actually had been a screening of a snuff film in that bedroom in Malibu on a January afternoon, and yes, I had walked out onto the deck overlooking the Pacific where the author tried to console me, assuring me that the screams of the children being tortured were faked, but he was smiling as he said this and I had to turn away. Other examples: my girlfriend had in fact run over a coyote in the canyons below Mulholland, and a Christmas Eve dinner at Chasen’s with my family that I had casually complained about to the author was faithfully rendered. And a twelve-year-old girl really had been gang-raped—I was in that room in West Hollywood with the writer, who in the book noted just a vague reluctance on my part and failed to accurately describe how I had actually felt that night—the desire, the shock, how afraid I was of the writer, a blond and isolated boy whom the girl I was dating had halfway fallen in love with. But the writer would never fully return her love because he was too lost in his own passivity to make the connection she needed from him, and so she had turned to me, but by then it was too late, and because the writer resented that she had turned to me I became the handsome and dazed narrator, incapable of love or kindness. That’s how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers. That’s how I became the boy who never understood how anything worked. That’s how I became the boy who wouldn’t save a friend. That’s how I became the boy who couldn’t love the girl.

There are many things Blair doesn’t get about me, so many things she ultimately overlooked, and things that she would never know, and there would always be a distance between us because there were too many shadows everywhere. Had she ever made promises to a faithless reflection in the mirror? Had she ever cried because she hated someone so much? Had she ever craved betrayal to the point where she pushed the crudest fantasies into reality, coming up with sequences that only she and nobody else could read, moving the game as you play it? Could she locate the moment she went dead inside? Does she remember the year it took to become that way? The fades, the dissolves, the rewritten scenes, all the things you wipe away—I now want to explain these things to her but I know I never will, the most important one being: I never liked anyone and I’m afraid of people.

the shards

Many years ago I realized that a book, a novel, is a dream that asks itself to be written in the same way we fall in love with someone: the dream becomes impossible to resist, there's nothing you can do about it, you finally give in and succumb even if your instincts tell you to run the other way because this could be, in the end, a dangerous game—someone will get hurt.

A week ago I saw a beige-colored van parked at the 7-Eleven on Holloway and La Cienga, next door to the Palihouse Hotel, where I first glimpsed Susan Reynolds after not seeing her for thirty-eight years, and whenever I see a similar van I connect it with the Trawler and his obsession over Robert Mallory and the fact that he was never captured—he had drifted to other states perhaps, beginning new narratives, staking out a different story, and sometimes I dream about Robert and in the dreams he's a different person that I meet up with in a vast hotel or an empty airplane, sometimes disguised as someone else, sometimes older, but mostly young, and staring at me fixed in that moment of his teenage beauty, a place where he would always reside—he would never age. And sometimes when I wake up from one of my dreams about Robert, or Matt, or Ryan Vaughn, or Thom, or Susan, I'm reminded that the fall of 1981 wasn't the dream that I sometimes pretended it was in the decades that followed. But I always slipped whenever I heard those faraway voices calling out to me, and I would find that record with the platinum-blonde girl on the cover, and turn the volume up, and play it loud, close my eyes and lie back and listen to a song about dreaming.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Oc content ya'll, finally something new, something different. I genuinely think I'm gonna write Kanami's story because I have that all planned out and I know and I see it in my head all the time, if yall want to read it let me know but this is the most creative I've felt in a while so... here's some of that. It's my OC Kanami X Kyojuro

“So where did you get all of this?” Kyojuro was unsteady on his feet, hand resting on the bandaging covering his stomach. His eyes trailed over all the trinkets lining the walls, small objects, a block painted in different colors, A few hair pins, a small pouch that looked full, and other unknown things. “People, friends, Ren” Kanami continued stirring the pot over the fire, the warm smell of the broth, hearty, fulfilling. Kyojuro could recognize his favorite Miso anywhere, and it had been years since he smelt it, just like it had been years since he had seen her, his love. Time had been kind to her, but it hadn’t at the same time. The crystal hue of her false limbs, her hair remained the same, maybe longer, and the white strands that framed her face had grown past her jawline. But her face, even with the added scars and the white eye, she looked the same. “You’ve really been here this whole time?” Kyojuro moved closer, cautious to get to her, as if she would fade if he got too close. “For the most part, took me a long time to build this place, so I lived with Takashi for a year and a half I think, in his home, in his space.” She set down her spoon, turning to face the man she had fought for, she had healed for, the one she had done everything to get back to. “And he’s the one that tr-“ “Trained me, yeah. When an enchanter merges back with their soul you can feel the fluctuation of power, I’ve felt it many times before. Often times though it’s met with an instant dissipation of that power, the complete ending of life. Demons always finish the job, never giving you time to recover. I got lucky, the sun was on my side” She gave him a wry smile, unsure how to proceed, unsure if she was even ready to unpack everything that had happened in the four years since she had seen Kyojuro. He had grown, he stood straighter, and it was obvious he had worked hard, the scars that lined the well-trained muscles of his body were evidence of it. He had an aura of greatness that she always knew he would get to; he could do anything he wanted. There was a silence between them, it was the first time he had gotten out of bed, the first time they had had a proper conversation. She promised Shinobu that she would hide him and help him heal, maybe he would be a slayer again, but that was all. She made the promise in front of all the hashira, new and old, but it was a promise to the corps, not a promise to the man she loved. “You look…” He paused, eyes running over the crystal that took the form of her left side, the shape of her moving arm and leg but a haunting blue that glowed in the sunlight. The dress she wore was short, stopping halfway down her thighs, and did nothing to hide the ways her body had matured, the shape of her, the size of her. “Different, undead, a monster. Yeah, I’ve been told” A sarcastic laugh spilled from her lips, the scars that he remembered still stretching with her smile, three lines like someone tried to pull the side of her face, so much like Sanemi yet so much more like her. “Beautiful, that’s what I was going to say” He was leaning on the small table, the sharp corner digging into his thighs that he paid no mind to, only focused on the way she seemed to be visibly processing his words, eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering in disbelief. “You’ve changed, of course, we all have. Kanami, you are still you. The same woman I’ve always known” She had folded in on herself, arms crossing over her chest as her fingers dug into her arms, holding herself. “Kyojuro” She let out a shaky breath, unsure, scared for the first time since the night she died for the first time.

[uglypastels]

For the spotify thing

Eddie Munson friends to lovers smut. I'm a sucker for idiots in love lol

Watermelon Sugar (or if that has been taken Carolina would also be great because who wouldn't swoon at Eddie calling them a good girl)

- @eddiesprincess86

ok so I got another request, "for the spotify wrapped event can you do carolina with eddie munson? 🫶🏻" so I guess I'm killing two birds with one stone doing this one. i had this idea and it turned into... I'm not sure what this is but I'm vibing and i hope its fun. (i know you requested smut, and I'm sorry I didn't include it, sorry </3)

no explicit warnings. reference to drugs and alcohol, no consumption tho

Spotify Wrapped Blurb event > send in a request! (masterlist)

You knew you were in trouble when his eyes met yours across the room. Trying not to pay him too much attention, putting your anxieties aside, you put all your focus on the people around you. Join in on the conversation. Pretend as if you belong. 

But no matter how well you merged in with the crowd, he could tell. After all, it was his album release party you were crashing. 

To your surprise, he didn’t call for security. Instead, he walked over to you, drink in hand. Leaning against the bar, he asked away from everyone else: ‘Now, how did you get in here, sweetheart?’ 

‘Sorry?’ you gave a shot at playing dumb, but it didn’t fool him. 

‘How did you get in?’ He asked a bit louder, not sternly or with anger, just to get his voice above the music. He was amused. ‘Bribed the guards, did we?’ 

‘I have my ways.’ Was all you said, looking up at him from above your crystal glass. At this point, you knew you were safe. He wasn’t going to do anything. 

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, so you told him. Then he tried to introduce himself: ‘I’m Eddie.’  

‘I know,’ you stated it. Of course, you knew him. Not even because you were a huge fan of his music. But everyone knew the lead singer of Corroded Coffin… whether they wanted to or not. 

You took another sip of your drink. Neat whisky. Eddie watched the liquid drain out of the glass, expecting you to flinch from the burn of it, yet being heavily disappointed. ‘Don’t worry,’ you assured him, ‘I can handle a bit of fun.’ And you certainly held up to that promise. 

Eddie barely left your side that night. To this day, he jokes about how it was for the sake of safety that he was just keeping an eye on you. “Damage control” or “making sure you didn’t steal anything”. 

Yes, years went by, and somehow your lives merged. Some would call it friendship. Any time you had the chance to see each other, which was a rare occurrence considering Eddie's busy rockstar lifestyle (that you constantly teased him about, naturally), you were at each other’s side. Most often, that meant that you would meet him at the studio when the band was recording. It was one of those days, but slightly different. 

You had never seen the guys be this distraught. The worst possible thing had happened— writer’s block. 

The instruments were left astray as all four band members were losing hope of their new record. Eddie still had his guitar on his lap but had stopped torturing himself by playing one failed riff after another. 

When they were in their “thinking zone”, you always made sure not to interrupt, not wanting to accidentally stop the creative juices from flowing, but seeing them torture themselves like this… you couldn’t do it. So, you got up and announced it was time for a break. 

‘We don’t need a break, we need ideas,’ Eddie groaned, spinning around in his chair, head hung back so he could stare up at the ceiling. 

‘Who knows, maybe some tacos will be the muse you have been looking for, now c’mon,’ you pulled his arm as hard as you could, but in the end, it was his own free will to get up that got Eddie moving. You dragged him to the kitchen, where the rest of the band had already assembled. ‘The tacos might have been a bad idea,’ you said once you realised there really was not enough food in the house to cook. ‘But– oh fuck,’ you opened a cupboard just to be greeted with an avalanche of pots. Before the stainless steel hit you in the face, Gareth caught the biggest pot just in time, stopping everything else from falling– minus one lid that made an incredible ruckus, possibly heard through the entire neighbourhood. 

‘Is it just me or did that sound kind of good,’ Gareth hit the lid again, looking up at the rest of the band. 

‘Did you take something? How many times did I tell you guys, don’t fucking trip before–’ 

‘No I’m not high, asshole,’ Gareth called Eddie out. ‘Just– wait.’ He searched around frantically through the other drawers before finding a large wooden spoon and banging it across the pan that almost knocked one of your teeth out a minute before. ‘Imagine this as, like, a backing track.’ It was a hollow metal sound. Not very melodic, but loud. Gareth kept on slamming the spoon on the pot like a maniac as the rest of the band looked at him as you watched them from the side. Seeing them at work was always fascinating, but this… well, this was one for the history books, especially when Gareth grabbed another pan and started to figure out how to use the different utensils to make different sounds. 

‘Fuck, man.’ Eddie sighed, his hand rubbing out the stress from his face, ‘i hate how good that sounds.’ Oh yeah, he was getting ideas. Or perhaps not, because the next thing you know, the lead of the band leaves the kitchen. There is an awkward pause where none of you know what to do until Eddie comes back, guitar on his shoulder. 

‘Do that shit again,’ he tells Gareth. 

‘Please, no need for such formalities.’ Gareth rolls his eyes but resumes his little kitchen orchestra. Eddie listens intently before strumming his first chord; slowly, he builds on it.  

And not just a melody. He’s humming. Words started to appear from the soft humming, and before you knew it, he sang a whole verse– more or less. It was still very much a work in progress, so most of the lyrics were half-mumbled as he still was figuring out the perfect phrasing.

‘Where did that come from?’ you asked, stunned at how easily the words came to him. The writer’s block from before seemed to have disappeared entirely. 

‘Just something I kept on the back log.’ He said, not fazed much. ‘Work in progress.’

‘I like it,’ you said. Not that it mattered much. You were merely an invited spectator in these sessions, but surely some praise could always be somewhat appreciated from time to time. Eddie seemed to think so, at least, as he smiled sheepishly, glancing down at his guitar. He never needed to look at the strings as he played anymore, and yet now he couldn’t look away from the instrument. 

‘Does this mean that we have to write all our songs in the kitchen from now on?’ Jeff quipped. 

‘Oh, god no, it smells here of old take-out.’ Eddie commented. ‘Just grab what you need, and we can finish this up… if you guys are into it.’ There were no objections to the plan, so you quickly helped Gareth bring all the pots and pans into the living room, where they had all their writing stuff set up. 

The next few hours were spent figuring out how to incorporate everything they wanted into something coherent, but unfortunately, nothing seemed to work anymore. Maybe the kitchen was the best place to work, after all? 

‘This isn’t working,’ Eddie was about to pull his hair out. ‘We can’t do it all at the same time.’ but at the same time, to remove any of the elements they had come up with would completely change the song, which they were not prepared to do. One thing you learned about the band: they were some of the most talented and most stubborn mutherfuckers in the industry. Once they had their mind set on something, there was no going back. So the damn pans would stay, and they would sound amazing. No matter the cost. 

There was a long silence, the longest that had occurred since the morning, as everyone in the room tried to think of some solution. It felt silly, but even you tried to think of something, just wanting to help out. 

Eddie called out your name almost as if he could read your mind. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’ You got up from your chair, awaiting further instructions, but those were directed at Gareth. ‘Show her how to hit the beat.’

‘What?’ you asked, confused. Last time you checked, you had no musical bone in your body, and you were just here for moral support and to make sure the guys didn’t kill each other or themselves out of frustration (let’s be honest, mostly Eddie. He could be quite a lot to handle sometimes). 

‘We need more hands on deck if we want to make this work now.’ 

And that’s how you played a very simple beat on the drums for the band. It was enough for now, as they got through the rest of the writing. It was pretty fun, but you did still manage to mess up a few times. No one gave you a hard time for it. All they focused on was the stuff you did manage to do. It was Eddie’s turn to praise you at one moment when you got through the entire song without any mistakes.

Taking a small break, he came up to you as the rest of the band had gone off to do their things for a moment. 

‘Thanks for helping us out.’ 

‘Pretty sure I’m doing more damage than good,’ you laughed. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for me to hit the pans?’ 

‘It’s Gareth’s vision, so unless you’re prepared to get into all that…’ he smiled, ‘but you’re doing great.’ 

‘True, just don’t get angry if I keep messing up.’ 

‘I would never.’ Eddie fake pouted, ‘not at my good girl.’ the words branded you from the inside, sparking up something that froze you for a moment. When you looked back up at him, Eddie had a wide smirk on his lips. Jeff had just walked back into the room carrying a beer, so Eddie leaned in closer to you to keep your conversation private. ‘Besides, seeing you hit it like that, it’s kind of hot.’ 

‘Shut up,’ you dug your elbow into his ribs playfully. 

‘That won’t be possible, I’m afraid.’ Eddie said, and he was right, since you still had a few hours of work ahead of you before the band called it a night. The house they were using to write at was rented, with enough rooms for all the band members to have their own, so once sleep called, they all disappeared behind their doors, leaving you and Eddie alone. 

‘Next time, I promise we’ll go somewhere. Just us.’ He huffed out, and sunk back into the couch. 

‘Oh, I had fun.’  You smiled, sitting down next to him. 

‘And I’m glad, but I would much rather spend my time with you and actually being with you.’ 

‘Next time then,’ you agreed to his earlier promise. ‘But I’m happy to see you guys managed to get out of that writer’s block.’ 

‘Yeah, it was… something. I’m still not sure about it all. What do you think?’ Eddie lazily pulled you into his lap, placing his chin on your shoulder. 

‘It’s great. Well, the pots and pans strategy is for sure…  interesting but I think you guys have something amazing brewing here. I just…’ you bit the inside of your cheek. 

‘What?’ He sounded so tired. The long day was finally draining him out. 

‘I just… can’t help but think some of it sounds a bit familiar.’ You quickly clarified: ‘some of the lyrics, especially the one about sneaking into parties, the drinking, the…. Other stuff.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The little kiss he left on your arm sent a shock through your body. 

‘No, of course not. Maybe it’s just deja vu or something.’ 

‘Must be.’ 

‘Mhm,’ you agreed, and yet couldn’t help but giggle at the idea of Eddie having a song in his back pocket about the day you met. 

thank you so much for reading!! please let me know what you thought and don't be shy to comment and reblog <3 or leave an anonymous review behind here :)

eddie taglist:

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @niyahwhoreworld @chatnoirfangirl1624 @fopdoodle1624 @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @ssanjuniperoo @nxrdamp @meaganjm @yourmommilf @mischiefmanagers @roseyykris @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @sleeping-willlow @lizzylynch1 @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-blog @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @the-a-word-2214 @eddiemunsonbby @wh0re4munson @eddiesdingus @zoeyquinn94 @munsonmunchies @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @groupies-do-it-better @stitchity @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @witchyrivers @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

[frogzzai]

Pure

Overhaul x Quirkless!Reader

Send in requests I have no motivation :'( (I write for MHA, Creepypasta, Slashers, Demon Slayer, JJK, Harry Potter, Rick and Morty, Fantastic Beasts, Winx)

Warnings: Abuse (from family), Bullying, no pronouns mentioned/ no appearance or description of reader mentioned (I don't think?)

Being quirkless in this world wasn't easy, you were part of the minority of the population which led to all sorts of bullying. You weren't really sure why, the only life this effected was yours. You've endured this all your life so you didn't often let comments get to you, but everyone has moments of weakness.

Today had been a particularly nasty day with people bugging you left right and centre, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep it off, although, you knew that wouldn't happen straight away. Both your parents were well respected heroes, with powerful quirks. The rest of your siblings and most of your extended family had pro hero-worthy quirks. Except you. You were the anomaly, the one who brought shame to your bloodline. For a while, after realising you didn't have a quirk, your parents tried to keep it away from the publics eye, not wishing for their reputation to be ruined. See, your parents were the sort of 'heroes' who were only in it for the money. They didn't really care about saving others, that's why they had no problem berating you on the daily and getting physical.

This is why you decided to take an alternative route home, not sure if you'd bother going back at all. After a while, you realised you were lost. You had only just moved over to Japan, the hero payouts being higher here then back in your home country. You still weren't fluent in Japanese, yet you could hold a basic conversation. Reading still proved difficult, and so you couldn't use signs to help you navigate. Wanting to test your luck, and get to somewhere you were familiar with, you went up behind a group of girls.

'Excuse me, where am I?' You said, you didn't mean to phrase it like you'd never been to Japan before but you couldn't do detailed sentences.

The girls turned around and, to your horror, turned out to be some of the ringleaders of your bullying problem.

'Oh, what's that? Don't tell me you're stupid as well as quirkless. What are you doing here anyway? This is my neighborhood and I don't want you plaguing it. Quirkless people are useless, what are you going to do in life? Almost every job requires a quirk and even if you managed to get one, you couldn't hope to get paid higher than minimum wage.' The middle one sneered.

'Please, I only asked for d-di-d-,' You panicked, forgetting the translation of direction.

'D-d-d-, cat got your tongue? You can't even speak Japanese properly. You really are useless!' Your mistake seemed to humor the girl as she held up her hand. 'Why don't I show you what your missing out on?' Her fingers merged together and changed into a massive claw. Instead of standing there like an idiot, you made a run for it. Just because you were quirkless, didn't mean you couldn't read the room.

You made it down a few blocks before your legs were taken out by some sort of spinning wheel, possibly another one of their quirks.

'You really thought you'd get far, huh?' The girl with the claw laughed and took your arm. She lightly scraped your arm before slicing it right down the middle, a scream ripped from your throat, or at least tried to. You voice was completely gone, the last quirk? You've already seen two, this must be the third. No matter how much you tried, no sound would come out. They shoved you up against the wall and you sort of slumped against it. It looked like she was about to strike again, but it looked like she had a second thought. Her and her goons took their leave. More like legged it, a hero? An officer? You didn't bother to get up, just sat their, head leaning to the side, zoning in and out repeatedly.

Someone stood in front of you. The one thing that stood out was his shoes. They were oddly clean, like he'd put them on for the purpose of standing before you. He got down on one knee to get a better look. You flicked your eyes over to him, he had really pretty irises. They were a nice shade of gold, certainly unique. His plague mask freaked you out a bit but you didn't think on it much, could be down to allergies. You knew you looked awful, your eyes must've been puffy and red from crying and your arm looked awful. You weren't the prettiest sight at the moment but you weren't too sure if that's what had him looking so disgusted.

'You couldn't defend yourself? Those quirks were pathetic.' He said, mocking you. Clearly unaware of your situation.

You weren't too sure how to respond to that, but, you decided to bite the bullet and come clean. Not sure how to form the sentence, you simply uttered, 'Quirkless.'

His eyes widened a bit as realisation dawned on him. He took your arm, the one that wasn't injured, and pulled you up with him, taking you with him. You didn't bother to fucus on your surroundings, just basking in the fact you hadn't ended up with more injuries. The next time you brought yourself back to reality you were in the cleanest med bay you had ever seen. You couldn't see anything that would make it imperfect. The odd thing about this was, there were no other patients, and it was dead silent. The man that you'd seen earlier was standing over you.

'Are you really quirkless?'

You nodded, not feeling all too talkative. He seemed content with that though, and gently straightened out your injured arm, you winced a bit. He noticed this but couldn't do much to help you, as he began cleaning and disinfecting the wound. Despite the burning pain, you kept quiet, still not sure if he was a friend or foe. Once the wound was steralised he wrapped it up, not too loose and not too tight. He must be a trained doctor then?

You looked up and took him in properly for the first time. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find him attractive. Although, you had to admit the colour contrast on his coat didn't do him any favours.

'You're not from around here, are you?' He asked.

You were startled by his question, and gave him a weary look.

'I mean, you didn't seem like you knew the place very well when I found you. You were looking around as if searching for a familiar face when those girls had you pinned.' His words were difficult to understand, he spoke at a decent pace yet his sentences were complicated to you, and drawn out. You took out the words you did know and tried to translate what he said. You assumed he was asking if you knew where you were, or something along the lines.

'No. I live a few blocks over. I only recently moved here, I'm not from Japan.' You said.

'That explains your way of speaking, your sentences are short and basic.' He pondered, you knew he didn't mean it like this, yet you couldn't help but feel degraded. You tried your best learning Japanese but it was difficult, especially when you moved here without any knowledge of the language whatsoever. He seemed to notice your crestfallen look and apologized, sitting down beside you. He put an arm round your shoulders and gently rubbed his thumb up and down.

'Why have you been so nice to me? Do you normally pick up injured strangers from the street, is this a long drawn out plan to murder me?'

He chuckled a bit, amused by how serious you sounded. 'No, I helped you because you aren't sick. You aren't riddled with the disease people have normalized. You don't have a quirk, you're pure.'

[seradyn]

A Dream Come True (Chp. 11)

Finally, after 6 months

Chapter 11/35: A Daring Dance For Two

Date time with our daemon man. Get ready for long conversations and some backstory for our reader 😌

Extra long to make up for the back to back hiatuses >.<

Link to work Masterlist

Word Count: 11,052

TW: Childhood trauma

Tags: @savage-rhi @blossom-adventures @ticklemycucumber

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in updates

———————————————————————

The library looked dark, decrepit when it was closed. There was no light coming from the overhead windows, no welcoming gust of warm air to greet you. Closing was one of your least favorite parts of the job, but it was a necessity. You tugged on the front door’s handles experimentally and, of course, the lock held without much effort. Satisfied, you dropped the keys into your bag, turning your back to the old, withered building.

You shivered into your coat, the kiss of winter’s breath turning the tip of your nose red. The temperature was only continuing to drop, much to your dismay. The frosty wind sunk deeply into your clothes, cutting through them like jelly. The pinpricks on your skin had you rushing to find warmth someplace else.

“Ah, there she is. And here I thought you’d keep me waiting.”

You paused, smiling at the teasing voice. You’d almost forgotten. Turning, you found the owner a short distance away.

Ardyn was leaning against one of the great pillars holding up the awning, head tilted down and arms crossed, one leg laced over the other. You could see he still wore that smug, sly expression, directed at the ground with lidded eyes, as if it had been bold enough to comment on the soles of his boots.

You shook your head at him. “I’m sorry,” you said, wondering how long he’d been standing there. “They don’t like to let me off easy.”

He looked up then, his calculating, omnipotent eyes drinking in your form. They, too, held that smirk just as well as his lips.

“I only jest,” he reassured. He pushed off from the pillar, beckoning you after him with a wave of his hand. “Come, my dear. I’ve parked just around the corner.”

You fell into step at his side, a brisk pace to keep up with his longer strides. You stole a breath of the sweet tinge of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. You wondered how much it cost; probably more than your biweekly paycheck.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, keeping up as he took a sharp left down the block, passing the startled faces of the sparse citizenry, who gave a wide berth in their chancellor’s wake.

“Ah, ah,” Ardyn tutted. “That would spoil the surprise.”

“Oh, a surprise?” You asked in wonder, smiling at the thought. You were already curious about what he had in store for you, but now you were even more so.

Ardyn returned your excitement with a grin of his own. “I think you’ll find it quite to your liking.”

“Is that so?” You said playfully, throwing him one of your own smirks.

“Consider it a guarantee,” he purred, grinning in a way that told you his confidence was not merely for show. He took the lead as you came up on a row of neatly parked cars at the end of the street.

You had to swallow a giggle when you saw which car he gravitated to, swinging open the passenger door for you. It certainly suited its owner, just as ardent as he was. A convertible colored dark maroon, much like Ardyn’s hair, with a white race stripe down the middle. A moogle pom pom had been stuck on the antenna, making the vehicle look almost comically whimsical. The top was down, revealing wine colored upholstery to match the paint job.

“Your chariot, my dear,” he hummed as you approached his car.

“Ever the gentleman,” you replied, settling into the red leather seat, the door slamming closed behind you. You paused, closing your eyes in a deep, silent sigh while his scent swallowed you whole, taking you captive with near overwhelming sweetness. Another wave of it washed over you as Ardyn took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life not long after. Soon, you’d merged into traffic, and the library disappeared into the rear view mirror.

A comfortable silence filled the car, the wind whipping through your hair as you were enraptured by the sights that passed you by in a blur, one of restless crowds and neon signs. Each one an invitation, a trap laid simply, only willing to release those from their clutches whose purses had been emptied. You hadn’t the gil to entertain those desires, so you hadn’t seen much of Gralea’s famed nightlife, save for the trip you’d recently taken in its shadows. Even that had been different; most of it had died down by then. Now, you had a chance to experience it in its purest form, with someone who was undoubtedly versed in its culture. It almost felt like going to another country.

Meanwhile, Ardyn was humming away beside you, carefree as he drove you to his ‘surprise’. You smiled even wider when you recognized it as the song associated with the bright yellow birds you adored. You hadn’t taken Ardyn as a chocobo person, but the thought had you biting your tongue to stop yourself from giggling. This was the man you were afraid of not three days ago?

Perhaps there was hope for you yet.

Soon enough, it seemed Ardyn got bored of silence, and decided to fill it with his own voice instead.

“So, tell me,” He began, the words beckoning your attention away from the view. “How long have you been looking after Gralea’s biggest library?”

“Oh, only a few years,” you said, surprised by his interest. “Got recruited right out of college, and I’ve been there since. This’ll be my fourth year working there.”

“Truly? It seems I’ve been missing out, locked in my ivory tower. Tragic, really.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, looking back out the lowered window so he couldn’t see you blushing. “I’m sure I’m no better than the last one. Besides, we can’t change the past,” you said honestly. “There’s no use in worrying about it.”

“Indeed we can’t,” Ardyn said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We are simply forced to live with the consequences.”

You looked back at him after hearing the last word, the creeping darkness that had seeped into it just below the surface. The corner of his mouth twitched, his smile becoming strained as his grip around the wheel tightened. Though it wasn’t long before he remembered to compose himself, those brief emotions tucked away, for now.

Even though he didn’t say it, you knew you’d struck some kind of nerve. A stab of guilt creeped into your heart; you hadn’t meant to upset him. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, he interrupted you, smirking as the car slowed.

“Ah, here we are,” Ardyn murmured, pulling his car in front of a building that stretched far into the sky. Deciding to let the previous exchange go, you gazed up at it as the engine died, wondering how many floors there were. A million, you thought in hyperbole, unclasping your seatbelt as Ardyn departed from his vehicle. Before you could even reach for the handle, he was there, opening the door for you and holding out his hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you said as you placed your hand in his, his fingers curling delicately around your own. He gracefully pulled you onto the sidewalk, looking down at you with fond, half lidded eyes, your door falling closed behind you with a thud.

“Of course, my dearest,” he cooed, releasing your hand and offering up his arm in its place. You looked between him and it for a moment, before you snickered at his gentlemanly nature. You wrapped your hands around his strong forearm, and he began to lead you towards the looming skyscraper.

Between you and said building, a sizable crowd was loitering, the atmosphere filled with an energetic buzz that was almost suffocating. The street was awash with their laughter and conversations, made more boisterous as some teased drunkenness, booze flowing freely from somewhere unseen.

Not your type of people, if you were being honest, but usually you weren’t one to let such things bother you.

Usually.

It was as you got closer you realized how much different you were to these people. Not just in mannerism; it was obvious in something as simple as your state of dress. You weren’t someone who was big on expensive designer products, but even you could name some of the brands their garments oozed. Not only that, but there seemed to be only two options among them when it came to outfits; freshly pressed suits, or flowing, iridescent gowns. There was no in between, not a hint of anything casual to be found.

And you’d just come from work. You were in street clothes.

Being led towards the gathering by the imperial chancellor no less.

Your arrival hasn’t gone unnoticed, either. It didn’t surprise you that the chancellor’s presence was one to turn heads, but that fact was slightly more mortifying when you were practically hanging off him. Your eyes flicked from face to face, watching the raised eyebrows, the bewildered stares when they saw Ardyn’s company, no doubt questioning his choice of companionship. You wondered how truely low their opinion was of you, when they didn’t even have to pause their conversations to pass silent judgment.

You huddled closer to Ardyn, trying to find some semblance of comfort in his presence, even while he seemed none the wiser to their scrutiny.

“Are you…sure this is okay?” You asked meekly, staring out at the high class gathering around you. You wondered if it would tarnish his reputation, being seen with someone so much lower than him, even if he didn’t believe that himself. Surely word would get out he’d been seen with someone like you.

Ardyn, whom you would’ve considered observant before, seemed completely oblivious to the weird looks the two of you were getting. He rather appeared quite jovial, smirking at nothing in particular, like he’d been welcomed with a standing ovation.

“Hmm?” He hummed happily, an eyebrow going up at your question. “Is there a problem, my dear?”

“N-no, it’s just - ” you looked at the ground in shame, fearing your woe sounded juvenile. Your social anxiety was bad enough with Ardyn alone, but in crowds, being the center of attention made you want to jump out of your own skin. You just hoped you weren’t embarrassing him. “I’m not exactly…well dressed for the occasion.”

Ardyn hummed again, looking out at the gathering as if just now noticing them. Something darkened his features, sinister and wicked, as he continued to smile while locking eyes with the boldest of the bunch. A silent challenge for them to dare question whose company he chose to share.

The nobles all quickly looked away, smart enough to fear the chancellor’s wrath.

“Should there be any…complaints,” his lips curled even higher, making him almost look malicious. “I shall deal with them personally.”

You had no idea what he meant by that, but you heard the seriousness in his voice. He wasn’t bluffing. Knowing he was willing to stand up for you, you eased out a tense breath, nodding in thanks.

The people standing close to the glass double doors scurried away as you reached the building, Ardyn opening them so you could both enter. Your muscles relaxed when you were finally out from under the noble’s unabashed prying eyes.

Which didn’t last long, unfortunately. The inside wasn’t much different from the outside. A dark restaurant laid out before you, undoubtedly where the outside patrons had gotten their drinks. Standing tables littered the room, there wasn’t a chair in sight. It reminded you of the cocktail parties you’d seen on TV.

You’d never actually been to one of those.

The bar was taking up the entirety of the left wall. Bottles of all different colors and shapes decorated it, the glass reflecting the orange glow of the dim ceiling lamps. They were completely swamped by the looks of it, there weren’t any open stools. To make it worse for the staff, the people in here matched the ones outside; dressed nicely, and making enough noise to drown out the decades-old music that was playing overhead. You watched the wait staff as they darted around skillfully, only stopping to place drinks or small plates of food down before whisking away to the next table.

You hoped they got good tips.

You figured this restaurant was the reason Ardyn brought you here, but he didn’t even flinch as he led you past it all, heading for an elevator in the very back you hadn’t seen before. Without a word, he pressed the ‘up’ button, grinning at the slight look of confusion on your face.

The elevator slid open with a cheerful ding, and Ardyn ushered you on. It was empty, much to your relief, meaning you wouldn’t be pressed up against him. He pushed a button for a high floor, something in the 60’s, ascending as soon as the door closed again.

Awkward silences were becoming a common thing between the two of you, and the slow, jazzy elevator music only made it worse. Your fingers instinctively flexed around Ardyn’s arm, your breathing sounded deafening in your ears as anxiety began to spin its web around your heart. You should’ve been excited, but what had transpired outside left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn’t help feeling you didn’t belong. You could only imagine the place Ardyn was taking you had the same kind of clientele, their judgeful eyes seeing you as an easy target. An entire meal feeling like an insect under a microscope sounded miserable.

Something brushed over the top of your knuckles, pulling you back to reality. Looking down, you watched as Ardyn rested his free hand atop your own, giving your fingers a light squeeze of reassurance.

“You needn’t be so nervous,” he said quietly. Soothingly. “You’ve nothing to prove to me.”

You were silent for a moment, the gentleness in his voice pulling your gaze upward. He was smiling at you. Softly, sweetly…like he cared.

“All I ask is that you be yourself.”

Heh. Yourself.

When was the last time you were yourself?

Not since you were little, you realized. And what a sad thought that was.

Did you even know who you really were anymore?

Not really. It had been beaten out of you long ago. Your parents used it as an excuse to abuse you, your friends an excuse to exclude you. You’d decided it was better to keep it under lock and key, keep it hidden and guarded. Even someone as close to you as Satus could only say he saw part of it. It’d been years, but those wounds were still red and swollen.

In its place, you became an expert at crafting masks. If one friend group wanted you to act one way, you could, and another for a different group. If your parents expected you to be their pauper princess, then you could be so, to an extent. If your best friend said something you didn’t agree with, you found it hard to voice a dispute.

The poisonous flower of rejection had festered for years, building a cage of weaving roots around what you might call yourself.

And some part of you didn’t think you were wholly undeserving of those lashes.

You blinked, the memories causing your eyes to go misty. You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering how long you’d been struggling with Ardyn’s statement. He was still waiting. Patiently, his gentle smile never left his face as he waited for an answer. His tolerance was surprising.

Perhaps…Ardyn was different. Maybe his request didn’t come with concealed expectations.

That was enough to give you a sliver of hope.

“…Okay,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I’ll…try.”

Arden nodded approvingly, giving your hand another squeeze. “That’s all I can ask.”

The rest of the elevator ride was in silence, both of you watching the glowing red numbers above the door count up.

While you hoped you weren’t getting too ahead of yourself…

The elevator dinged again, announcing that you'd arrived, the numbers now reading 64. The doors slid open, Ardyn stepping out with you as soon as they finished.

It was much brighter up here, which you appreciated. Ornate chandeliers dangled from a high ceiling, reflecting off the marble tiles and glass windows. The center of the room had been cut away, allowing you to see down into the lower floors between bars of railing. As you got closer to the edge, you could make out people scurrying around like little worker bees.

Your destination appeared to be along the far wall though, if the long line of people was any indication. Indeed, Ardyn leisurely steered you in that direction, allowing you to take in your surroundings. It was another dimly lit restaurant by the looks of it, although you couldn’t see far inside through the crowd. You just hoped you’d have some illusion of privacy while you dined.

Ardyn breezed past the line, which surprised you at first, before you remembered exactly who you were with. No one would dare make the imperial chancellor wait in a line, of all things. Commoner as you were, it felt quite strange to you, wrong somehow, but you knew it wasn’t your place to say anything. Best to just follow in Ardyn’s lead.

At the threshold, you were finally able to spot a sign displaying the restaurant’s name. When you read it, a small gasp parted your lips.

La Compañera. One of the best, and most expensive restaurants in all of Gralea. Their reservation list was full months in advance, from what you’d heard, and their meals could cost you a week's worth of work. The kind of place everyone knew of, talked about, but few could say they’d ever been. You’d given up on going there yourself, not on a librarian’s salary at least.

This was where Ardyn meant to take you?

You looked up at him with wondrous eyes. He, on the other hand, looked more smug than you’d ever seen him, like the whole of Eos was his to command. He had every right to be, too. It was no wonder he was so confident you’d like his choice for the evening.

“You should learn not to doubt me, dearest,” he said, basking in your amazement. He was enjoying your reaction a great deal.

“I thought you could only get in with a reservation,” you breathed, looking around with astonishment. The place was positively buzzing, a chorus of forks hitting plates and too many conversations to count. As you neared the hostess stand, you could even see a part of the kitchen off to your left, and you were able to hear the sizzling of meat, of pasta turning in a frothy boil. Delicious smelling vapors wafting from its steel appliances, making your mouth water in anticipation.

“Indeed,” Ardyn said cheerfully. “Though you’ll find few are bold enough to enforce such rules in my presence.”

You hummed at that, not doubting it, but wondering how that was going to work out. The restaurant only had so many tables, and if they were all full, him being chancellor wouldn’t mean much.

Your questions were soon answered, as you both stood before the hostess. She was dressed in a suit; white button up with black khakis, hair tied back as she scribbled down the names of arriving parties. You both waited for a moment, you assumed for her to acknowledge you, but instead another woman stepped before you, wearing the same uniform.

“Chancellor Izunia!” She chirped, smiling brightly at him. “It is an honor to serve His Excellency, as always.” She bowed low and deep, hand held daintily over her heart.

“The honor is all mine, Charlette,” Ardyn preened. With a flourishing wave of his hand, he gave his own short bow, which you were quick to copy. Although not before you shot him a questioning look; he knew their names?

“I was hoping to make use of our little arrangement,” he went on, straightening. “I could think of no better place, especially since I am want to entertain a special guest.”

He smirked down at you out of the corner of his eye. You looked away, trying to hide the creeping crimson that invaded your features.

“Of course, Chancellor,” the woman - Charlette - said. Reaching around her coworker, she grabbed two menus from the stand before making her way back into the depths of the restaurant, expecting you to follow. She led you through a wide eating area, dotted with tables dressed in white linens, flickering candles set in the center of each one. The place was huge, and you lost count of how many twists and turns it took to finally reach your table. It wasn’t just any either, tucked into a secluded corner, the angle perfect to keep prying eyes out. The wall it was pushed up against was made entirely of glass, allowing a grand, near endless view of the sprawling metropolis below. Your breath caught in your throat, admiring the sea of speckled lights, like stars swimming in benevolent waters.

You weren’t given much time to admire it though, Ardyn slipping from your grasp to take his seat, forcing you to do the same. The seats were heavy - expensive, you corrected - the wood polished and dark as you settled into it. Your hostess turned waitress placed the menus in front of you, and with a quick flick of her wrist, the candles sprung to life with gentle orange flames. She tucked her lighter into a pocket as she set another small sheet of paper down, the drink menu, you assumed. With that, she was gone, disappearing into the throng of suited staff and pampered guests.

While you unfurled the neatly folded napkin and laid it across your lap, you eyed the silverware dubiously. It seemed each set came with two of each utensil, though a glance at Ardyn’s side of the table told you that was intentional. One bigger, and more square, the other dainty and curved. You may have pondered them longer, had your stomach not given a gentle roll, reminding you you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

“If you’ll indulge me…” Ardyn said softly, beckoning your eyes upward. He sat with his chin resting on laced fingers, like he was making a decision of utmost importance. “It would be criminal to not let you sample some of their finest Cabernet Sauvignon. A rare find these days; the grapes are grown in Lucis.” Ardyn smirked, leaning back in his chair to lounge as if it were a throne.

You concealed your confusion as best you could. You had no idea what he just said, but he mentioned grapes, so you figured it was wine of some sort.

You’d hoped to avoid this, but you knew it was inevitable. Unfortunately, you’d never really come on to alcohol like most people. In fact, you hated the stuff, grimaced every time its foul taste met your lips. While your peers had been off making fake IDs and clubbing, you were sipping milk teas and reading books on the couch. Thinking back on it, it was really no wonder you weren’t invited to parties.

Of course, you couldn’t tell Ardyn that. It was silly, childish. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself by revealing you couldn’t handle your liquor. As much as it pained you to almost immediately break your promise to him, you couldn’t find the strength to be honest.

Instead, you smiled, meeting his honied eyes. “I’d be delighted,” you said sweetly.

Ardyn’s smirk grew at that. “Splendid. I’ll have them fetch us a bottle when they return.”

“Sounds good,” you said, eyeing the menu. Food seemed much more appealing at the moment. Your stomach gurgled its agreement.

The menu wasn’t big. That was a mark of its quality though, each dish more extravagant than the last. You only recognized a handful of them, but for those you did, you knew they were ones that required a careful hand, and hours of prep work. Things most people didn’t dare trying to make at home, lest they spend all day laboring over a ruined meal.

You’d been worried the place would be too high class to have anything you’d like, picky eater as you were, but it seemed you were in luck. One of their specials was something you’d had before, and it was one of your favorites. Your mother made it when your older sister got her doctorate. The dish had taken the entire day to prepare, but when you all sat down and took a bite, it was more than worth it. You hadn’t had it since then, and the thought of tasting it again brought a small smile to your face. The memory of its flavor ghosted across your tongue excitedly.

Having made your choice, and noticing Ardyn was still nose deep in one of the menus, you gazed out at the dining area, admiring the decor. The place was certainly designed with your scenario in mind, and you could see why. The place was dark, hushed, allowing a sense of seclusion for its diners. Candles and dim lights gave it a cozy feel, helped by the warmth of a fire crackling in a brick fireplace as its centerpiece. The restaurant’s popularity was clear; not a single table was left yearning for guests. Even the bar, which you’d passed on the way to your seat, had someone perched on each stool.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” you said suddenly. “How did you manage to get this table? I know you’re the chancellor and all, but the place is always fully booked from what I’ve heard.”

Ardyn lowered his menu, meeting your eyes while chuckling lightly. “Oh, it is, though we have come to a certain agreement. I’ve prevailed upon our dear Emperor to accept his catering only from specific establishments. You’ll find not even the smallest of His Radiance’s galas are absent of such luxuries. In exchange, they’ve agreed to always save a table in my name, should I ever choose to stop by. A…mutually beneficial relationship.”

You paused to stare at him for a moment, his words digesting, before you couldn’t stop a light laugh from tickling up your throat. He was even cagier than you’d thought.

“Clever,” you complimented. It seemed he had the whole of Gralea wrapped around his fingers.

Ardyn positively beamed. “I have my moments.”

You both shared a laugh at that. Quite the understatement, you both knew.

As your snickers began to die down, your waitress returned, cradling a fancy, vase-like bottle filled with clear water, dropping it off as she asked for your orders. Ardyn got his special wine you couldn’t pronounce, along with one of the meals you didn’t recognize, and Charlette complimented his choice with a forced sweetness. It made you cringe a little, seeing her lick his boots as much as possible before she asked what you wanted. Such was one of the downsides of being with someone so high in Niflheim’s pecking order.

Once she was gone, you turned back to each other, Ardyn smiling brightly at your attention. It was so boyishly innocent, you couldn’t help returning it, even when you felt heat creeping up your neck. Oh, he was cute.

“I’d like to get to know you better, if you’ll humor me,” he said, leaning back in his seat, sinking into its cushions, his eyes partially lidded.

You nodded your approval; it was customary on first dates after all. You just hoped he’d give you a chance to do the same, though you had a feeling he probably couldn’t be as open as you’d like. Few could say they knew much about the chancellor, and you figured there was a reason for that. He’d be a tough nut to crack, but you had a deep desire to find out more about him.

Parallels between Real Ardyn and Dream Ardyn aside…

“You said you attended university before starting your career,” he began. “What did you study under their tutelage?”

“Public relations,” your answer was automatic. The question had been asked countless times while you were a student, after all. “I also minored in ancient Lucian, but I’m a little rusty these days.”

It was true, you’d once been semi-fluent. The language had caught your attention after you’d learned of your ancestry. While your blood was mostly a mix of Niff and Tenebraen, a drop of Lucian ran through your veins. Bred out through generations, your ancestors had once owned land there. When you’d found out, you liked the idea of connecting with that part of yourself, and, for once, your parents agreed. Dead language though it was, many books from those days lived on, allowing people to study it as they pleased. Your own skills had atrophied though, having no one else to speak with, and little time to practice on your own. Sadly, more of it slipped through your fingers each day, but you could still hold a basic conversation.

Ardyn’s eyes practically sparkled at that. “Ancient Lucian?” He said slowly, wonder lacing his tone. “Now that is something you don’t hear very often.”

“It’s a pretty language,” you said, smiling with pride at how impressed he seemed. “It’s so different from our modern tongue, I loved seeing how much we’ve changed.”

Ardyn nodded. “I must say, I’m surprised. Few have the patience to learn it.”

“Yeah, my classes were pretty small. And it doesn’t translate into the modern word very well. Plus all the symbols…”

“A challenge I’m sure you more than excelled at facing. You’ll have to demonstrate for me sometime,” Ardyn chortled. “I’ve yet to meet anyone able to master it.”

“‘Master’ is a strong word,” you chuckled. “I haven’t been able to practice much now that I've graduated, but I’d like to get better at it again.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” he smirked. “I have known it for many, many years.”

Your eyes widened, and you gaped at him, much to his amusement.

“You know Ancient Lucian?!” You said, astounded. How, why did he know ancient Lucian? You hadn’t met another person who knew it since you left school.

“Indeed I do,” Ardyn purred, pleased with the bewilderment that twisted your expression. “Our friends across the pond found the idea of communicating in a language we couldn’t understand quite grand, given the circumstances. Our intelligence agencies have become versed in the tongue to compensate, and I followed suit, so I may be kept abreast of their messages without the need for a translator.”

After hearing his explanation, you relaxed a little, glad there was an actual reason for it. Though, something still nagged at you from the back of your head. A strangeness you didn’t know how to name, something that felt…off. You decided to ignore it, all too happy to accept what he’d said.

Just a coincidence…The dreams may have been in the past, but it’s just a coincidence.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

“Makes sense,” you said with a nod. “Hard to spy on someone when you can’t understand them.”

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Ardyn shrugged.

As he finished his sentence, fancy curved wine glasses were placed in front of you. Charlette smiled triumphantly as she brandished the dark green bottle, residue of a wax seal dripping down the neck, the cork already gone. She filled your glasses halfway, a forced smile on your lips as you watched it fizzle and foam slightly. She left the rest on Ardyn’s side, bidding you adieu with reassurances that your meals would be out shortly.

Ardyn picked up his glass by the stem, swirling the scarlet liquid under his nose. You took yours as well, thinking how it was like coffee: smelling much too sweet for what bitterness it contained. With an approving smile, Ardyn brought the wine to his lips, and you quickly followed suit. Some part of you hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as you were expecting.

You tried your best not to make a face. You really did. Despite your efforts, you could feel the faint contorting of your expression turning sour. The potent flavor of alcohol permeated your entire mouth in seconds, like someone had cracked open a battery over your tongue, letting the vitriolic acid burn into your taste buds. The PH so low it brought back memories of being violently sick over a toilet.

You gulped it down quickly, relishing in the whisper of sweetness that followed the disgusting liquid. At least with wine, there was a pleasant, fruity aftertaste.

When your eyes flicked up at your companion, you had a new reason to grimace. Ardyn was staring at you, a brow raised, with the slightest frown on his face.

“Something the matter, dear?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is it not to your liking?”

Oh, bless his heart. He doesn’t realize it’s not this wine I have a problem with.

“Ah -” you hedged, placing your glass back on the table shamefully. You’d hoped you would be able to get through at least a few sips before you made your distaste known.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hating yourself for not being able to just suck it up. “I’m just…not really a fan of most alcoholic beverages. Pure acid…” you muttered the last bit under your breath.

A long pause followed, Ardyn staring at you. You acquainted yourself with the table cloth, fidgeting nervously under his gaze.

You looked up in shock as a hearty laugh filled your ears.

“Is that all, my dear?” Ardyn said between laughs. “Why, you almost had me worried! I was afraid you’d taken ill.”

You blinked owlishly, not expecting his reaction. You let out your own laugh, albeit a nervous one. “No no, I’m fine. Just can’t stomach the stuff. Especially champagne. Never been able to enjoy it.”

“Well, I’d hate to bring you such discomfort.” Ardyn continued to snicker while he spoke. “I’ll have the waiter fetch you something more suitable.”

“Oh that’s okay.” You waved your hand dismissively. You didn’t want to seem picky or ungrateful. “I’m fine with water, you don’t have to -”

But it was too late, Ardyn already waving over one of the attendants that passed by. A tall young man with hair cut down nearly to the roots, a thin mustache on his lip.

“Might you be so kind as to fetch my friend something more to her liking?” Ardyn was saying, the man leaning down to hear him. “Preferably something…virgin? I’m sure you can think of an agreeable substitute.”

The attendant glanced at you, his brown eyes analytic, calculating as he studied you. Just as quickly, an uttered “Of course, your Excellency,” left his mouth before he turned and disappeared into the restaurant.

You sighed at his retreating back, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to do that, it was fine, I promise.”

“Oh but it wasn’t,” he gave you a pointed look. “I’ll not have it be known I’m a bad host. Besides, we came here to enjoy ourselves, and it seems unfair to let me have all the fun.”

Well, you supposed you couldn’t argue with that. He had a point, after all. And hard as you tried to fight it, a little smile crept across your cheeks. It was…kind of sweet.

“Thank you,” you said to the table. The thoughtfulness made a fuzzy warmth settle in your chest.

Ardyn didn’t respond, though his expression softened. A slow nod was all that was needed to show he accepted your gratitude.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to our previous conversation,” he said gently, his fingers laced in his lap and elbows resting on the armrests of his chair.

Looking up, you nodded. “Right.”

“Tell me, do you have any family living in our lovely capital?”

Your smile faltered, fists clenching in your lap, bunching up the napkin. You hadn’t expected him to jump to that so soon. The fuzz in your chest burned like kindling, and you averted your gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the extent of the sourness that replaced your smile.

“They, uh….We’re not exactly on good terms.” You picked at a loose string on the tablecloth, unable to meet his eyes.

“My apologies. I did not mean to upset you.”

“No,” you said quickly, turning back to him. “No, it’s okay. It’s just…I…” You paused trying to think of how to phrase it.

“They always wanted me to be perfect,” you started, pushing down and burying the anger that tried to resurface with the memories. “I was never good enough for them, and they made sure I knew it. They always wished I’d been a son. And my older sister was never any help.”

You swallowed, the lump that’d formed in your throat making it harder to talk with each word. It’d taken years, and lots of therapy, to be able to talk about it at all. You still couldn’t without emotions that’d been left to fester in stained jars from clawing at your skin, threatening to spill. For what does a child crave more than the love of their mother and father?

They only ever saw you as their maid, though. You were cooking the family meals by the time you were ten, cleaning the house and doing the chores since seven. Your family was the proud owner of a successful orchard to the east of the capital, meaning their house was nothing to sneeze at. More of a mansion, but to you it was more of a prison, trapped with a father who shouted and a mother who demeaned. You were beaten into submission, burned and flayed and ripped until you were their perfect little princess, a trained monkey for all to gawk at.

You supposed all the love they had was used up on your sister, whom they spoiled to the point of being rotten. She loved how much they favored her over you. It was like a sport to her, to see how much trouble she could get you into. Any attempts to stand up to her were rewarded with a lock on your door, and a night without dinner. Some part of you did pity her though; she was but a pampered poodle after all. More of an object to your parents than a person, something to flaunt to their rich neighbors.

Schooling wasn’t something they were overly fond of you participating in, since your sister had already proven herself superior in that field. She won awards at science fairs while your grades were good, but not spectacular. A failing in their eyes. When eighteen rolled around, their boot was already firmly placed in your back, the door to their estate shutting with a thunderous crack behind you. They would suffer a runt no longer.

You tensed when something kicked you, snapping you out of your dark memories. Your brows furrowed, and you stared down at the table as if you might see through it. Then - there it was again. Something nudged your shin.

It was Ardyn. His smirk had been wiped clean off, and was replaced with a gentleness you hadn’t seen before. It…looked like sympathy.

“I know the feeling all too well,” he answered your unspoken question. “I never lived up to my family’s standards, so I became an outcast.” Something flicked across his face, and you blinked, recognizing it. It looked similar to what happened when he saw Jeremy; an untamable rage that was held by a leash ripe for snapping. Gone before you had a chance to really see it, buried as deep as it would go.

Well…family issues could certainly explain his bitterness.

You sensed his leg was still encroaching on your side of the table. Thankful that he snapped you out of your whirlpool of thoughts, you decided to return the favor. Sinking down into your seat a little, you reached out with your right foot, finding his boot easily. Delicately, you curled your ankle, giving his shin a comforting rub.

A soft smile returned to his face when he felt you. You gave him one of your own, feeling he deserved to be soothed too.

“So…we’re both a little broken,” you said, like you were sharing a secret. “Maybe we can help each other pick up the pieces, if you’re willing.”

He hummed in thought, letting his smile grow back into a smirk. Good - he was feeling better, then.

“I’d like that,” he said, twirling the stem of his wine glass in his fingers. “If you’re willing to put up with the ravings of an old man.”

You scoffed at him. “You’re not old!” You waved your hand at him in offense. “You look thirty!”

“Close,” he teased, sipping his drink. “I’m thirty-three.”

“See? That’s not old.”

He snickered at how adamant you were. You certainly had fire when you wanted to.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be winning this one.” He leaned back in his chair, defeated. “Ugh, where were you on the council when I needed you?”

“I don’t think I’ve got the patience for politics,” you giggled at the thought. “I’d speak out of line once and get thrown in jail.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Especially with the epidemic of incompetence spreading through the Emperor's cabinet as of late.”

“Giving you trouble, are they?” You said with a chuckle.

“All the time.”

You laughed whilst he shook his head, rubbing his temple in frustration. You supposed even the chancellor couldn’t escape the woes of annoying colleagues.

“Who’s the worst of the bunch?” You probed, not really expecting an answer.

“General Calligo Ulldor,” he said without hesitation, letting out an angry sigh. “He has an ego bigger than the imperial legions, and that is saying something.”

You hummed, taking a sip of water. You could feel its cold touch glide down your throat as you drank. You hadn’t noticed until then, but your mouth had gone quite dry over the course of the evening.

“Never heard of him,” you said, placing your glass back on the table. You weren’t big on politics, but you still knew some of the people on the imperial council. Aside from Ardyn, that is.

He grinned widely at your statement, a mischievousness darkening his eyes.

“I’ll be telling him that when next I see him. He’ll have an utter fit over it.”

You scoffed again. “I doubt he cares what some commoner thinks.”

“And you would be forgiven for that assumption, inaccurate as it may be. The man believes his name echoes from the coasts of Niflheim to the walls of Insomnia.”

“Damn…that is a big ego.”

You smiled as Ardyn laughed, one that was carefree and jovial. You liked that look on him. You decided you wanted to see him laugh like that more.

Right as he was settling down, your waitress returned, steaming plates balanced in one arm while she held a glass in the other. You’d completely forgotten about the drink Ardyn ordered for you, but its bright red color betrayed something sweet, and you were a sucker for sweet things. The warm plate she placed in front of you looked just as appetizing; you didn’t need to sink your fork into it to tell it was cooked to perfection, its savory aroma prompting an impatient growl from your belly.

You both thanked the waitress and she was off, leaving you alone to enjoy your meals. Ardyn encouraged you to tell him if it was all to your liking, and you nodded, though you doubted you would be disappointed. It all looked perfect.

Holding up his glass, Ardyn proposed a toast to your budding relationship. Taking your own, you adorned a goofy smile as your glasses tinked together, both of you taking swigs of your drinks. This one was infinitely better, a mix of ulwaat berries and the sharp taste of oranges. These were the kind of drinks you could suck down all day.

The food was the real highlight though, which was to be expected. As soon as the first forkfull hit your tongue, you melted into your seat, closing your eyes blissfully to bask in the heavenly flavor. It was even better than you could’ve imagined.

For those first few bites, neither of you insisted on conversation, too busy savoring your dishes. Glancing at Ardyn’s, you still weren’t entirely sure what it was, but it looked like some kind of fancy casserole; a layer of starchy substance concealed a treasure of meat and vegetables. You’d have to ask him what it was later.

After a few minutes, Ardyn resumed asking you questions in between bites. You were happy to oblige, the conversation flowing more freely. He started by asking about your hobbies, mercifully leaving the issue of your family aside. You told him about them in scant detail, curious what his own hobbies were, and asking him as much. He told you he fancied all different manners of wine, though that wasn’t much of a revelation, given his enthusiasm for the stuff. He also told you he was rather good at chess, which surprised you. You asked him to play you sometime, though he warned your odds of winning against him were slim, at best. You made him promise not to go easy on you.

By the time you two were done exchanging stories of how you fell into your passions, your plates were greasy and cold, your glasses empty and stained. Ardyn drank almost the entire bottle of wine on his own, yet he didn’t seem even the slightest bit tipsy. He must’ve had a high tolerance, since he seemed to drink it often, by the way he spoke about it.

As soon as you both were satisfied, Charlette appeared, gathering your dirtied plates and asking if you had interest in dessert. Ardyn looked to you wordlessly, leaving the decision in your hands. As much as you were tempted, you were full enough on dinner, and chose to decline. With that, she took the last of the wine, saying she would keep it for his next visit, and add the night's meal to his tab.

When she departed for the final time, Ardyn stood, strutting to your side so he could hold out his hand for you. You blushed a little as you placed your hand in his, letting him help you up. Somehow it felt more intimate then, the way he smiled at you with his trademark smirk and gave his arm for you to take. It felt less like it was just for show and more like he may actually have some interest in you.

As dizzying as the thought was.

But you weren’t going to let your doubts dampen your mood. A pleasant contentment had laid its roots in you, blooming into a smile that wouldn’t leave your face. The evening had gone better than you could’ve expected. Even though there was some initial nervousness, and the hiccup of your family affairs, your conversation had otherwise come naturally. Both of you teased each other, cracked jokes, made like a merry couple, all things considered. It made you feel good. It put a spring in your step as you were walked back to the elevator.

Ardyn, of course, insisted on taking you home. You agreed readily; the building was much too far from home to walk, which left you with few options. Not that you minded, you were feeling more confident in Ardyn’s presence after the night you shared.

The ride home was lethargic, your bodies busy processing what you’d put in them. Ardyn made his way to your apartment without issue, parking his car right next to the front doors. When you got out, so did he, asking if he could walk you to your room. You hesitated at first, but you allowed it. You didn’t want to leave his side just yet. Standing next to him was starting to feel warm. Comforting.

The elevator ride was a silent one, but this time the painful prick of awkwardness was noticeably absent. It let you off with a ding, and you led Ardyn down the row of cookie cutter doors to what you called home.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing to one close to the end. The only distinguishing feature a gold 1021 glued under the peephole.

“…Thank you,” you said, turning to where Ardyn stood behind you, watching you fish around in your purse for your keys. “For tonight, I mean. I had fun.”

Ardyn’s eyes softened. “As did I,” he said.

You stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything, wondering how you should part from each other. You weren't sure if you should do something more. Should you say goodnight? Hug him? Kiss him? The possibilities swirled in your head, indecision pulling her boney fingers through your hair.

Though, as usual, Ardyn knew what to do. He stepped forward, the familiar feeling of his fingers under your chin welcome. Perhaps it was the lighting, but his amber eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at you.

“Might I be so bold…” he murmured, his half lidded irises blinking long and slow. “As to wish you a goodnight?”

He carded his thumb across your lower lip, a wake of tingling skin left after it. His gaze darted down to watch your mouth get pulled apart ever so slightly, before his eyes snapped back up.

He wanted to say goodnight… but not with words.

Your eyes widened. Did he…really want to…?

It was a little scary, when you realized what exactly he was asking of you. What if you weren’t good enough? Would you disappoint him? Hell, were you even ready for this?

You trembled with a full body shudder, the answer your soul gave shaking you to your core.

“Yes,” you breathed, letting your consent hang in the air as the tension between you two balanced on a knife's edge. Your tongue wet your lips as you allowed your eyes to fall and linger on his mouth, before being caught again by his saucers of honey.

Ardyn hummed in pleasure, holding your chin up for himself.

“Close your eyes…” he whispered.

You obeyed without hesitation, blood rushing in your ears as the anticipation made your muscles tighten.

The ghosting of his breath across your face preceded him. You curled your toes, waiting, and when the stubble of his beard scratched your skin, his lips finally meeting yours, time slowed to a stop.

His touch had always sparked heat deep beneath your skin, a crackling fire of emotions you didn’t dare name.

But this…this was a bonfire, one that struck like lightning down to your fingertips, a raging blaze that stole your breath away. His mouth was soft, decadent in the way it slowly massaged into yours, delectable in the way his beard contrasted his lips. You could sense the faint, sweet taste of the wine he’d had, making him all the more delicious.

It took you a moment to come down from your high, remembering to return his gentle caress. The care he took to familiarize himself with how you moved kept making you lightheaded. Even though he took the lead, he wasn’t demanding. Ardyn allowed you to get lost in the movement, your fingers curling as a need began to bloom in the bowels of your core.

He was addicting.

Whatever fleeting thoughts occupying your brain vanished, leaving behind only the need to join him in that dance. You sighed contentedly into him, melting into his form, your hands coming to rest on his chest. Ardyn made a pleased sound, his own hands dropping to hold your hips, keeping you flush against himself.

It was all at once long and indulgent and over far too soon. You parted from each other with a wet, satisfying pop, panting not from lack of breath, but from the magnitude of what you’d just done. You got kissed by the chancellor. And fuck, you’d liked it. You’d liked it a lot. Your eyes fluttered open, watching him, hoping he’d enjoyed that as much as you had.

Ardyn’s face shone with the gentlest blush, his eyes slightly wide and unblinking. He looked at you like you were a great mystery to him, something he lacked the tools to figure out. He was at a loss for words, his neck showing the faintest hints of perspiration.

But even while his face was contorted with confusion, he couldn’t hide the desire that burned deep within his eyes.

There was a long pause that followed, the two of you just staring at the other. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what you would do.

It did not have to wait long for an answer.

Something in Ardyn snapped. He suddenly lunged forward, sweeping you up and forcing a startled yelp from you, shoving you against your door. The sound was barely out of your throat when he claimed your lips again, holding your body delightfully hostage between himself and cheap wood.

At first, the kisses were light and airy. Perhaps even hesitant, both of you scared of what further indulgence would entail.

But soon, they were needy, desperate. You could sense it in the way he moved, how he clung to you like he feared the very thought of letting go. Like he’d wandered a barren desert all his life, only to now be blessed with the quenching mist of morning rain. You were his salvation, locked away and hidden by those who would wish him suffering.

And you were just as parched, just as depraved in your search for relief.

You could feel the door strain behind you, creaking while it struggled to hold as it pressed against your back, Ardyn humming a possessive growl into your skin.

You held on to his roaming forearms for stability, trying to remain grounded enough to return his sweet affections. The worries from the night, the week before melted away, massaged out of you by the passion, the hunger in his eyes.

So what if it all collapsed, really? Did it matter, when you breathed in Ardyn’s scent, his musk, as you moved to run your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. Oh, and the little whine of delight he made when you nipped his lower lip, his excitement brushing against your thigh.

So what if the world fell apart tomorrow, spoiled by fire and brimstone?

Would it matter, would you care?

No, you realized, humming into his mouth, cupping his stubbly cheek in one hand. His own traveled your sides, slowly dragged up and down, from where your bra could be felt through your shirt down to your hips. His nose pressed against yours, his bangs tickled your forehead.

You gasped when something slick traced your lower lip. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. But you immediately let him in, unable to stop a slight moan as his tongue darted inside you. The remnants of his meal remained on the dexterous muscle, spreading the exotic spices across your taste buds as he explored your mouth. It intertwined with your own, bringing you together in a deep, primal way.

You could feel heat gathering below you, soiling your underwear. A pressure that built with every featherlight touch.

You felt slightly filthy for it. Normally, you weren’t really one to have sex on a first date.

But he felt so good. So right.

Your left hand untangled from his hair, groping blindly at the door holding you up, trying to fiddle with the handle.

“Do you…want to…come inside?” You asked between kisses, chasing his lips as he dove down to nibble the tender flesh of your neck. You groaned in appreciation, your fingers flying back into his hair.

When your words finally registered, Ardyn froze. You could’ve wailed when he leaned back slowly, meeting your eyes with a calculating expression.

You immediately felt guilt squeeze your chest. You’d overstepped.

“I don’t believe…” Ardyn said through heavy breaths. “…that would be appropriate of me, given how long we’ve known each other.”

Your face fell, as did your heart. The heat inside you fizzled, fading into embarrassment that made you want to sink into the ground.

He must surely think you a whore, now. Gods, you’d ruined it.

“Now, now,” he said gently, taking your crestfallen face into his palm. A sweet smile returned to his features as he rubbed fond circles into your cheek. “There’s no need to look so disappointed.” He leaned down sinfully close to your ear, his voice a siren’s song. “I am not opposed to having a bit of fun, once we come to know each other better.”

Your heart leapt at that. So there was still hope for you.

Ardyn chuckled when we leaned back, noticing how your face had brightened. You were just adorable.

“Speaking of which,” he began, letting his hands fall from you as he took a step back. Your body unconsciously swayed in his direction, missing the warmth of his caress. Oh, how he’d never get tired of watching you chase his touch. “I had plans to spend the afternoon at the imperial gardens at his Radiance’s humble abode. It would bring me unending delight if you were to join me.”

You stared at him with wide, excited eyes. “Is that allowed?” You asked. Not just anyone was permitted into the imperial palace, especially common folk. You’d only ever seen it in passing, from the outside.

Ardyn grinned mischievously. “With my blessing, you are allowed anywhere, my dearest. Sans perhaps, the Emperor’s private quarters. I don’t believe he would find it amusing if we visited him uninvited.”

You laughed quietly at the thought. Ardyn certainly had an interesting sense of humor.

Stepping up to him, you caught him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest, reminding yourself of when you’d done the same thing in a dream. His clothes were just as comforting and full of warmth as then too, and you delighted in the movement of his lungs, the beating of his heart. After a moment, he held you with just as much enthusiasm, one hand rhythmically combing through your hair while the other cupped the small of your back.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow?” You asked, looking up at him in question. He still had that soft adoring smile on his face, and you could’ve melted at seeing it displayed for you.

He brushed the back of his knuckles across your cheek, widening your pleased grin.

“I swear it on my honor as Chancellor,” he smirked, that whimsical mischief you were coming to know returning to his eyes.

You giggled at him, releasing his waist in favor of taking his hand from your face, pressing a delicate kiss on the back of his fingers. “A simple promise would do.”

“Then a promise you’ll have,” he said. “I’ll have an attendant ready for you by noon tomorrow. Make sure you’re ready a few minutes prior to his arrival, it would be a shame to make him wait.”

You gave a short nod. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” You released his hand as he stepped backward, waving as he turned toward the elevator. “With that, I bid you farewell. Until tomorrow.”

You returned his wave smally, watching him go.

“Good night, Ardyn.”

He paused midstep, looking at you over his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten.

“Good night…花.” (hana)

Your eyes widened, a soft gasp falling from your lips as he smirked at you. He continued on down the corridor, as carefree as he was at the convenience store.

Like he hadn’t just called you his flower in ancient Lucian.

Your head spun with it, a flush washing down to your fingertips. It was so…intimate, in a different way. Like a promise, a trusted secret. You almost wanted to call after him, say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything suitable. Plus, you didn’t want to overstep so soon after you’d already stumbled. He’d set a pace for the both of you in this. The least you could do was respect it.

So, with some reluctance, you focused on getting your door open. Still, you couldn’t wipe your stupid smile from your face. He called you flower, you thought giddily, the door clicking softly as the lock was undone. You closed it gently behind you, not wanting to wake your neighbors. Glancing at the digital clock on your stove, it was already well past ten. The fact had your body sagging. It’d been easy to ignore your tiredness before, but now that you were alone, it struck you with full force. It was past your bedtime.

Throwing your purse onto the coach carelessly, you got ready for bed. Your brain was filled with the memories of your night out, replaying the best parts as you showered and changed. You’d had more fun than you thought you would.

And you were going to see him again tomorrow!

You let out a happy sigh at the reminder, snuggling into bed. You were excited to see him.

So much so, it was almost enough to make you forget about your dreams. And the nagging sense of wrongness that was an incessant thorn in the back of your mind, as you drifted off to sleep.

“Sleep well…あなた.” (anata)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ardyn slammed his fist against the elevator wall, the metal groaning as it caved from the force. Another dent for the disgusting bucket that building called a lift.

“Gods damn it all,” he muttered, a fury that was all too familiar making him tremble with a need to release it.

The kiss had been a test. He wanted to know how much the gods had made you in Aera’s image, and your little date gave him the perfect opportunity to test not only your personality, but also your more…intimate mannerisms. A quick peck was all it was meant to be.

But it became so much more. When his lips touched yours, he got the same feeling he did when he kissed his beloved. How his heart felt like it was soaring, content and ignorant of the turmoil that shook the ground below. With her, he forgot his hurts as a healer who absorbed the scourge, and instead could simply exist. Pretend for a few moments he lived a peaceful life with his beloved, drowning in the happiness she wrought.

And it’d happened again. He felt it as soon as he kissed you. That happiness, the love he craved so deeply, even if he denied it. Your lips had moved with that same feeling of reverence, the same unconditional love he once felt from her. When you parted from each other, his soul screamed, for it was desperate to feel even an ounce of that again.

So, against his better judgment, he’d kissed you again. And again. And again. He let himself get lost in it, closing his eyes as he remembered her. He could picture it, stealing time away from his duties to waste it in the gardens together. Or stolen moments at the inn of the town he was curing, where they would relax for a short while before their callings beckoned them onward.

Until you spoke, that is, reminding him who it was he was actually kissing.

That had been a splash of cold water to his senses, and he knew he had to stop. He’d let it go on for far too long.

His fingers hesitantly traced his lips, which tingled with the memory of your touch. No, it hadn’t been the exact same as Aera, he realized. You were both gentle in your affections, certainly, but there was something else in yours. A fiery determination mixed with a hint of apprehension. You weren’t as sure of yourself as Aera was, but you had enough will to fight that part of yourself when you wanted to.

He let out an angry sigh as the doors slid open to the lobby. He’d have to do more tests to be certain.

The dinner had been fruitful at least. Even though he was a bit sad to see you still couldn’t be completely honest with him, he’d expected as much. Well, no matter. He’d just have to break down your walls, earn your trust. Something he could call himself an expert in.

Still, he’d gotten quite a bit out of you. He learned enough to tell that you were not a carbon copy of his Aera, which had him relieved. He’d been worried the gods would be too lazy to think of anything else, couldn’t imagine anyone besides her holding him in any positive regard. That they would copy and paste her personality, her wants, her passions onto another body, plastering another face over it.

They hadn’t, though, which surprised him. Aera had been a fan of architecture, something that you displayed no interest in. Reading was something you had in common, but he supposed he couldn’t really blame you for that one - you worked in a library after all. She also had no issues with her family, at least none that he could recall. No, you were your own person. The gods had given him a small mercy on that front.

Yet that mercy was a double edged sword. While he could confirm you were your own person, he could also confirm there was unmistakably something bigger at play here. It was no coincidence you made him feel the ways Aera did. And it was no coincidence you’d met now, so close to the cursed prophecy’s end.

A prophecy he was now certain had begun pulling at your strings.

Though for what purpose, he still couldn’t say.

He’d have time to figure it out though, under the guise of more ‘dates’.

Speaking of which…

Ardyn pulled out his phone, dialing a number as he slammed his car door shut. It rang once before it was answered.

“Yes, your Excellency?” The scratchy voice of one of his servants chirped.

Ardyn said your name, your full name, into the device. “I want you to find me the location of her immediate family. I’d like to pay them a visit…”

“At once, your Eminence.”

———————————————————————

Thank you everyone for the patience and support. It has really helped me get back into this, now that I have time.

I kept things like Reader's hobbies and what they were eating vague so you can put in whatever you like :). I personally imagined reader got some delicious beef wellington and Ardyn got a shepherd's pie. I head canon he likes commoner food, it's comforting for him.

Also, since some of you know I do have some childhood trauma, I just want to say the stuff I said about reader's family is completely fictional. My family is wonderful and I love them very much. We're going out for drinks later :) (yes the alcohol thing is real though so wish me luck lmao).

Also also I decided since I'm semi bilingual I wanted to add some Japanese into the story! Don't worry, I'll make sure to put translations in the text where it appears, that way you don't have to scroll/look anything up to understand it. This time is the exception because I wanted it to be a surprise. Japanese definitely exists inside FFXV already, I'm just tweaking it so it can be a sweet little thing between Ardyn and reader :) Hope you enjoy it!

Translations: 花 = flower あなた = dear (or a general term of endearment)

No, the dreams weren't in ancient Lucian, they were in English. Reader didn't even know they were in Lucis during them, and probably still has some doubt about the exact location.

Anyway, I've set a routine for myself to write a little bit everyday, which I hope I can adhere to. Please look forward to future chapters!