#once i get the bookshelf my Game consoles can get off the floor and have an actual home

[illdothehotvoice]

You ever do the thing you've been putting off and then youre mad at yourself for putting it off cause it took like 2 hours at most???

[violetsaffron5]

Beautiful Disaster (10)

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↳ 10 | Insights

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Meeting Satoru's family

words: 4.6k

cw: mention of infidelity and open relationships

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

When Satoru described his house to you, it sounded pretty modest, all things considered.

Based on the conversations you’ve had with Satoru and the things he likes to buy, you knew his family was rich, or at least had more money than most due to owning a law firm.

What you weren’t expecting was to be standing in front of an entire fucking estate as Satoru types in the code at the gate to get in.

They’re rich, rich and that thought kind of makes you want to vomit in the neatly trimmed bushes you’re currently walking past.

The estate is grand and luxurious. Soft snow is falling onto the acres of lawn that span the entirety of their property. Fern and Maple tree branches hang with the soft, freshly fallen snow making it look like an enchanted wonderland.

There’s a fountain in the center of the large, circular driveway surrounded by several bushes. And in the driveway there are several expensive cars, Satoru’s being among them.

He laces his fingers with yours guiding you to the front steps of the house to the large wooden double doors, passing by a wooden bridge that leads to another smaller building that sits on the lot, a little ways away from the main house.

The house is modern with multiple stories, a patio that wraps around the entire house with large glass windows to let in plenty of natural light. 

The inside of the house is, to no surprise, even more grand. Everything is clean, shiny, and new. 

The foyer has a table with fresh flowers on it between double staircases with marble flooring.

It’s almost impersonal in a way that screams the house was decorated by an interior designer.

Satoru leads you up one side of the staircase, down several halls, past a few closed doors to his bedroom.

The room is large and clean. He has several posters hanging on the wall over his bed, a giant TV with a game console set up under it on opposite his enormous bed. The room is clean with everything put in its place.

It would be hard to keep a house of this size clean so there’s no doubt there’s probably a few maids that help maintain organization and cleanliness. It would be impossible to keep clean on your own.

“Where are your parents?” It’s not that you thought they’d be waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the front door, but you did expect to see them greeting their son after he had left for the night.

He shrugs, putting your bag down on the bed, “Around here somewhere, probably.”

Satoru presses his lips to yours, leaning you back onto his plush bed. Your legs spread automatically for him to lay between as he moves to kiss your jaw and neck, teeth grazing gently on the tender spot below your ear.

“Mm, Satoru,” you breathe, “Can we wait?”

He sighs, pouting, “Why?”

“Because we just got here. I want to look around and meet your family.”

Satoru pecks your lips a few times before muttering, “Fine,” standing and offering his hand to help you up off his bed.

There are several doors that are closed and Satoru explains those are just extra bedrooms, and when Suguru comes over or they have any parties, Suguru sleeps in one of them. The room at the end of the hall is a game room, or more of an arcade, really.

A massive sectional couch lines one wall, with a giant TV filling the entire wall space across from it. There’s a pool table, air hockey, and plenty of old-school arcade games spaced around the room.

It’s every kid's dream to have a room like this.

“This is incredible,” you laugh while looking through a bookshelf filled with board games, “I would have lived in here as a kid.”

“Yeah, I spent a lot of time in here playing while my parents were working.”

“Oh. Wasn’t that lonely?”

“Not so bad, especially once Suguru and I became friends. He stayed over a lot.”

You realize it must have been lonely being an only child with his parents always working or gone. Before you have a chance to say anything someone comes and knocks on the door of the room you’re in.

It takes you by surprise, not having expected someone to knock when the door is already open. There’s a pretty woman in the doorway with a simple uniform and a soft smile on her face, “Dinner is ready.”

Satoru rolls his eyes and groans while you giggle, “How fancy.”

Since you agreed to come to Satoru’s house with him, the two of you decided to spend most of the day with your Aunt Nagi, keeping her company for the day. She was getting ready to head out for her own dinner with a few friends when the two of you decided to leave.

As Satoru leads you through the halls upstairs, he points to the other wing of the house, up the opposite set of stairs that you initially came up stating that his parent's bedrooms are that way, along with a few studies and offices for his dad's work.

“You okay?” Satoru asks as you grab and gently squeeze his hand at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, just nervous. This is… more than I could have imagined. What if your parents don’t like me?”

“I really don’t care what they think.”

“But I do. I’ve never done this before.”

“My dad will love you,” he kisses your temple sweetly, “Mom will come around eventually.”

“Because she’ll prefer Mei?” You ask quietly, insecure.

He nods slightly, “Dad doesn’t really care for her. Says he knows what she’s all about and what she’s after. Mom will be the harder one to win over. She really only cares about how our family acts and appears in public, and Mei is very good at that.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Satoru points out a library stating they have all kinds of books, really anything imaginable in there and to help yourself at any time. Just off the library is a staircase to the basement. He says they don’t use it very much and it’s mainly for storage, but when he had parties in high school, that’s where they would hang out.

Satoru’s parents are already seated at a large mahogany table with a chandelier over it when you walk into the dining room. The room itself is just between the double staircase and has a massive carpet under the table with simple wooden chairs surrounding it.

His dad looks up from his tablet with shining eyes and a nod of his head when you give him a shy smile, “Welcome.”

Gojo Sr. looks as you remember from seeing him in Tokyo, shopping. Tall and lanky with salt and pepper hair. Satoru is a spitting image of him, only with his mother's snow-white hair.

Turning to his mother you give her the same sweet smile. She doesn’t return it. Instead, she looks you up and down a few times, and you’re unable to read her expression.

Knowing she only cares about image, you dressed the best you could with what you had packed. It’s a simple dress that cinches in all the right places.

She doesn’t look impressed.

“Who’s this?” His mom asks and you purse your lips as you take a seat across from her with Satoru next to you; it has you wondering if he’s even bothered to mention your name.

The thought doesn’t have time to fester since you hear Gojo Sr. say your name with confidence, “He told us she’d be joining us this week, and that they started dating a few months ago. Remember, honey?”

She hums, choosing not to respond. There’s an awkward silence for a few moments that’s making you want to crawl under the table and die, but before you get the chance to do that the food is brought out by a few of the house workers.

The hustle and bustle of plates, silverware, and doors opening and closing quickly fill the space drawing out the awkwardness of the introductions that just happened.

This is probably the fanciest dinner you’ve ever been to in your entire life and you can’t imagine people eating like this every single day without a care in the world.

“Why’d you have them make dinner like this?” Satoru asks, clearly annoyed that he had to come down to eat a four-course fucking meal with his parents.

“Your mom said that it would be a good idea to impress your guest.” His dad answers.

Satoru sighs, “Right. Even though mom just acted like she had no idea who she was.”

“It’s okay,” you interject, not really wanting to be the center of attention any more than you already are, “This is wonderful, regardless.”

You smile at Satoru’s mom, but she ignores you, taking a bite of her food instead so you turn and smile at Gojo Sr.

“So, what is your degree in?” He asks.

You’re thankful to have something else to focus your attention on, rather than sitting in an odd, uncomfortable silence until everyone is done with their meals. You tell him your major and that you’re helping tutor Yuji along with picking up a few extra-curricular courses in order to get enough credits to graduate early.

“Smart. It seems like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

“And what about a family?” His mom cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“Um,” You laugh awkwardly, “I’d like to have one, one day. I think I’d like to be settled in my career first, and be in a good place financially before really considering that.”

“Degrees are useless if you plan on staying home with the children. Better to have them while you’re young.”

“Mom,” Satoru warns, glaring at her.

He knew she was going to pull some shit like this, trying to find a reason to berate you, make you feel like what you’re doing isn’t good enough, no matter what you said. It’s how she operates when she’s not happy with his decisions.

“It’s fine.” You give him a tender smile, trying to hide the fact that your hands are shaking from the bombardment of questions regarding such a personal matter, “I don’t know if I plan to stay home with them or not. That’s a decision that’ll be made when the time comes.”

She scoffs, “Letting someone else raise your child-”

“What’s the difference between dropping the child off at daycare while working versus staying home and letting a nanny raise them?” You cut in.

Her eyes narrow at you as you smile sweetly in her direction before losing some of your nerves, opting to take a drink of water from the glass in front of you. 

Gojo’s dad laughs quietly, breaking some of the tension, “Honey, let them worry about that when the time comes. They have plenty of years left before that would even be an option.”

Your cheeks flush at the thought of you and Satoru getting married one day, and starting a family, but there is a long way before that’s even a real consideration in your mind. You were honest with his dad, wanting to wait until you’re out of college, well into your career before you start thinking about starting a family.

You’d also want to be away from your mother so there’s no possible way she’d be involved.

“What does your mom do for a living?” His mom's voice is tense, but she’s trying. You're not sure why, but your best guess would be so Satoru doesn’t get pissed at her.

“She’s in hospitality.”

She perks up a little, hopeful, “Management?”

You shake your head, “Um, no, she works at a travel agency.”

There’s no hiding the disappointment that crosses her features. She opens her mouth to say something, but you see the way her eyes flicker to Satoru for a moment before closing her mouth.

You’re internally thankful when Gojo Sr. cuts in discussing the law firm and upcoming projects with Satoru, taking the heat and conversation off of yourself for the rest of dinner.

Once you’re done eating, Satoru excuses the two of you, bringing you back upstairs to the game room.

The two of you decide on a simple board game to play and as Satoru gets it up, your phone pings with a text.

Choso: do you have all the supplies you need for class? You: No, not yet Choso: We could go together, I still have a few things I need to pick up as well.

“Who are you talking to?” Satoru asks when you smile and tap away at your phone.

“Oh. Choso texted asking if I have everything I need for our art class this semester.”

His jaw twitches, “You have a class with him?”

Your eyes flicker between his for a moment, “Yeah. I didn’t realize it until we talked the other day. It’s the art class I’m taking as my extracurricular this semester.”

“Oh, great.”

There’s a shift in his mood at the mention of Choso. You can tell he’s not a fan, doesn’t like it when Choso hangs out with you or even speaks to you, but he hasn’t said anything about it.

You’d understand if there was anything going on with Choso, or if anything had ever happened in the past with him, but Satoru is the only person you’ve been with, physically and romantically since transferring.

It’s also a little hypocritical of him to be so jealous of someone else just because you get along with them when he’s still hanging out with Mei despite your protests.

You drop the subject though, quickly texting Choso back telling him you won’t be able to make it out before the semester starts. You’ll just ask Satoru to go with you to buy the things you need later this week.

Turning your attention back to the game, you ask Satoru to explain the rules and play a few practice rounds until his mood lightens. The rest of the night goes quickly, filled with laughs, giggles, and silly little arguments about him cheating so he doesn’t lose.

Your brows furrow when Satoru’s alarm goes off bright and early the next morning, feeling a kiss on your cheek with the bed dipping before he rolls out of it.

It takes you several minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkened room. He has blackout curtains hanging over the windows, helping keep the morning sunlight out of his room.

When you sit up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, Satoru emerges from his attached bathroom in a white button-down and black slacks. He looks great, professional, but you’re also confused.

“Where are you going?” You ask between yawns.

Satoru chuckles, “I have to go into the office.”

“I thought you said your dad would let you take the week off since I’m here?”

“He will. But I have to at least get-up and get ready. Showing initiative and all that. He’ll tell me to come home and spend time with you instead.”

You pout, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Trust me, he’ll tell me to come back and hang out with my pretty girlfriend.”

You smile and flush as he kisses your lips before walking out of his room. And true to his word, he’s back shortly after leaving, pulling your sleeping body into his before he falls back asleep holding you close.

When the two of you decide to finally get up for the day, it’s almost noon and the house is empty. There was a part of you that expected to see some people working and cleaning throughout the house, but it is totally barren.

Both of your stomachs growl as you make your way out of his room to the kitchen, looking through the massive pantry to find something quick and easy to make.

He’s able to find soba noodles tucked away in a corner, grabbing those and getting out the necessary utensils to cook it on their stove.

While the water is heating up Satoru lifts you so you’re sitting on the kitchen island before pressing his lips to yours. He swipes his tongue over your lips silently asking to deepen the kiss. You let him, you always do.

As an opportunist, Satoru takes full advantage of the empty house, slowly leaning you down on the marble counter so he can kiss and lick down your neck until your legs are spread wide and his face is buried in the apex of your thighs.

Your moans of his name echo through the quiet house as the boiling water bubbles over the rim of the pot extinguishing the flame of the burner below. Neither of you pays much attention to it, not having the desire or will to stop, especially when he buries his cock in you, telling you how much he loves you.

Eventually, the two of you clean up the stove and turn your attention back to lunch. The rest of the day is filled with more of the same; Satoru taking you on any and every surface imaginable.

In the evening, his parents come home and his mother forces everyone to have another awkward dinner. His mom doesn’t speak to you much while his father asks about how your day was before discussing business with Satoru.

It’s incredible to hear Satoru talk about the field he’s studying, and how he already knows so much. Though it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering it’s his family business and he’s expected to work there after graduation.

After dinner, you and Satoru lay around for a bit before deciding to watch a movie. While Satoru works on getting the movie set up in the game room you decide to run downstairs to get some drinks. He explains where you can find sodas and wine, letting you decide on what to bring back for him.

The house is quiet when you come down the steps and head into the kitchen, grabbing several sodas and snacks to bring back with you. When you pass by the library on your way back upstairs, you can hear a few giggles coming from the room.

After dinner, his mom left again and you were under the impression his dad did as well since you hadn’t seen him since excusing yourselves. Furrowing your brows, you open the library door and poke your head inside to see what the commotion is about.

And your stomach hits the fucking floor.

His dad is in the room with a woman leaning back on the desk, who is very much not Satoru’s mother. She has a robe barely draped over her body, cupping his father's face as he chuckles, kissing her neck.

Your palms are heavy, heart is racing, and knees weak as you close the door as quietly as you can. You’re not sure if either of them saw you but as you slowly head up the stairs debating how to tell Satoru what you saw, nobody comes out to stop you.

There’s a massive lump in your throat when you walk into the game room, brows furrowed in concentration. Satoru looks up and smiles at you but it quickly drops when he sees your expression, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Um, Satoru, baby. You might want to sit down.”

“Uh, okay…” His brows are knitted together in confusion, but does as you’ve asked, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” You take a deep breath, voice laced with concern, “I heard some noise from the library, so I decided to poke my head in there and… your dad is in there with another woman.”

“Oh. What does she look like?”

You shake your head and blink a few times, confused about why he’s wanting to know, “Um. Tall, light eyes I think, long dark hair, thick eyebrows.”

“That’s Yorozu. They’ve been seeing each other for like, I don’t know, a few years now, I guess.”

“I- What?”

Satoru repeats himself, watching your confused expression stay as you take in the information he’s providing on his family.

“So you just… know he’s having an affair? Does your mom know?”

Satoru shrugs, “Yeah, she does.”

“Ok, pause. Start from the beginning.” Satoru raises an eyebrow, quietly chuckling to himself as he watches your confusion. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

Typically when someone is cheating or having an affair, it’s a private matter. Not something they want out in the open, and certainly not something they want their child to find out about.

“My parents don’t really care for each other, romantically speaking. Never have. They had me to cement their marriage and so I could take over the family business one day. They were friends, met in college and their families decided they should get married to merge the businesses.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for them to just get a divorce?”

Satoru shrugs again, “Don’t know. Dad’s seeing a few people, it works for them.”

You stare at Satoru for a few moments, eyes flickering between his. He’s totally uncensored with the conversation you just had. Which makes sense.

His views on relationships make more sense now, keeping things casual, with no real commitment. Even though his parents are married and had him, it’s essentially the same thing. It’s what he watched and saw his entire life growing up, emulating that in his own relationships as he got older.

“I don’t want that.” Satoru states unprompted before sighing, “I mean I thought I did, before. But not anymore.

“What do you mean?” You ask quietly, stepping between his legs, moving his bangs away from his eyes.

He wraps his arms around your waist, looking up at you with gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, “I want someone I can be happy with. I want to be with you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He rests his cheek on your stomach as you card your fingers through his hair, contemplating his words before putting the back of your hand on his forehead. He looks up at you confused narrowed eyes.

“Just had to check to see if you have a fever.”

He’s unamused with your antics, “Haha. I’m being serious.”

“I know,” You answer softly, “Just hard to believe this is the same Gojo Satoru who was only interested in causal relationships a few months ago. Now he’s talking about forever?”

“It’s different with you.”

You smile, cheeks flushed because you can see the sincerity in his eyes. You know he’s uncomfortable, talking about his feelings, having explained this family dynamic to you, so you tease him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Babe. You sound so crazy right now.” He laughs, pulling you into his lap and kissing your lips before the two of you lay on the couch, getting ready to start the movie.

The last few days have been filled with hard conversations, getting to know each other on a deeper level than you ever have before. It’s a big step forward, sharing these details and secrets of your home life.

As you watch him, focused on the movie, you know you wouldn’t want to have had these conversations with anyone else.

January 2012

The rest of the week goes by quickly, celebrating new years, venturing into all of the rooms in the estate and exploring every nook and cranny of the yard. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to you but on the back patio, they have a hot tub that the two of you used a few times, along with a little hot spring in the back, far off from the house.

Everything is gorgeous and maintained even in Winter, and there’s no doubt it would look even better in the Spring and Summer when all of the hedges and flowers are in bloom.

Your mom did call once she realized you weren’t at home, and you begrudgingly answered at Satoru’s insistence. He wanted to speak to her, especially after hearing the shit she had to say to you about leaving unannounced but you didn’t let him.

Satoru took you shopping to get the items needed for both of your upcoming classes and to do some shopping in general. He took you to all of his favorite pastry shops along the way and went back to the little ramen shop the two of you discovered during your first date.

After a few nights of forced dinners with his parents, his mom relented, letting the two of you have your time together uninterrupted. You’re not sure if Satoru or if his father said something to her, or if she decided to leave the two of you to your peace on her own, either way, you’re not complaining about it.

It’s the night before you and Satoru are heading back to his house just off campus, to spend the weekend with your friends before the semester starts. He’s already asleep, having fallen asleep in his bed, holding you close while some cheesy Christmas romance movie you wanted to watch played on his TV.

You’re in one of his oversized t-shirts, fingers running through his soft tresses, listening to his light snores until the credits roll. It’s the middle of the night, and the two of you have planned to wake up early and get breakfast before heading back to college life.

Satoru has his face against your chest, and you’re amazed you’re able to slip out from under him without waking him, deciding to go downstairs to the kitchen and get something to drink before heading back to bed.

The house is quiet with no signs of life as you make your way down the steps and into the kitchen, the only sounds to be heard coming from the wind blowing and wildlife outside.

You’re startled when you walk into the kitchen and find his mom quietly sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island in her nightgown, legs crossed one over the other. She’s tapping away on her phone, looking up with sharp eyes when she notices you come into the room.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I came down for some water. I didn’t realize anyone was still awake.”

She watches for a moment as you smile awkwardly, pulling down the hem of Satoru’s shirt as you make your way to the cabinet to grab a glass.

“What do you think you’re doing with my son?” Her voice isn’t harsh per se, more curious than anything.

You watch her for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek before replying honestly, “We’re just getting to know one another. I’m not after anything if that’s what you think.”

“You won’t fit in with our family.”

You sigh, setting the glass on the kitchen island, “I love Satoru, hard edges and all. If he’s happy with me, then honestly, that’s all that matters.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest, “Love doesn’t matter when you’re making a name for yourself and have a family legacy to uphold.”

“It’s really unfortunate that that’s what you believe.”

His mom watches as you grab the glass, filling it with ice and water before drinking it, setting the used cup in the sink. You’re about to make your way out of the kitchen and back upstairs before she says, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. Satoru’s interests have always been… fleeting. Much like his father's. He’ll find a reason to end things, one way or another.”

You purse your lips, turning back to meet her gaze, “I’ll worry about that when and if the time comes.”

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @yogurttea @slut-jr @crystxlline @ritsatoru @abba-simp @myabae @etherealkakashi @hyperfixationsporfavor @yihona-san06 @ambersea7 @knightoflove

[alkhale]

change the channel (Ko-Fi Request) Kenma Kozume/Camgirl!Omega!Reader

hello! Id love a kenma x reader fic (maybe a/b/o) ?? Also, thank you so so much for writing so many amazing fanfics :) every time I read a new chapter from any of your stories, it makes my day <3 

OFC COURSE YOU CAN!!!! And thank you so much for your support and for your donation! AND THANK YOU!! I know this one is long overdue, but I hope you enjoy!

I’m also killing two birds with this one, it’s substituting for Typetober Day 16: back and forth (using change the channel instead)

title: change the channel

pairing: Kenma Kozume/Omega!Reader

rating: T/very slight M

summary:

Kenma taps his phone again, right back at your picture. He stares at you with wide, piercing eyes, leaning across the table and quickly saying, reverent and eager—

“I want to buy your game from you.”

Today, sitting here beside you in your bag, are fully equipped items to try and protect you from the creepy, deranged, rich stranger you’d been about to meet. Today, you were fully expecting to unleash a fury building up inside of you over an injustice you can’t tackle on your own in your society on some poor, unsuspecting alpha—

Here, sitting in front of you, is a self-claimed internet game streamer, who wants to buy your… special edition… game?

“You want…” you say, slowly, making sure you don’t have this wrong, “...my game?”

He nods.

You open your mouth. It closes. You open it again, raise a finger, and then press your lips together, staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “What?”

link to AO3 for easier reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446191

Omegachion has signed on!

The monitor screen flickers to life. 

An empty room appears. A plush, pink cushioned desk chair is in view. Along the cream, soft colored walls are a series of posters that usual garner less attention. A bookshelf is tucked to the side, complete with a set of potted plants hanging in clean pots—clearly loved. Within the stack of books sits shelves stuffed full with what looks to be discs and an assortment of other items.

The website's main frame appears—SecondGlanceStreaming.com. The design is sleek and black—clean and unassuming. A password is prompted, followed by a series of typed keys and then a click.

On the side of the screen a chatroom appears, coupled with a monitored security system in place established by the website. A cherry icon pops to life. Once the chatroom opens, the entire website flickers with light.

Omegalovers has signed on.

Rockyroadncream has signed on.

Omegasarekings has signed on.

Cumqueen324 has signed on.

Mrknottt has signed on.

Msbyjackalboi23 has signed on.

Openwideandsmile has signed on.

Sunnydayandnight has signed on.

Marshmellowtime has signed on.

Thecoolestalpha has signed on.

Bettagetbeta has signed on.

KingKodzuken has signed on.

Kodzu00 has signed on.

The chatrooms explodes with messages. A series of greetings are quickly issued by long-time fans and watchers of the streams, asking how your day was and how you’re feeling. A few more perverse, slimy messages are mixed in-between, demanding for the crude and obscene. A few others snipe back, telling the users to get their hands out of their pants while a series of other users greet each other instead, talking about the excitement over tonight's stream.

You hang back a bit, one arm crossed under your chest, puffed up with the fleecy soft fabric of your jacket while the other hand holds a jelly drink, sipping it in silence. You watch the chatroom explode, quickly gaining more and more users as others signed on to your stream. You check the time on your phone, sighing before you finish off your drink and toss it into the trash can.

You place the fuzzy bunny mask over your eyes, checking how you look in the mirror. You swipe your mouth with your thumb, applying your lip gloss and then smiling cutely at your reflection.

“Alright,” you say. “The goal tonight is 7,000 cherries… you got this!”

You clap your hands over your face and beam. Showtime.

You slide into the monitor’s view, the webcam flickering to life. The chat comes back with more force, messages spamming into the box and a series of cherries already floating into the screen. You beam, laughing as you wave to your viewers and blow them all kisses. “Hello! Hello everyone! I love to see so many of you are so punctual… Needy omegas like me… we love reliable people, you know?”

You hold back a snicker as the chat increases with your words. People shooting messages back at you as you let out a cute giggle. Tonight’s outfit is nothing but a cotton candy pink fleece zip-up that falls to the top of your thighs, also exposing your bare, smooth collarbones. It’s a special occasion, so you’re going the extra mile.

“How are we all doing tonight?” you ask sweetly, holding your chin up with your hands as you watch the chatroom, skimming over the responses. “Aw, Bettagetbeta, I’m sorry to hear that! I hope things get better for you… do you need a hug?”

Cherry icons pop up over your screen. 50. 30. 10. You smile, opening your arms to the camera. “There! I’ll make all your problems go away, okay?”

You bat your eyes under the mask, showing them your bare wrists and giving them a little rub with your thumbs. “You can scent me if you’d like… would that make you feel better?”

Bettagetbeta has gifted you 30 cherries!

Bigboialpha has gifted you 350 cherries!

“Bigboialpha!” you squeak, covering your mouth with your hands. “That’s too sweet of you! Did you want to scent me that badly?”

Your chatroom shakes from the force of scrambled messages. You smile, shyly running a finger up and down the slightly swollen scent glands of your wrist. You’ve timed this just right—and just as you thought, your viewers notice too, instantly spamming the boxes with more fervent messages, begging to scent you, begging to be with you, wrap you up in their smells—

(God, you make me want to vomit.)

“If you’re extra good,” you say sweetly, “you could… maybe even…”

You tease show off more of your bare shoulder, showing a pink bra strap. You slightly expose the side of your neck, bringing your fingers up dangerously close to your most sensitive scent glands. Cherry icons flash across the screen and you hold back an excited grin, feet tapping anxiously underneath your desk.

There’s a new flurry of disgusting messages, of big, handsome alphas promising to do all kinds of things to you if you’d let them. You roll your eyes under your mask, holding back curling your lip in disgust as they prattle on about how they’d take care of you, make you feel so, so good and—

“All right, all right, that’s enough teasing, right?” you say. “Everyone, thank you so much for signing on again tonight! If you’re new to my streams, welcome! We’re so happy to have you. I’m lucky to have you. It’s a special night tonight, you know why?”

Gonna come for us on screen?

Face reveal! Face reveal!

Omegachion i would do anything for u

Pls let me touch u

Take off ur jacket

Stfu and let her talk u horn dogs

Fking disgusting dont ruin the stream

Open ur legs, baby girl

“Because!” you say, throwing your arms into the air. You spin once in your chair, showing off the room and stopping right in front of the screen again. “I just got it in the mail today…”

You bring up the sleek red box that’d been waiting to the side of your desk. You beam, showing it off to your viewers. “Tadah! Do you know what this is? It’s a gift from our generous website hosts—a gift for reaching the Gold Status on streaming! Everyone, thank you so much! I couldn’t have done this without you!”

The chatroom pops with congratulations. There’s some demanding comments, ordering for a consolation prize. You skim through them all, smiling a bit at the paragraphs of kind words and thanks. They’re the viewers you wish you could treat with a little more care, give them something a little more for all they do.

“Want to see what the gift was?” you ask. You pop open the lid and show off the gift—a dark red, leather collar coupled with a golden dog tag. It’s a stylish thing, slim fitted and clearly of great quality, there’s a thickened edge to the leather, coupled with a lock and key.

It’s an omega collar.

You smile through your teeth. The stench of the perfume from the box makes you want to wretch, but you hold it for the camera as your viewers beg you to put it on. “Oh, I don’t know… should I?”

You play with it, showing it off to them against the column of your neck. They’re feverish and desperate. 

“I don’t deserve something this nice,” you say, shaking your head.

Tease

Don’t cover up that beautiful neck

Dont blueball us

I only want to see u in my collar

“That’s right,” you say innocently. “I don’t want to cover up what belongs to you guys…” you show off your neck to them again, touching with your fingertips your own bonding gland, unmarked and bare. The chatroom is almost unrecognizable, going off into a feeding frenzy.

You turn back to the screen, smiling.

(You’re like babies.)

You drop the box out of view of the camera into your trashcan, kicking it under the table with more force than necessary. You ought to burn the fucking thing but leather probably doesn’t burn well. 

I can’t believe I’m already at 4,000 cherries. You feel excitement replace the disgust, toes curling against your hardwood floor. You got this, amp it up a little bit.

“Since I couldn’t have made it this far without all of you,” you say, touching a hand to your chest and playing with your zipper. “I wanted to do something special—not just this stream! But a nice little event, how does that sound?”

You click your mouse, opening up a new box and icon for your viewers. “Can everyone see the royalty program alright? Yeah? Perfect! If you look, you’ll see the cute little banner we had set up and everything.”

You hold up your phone, smiling beside it. “For these set prices, I’ll be doing a series of special events, just for all of you guys for all the support you’ve given me!”

You point.

“50 cherries and you get a sweet text with a picture from me,” you say. “Each picture will be different, and none of them alike! Keep it between us though, okay? Hehe, I mean it! For 100 cherries, I’ll do a one minute call and for 300 cherries, a three minute call, just with you! For 500, we’ll do a private web-chat session and finally, the big one…”

You smile, “For 1,500 cherries, I’ll be doing a special, in-person meet and greet! How does that sound?”

The reactions are instantaneous.

Cherries already start popping up all over your screen, users filling out the roles and eagerly thanking you for everything while others spit at the prices. You ignore those comments, secretly marking certain users to be blocked. You know the last one is outrageous, how could it not be? Did they think you’d want to meet with any of them? You’d discussed this with several other streamers and they’d all done similar things—this deterred creeps and kept you safe. Usually no one ended up doing the meet and greet. It was too expensive. 

It was foolproof.

I can’t wait to hear your voice

Will it be nudes

I want nudes

Thank you so much for doing this!

“I should be the one thanking you guys!” you squeal. Your eyes dart to the corner of your screen, watching the cherries roll in. Your heartbeat accelerates and you do the quick math in your head. “Oh my goodness! Sitwhereveryoulike, thank you so much for the Cherries! And you too, theprettiestalpha! Thank you!”

As it should be. You grin at the screen, prattling on with sweet words and thanks. You teasingly unzip a little more of your jacket, greedily watching the cherries pop-up all over the screen, trying to make conversation where you can and—

A single chat bubble pops up in the corner. You almost miss the question, but you’re almost certain your eyes don’t betray you. If you hadn’t seen the title so many times, you would’ve blown right past it.

(But you’re a true fan, down to your core, you could never miss a mention of—)

Is your username based on Water Emblem?

“Hello, Kodzu00!” you say quickly, trying to stifle your surprise. “Yes, it is! You must be new to the streams.”

You gesture behind you, smiling shyly at the poster of Varth on the back of your wall. “I’m actually a bit of a fan! I know the series is old and everyone’s excited for the new reboots, but I grew up with the old one.”

Ah, stop right there, don’t keep talking about it. You’re going to lose viewers! Your fingers fly back to your zipper, teasingly dragging it down another inch. You could talk about Water Emblem for hours, but you can’t—this is a stream after all. “Bigboialpha! I guess we’ll be having that private webchat after all… mhm! I’m looking forward to it—huh? What I’ll be wearing? Well…”

You cutely run your fingers up and down the column of your neck, bringing their attention back to your scent glands. “Would you… pick for me?”

You almost gag at the comment suggestions. You watch more cherries roll in—shit, another 500? I might make my goal after all! No, you would make your goal. You have to. The sooner you rake in the dough from these streams, the sooner you could—

For the meet and greet, would it be in person?

You blink, startled by the question. You quickly glance back to the username. Kudzu00 again? “Uh, yes! Yes, it would be~ I’d pick a nice location for us and we’d meet. Wouldn’t that be nice everyone?”

For how long?

Who even is this lol

Damn big bucks

Show us the tits already

Pls sit on my face

Your outfit is so cute today!

You swallow nervously. Calm down. What are you even freaking out for? No one in their right mind was ever going to drop that much money to meet with some stranger from the internet—no one.

“Fifteen minutes,” you say cheerfully, keeping one eye on the chat. Have I seen this user before? “There’s a lot we could do—ah, I mean talk about in fifteen minutes, right?”

Kodzu00 is typing…

The chat bubble disappears. You eye it for a few more seconds before shrugging your shoulders. Shake it off. You needed to keep this celebration stream going. You slyly bring your bare knees up and watch the chat go a little more wild, quick questions being shot about whether or not you’re wearing anything under that jacket. You keep the conversations going, sweetly asking the users about what they’d like to do, what kind of pictures and if—

A bright icon flashes on your screen. You glance over.

Kodzu00 has gifted you 3,000 cherries!

You freeze.

On your monitor the chat continues to fire off. A few people notice the notification. You blink, once, twice, before taking a second glance at the numbers.

3,000.

3,000 cherries?

3,000….

The calculation is quick in your head. You’re terribly good with money, sadly. The final statement minus the small deduction for processing appears in your mind’s eye and you balk.

HOLY FUCK.

Lol i think u broke her

God damn

Congratulations, Omegachion!

“K-K-Kodzu00!” you say, head spinning. “Thank you so much! Oh—oh my goodness! Thank you so much for your donation!” What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck— “I can’t believe you’d be so generous! Thank you so much! I’m so excited to meet you! Our first meet and greet!”

WHAT THE FUCK?

You quickly try to hold your composure, continuing with the stream. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Finish the show! You laugh, trying not to look at the history of the notification and focusing on your show instead. You thank every piece of good sense inside you for using a mask, hiding the sweat rolling down your face as you teasingly stand up for your audience, bending down a bit.

“Now, how about we end the night with a little… cuddle, hmm?” you say shakily, unzipping your jacket the rest of the way to show off the lacy, soft pink color of your bra. The chat bubbles pop up by the dozens, but you never see even a lick of Kodzu00 again. What the hell? “C’mon, you know how badly I wish you were here to scent me… wrap me up in that smell of yours…”

(Give them what they all want.)

What feels like hours finally passes in a span of minutes and you quickly say goodbye to your watchers, blowing them a kiss and zipping your jacket backup as you finally sign off. You sit there, staring at the screen of your loading page, dumbfounded.

Limply, your finger finds its way to your mouse. You give it a click.

The final total for your earnings tonight appears in a tacky, almost shady colored box. You stare at it in silence.

9,750 Cherries.

Nine…. Nine thousand…

Almost 1,000,000 yen? 

“Yes!” you screech, grabbing your head with your hands as you fly up from your chair. You kick the stupid, plush pink thing aside. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

This is insane! You almost want to cry in disbelief. This is—this is it! This is what I needed! I’m so close! I’m so close! You know the other streams won’t rake in nearly as much, but this is the final push you needed—if you kept up this kind of participation for another few months, your fees would be nothing! You’d be able to even afford a little extra and get something nice, replace your bathtub and treat yourself to an expensive dinner and all thanks to this stupid job and—

The grand, generous donation of Kodzu00—

You freeze. Your pure, unrestrained elation plummets. Reality clocks you sideways in the face and you slap yourself for being so dumb—how could I even forget? Your eyes dart back to the screen and you pull up the donation history, staring in dark silence at the simple, blaring donation of cherries, already transferred to your account and not even pending and—

Your joy is quickly replaced with something much more dire. You gape at the amount. The award title beside it appears. You stare.

And stare.

A thirty minute meet and greet.

You’d be meeting in person with this person for at least half and hour and—

What the hell?

You power off your screens, flying to your room and kicking the streaming room door shut behind you. You lunge for your bed, scrambling for your laptop, covered in Water Emblem stickers. You pop it open, quickly pulling up your admin account for the streaming sight and accessing your private passwords. You pull up the user history for all your past streams, typing in the username Kodzu00—

Nothing?

You stare at the blank history. The only entry is tonight’s stream. The very first time this user has ever showed up.

Alarm bells start ringing in your head. You pull up your emergency tab, a self-made list of all your red-flag boxes to check in cases like this for your safety. You click on Kodzu00’s account, searching through their profile.

MADE THIS MORNING? You gape in disbelief, staring at the entirely blank profile. It’s even void of an icon for a profile pic. The account was literally made today, just for this stream, and this god damn stranger just gifted you basically 300,000 yen—

This is insane! All your alarm bells nearly fall off their stands. You search for any kind of information, scrambling and double-checking your banned users lists for any potential matches. Was it some creep trying to meet you from before? A stalker? Were they under a different name and made the separate account just to do this to you so they wouldn’t get caught? What’s their deal?

(What’s your selling point for this whole thing?)

You pause, fingers halting over your keyboard.

You’ve had rich donations before. Users with too much time and money on their hands—users you’re gladly willing to take from in the pursuit of a better life for yourself. Your crowd ranges anyway; from nervous, shy little dorks to kind, quiet people looking for company to disgusting, wretched lechers and stupid alphas who like nothing more than little, docile omegas to rub their garbage scent over—

You stare at Kodzu00’s user profile, feeling something bitter and dark and ugly bubble up in the pits of your stomach.

Any person, male or female, who’d be willing to drop that much money to meet with a streamer like you, notorious for what you do, for what you market—can’t be a good person by any means.

They only want one thing.

You grind your teeth, knowing you’ve got no choice but to reap what you sowed. This was the path to quick cash you chose, so you can’t back down now. You’ll just have to do everything in your power to make sure you remain successful.

You close your laptop screen, ripping your stupid mask off your face and tossing it to the side.

You weren’t backing down.

--- (change the channel) ----

You started streaming in high school.

The middle of your last year, to be exact.

It started off simple enough, to be honest. Nothing eventful, nothing worth writing biographies or harrowing documentaries off of. It was another story amidst the thousands in Tokyo’s Metropolitan streets.

By all legal health records and means, you are an omega.

(What does that mean?)

Within Tokyo’s urban and suburban streets, it means a collection of different ideals and social norms. It means nothing to plenty, it means everything to others—to your youthful eyes growing up, it’d just meant you were a little different from some of your other peers, but not isolated, no, never isolated—there were other omegas, after all, despite the smaller population.

You get along with people fine. You make friends fine, have a few crushes, get average enough grades and have a particular fondness for social media—you just live your life on top of having to deal with certain physiological functions others around you may not experience the same.

You think by all means until your last year of high school, that it really does mean nothing. Society is so modern now, people don’t even blink, right? There’s none of those second gender stereotypes or outrageous cult worships—you’re just another person trying to live their life to the fullest.

“A doctor? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You smiled at your teacher in the faculty office. See? Normal—

You stopped.

“See, that’s a great dream,” the teacher said, pointing to your paper. He tapped it, scratching his rough stubble. “But it’s not very realistic with your current standing, you know?”

“You mean my grades? I can work extra hard. They’ve been more than above passing, and what really matters is the entrance exams and testing—”

“Not just that,” he said. He pulled up your student file. He gave you a second look, up and down, and he seemed to find pity in your hopefully confused expression. “Listen, (L/n), here’s the thing—a doctor… is a pretty important position, you know? Very important.”

You nodded like you didn’t already know that. Like you hadn’t been spending the last years of your educational life aspiring toward that goal, that dream.

“They need to be physically… available,” your teacher said. “They have to work outrageous shift hours, they have to work hard on top of that, and then they have to take special medication to regulate their pheromones if they need to, and then the schooling on top of all that is hard work.”

You waited for your teacher to explain why any of those things was supposed to get in the way of your one and only dream of saving lives.

“I’ll make this easy for you to understand, kid,” you teacher said. He taps his nametag, pointing to his little alpha symbol.

“Omegas just don’t become doctors.”

Your dainty, prettily crafted world of normalcy and mundane content shattered around you in one violent, screeching halt.

You smiled at your teacher, nails digging painfully into your thighs.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just not a typical job preference,” your teacher said. “Look, you’re not the only one, I promise. There are a few omega doctors, sure, we need them anyway to make things easier or make sense of stuff alpha based doctors or betas might not understand, but the demand isn’t high and the placement is extremely competitive. Trust me, kid. I know.”

You kind of wanted to spit at your teacher that no, this pot-bellied, alpha gym teacher couldn’t possibly know more than you do about trying to break into the medical industry as an omega. But the thing is—what are the statistics? You hardly see any. Every website you’d researched thus far has always been welcoming, nowhere on their platforms or pamphlets saying anything about omegas being doctors or not and—

You froze.

“Everyone is welcome!” the videos all said. “Everyone is encouraged to try!”

“This is the real truth,” your teacher said. “They’ll all tell you you can do it because they’re not allowed to discriminate or turn anyone away. They’ll let you do whatever you want, but when it really comes down to the acceptances or not? You’ll just get turned away and you’ll have wasted all that time for nothing.

“Omegas aren’t considered suitable candidates for doctors,” your teacher said. “That market tends to go to betas, believe it or not. A nice little mediator.”

Your teacher tossed your career planning forms onto a stack of dozens. You stared at it, smiling continuously with your fingers digging harder into your thighs. He sighed, waving a hand.

“You should shoot for a hospital receptionist,” your teacher said. “It’s the next best thing, right? Or you could teach biology at a school instead. You might even be able to get by as a school nurse—”

“I’m going to apply to medical school.”

Your teacher stopped, looking at you.

You smiled back at him.

(Being an omega was supposed to stop you?)

What a load of shit.

“I don’t really care about anything else,” you said. “I’ve wanted to become a doctor my whole life. If people say I can’t do it because of something they can’t even see, then I’m still going to do it. They can’t stop me.”

Your teacher stared at you for a few minutes. He leaned back in his chair, considering his next words before he finally said—

“You got the money?”

You stopped.

Your family is pitifully lower middle class. Your parents make enough to pay the bills, afford a vacation every now and then, and just get by fair enough without being too stressed—but small issues, like your own medical costs for heat suppressants or a flat tire can easily set your family back several paychecks.

No, you don’t have money for medical school. You’d already known that looking at all the pamphlets. But there were scholarships and stipends and loans—

“If you want to waste your time with this pipe dream, it’s not my job to stop you,” he said, pointing to your career form. “It’s not really ethical either, so don’t come back and file any lawsuits against me. But your medical schools don’t offer many scholarships, and the ones they do aren’t going to go to that one, average ranking omega they’d rather not even have to worry about.”

Your teacher shrugged.

“Go ahead and be a doctor, kid, but you’re going to need money to do it.”

(This is the reality. People are not equal. Being an omega means—)

Means what?

-- ---- (change the channel) ----

You remember laying in your bed that night, scrolling mindlessly through random social media outlets. You’d spent the last several hours searching extensively for any and all scholarships you might even remotely be able to apply for, but none of them seemed willing to help an omega into their waiting hospital wings—your best bet was going to be taking out a loan. Several. That’s on top of cram school costs, textbooks, entrance fees and whether or not I can pass the exam—

No, you would. You had too. You weren’t about to let some stupid, invisible consensus a group of people somewhere or another had decided on stop you.

“Thank you again for the generous donations! You guys are too good to me!”

You’d paused, staring at your bright screen. One of the streamers you followed from time to time—he was an omega, cute and docile and in all honesty, probably the picture perfect cookie cutter definition of one. He always posted great tips on fashion or about cute cafes he enjoyed, and always seemed to be proud of the fact that he was an omega despite how cringingly he played into the stereotypes—

You glanced at his caption, freezing in disbelief.

Designer bags littered his floor. He showed off his pretty watch, batting his lashes at the camera, talking about how the donations from last night’s stream helped him live a good, cushiony life, making him feel like he was being taken care of even without an alpha by his side.

You’d stalked his account almost religiously for the next few weeks, watching his streams, watching the way he… flaunted his nature as an omega. Your parents had always told you you were fine the way you were, but being an omega had never been something to be proud of—you’d just preferred to act like a beta more than anything else. What was the point? To some extent, your teacher was right, there were no benefits to being an omega except—

“Thank you again for all your donations!”

You pulled up your laptop, searching extensively for every little obscure article you could find on the nature of streaming services. You’d never taken social media outlets that seriously, always looked at influencers and vloggers with a grain of salt—you were aspiring to be a full-time heart surgeon after all, but if there was actually something...reasonable behind the way all these people would act, proudly showing off the fact that they were omegas in exchange for something monetary…

(Did people enjoy this?)

Yeah you can make money from it, lol.

You stared at the internet thread, blinking in disbelief.

One user amongst thousands in the thread had responded to your question.

Ppl always keep saying that omegas are this and that. Society likes to paint a pretty picture of what we call equality. Ads and those videos u watch in school and stuff, they all tell u you can be whatever u want to be if u try, but that’s not rlly the truth. The only thing they were honest about was that you’d have to work hard for what you want in life.

You scrolled down.

You have to do the research on ur own and find respectable sites. I can give u recommendations, but u have to kind of get yourself prepared for what you’re signing up for too. Everyone likes to go on television and talk about how all three genders are the same, but we’re not. It’s not even just whether ur female or male anymore, everyone always finds something to pick at, don’t they?

U might get hate for it but whatever, those people who sit on a nicer chair than you and don’t pay your bills don’t get to criticize you for what you want to do and how u do it.

They always tell us we can’t do things because we’re omegas. That we have to be a certain way because we’re omegas and we’re only good for one thing.

So just give them what they want.

And suck them dry.

You remember clearly, that night, pulling up the user’s account and shooting them the message that would change your life.

What sites do you recommend for beginners?

Youcanruletheworld is typing…

----- (change the channel) -----

You triple check all your items, rearranging them on your bed in front of you.

Your outfit is cute, matching your streamer personality but remaining modest enough to keep you protected from unwanted attention. You’ll be wearing a face mask on top of it, just for the extra mile too. You’d already reached out to this Kodzu00 and sent them the notification for where to meet and when, and what you’d look like so they’d be able to find you. Wisely, as always, you picked a neutral location—an extremely popular cafe two hours away from your house just to be safe.

Safety alarm—check. Pepper spray, check. Pheromone repellent, check. Emergency contact button, check. Location synced devices and emergency heat suppressant pills on top of—

You stare at the last item. It comes special with the standard emergency omega safety kit—you almost spit at the name—it’s a quick, easy attachable lock-on collar to protect your bonding glands in the case of an unruly and disgusting attack.

You want to call it ridiculous.

(Behind your eyes you see the comments scrolling over the glowing screen. You see the leering words and the lecherous promises and the disgusting sentences that rattle your brain and make you stand a minute longer in the shower, fingernails digging into your skin—)

You don’t say anything, zipping the bag closed and taking all your items with you.

---- (change the channel) -----

Thirty minutes, it’s just thirty minutes, you can do this. You aggressively slurp on your straw, furiously dogging the cafe patrons with your eyes, keeping them narrowed and peeled for anyone who ought to fit the bill over what you were expecting to meet today. Thirty minutes.

The black iced coffee with an added two shots isn’t doing anything to calm your nerves, but it’s doing everything you need to keep yourself pumped and ready to go at a moment’s notice. The cafe is busy, just as always, with people swarming left and right, in and out—this creep won’t be able to do any of their normal creep tendencies in a place like this.

You bite your straw, tapping your feet under the table.

Alright, Kodzu00, do your worst. I’m leaving here after the thirty and I’m taking the cash with me—

“Excuse me,” you stop, mouth hovering and open over your near chewed through straw, “are you… uh… Omegachion?”

Hearing your streamer username in real life makes you both want to gag and sigh in happiness. The username was arguably the only way for you to feel remotely sane logging into the streaming service every time for your scheduled program because Water Emblem got you through anything, including all the cram sessions to get into medical school.

Your eyes swing rapidly to your right, moving your head so fast you take your straw with you. 

Ice coffee drips onto the table.

The young man standing in front of you is… is, truthfully, not what you expected. Okay, sure, weirdos on the internet come in all shapes and sizes, but to your own bias, you’ve crafted a bit of a face for the specific types of users who flood your streams. He narrowly passes even an inch of those ideas, with the slightly messy hair, the baggy clothes that look like all he does is stay in front of his computer all day and the dark lines under his eyes, but other than that—

He’s a lean young man, from what you can barely tell, underneath the baggy black sweatshirts and the sleek black joggers, lined in white with a logo you don’t recognize. There’s a dark cap on top of his head as well, and he’s sporting a simple black face mask, just like you—the most color the damn guy has is the bleached blonde tips still growing out past his roots, spilling a bit past his shoulders while the rest is gathered back into a bun.

In an instant you quickly size him up—the guy’s probably only a few inches taller than you and he can’t be that much older or younger, somewhere probably around your age.

You pluck out your straw. He squints faintly at you, holding his phone, glancing back at his screen and then back to you and shifting, albeit uncertainly. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.

“You’re,” you start, “uh, you’re Kodzu00?”

“Yes,” he says. “That’s… me.”

You stare.

He stares right back.

(His golden eyes are almost like slits, you realize, a bit stunned, they drip gold and heather.)

He has pretty eyes.

“It’s,” he says, awkward, not sounding friendly at all, “...nice to meet you…”

And then reality comes back, this time with a spinning roundhouse right to your face.

This is the guy who just dropped money to come and meet you here today.

This guy.

You stare at him in disbelief.

Kodzu00 stands there in front of you, looking as though he wished he could melt right through the floor and disappear. He slowly starts to make his way into the chair opposite of you, pulling it out and taking a seat, setting his phone down beside him like it’s a lifeline and—

Your eyes bulge at the sight of his watch. You know how much that watch costs.

Your alarm bells start firing off again. For a brief moment, unease colors your scent, lightly flooding the area until you instantly reel it back in. Kodzu00 glances up at you for a second but you keep your face calm and friendly, quickly slipping back into your streamer personality, your best mask and first line of defense against whatever the hell this weirdo wants with you and time is ticking—

Before you can even utter a single word, Kodzu00 pulls down his mask.

(He’s… well, he’s not bad looking either, in a… weird kind of way.)

“Look, I need to clear the air first and get this on the table,” he says it a bit quickly, despite the low, almost uncaring inclination to his tone. You blink at him. The tips of his ears are staining pink beneath the fading streaks of blonde and he continues, “I’m not here for your streams.”

You blink.

You stare at him, dumbfounded and hopelessly confused.

“I’ve never even seen them before until last night,” he says just as quickly, looking embarrassed to even utter those words. “Let’s get that straight, okay? So I’m not… here for… that.”

That.

“That?” you say like a robot.

He looks more and more uncomfortable, but he presses on, whispering quickly over the table, “Yeah. I’m not here for… that. So… you can… uh… just be normal, I guess.”

You stare at Kodzu00, the man who’s just payed off nearly the last of your student loans in debt, who’s only here in front of you today because he got in touch with you through one of those very streams which very much markets that, which is meant to appeal to all the what-nots who just want to see an omega bat her eyelashes and act like an omega, to feel comforted or have their egos stroked and—

“I don’t watch any streams like that,” he adds for good measure. “I don’t. One of my viewers reached out to me because… well… because they watched your streams and noticed something and mentioned it to me, so I wanted to check it out myself.”

Oh my god. You sit there in the middle of the bustling cafe. Am I about to die? This is it, isn’t it. Kodzu00 is actually some kind of crazy internet stalker or person and you’re about to get stabbed right across the cafe table and this will be the end, you’ll never even get to save anyone’s life or help anyone and their bad hearts or do anything beyond your stupid streams and that’s all you’ll be remembered for.

“Kodzu00 is just a name I made for that night,” he says quickly. “Online I run a gaming channel under the user Kodzuken—you can just call me Kenma though. Kenma Kozume.”

“Uh,” you say. “Kucina. You can call me Kucina.” You are not giving your real name out to this stranger who can potentially threaten your entire standing in your medical career and out you for the unethical nature of how you’ve been procuring money to pay your school fees—

Kenma briefly pauses, eyes flickering up to you. He looks a bit pleased with your choice of alias but quickly glances back to his phone. You feel, strangely, a little… a little happy too.

Wait, wait, wait. No, this guy is a weirdo and don’t forget that he’s a complete stranger online claiming to be a game streamer and—

“The only reason I’m here today is for this,” he says, pulling out his phone. You instantly grow wary, inching back a bit from the table. There’s a bit of excitement finally creeping into his otherwise mundane voice, and it’s giving you the spooks. Kenma taps, quickly navigating his screen before he pulls up one blurred, pixelated image and turns his screen to show it to you.

“Why is this a screenshot of my room?” you say roughly, narrowing your eyes at him. You point to the screen shot of your streaming room and your face caught mid-speech, making you look dumb. “What are you trying to—”

“It’s not that,” he says, sounding a bit stressed out by this whole ordeal. He looks visibly uncomfortable with the image of you, only in your bright pink bra and you raise an eyebrow at him, suspicious as he zooms in and quickly moves the screen to—

“This,” he says, fervent, almost reverent actually, “is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Carefully, still suspicious, you lean over the table and look closer at his phone screen. You follow his finger, quickly recognizing your bookshelf, your posters, and then right beside Kenma’s fingertip is—

You blink.

You know exactly what he’s pointing to.

You also know exactly what it looks like in perfect detail despite the blurry picture. It’s a large box, big enough to hold against your chest, sleek white and blue, with silver lettering line in a kind of glowing, aqua teal—the cover art for the product had been top of the line, complete with an engraved metal clasp that opened up to reveal an entire, glossy artbook, coupled with a cd of the game’s soundtrack and also—

“Water Emblem’s Special Anniversary Edition?”

“Yes!” he almost shouts. You jump. Kenma quickly gestures to his screen, to your room and your game and points at it with fervor. His eyes are actually shiny, you stare at him, a little in awe. “Do you know what this is?”

“Of course I do!” you say, offended. “I own the game. It’s Water Emblem: Light Dragon! Personally my favorite game in the entire franchise and the game that really got the series into the world market—it’s part of what started its entire cult following. This is the special edition that came out years ago, wow, I can’t believe it’s been so long! I remember waiting in line for it and—”

“That’s exactly it!” Kenma says, throwing his hands up into hair, grabbing it beneath his cap. You blink at him, getting a little excited. “This game—this particular edition re-launched for one night of sales only in the creator’s hometown and here in Tokyo! It came with a companion edition and most people were only able to get one or the other because it was sold on opposite ends of Japan!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I know! I stayed with relatives in the summer and timed it out so I could grab it! They only sold so little copies… that was the best night of my life, I couldn’t believe it, even though the game didn’t seem to do that well at first until later…”

“Because no one respected the greatness of the game back then,” Kenma says bitterly. You nod. “Now everyone knows but the rest of the editions have all either been trashed or are kept by collectors somewhere else, I’ve been searching for years for a copy that was at least still playable, even without the extra goods—”

“But the goods are the best part!” you shout in disbelief. Kenma looks at you like your crazy. “The art book, the soundtrack, the interview with the creator—they all play their part in bringing the game to life!”

“This is what I wanted to discuss with you,” Kenma says seriously, lacing his fingers nervously together and staring you down across the table. You suddenly feel uneasy, unnerved by the piercing, golden gaze.

“You own what might very well be one of the last, in-tact, best kept qualities of this edition in Japan,” Kenma says. “When this edition and its counterpart launched, the second issue, the black one—it came with a playable DLC code that can only be activated when you have its partner code and it unlocks an entirely new, almost never played secret storyline that’s supposed to reveal another part of the story—”

“I heard about that,” you say in disbelief. “But I thought it was just an online rumour because no one ever proved it or could figure out the code…”

“Because no one could figure it out,” Kenma says, getting the loudest you’ve heard him since. You stare at him with wide, round eyes. “But recently because of the work I’ve been doing, I was able to meet with the creator—”

“YOU MET WITH THE CREATOR OF—”

Kenma furiously motions for you to shush. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching him with round, adoring eyes, sparkling in disbelief. This guy right here in front of you got to meet your hero—the envy and awe collide altogether, rumbling up and—

(Your heart starts to do something a little funny in your chest.)

Who even is this guy?

“He gave me a hint and I was able to find the code in the other edition,” Kenma says, quickly pushing his phone to you to show a picture and you blink, eyes shiny. “Which I currently own because I was able to secure one when it came out in Tokyo. But your edition is the last part I need to unlock the unplayable path.”

This guy… you lean back in your chair, unable to stop the excited tap of your feet. This guy—he loves Water Emblem. He’s crazy for it! I don’t know anyone except people online who like it this much and he’s…

“That’s why,” Kenma coughs suddenly, becoming smaller in his seat. You stare at him with a raised brow. “I needed… to get in touch… with you.”

You blink, remembering the whole reason the two of you were even meeting in the first place.

Your cheeks grow hot, bright red in a flash of rare embarrassment. Kenma’s ears are just as red, but he pretends it’s not even happening, continuing on.

“Why didn’t you just… message me,” you squeak out, feeling more and more mortified that this man has literally paid you thousands just to be here and… it’s not even… a scam. It’s about your favorite thing ever. Water Emblem! “Instead of… my streams…”

“That was the only way I knew how to contact you,” Kenma says, looking a bit defensive. “I told you, I’ve never seen your streams before. One of my viewers told me and you keep everything private, so this felt like my only chance.”

You open your mouth, feeling more and more uncomfortable but Kenma sweeps in, “Keep the money. It… works out better this way anyway.”

You stare at him in confusion.

Kenma taps his phone again, right back at your picture. He stares at you with wide, piercing eyes, leaning across the table and quickly saying, reverent and eager—

“I want to buy your game from you.”

Today, sitting here beside you in your bag, are fully equipped items to try and protect you from the creepy, deranged, rich stranger you’d been about to meet. Today, you were fully expecting to unleash a fury building up inside of you over an injustice you can’t tackle on your own in your society on some poor, unsuspecting alpha—

Here, sitting in front of you, is a self-claimed internet game streamer, who wants to buy your… special edition… game?

“You want…” you say, slowly, making sure you don’t have this wrong, “...my game?”

He nods.

You open your mouth. It closes. You open it again, raise a finger, and then press your lips together, staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “What?”

“This might be my only chance ever to play the game,” Kenma continues, pulling up another tab and clicking away at his phone. He tucks a strand of blonde behind his ear and the action is almost endearing to you until the reality of his words slowly starts to creep into the forefront. “I’ve never found another edition like yours, and it seems like it’s in perfect condition too. I’d be willing to buy it at complete full, current market price—”

“Market price?” you say in disbelief. “How much is my game going for?”

Kenma looks at you in blatant disbelief. You raise a critical brow at him.

Wordlessly he turns his phone back over to you and you glance down—

You almost fall out of your chair. Kenma doesn’t look impressed, hunkering back down and taking his phone as you spin, head swirling at the numbers and figures, math flying around in your head at the sudden realization that all that money could literally be yours, that the game you love so much is worth that much, that all that money, all that money you’ve been trying so desperately to scrape for could just—just fall into your lap—

You could pay off all your loans with that kind of money. You could… you could stop streaming with that kind of money, finally wash your hands of it and get back on track and hardly have to worry as you work toward the job of your dreams and… 

“I want to buy your game.”

Your heart quiets. The fancy dreams stop. You sit there in the chair, head buzzing with the reality of what he’s asking of you.

He wants to buy your game.

Your game.

And you think then, about a moment far away from this one. About a time when the books and papers crowding around you made you feel like drowning, about lonely summers and arguments bouncing off the rooms around you, and a time where there was nothing else but that loading screen and that game to take you away from all of it…

(The game that you’ve kept all these years, loved all these years, because it…)

“I’d be willing to pay whatever works best for you,” Kenma continues, the excitement is low in his quiet voice and his eyes sparkle as he shows you his phone. “I can even pay upfront in cash, have a fund drawn up or—”

“I’m really sorry.”

It’s the first time in a long time you’ve ever felt the need to apologize to anyone. Not when the whole world has been treating you like the sorry sack for so long.

Kenma glances up. His expression is calm, unreadable, but you get the feeling he can see right through you so you stare at the tabletop instead.

“I don’t know…” you start. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sell that game to you.”

(He doesn’t seem like a bad guy.)

Anyone that talks about Water Emblem with as much love in his voice as he does can’t be, not at all by your books. His methods of getting to you here today might’ve been outrageous and roundabout, but you’re not really doing things the normal way either, so who are you to judge?

But that game…

You risk a glance up. You stop, staring in surprise when Kenma doesn’t look the slightest bit outraged or tense or anything. He looks just a bit disappointed, but the only thing you really see is understanding and something like a bit of grudging envy, a warmth in his gaze you don’t think is particularly meant for you but still comes through regardless.

“I was,” Kenma admits, a bit quiet. “Worried that would be the case.”

“Do you want,” you start quickly. Kenma looks at you. “Do you want to, uh, see it, at least? Take a look… see if it’s even in the condition you want?”

(You just… you can’t sell it, but you don’t want this conversation to end. It’s been so long since you’ve talked with anyone about this game, it’s felt so long since you talked to anyone in general and…)

Maybe, just maybe.

(You feel a little desperate.)

“Uh,” Kenma says, awkward. “Is that… fine?”

“Well, sure!” you say, hoping you don’t sound too eager. “Of course it isn’t a problem! I mean, I know we just met, but you seem pretty legit and I can just check you out later—plus, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, even against an—”

You stop, sniffing the air. Kenma doesn’t look bothered, but he rubs the back of his neck.

And you realize, suddenly, you haven’t smelled a single damn thing because Kenma Kozume is—

A beta.

(Oh.)

---- (change the channel) ----

The entire way back to your apartment, Kodzu00, or as you now know him, Kenma Kozume, complains.

He does it quietly, but he still complains.

“We could just take a taxi,” Kenma says, quiet and unhappy when you start making your way toward the train station. “I can pay for it…”

“It’s easy to remember an address but tough to remember a bunch of stations and stops,” you say, ignoring his offer. Kenma follows, unhappy but he still follows. It’s kind of cute.

He walks with a bit of a hunch, you notice. Like he’s doing everything he can to remain out of everyone’s vision, but he watches, careful and observant because he avoids people before they have the chance to bump into him, glancing this way and that and picking things out with particular ease.

Kenma doesn’t look very confident, but he’s comfortable. You stand there beside him on the train, calmly holding onto the railing while he taps away at his phone beside you, sighing every now and then. He’s different, you realize, very different, from what you’ve become accustomed to when it comes to the kinds of people you let surround you for the sake of money.

You almost want to say it’s because he’s a beta, but you feel that’s a disservice in all its entirety. Maybe Kenma will turn out to be a snob of some kind. The guy’s strangely loaded.

You sneak searches on your phone, paling at the articles about him that come up, about stocks and investments and companies and you realize in seconds, this guy is completely and utterly the real deal.

But despite everything, Kenma still does as you ask. He lets you lead as you navigate the string of trains to get back home, doesn’t ask any questions, only comments on the occasional thing, and the entire affair is two hours, but he doesn’t even blink.

Either he really, really wants this game, you think, or he’s just weird.

Quiet, weird, but fairly quaint, and you’re a little alarmed by how much you… like that.

(You’re a weird guy.)

A rude, burly man makes a pass at you on the last train home, breathing down your neck and letting his greasy fingers try to slide against yours on the same railing handle. Kenma makes a face, eyes narrowed into slits in disgust and he quickly looks at you, blinking at your unbothered, nonchalant expression.

His scent wafts over you, thick and uninviting. Alpha. You rub your nose, inhaling your own familiar scent. Kenma looks more and more uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, starting to lean your way and scanning for open seats when you calmly turn to the man directly behind you, meeting him dead in the eye.

“Get,” you say calmly, digging your fingernails into his skin, threatening to draw blood—the man stiffens, he pales, surprised, startled by your confrontation— “The fuck away from me before I scream.”

He scurries back, shouldering past people in seconds. A few people shoot him disgusted looks, glancing your way in pity—but you ignore all of them too. They didn’t care seconds ago when they knew what he was doing, if you hadn’t done anything, they wouldn’t have either.

That’s just how it goes.

“Sorry,” you say, even though you probably shouldn’t. You look at Kenma, lips curling a bit. “I was expecting to meet a guy like that today instead of you. I think all that pent up anger and anxiety needed to go somewhere.”

Kenma opens his mouth, closes it, stays quiet for what feels like minutes and then he starts up again.

“You don’t really act the same way you do on your streams, do you?”

“Of course not,” you say. “If I acted like that in real life—no offense to anyone who does though—I’d probably lose my shit.”

Kenma sniffs. He doesn’t say anything after that, and you quaintly let your shoulder brush against his ever other jostle of the train.

(It’s been awhile since you’ve been around anyone. It feels nice.)

---- (change the channel) -----

Kenma balks for a bit at the front door of your apartment, but you quickly usher him inside, kicking your shoes off into the entryway and flying inside. He toes off his own shoes, eyes scanning briefly around the entryway, around your home—it’s neat, he realizes, even if he wasn’t sure what to expect. You keep it clean enough, but there’s bits and pieces where your life slips through, making it feel lived in. You keep plants in the corner, healthy and well but you’ve got a few dishes still sitting in the sink.

He guesses he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to begin with. 

Kenma pauses for a second, rubbing his nose. He looks uncomfortable, eyes flickering around your apartment and back to you, but you’re already steps ahead of him, too excited to pass a chance like this up.

“It’s in my streaming room,” you say, “come on.”

Kenma follows warily behind you.

You almost kick the door to your room open in your haste, unable to stop the ecstatic beating of your heart as you scramble toward the back. Kenma pauses a minute, sniffing the air again. He glances behind him, back toward where your bedroom is left ajar and then to your streaming room. He looks a bit thoughtful for a moment, but quietly keeps it to himself, slipping inside and lightly closing the door politely after him.

(He’s not one to snoop, but he’s here, it’s not like he can’t look.)

Kenma tries very, very carefully not to consider the fact that he had seen you on that screen only a few nights before, and tries even harder not to remember what you’d been doing and how you’d look. He hyper focuses instead on the stand-out merch that becomes very, very clear to him.

He’s almost amazed your users haven’t said anything more about this—maybe it’s because of your camera angle.

Poster after poster of Water Emblem decorates the entire side of your wall. Kenma finds himself instantly drifting up to it, spotting your shelf in record time. He scans the collection of game titles, eyes growing brighter and brighter as he ghosts a finger over the well-kept discs and the old games…

“You play a lot,” Kenma says, quiet, glancing your way.

“I used to be a bit of a shut-in because I had to study,” you say, squatting down beside your other shelf and moving a few books aside. He finds himself watching the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and smile. “They were great breaks for me and helped keep me company. I’m not as social as people think, so it’s nice.”

Kenma considers your words. He looks at you, trying to reconcile the image he’d had of you from your stream with what he’d been witnessing all day today—how different it all was.

(If he’s honest, he’d been expecting to deal with someone different.)

“Do you do PC games too?” he asks. What are you doing?

“I’m not as familiar with them compared to console games,” you admit. “After exams I might try though. Got any to recommend?”

Kenma does. Plenty. He could go on but he doesn’t even know where to start, turning from your games to try to look at you again and think about how strange this entire meeting is, how different from what he’d been expecting. It reminds him of his meeting with Hinata, sudden and vibrant and impossible to categorize, left—

Pleasantly surprised.

“What happened to your chair?”

“What, the pink one?” you glance over your shoulder, noticing where Kenma’s looking toward your streaming station. “I shove it into the closet when I’m not using it. Sometimes the color hurts my eyes.”

Kenma looks at you like you’re crazy.

“...You keep two chairs?”

“Well, the chair’s mostly for looks anyway,” you say. “Some people like that kind of simple stuff. It’s a nice contrast, you know? Sweet and spicy, I guess? My boss said something like that. My ratings are good so I don’t complain.”

Kenma considers your words. He looks at your station, almost engulfed with stacks and stacks of what he can easily recognize as textbooks. Biology, medical tech, chemistry—all of it nearly crushing the fuzzy bunny mask you’d been wearing on the stream.

Kenma takes it all into his head and he looks again at your small back.

“...Do you even like your job?”

“It’s not my job,” you say. “My job is studying and working at the athletics complex to try to help figure out ways to help people stay in shape, take care of themselves and be better. This is just… part-time.”

You pause, staring at your shelves. It feels weird to be saying this outloud, but it’s nice too. It’s refreshing. You think you can take advantage of it anyway, what if you never even meet this guy again? You hardly know him, he probably doesn’t care.

“And I guess,” you say, a bit quieter. “Sometimes it’s kind of rewarding… sometimes people are nice, you know?”

Kenma says nothing, watching your back. You rub your neck and then finally beam, pulling free the reason for all of this.

You cradle the box in your hands. It’s weighty. You run your fingers over it and stand up, turning proudly to Kenma, beaming from ear to ear and—

You almost jump back in surprise, near squeaking. Your ears almost flash red in embarrassment at how close Kenma is all of a sudden, sneaking up right behind you with shiny, adoring eyes as he stares at the box in your hands, looking at it in awe and disbelief.

“Can I see it?” he asks reverently.

Your heart swells in happiness and you eagerly nod, handing it over to him.

Kenma receives the gift with care. He runs his fingers over it, carefully, as though afraid to even leave a single print behind before he pops the metal engraved latch and opens it up.

You and Kenma sigh together in unison, swooning at the sight.

“It’s amazing,” Kenma says.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe I’m seeing it in person.”

“I know!”

“You took great care of it.”

“I—” you flush at the praise, wilting a bit. “I-uh, thanks…”

“Can I see you play it?” Kenma says suddenly, looking almost desperate. You freeze. He looks up at you, expression completely different from his near lifeless one. His face is vibrant and full of excitement, thrumming just under the surface of his nonchalance. “The loading screen even? I—I have to see what it looks like logged in and—”

“I...actually can’t,” you say quietly, embarrassed. Kenma looks confused.

“I… I sold the console for it,” you say, feeling more and more guilty to finally have to admit one of your biggest regrets. Kenma pauses, expression quieting as he looks at you. You stare at the floor, trying not to look at the computer and web camera sitting in the corner. “I needed to buy some stuff… so I had to sell it in. I still kept a lot of the games, thinking I’d buy another one when I got the chance…”

You ruffle the back of your head, trying to quell the stifling scent of embarrassment that tries to escape you. You rub your wrists. Kenma’s eyes are briefly drawn to the action before he looks at you, still holding your game. You bow your head a little. “Um, if you want though, you can take it to your place and see—it absolutely will still work. I can just, take something to make sure you don’t run off or I can just—”

“Do you want to come over and use mine?”

You pause, looking at Kenma, dumbfounded.

Kenma stares right back at you. You can’t read a single inch of his face.

“We can use my place,” Kenma says, calm, unbothered. Your eyes grow round. “I really… really want to see the game in action… it’ll probably be more fun to see you play it anyway first.”

“Is that,” you start, uncharacteristically shy. “...okay?”

Kenma wordlessly nods.

(Your heart does something a little funny. You just write it off as an exaggeration. You’re such a sad sack.)

“Um!” Kenma looks up. You flush, hating how embarrassed you feel, hating how much of your bravado is missing, but you almost stutter out, “I-It’s (L/n) by the way… (L/n) (Y/n)...”

“... okay,” Kenma says. “It’s nice to meet you, (L/n).”

--- (change the chanel) ---

“You know, Kenma,” Kuroo said once, leaning back on the train ride home as Kenma tapped away at the buttons on his console. “For all you say and stuff, you’re pretty good at putting all the pieces together, aren’t you?”

--- (change the chanel) ---

One month.

Non-stop, several days a week, for hours on end—that’s how long the two of you play the game together.

You nearly miss streams, spend hours at Kenma’s house, laughing when you come to find him half-asleep in his sheets, barely rolling out to come greet you and instead just buzzing you in. You think it’s insane—how quickly this… this thing builds. You think you ought to be dreaming, but you don’t really want it to end.

(You’ve gone too long without anyone to laugh like this with.)

 You pull late-nighters that are terrible for your complexion, eat take-out like you’re cramming for exams all over again, laughing while Kenma quietly watches and scrolling through Water Emblem merchandise and fan bases and—

You spend time with him. With Kenma. You spend hours and days and what feels like endless forever and fun. It’s so sickeningly amazing you almost don’t believe it’s real. Sometimes you two argue, getting into heated spats over calls on how to move your characters, critiquing each other’s moves and then laughing when the other fails, sometimes it’s outright cheers from you while Kenma nods in satisfaction when you clear another mission and proceed forward and—

You haven’t even been alive that long, but compared to everything else, it almost feels like the best moment of your life.

“I did an entire episode on why moving this character is better than the rest,” Kenma mutters one day beside you. “I’m telling you, we need to deploy them. They’re wasted as an adjutant.”

You pause beside Kenma, blinking at his massive screen. You stare at your hands, and then you look at Kenma, blinking again in realization.

And in all this sudden time you’ve spent with him, you realize you’ve never seen one of his streams.

--- (change the chanel) ---

“Uh, hey everyone, thanks for stopping by again.”

You snort. Kenma doesn’t look the slightest bit at ease, his small face-view camera appearing in the corner of your screen as the old stream starts. It’s only of his earliest ones, the one where he replayed Water Emblem for his channel.

“I like this game a lot… it’s the one I always wanted to do a stream for… so I hope you enjoy it too.”

Is that it, dude? You laugh, shaking your head and kicking your legs out as Kenma gets the loading screen started and adjusts his chair. His camera shakes a bit and everything about the video attests to its age and its novelty. It makes you smile. He must’ve come a long way from these videos to the freaking multi-millionaire he was now.

(He worked hard.)

At first the show starts off rather quiet, maybe a bit awkward. Kenma hardly talks, quietly playing through the beginning sequences of the game and only commenting once or twice on the music or graphics. It’s kind of nice, peaceful, just watching someone go through the familiar motions until the real first part of the game starts and then—

“I never get tired of this part.”

You pause at his voice, glancing to the corner of the screen. Kenma’s eyes glow. He smiles, low, small and quiet, and he leans so far forward, almost out of his seat as he starts to play, quietly talking, describing the things he’s doing, the parts of the game he’s in love with and—

You roll over onto your side, watching the stream. Everytime Kenma mutters something under his breath you laugh, when he flubs you grimace, when he succeeds—you cheer, kicking your heels into the air. It’s really like playing the game all over again—even if the comments say he hardly shows any emotion, you can see it.

Kenma Kozume loves this game.

He loves what he does.

The thought makes you pause, staring quietly at the screen.

The dark corner of your room looks a little bigger. The quietness is a little louder. You lay there in your bed, watching Kenma thank everyone for watching with a sigh, giving the game a second glance, like he’s thinking of playing more even though he said he’d stop and—

Your alarm nearly startles you out of bed. You quickly glance over, shooting up in realization.

“My stream,” you murmur, dropping your phone and hurrying to your video room. “Gotta do… my stream…”

Your eyes glance back to your phone. You stare at the dark screen.

“Do you even like what you do?”

You shake your head, closing the door behind you.

--- (change the chanel) ---

“Thanks again everyone for coming! Your favorite omega is going to be lonely without you~”

The screen clicks, turning off.

You sit there in your plush, bright pink chair. Your open jacket hangs on either side of you, revealing your bikini for the beach theme you were going with today. The video room is near silent, save for the soft, quiet hum of your computer running while your monitor blinks, turning to a save screen.

Your game sits in your lap, carefully cradled by your hands. Off to the side is a thorough stack of medical textbooks you still owe money on. You were planning on studying for your test tomorrow after the stream tonight.

You run your fingers over the amazing edges of the collector’s box. You thumb every part of it, retracing the familiar memories, even the small little dent in the corner when you dropped it the first night you got it and almost cried.

You hold it there in your hands. It feels so, so warm, even though you think that shouldn’t really be possible.

There, in the darkness of your video room you sit. Quiet in the near-silence, head lowered, gently running your fingers over it, again and again.

Kenma’s lulling voice is the only thing you hear, playing over his stream, and you shut your eyes, bringing your knees and the box up to your chest. It jabs your ribs, sits uncomfortable, but you don’t really care.

“Do you even like what you do?”

(What I’m doing now, at least… yeah, I do. I really do.)

--- (change the chanel) ---

(L/n) is typing...

Hey, can we talk? 

It’s nothing important, let’s just meet up for dinner if you’re free!

Is that fine?

Kenma is typing...

Yes.

Location sent.

Let’s go here. I’ll make reservations.

Okay! :)

(Y/n) is typing…

(Y/n) stopped typing.

--- (change the chanel) ---

The place Kenma picks is some ridiculously nice looking Japanese Restaurant. It’s dimly lit and elegant and fancier than anything you’re used to, and you’re not really sure why he picks it until he orders for both of you and then the wagyu comes out and you know.

Seeing the steak, knowing you’ll get a good meal—it kind of makes this whole thing a lot easier.

Kenma sits comfortably on the floor right across from you. It’s a small, private room he’s rented out for the both of you. He’s dressed in the usual—baggy sweatshirts and athletic but comfortable joggers, and his hair is pulled back a little more neatly tonight as he pours tea for you and then for himself.

“This smells so good,” you say, mouth watering as you pick up the smooth, fancy wooden chopsticks. “Mind if I start?”

“Go ahead,” Kenma says. He leans back, picking up his spoon to dig into his own soup first. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The game,” you say around a mouthful of wagyu. It melts like butter on your tongue. “I’m going to give it to you.”

Kenma freezes, looking up at you in shock. His spoon clutters back into his bowl.

“What?” Kenma says.

“I’ve thought about it,” you say. “You were right. I don’t even have the console to play it anymore. It kinda just sits, collecting dust. It’s not fair when that game is literally everything.”

Your hands still a bit. You stare at the sizzling hot plate.

“I think you have a lot of fun with your streams,” you say, softer. “I think… I think Water Emblem would be well off in your hands. I think… I think it’s what it deserves, you know?”

Kenma is silent, frozen like a statue in front of you. You continue, lightly tracing a thumb over your other wrist, as though in comfort. Moments like this, you do wish for the chance to scent or be scented by someone again—just something familiar, something warm and nice. Your family is miles away and you just...

“I’ve had too much fun playing it again thanks to you,” you say, warm, full of happiness. Yeah, this is what feels right. “And you never once asked for the money from that night back, even though it should’ve just gone into paying for the game… that’s why I want to just give it to you. You’ve already done too much for me, and it’s more than paid for the game.”

“Hold on,” Kenma says. “I—hold on, one second.” He rushes for his phone, fumbling. You shake your head. “No, hold on—”

“I’ve still got my streams to do,” you say with an awkward laugh. “I can’t spend all my time playing video games again. Once exams come up and then—”

“No,” Kenma tries, looking a bit frustrated. He curses at his phone, “Give me a second to explain before you—”

“I’m doing this,” you say resolutely, standing up from your seat. Kenma balks. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me. Besides, I guess I got to meet you. That’s not so bad. Now stop making this weird and let me just do something cool for once in my life—”

“I want you to do a streaming series with me!”

You stop, staring at Kenma. He holds out his phone, showing the screen to you—but your eyes are on him, round and disbelieving and then—

Your entire face flushes bright red, cherry like a tomato.

“Y-Y-You w-w-w-want to d-d-do a s-stream with me—”

“Not one of yours!” Kenma blurts. You blink. He curses, ruffling his hair roughly before he gestures again with more vigor to his phone, “This—just look at this.”

You glance to Kenma’s phone.

“...you’re doing a new stream series,” you say, eyes widening in awe. “It’s going to be on the secret, never played route for Water Emblem—see! That’s perfect! If you’re going to do that, you need my half of the game and—”

“I want to do it with you.”

You freeze, mouth falling open.

“I’ve been thinking about it since you came over to play,” Kenma says, quietly setting his phone down on the table—he takes on the tone that means business, the calm, lulling one he your hear him use on the phone sometimes to make sure deals are delivered and he gets what he wants. “It’d be a great idea, and it’d be… fun. I’ve been letting you play because I wanted to see if the style would be compatible and I think it’ll be more than fine.”

Kenma taps his phone again.

“Of course, you’d be compensated,” he turns it to you, “we’d split the profits 50/50 from each streaming episode. Considering my normal projected view count and ad revenue, you can expect at least this much.”

You look at the numbers.

Your mouth stays open, knees sinking to the floor.

“If you’re willing,” Kenma says quietly, “to take a break from your streams to do this series with me… I think it would be mutually beneficial.”

Can things really, really work out, just like that?

“Besides,” Kenma says, even quieter. You close your mouth, looking at him in disbelief, in awe, in reverence, and he meets your gaze with his golden one.

“The secret route is meant for dual players,” Kenma says. “Water Emblem is known for being a single player, but what makes it special is it needs two for this route… it… it would be a disservice to the story to do it any other way.”

You can’t help it.

Your scent and pheromones you struggle and try so, so hard to always keep under lock and key explode forth, nearly flooding the entire room. Kenma stiffens, going ramrod straight and grabbing onto the top of his pants as your happiness engulfs the two of you. You’re sure it probably alarms everyone in the hall or anywhere near. Your happiness crashes and lulls and your entire face crumples in disbelief—

“Is it really…” you start, like a whisper, “really okay?”

Kenma shifts in his seat. He pulls at the hood of his sweater, opening his mouth before he quickly closes it. He mutely nods, resolute, and you stand up, lunging across the table to grab his hands. Kenma’s face flushes a bright red, his body stiffening in alarm.

“Kenma!” you say. “Kenma! Kenma, you’re a godsend! A guardian angel! My guardian angel! You don’t understand what this means for me—you don’t know what you’re doing for me—”

“(L/n),” Kenma says, he sounds strained. You pause, looking at him with round eyes. “I’m… excited… but I need you…”

Kenma lets out a slow, ragged breath. “Please… tone it down… just a little…”

You tilt your head in confusion. Your eyes drop down, noticing the sweat beading at the corner of Kenma’s temple, at the hard, rigid look in his hazy, warmly golden eyes and…

A soft scent teases your nose. You pause, blinking in disbelief. No way. You’re crazy, right?

“Um, Kenma,” you say, a little nervous. There’s no way, right? “You’re… you’re a… beta, right?”

Even betas could be sensitive to pheromones. You were being too careless right now, you must’ve just been too much and—

Kenma rigidly shakes his head.

You blink, feeling very, very, very small.

“Alpha,” Kenma exhales, holding his hand to his nose, scrunching in on himself while he peers up blearily at you, eyes swimming with something you’ve never seen once in his gaze before. He sticks his wrist out to you. 

“Uh,” you say, hating how nervous you sound. “C-Can… I?”

Kenma wordlessly holds his hand out to you, keeping it in the air. You tentatively step closer for a moment, sniffing lightly. His smell. 

Kenma’s scent is so quiet, it’s no wonder you… you never noticed. It’s become so familiar, always felt so calming and subtle and soothing, but if you look for it the way an omega would, pheromones in tune and acute—you do catch it, just the faint hint of something sharp, the familiar, light tang of alpha and—

You quickly pull back. You open your mouth, close it, open it again, and then close it.

“I’m so sorry—”

“You’re fine,” Kenma says, quick and quiet. You mutely nod, mortified. Kenma motions for you to relax as he stands, grabbing his wallet. “I’m going to take care of the bill. Get… fresh air. I’ll be back—”

“You should let me—”

“You can get the next one,” Kenma says. Something in his words makes you strangely complied to listen, ridiculously docile, and you blink in surprise when you sink back to your knees and Kenma’s eyes seem a little warm, a little—

(Pleased?)

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” you say jovially. Kenma nods, leaving you. You can’t believe it. This is it—this is—

The start of something great.

You hold your head in your hands, unable to contain your happiness.

Oh my god.

You stop, blinking again in realization.

BUT I’VE BEEN SUCH AN IDIOT, HE’S BEEN A—THIS WHOLE TIME—HOW RUDE MUST I HAVE—

You fall back into the cushion, kicking your feet up in disbelief.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid—I better apologize over and over—”

--- (change the chanel) ---

Kenma quietly steps out of the private room, sliding the door shut behind him.

He stands there, silent, basking in the faint afterglow, of the leaking, intoxicating feel of your happiness wrapping thickly around him, clinging to his skin.

Kenma lifts his hand up to his nose. He sniffs, once.

Your scent floods him.

Kenma’s tongue lightly drags up the inside of his wrist. He closes his eyes, briefly catching it—the soft, sweet taste of you against his lips, on his tongue. Kenma waits there, inhaling softly before his eyes slide open, thin, golden slits.

This would be the start of a fairly interesting partnership.

Omegachion has signed off!

Thanks for watching!

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 13 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Heyooo time for more smut! And more answers. And more cliffhangers.

Rated M

Get added to my tag list

Read the Rest

Read my Other Stuff

Read on Ao3

~~~~

The destruction in the apartment is clear the moment she walks in, feeling Killian’s watchful eye leave her as she shuts the door. There’s broken glasses and plates on the floor, Neal having cleared off the counter in what she assumes is his anger. She can’t think of another reason for him to be so destructive, picture frames smashed in the living room and fluffy pillow feathers flying through the air, but she certainly allows her mind to wander. 

  What if he knows? They’ve been careful, but what if someone besides Rufio had seen them? 

  “Neal?” She asks tentatively, clutching the strap of her purse tightly. 

  She hears another crash from his bedroom in response to her voice and cringes. The door opens forcefully, slamming shut behind him as he storms into the living room to meet her. 

  “Where the fuck were you?” he asks threateningly. 

  “I was at the store,” she answers, her voice small and weak, although she thinks it unwise to make a show of strength. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” he spits. He fumes in anger again and picks up a vase that she had filled with flowers she bought herself, hurling it at the wall to her right and sending water and glass towards her. “Rufio is fucking dead , that’s what’s wrong!”

She pales immediately, realizing that he must know of their involvement in his death. There’s not much for her to say, unable to defend herself as she and Killian both know that their actions were wrong. She only wonders now if he also knows of the affair they’ve started. “Neal…” she croaks out in terror, unsure how to continue. 

  But to her surprise, he falls to his knees, his hands catching his head as he lets out a sob. “Who would do this?” he cries, sending her mind racing. “Who would kill my friend?”

  She shifts, the sudden realization striking that he isn’t angry at her, he simply finds it appropriate to take his anger out on her. She has to adjust now, unable to hold onto the fear of him discovering her dangerous secret and required to shift into her role as doting girlfriend. She has to keep up appearances, as much as it pains her to do so. 

  “Babe,” she says softly, “I’m so sorry.”

  Once she’s close enough to him, he grabs at her hand, pulling her roughly into his arms and squeezing her too tight. His actions are forceful, but not at all surprising. He holds onto her, sobbing into her hair and making her cringe as he cries for his loss. He says things like, how could someone do this to me, and it makes her realize that he isn’t sad about his friend’s death. He’s sad that someone has hurt him. He thinks this is personal. 

  While he cries, she looks around the apartment and wants to cry herself. He’s broken so many things, and even though almost none of it was hers, she still feels sadness in the wake of the destruction she sits in. When she looks to the bookshelf frightfully, she realizes she doesn’t see the one and only object that she covets as hers and lets a tear escape. 

  He’s angry. But he didn’t have to take his anger out on the one thing that he knows means something to her. 

  ~~~~

  “The Kings of Elsinore will pay for what they’ve done to us,” Peter says commandingly, his fist slamming against the table before him and making Emma startle. Many of the men around the table nod, grunting in agreement, including Killian. 

  He’s careful not to stare at her too much, although it’s difficult. Aside from his love for her and his disbelief at her beauty, it’s hard not to stare in an attempt to ensure that she’s alright. They haven’t been able to talk since she left this morning, but he doesn’t see any evidence that she’s been harmed. He knows that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been, though. 

  “The murder of Rufio was a heartless and psychotic act with the intention of hitting us where it hurts. Rufio was heir to one of our club’s founding members, and his death will not go unpunished.”

  Killian shudders in his seat, the action making Rob turn to look at him and cock his head. He’s sure Peter means it, and he’s sure Killian’s punishment will be worse than anything he doles out to the Kings if he finds out. 

  He can’t find out, though. Because if he does, he could find out why it happened, and he can’t risk Emma’s safety like that. 

  “We’re going to hit back, which is why Miss Swan is here today,” he continues. His words draw Emma’s attention up from her hands as her big eyes stare at Peter. “It has become imperative that you identify something we can use against the Kings. Any help you need, you’ll have. Hook,” he calls, shifting his focus.

  “Aye?” 

  “Continue to assist Miss Swan in her search. Remove the security features if you have to.” 

  “If it’s alright,” Robin starts, causing Killian’s eyes to grow twice their size, “I’d like to help as well. I believe my tracking skills may be useful in helping Miss Swan decide where to look.” 

  “Fine,” Peter agrees, waving him off. “As for the rest of you, prepare for a battle. If it’s a fight they want, then a fight they shall have.” 

  ~~~~

  She drops into the too-firm chair and it squeaks under her weight, a groan escaping her lips as she jimmies the mouse of her computer. He can’t help the small smile that pulls at one corner of his mouth, her dramatic entrance bringing him joy despite the stress they're all under. 

  No one says anything at first; it’s awkward with Rob being here despite him being one of Killian’s closest friends. Even though he trusts him with his life, he isn’t sure he’s ready to hear the truth of their relationship after how many times he insisted that Killian avoid this. 

  Once her computer boots up, she straightens and he takes a seat in his usual spot, gesturing to another folding chair across the room in an invitation for Rob to sit. “Want me to remove the securities, love?” 

  “No, I don’t want you to remove the securities ,” she responds in a mocking tone, mimicking his accent as she rolls her eyes. “I’m not a damn child; I know how to take off parental controls.” 

  Killian raises his brows, looking at her in surprise, and asks, “then why haven’t you?” 

  “Because I’m also not an idiot,” she responds, glaring at him before turning back to the aged screen. “I’m not stupid enough to try and go against Peter’s rules.” 

  He gives her a small smile, one that he can’t seem to give to anyone else, and can't seem to help giving her, and nods. “That’s right,” he agrees softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. He almost forgets his place, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and plant a kiss on her beautiful-- if not thoroughly chewed up-- lips. It’s obvious enough that something’s irritated her, and he wants to get to the bottom of it and console her so that the light comes back into her eyes. He’s greedy like that, he supposes. 

  “I bloody knew it,” he hears, Rob’s grumbling voice yanking him violently from his thoughts and his desires. 

  Killian turns quickly, as does Emma, both of them staring at Robin in surprise, as if they forgot about their audience. 

  “You’re fucking her,” he accuses, nodding and tightening his jaw. “Killian, mate, how many times have we talked about this--” 

  “Rob,” he starts hurriedly as he stands, his hands held out in a plea. Without words, only his eyes communicating to his friend, he begs for forgiveness and discretion and kindness. “Mate…” 

  He can’t even look at Emma yet because he knows that the look on her face will break him. He knows that she must be gnawing at her lip, her brows high on her forehead and her eyes desperate and terrified. “I’m not going to say anything,” Rob finally says, his eyes meeting Emma’s rather than Killians, confirming his hunch. “You two have royally fucked up, but your secret’s safe with me.” 

  He hears her sigh and worries that she could be crying, so he turns to her. He’s met with her dropping her head into her hands in relief, and he hurries to squat in front of her, taking her hands in his. “It’s alright,” he whispers, running his thumbs over her knuckles. Her dim, glassy eyes meet his and she shakes her head. 

  “We can’t-- he knew after two minutes. We have to go,” she murmurs softly, but he sees something shift in her. She sits up slightly straighter and gazes into his eyes seriously. “Can we trust him?” 

  “Yes,” he confirms while he squeezes her hands. He knows they can, but he turns back to look at Rob anyway. 

  “You can trust me, lass,” he vows, understanding as Killian begs him to. “I swear I won’t say a thing, but you’re playing a dangerous game. What’s the plan here?”

  “We’re leaving,” Killian answers simply. “As soon as possible. We would have tonight, but Neal came back early.”

  “He didn’t come back early, you dolt. They never left.”

  He pales, his face falling, and he feels Emma's squeezing his hand. She must be thinking exactly what he is. They had both assumed that Peter and Neal somehow heard about Rufio and had returned, but the fact that they hadn’t even left is somehow more concerning. 

  “How… how did they find out?”

  Rob snorts, shaking his head. “Right, you were too busy to-- hang on. Killian… tell me you didn’t--”

  “Rob--”

  “You didn’t. ” His face falls pale as well, the look he gives his friend chilling. Killian can feel the disappointment and terror radiating off of his oldest friend easily, and it does nothing to quell his nerves. “Killian, tell me right now that you didn’t kill him.” 

  “I had to,” he whispers, shaking his head in self hatred. “He attacked her. Said he would-- he said--”

  “ Fuck, he caught you, didn’t he?”

  “Robin,” Emma interrupts, trying to stop the two of them from going at it and speaking too loudly. They’re bound to tip someone off if they keep this up. “What Killian did… He knows it was wrong, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Rufio attacked me. He was protecting me, and now… I have to protect him. We have to get out of here, because if they find out that Killian shot Rufio, he’ll be worse off than your friend, Liam.”

  Rob is quiet for a moment, allowing Killian to absorb her words. She’s right, of course. They’ll deliver him a fate much worse than that of his brother if they find out. 

  “Too right, love,” Rob agrees finally, nodding and running his hands over his face. “I’ll help you however I can, so long as the two of you take me as well.”

  “Of course, brother. I’d hoped to grab Tink and Elsa as well.”

  He and Emma hadn’t spoken of his previous dalliances, and he only hopes that his intention to bring Tink along with them doesn’t offend her. It’s not as if he plans on staying with her long, but she deserves to get out just as much as they do. 

  “Only because of Liam, and Tink is--”

  “It’s okay,” she cuts him off with a smile, her hand squeezing his. “Of course we’ll bring them.”

  He can hardly take the amount of love he has for her, her unequivocal understanding of every piece of him hard to wrap his mind around. He gives her a genuine smile, and her gaze meets his, giving him the beaming sunlight in her eyes of which he’ll never tire. 

  ~~~~

  The service they hold at the Rabbit Hole is only slightly deranged. The message is clear enough: Rufio’s loss of life is seen as a personal attack against the club. His death is not sad because his life ended, it’s sad because the club is suffering. 

  It’s nauseating. 

  The only thing that keeps her head on straight is Killian, the gentle looks he shoots her from across the bar where he sits with Rob shooting warmth through her heart and to the pit of her stomach. His presence is so soothing, so grounding. It makes her feel steady and strong to be with him, to even be near him. 

  Each time she catches him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, she feels her heart rate picking up. He drives her mad, she’s discovered. They’ve only just begun their relationship with one another, but it feels stronger than any she’s ever been in if only based on the physical connection they have with one another. She’s never felt this way about anyone before. She’s been with men before, men before Neal, but it was always transactional and cold. It was fine, but it wasn’t great. With Killian, it’s mind numbing. 

  He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly. He knows exactly what she needs when she needs it. He’s known exactly how to bring her over the edge each time, and she can only foresee their sex life getting better as they grow closer and closer. She can’t wait to grow closer to him. 

  The overwhelming feelings of disgust and discomfort are washed away easily each time he stares at her and are replaced by a feeling of undeniable need. The pressure builds where she needs him the most, arousal washing over her and through her until she can barely stand it, and the feeling of Neal’s hand landing on her shoulder makes her jump. “Want a drink, babe?” he asks, as if completely forgetting the conversation they had last night. He hasn’t even bothered to ask her of the results of her tests yet. 

  “I’m actually gonna just run to the bathroom,” she says with a smile. “Not feeling great, I’ll be back.” 

  She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she stands and heads towards the bathroom, relying on the dank darkness and the slowly dripping faucet to distract from the overwhelming moodiness of the bar and her overwhelming arousal at the thought of Killian’s hands on her. 

  She focuses on her breathing for a moment, hoping to slow things down around her and calm her racing pulse. The sense of peace is short lived; the door opens slowly, making her heart rate pick up. But when she sees him, she relaxes easily, a smile creeping onto her face. “You need to be careful,” she insists quietly, although she can’t help but giggle as he locks the door and pounces on her. 

  He lifts her onto the counter and his lips are on hers instantly, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her towards him. Her legs wrap around his and her arms grab for his shoulders, her nails digging into the rough fabric of his button down shirt. 

  With his mouth trailing hot kisses along her flesh, his teeth scraping against her neck, he finds his way to her collarbone and murmurs, “I couldn’t stand being away from you a moment longer.” 

  She gasps in surprise at his words, a wave of arousal rushing through her and landing in her core, twisting her and encouraging her to tighten her legs around him in search of friction and pressure. “Fuck,” she whispers as his hands and lips move the cup of her bra to the side. 

  “Do you want this?” he asks, seeking consent before latching his lips to her hardened nipple. She nods fiercely. “ Gods , how I crave you.”

  “Killian,” she breathes, “touch me.” 

  His mouth devours hers again, his hand sliding down the front of her and finding the waist of her jeans. He tugs, drawing her closer to him and, without breaking their lips apart, snaps her button undone and slides her zipper down quickly. 

  “Are you wet already, Emma?” he asks roughly, his fingers sliding over the cotton that’s already nearly soaked through. He growls. “You are; that’s a good girl.”

  “Yours,” she mumbles, her arousal taking over and her mind barely able to keep up with what her mouth says. 

  “Aye, mine,” he agrees, nipping at her bottom lip. He pushes her garment aside and slips his fingers through her folds, groaning when he finds her sodden for him. “So responsive,” he praises. “So perfect for me.”

  With a moan as his mouth presses to the sensitive skin under her earlobe, she nods again, wanting to reinforce to him that she’s his . Only his. Simply, she tells him, “I love you.”

  His fingers glide over her clit, pinching quickly and dragging a whimper from her throat. “I love you so much I can scarcely breathe,” he whispers. “I can’t stand to be away from you.”

  “Then don’t make me wait,” she begs in a whisper herself. 

  He moves his hand away from where she craves him and quickly moves his own jeans, and Emma wriggles until her pants are falling around her knees. “We’ll leave tomorrow,” he vows, smoothing his weeping cock along her clit as she wrestles with the condom wrapper. When she finally has it open, she places it over his tip and slides her fist down to the base. 

  “Where will we go?” 

  She gasps when one finger slips into her followed closely by a second, curling against her expertly and sending her searching for his mouth with hers. He swallows her cries when his thumb gently presses against her clit. 

  “Your heart’s desire, Swan,” he says, lining his cock up to her waiting entrance. “I promise, that’s all I want you to have.” 

  Their foreheads press together, their noses too, and she bites her lip as he pushes inside. She clings to him, her fingers gripping the back of his shoulders, her heels digging into his backside, her core squeezing around his cock. After a few perfectly timed, perfectly angled thrusts, she whispers, “I just want you.”

  He holds her so close to him as one hand grabs onto her ass and the other holds her jaw and neck. His thrusts are quick, but deep and effective, striking her exactly where she needs him. He groans when she clenches around his cock again. 

  His hand slips around from her back so that his fingers can dance over her clit with each thrust. Emma moves her hands up to the back of his neck, gripping his hair and begging him for more in each moan against his mouth. It’s not long before he has her a writhing mess in his arms, pleading for release. 

  “Come on, angel,” he encourages gently but firmly as he gives her another flawless thrust. “Nice and tight for me, aren’t you? I know you’re ready, love. Come for me.”

  His voice is tenacious, but still so tender, so caring in the way that he loves her. She’s never felt so loved and safe while being spoken to in such a dominating tone, and she loves it. She loves the freedom that comes with being commanded and feeling safe at the same time. She never knew the two could coexist. 

  At his behest, she clenches once more and cries out his name, his mouth muffling the sound as he spills into her. They hold each other firmly, panting as they ride out their highs together, although they’ll never be sated. They’ll never have enough of each other, always craving more. 

  “Bloody hell, I love you,” he says when they catch their breath. 

  She hums happily, if only because she’s still panting too hard to speak. She kisses his neck, her lips lingering on his soft, sweat coated skin. “I love you,” she whispers. Then, because telling him once will never be enough, she moves so that her tongue traces his earlobe and repeats, “I love you.”

  He moves her hair out of her face when she pulls away slightly, then presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry to come in here so… rudely,” he laughs. “But I--”

  “I’m glad you did,” she smiles. She winces slightly as he pulls out, stepping away to dispose of the condom and exposing his bare ass to her, tempting her to pull him back to her. “Are we really gonna be able to go tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” he smiles and returns to her to kiss her once more. “I just need to tell Tink and Elsa. We’re to meet by the docks; Robin knows already.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “Somewhere quiet,” he answers, “hidden away, unsuspecting… but it must be by the beach, aye?”

  “Aye,” she giggles and he straightens her shirt with a smile. “And?”

  “Nantucket.”

  “Nantucket?”

  “Mmm,” he hums as he helps her off of the counter so that she can fix her pants. “Quiet, secluded island, enough tourists to help us blend in. Plus, infamously beautiful beaches for an infamously beautiful woman.”

  She wraps her arms around his neck, pushing onto her toes and kissing him. “Sounds perfect.” 

  “Emma…” he starts, and she can sense the shift between them. He’s thinking, his self-anger and self-hatred sneaking through the joy he felt moments ago. “If it weren’t for what I did--”

  “Please,” she whispers. “You know that I love you. The fact that you killed Rufio doesn’t change that. I know you regret it, but if you need forgiveness, you have it.”

  He leans against her heavily, forehead to hers again, and nods. “I do regret it. But I know it had to be done.”

  “Exactly. And where will I meet you?”

  “I’ll find you, my love. The less you know, the safer you’ll be with Neal. Robin knows the plan, though.” She nods against him now. “You’ll be alright,” he whispers, and she almost wonders who he’s promising. 

  “I know; I trust you.”

  ~~~~

  A knock sounds against a heavy door. It’s pushed open slowly, and behind it stands a young and conflicted soul, trying to make the best decision for her family. The things she overheard as she stood outside of the women’s restroom serve to threaten the family she has found, and she cannot let that stand. 

  “Enter,” commands a strong and powerful voice, the man looking up from his ledgers and giving the woman a pensive look. “Elsa, to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

  “Peter,” she answers, moving towards the chair across from him. “I’m afraid I have some… troubling news.”

  The man hums, leaning forward and pressing his arms to the desk. “And what is that, my dear?”

  The woman takes a deep breath, sadly shaking her head at the truth she’s uncovered. She didn’t think her friend Killian capable of such a thing, but discovering that he’s murdered a member of the club has stunned her. “It’s Rufio,” she says wistfully. “I found out who killed him.”

  “That’s very interesting indeed,” the man agrees. “Are you implying that it wasn’t a member of the Kings of Elsinore who murdered a member of our family?”

  “Yes,” she nods with a deep sigh. “But it pains me to put the truth to words.”

  “Elsa,” he starts again, leaning back in his chair authoritatively. “If you know something, you must tell me. How can we protect you if you don’t protect us in return?”

  “Of course. After what happened to Liam, of course I want to protect the club.”

  The man nods in sad agreement. “Yes, his death was a tragedy, but the club has been keeping you safe ever since.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Go on, then,” he gestures towards her. “Whatever you’ve discovered, you must remember that the club’s interests as a whole must come above those of one.” 

  The woman nods once more and takes a deep breath in, feeling the cool air hit her lungs. “It was Killian,” she whispers. “Killian killed Rufio.”

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging:  @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​​ @laschatzi​ @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​ @captain-emmajones​​ @gingerpolyglot​​ @ebcaver​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @teamhook​​ @superchocovian​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @jrob64​​ @onceratheart18​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @winterbaby89​​ @swampmedusa​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @dancingnancyy​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​ @shireness-says​​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ouatpost​​ @daxx04​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​ @xsajx​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​ @batana54​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom​​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​

[thepeacetea]

Mistake of a Lifetime

I LIVE!!!!!!! Hey everyone! I don’t know what happened last month. It was like my brain shut down. It was the worst feeling ever. I just couldn’t write. Which was insanely frustrating. But I’m back and off of work for the next three week due to COVID-19. And since I’m not venturing into the outside world, hopefully I’ll be able to get more writing done!!! So thank you all for being patient with me. I honestly have absolutely no idea where this story came from, but enjoy my beauties. Warning, there is a tiny, little bit of swearing but nothing major. As always, if you have any questions or comments feel free to let me know. Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy!!! Peace!!!

Damian was frustrated. He couldn’t find that girl anywhere. He knew when he explained what he had done what he did that she would understand. His angel always did. She loved him too much to stay mad at him for long. Once she learned why, Damian knew that she would come back. That’s one of the reasons he loved her, she was so trusting and forgiving. No matter what he did, he knew she would welcome him back with open arms. But right now, he was irritated with his girlfriend. She hadn’t been in contact with any of the family in five months. No one knew where she was. Tim couldn’t even find her. It was as if she just disappeared. Which is what led him here, to what was hopefully the door of his best friend’s apartment. If anyone would know where Marinette was, it would be Jon.

Finding the apartment had been a slightly more difficult then Damian had first thought. Jon wasn’t one for covering his civilian tracts, usually allowing anyone, if they so wished, to track him down. But he had been strangely quiet the past few months. Superboy had also been absent from the hero scene. When Damian had inquired as to why, no one could supply a straight answer. Jon had spoken to his parents every few weeks to assure them that he was fine, but other then that, no one knew much.

The search for apartments rented out to a Jonathan Samuel Kent had turned up blank, as did all the other alias that Damian could think his best friend might possibly use. It eventually arrived at the point that Damian had run his handwriting through the data base to find a match for a signature. Eight states and eleven empty apartments later, Damian Wayne found himself climbing the squeaking steps to the apartment located above a little Chinese restaurant in the middle of Chinatown, San Francisco.

‘Honestly Jon, the other places where far better off then this,’ Damian muttered as he knocked on the door. The sound of scuffling followed by multiple items falling sparked a flicker of hope from the Wayne heir. Though he would never tell Jon this, Damian had missed his idiot of a friend.

“Buy too much at the market again? M, I told you, just get what we need for dinner tonight and we’ll get the rest tomor . . .” Jon said opening the door, the laughter that was oh so evident in his voice died the moment he saw who was at his door.

Damian watched as a wave of emotions filtered across his friend’s face. Surprise, confusion, and doubt where all understandable, at least in Damian’s opinion, but when Jon’s face finally settled on a mixture of anger and disgust, Damian grew confused and slightly irritated. He had not come all this way nor spent all that time looking for him to be received like that. Not by Kent, not by anyone.

“What are you doing here, Wayne?”

Now that caught him off guard. Damian could not, for the life of him, remember a single moment when Jon had referred to him, or anyone, by their last name. Ever.

“Tt, came looking for you. No one’s seen so much as a flutter of your cape in five month. The last time anyone heard from you was your parents, six weeks ago.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Now if there’s nothing else . . .” Jon said, closing the door, causing Damian to bit back a growl. He did not come all this way to get a door shut in his face.

“Actually, there is,” Damian countered, forcing the door back open as Jon sent a chilling glare his way, nearly causing him to laugh. If Kent thought he could scare Damian, the only blood son of Bruce Wayne, the Batman, with that poor excuse of a glare, he was in for a nasty surprise. “I need to know if you’ve seen my girlfriend?”

Damian was expecting many things, but none of them was the utterly disgusted scoff that came from the dark-haired young man as his face twisted into a scowl.

“Yeah. Two weeks ago. On tv. At the Wayne Gala. You remember, she was hanging off your arm like one of those rich people’s lapdogs. You know, the really yappy ones.” He said, something sparking in his eyes, though Damian couldn’t quiet place it.

“Not the Italian she-devil, you idiot. I mean Marinette.” Damian strained, actively using more force to push the door open as Jon was closing it. The disbelieving laugh that left the young half-kryptonian surprised Damian.

“Mar is not your girlfriend anymore, Wayne. Remember? YOU broke up with her five months ago. And then YOU announced that you were dating that – that – Rossi girl the next day on national tv.”

“Look Kent, all I want to know is if you know where she is or not, because I need to talk with her.” Damian ground out as he began to lose what little leverage he had on the door. The half second hesitation and slight dilation of Jon’s eyes was all Damian need to know whatever came out of his friend’s mouth was a lie.

“No.”

“You were always a terrible liar Kent.” Damian stated. Taking advantage to the slight surprise, Damian force the door open, stepping inside before the other man could react.

The apartment itself was rather small, though Damian was use to having far more space then needed. The apartment was an open floor concept. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a counter that extended from the wall, cutting the room in half. A worn couch was sitting in the middle of the main room with a small coffee table in front of it. A tv was pushed against the wall, a few open movie cases lay scattered across the stand with a gaming console tucked neatly underneath. A bookshelf was shoved into the far corner. A fallen stack of books lay by a beaded doorway that Damian could only assumed lead to a bedroom. A few pictures adorned the walls, though Jon drew Damian’s attention before he could get a chance to identify who was in them.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t invite you in! Get out!” Jon said, his voice raising an octave, jabbing his finger towards the door.

“And here I thought your mother taught you hospitality,” Damian countered, enjoying the growl his comment caused. “As for what I’m doing here, I already informed you why. I want to know where my angel is and I need you to tell me.”

“Never. Gonna. Happen! What makes you think you have any right to see her let alone call her ‘yours’?” Jon growled, actually growled, at Damian. Under any other circumstances, he would have been impressed that the cheerful, happy Kansas native sounded so . . . threatening in his questioning. But Damian was quickly reaching the end of his already short patience. Pinning the other man with a glare that would have made his father proud, Damian watched as the other subconsciously straightened to his full height.

“I’m bringing her back, where she belongs. The Rossi mission is over and I want my Angel back.”

For five seconds, Jon stood there, brows drawn together in confusion as his brain processed what was said. Five seconds where he could have been telling Damian where his girlfriend was, Jon just stood there.

“. . . what?”

“Lila Rossi held vital, insider information of a new program which my mother and Dr. Hugo Strange were developing. We needed the information, but more importantly, we needed Rossi to trust us. I, obviously, was the best candidate for the job. Father and the others helped plan and execute it. We have the information we need and the parties involved have been dealt with appropriately, including Rossi.”

“. . . all of this . . . everything . . . was for a mission?” Jon asked quietly, his voice calm as he bent his head, his bangs covering his eyes. Damian let a small smile slip. He knew Jon would understand, and once he told him where his angel was, she would too.

“Yes. Now I need to know where . . .” Damian began to say when the left side of his face erupted in pain as the sound of something breaking filled the air. Whether it was his jaw or the picture frames he landed against, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the time to figure out as he was hauled to his feet and slammed into the wall, his head smashing into an other picture. Once Damian’s vision cleared, confused emerald met rage filled electric blue.

“You mean to tell me, that everything, Every hatful word, Every cutting remark, Every. Single. Day! Marinette spent CRYING was for some GOD DAMN MISSION!?!” Jon yelled, pulling Damian closer as his eyes flashed back and forth between blue and red, and for the first time in a long time, Damian felt fear. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her!?!”

“It was a sacrifice necessary for the completion of the mission. Once she knows that, she’ll understand!” Damian shouted, defending himself. Everyone who knew agreed. The action was necessary for the mission. Without it, the whole mission would have been unnecessarily complicated. Even Clark and Diana had agreed, so why couldn’t Jon?

“Sacrifice? Is that what you think this was?” Jon hissed, eyes steadily changing from blue to solid red. “You broke her!”

“I didn’t . . .” Damian started to say before he was slammed against the wall again, causing the remaining pictures to fall, glass breaking on impact.

“SHUT UP!!!” Jon screamed. If it was possible, Damian saw his eyes fill with more rage then he had ever seen in one person, Jason included. “You know nothing! You broke her Wayne. She trusted you! After everything that happened to her, after being abandoned by so many others, she trusted you and you broke her! She gave her heart to YOU! Marinette gave you everything, only for you to turn around and throw her away like trash!”

“Jon,” Damian tried to say, but Jon wasn’t done.

“Do you know how I found her? After I found out you not only broke up with her but then decided to date the person that made her life a living hell, I spent six, SIX, hours looking for her. I finally found her on the roof where we first met her. She was just sitting there, on the edge, looking over the city. When she finally looked at me, her face was completely blank. No trace of emotion. The only real sign of life was how red and swollen her eyes were from crying. Do you want to know the first thing she said to me? ‘He left me.’ ‘He LEFT me!’” Jon snarled. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep her going after that. What it was like seeing her like that. Do you know what its like seeing someone who’s so full of life to just wilt in front of you. To see them lose everything that made them who they are.” Jon asked, his voice dropping in grief as his grip on Damian shirt loosened.

“Jon, I know. I hurt her. I know. That’s why I need to talk to her. I know my angel. Once I tell her, once I explain, everything will be fine.”

“No, Wayne. I don’t think you do know her.” Jon said, completely letting go of him as if he couldn’t stand touching him. “I know Mar better then my own mind at this point. She is the most trusting and kindest person you will ever meet, but even she has her limits.” He hissed, turning his back on his once friend, running his hands through his hair in anger and frustration.

All Damian could do was stare at the person, who had for the longest time, been his only friend. Steadying himself against the wall, the young Wayne looked down. Trying to gather his thoughts. To think of something to say when one of the picture frames caught his eye. Gingerly picking it up, Damian found himself looking through shattered glass at what appeared to be an ultra-sound photo sitting beside one the soon to be mother. Barely legible through the broken glass was Jon’s handwriting, ‘Mama and baby at eight months.’ The photo was dated three days ago. Damian couldn’t stop staring. There, through the shattered glass, stood HIS angel, her belly swollen to the point where it looked ready to burst, smiling at the camera.

What Damian was seeing wasn’t making sense. Eight months pregnant. They had broken up five months ago. He knew she had never slept with another guy before. Her first time had been with him. Once. Three months before they broke up. Eight months ago. She was pregnant. She was eight months pregnant.

His mind flashed to the last time he had seen her. The day he had ‘broken up’ with her. She had an appointment the day. A doctor’s appointment. She hadn’t been feeling well for the last few weeks. She had wanted to tell him something after the appointment. She had sounded so excited over the phone. She promised she’d tell him over dinner but he had gone first, telling her they were over. She had looked so heartbroken. So devastated. She never got a chance to tell him her news

Suddenly, the frame was torn from his hands but the damage had been done. He knew. Lifting his eyes, Damian met Jon’s gaze. Utter shock met panicked anger. For a few moment’s neither spoke. Neither man knew what say or how to react.

“Jon, I’m so sorry I’m back late! I distracted chatting with Aunty Liu and Grandpa Zhao wanted to know how the baby’s doing and then Mama Zhang wanted to give me some tea that’s suppose to help with my back pain an . . .” The sweet, sweet voice of his angel broke through the apartment before abruptly cutting off.

Damian’s whole body twisted toward the door faster then he thought possible. There, standing in the doorway, was the most beautiful sight Damian had ever seen. His angel, dressed in a soft, baby blue shirt that proudly displayed her heavily pregnant belly and black pant, stood completely frozen as her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes that he had missed so, so much, darted between the apartment and the two occupant.

Damian took a step forward, she instinctively took one back, panic blooming in her eyes.

“Beloved I . . .”

Damian never got father then that. As soon as he spoke, Marinette’s face drained of colour as she turned and bolted from the apartment as fast as a woman of her condition could. He raced to follow, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. That he would take care of her and their child. Their child! The very thought of his child sent an unbelievable wave of joy coursing through him! He was going to be a father! Damian was going to spoil his angel, his beloved, rotten. They would need to have one of the manor rooms renovated into a nursery. He would need to have someone take over his patrol for the next few month, his child and soon-to-be wife would need him and . . .

Both Damian’s train of thought and path was halted by the very painful grip on his arm. Fully ready to bite Jon’s head off, Damian was silenced by the red tinted glare his friend was giving him. He immediately notice how tense Jon was. He looked like he was ready for a fight, one that the kryptonian knew he would win.

“No. You are not going after her. The last thing Mar needs is this kind of stress this far in the pregnancy.”

“But . . .”

“I said no Wayne! Mar almost lost the baby once already. I am not going to allow her to go through that again! She can’t go through that again. I can’t handle going through that again!” Jon hissed, dropping his hold on Damian’s arm as he made a beeline for the stairs.

“Jon!” Damian yelled, hoping against hope that he would change his mind. That was his girlfriend and his child, damn it. He needed to be with them.

“No, Damian! Just . . . just go. You’ve done enough.” Jon shouted as he disappeared down the stairs.

Jon’s last comment caused the young heir to pause. He had done enough? He hadn’t been given a chance to fix what he had done. How could he have done enough? Sure, he had messed up royally, but he wanted to fix it. Why wouldn’t Jon let him fix it?

Pushing those questions aside, Damian ran down the stair, praying that he would at least catch a glimpse of his beloved. But the scene that met him as he burst into the street somehow drove Jon’s parting words home. There, braced against the wall of the building across from him, was Marinette. She was curled up as tightly as she physically could be, her face buried in Jon’s shirt as she let out the most heart wrenching sobs. Damian’s body refused to move as he watched Jon gently rock the mother of his child. His body refused to move as he watched the other man stroked her hair, promising to never leave her, whispering soft words of comfort to her as he planted butterfly kisses on her head. That he would always be there. That no one was going to hurt her. That she was safe.

Seconds turned into minutes before he could summon the strength to do what Jon had said. Casting one last look at his angel, his Marinette, Damian knew that taking that mission, that leaving her, had been the worst mistake of his life.

[koteosa]

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter three

Charlie’s place is frickin’ awesome.

That said, Dean doesn’t understand most of her decor. There’s a surprisingly beautiful oil painting of what looks like the bushy-haired girl from Harry Potter standing over the corpse of a monster with a face made of teeth; Charlie called it the Demogorgon, which clarified precisely nothing. On another wall, there’s a giant framed poster of the little shruggie emoticon dude, which, on closer inspection, is itself made of other shruggie emoticon dudes. In the center of the foyer stands a life-size marble statue of Poison Ivy, flanked on either side by two huge suits of armor, armed with iron flails.

Then, of course, the crowning jewels: a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling flatscreen TV and a tiny blue console that ostensibly contains every video game ever made. Charlie calls it the Deus ExBox.

“I swear to Jack,” Charlie mutters, fingers smashing against the controller buttons, “if you say ‘get over here’ one more time—”

Dean shrugs as much as he’s able while spamming the square button. “It’s the best move!”

“Yeah,” Charlie snorts, “and you cheese it.” She presses several buttons at once, and her character - a skinny brunette in a hilarious and mildly sexy bathing suit - kicks Dean’s guy about thirty damn times.

Dean makes a frenetic motion with the controller and goes full button mash. “You cheese Mileena! With your stupid tele-drop—”

“Hey,” Charlie starts, turning briefly to glare at Dean, “Mileena’s my main, ok—”

Dean uses the moment of distraction to pull the joystick hard to the left, tapping square one last time. His character - a rippling muscled dude in a skintight suit with a yellow loincloth - casts his spear at Mileena, yelling a guttural ‘Get over here!’

Mileena’s health bar drops to zero, and she sways back and forth. Dean gives Charlie a smirking side-eye.

She shakes her head and points a blunt-nailed finger at him. “Dean, don’t you dare. Dean.”

Dean gives her a winning smile and moves the joystick side to side, thumb hovering over the X button.

“Dean, don’t you dare toasty me—”

He taps the X, and Scorpion spits a pillar of flame at Mileena.

Fatality, the screen reads. Scorpion wins.

Charlie stares blankly for a moment, slack-jawed and dull-eyed, before cutting a glare at Dean. “I literally hate you.”

Dean’s mouth pulls into a wide grin, and he raises his hands in a shrug. “C’mon, who could hate this face.”

“What face?” Charlie grumbles. “All I see is a butt.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter, and his cheeks ache. He’s learned that Charlie is an appallingly poor sport, and her swearing tirades in the wake of a loss amuse him to no end.

She gives him a mild glare, betrayed by the play of a smile around her mouth, and reaches for her giant pint glass - ‘it’s a stein, you philistine’ - only to frown down at the flat dregs. She shifts as if to stand, then her face lights up, and she smiles over at Dean. “Hey, check this out,” she says, and the childlike excitement in her voice has Dean leaning forward. She raises the stein overhead and bellows, “Beer me!”

Her glass refills itself, bottom to top, an inch of fluffy white head settling over translucent gold. Dean’s brows rise, and his lips tick up. “See now, that I could get used to.”

Charlie gives him a self-congratulatory smile and passes the glass to Dean. He tips his head in thanks and takes a gulp, face scrunching up at the taste.

“Ugh, god,” he sputters, setting the glass down heavily on the low coffee table. “What is that?”

Charlie’s lips turn down in a dramatic pout. “Stella Artois.”

Ugh. What are they, at a bachelorette party in the Hamptons? “Aren’t you supposed to be a lesbian?”

Charlie gives him an unimpressed glare and hoists herself off the couch. “I’m a chapstick power alpha, thank you very much.”

Dean’s sure he knows what all those words mean individually, but- “Yeah, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and skips towards the kitchen, tapping the Yoda bobble head on the bookshelf as she passes it. There are several other action figures on the shelf, and a bunch of other tchotchkes, most of which he can barely make out in the dim fluorescent light. He glances over at the windows framing the dining table; he figures Charlie’s gotta have a great view, being situated so near the lake. But the curtains - done in a deep, velvety purple that looks like some sort of magic fur - are drawn, the afternoon light pooling just around the bottom.

Dean feels his brow wrinkle. “Hey,” he calls, “why are your curtains closed?”

“What?” comes Charlie’s muffled voice.

Dean rolls his eyes and waits until she comes around the corner with two dark bottles of IPA. “Why are your curtains closed?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, flopping herself onto the couch. “Cuz the sun’s out? Duh?”

Dean takes a bottle from her hand, twists off the cap. “You don’t like it?”

Charlie gives him a dry look. “Dude. I’m a pasty code-jockey otaku.”

This time, Dean isn’t sure he knows what any of those words mean. He squints at her, shaking his head.

She sighs. “Sunlight could kill me.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Ah.” He vaguely remembers a case he’d worked solo while Sam was at university: a teenage boy had spawned a Tulpa while writing a (surprisingly good) web comic. Dean had interviewed him in his dorm room - all empty Mountain Dew bottles and half-eaten bowls of ramen. Kid looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.

Back then, Dean had told him to pull the comic from his site and go the hell outside. Now, Dean feels mild envy for him and Charlie both.

“I miss rain,” Dean says, and it feels like a confession.

Charlie turns toward him and tilts her head, expression curious and bemused.

Dean harrumphs and adjusts his seat. “I mean, I like the—” he gestures vaguely toward the window, “—the picnic weather, too, I just...” he trails off, noting Charlie’s scrunched frown, and shrugs. “I dunno. Sam says there’re storms, past the mountain.”

Charlie’s brow smoothes at that, and she perks up, grabbing her stein with both hands. “Probably. All kinds of weird stuff over there.” She takes a long swig and gives a tiny burp that has Dean huffing a laugh. “You seen the mini forest in the field?”

Dean sobers and shakes his head. “He said that’s where the storm was.”

“Oh,” Charlie murmurs. “Huh. Wasn’t last time I saw it.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been over the mountain?” He tries to picture her with a bindle in place of an iPhone and hiking boots in lieu of her Converse, but comes up short.

Charlie smirks at him and takes another gulp, licking the foam from her top lip. “I may have spent my first afternoon here flying around on a broomstick like Harry Potter.”

Dean tips his head back in a nod. He really should’ve guessed that. He brings his bottle to his mouth, taking a cautious sniff to make sure he’s not drinking any more of that wimpy shit, and gives Charlie a sidelong glance. “Did you catch the snitch?”

Charlie beams. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean shakes his head and smiles. “Attagirl.” He takes a long drink, enough to clear the neck, and savors the bitter hoppy flavor on his tongue. It’s a damn sight better than the swill he’s had with Bobby. Or whatever the fuck Stella Artois is.

“It was on fire.”

Dean swallows and cuts a glance at Charlie. “What?”

“The forest,” she says, smoothing a finger over the lip of her glass. “I mean, not the whole thing, just a couple trees near this, like, barn thing? They were all charred.” She tilts her head, considering. “Coulda been lightning, I guess? I dunno.”

Dean feels a pit open up in his stomach, strange and unbidden. He sets his beer down on the table, butting it up against his controller. “You tell the Arch?”

Charlie shrugs. “Kevin said not to worry about it.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he turns fully toward her. “You talked to Kevin?”

When he’d heard through the grapevine that Kevin had finally made it over, Dean had sent Jack a silent, thankful prayer. He’s thought about checking in on the kid, but word has it he’s top dog at the Library - the new and improved Scribe of Heaven. Dean figures that’s about as close to ‘advanced placement’ as the kid is likely to get, this side of the pearly gates.

“I stopped by the Library,” Charlie says, nonchalant. Then she gives Dean a mischievous grin, raising her glass to her mouth. “Wanted to see if they had Lady Death in Lingerie.”

Dean frowns. “Is that... Is that porn?”

Charlie smirks at him. “It’s a comic, but... yes, yes it is.”

Dean blinks hard and gives her an incredulous look. “You got Kevin out of the Library ... for cartoon porn?”

“Hey,” Charlie demurs, “you don’t get to say anything about cartoon porn, I’ve seen your browser history.” Dean rolls his eyes even as his face warms, but doesn’t offer a defense.

“And no,” she continues, eyes going shifty. “He let me in.”

Charlie’s posture is stiff, her eyes round with manufactured innocence. She was a shit liar when she was alive, and she’s an even shittier one dead.

Dean gives her a blatantly doubtful look. “He let you in.”

Charlie puffs her cheeks out and her eyes dart side to side. For a second, she looks like she might try to stick to her guns, but she blows out a sigh instead. “Okay,” she concedes. “Maybe ‘let’ isn’t the right word.”

Dean breathes out a mildly bewildered laugh, pressing his forehead to the bottle in his hands. “You broke into Heaven’s Library?”

Her tiny white hands rise in a shameless shrug. “You can take the girl out of the corporate espionage scheme...”

Dean shakes his head, smiling wry but wide, stomach aching with laughter. “Pretty hardcore,” he says, then faces forward. “For a nerd.” He takes another short sip, noting Charlie’s scowl in his peripheral vision.

“Well,” she huffs and grabs her stein, “you’re pretty ripped.” She lets that hang for a moment, until Dean looks over at her, brows raised. “For a handmaiden,” she smirks and takes a smug pull.

Dean rolls his eyes and nods around a dry smile. Charlie gives a tittering laugh that he can’t help but return, and he polishes off his beer, shoulder butted up against hers.

He stares down into the empty bottle, turning it between his thumb and middle finger. “So Kevin said it’s fine?” he asks. He keeps his tone mild so as not to betray his peculiar unease, but he can’t quite suppress the note of concern. “Tiny burnt forest with lightning and a creepy barn?”

She shrugs and chugs the last inch of her beer in a great swallow. “I guess?” she says, voice thick. “I don’t know.” She belches for a solid three seconds, and Dean turns his lips down, impressed. “Got the feeling it was kinda...” she tips her head side to side, “top secret? Maybe not, like, nuclear football level, but… something.”

Dean snorts and glares into the chasm inside his beer bottle. “What, you think Heaven’s got an Area 51?”

Charlie shrugs again, grabbing her controller to select a new fighter. “Stranger things, I guess.”

Dean nods absently and casts his eyes about the room. The shruggie guy is still shrugging, Yoda’s head still bobbing, Ivy’s white marble eyes staring sightlessly toward the door. Dean’s gaze settles on a painting he hadn’t noticed, tucked into the corner behind a threadbare recliner: an abstract composition of flowing indigo and teal, offset by swathes of pale yellow edged in pink, with a crooked pillar of white rising up the center. Dean’s not much of a one for fine art, but something tells him this is a masterpiece. Ageless and tragic and blue, it tugs at a rough-sawn edge in his chest. He thinks it might be a flower or a river. Or a cloud. Or maybe a bruise.

It looks familiar, like he’s seen it in a textbook or possibly a museum. Then again, in Dean’s very short - and very, very long - life, he figures he’s seen just about everything.

Abstraction Blue by Georgia O'Keeffe

chapter two | chapter four

table of contents

[corescorner]

Charmberry Cove Chapter Four.

Chapter Title: Settling In.

Wordcount: 4,818

AO3

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

It's the day after the move and Virgil is already sick of all the boxes in his way and he misses his stuff, these walls are too bare and monotone; he wants his fairy lights and posters.

He needs to fix this, now.

Today is room arranging day he decides.

He stands in the middle of his room and looks around trying to figure out where to put what, he figures placing the large furniture is probably the first thing he should do before anything else.

He starts with the bed, moving it to the far left corner, diagonal from the door; moving the small side table next to it and putting his large, black fluffy carpet underneath that, the carpet takes up a lot of floor space but that's fine cause the floor is cold anyway.

Placing the bookshelf across from his bed in the far right corner and putting his desk next to that, close to the door. Yeah that looks good, so he now only has to place his dresser, T.V and bean bag chair.

The dresser fits perfectly on the wall that the door is on in the left corner but his T.V can't fit anywhere in here, his stereo goes on top of his dresser and takes up all the room. He moves it and the bean bag outside of his room for now.

He puts three CDs into the multi-stereo for them to shuffle between them while he works, cranking it up.

Now, for the fun part. Decorating.

He has three different fairy lights, the skull ones go directly above his beds headboard, the ghosts go on the other wall his bed is situated against and the bats go above his desk. Nice. He should get pumpkin ones next.

His posters are plentiful in number, he has enough to probably fill all the walls in this room if he spaced them out in an organized manner, but that's not his style. Instead of doing that he places them artfully around his room in collage like clusters and now there's still room to get more if he wanted to.

He starts to organize his books and collection of movies/shows on to his shelves, adding figures, knickknacks and toys.

Placing all the small stuff around and storing things in boxes under his bed that doesn't need to be out in the open, he's finally done his room.

He looks around at his hard work. He's proud of what he's done with it, it’s definitely cozy and very him. The rafters look like they can have stuff hanging from them; maybe he'll do that if he gets something that would go good there.

Walking out he almost trips on the bean bag chair. Well he does trip, but the chair is soft so it doesn't matter, no one needs to know.

His face scrunches up as he thinks of what to do with these.

Why not just... leave them out here? Make himself a makeshift living room.

Placing the television on a crate, with his game consoles on the floor in front of it and the chair in front of those. That's good for now.

Well, that was a lot of hard work. Rewarding though, he smiles to himself.

His stomach rumbling takes him out of his gazing.

Oh, yea it's probably around lunch time.

He checks his alarm clock on his nightstand.

Wait, what? It's four pm! How could he have not noticed how late it got, how come one of his dads didn't call down or lunch? Did his music drown them out? No they would have come down in that case...

He goes upstairs -Hex jumps off of the dryer to follow at his heels- he needs to check what's going on with his dads, they're probably just working as hard as he has been and they also lost track of time is all.

That's definitely it he tells himself.

Opening the door separating the basement from the rest of the house he stops in place looking around. They have been busy, there's not one box to be seen, all furniture and other items are in their rightful places and it's clean everywhere.

He peeks at the kitchen and it's the same there, same for the dining room that they're probably never going to actually use.

No dads to be seen. Hex chirrups up at him, he looks down at her mismatched eyes.

“I know, it's weird right?”

They must be working upstairs then. He hasn’t been up there at all yet, so that's where he heads. Hex ever his tiny shadow follows along.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, the first door he notices is to his left and it leads into a large bathroom, there's another door on the same wall a bit farther down that is only slightly open.

To his right there's a door that is fully open so he goes to that one, standing in the doorway he realizes it's a large master bedroom, his parent’s room.

It's the length of the whole floor and there's a bay window to his left from where he's standing in the doorway.

On the other side of that is their bed, which actually takes up quite a bit of space in the large room. He's not sure why they have such a big bed, every time he's seen them sleep they're always cuddled together or tangled around each other in the middle of it, seas of bed on either side of them.

It's a very plush bed though. Dad doesn't seem like he sleeps often but with everything sleep related he's very nit-picky about.

He leaves this room, cause there's no Dads here either.

So that leaves the slightly open door on the other side of the hall.

He creeps up to it, to see if there's any sound coming from beyond the door.

He only hears typing so he knocks.

Pops’ voice answers it “come on in!”

Virgil steps into the room that is clearly Pops' office, everything is set up and in order on this floor too. No wonder they haven't seen each other all day.

“Hey Virge, what's up?” Pops asks, stopping his typing to look at Virgil.

“Um, where's Dad?” Is his first question.

“Oh!” -Pops jostles himself upwards a bit- “He went to figure out the funeral plans and deal with will stuff, he wanted to go alone to make it a quick experience” he explains.

“Okay, what's for supper?” His second question.

Pops shakes his head a little and looks towards his computer monitor.

“Oh gosh! I didn't notice it was this late, I'm so sorry about that buddy you must be hungry.”

Virgil shrugs, he could have made himself something if it was just lunch after all. “It's alright, I didn't notice the time either until I finished setting up my room, I couldn't fit the T.V and bean bag though so I made myself a little living room area.”

Pops smiles wide “that's such a good idea Virge! We should get a couch, oh and more bean bag chairs in case you bring home friends.” His voice was cheery throughout the sentence but that didn't stop Virgil from frowning.

“I don't have any friends Pops” he says, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets and looking away. Hex slinks around his ankles and props herself on her hind legs, her two front ones resting on his shins.

He picks her up, cuddling her to his chest in the same way Patton did yesterday, she immediately starts to purr.

Pops’ face falls slightly before brightening up again.

“What about that Patton kid who helped you move in yesterday?” He asks like he knew what Virgil was thinking.

Virgil wrinkles his nose. “I don't think that counts as being friends?” he says with a questioning tone.

Emile laughs softly, “well don't tell him that.”

Virgil squints “you really think we're friends?”

“Absotutely I do!” his smile is genuine, Virgil softens a bit.

He gets up off his puffy office chair, slapping his hands to his thighs as he does so.

“How about some dinner huh?” He asks, fluffing Virgil's hair as he walks past him out of the office.

Virgil follows him down the stairs, he drops Hex as she wriggles in his grasp and then she darts to his chair in the living room to sleep. Fine, he sees how it is.

They walk into the kitchen and Emile claps his hands once and addresses Virgil.

“What would you like for dinner tonight? Your dad should be back soon-” he checks the time on the stove clock “-we should start making it so it's ready for when he's back, wanna be my Little Chef?”

“You're lucky Dad isn't here for that Ratatouille reference” Virgil smirks.

“It had nothing to do with him, he'd be fine” Pops says, sticking out his tongue, cause ya'know he's an adult.

“Well if you didn't go overboard with quoting it at him when it came out, he'd be even better.” Virgil now with a shit eating grin in place, sticks his own tongue out.

“You sassafrassin' me mister?”

“Of course not Father Dearest.” He slaps on a fake smile that reads 'I'm being good, honest'.

Emile nods his head once in a quick motion that says 'that's that then' and smiles at Virgil goofily, turning around to face the fridge he opens it with a flourish simply exclaiming: “food!” He drops his arms limply, staring into the fridge. “Huh, well okay then” he says lowly.

Turning to Virgil and closing the door he claps his hands, keeping them together and raised to his mouth.

“Here's the thing-” he starts, pointing his clasped hands towards Virgil “-there's no food,”

“What?” Virgil deadpans, Pops smiles sheepishly.

“Well we did everything and forgot to grocery shop, I forgot we we're supposed to do that today but we couldn't cause Remy got called in for will stuff from the lawyer guy” his hands gesture left and right while talking as if to state his points.

“You don't have to explain yourself to me Pops.”

“I know. Now what do ya wanna order?” Emile asks with a wide smile, cell phone already in hand.

“Do you need to ask?” Virgil replies, Pops looks at him over the rim of his glasses like Dad would.

“You could want Chinese.”

Oh, that actually does sound good. His face must have shown his thoughts cause Pops giggles and admits: “Actually, I want Chinese.”

Virgil looks at him unimpressed.

“Hey! There's this really amazing place here that I haven't had for ages and I still know the number, your Dad and I used to get take out from there basically every Friday when we lived here, we were just out of collage living with Clem at the time” he has a soft smile on his lips, “ah memories.”

He stops dialling the number like he just realised something.

“What if it's not there anymore” he whispers, eyes wide.

Virgil shifts where he stands “you won't know until you try?” He says slowly.

“Right you are Virge” and he presses the call button.

Virgil can hear the rings, once, twice, thrice? Whatever, three times. Then the other line picks up, he can't hear the other person but Pops' smile is wide enough to tell him that they're gonna be having Chinese tonight.

Pops talks on the phone longer than necessary for a food order so Virgil sits on his chair with Hex, petting her lazily.

After about twenty minutes he hangs up.

“Wow, I wasn't expecting it to be the same people and for them to remember me! That's pretty Wild Thornberries” he says cheerily, Virgil snickers and rolls his eyes at the unnecessary cartoon reference.

Pops’ phone blips and his head instantly snaps down at it like it startled him, a smile breaks across his face.

“Remy's on his way back, good timing too” he muses.

He always has good timing Virgil thinks.

Pops takes plates and cups out of the cupboards, silverware out of the drawers and places them on the breakfast bar. He looks at them in contemplation for a moment. Virgil has an amused look on his face watching his father balance everything on the plates and then trying to balance those in his hands, the glasses wobble and Virgil figures he should help, so he gets up to grab the cups from their precarious positions, Pops pouts.

“I could've done it, I worked at a diner in collage you know” he states.

“I do know, that's where you met Dad, I've heard that story a lot. I just wanted to help you not break anything” he says placing them on the coffee table, Emile does the same with his handful.

Virgil practically throws himself on his large cushy chair, disturbing Hex's perched slumber.

Pops sits on the couch, turning the television on and switching to their recorded shows.

“Wanna watch the newest episode of Gravity Falls while we eat?” he says waggling the clicker.

“That's another 'not question' Pops” he replies.

“Not necessarily, you changed you mind about pizza, how do I know if you'd wanna watch something else” he says with a kind smirk and head waggles.

The front door opens, Dad comes in with a few plastic bags.

“I ordered Chinese!” Emile says brightly, moving his head around the couch to keeps his eyes on his husband while Remy walks into the kitchen to deposit the bags.

He slips his shades on to the top of his head “Oh my god I love you” he says sauntering over to the couch and dropping himself next to Emile, laying on him in exhaustion he lets out a long sigh. Emile runs his hand through Remy's hair, snagging the sun glasses removing them from Remy's person, setting them aside and continues scratching Remy's scalp.

“Aw hon, you have a rough day?” He asks softly.

As much as he loves his parents, these little tender moments that they unabashedly share makes Virgil feel like he's intruding in on something private, he shifts playing with his hoodie zipper.

“Nah not too bad like, considering” Dad answers waving a hand in the air. “Dice is coming down tomorrow for the funeral on Wednesday” he informs, Virgil jerks his head towards his dads.

“How long is he staying?” Virgil asks.

“Like, a week or so, don't worry you'll def get uncle bonding time.” He can't see his Dads face from this angle but he can hear the smile in his tone, he continues talking in a softer voice, “he wants to help clean out Moms apartment, said he's gonna stay over there for the week, I was thinking of staying with him.”

Emile, never stopping from petting his husband, has a soft, sweet smile playing on his lips he answers in the same tone Remy spoke in. “That's alright honey, do what you need to do. Virge and I will still be here when you get back, we can handle being by ourselves can't we Pumpkin King?” Pops turns his soft expression to Virgil.

“Yea, we can handle a couple of days without you...”

“Hey, you guys can totes come and help us pack stuff up if you wanted, we can all check out the cafe together.”

The doorbell rings.

Emile nudges Remy “you're gonna have to move hon”

Remy whines “Ugh, but do I really?”

“If you want food you do, silly” he boops Remy's nose.

Remy playfully rolls his eyes and whines dramatically this time “fiiiiine, you win Picani.”

“Always do” Emile says, placing a kiss to his forehead as he gets up.

As Pops pays for the food Virgil goes to the episode titled 'The Time Traveller’s Pig' to start it when ready.

Dad hands Virgil a plate, cup and utensils then gets up to retrieve two two litre sodas from the bags he brought home.

They eat and watch Gravity Falls, commenting here and there about certain parts of the episode.

They stay there, in the living room watching more shows that they've recorded for a couple of hours, styrofoam containers and dishes littered around. The living room is warm and comfortable, Hex purring curled up in his arms as he's curled up on his chair. Virgil feels like he might fall asleep.

He hears Dad chuckle, then soft carpeted footsteps coming towards his chair, he lazily opens his eyes looking up at his Dad standing just at the base of his chair smiling softly down at him. He closes his eyes again as Dad just bends down and with zero effort he picks Virgil up like a baby, Virgil's head resting in the crook of his neck.

“He must be super tired, it's not even close to how late he usually stays up” Pops whispers, “he was working in the basement all day today,” a hand brushes his bangs to the side.

“Well, we should totes go marvel at his hard work shouldn't we?”

Virgil feels movement then hears the basement door creak; he feels the motion of going down the stairs and hearing them groan in protest as they descend.

He hears Pops gasp “oh look at how cute this little corner is that he set up, we should get more comfort items down here for him.”

He feels Dad nod while hearing his bedroom door swish open, he doesn't turn on the main light, but from the soft glow and small click Virgil assumes one of his fairy lights was turned on.

“Nice, he like really worked his ass off with this room huh?” Dad whispers.

He feels a kiss on his forehead, then he's being lowered in his bed, the blankets cover him Dads hand is on his head and a whispered “sweet dreams Pumpkin.”

Virgil is out before they leave his room.

 ~ 

 Virgil wakes up with Hex snuggled under the covers with him, his skull lights giving off a low glow around his bed, he looks to his side to read his alarm clock.

7:33 am. Okay, earlier than he usually wakes but it's fine. It's Monday and school starts in a week’s time so he should probably start getting used to the early hours again he reasons to himself.

So instead of doing what he wanted, which was to curl around his cat and go back to sleep, he wrenches the blankets off of himself, Hex opens her blue eye to look at him in a way that he thinks she'd be saying 'excuse you, I'm still sleeping', so he covers her up again.

Walking to his dresser he gets out his clothes for the day and decides to take a shower, which he supposes is going to be in his personal bathroom basically, considering he practically claimed the basement as his.

Neat, he's never had his own bathroom before. Maybe he'll decorate it too.

After his shower he goes upstairs to see if there's at least cereal to eat.

“Mornin' Dad” he murmurs then double takes. That's not his dad.

Uncle Dice is sitting at their breakfast bar, laptop open in front of him, large travel mug full of black coffee in hand. He looks at Virgil, his large rounded sun glasses nestled in his hair which happens to be up in a messy bun.

What's with the Tempest brothers and sun glasses?

“How's my favourite nephew?” He asks.

“I'm your only nephew, not many choices to work with, you're stuck with it” Virgil mutters.

“Okay, none of that. It just means I don't have others to disappoint when I choose you, I know what I'm talkin' about. I'm a professional.” He says matter of factually. Waving his hand towards the other counter “I brought breakfast” he says as an afterthought.

Virgil smiles he goes straight to hug his uncle, Dice hugs back immediately. “Did you drive all night?” He asks muffled by Dice's shoulder.

“Mmn, something like that” he pats Virgil's head.

Virgil moves away, looking around the kitchen noticing the distinct lack of fathers.

“How'd you get in?” he asks quizzically, Dice puts a finger to his own lips in the universal sign for 'shh'.

“I have my ways” he says cryptically, Virgil can respect that.

 ~

Virgil is finishing his breakfast while Uncle Dice has been typing furiously at his keyboard, when Pops bounds down the steps still in his rumpled sleep clothes, he doesn't stop in confusion to ask when Uncle Dice got there or asks how he got in, so Virgil assumes that he's the one who let him in.

“Heya Die! Rem told me that you were here” he cheerily says.

Okay, so maybe not. Dad then.

“Oh yea? And he can't come down here to greet his older brother?” He begins.

Or not?

“His rating as a brother is lowering in ranks with every interaction, or well, lack thereof. That's why you're my favourite Emi” he finishes.

“Yea just keep talkin' out of your ass brother dearest. I like, actually have a life” Dad says coming down the stairs. “Also, don't like, flirt with my husband.”

“I'm not flirting, I'm stating a fact” his lips turn up in a lopsided playful smirk.

“Children, please” Emile says with his hands up in a placating way, “play nice or I'll have to separate you.”

Virgil snorts harshly, hand flying to his mouth.

“So, what ungodly hour did you drop in here?” Dad asks pouring his own large mug of coffee, also pouring some in Pops' cup as well before handing it to him.

“Four am, no biggie” he says with a shrug.

“Four am, gurl you've been sitting in my kitchen since four freakin' am?”

“I had work to keep me preoccupied, it wasn't that long of a wait don't feel too bad about it” Uncle Dice says in a playful mocking tone.

“Oh I don't, no worries there” he sips his coffee, “and you like, judge people for a living, I call that playing.”

The brothers stare at each other, neither of them willing to crack into the fit of laughter that Virgil knows they want to erupt in, but this is a game and one of them is going to win.

“You would think it's all play you demon. It's very serious work you know” Uncle Dice says his smile wide enough that it almost made him lose.

Dad is glaring a bit, Pops hops into the conversation once again.

“Alrighty! What shall we do today?”

“What shall we do?” Virgil mimics and Pops smiles wide.

Dice sighs “I was just waiting for Rem to get up so we can loot Moms apartment” he gets up and closes his laptop; he waits pointedly for Dad to hurry up. Which, he doesn't.

“Mmm” he 'thinks' on it “fine, I guess. We're taking your car though.”

He refills his mug before stepping up to Emile, planting a light kiss on him “you boys can come and check out the cafe in about an hour if you want to do that today” he says, pressing keys into Emile's hands.

Pops hums and steals another kiss before letting his husband go with his brother.

They leave and Virgil asks the question he had since this whole interaction started.

“How the heck did he get in?”

Pops laughs almost, nervously? “You know what, I have no clue.”

 ~

Virgil is playing on his (previously Dads) purple see-through Game Boy Colour, while Pops takes a shower and gets ready for the day.

He's sitting sideways in his chair his legs dangling off an arm, head resting on the other. Game Boy held up above his head, Hex is sleeping on his stomach; Pokémon music coming from the small speakers on the hand held.

“Hey Virge!” Pops yells from the top of the stairs “get ready bud we're leaving in ten okay?”

He doesn't bother answering, too focused on a battle at the moment. Pops won’t expect an answer anyway.

He finishes the battle before Pops comes down stairs so he sits there petting Hex in comfortable silence, minus her purring. Which honestly just made it more comfortable.

Barley two minutes later he comes downstairs, dressed in very casual clothing as opposed to his 'work clothes', a faded grey Voltron shirt under a loose pink cardigan that’s left open.

“Ready?” He asks, Virgil gets up and places Hex on the cushion, and off they go into town.

Town square is about a ten minute drive from home and they pass by the school on their way there. It’s awfully small and they put all the grades from Kindergarten to grade eleven in there, how?

They park right in front of the cafe, it’s one of several shops littered around this area, seems like this is the shopping part of town. There isn’t much though. He did take note of a cool looking antique shop that might be fun to look through.

Pops takes the keys Dad gave him earlier that morning out of his jeans pocket to unlock the cafe and they step in.

He doesn't know why he thought it would be old and dingy or even abandoned maybe. It was up and running just last week after all.

But it looks nice and clean, it has a homey vibe to it with nice worn couches and mismatched chairs with mismatched tables scattered around. The colour of the walls are a lilac with yellow accents, there are lanterns and fairy lights strung about the room and the crystals hanging in the large windows throw rainbows in all directions thanks to the sun.

It’s beautiful and Virgil could see himself spending a lot of time in here.

“Okay, I'm gonna go check out the kitchen to see if I still know my way around it” Pops informs, then adds: “the stairs at the far end wall go up in to the apartment, it's the second entrance so we're going to get rid of it before renting it out. My point is, it should be unlocked right now, go see if you can find your Dad and Uncle hm?”

He doesn't give a verbal response, he just walks to the stairway. Being on top of the staircase shows him a closed door with muffled voices coming from behind it.

He opens the door but pauses before he can get very far, his uncles voice stopping him cold in his tracks.

“You have to tell him soon Remy.” He sounds agitated.

“Mind your own business, I didn't hire your judgey ass to rate my decisions Die” Dad spits out.

“You know that's so not what I'm doing! I'm just trying to look out for you, for Virgil! Don't you want to warn him before anything happens?” Uncle Dice hisses. 

Virgil flinches. They're arguing about... him?

“Don't you dare use my son like that, you know very damn well I'd kill for that boy! He's just not ready yet and I don't think you have any say in this matter!” Dad says his words dripping venom.

Uncle Dice scoffs “okay, but what about The Cove? If you don't tell him soon, something will it's just a matter of time.”

“I have enough time I'll tell him when it's time to tell him” he sounds like he's talking through gritted teeth.

“He's already twelve Rem, you remember when you were twelve? How hard that was on you without any guidance?”

Virgil doesn't know what to do. He's rooted to the spot. He's not sure if he wants to listen anymore. But it feels like he should know. But if Dad says he's not ready to know whatever this is, then... should he trust that? Should he walk away like he heard nothing? 

“He's not like me Die, he's-” Virgil makes noise to signal to them that someone is coming and walks through the door.

Dads head is snapped to his direction, shades folded in his shirt collar -which he only does when extremely angry, too many times knocking them off his head while flailing his hands make that their temporary home-

He looks spooked, and angry. Virgil's never seen him like this.

“Oh” he falters “I didn't notice anyone coming in the building” he says nervously, Virgil lifts his shoulders a tiny fraction in a pathetic shrug.

Dad looks worried for him “you okay Pumpkin?”

He does a half nod, half shake of his head. He can't form words right now, too much going on, too many thoughts screaming at him.

Dads expression melts into something soft and understanding, a warm smile now in place of the scared scowl he walked in on. He opens his arms and Virgil rushes into the hug.

“Just one of those quiet days hm?”

Virgil nods/shrugs noncommittally.

Uncle Dice, hasn't said anything or even looked his way since he came in.  

[ddaengsopemin]

Auto-Pilot

Ch-1

Pairing - Taehyung x Reader

Word Count - 4.5k

Genre- Fluff? - Mainly backstory/epilogueish.

Summary - You were young, happy, and healthy. You lived a good life. Up until the world flipped, and became stuck in their own lives and routines. You thought you were the only one left who had individual thoughts until you came across Taehyung.

A/N - This is hella unedited...I apologize. I will edit it at some point ^^; I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The Christmas holiday had come and gone, your family carrying out their usual traditions of gathering the entire family around the Christmas tree with re-runs of Christmas movies playing in the background. Laughing as you each opened your presents. You opened one package to find a pair of socks, shooting a side eye at your parents. Who on earth wants socks for Christmas? All you wanted was a new toy, or a few new toys, to throw in your toy box and forget after a couple months of use. The next couple presents that you and your brother opened were exactly what you had wished for. A teddy bear that was taller than you, and the newest gaming console for him. The rest of the evening was filled with spending time with your family and playing with your newest belongings.

Days had passed, and the new year was upon you. You were excited to light sparklers and twirl them around your brother, as your father popped off fireworks in the middle of the street. You had always loved the bright colors of the fireworks, but hated the loud noises that came with them. The clock struck midnight as all of your family hooped and hollered in the streets, hugs and kisses were passed around and the adults took sips of their champainge. This is the last, and one of the only, memory that would stick to the forefront of your mind.

The rub of your tired eyes signaled your parents that it was time to put you to bed. They kissed you goodnight and turned off the lights as they walked out of the room. Leaving the door cracked open just enough for light from the hallway to pass through. Everything seemed fine until you woke up the next morning.

You pulled yourself out of bed, the small pink clock on your bedside table reading 7:05am. The smell of pancakes and eggs filling your senses as you padded into the kitchen and took your usual spot at the kitchen table.

“Morning Mommy.” You said as your mom scooped some eggs onto a plate. “Good morning, dear.”

Nothing registered as off in your small mind until she sat down across from you, scooping her own food into her mouth. You were chattering along about what you wanted to do for that day and did not earn a single response from her. You waved your hands in front of her face, but to no avail. Looking around your table, you noticed your father and brother wore the same expressions on their faces as your mother did. Their eyes looking slightly glossed over as they ate, no conversations other than the usual morning greetings that you all exchanged every morning.

“If you guys are playing a trick on me, you can stop now.” You pouted. Still, no response.

You pulled yourself away from the table and stomped off to your room.

Why are they ignoring me...I didn’t do anything… You idly wondered as you pulled a coloring book off of your bookshelf.

The rest of the day went in the same fashion. Your parents asking you questions, and telling you to do various activities just as they had done every other day. The only thing missing was the connection from the words to their emotions. Everything was robotic, calculated. The rest of the days following were exactly the same. Your parents and brother going about their daily routines, not saying or doing anything that was different from the previous.

You tried your hardest to comprehend what was happening. Everyone at your elementary school was acting the same way, all except for you. Friends, teachers, faculty, neighbors, people you passed by on the street. All of them had the same, glossed over look in their eyes. No conversations, no changes. All you could do was give up, and live your day to day life the best that you could.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Before you knew it you were graduating high school and moving onto university. You tried your best to live as normally as you could, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the laughter and conversations of your family and peers. You needed a change, you needed to get away from the same boring life you lived everyday, and that is exactly what brought you to Seoul University.

Moving to Seoul gave you the breath of fresh air you so desperately needed ever since the day your world was flipped upside down. A tiny part of you held hope that moving to a big city would hold change, hoping that it was only your tiny town that was affected by this weird phenomenon you took to calling autopilot. You had felt so desperately alone from the time you woke up, to the time you had finally cried yourself to sleep. You took your seat on the bus, excitedly looking at everyone around you only to be met with glossy eyes, and stoic faces.

Keep yourself together, Y/N. You thought. You’re not even out of the town yet. You can’t expect change this fast... You sat back, popped in your earphones and waited for your bus to start the long trek to Seoul.

Your eyes fluttered open as you began to enter the city. You scrambled towards your window to watch the city lights fly past you. The butterflies felt like they were swarming in your stomach as you approached the bus stop. As your bus pulled to a stop, you began collecting your belongings. Everyone filed out of the bus seat by seat, the rest of the passengers taking off towards their destinations almost immediately.

The bus driver handed you your suitcase from the storage bin under the bus, giving you an almost inaudible thank you as you returned the gesture and grabbed your bag. Even though no one spoke to you or acknowledged your existence outside of what would be assumed as a normal routine, you still treated everyone as the human beings they are. It made you feel grounded, even though you could essentially do whatever you pleased, you stuck to the rules and did what you were supposed to do.

Looking at your phone, you mapped out the route to the closest coffee shop. Luckily there was one a two minute walk from your current location. You slowly walked in the direction of the shop, taking in your surroundings as you did.

You made it to your destination faster than you expected. As you stood outside the small coffee shop you immediately felt calmed at the warm scent of coffee wafting out from the open doors. The shop was on a quiet corner, soft music filling your ears as you made your way to the register.

“Uh..I’ll take a medium black coffee, please.” You rattled off to the barista looking at you from behind the counter. “That will be $4.50” She said as you handed her your card.

You collected your things and walked to one of the many tables littered around the shop. The walls of the shop were a mixture of different variants of brown. Some tables had tall barstools, some tables were lower with bean bags surrounding them. There were a couple couches in the corner that had college students huddling their laptops, completely engrossed in whichever subject they were studying. The walls had various paintings on them, none of which had a certain focal point. More so colors that wrapped from corner to corner, leaving their interpretation solely up to whomever was looking at them.

“Medium black coffee.” You heard the same barista call out as you left your table to pick up your coffee. You went to the small table near the counter and added some cream and vanilla flavoring into your cup. Sitting back down at your table, you clicked your tongue and began searching your backpack for your laptop. Once you retrieved the device, you opened a new tab and typed “Apartments for rent” into the search bar. You spent the rest of your morning lining up apartment tours, hoping to find a place to live as you only had enough money for the deposit and a hotel room for the week.

After hours and hours of walking through apartments and finding something wrong with each one, you stumbled upon a ‘For Rent’ sign, ironically right across the street from the coffee shop you went to this morning. You were on your way back to pick up your luggage when you spotted the sign. Checking your watch you noticed you still had about an hour before the leasing office closed. You shrugged your shoulders and made your way up the stairs and into the office.

The office was small but cozy. There was an older woman sitting behind the desk. You smiled to yourself as you noticed her glasses sitting halfway down her nose as she buried herself into the book she was reading. You knocked on the frame of the door, alerting her of your presence. “Hello...I came in because I noticed the for rent sign on the window?” You told her as you made your way to sit in front of her.

“Of course, dear.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin at you. “Let me get the keys and we can head right up.”

You watched as she checked each of her pockets, before locating the keys in the center drawer of her desk. “Follow me.” She said politely.

You followed her closely as she lead you to the elevator and pushed the button for the 4th floor.

“The apartment that we have for rent is a two bedroom. It is not very big, but the layout is nice and offers a little bit of privacy.” She informed you. “Plus, you are on the top floor so it has a nice view of the streets below. The best part, in my opinion, is being on the top floor, you have easy access to the rooftop garden.”

You smiled and nodded in her direction as you heard the small ding from the elevator, alerting you of your arrival. You followed the landlord out into a small hallway, the walls painted white. The large windows on the other side of the stairwell leading up to the elevator doors blasting light through the hallways. There were 6 apartment buildings on each floor, 3 to the right wing and 3 to the left. The older woman led you to the last door to your left. As she unlocked the door you began rattling off questions, which she easily replied to. Such as the rent, how much of a deposit you were going to have to put down if animals were allowed or not.

“Ah, here we go.” She murmured as she finally located the key to the vacant apartment. She opened the door and pushed it open, letting you enter first. As you stood in the doorway, you quickly slipped off your shoes and began looking around the living room area.

“I will be waiting right out in the hallway if you need me.” She called out. You thanked her and began walking around. Silently glad that she offered you some privacy as having the landlord at you heels always made you anxious when you eventually told them you were not interested in the apartment.

You were immediately in love with the apartment. It was indeed small, and it had an extra bedroom that you did not need but it was well kept and was in the part of town you were already somewhat familiar with. The living room was as any other normal living room, but what made it stand out was the three large floor to ceiling windows that stood next to the door to the balcony to your right. Just as they did in the hallways, an amazing amount of sunlight was let into the apartment. Making it feel bigger than it actually was. You could already picture yourself sitting next to the window with a cup of coffee in your hand, nose in a book that you had finally had time to read. Oh, and when it rains… You thought. Imagining opening the blinds and watching the rain puddle onto the quiet streets below.

You moved into the kitchen next, it was slender but had everything you needed. Stackable washer and dryer behind a sliding door at the end of the kitchen. “Perfect, I won’t have to leave to do laundry…”

You turned around and walked past the dining area, down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Both bedrooms were around the same size, four walls, and a closet. There was a bathroom set in between both bedrooms with access by a door to your right in the first room, and the left in the second. The bathroom was rather large compared to the other rooms in the apartment. There were a stand-up shower and a bathtub to the left of the shower. On the right side of the bathroom was a large, two sink vanity with plenty of drawers and storage. You turned off the light and made your way back to the doorway, peaking around the corner to find the older woman sitting crisscrossed on the floor, her nose in the same book as before.

You cleared your throat to grab her attention, “So, I really loved the apartment. How is it that an apartment like this, comes at a price like that?” You asked. “Not that I’m complaining!” You threw your hands up in the air.

“Because, dear.” She smiled at you and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she stood in front of you. “Not everyone is out for money...If I can make enough to upkeep this place and feed myself while helping out people who may need it,” She said pointing a look at you. It must have been obvious to her that you were new to the area… “I will do what I can to help out. There are a wide variety of people who live in these apartments. Each one’s situation differing from the next. Some of them move along when they get back on their feet and comfortable; others stay because we are like a family, and this is their home.” She had turned her back towards you as she spoke, making her way to a door on the other side of the hallway. “This,” she pointed to the door. “Is the door to the rooftop. You are free to use it whenever you’d like.”

“Oh! Oh goodness. Listen to me. I am already babbling as if you have said you wanted the apartment. My apologies if I seemed a little too pushy there…” She giggled as she covered her face.

You could not fathom what she could have said to be perceived as pushy. You erased the shocked look that had etched itself on your face at her outburst and shook both of your hands in the air. “No, no. That was not pushy at all.  I am very interested in renting this apartment from you. It is the nicest, most well kept and updated one I have seen all day.”

“Great!” She cheered. “Let us go draw up a contract then...After you.” She guided you towards the elevator and you entered when the doors opened.

The thing that made you feel a little less alone in this world was salespeople. Usually, society would try to get as far away from someone trying to sell them something as they possibly could unless needed. To you, it was someone you could have a conversation with, no matter the length, with only fragments of their robotic chains leaking through. Once you were done with the conversation though, they switched back into those confines, forgetting your name and any sustenance the conversation may have had. You knew as soon as you left this office, you would just be another face handing her the rent money. The thought made you sad, but you resolved to enjoy the small speck of life within her while it lasted.

After about two hours, the contract was said and done. She said you could move in immediately as she slid the apartment key across the table and into your awaiting palms. You shook her hand and thanked her over and over as you backed towards the door to her office and out the front door of the building.

You turned towards the building and looked up towards the sky. Alright, Y/N. You thought as you gave yourself a pat on the back. You did it. Admittedly, you were surprised you were able to find a place to live in a 10 hour period...You thought it would take days or even weeks to find a place you felt safe and could afford. You shrugged your shoulders, chalking it up to luck as you skipped across the street to the coffee shop to retrieve your luggage.

You made your way to the hotel on the corner and got yourself a room for the night. Pulling your toiletries out of your suitcase and taking a quick shower once you were inside your room, tucking yourself into bed. You had a tiresome day today, and you were positive tomorrow would be even more so. As you closed your eyes, sleep pulled you under its blanket in no time.

Sunlight poured through the window, prompting your eyes to slowly open. Despite how badly you wanted to close them again, you knew you had to get up and begin your day. Stretching out your tired limbs you crawled out of bed. Brushing your teeth and throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you pulled out a pen and paper from the side table drawer and sat down at the table.

“Let’s see...what do I need…” you questioned and began making your list.

“Bed frame...mattress...dining table...couch…TV…” You thought of the big things that you needed to make your apartment feel like home, hoping that you could scrunch the smaller things into your budget as you went along.

After you finished your list you shoved it into your purse and made your way out of the hotel room. Checking out of the hotel, you made your way down to the coffee shop. Popping in your headphones as you walked down the sidewalk, the beat of the song putting a small pep to your step.

You sat down at the same table you had the previous day, throwing your things down before getting into line. You began singing and dancing as you waited in line, knowing that no one would think anything of your behavior or horrendous singing. You gave your order to the barista and headed back to your table, waiting for your name to be called.

It was then that you felt a pair of eyes on you. A feeling that you hadn’t felt since you were very young. Your eyes snapped up and began looking around the room. As usual, everyone was engrossed in their everyday routine to look in your direction. Everyone except one person. You spotted him sitting in the opposite corner of the coffee shop, the straw of his iced coffee stuck in his mouth as he stared at you. You thought for a moment that you had disturbed him with your singing, but his stare wasn’t one of anger or a glare. It was more childlike, and inquisitive. He had a small smile as he sipped on his coffee. You thought he was rather cute with the beanie pulled over his head, causing his blonde hair to lay flat across his forehead and slightly into his eyes. He was wearing round glasses and an oversized hoodie. He looked away from you suddenly, and back down at his laptop. It was then that you realized how long you had been staring at the stranger, and you felt almost as if a spell had been broken. Like the energy surging between the two of you was suddenly cut the second he looked away.

Shrugging your shoulders you knelt down to drag your laptop out of your bag. Preparing for your full day of shopping online for furniture and household appliances. You had gotten two jobs the second you were of legal age to obtain one, and saved every penny for this day. You had a couple thousand saved, and you had carefully calculated exactly how much you could spend in each area of your apartment. After buying everything you needed, you had exactly one month to find a job before you would be in trouble.

You were too engrossed with giggling to yourself that you hadn’t even noticed the boy walk up to your table and take a seat. A look of shock crossed his features when you looked up at him from above your laptop and tilted your head. He quickly regained his composure, and smiled in your direction.

His smile was probably the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. It was boxy and charming, as his cheeks reached his eyes. You cleared your throat and asked, “H-Have we met before?”

He shook his head, and he very much reminded you of a small puppy. “Wait...You’re responding to me...In a normal conversation...That we’ve never had before…” Your eyes were wide with disbelief as he nodded in the affirmative, his huge smile never leaving his face.

“So...Can you talk? Or are you just going to nod your head at everything I have to say?” You questioned, looking at him with your eyes slightly narrowed.

He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. “Taehyung.” He introduced. You wrapped your hand around his, immediately comforted by the heat he radiated. His hand completely engulfing yours, you heard him giggle and looked up only to realize you had been blatantly staring at your hands wrapped around each other without saying anything. “Y/N.” You said sheepishly as you pulled your hand away from his.

“So...You’re not trapped in this warped robotic fantasy land that everyone else in the universe is trapped in?” You asked. Watching his face pull into a thoughtful expression as he trapped his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Nope. I don’t really remember much from the day everything changed, but all I know is I did not change with it.” He said. “It is obvious that you are not like them either. Wow. I moved to this city for a change of pace from my normal dull life, but I never in a million years would have considered the fact that there was someone else like me out there…”

“Yeah...I don’t remember much either.” You nodded. “And...I moved here for the same reason and thought the same thing...This is weird, huh?”

“Weird, but comforting.” He said and that stupid, blinding grin returned to his face.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him and giggle as you heard your name being called to retrieve your coffee. You returned back to your seat and fell into a comfortable conversation with Taehyung as if you had known him your whole life. It was strange, you had always thought that if you ever did get to have a real conversation with someone again that it would but awkward and strained. But not with Taehyung.

“How long ago did you move here?” He asked.

“Actually...I just moved here yesterday. I was shopping for furniture for my apartment before you walked up.” He nodded and looked down at his hands that were folded in his lap. “How about you?” You replied.

“I uh…I just moved here...Today.” He stuttered. You raised your eyes at him.

“Oh! Well, then we are both newbies.” You laughed. “Have you found a place to stay yet?”

“No.” He sighed sadly. “I’ve been looking all day, but there is just nothing in my price range. I saved up some money, but not THAT much money. I guess these things take time though...I shouldn’t be impatient.” He looked up from his hands and back at you. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I found a place yesterday, actually.” You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. Not wanting to rub it in Taehyung’s face that you had already found a place.

“What?! Really?!” Taehyung yelled, causing you to slightly jump in your seat.

“I mean...I walked around all day looking for a place, and I kinda just stumbled upon it really.” You rushed.

“Wow. What awesome luck.” He said as he threw his arm over the back of his chair. He wasn’t mad at you, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t jealous.

The thought popped into your head. Maybe...he could stay with me until he finds a place. The company would be nice...and you haven’t genuinely hung out with anyone since that day… You shook your head and hit yourself. Get yourself together Y/N...You haven’t even known the guy for more than a couple hours...How do you know he’s not a creep or a murderer?!

Taehyung’s laugh pulled you out of your internal argument, and you blushed at his stare on you. “I know what you’re thinking.” He said quietly.

“You don’t have to feel bad or push yourself to invite me to live with you or anything like that. Although, I would like to keep in contact...If that is okay. It is a little lonely in this world, you know?” He looked at you and you could tell he was being sincere with his words.

You nodded. “Actually, I was thinking that the company might not be so bad…” You looked anywhere but his face. Not wanting him to catch you struggling with the fact that you are inviting a stranger to live with you. “We...We could split the rent and utilities...I have an extra room...So it’s not like it would be an inconvenience…” You began, rushing the words out awkwardly.

“Y/N..” You heard Taehyung call, and you immediately halted your tirade. “I would like that. Can I see the apartment first? I gotta make sure I’m not agreeing to live with a creep or anything…” He winked at you and laughed.

“Y-Yeah. Let’s go. It’s across the street.” You said, standing up to collect your belongings and made your way out of the coffee shop and across the street. Taehyung quietly following a few feet behind you.

Oh Y/N...What are you getting yourself into...

[watchmist1412]

BTI Chapter 7

Co-written by @bloodredruby and @watchmist1412

BTI Fanart  // Nalu cover // Gruvia cover

Words ~ 5200

Rated K+

Summary: Figure Skating AU. After an accident Gray, a professional figure skater, has to take some time off to heal and he’s not enjoying it AT ALL. What he didn’t expect was meeting Juvia, a swimmer tired of her career, even less ending up as her coach. Lucy, an aspiring figure skater, came to realize it was a whole new experience with a pink haired weirdo and his equally weird cat by her side.

Fanfiction.net

<<Previous Chapter // First Chapter

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Lucy winced as she landed the Axel jump barely being able to keep her balance for a split second before stumbling and almost falling to the cold hard ice. She could feel Aquarius glaring daggers at her back.

They had been practicing that move almost the whole training session now and she didn’t seem to be making much progress. Needless to say her coach had been beginning to feel a little irritated. Well it wasn’t like it needed much trying to get Aquarius angry. Lucy seemed to be achieving that just by being near her.

Lucy had always prided herself for being a relatively fast learner so she shouldn’t be taking that much to get a move right. She didn’t know what was wrong with her on that day but she just couldn’t do it! It frustrated her to no ends. And more importantly she did not want to manage with her equally frustrated coach.

“Just. What. Do you think. You’re doing.” Lucy winced once again. Aquarius made a point to emphasize each word but kept her tone low. That wasn’t good. She almost wished the woman was yelling at her.

“It’s not like you haven’t executed similar moves! I just don’t get it. All day it’s like you have your head in the clouds! ”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, that’s not the point! That’s a move you really have to know!” the older woman scoffed “You know what? Forget it. We’re done for today.”

“What? But I still haven’t-“

“Yeah, yeah I know. If it’s an off day for you it’s no use staying here. It’s a big waste of time for both of us. You can do some stamina training or something, I don’t care.” Aquarius moved to the edges of the rink and Lucy followed her after a brief moment of hesitation.

“Next time I expect you to execute that without having to touch the ice. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The two started undoing their skates in silence.

“You know, I’m really wondering which idiot was your previous teacher. You’re not terrible yourself but you really lack in some practical departments.”

Lucy felt her heart jump out of her chest. There it was. She couldn’t have avoided that topic forever. “Oh, umm. You see the thing is…” she stumbled with her words. “I didn’t really have a skating teacher.”

“WHAT?” Aquarius turned to look at her with wide eyes “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mostly learned on my own. Mom helped me at first but then… Well I practiced on my own with a little help of the owner of the local rink. He didn’t give me full lessons but he helped me with whatever I needed.”

“Wait, are you saying Jude couldn’t afford to get you a skating teacher?”

“He… wasn’t really fond of the idea of me following my mother’s footsteps. He even forbade me from skating.” Lucy laughed awkwardly. She had gone to great lengths to sneak past him and train whenever she could.

“Oh my- Oh, he’s so dead! That absolute moron forbade Layla’s daughter from skating!! Just you wait I’ll-”

At that moment a ringtone sounded through the rink and Aquarius frantically searched her handbag to pull out her phone. Lucy tried not to look so relieved at the interruption.

“What?” She answered the phone angrily. “YOU DID WHAT?”

Lucy almost felt bad for the person calling. The woman wasn’t in her best mood at the moment. At least it wasn’t directed at her anymore.

“You unbelievable little- Okay, just stay where you are I’m coming.” She finished the call while spouting not so kind words at the black screen of the cellphone.

“I have to go.” She turned to Lucy “Something came up.”

The blonde sighed in relief. That phone call was her savior!

“This isn’t over yet, you know.” Aquarius said, reading Lucy’s mind, before she left the room in a hurry.

That was a very tiring day… But at least she was done with practice earlier than expected! Now she could go home, have a nice warm bath, take a long nap and-

“Hey Lucy!”

“WHAT THE-“ The girl in question screamed in surprise as bright pink head sprouted seemingly out of nowhere. “NATSU??”

“Well yeah, it’s me, are you having memory problems from that age?”

“I know it’s you idiot! Will you ever stop doing that?”

“Do what?” Natsu asked blinking innocently.

“Oh you know exactly what I mean.” Lucy squinted at him “Why can’t you go into a room like a normal person.”

“I did come in like a normal person! But the crazy lady was here and I think she still keeps a grudge on me.”

“That’s ridiculous, she doesn’t- wait no, you may have a point…”

“See!” Natsu grinned in triumph.

“Wait, how long were you hiding?”

“Hmm, not sure. I was done with practice early and I came to see how you were doing.”

Lucy felt her heart jump inside her chest.

Had he heard about Lucy’s dad? Did he know who she was? She didn’t want that! She didn’t want him to treat her differently…

“You didn’t hear anything… weird?” she asked cautiously.

“Weird? No, not really. I was too far away to hear what you were talking about if that’s what you meant.”

Lucy sighed in relief “It wasn’t anything serious anyway.”

“Though, I was here long enough to see you fail in the Axel jump” he smirked.

“I’m working on that!” Lucy exclaimed glaring at her companion “I’ll have it down in no time, you just caught me on a bad day.” She defended herself.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! Everyone has their bad days. I remember when I first started skating I had a huge problem with it! Gildarts was ready to give up on me!”

“Really? I found that pretty easy, it was one of the first moves I mastered.”

“I salute you for that. I still struggle with that stuff.”

“Oh, I know!” Natsu’s whole face brightened up “We could practice together tomorrow! I could help you with that!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? I don’t have practice with Gildarts anyway.”

“Thanks.” Lucy smiled at him gratefully. “I really appreciate it.”

Lucy picked up her backpack and slid it on her left shoulder adjusting the strap so that it wouldn’t slide off “Well I should get going now. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, bye!” Natsu waved at her excitedly.

Lucy moved to exit the rink but before she even took one step forward she felt a hand grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her around forcibly.

“NO WAIT!”

Lucy looked at her fellow skater quizzing. “Okay?”

“Ahh I can’t believe I almost forgot! It’s your fault you know!” he pointed at Lucy accusatory

“What? How is it my fault I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Lucy furrowed her eyebrows.

“The reason I came to see you!” Natsu exclaimed excitedly “Come on, I need to show you something.” He grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her towards the exit.

“Hey, hey, you can’t just drag me like that! You didn’t even ask if I had anything else to do!” Lucy pulled back at Natsu’s arm and pulled both of them to a halt.

The boy turned to her with a blank expression as if contemplating something before asking “Do you have anything else to do?”

“No…”

“Why are you making this complicated then?” Natsu looked at her judgingly “Weirdo.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this before!!”

“Yeah well you don’t seem to have stopped proving me right.”

“You know what, I think something just came up.”

“Nooo wait Lucy I didn’t mean it!”

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

In the end Lucy caved in to Natsu’s pleas and let her new friend drag her through the building before stopping in front of a wooden door somewhere in the second floor.

“Wait, wait!” Lucy stopped the boy before he could turn the door handle to let them in.

“What?”

She pointed at the sign that hanged in the center of the door that read ‘staff only’ “Are you sure we can go in there?”

“Lucy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re part of Fairy Tail now, you’re basically the staff.”

“Oh…”

“Besides we put the sign there.” He stepped into the room while opening his arms widely. “Welcome to our hideout!!”

Lucy carefully stepped inside and was immediately greeted with an explosion of colors.

The small roomed was crumped with two brown and one blue single seat sofas with a huge TV screen on the center of the room. On a first notice the room was pretty messy. There were clothes lying around on the floor and small everyday things like some headphones and plushies. And was that a mini fridge on the corner? However it didn’t look bad. It had sort of a lived in feeling to it. It was comforting.

Lucy eyes were immediately drawn to the tall bright red bookshelf that took up one of the walls of the room. It was filled with books, CDs, figurines and trophies. Lucy smiled subconsciously as she came closer and browsed through the shelves recognizing a few titles.

“So what do you think?”

“That’s amazing!” she turned at her companion with a huge grin. “What is this room?”

“Oh it’s our little hideout. We come here to relax and hang out in between practice. You can come here anytime you want!”

“Really?”

“Yeah sure, I wouldn’t have brought you there otherwise!”

Lucy felt the corners of her mouth twitch up “Thanks, I’ll take you on that offer.”

Natsu flashed a bright smile in response. “Hey you wanna play some games?”

“Games?”

The boy gestured to the TV at the end of the room and Lucy noticed for the first time a small gaming device being plugged into it.

“It has mostly old games but I think those are the best. So what do you say?” Natsu looked at her with wide expectant eyes.

“Ah, I’m not sure…”

“Please!!!”

Lucy could only hold her rink mate’s puppy dog eyes for three seconds before caving in. Seriously it should be illegal for a grown up man to be this cute “Okay fine! I guess I can stay for a few games…”

“Yessss!!” Natsu ran to the game console fumbling with a few CDs lost in his own world while Lucy moved awkwardly to one of the couches trying not to regret her decision. A few games wouldn’t hurt would they?

“Ah, that’s right!” Natsu exclaimed as he turned sharply to the other occupant of the room “I should probably let you chose” he said as he held up several game cases that Lucy didn’t recognize. “So, what do you wanna play first?”

“No, it’s okay you choose. I… don’t really know any of them.”

Natsu looked puzzled before holding up one of the games again “Come on you don’t even know Tekken?”

“Sorry, no. I haven’t really played any video games.” She really couldn’t, not with her father thinking they were a massive waste of time.

Natsu looked at her scandalized with his mouth open wide and a hand clutching his heart. “You’ve seriously never played?? Oh man I can’t believe this we have to fix that immediately.” He quickly popped a cd into the console and flopped into the couch next to Lucy.

“Prepare to be amazed, that’s my favorite game of all time.” He said as he handed Lucy a controller. “I won’t be going easy on you just because you’re a newbie you know!”

“I wasn’t expecting anything less.” Lucy smiled before turning back to the screen.

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

“NO NO NO NO!!! AHH DAMN IT!”

A large K.O appeared at the TV screen and a video of the finishing blow replayed after it.

Natsu glared at Lucy through his eyelashes “You cheated!”

“Hey, I didn’t cheat! It’s not my fault I have natural talent!”

“You definitely lied! No way you were playing for the first time!”

“You’re just grumpy because I’m better than you!” Lucy smirked.

“What? Hah, I was just going easy on you cause you were new.”

“What happened to ‘I won’t be going easy on you just because you’re a newbie you know!’ ” Lucy did a poor imitation of her fellow skater only to have a pillow thrown at her general direction.

“Shut up, don’t get stuck in the past!”

“It was literally an hour ago.”

“Shh, the past. I demand a rematch!!”

“What again? This is our 10th round! Just admit I’m better than you.”

“Never…” whispered Natsu in a low tone that sent Lucy into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously though, let’s take a break I’m getting a bit tired”

“Fine! This isn’t over!”

Natsu went to turn off the TV and console while sending her fake glares and Lucy curled up in her couch. This was surprisingly very fun. She could really get used to this she thought and a faint smile found its way to her face.

Of course she should have known better to expect a moment of calmness in this rink… To say Lucy was surprised when she felt a sudden weight in her lap would be a huge understatement. It didn’t help that when her eyes immediately shot down she locked eyes with a small blue cat.

They stared at each other for less than a second before Lucy’s mind processed the situation and she let out a surprised shriek startling the cat. Lucy stood up from the couch and jumped behind it in a speed she didn’t know she was capable of as soon as the cat had left her lap. She didn’t know if that was made clear enough but the cat was blue!! Blue! She wasn’t a cat expert but she knew that wasn’t in the very least natural!

“What, what is it?” Natsu got up alarmed as he tried to locate the reason for Lucy’s screams.

In response she mutely pointed to the small animal which was now looking at her almost with confusion as she tried to calm her racing heart from the surprise. The boy’s eyes followed to where her finger was pointing and broke into a soft smile.

“Oh hey buddy! I didn’t know you were awake.”

Lucy stared in astonishment as the cat mewed at the pink haired boy and went to rub it’s head in his leg as Natsu petted it softly.

“You know the cat??”

“What? Of course I should know him, it’s my cat!”

Lucy continued to stare at the duo in bewilderment. “Your… cat.” She said slowly.

“Ah that’s right! I haven’t introduced you two yet.” He picked up the cat and turned to her direction. “Lucy this is Happy, Happy this is Lucy! She may seem a bit weird but you get used to her.” He said stage whispering the last part.

“Hey, you- wait are pets even allowed in the building?”

Natsu theatrically gasped and pulled Happy closer to his chest “Pet! Happy’s not a pet he’s my friend! And he’s technically allowed as long as he doesn’t bother anyone.”

“Technically? So he’s- you know what, I don’t care at this point…”

Natsu shot her a smile that slowly turned into a frown “Wait what got you scared before? Don’t tell me it was Happy?”

Lucy bit her lip and looked away from the other skater.

“It was!” he said in delight “Oh man this is golden, Happy’s harmless! Well unless you’re a pillow he really likes to destroy those.”

“Shut up I wasn’t scared, I was just startled! You don’t see a blue cat pop out of nowhere every day! Wait we’ve overlooked that for too long. Why the hell is your cat blue?”

“Ah yes…” Natsu rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly “You see he had a bit of an accident.”

“Yes?” Lucy prompted him

“So I was mixing some colors to paint my room when Happy was just a kitten. When I took my eyes of him for a few minutes he managed to fall right into a full bucket of blue paint.”

Lucy stared at him in disbelief “Are you kidding me, shouldn’t it have come off?”

“Yeah that’s the problem… you see I was kind of experimenting with some chemicals and the paint turned out to be permanent.”

“Experimenting- why would you be experimenting with paint? You really shouldn’t be trusted with another living being.”

“Hey Happy’s okay with it, right buddy?”

The cat mewed loudly as if agreeing and Lucy sighed in defeat flopping back into the couch. “Ah I give up…”

It wasn’t long before she felt something bump against her leg and looked down to see the cat once again by her side. She hesitated for a second before slowly petting his head. Lucy smiled unconsciously as Happy relaxed into her hand and purred softly.

“Wow, he really likes you.” Lucy turned to see Natsu looking to the scene in amusement. “It takes some time for him to warm up to strangers. It took him about a month to even sit within ten meters of Laxus. He still doesn’t like him that much.”

“Wait, Laxus? As in Laxus Dreyar, one of the worldwide top figure skaters??”

“Well I wouldn’t call him one of the top anymore, he’s retired.”

“That’s not the point! How do you know Laxus?”

“He’s the grandson of the owner of Fairy Tail.” Natsu said like it was an obvious thing.

Lucy’s eyes widened “Are you serious right now?”

“Ohhh right, most people don’t know that. He used to train here but then he left us to form his own little group. Said we would be holding him back. You’re lucky you didn’t meet him then, he was a bit of an asshole. The console is his by the way, he left it behind and we conveniently forgot to give it back.”

“Wow, it’s amazing!!!”

“Did you hear anything I said??

“Fairy Tail is so amazing!” Lucy continued unbothered “Wait do you know any of the other skaters!”

“Hmm, what do you mean?”

“I’ve heard about so many incredible figure skaters have their training rink in Fairy Tail! Ohhh do you know Titania? She’s so cool I wanna be able to skate like her one day!”

“You won’t be saying that once you meet her.” Mumbled Natsu

“What?”

“Nothing nothing, I said you’ll meet her soon.”

“Really?” a huge smile lighted up Lucy’s face. “Oh how about Fullbuster, is he still here after… you know.”

“Oh the ice princess? Yeah unfortunately you’ll be seeing him soon too.”

“And the Salamander?”

“What?” Natsu chocked out.

“I haven’t really been keeping up with men’s figure skating but I heard the Salamander is in this rink? I saw his performance once and he was so cool!”

“Really, you think he’s cool?”

“Of course, have you seen his skating? He’s on fire every time he enters the ice!”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” Natsu smirked at her.

“Hmm, what do you mean?”

“The Salamander is right here!” He spread his arms wide proudly.

Lucy’s smile fell from her face. “You?? You’re the-”

“Yep, Natsu Dragneel, the Salamander. That’s me!”

“Wait, you’re a pro skater?”

“Yeah of course I am! What did you think?”

“I don’t know, certainly not being a national famous skater!” Lucy exclaimed flustered “Sorry… I- uh, you weren’t what I was expecting.”

“Wow Lucy you really know how to talk to people. I’m not the cool guy you were expecting?” He said with a teasing smile.

“Oh my god, forget everything I said earlier.” Lucy hid her now blushing face behind her hands while Natsu exploded into fits of laughter.

They ended up talking for hours from Natsu’s experiences and encounters at competitions (“I swear Lucy he showed up with black eyeshadow and lipstick, he looked like a Tanuki, and danced as the evil witch putting a spell to his ex girlfriend! I think I saw him cry on the ice…”) to arguing whether vanilla or chocolate ice cream was better. Talking with Natsu was easy, it felt like they were best friends for ages and the conversation never flopped always having something to comment on.

“Hey Natsu can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Why pink hair? I mean it doesn’t look bad but it’s an interesting choice of color.”

“Ah yeah, that… You see Luce when you want to dye your hair you should always check the time limit for the dye to set in.”

“No!”

“Yes! It was supposed to be red to match with my skating outfit! Gray teased me for days after that.”

Lucy didn’t notice how much time had passed talking until Levy called to see where she had disappeared.

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

It had been a couple of days since Gray last saw the weird blue haired woman and stopped to help her. He still has no idea why he did that. He should have just minded his own business and gone his way but no! His stupid mouth has to open up and blurt out the first thing that came to his mind. After realizing what he’d done he had pressed his lips in a tight line panicking inwardly and wished Juvia hadn’t heard him. Of course luck was never on his side when it came to her.

To make things worse apparently Mira was passing by and saw the whole scene and now she wouldn’t stop teasing him. As if she didn’t have enough teasing material before. She never failed to inform him every time he finished his individual practice that Juvia was in the public rink and Gray always walked away silently cursing the white haired woman. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Juvia. Sure she was a bit weird and their first encounter wasn’t exactly normal but he didn’t hold anything against her. It was more that he had no idea how to act with her.

Gray was lost in his thoughts when he realized he was nearing the reception desk and quickened his pace. He wasn’t in the mood for Mira’s teasing remarks at the moment. However it wasn’t the receptionist he found waiting.

“Gildarts?”

The man looked up from his phone and smiled at him “Hey kiddo! Long time no see! I was waiting for you.”

“What do you want?” he asked suspicious.

“What I’m not allowed to miss my cute little student?”

“You literally took Natsu and I for dinner last week.”

“Ah you’re no fun anymore, I miss when you were all respectful to me when I first started coaching you. Tell me how are you, how the leg going?”

“Good? There’s still some time before I can start official training. But you knew that already.”

Gildarts hummed in agreement “Good, good… So how’s Juvia doing?”

“Good-wait! How do you know about this?” Gray squinted his eyes to the other man.

“Oh, a little bird told me you were voluntary helping a sweet woman with her skating.” He said grinning

“Mira…” Gray grumbled

“They grow up so fast… you already have your own student. And it’s a cute girl nonetheless.” He wiped a fake tear out of his eyes.

“She’s not- Look I don’t know what she told you but they were all lies.”

“Oh so you didn’t give a lesson to this Juvia girl?”

“No! Yes. That’s not- Okay I did but that was a one-time thing!” he fumbled with his words. The man’s grin grew out even more.

“Or go on an ice cream date with her?”

“It wasn’t a date!!” Gray spluttered embarrassed but the older wasn’t finished.

“And you didn’t go completely out of your way to give her tips?”

“What the hell, is she just giving you reports on my life now?”

“Ah so you don’t deny it!” he exclaimed in triumph.

“No, I- Fine believe whatever you want I don’t care! I won’t be helping her anymore that was it.”

“Gray I think you should be her teacher.” Gildarts said in a serious tone the teasing smile having been erased and his former student looked at him in bewilderment.

“Are you joking?”

“No, I’m being completely serious. Gray I know this past few months have been difficult for you and I understand but I feel like you’ve been distanced from us, from your friends.” Gray frowned but before he could talk back the man continued “Mira told me you’ve been livelier these past few days, I really think taking on that girl as a student would help you out.”

“But-“

“No buts, here me out first! It wouldn’t have to interfere with your own training. Just a few hours a week. You will have some social interaction and I believe teaching someone can benefit with your own skating skills.”

“I don’t know Gildarts I have so much going on and…”

His former coach placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder “I know kid, believe me. But I really think this can do you good, I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. Promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I- yeah okay. I promise.” Gray agreed reluctantly.

“Great!” the smile reappeared on his face “Now excuse me I have to go pick up my cute daughter for dinner!”

“Does Cana know about it?”

“Nope!” he said excited as he walked to the exit door “Don’t forget your promise!”

Gray waved at him until the man disappeared and he dropped his hand down in defeat. What had he gotten himself into?

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

After his talk with Gildarts Gray went straight to his house the man’s words circling around his head. He tried to distract himself by binge watching series but after realizing he had no idea what happened in the last three episodes because he was zoning out he gave up. He somehow managed to fall asleep without many problems and had put the whole situation in the back of his head the next morning. Well that was until later that afternoon.

“Gray~” the man in question visibly stiffened as he heard his name being called out by a certain receptionist. This wouldn’t be good. Couldn’t he just go home one day without any interruptions? Please?

He slowly turned around and forced a smile at his friend “Hey Mira… I was just going home.” He tried dropping a hint to be left alone but obviously that wasn’t in the woman’s plans.

She smiled at him sweetly from behind the counter and rested her head on her clasped hands. “Can you do me a small favor?”

“Uh, sure what is it?”

“It’s time to close down the rink and I have to go lock the upper floor down. Would you mind going in the main rink and seeing if anyone’s still there?” she threw something at his direction that Gray caught instinctively realizing it was the rink’s keys when he opened his palm “Lock it too.”

“Close down?” Gray furrowed his eyebrows confused “I didn’t stay that late didn’t I, there’s still half an hour to go.”

“Ah, something came up and I have to leave, I can’t just keep the place open. Now go make sure no one’s getting locked inside.” She smiled again and lightly pushed him to down to the direction of the main rink.

Gray adjusted the straps on his backpack and started moving eager to get done with this as soon as possible. He had a bad feeling about this. Once he reached the metal doors separating the public rink with the corridor he poked his head inside.

He was ready to shout for everyone inside to start leaving before he noticed a single figure in the middle of the ice. Gray felt his words die inside his throat. Of course. Why else would Mira make him go all this way!

Unconsciously he tried to blend in with the background and felt his gaze being drawn to the blue haired woman. She seemed to still be practicing what he had taught her and he felt a strange feeling of pride washing over him as he noticed her improvement. Oh no he was already getting into a teacher mode!

After a few more seconds of staring at her Gray snapped out of his daze remembering the reason he was sent here. Though he was pretty damn sure the reason was different than what he first thought.

“Excuse me we will be closing down now if you could please-” Gray let his sentence fade out as Juvia locked gazes with him her lips forming an O shape.

She moved her arm up and waved shyly at him from the middle of the rink. “Hello!”

“Uh, hey Juvia I didn’t know you were here today… Sorry we’re closing down in a few minutes.”

“Oh sorry Juvia lost track of time!” she said as she skated towards the edge of the rink trying to take her skates out as soon as possible.

“Ah no you’re good don’t worry. We’re just closing a bit sooner today.”

Gray watched as the girl returned the skates to the stand and got her backpack. She stepped outside the door and Gray fumbled with the keys for a second trying to find the right one.

“So how’s your practice going?” he heard himself asking before he could realize it. Stupid mouth of his…

“Oh, umm it’s going good?”

“Are you asking me?” Gray said amused.

“No! It’s good! It’s just that Juvia can’t really judge for herself.”

“Yeah…Well if you practice enough you’re sure to get better at it. You could get in a group too if you want to improve faster.”

Juvia noticeably winced at his words “Juvia can’t. She doesn’t really have a lot of free time.” Gray wondered if the hint of sadness in her voice was his imagination but he couldn’t process it enough before she shot him a bright smile and continued “Juvia is really happy she got to have that one lesson with you! She’ll be going now, it was nice seeing you again.”

Suddenly all Gildarts had said passed through his mind as he looked at the blue haired woman in front of him. She seemed to genuinely enjoy skating.

“Hey are you still up for those lessons?” he asked before he could change his mind.”

“What?” Juvia looked at him with wide eyes.

“You said before you wanted me to teach you, have you changed your mind?”

“NO! Of course not! But you said before-”

“Yeah, I know what I said but I thought about it. So what do you say?”

“Yes of course!!” a huge smile appeared on her face “But how much should Juvia pay you?”

Gray chocked on air. He hadn’t thought about that “Pay?”

“Yeah isn’t that natural?”

“No nope we’re not doing that. I’d feel bad taking money from you I’ve never taught anyone before.”

“But-”

“Nope, I’m not changing my mind on this. Ah we should probably meet up and discuss this more seriously. Do you have time tomorrow?”

Juvia nodded frantically, seemingly still in shock by the whole situation.

“Okay, cool. I, uh… I’ll see you on the rink tomorrow then.” Gray turned on his heels and walked away as fast as he could before he could see her response. If he had stayed any longer he was sure to make a fool of himself.

He passed the reception throwing the keys into Mira’s desk and bolting out of the building. It wasn’t until he was lying on his couch at home when he fully realized what had happened. Surprisingly he didn’t find himself regretting it.

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

Hey guys it's been a long time! First of all we're sorry for the long wait the hiatus took way longer than I expected it but we're here now! As a disclaimer we may take long sometimes with the chapters but the story won't ever be abandoned don't worry! We hoped you enjoyed reading the new chapter we're looking forward to hearing your thoughts about it.

See you next chap!

[el-mroko]

My girlfriend has a dog. Tequila. I have a dog. Freja. I have a cat. Loki. I also have rats. Was three of them, now, with agreement with my girlfriend we adopted two more. I love them and treat them equally. She loves them equally too I’m sure.

We treat them as OURS pets. Not hers and mine, ours.

I adore her empathy and love and caring for furry friends. That’s how we met.

But lately things got nasty. 

For some time now I feel like I’m the only one thinking about their well-being, taking care of them, feeding them (rats, cause my mom feeds the dogs at ungodly morning hours), cleaning after them or cleaning rat’s cage, or lately evening going for a walk.

She does that, or helps me sometimes, but only when I ask about it (often a few times before she finally does that). It’s like, she’s tired, she’s sleep deprived, she’s sick, not feeling well. Or we can do it some other time, we can do it later, there are more important things... I usually say fine if it comes to her health or fatigue, I understand she feels tired or hurt, and I do cleaning alone. Because it was mostly about cleaning rat’s cage.

But we both go to work.

I work for 7-8 hours a day. On different shifts. Sometimes it’s whole week on 8 or 12 or 14, sometimes it’s 14pm today and 8am tomorrow.

Her work is worse. 8 to 12 hours a day, night shifts, morning shifts, depends.

We live together, in my mom’s house. We both get to work by train and tram which takes us two-three hours per day. My workplace is one tram stop farther than hers. Frequently we wait for each other to return home together. She comes to my work and waits an hour or I’m doing overtime waiting for her. I love journeys with her, even if it comes to usual ride home.

Last week was hard on us. We’re having quite a serious renovation moving to a different room. Changing floors, painting walls, all that. We’re doing it ourselves as my family always did those things and was good at it. It wasn’t precisely planned. Nobody knew when would we start. It happened my younger bro is on a leave and I decided to take two days off - Monday and Tuesday - so we could do more things.

Kas, my gf, couldn’t take a leave, so she helped us after work as much as she could. She had free Tuesday. Unfortunately she had morning shift this whole week, meaning she had to get up at 4am to get to work on 6am, usually to 14.30 or 15.30 so she returned around 16-17. It’s exhausting, I imagine. Additionally, she doesn’t like her work. Doesn’t like people there - not everyone, obviously, but sometimes it’s hard on her.

I try to give her a lift to our train station - it’s around 10-15 minutes walk from home - or pick her up when she’s back. I admit, I tend to fuse about her waking me up this early, but I always get up and start a car, wish her good day and kiss her goodbye. Dammit, everyone would complain a bit. I always tell her to wake me anyway, I’ll just grizzle my part, but always take her to the fucking station. She wakes me only sometimes. This week she woke me up only yesterday.

I’m no sure it was because she doesn’t like bothering me, or because I was ill. I got sick leave from Wednesday because of my laringitis. I felt like shit this whole week, but I tried to do as much as I could, to help my bros and my mom.

Despite being sick, having a fever and sore throat, I spent whole days accommodating our room, arranging books and clothes and other stuff. I also tried to take care of our new rats - I tried to introduce them to my pack so they wouldn’t be bullied. I wanted to give them space and provide them all with runs. I also wanted to take our dogs out but I just wasn’t able to.  Kas was working at work, I was working at home.

When she got back on Wednesday - she ate dinner, opened a beer, and went to sleep, which was fully understandable cause she slept only five hours day before. We’re cuddling, but soon I knew I have rats to take care of, and another room to make up - the one we occupied till now, with total mess and two separate rat cages (they weren’t yet introduced, hence more cleaning...). When she finally woke up, I just said she promised to help me, and promised to hang my bookshelf.

The atmosphere was tense.

When she got back on Thursday, she hung my shelf so I could busy myself with arranging books and adding final touches to our room. Then she started relaxing after work. Again, I was the one taking care of rats.

She always calls to pick her up. Which I do, day by day, everyday. Except yesterday, when I wanted to take our two dogs for a walk, because they’ve been home for a WHOLE WEEK, since SATURDAY to yesterday WITHOUT a SINGLE walk past a FENCE. Only running on our yard (it’s quite big), couple times a day (I took them once, on Tuesday, when Kas was home, for a run in fields behind my home).

I called her, having both dogs on a leash, that I’ll come on foot with girls to get her. I met with such a NO response I was in shock. She wants a ride because she’s tired. Dogs can wait.

An hour.

A day.

Next week.

I said no. I took them for a walk but didn’t get to the station. I figured they deserved better than 15 minutes after a whole week in a closet.

What I heard after I entered home hurt my deepest feelings. It was a low blow I was not expecting from her, ever.

She said I cared more about dogs and rats than her.

Till now I try to understand how and why she said that. How could she say it about her own dog. How could she say it about our pets, pets, that are dependent on us, totally. 

Pets I try to fill only minimal needs, because she DOES NOT DO THAT.

The little one, the young rat was adopted ill. He required nebulization and injections. I cared about it. Then, he was bitten quite bad, I cared for that too. She didn’t even ask how’s he.

I bought our dogs a toothpaste, cause Tequila has much worse plaque than ever. And I’m the one using it, remembering and thinking about using it.

It does not matter if I’m on a leave, sick leave, or if I go to work. It doesn’t matter if I get back at 16, at 21 or 23. I take care of all those things, or at least I try, because almost each time I get back home and ask if anything was done, the answer it  “no”.

I make her coffee, tea, breakfast if we get up together, we do both or I’m the one making it. Dinner is up to my mom or myself, supper or lunch or any meal, it’s always me. I’m the one serving sandwiches.I’m the one packing dinner to work. I’m the one making dinner FUCKING VEGGIES for work. I’m here to rub her back, to give her a massage, find something she can’t, translate thing she does not understand, make her a cocoa while she plays a game, clean a room so she can play a ps4 without a dust on a console.

When it comes to dirty work - I’m always there.

But I care more about dogs and rats than her.

[likexporcelain]

A Crack in Everything (Chapter 4/8) - Jonerys

Summary: Six years after their high school romance ended in emotional ruin, Daenerys Targaryen runs into Jon Snow by chance on Valentine's Day, forcing old memories to the resurface. This sudden reunion could be cathartic, but it could also deepen the cracks already in their hearts. The question Daenerys grapples with is, will this all be worth it in the end?

Rating: Explicit

First 4 chapters up on Ao3 -- more tags/warnings/notes there

The first time Jon and I kissed, we didn't stop for thirty minutes, and when the bell rang, we walked to Chemistry together with silly smiles on our faces. We had made a nonverbal agreement not to kiss in front of our classmates, though. Our relationship wasn't for public scrutiny. It was for us.

We were calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend by the end of the week.

I fell in love with Jon almost immediately after that, or maybe I had already been in love with him and just hadn't realized it. I had always thought falling in love was supposed to happen over a long period of time and that loving someone so passionately so quickly meant that the relationship was doomed. Maybe I had been right, but when I was with Jon, kissing him, touching him, laughing with him, I thought that we would last forever. I would never have another boyfriend. I would go to school and he would follow me, we would get an apartment together and watch each other grow as people, we would get married after my graduation, buy a small house on a large piece of land and have two kids by the time I turned thirty. I would be a wildlife biologist and he would teach modern literature. I planned it all out in my head during our first couple of months as a couple, and sometimes, I would interrupt our lunch time make-out sessions to add a new detail to our fifteen year plan.

“Goats,” I said once against his mouth, to which he made such a profoundly confused face and I couldn't help but laugh at. I had been sitting across his lap and I could feel his hard on against my leg, so I figured it was time to get his mind on something other than what making out could sometimes lead to. “What do you think of goats? I've always wanted them.”

“Well. . .” Jon began, scrunching his eyebrows, mulling the question over. “I can honestly say I've never met a goat I didn't like.”

“I want goats. At least two, so they aren't lonely.”

“That makes sense,” Jon replied with a nod. “What about a dog? I've always wanted a dog. A big dog.”

“I like dogs. Can we also get an iguana? I kind of have a thing for reptiles.”

Another nod while he twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. “I'm glad you told me. It's good that we get our fetishes out in the open now before we get too deep into this relationship.”

I laughed so abruptly that I snorted and buried my face into the curve of Jon's neck.

“I'm not really a lizard man myself,” he continued in an analytical sort of voice. “However, I did used to have a thing for Nala from the Lion King.”

“Please, stop,” I choked out through my fit of laughter. I leaned away from him, flopping onto my back on the pavement and splaying my hands over my chest. “I'm going to have a heart attack.”

Turning onto his knees, Jon leaned over me and kissed the backs of my hands. My giggles subsiding, I moved one hand to his cheek and brought his mouth to mine. When the bell rang and our lips parted, I realized what a compromising position we had been in, with me on my back and Jon above me, his tongue in my mouth and his knee on the concrete between my parted legs. We hadn't yet done anything more than make out and feel each other over our clothes, but in that moment I wished we were in a bed somewhere rather than behind the basketball gym at school.

While we walked to Chemistry, Jon bumped my shoulder with his arm and asked “Do you think we could teach the iguana to ride on the dog's back? Because that would be worth it right there.”

Tapping a finger against my chin, I replied “I think we could figure it out.”

Just a week later, university acceptance letters began to filter into the mailboxes of every student at Westeros Prep. All except one. It had made sense to me that Jon would go to college because I knew how intelligent he was. I could see him hanging out on a state school campus, lounging against a thick tree trunk, reading Of Mice and Men between classes, but Jon hadn't applied anywhere, and had made no indication that he was planning on applying in the future.

The only time he ever mentioned college was in reference to my own pursuits. When he saw a college fair had popped up in the quad one day, Jon made us go during our lunch period and as we fluttered from booth to booth, from Georgetown to Duke, from Columbia to USC, from Brown to Stanford, and so on and so on, he had made a passing comment I should have paid more attention to:

“The only booth that was ever set up at my old school was for the military, and it was there everyday. Actually, the Army recruitment office was just across the street from campus, between a Pizza Hut and the Metro PCS store.”

I recall those words often, wondering how long Jon had been considering joining the Army without telling me. For a long time after finding out Jon had decided to enlist, I was sick to my stomach with worry and guilt, so it made me feel better to think that it was always something he was interested in, that maybe being in the military would give him something I couldn't, that somehow, ironically, it would bring him peace.

* * * * *

While Jon drove me home from the pier that Saturday, I watched his fingers dance absentmindedly across the back of my hand over the center console. When he pulled up in front of my building, I hesitated, wanting to invite him inside, but after a few moments silence, I unbuckled and climbed out of the car. Before I shut the car door, Jon leaned over he console and asked “Can I come see you again soon?”

I told him he could, then went inside, noticing through the glass front doors of the complex that Jon's Jeep remained parked out front until I was inside my apartment.

The next day, I had assumed optimistically that Jon would be waiting for me again when I got off my shift, but that wasn't the case. I worried that he'd changed his mind, that, after fully processing what all I confessed to him on the pier, he decided I was too damaged now.

But, Monday evening, there was a knock on my apartment door.

I was watching a Shark Tank marathon and eating Ben & Jerry's out of the pint tub – that and the two-liter of Diet Coke on the floor beside the sofa was my dinner. I really should have spent the day searching for another part-time job so that I could start making enough money to achieve my new life dream of being able to afford my own apartment, one with a dishwasher, but the overwhelming feeling of utter hopelessness kept me watching reality TV since waking up.

“Missi! Your B.F. is here!” I called out, knowing she and her boyfriend had a date that night, because she had been in the bathroom for almost two hours getting ready.

She rushed through the living room with only one shoe on, muttering something about how she thought they were meeting at the restaurant. I kept my eyes on the TV, but when Missandei opened our front door, it wasn't her boyfriend's voice I heard, it was Jon's.

“Hi, is Daenerys here?”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise and I looked to the door, but all I could see was Missandei's slender back and part of the mostly-opened front door. Then she twisted around and shot me a suspicious look.

“Daenerys,” she said with an inflection, because she'd never heard anyone use my full name before, “the door's for you.”

Moving quicker than I had all day, I stood and ran into the kitchen, throwing my ice cream back into the freezer and splashing water from the sink on my face. It occurred to me that I was in my pajamas, but thankfully they also happened to double as normal, though very casual day clothes – yoga pants and a somewhat over-sized Los Angeles Rams t-shirt. Missandei side eyed me as she sauntered back to the bathroom and I shuffled to the door while tying my hair back as neatly as I could.

“Hey,” Jon said.

With nervous surprise, I told him to come in and he did. As I moved around him to close the door I noticed he smelled more like deodorant than cigarettes. He was also holding a plastic bag.

“I'm sorry for just stopping by. We never exchanged numbers.”

“That's okay. It's the same number I had in high school, though. But, I guess you probably don't still have it in your phone.”

He shook his head. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not unless you count me sitting on my ass in my pajamas watching Shark Tank as a bad time.”

With a small smile, Jon said “You didn't used to like football.”

I glanced down at my shirt, then shrugged “I watch a few games here and there. Do you want to sit?” I crossed the room and picked up the remote where I had dropped it and flicked off the television. Missandei and I didn't have much in the way of furniture. Just a deep green sofa, IKEA coffee table and our 34 inch TV that rested on a solid wood bookshelf turned on it's side. Missandei stored her vinyls between the vertical slats. Most of our things sat in piles on the floor. Stacks of books, stacks of blankets, stacks of towels. Our living room almost always looked like we were preparing for a yard sale.

Sitting together on the couch, Jon set his plastic bag in the space left between us.

“Don't you have work tonight?” I asked.

“I actually got off earlier today. Switched shifts with someone. I wanted to give this to you. I know it's lame, but I thought I should see if you wanted it back.”

With a hesitant smile, I put my hand in the bag and removed from it something soft and familiar. Though somewhat faded from lots of wearing and washing, it looked as good as I remembered and smelled even better, because it smelled like Jon. A crimson sweatshirt with HARVARD printed across the chest. I smiled down at it as wide as I did the first time Jon gave it to me.

“You kept it?” I asked.

“Ever since the day you threw it at my head and told me to eat shit and die.”

As he smiled, I frowned. “Did I really say that?”

“It was the last thing you ever said to me actually.”

I hadn't forgotten, but I had hoped Jon had. Looking down at the big white letters, I said “I wore this thing everyday when I wasn't at school or work, you know.”

“I know.”

“I kept wearing it even after Harvard rejected me. I had this idea that I would wear it on my first day at Caltech. It was going to be hilarious and I would have made absolutely no friends.”

“I know.”

Scooting to the edge of the sofa, I straightened my back and pulled the sweatshirt on over my head and down my body. The end of my t-shirt stuck out the bottom awkwardly, but it fit.

When Missandei came out again, all dolled up and ready for her date, she eyed the word across my chest and said “I thought you went to Caltech.”

“Harvard looks better on her,” Jon answered for me and the peculiar complement made me blush nonetheless.

“Alright,” said Missandei, giving me another one of those suspicious looks that meant have fun but be careful. I had never told my roommate about Jon, even though she was the closest thing to a best friend I've had since Jon. It was sad to think of how little she really knew about me, and that it was completely my fault. Once, while we were both tipsy off cheap gin, I told her about my pregnancy as a test, seeing how far I could open up to another human being before I'd start to panic, but that was as far as it went. She asked if I'd had an abortion and I answered by pouring myself another drink and changing the subject to workplace gossip. Once again, Jon knew more about me than anyone else in my life.

I gave awkward introductions – “Missi, this is Jon. Jon, this is Missi.” –  and she was out the door a minute later, saying she may not be home until morning.

Alone with Jon now, my apartment never seemed so quiet. To quickly break the tension, I asked him once more about his face.

“Your scars. What happened?” I asked.

“It's kind of a long story.”

“Well, Missi did say she may not be back til tomorrow.”

That got him to smile a bit before going into it. “I guess it really isn't that long of a story. I served for four years, came back and didn't know what the hell to do with myself, so I reenlisted. Eight months into my tour there was an ambush and --” He finished the story by holding up his fist and popping out his fingers as he made a dull explosion sound with his mouth. “A month in a hospital later and I was discharged.”

I could tell there was a lot more to the story by the way Jon's soft eyes squinted and his body relax in a defeated sort of way against the back of the couch. I could feel him shutting down, just enough to keep the memories from taking over his mind. This look wasn't unfamiliar to me. He had the same sort of look whenever he spoke about his mother. It was the same look he had the day he brought me to the neighborhood he grew up in.

* * * * *

When Jon turned eighteen, it was a Saturday. I would have taken the day off to be with him, but he told me his family had planned a whole day of “fun” for him and that I should take Sunday off instead. I thought that I should have planned something for him as well, but it seemed like he already had something in mind. He picked me up Sunday morning in front of the Seven-Eleven and drove about ten miles South until we were in a neighborhood that made mine look like Pleasantville.  

“This is where you wanted to go for your birthday?” I asked as he parallel parked next to a boarded up, dilapidated apartment building.

“I don't really care about my birthday. I just wanted to take you here, and since you took the day off. . .”

“You wanted to take me here?”

After he got out of the car, he went around and opened the passenger door for me, like it was a real date. It was an unusually chilly morning for April and I kept my hands inside the front pouch of my Harvard sweatshirt. Jon put his arm around my shoulders and pointed up to the third floor of the crusty brick building.

“You see that window, the one on the far left side, third floor?”

“Yeah.”

“That's where my mom died. Inside that room.”

Moving my eyes from the boarded window to Jon's profile, I tried to read his expression, but it was one I couldn't dissect. He didn't look especially sad, though he certainly didn't look happy. His features were soft and unaffected, but his lips were pursed like he was contemplating something, a message written on the wall that only he could see.

We hadn't discussed Jon's mother much. All I knew about her was the probably-false rumors our classmates would mumble to each other when I was within earshot. I never pressed Jon for the truth because it would have been hypocritical of me, since I never wanted to talk about my family either.

“How did she die?” I asked gently, trying to make the question come off in a way that Jon would know he didn't have to answer.

Jon took a few easy breaths and rubbed my arm where his hand rested. It gave Jon comfort to give me comfort. “Drugs. But, I'm sure you already knew about that.”

“I didn't know if it was true or not.”

“Unfortunately, a lot of what people say at school is true. The rest, well, I don't even know enough about my life to dispute the rest. She wasn't always a junkie, though. She was actually a really great mom for a long time, but she always had this very intense, penetrative sadness that seemed to consume her little by little each day. Living where we lived didn't help. Everyone was on something and by the time I reached middle school, she was as good as gone. The rest was just watching and waiting until one day she never came home. She'd gone missing before, but only for a few days at a time. After two weeks, I just assumed she died. When the cops showed up at the front door and told me what they'd found when they raided this building, I couldn't even cry, because I'd already accepted it.”

“I'm sorry, Jon.”

He shook his head and looked at me. “I just wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to see who I am.”

“That's not who you are, though. That's who your mom was. You're not her.”

“Sometimes I feel like a traitor. I'm basically being taken care of by Ned Stark, but when my mom needed help, he wasn't there. But, I actually like Ned. He's almost always working, but when he's not, he's a really nice person – annoyingly nice sometimes. I don't understand what sort of dispute he could have had with my mom before I was born to make them hate each other so much. I tried asking a little while ago, but he's even less comfortable talking about my mom than I am.”

I took my hands out of my sweatshirt and hugged Jon against me. “You're not a traitor. Some families are just too fucked up to ever understand.”

Hugging me back, he laid his cheek against the side of my head and said “One day, I want to have a totally un-fucked up family.”

“Me too,” I replied.

That was when Jon told me he loved me for the first time, but he told me as a question. “Do you already know that I love you?”

I lifted my head and answered “I had a feeling. You already know that I love you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. You're not very subtle.”

I smiled, but it was hard to be happy in a place like that. A car alarm went off in the near distance and a cat fight had broken out in front of a rotting cottage across the street. The sound of rickety shopping cart wheels grew ever louder as a homeless man limped down the street in our direction.

“Where did you live?” I asked. It couldn't possibly have been here.

Thankfully, we got back into the Mazda, but we didn't travel far. Jon turned onto the highway, drove North a couple blocks, then pulled into the parking lot of a laundromat. I followed suit when Jon exited the car once again, and I followed him across the parking lot until we stood on the sidewalk facing the highway. Sunday traffic was light, but still noisy, so when Jon spoke I had to stand almost against him to hear.

“Across the street,” He pointed in front of us, to a huge building, right up against the highway, tall and beige and rowed with small plaster balconies, clothes and towels draped over the edge of half of them. On the bottom floor, graffiti decorated the chipped paint and the windows were all barred. While it was certainly a step up from the abandoned drug-den Jon had just shown me, the building was depressing at best.

“We lived someplace nicer when I was young,” Jon continued. “I mean, it still wasn't a great area, but it was a little house with a front yard and there were kids my age who I could play with. We moved here when I was nine, after my mom lost her secretary job.”

I took his hand in mine and squeezed. “A few foster families I stayed with lived in buildings a lot like this one, but I never stayed long.”

“It's weird that we met where we did. In some fancy douche-bag school. I guess I'm just lucky you're freaky smart and my uncle is freaky rich.” His eyes were still on the building, his palm damp against mine. “I'm not going to say I'm lucky my mom died when she did, but at least something good came out of it.”

“Hey.” I gave his arm a gentle tug to get him to look at me. I had no idea how to respond to that, so instead, I said “Let's go someplace happy, alright? For your birthday.”

“Yeah.” Finally, the corners of his mouth lifted. “Can we go to your apartment?”

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and nodded. That was exactly what I had in mind.

* * * * *

Slowly, I raised a finger to where the longest scar started on his forehead and felt the slight crease of skin. Incredulously, I asked “You spent a month in the hospital for these?”

Heaving a drawn out sigh, Jon began unbuttoning his shirt. My pulse raced, but any excitement I felt for getting to see Jon's body again was quickly replaced by anxious fear. I couldn't prevent my gasp, and I felt tears prickle at my eyelids as soon as my eyes beheld the long, jagged scars that covered Jon's torso, one of which being right where I had placed my hand in the middle of his chest on the pier, right over his heart.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, unable to look away. I had to cover my eyes with the palm of my hand when I felt about ready to throw up. “I shouldn't have let you go,” I whimpered. “I knew something bad was going to happen. I knew you were going to get hurt.”

“You knew you couldn't stop me. And I'm fine now.”

After a hard swallow, I let my hand drop, taking in the sight again with a bit more composure. “Does it hurt?” I asked, reaching out tentatively and touching the discolored scar running down the center of his chest with my fingertips.

“Not anymore.”

“You almost died, didn't you?”

His hand raised to my face and I felt his thumb stroking the water that had spilled from my eyes. “Don't cry,” he whispered, leaning toward me. “I'm not dead.”

Slowly, but without caution, I leaned forward to rest my cheek against his. His arms went around my waist and mine draped around his shoulders. We remained like that for a short time and when I leaned back ever so slightly, I turned my head, my nose grazing against his cheekbone. I took his face in my hands and tilted his head down so that I could press my lips to the top of his most prominent facial scar, kissing my way down the permanent blemish until it stopped at the hollow of his cheek. All it took was a shift of my head a couple inches and my mouth was over his, and when I puckered my lips, they just barely touched his. Each kiss was just a little bit firmer, a little bit longer, and soon Jon was kissing me back, letting me taste his tobacco and winterfresh breath, and his warm tongue.

* * * * *

I had made Jon wait in the hallway outside my apartment door for a couple minutes while I straightened up. It was a tiny place and I wasn't exactly a tidy person. Once all the dishes were in the sink, garbage in the garbage can, dirty clothes in the hamper, and clean clothes tossed in the closet, I gave Jon the green light to come in.

It wasn't the first time Jon had been over, but it was nerve wracking all the same to watch his eyes scan my single room apartment like he was trying to spot something that wasn't there before. There was never really much to see, though, besides clutter. Just a kitchenette, a Salvation Army desk and my bed, which was just a mattress and box spring sitting on the floor under the only window in the whole apartment. There was a door next to the refrigerator that led to a small bathroom and a sliding door by my bed that was a long, narrow closet stuffed with old school stuff and cheap clothes. I never liked buying furniture because I never liked moving it, so when I did buy things for the apartment it was usually funky blankets and pillows and water cups with TV characters on them. I hung Christmas lights across two adjacent walls but rarely plugged them in, worrying it might be a fire hazard. There was no television, but I did have a laptop that I kept locked in my desk in case of a break in.

Jon took his fake-leather jacket off and draped it over my desk chair. “I like the dinosaur pillows.”

I turned to my bed, cheeks going pink as I realized I had made my bed the other day with cartoon dinosaur sheets I'd bought on sale in the children's section at Target. It probably looked even stranger that along with them, I was using a thick Christmas themed throw blanket as a comforter.

“So, I have a question,” he continued. “You're still seventeen, right? So how come you're living on your own and not in some shitty foster home?”

“It's a long story,” I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. Because there wasn't a frame, the height was about the same as a regular couch. “The short version is that my brother adopted me when he turned twenty-one, but that turned out to be a complete nightmare, so I got emancipated when I was fifteen, around the time I started at Westeros Prep. I had been working since I was fourteen so I could already support myself enough to afford this lavish life of luxury you see here.”

With some hesitancy, Jon replied “I thought your brother died.”

“My oldest brother killed himself less than a year before I was born. I have another brother, though, who is about seven years older than me. I haven't seen him in a couple years. He must have gotten all of my father's genes, because he's not a very good person. I still love him, though, but if I never have to see him again, I think I'd be okay with that.”

Jon nodded slowly, crossing the few feet between my desk and my bed to sit beside me. “Fucked up families,” he said.

“Exactly.”

For a bit, we sat in silence, save for the soft hum of the traffic outside, until Jon broke it.

“What do you want to do?”

Nervously, I shrugged, a lie because I knew exactly what I wanted to do. It was the same thing we'd almost done the last time Jon was over, and the same thing I fantasized about most nights as I tried to fall asleep.

“Are you too warm in that?” he asked.

I glanced down at my sweatshirt and nodded, then pulled the thing off. The tank top I wore underneath rode up to just under my bra as I did so, so I tugged it back down over my hips quickly. Jon raised a hand to the back of my head and I felt his fingers rake through where my loose hair had become tangled. When I toed off my shoes, Jon followed suit and removed his Converse. While his eyes were on his feet, I took a chance and pulled off my tank top, and before Jon's eyes found me again, I was already shedding my bra.

“We don't have to,” he said, because that was the sort of thing nice guys said, and while I was glad for that, what I really wanted was to feel his hands on my naked tits and his mouth kissing me all over.

It sounds silly, but the fact that Jon had turned eighteen and I was still seventeen made me even more excited. I always enjoyed those sorts of benign rebellions because it was all I could ever afford myself. I felt this way behind the basketball gym sometimes when Jon and I would spend the entire period making out. As soon as the bell would ring, I would pull back just slightly and say “We need to get to class” and Jon would reply “Fuck class. Kiss me,” and I would kiss him for another two minutes before we'd run to Chemistry and get there just as the bell was ringing again. Little things like that made me feel dangerous and like my life was more interesting than it really was.

Jon had a condom in his wallet “just in case” and when we were both naked I watched him slide it onto himself, chewing on my fingernails until he was finished. I was a virgin and he wasn't, but I liked that it wouldn't be his first time. I needed him to be less nervous than I was.

Lying back on one of my dinosaur print pillows, I parted my legs enough for Jon to situate himself between them. When he leaned over me, I flinched a bit, thinking he was going to put his penis in me right then, but he didn't. He pushed some strands of hair from my face and asked “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered and pushed some of his curls behind his ear.

“Just kiss me, alright? And don't stop.”

That sounded easy. I'd had a lot of practice kissing Jon over the last few of months. When he closed the gap between our mouths, I kissed him the way I thought lovers kissed and tried not to focus on Jon's hand as it trailed between our bodies and touched me where no one else had ever touched me before. My hips jerked slightly and I moaned into his mouth which just made him kiss me better.

A second after his hand left me, I felt something else replace it, but instead of freaking out, I just did what he said and kept on kissing him. I had my hand behind his head, keeping him with me just in case.

I knew that it would hurt. Everyone always says the first time hurts, but the pain went away a lot sooner than I thought it would. I wondered if having used tampons for years had helped, but quickly turned my mind onto something other than periods, like the fact that Jon Snow, my boyfriend, who I loved so deeply, was in my bed, having sex with me.

Afterward, we got Icee's and pizza from downstairs and watched Lost on my laptop, pausing it every few minutes to make out a little bit. “Best birthday ever,” Jon had murmured between kisses.

* * * * *

“Daenerys,” Jon breathed against my mouth and I wanted to roll myself up and live between his lips like one of his cigarettes. But then he said “Maybe I should leave.”

I leaned back a bit, understanding but also not understanding at all, because he had kissed me back, his hand had slid from my waist to my thigh and his dark eyes were full of hunger.

“Can't you just kiss me for a little?” I asked, running my hand across his cheek and feeling his short beard tickle my palm.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he purred. “I don't know if I can just kiss you.”

I recaptured his mouth, trapping his bottom lip between mine. The kisses intensified quickly. I didn't think I'd ever kissed Jon like this. These were needy, ravenous kisses. Live-in-the-moment kisses, because in the next moment, everything could be different. Forget-about-the-future kisses. There was only right now.

I swung a leg over his lap and his hands went to my ass before sliding up and under my shirt, uncomfortably stretching all the fabric that kept my body hidden. His fingers unhooked my bra so that his palms could caress the length of my back uninterrupted. Maybe that was as far as Jon wanted to go, but I took a chance away, leaned back on his lap and peeled off my shirt and sweatshirt, all in one, albeit awkward, motion. Then I took a breath, watching Jon's dark eyes watch my chest as I slowly slid my bra down my arms before dropping it onto the floor.

From my back, Jon's hands trailed around until they were feeling the curve of my tits, not much different, I hoped, from the last time he'd held them. His calloused fingers against my nipples made me bite my bottom lip and I was suddenly feeling breathless. When Jon leaned forward, I tilted my head up and then his mouth was on my neck, pressing wet kisses that made my toes curl. Arousal boiled between my legs and I began to move my hips just enough to feel how much he wanted me too. As soon as my crotch brushed his, he hummed against my neck and slid his hands back down to my ass, pulling me firmly against him.

“I need you,” I breathed, my eyes closed, focusing on his body against mine. “I need you inside me.”

But a moment later, he was leaning away from me, resting against the back of the couch and parting his hands from my yearning body to rub his eyes, as if he thought this was some kind of dream. I could see the wheels turning in his head and suddenly felt lost. If he was mulling this over, then I knew how it would end.

“This is why you were afraid to talk to me,” I said solemnly, fingers fiddling with the bottom hem of his flannel shirt. “You knew this would happen. You knew I still wanted you.”

His hands dropped to my thighs, rubbing them like he would do to my arm to comfort me, to comfort himself. I didn't feel comforted, though. I could tell he was trying to focus on my eyes and not the fact that I was half naked and on top of him, ready for the taking. “I knew that I still wanted you,” he whispered. “I just have to think first.”

“You've had all this time to think, Jon, and it lead you here. I didn't ask you to come over tonight. But you're here now, so stay.” I was pleading now and I hated it, but I was afraid that if he left I wouldn't ever see him again and I couldn't go through that twice.

Eyes trailing down my body, I could see them flicker as one part of him tried desperately to convince all the other parts to give up on me. His hands began to tremble as they slid up to my hips, and then he was moving me off of him. Standing, he kept his back to me while he adjusted the way his jeans pressed against his erection. I didn't try to speak. I had already said all I could think of.

“I just need to think,” he said again while pulling a pack of Marlboros from his pocket.

He didn't walk away, though. He remained standing in front of the couch, fingers sliding a cigarette into his mouth and I just watched him do it, content to let him smoke in my apartment if it meant he wouldn't leave. Jon would never do that, though. His hand never even reached for a lighter.

After a minute, I stood, cautious and quiet. I picked up my t-shirt and held it to my chest, covering myself without putting it on, then moved around to Jon's front. I didn't try to touch him, but I stood close. His eyes stared at the wall behind my head, still mulling.

And then something changed. His eyes squeezed shut and he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, tucking it behind his ear. A hand covered his eyes as he inhaled sharply through his nose. I wanted to hold him but still thought it best to give him space. The next time I saw his eyes, they were pink and his eyelids twitched like he was trying not to cry.

“Okay,” he said finally, then paused again to take a series of long breaths. “You were right. You were right all those years ago when you told me that it didn't matter and that it didn't change what we had, because I never got over you, I never stopped loving you and I never stopped wanting you. I guess that's obvious. Every day since you told me to eat shit and die, I have missed you. You're still the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I would give you every single piece of me if you wanted it.” I could hear his throat swallow hard. “But, I don't want anyone to ever look down on you, or us. . . Fuck. This is hard for me. I want this so bad, but it's hard for me to accept that there's this thing between us. I wanted us to be perfect. I thought that we were perfect.”

The t-shirt was growing damp where my hands clutched the fabric. I was sweating again. Jon was too. Small beads of moisture percolated at his hairline.

Shaking my head, I whispered “I don't need perfect. I never did.” I stared at his chest. With him standing, the scars looked almost like rips in his flesh, like something trying to cut it's way out of him. “I'm sorry I pushed you. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. Please don't leave, though. We could just hang out. Even after all these years, I still think of you as my best friend. More than anything else, you were my best friend.”

My eyes caught Jon's green Converse stepping closer to me. I could feel the heat coming off of his body and when he laid his palm on my jaw, I thought the skin might melt off my face.

“You're my best friend, too. And don't apologize. You didn't make me uncomfortable. I did. I've got Robb Stark's fucking voice in my head.”

He had said the last bit with a breathy chuckle and I finally picked my head up to face him.

“I'm not going to listen to it anymore,” he added. “He doesn't know what this is like.”

Hopefully, I suggested “We could just get dinner and watch TV. We never did finish Lost. Well, I finished it without you, but we could start over. Get some Chinese food and just. . . start over.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Let's do that. But, let's do this first, alright?”

A second later, his mouth was over mine, kissing my upper lip and I was quick to capture his bottom lip, sucking gently. As soon as his arms were around my waist, I wrapped mine around his neck, dropping my t-shirt to the floor without a care. He held me close and lifted me to his height, my pointed toes leaving the carpet. My eyes were shut, focusing on kissing him, relishing in the tickle of his short beard against my nose and the smoking taste of his warm tongue. When his hand hooked under my butt, I wrapped my legs around him and moved my hips against his abdomen, longing for just an ounce of pressure between my thighs. My mind could hardly register that Jon had turned us around until I was suddenly horizontal, my back landing on my plush sofa cushions, and Jon was on top of me, having never broken our kiss.

I was being consumed by hot breath and salty skin, and flexing muscles, like the one pulsing against my desperate pussy. My hands were quick to slide between our bodies, connecting with Jon's belt. The buckle landed harshly against my pelvis once I had it unfastened. Jon sat up on my knees between my legs and pulled the leather strap from the loops around his jeans and dropped it to the floor.

“There are condoms under the sick in the bathroom,” I said through shallow gasps.

Meeting my eyes, Jon nodded, then leaped up and went to find my bathroom. After a deep breath, I lifted my knees to my chest and pulled off my yoga pants and underwear. Jon was back before they hit the floor and I immediately broke out in a fit of laughter because he had brought the entire Costco sized box with him. He started to chuckle as well, but was too mesmerized by the sight of me.

Moving slower now, Jon set the box down on the floor and started on his shoes, eyes never leaving me. I thought he would undress for me, but he didn't. Once his shoes were off, he climbed back between my legs and leaned down, kissing me firm on the mouth before moving down to my neck, nibbling the skin and licking my throat. My eyes closed and my fingers wove into his hair as I felt wet kisses trail from my collarbone to my chest to my nipple – I gasped, his teeth grazing the hard nub before sweeping it with his tongue. And then he went lower, to my navel, then even lower. His arm hooked under my knee and lifted it up higher, over his shoulder, and then his lips were on my pussy, kissing me, teasing me, tasting how aroused I had become. I tilted my head back against the sofa cushion and groaned, overtaken by the sensual sound of wetness meeting wetness as he licked me.

After Jon found my clit I knew it wouldn't take long for me to cum. My pussy had sucked his two fingers into it's depth like they belonged there and my muscles clenched them tight as he persistently sucked my clit between his lips and did something with his tongue that made me whimper curse words through clenched teeth, moving my hips against his mouth. My orgasm seemed to last forever though it was probably only about ten seconds. I begged him not to stop, and he didn't, but eventually it was too much and I had to push his head away.

I was left panting, chest heaving. Jon had sat up and I closed my legs, my thighs pressed tightly together. Slowly, he removed his fingers from inside me and rested his sticky hand on my knee, squeezing it gently. When I was calm, I looked at him and blushed, realizing it was the most relaxed I'd felt in a long time.

“Hi,” I breathed, like my mind had been wiped clean and I was meeting him for the first time, naked and trembling.

“Hi,” he replied, then gently pulled my legs straight, to rest across his own.

Jon rubbed my calves and feet and after a couple minutes, I thought I could fall asleep like that, but then I remembered the box of condoms and suddenly felt a pulse between my thighs. It had been so long since someone else had given me an orgasm that I'd forgotten just how much I loved it, but an orgasm wasn't all that I wanted.

Twisting on my side, I reached down to the floor and retrieved a condom from the box before sitting up. I moved to straddle Jon's lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of him. I could smell myself on his face when I leaned close. I kissed him, open-mouthed, connecting our tongues and I could taste myself too among his usual Jon taste. Even better.

While we made out like we used to, but better, I felt Jon's hands between us and his hips raising against me. He leaned forward to finish pushing his jeans and boxers off his legs, but I moved with him the whole time, never breaking our kiss. His erection was against me now, flesh on flesh. Jon leaned back against the couch and I lowered my pussy to let it rest atop the underside of his pulsing cock. He moaned into my mouth, his hands squeezing my ass while I moved my hips just enough to get him slick with my cum.

I'll admit, I wanted to let him slide into me right then, but I handed the condom to him and watched him put it on himself. Once ready, I gripped Jon's shoulders and lowered myself onto him, trying to keep my breathing even while he filled me.

“Oh my God,” I groaned once I had him all the way inside. His forehead was against mine, his hands back on my ass and I simply stayed there, sitting on his lap with him buried inside me, shifting ever so slightly here and there, getting reacquainted to the feel of him.

After half a minute, I lifted up a couple inches, then lowered back down. This simple move made Jon groan and squeeze my flesh.

“Just to warn you,” he sighed, “I'm not going to last very long.”

I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, and through a breathy laugh, I said “I'm good with that,” then rolled my hips to elicit some more of Jon's soft throaty sounds.

We did end up getting Chinese food, and we also watched Lost, but only the first episode before retreating into my bedroom. Into my bed, to be specific, but we wouldn't need the condoms. We just laid together underneath mismatched sheets and blankets, making each other warm in my drafty bedroom. Then we just slept. We slept for a long time. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so long, and not once had Jon gotten up to smoke.

In fact, he was still asleep on his back when I dragged myself out of bed to use the bathroom. It was the late morning and I heard Missandei come in the front door while I was brushing my teeth. I grabbed a brush from the counter and started working on the tangles in my hair while I walked out to greet my roommate.

She was sitting up on the kitchen counter, eating Greek yogurt with her finger, wearing the clothes she left in last night and looking as though she had hardly slept a wink.

“Fun date?” I asked, trying to keep my tone cool and casual.

With a tired smirk, Missandei nodded, then sucked some more yogurt off her index finger. “I should ask you the same thing. You finally get on Tinder or something?”

I shook my head, bringing my own finger to my mouth to nibble on a nail. “No, Jon and I have known each other since high school,” I replied. Maybe it was time for another test. “We actually dated in high school.”

Back straightening, Missandei gazed wild, intrigued eyes at me. “You had sex with an ex-boyfriend? That is some drama, Dany,” she said in an excited whisper. For a moment I felt flushed, wondering how she'd known we had sex, but then I realized we'd left the box of condoms sitting on the living room floor.  

“You have no idea. But. . . I'm choosing to be optimistic.” I smiled a true smile, something Missandei rarely saw from me.

With a sly grin, Missandei hopped off the counter, tossed her yogurt cup in the trash, then pulled me into a tight embrace. This was also a rare occurrence so my arms were more tentative as they wrapped around her.

When she let go, she swayed off in the direction of her bedroom, asking me to wake her up for work in four hours. That reminded me that Jon had work at two o'clock, so I slipped back into my room to lay with him some more before he would have to leave. And I would watch him leave, happily, finally knowing for sure that it wouldn't be for good.

[withlovejulien]

Tiny Living is a stuff pack for The Sims 4 available for purchase on January 21, 2020 for PC and Mac and February 4, 2020 for consoles. I was provided with media pre-release access to the pack as part of the EA Game Changers program. Thanks, EA, for making this content possible.

One of the changes I really love that came about in preparation for this pack was actually added to the base game and is available to everyone–now decor items with books have the functionality of bookcases. This isn’t just great for tiny builds, it’s also easy on the budget.

The Build/Buy Items:

Style-wise, the items in the pack are boxy, evoke enamel and/or melamine finishes, and can blend with Swedish style furnishings (IKEA’s plywood and veneer construction) and mid-century modern and seem to complement the styles from the Bowling Night stuff pack, Get Famous expansion pack, and Discover University with a more modern style. The Gurus called it hygge (pronounced like “hoogah”) style–and explained it is a Danish word which can mean cozy and warm.

The shapes of the upholstered chair and love seat are curvaceous with angled, peg legs most evocative of the Bowling Night soft furnishings. The case furnishings are square with a plywood look and can have veneer/wood or enamel/melamine inserts, like Get Famous, Bowling Night, and Discover University. The textures of the items

For build/buy, there are 34 items including two types of Murphy beds (one with a love seat, one without), a single bed, a bathroom sink and toilet, a picture with various images depending on the swatch, a stool, a dining chair, a living room chair, a love seat, three side tables (including the knit ottoman which only acts as a surface, not a chair), a coffee table, a desk, a counter-height glass table, a rug with a diamond pattern, a table lamp, a floor lamp, a ceiling lamp with three different lengths, three wall decor items (kitchen shelves, bathroom shelves, and plants for the wall), a tray with lit candles, a table top decor of books which also functions as a bookshelf, a bookcase which can snap to the sides of the Murphy beds to create a wider object, and two dressers.

Most of the items have a white and black swatch, including the wood color, making it easy to blend with other pack items, add to any color room, or create a white or black space. There are three natural wood tones: a light yellowish natural color like maple, an orange color like a natural cherry, and a dark brown which is an accent color to the light wood (none of the pieces are only dark brown).

If you are into exactly matching wood tones, I will warn you the wood matches very little from the base game. Personally, I like to coordinate tones more than match. Here’s the info for how they might match. The orange wood tone most closely matches the Mega mission-style objects. The dark wood is also close to a swatch available for the Mega mission-style furniture and French country furniture. The light wood tone works with the Anglette desk and coordinating bookshelf and Moon-Gazing chair and Shadow of the Moon table added in an update.

Mega Mission-style Furniture Wood Swatches Compared to Tiny Living Furniture Wood Swatches

French Country Style Furniture Wood Swatches Compared to Tiny Living Furniture Wood Swatches

Base Game Contemporary Furniture Wood Swatches Compared to Tiny Living Furniture Wood Swatches

Anglette Desk Wood Swatches Compared to Tiny Living Furniture Wood Swatches

The orange wood tone matches some of the swatches from the following packs: My First Pet Stuff, Parenthood, Bowling Night, Get Famous, Spa Day, Get Together, and Seasons. The other packs with similar light wood tones include Get Famous, Realm of Magic, Bowling Night, My First Pet Stuff, Spa Day, Vampires, Parenthood, Island Living. None of the wood tones match the modern furniture from Discover University though the light wood tone matches a swatch available on the more traditionally styled furniture.

My First Pet Stuff compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Spa Day compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Vampires compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Realm of Magic compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Seasons compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Island Living compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Cats and Dogs compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

City Living compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Get Famous compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Bowling Night compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Discover University compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Get Together compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Parenthood compared to Tiny Living Wood Swatches

Along with wood tones, the items include multiple color swatches. The color combinations include: cyan and yellow, yellow and dark, greenish blue (not the navy blue used in base game or other packs), cyan and orange, orange and purple (a dusty hue of purple which matches the purple used in Seasons), a warm red, think brick, and grey, orange and green. It’s a pleasure to see limited wood tones because it’s easier to use the swatches with each other and all of the items have swatches for the various colors.

The Game Play:

The Tiny Living pack comes with a game play mechanic that provides benefits for living in a tiny home which is triggered when you choose to change you lot type to a tiny home. Once you have selected the Tiny Home lot type, you can select the blocks icon next to the home icon to get more information about the build. There are three tiers of benefits depending on the house size from 100 to 64 to 32 tiles. The tiles are counted by whether they are a floor (basically, if they have, or would have if they were on the ground level, a foundation). Look under the tool bar to see how many tiles have been used (circled in red below).

Benefits:

The most benefit is at Tier 3, only 32 tiles. Bills are less, skills increase twice as fast, relationships increase faster, gardening is accelerated, items are more comfortable, and positive emotions last longer.

Here are some examples of a 32 tile lay out:

32 tile house for Tier 3 home in Tiny Living. A typical layout with all of the living space enclosed in rooms.

A 32 tile modern home with some sneaky space.

The room with the dining table is just a glass roof without a floor–the floor texture is applied directly to the ground (saw Zylria use this idea for a living room area). The patio is also texture directly on the ground.

A 32 tile cabin. Look bigger than 32 tiles? It actually is but the extra space isn’t counted.

This entire second floor does not count because it is technically not a room with a floor. It is individual walls built over the ceiling.

The patio and porch also do not count toward the 32 tile limit.

Space Saving Furniture:

TV/Radio/Bookshelf:

I was in love with the all-in-one wall unit bookcase-radio-TV and how little space it took up even though it cost 2,260 simoleons–until I realized the cost was far more than the items purchased separately and the fun was a one. Watching TV (the cheapest of which, apart from Tiny Living, has a fun of four) became just as inefficient at raising the fun bar as listening to a cheap radio. If you want to use the TV to raise fun, you are better off, and will spend less, buying all of the items separately. You can purchase a radio and a bookshelf that use wall space so the only surface area needed is for the TV and it will have a fun of 5 for the TV and only cost 875 simoleons, saving 1,385. Of course, it won’t look as sleek.

If you can find more surface area, you will save 1,775 simoleons by purchasing the cheapest of each type available in base game for only 485 simoleons and do better for fun while watching TV, a four instead of a one. Remember, book decor items now work as book shelves.

The Murphy Bed:

The Murphy bed is an interesting addition to the game regularly requested by some Simmers. You still need to have just as much floor space available as for a regular bed, including all of the space to walk around it (if you want to access both sides). It costs 2,100 simoleons. The original bed has an energy of one and breaks every time my Sim sleeps in it. With a single bed with an energy of 4 in the same lot, I had to force my Sim to use the Murphy bed since Sims will automatically sleep in the better bed.

With the included love seat and added game play around the Murphy bed, even though the energy is low, it offers something the other beds at the same price cannot: injury and death! I think this is a fairly reliable way to get your Sim killed in the game–which I expect will be a welcome and entertaining way to off your Sims and add some randomness, meaningful consequences, and finality for some players.

When the bed breaks, it can pound your Sim to the floor when trying to lower it, or swallow them up by folding up with the Sim still in it if the Sim is sleeping. Once that happens, your Sim will be scarred for a while!

New Death:

Trying to lower the Murphy bed while it is broken makes the chance to meet a violent end more likely though even when it is fixed there is a small chance for death.

Ghosts from the Murphy bed death have a new power: possess to drain energy. This is a necessary power for the ghosts since they are so traumatized by their violent death by bed that they develop a phobia to sleeping in beds.

New interaction: Possess to Drain Energy

Yikes!

Evil laugh

Like vampire drinking plasma

  Upgrading Beds:

Once my Sim reached a handiness of eight, which didn’t take too long with the 2x skill bonus and the amount of the times I had to repair the Murphy bed, I was able to perform an upgrade to increase the energy gained while sleeping and it was much quicker. Upgrading beds is now available for all beds in the game except for toddler beds. You can also upgrade the Murphy bed to reduce how frequently it breaks.

Tiny Living Benefits:

The benefits to keeping the home at the Tier 3 level are strong. The increase in skill gain and relationship gain is very noticeable. 32 tiles is larger than the 25 squares allowed for the Tiny Living Challenge. Fitting in items for more than two Sims is difficult. I took most of the these game play images in a 32 tile starter home which sleeps three and I often considered what I could have replaced the single bed with. Skill items can be kept outdoors in a “fake” room made with floor texture directly on the ground and walls drawn in place so they don’t create a full room with  a roof.

*some images have been edited to convey additional information and are not standard screen shots.

Tiny Living Sims 4 Stuff Pack Review–Build/Buy and Game Play Tiny Living is a stuff pack for The Sims 4 available for purchase on January 21, 2020 for PC and Mac and February 4, 2020 for consoles.

[hard-satin]

Restraint (2.07)

Masterlist

Noah asked the three of us to wait in his office while he talked with Jackson and his father. My phone rang not a minute later. It was Allison. Lydia had translated the pages on the Kanima. Turns out, the Kanima seeks a master not a friend.

“If Jackson doesn’t know what he’s doing, then he probably doesn’t know that someone’s controlling him.” Allison said.

“Or he doesn’t remember.” Scott added.

“What if it’s the same kind of thing that happened to Lydia when she took off from the hospital?” Stiles asked leaning over the phone. I stood in the doorway. As much as I wanted to help right now, I couldn’t get the look Noah gave me out of my head. He was so disappointed. He did everything for me and I let him down.

I stopped listening to everything around me. I didn’t even pay attention when Noah dragged us into an interrogation room to read us the terms of our new restraining order Jackson had filed against us. I couldn’t look Noah in the eye when he dragged Stiles and I into the hallway.

“Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they’re not pressing charges?” Noah asked us.

“Oh come on Dad it was a joke.” Stiles said.

“It was a joke?” Noah asked.

“Yes! We didn’t think it would be taken that seriously.” Stiles told him.

“Dad humor is very subjective. I mean we’re talking multiple levels of interpretation here.” Stiles tried to defend us.

“How do you explain the stolen prison transport van?” Noah asked crossing his arms.

“We filled the tank.” Stiles pointed out.

“Jamie go wait in the car.” Noah told me. NOrmally I wouldn’t let myself be dismissed so easily but alone in the Jeep is exactly where I wanted to be right now. I left without a word, my head down the whole way.

-

I was lying out on the hood of the Jeep staring at the stars when Stiles finally came outside.

“Hey! What are you doing on my Jeep?” Stiles yelled at me as he ran over. He paused when he noticed the tears running down my face.

“Are you okay?” He asked. I shook my head. He pulled me off the Jeep and into his arms.

“We’re going to figure all this out.” Stiles told me. I shook my head against his chest pulling back.

“It’s not that. I let him down. I let your dad down.” I said as fresh tears spilled from my eyes.

“If it’s any consolation, I do it all the time.” Stiles told me trying to make me feel better.

“He’s always been there for me protecting me the best he could. All the sleepovers. Watching me every weekend when we were little. Taking me in after what happened to my mom. Giving me a safe place to go for years.” I started rambling.

“Jamie? What are you talking about?” Stiles asked taking my face in his hands and tilting it up so he could search my eyes, as if they held all the answers.

“Your dad couldn’t prove I was being abused but he could keep me out of my house as often as he possibly could. He’s been their for me my entire life and now I’ve let him down.” I told him. Stiles pulled me to him again rocking me back and forth.

“He’s going to forgive you.” Stiles whispered into my hair.

“How do you know?” I asked him.

“He always forgives me.” Stiles pulled back and smiled down at me. He brushed my tears away with the pads of his thumbs before pulling me forward and kissing the top of my head. He pulled away completely and ran around to the passenger door, pulling it open for me. I hopped in ready to go home.

-

The next day, Stiles, Scott and I met Allison at the library. We collected on one side of the book shelf, while Allison stood on the other side. We couldn’t have the cameras picking us up together. She passed us her tablet through the books. We read through the pages Lydia had translated.

“That’s everything Lydia can translate, and trust me she was very confused.” Allison told us.

“What did you tell her?” Scott asked.

“That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Allison told Scott. They both started to chuckle. Stiles and I shared a look.

“We’re part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Stiles spoke up. Allison and Scott looked between us apologetically but didn’t say anything.

“Does it say how to find out who's controlling him?” Scott asked bringing us pack on topic.

“Not really. But Stiles was right about the thing only going after murderers.” Allison told us.

“Yes!” Stiles cheered. I held up my hand for a high five while I continued listening to Allison.

“It called the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There’s a story there about this south American priest, who uses the Kanima to execute murderers in his village.” Allison told us.

“Alright, so maybe it’s not all that bad.” I said hopefully.

“Until the bond grows strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to.” Allison added.

“All bad. All very very bad.” Stiles said.

“Here’s the thing, the Kanima is actually supposed to be a werewolf but it can’t be.” Allison started to explain.

“Until it resolves that in it’s past which manifests it.” Scott said reading from the tablet.

“Okay, if that means that Jackson needs a few thousand hours of therapy I could have told you that myself.” Stiles said.

“What if it has something to do with his parents. His real parents.” Allison wondered.

“I bet you’re right. I remember watching Jackson throw a tantrum in elementary school when he found out. We were actually kind of friends before he knew.” I nodded, agreeing with Allison.

“Does anyone know what actually happened to his real parents?” Scott asked looking between us all.

“Lydia might.” Stiles told us.

“What if she doesn’t know anything?” Scott asked.

“Well he doesn’t have a restraining order against me. So I’ll talk to him myself.” Allison told us, putting away the book she was pretending to read.

“What do I do?” Scott asked.

“You have a makeup exam remember?” Allison reminded him. Scott looked to Stiles and I but we just nodded. He had to retake that exam.

“If he does anything, you run the other way.” Scott warned her.

“I can take care of myself.” She told him before.

“Allison, if you get hurt while I’m busy taking some stupid test, someone’s going to need to take care of me.” Scott warned her, gripping her hand underneath the bookshelf.

“If he does anything…” Scott started to say.

“Like?” She asked.

“Anything evil.” Stiles said sticking his head through the bookshelf. Allison pushed him back through. I caught his book as it fell out of his hands. She left us to go and find Jackson.

“Are you two seriously part of an online gaming community that battle mythical creatures?” Scott asked as soon as she was gone.

“Don’t be jealous Scott. It’s not a good look on you.” I told him taking Stiles arm and leading him out of the library. I heard Scott chuckle behind us.

“Do you think we’re still apart of the team? We haven’t shown up for the last four missions.” Stiles asked.

“We were fighting for our lives or trying to save someone else's, but now that you mention it. We’ve probably been replaced.” I told him. He groaned in despair.

-

We found Lydia coming out of her math class. Stiles and I ran to catch up with her.

“Hey Lydia, we need you to tell us all you can about Jackson's parents.” I told her. Stiles gave me a pained look. I just shrugged. We were going to have to ask her eventually. I prefer to be blunt about it.

“I’m not supposed to tell anybody.” Lydia said not slowing her pace even slightly.

“Anyone who ever says they're not supposed to tell anyone is always dieing to tell someone so tell us.” Stiles told her.

“Why do you want to know?” Lydia asked.

“I can’t tell you that.” Stiles said quickly. I smacked the back of his head.

“Then I’m not telling you.” She told us before picking up her pace.

“But you are telling me that you could tell us something if you wanted to tell us.” Stiles said trailing off as he realised he wasn’t making much sense.

“Was that a question?” Lydia asked.

“It felt like a question.” Stiles said rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, tell me if this feels like an answer. No.” I growled as Stiles and I chased after her.

We ended up losing her in the crowd of people on the stairs. I huffed in defeat, turning to throw my backpack at something I saw Erica pinning Stiles to a wall. There wasn’t much I could do about it with all the cameras in the school but I ran to put myself between them anyway. I could heal at least.

“Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson’s real parents?” Erica demanded.

“Why are you bringing out the claws on camera?” I asked pointing to the monitor behind her. I stepped further between her and Stiles when she pulled her clawed hand off his chest.

“That’s right. You wanna play catwoman. I’ll be your batman.” Stiles taunted as I pulled him away.

“If you’re wondering about Jackson’s real parents they’re about half a mile from here. In Beacon Hills cemetery.” She told us before flouncing away. Her perfect curls bobbing behind her. Stiles and I looked at each other before racing after her.

“Alright wait.” Stiles called out as we caught up.

“Do you know how they died?” I asked.

“Maybe, if you tell me why you’re so interested.” Erica bargained. Stiles looked to me. I shook my head but it didn’t matter.

“It’s him isn’t it?” She said stopping.

“What? Who? Him who?” Stiles asked trying poorly to hide it.

“The test didn’t work but it’s still him. It’s Jackson.” Erica figured it out.

“You can’t tell Derek okay. There is a lot more to this that you don’t know about, and just because you got the alpha bite makeover doesn’t give you the license to go around destroying people.” Stiles told her as we followed her down the athletic hallway.

“Why not? That’s all anybody ever used to do to me. I used ot have the worst crush in the world on you. Yeah, you Stiles, and you never once even noticed me. Exactly how you’re not noticing me now.” Erica told him. I looked to Stiles who was watching something on the floor. I looked down to see water coming out of the boys locker rooms. I started to listen closer and I heard fighting. Scott and Jackson. Before I could do anything Scott and Jackson burst through the door. It almost looked like Jackson was winning. Erica grabbed Jackson and held him back as Stiles and I helped Scott up.

“What’s going on?” Harris asked conveniently showing up in the athletic hallway.

“Nice timing doc.” I rolled my eyes at him. Harris glared at me.

“What do you idiots think you are doing?” Harris yelled at all of us.

“You dropped this.” Matt said holding out Allison’s tablet.

“All of you. Detention. Three o’clock.” He told us. Matt looked like he wanted to protest but knew better. Talking back to Mr.Harris would only get him in deeper trouble.

-

When three rolled around Harris led us all to the Library. I sat down at a table with Stiles Scott and Erica.

“We can’t be in detention together. I have a restraining order against these tools.” Jackson told Harris.

“All these tools?” Harris asked.

“No just us tools.” Stiles told him as Scott and I waved.

“Alright. You three over there.” Harris told us pointing to the farthest table. We packed up and moved. Scott sat across from Stiles and I sat on Stiles left not wanting my back to Jackson.

“I’m going to kill him.” Scott told us as we all sat down. He was still beyond pissed about what happened to Allison.

“No you’re not. You’re going to find out who's controlling him and then you’re going to help save him.” Stiles corrected.

“No, you’re right. Let’s just kill him.” Scott said staring daggers into the back of Jackson's head.

“Oh no.” Stiles and I groaned.

Scott eventually looked away from Jackson. I started picking at the desk, as I watched Erica.

“Hey. What if it’s Matt. I mean this whole thing comes back to the video right?” Stiles said. I looked over at the supposedly evil mastermind who was eating his popchips.

“Danny said he’s the one who found the two hours of footage missing.” Scott pointed out.

“Exactly. He’s trying to throw suspicion off himself.” Stiles said.

“So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of argent's hunters and a mechanic working on your Jeep?” Scott asked.

“Yes.” Stiles tell him.

“Why?” Scott asked confused.

“Because he’s evil.” Stiles explains.

“You just don’t like him.” I tell Stiles.

“The guy bugs me, I don’t know what it is.” Stiles said as we all watch Matt.

“Any other theories?” Scott asked. Before Stiles could come up with anything else Jackson gets up holding his head and runs out to the bathroom. Harris follows but not before warning us not to leave our seats. As soon as he’s out the door we run over to Erica’s table.

“Stiles says you know how Jackson’s parents died.” Scott probs.

“Maybe.” Erica shrugs us off.

“Talk.” Scott tells her.

“It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his porsche he’d make some comment about the hug settlement he’ll be getting when he’s eighteen.” Erica told us pushing her notebooks to the side.

“So not only is Jackson rich now, but he’s getting even richer at eighteen?” I asked.

“Yup.” Erica confirmed.

“There’s something so deeply wrong with that.” Stiles said. We all nodded in agreement.

“You know what, I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox. He keeps everything.” Erica offered opening up her computer.

“Scott McCall please report to the principal's office.” Allisons mother said over the intercom. I shared a panicked look with Scott and Stiles before Scott took his things and headed the the office.

“Woah, look at the dates.” Stiles said pointing something out to Erica on her screen. I was sitting across from them listening for Scott.

“Passengers arrived to the hospital DOA. June fourteenth ninteenninteyfive.” Erica read aloud for my benefit.

“Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth.” Stiles pointed out as we watched Jackson walk back in. Harris began to pack up his things and we all stood in anticipation of getting out of detention.

“Oh no. I’m leaving, but none of you are. At least not until you finish the reshelving.” Harris told us patting one of the dozen or so carts filled with books. He actually chuckled as he left us there.

When Scott got back he met up with Stiles, Allison and I in the back corner of the library. Stiles filled both of them in on what we found out about Jackson.

“What does that mean?” Scott asked confused about Jackson's birthday.

“If means Jackson was born after his mom died, by C-section.” I tried to explain.

“They had to pull him out of her dead body.” Stiles added.

“So was it an accident or not?” Allison asked us.

“The word all over the report is inconclusive.” Stiles told her.

“What? His parents could have been murdered?” Scott asked finally catching on.

“If they were then it falls in line with the Kanima myth.” I said putting back another book. I was starting to notice I was the only one in our group who was actually shelving. I pulled the book Stiles was resting his arm on out from underneath him.

“Yeah, it seeks out and kills murders.” Stiles finished my thought.

“But for Jackson or for the person controlling him?” Allison asked looking between Stiles and I. I just shrugged.

“We have to talk to him. We have to tell him.” Scott said walking out of the asile. I stepped out of his way.

“He’s not going to listen.” Allison tried to warn him.

“You’re wasting your breath. Scott rarely thinks anything through.” I told her. Stiles nodded. Allison just groaned.

“Hey, he’s your boyfriend.” I told her.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. I grabbed Stiles and Allison and pulled them to the ground crouching over them protectively as glass shards and books rained down around us. I heard Erica scream and looked through the books, watching as her body hit the ground. Scott flew out of nowhere landing on a library cart in front of us. He scrambled to his feet putting himself in front of Allison as we stood. I did the same for Stiles. We all watched as Jackson wrote something on the chalkboard before jumping out the window.

We walked up to the chalkboard that read “Stay out of my way or I’ll kill all of you.” Then I turned to see Erica having a seizure. I smacked Stiles shoulder before running to her side, Stiles hot on my heels.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Stiles said as we held her.

“Derek. Only to Derek.” Erica begged. I helped Stiles pull Erica up. I cradled her in my arms as she shook.

“I know where Derek is let's go.” I told Scott. He looked between me and Allison who was crouched on the other side of the bookshelf before he ran to her. I rolled my eyes at him before turning to leave with Erica. Stiles was behind me the keys to the Jeep already in his hand. Scott caught up to us just as we reached the parking lot.

“You’re in the back.” I told him as he opened the door for me and Erica. He got in without a word. I sat in the passenger seat holding Erica close as I gave Stiles directions on how to get to Derek's hide out. When we got there I didn’t bother to knock. I just kicked the door in. Derek stormed out of his train but his faced turned from on of rage to one of horror when saw the shaking Erica in my arms. He took her from me and brought her into the train car.

“Is she dying?” Scott asked as we crouched around her.

“She might, which is why this had to hurt.” Derek said rolling up her sleeve and snapping her arm in two.

“A broken arm?” Stiles asked appalled.

“It will trigger the healing process if we’re lucky.” Derek said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t describe any of us as lucky.” I said watching him.

“I still have to get the venom out. This is where it's really going to hurt.” Derek said as he squeezed the blood out of her arm. Erica was full on screaming now. After a second she collapsed back into Stiles arms.

“Stiles, you make a good batman.” She told him before going completely unconscious.

When Derek finished draining the venom he lead Scott and I out of the train car, leaving Stiles to watch over Erica.

“You know who it is. You just wanted Erica to confirm it.” Scott said as Derek sat up on an old barrel.

“Jackson.” Derek nodded.

“I’m going to help you stop him as part of your pack.” Scott old him. Derek and I both looked at him in disbelief.

“If you want me in, fine. But we do it on one condition.” Scott warned him.

“We’re going to catch him, not kill him.” Scott told him.

“And?” Derek asked.

“And we do it my way.” Scott told him. I looked between the two of them.

“I’ll help to, but I’m sure as hell not part of your pack. Just in case you were wondering.” I told Derek before heading back into the train car to check on Stiles and Erica. Leaving the two boys to their weird staring contest.

[ingridgovaninsights]

The Charlotte Chapters- Part 3

I didn’t think anything of that night again until Ross began to question me about it. It all came up so randomly, and to this day I still don’t understand why. Did he want to pick a fight? Did he want an excuse to get out of the relationship? Was he seriously that insecure? I would never know. But he did it. Seemingly so innocent, he brought it up.

“Charlotte, can I ask you something?” Ross said one day. “And I won’t be mad. Just be honest.”

I won’t be mad. That was probably the biggest lie ever. I could tell him anything… anything in the world! So long as it met his conditions of what was appropriate or not.

“What did you and Elliott do that night that he came over?”

This is where it started. For some reason this question set off a hundred more questions in my anxious brain. Did I do something wrong? Was I a liar? A cheater? A terrible person?

I answered honestly. “We had a few beers, had coffee. We played some board games, some video games.”

Was I leaving details out? Was I being secretive? Up until then, I hadn’t doubted anything.

“You had drinks with the guy? In your apartment, alone?”

“Yeah,” I said, starting to feel quite nervous, “We’re really old friends.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Ross said. He was silent for a moment, as if he had to hold back some sort of crazy anger or upset. “Why would you do that, Charlotte? Why wouldn’t you come to me first?”

“I wanted to hang out with Elliott,” I said. “I don’t understand why that’s a problem.”

I felt like I was being interrogated for a crime, and I had no idea what the interrogator was talking about. I was innocent until proven guilty. But even innocent people get nervous when they’re being grilled.

Somewhere in this story, Ross got so angry to the point of throwing things and yelling. In my own apartment. He grabbed a book off my bookshelf, and just whipped it across the living room. It hit the couch and bounced off onto the floor. Aiming to miss, I guess.

But I was shaking. I was kind of scared, to be honest. Scared of what he could do when he was angry… if this is over something I didn’t even do, imagine how angry he would have been if I did do something.

The yelling went on for some time- I lost track of how long he had his voice raised. He yelled at me about how I had betrayed him, how I was a hypocrite and a liar, and how I should have immediately told him. Told him what, though? As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to tell. But what did I know, right?

“Don’t ever talk to me again. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

Those were probably the most hurtful words to me. I can still hear them in my mind. I can understand people saying things they don’t mean out of anger and they later regret it, but what the fuck was he so angry about?

I found myself crying, begging for him not to leave. I didn’t know how to be alone. Apparently being with someone who talked to you like garbage and accused you of terrible things was better than being alone for a little while. Why would I settle for that?

“Please,” I blubbered. “Please, Ross.”

I tried grabbing onto his shirt sleeve. He jerked his arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat.

At that point I was sort of afraid that if I touched him, he would possibly become violent. It wasn’t likely, but the thought crossed my mind.

“I’m getting my things, and then I’m gone,” Ross said.

He was fuming, stomping around aimlessly. He snatched up his gaming console, his controllers, and a few games he had lying around. He stormed out the door to dump it in his car.

I felt like I was going crazy. I had been crying so hard, my face had turned bright red, and my head was starting to throb. Everything was a little blurred over from the tears. But I knew what I wanted to do- I went for the cutlery drawer and pulled out a steak knife.

Pathetic, really.

It wasn’t even that sharp- I struggled to cut through steak with those knives. Why would I even attempt this if I knew it probably wouldn’t have any effect? For attention, perhaps. I hoped that Ross would come back, see me somehow bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and feel terrible about himself. Yeah, that would show him…

What a terrible thought. An immature, selfish thought. I held the tip of the knife to my forearm. I really couldn’t do it. That’s just a shitty thing to do.

The moment I heard the apartment door swing open again, I foolishly tossed the knife onto the counter, only for it to bounce back off the surface and stab me in the foot.

“Ow, fuck!” I screamed.

Ross came rushing in. “What the hell is going on?”

He looked down at my foot, utterly shocked. Then he frantically looked around as if something nearby might be able to help. The knife got me good- my foot was bleeding pretty heavily. Not one of my brightest moments, but hey, I was successfully bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

In a panic, Ross grabbed a bundle of paper towels and wrapped them around my foot. He ordered me to hold it in place while he found the tape, and wrapped the tape around it securely.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Maybe just check on it later.”

And then he started to leave, grabbing a few more items out of my bedroom- some shirts, a pair of jeans. He probably had handfuls worth of socks here, but I guess that wasn’t important.

He was just going to leave me like this?

I hobbled after him towards the door. The light in the hallway flickered- I’d been meaning to replace it for a long time.

“That’s it?” I asked in disbelief.

“You’re fine,” he told me, and like that he was gone.

After months of needing a replacement, the light finally went out.

***

Part Two: The Three Month Crisis

This part of my life was absolute chaos. In fact, a lot of it I do not remember. I wonder if subconsciously I repressed those memories because of how painful a time it was. How embarrassed I was for all the crazy things that I did. I don’t tell anyone this story; it’s simply too dark of a time for me to go into. But I think eventually, things need to come out. I can’t keep them bottled inside forever, or they’ll eat me alive.

Immediately following the split with Ross, I started to go mad. I curled up into a ball and I cried on the floor of my kitchen, unable to move or even send a text to a friend. I think I stayed in that position for about three hours, my mind racing, wondering what the hell I was going to do.

On hour three I finally decided that was enough. I had to do something. I checked my phone to see a flood of text messages and missed calls from my family, and a couple messages from friends. Apparently Ross had gone home and removed our Facebook photos together, removed our relationship status and blocked all contact. I guess people saw that and it raised concern.

Something in my brain had gone all out of whack, because all logic had disappeared. The first person I contacted was Elliott.

Let’s hang out, I texted him.

For my family, a simple I’m ok was all I sent. I know this would have worried them because I didn’t even elaborate, but I didn’t care at the time. I just wanted to get out of the apartment and go somewhere really, really far away. And I knew Elliott could help me with that.

It didn’t take long. Elliott picked me up within twenty minutes. I hurriedly grabbed a change of clothes and my phone charger and threw it into my purse. Because that’s all you need when you’re planning on going far, far away for who knows how long. Again, the logic was just flawless.

The great thing about it was he asked zero questions until I was ready to talk, which wasn’t for a long time. He did, however, continuously glance over at me, looking very concerned. He stepped on the gas. He enjoyed speed.

I think we drove in silence for about an hour before I said anything.

“You probably know about Ross and I,” I said quietly, staring out the window.

“Yes,” Elliott said.

He wasn’t one to pry. I could tell my story on my own time. I liked that about him. It was now dark outside- I had no idea where we were going; all I could see were the stars flashing by in front of my eyes.

“We can talk about the details of it later,” I said. “Right now I just… I just want to be crazy and spontaneous and get away from this hellhole.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Anywhere that is not here,” I said.

I knew Elliott could think of many places to go- he was a wanderer by nature. He loved long drives, and often he went out on his own to simply explore the world. Hell, he’s been all over the province in his car, going on solitary adventures. I wish I could be that at peace by myself once in awhile.

Elliott said no more, and neither did I. We travelled silently, not even the noise of the radio interfering with the lack of sound. But that was okay- it’s called comfortable silence. I wondered how long it had been since we’d started our drive, but I was too much of a coward to check my phone. What if Ross had texted me, with more words of accusation and hatred? I couldn’t handle that, not right now. I also couldn’t bear to see the pictures of us missing- as if someone had ripped out the pages of my favorite book.

We finally arrived at our mystery destination. I could hear crickets chirping and the wind whistling, but other than that… very, very quiet. There was an odd lack of traffic, or street lights, or people.

“This is where I like to go when I want to be alone,” Elliott told me. “Let’s go, I’ll show you.”

We were at a cottage. It was so cute- not too big, very modest. A log cabin surrounded by pine trees. Just behind the cottage was a huge lake, completely still. It was beautiful. At the time I really didn’t have the capacity to admire it as much as I should’ve, but it was definitely a beautiful retreat.

“You have a cottage?” I said in amazement. “You’ve never mentioned this before!”

“Yeah, well I don’t go around talking about my personal life,” he said. “Well, I mean it’s fair you’re surprised I didn’t tell you. But I use this place as an escape for everything. In solitude.”

“Then why bring me here?”

Elliott started towards the screen door. “If I show you this place, it must mean you’re pretty fuckin’ special.”

The screen door pulled open with a crack, and we were immediately looking into the living room. No keys or lock? Very rural. He stepped inside, and I followed. It was very nicely kept, though I wasn’t surprised because Elliott was always quite organized. It had such a cozy feel to it, with a fireplace in the corner of the room, some old fishing magazines stacked neatly on the coffee table, and even the coasters were in a neat pile. All the coasters had some sort of advertisement for a craft beer. That was very Elliott-like.

The living room was connected to the kitchen and dining area, and there was a back door which lead out to a cute little deck looking out onto the lake. The cottage looked small, but was surprisingly spacious- three bedrooms. One was being used as an office.

“Sometimes I come here just to clean it,” he said. “I don’t visit as often as I should, but I do try to keep it tidy. I can’t stand it when people are slobs- I’d hate to turn into one myself.”

After initially admiring Elliott’s quaint little cottage, it started to come over me again that I was now alone. Ross and I were over, and not just over- he never wanted to see my face again. Damn, that hurt. And suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My surroundings seemed to fade, all the sounds were dulled. I felt like I was nearing the end of a dark tunnel, and everything else was at the end, but I was knee-deep in shit. It was no easy task to get out; there was no way I could reach the end without shit on my hands.

I collapsed onto the couch, staring off into space. I think I vaguely remember Elliott plopping down beside me, watching me closely. He was really worried about me- there was more concern from Elliott right then and there than I felt Ross ever had in our entire relationship. And what had I even done for Elliott to deserve that respect, and that care?

“Charlotte.”

I heard Elliott’s voice, but it was like he was yelling from the top of a well and I had fallen to the bottom. Except, unlike most people, in the moment I was pretty okay with not being rescued. I wanted to just sit at the bottom of my well and let the ropes drop for me. I couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it myself.

“Charlotte!” Elliott snapped me out of it momentarily.

He got my attention only long enough for me to ask him where he kept the alcohol. I was going down a dangerous path- no, not because I’d had problems with alcohol in the past, but moreso because I had problems with self-destruction.

But Elliott got me those drinks. I would soon feel a lot better. I knew it.

I eagerly gulped down the first two- some obscure craft beers, I wasn’t too fond of the taste. Too bitter for my liking. But I hardly remembered that. I just remember the cold drink sliding down my throat, quenching not only my thirst but my need for calm.

I felt a lot better after the first two, but for some reason I continued. It wasn’t necessary, but eh, what the hell. Elliott had one or two for fun.

“You know, I am really really glad you’re here,” I said. I felt like I could speak more freely now. The buzz was coming over me; I felt a hell of a lot lighter. “Thank you so much for saving me. Dunno what I would have done if you didn’t pick me up.”

“What does that mean?” Elliott asked.

I pulled off my sock to reveal my bandaged foot. The blood had seeped through and turned into a brownish red.

“This here was an accident,” I said, “however, I initially was gonna cut myself, you know... make myself bleed. Ross would be all freaked out. But then I got scared, and I threw the knife and stupid me, I dropped it! Why would I try and throw a knife?! Am I that much of an idiot?”

“Charlotte, why would you try and hurt yourself?” Elliott asked. “What will that prove?”

I shrugged. “Eh, was a good idea at the time. Can I get something more to drink or what?!” I slammed the can down on the coffee table. Well, clumsily.

Elliott got up and made his way into the kitchen. He fixed me a drink, but I was sad to see that it wasn’t alcoholic.

“How about some water?” He handed me the glass.

I giggled, and I tried my best to drink the water, but I ended up spilling it all over my shirt, as if I had a big hole in my lip. 

“Why no alcohol?! Elliott, you’re so sweet… that is so sweet of you to be taking care of me, making sure I’m not drinking too much,” I slurred. “Ross would have never done that for me. And you brought me to your cute little secret cottage! I feel so special.”

“You are special,” he said. He was looking into my eyes quite fondly.

“You know, you have really nice eyes,” I said, reaching out to touch him. “Very blue.”

“I’ve always thought your eyes were quite pretty,” Elliott complimented. “Well, all of you is beautiful. Not just your eyes.”

“Why do you have to be so sweet?!” I said a little too loudly. I knew I was creeping closer to him on the couch, for some reason.

Elliott weaved his fingers through my hair. He’d never done anything like that before. It felt really nice to be touched, to feel wanted… I didn’t feel as bad to have someone next to me, looking into my eyes… especially under the sweet influence of alcohol. It was almost euphoric compared to the way I felt a couple hours ago.

“I’m always here for you,” he told me. “Honestly Ross sounds like he was being a real dick to you. And you don’t deserve that. I’m not here to feed you bullshit, if I thought you were exaggerating or being ridiculous I’d call you out on it. You’ve dealt with some shitty stuff. I can help you through that. I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you,” I slurred, “but why talk so much? Let’s like, hang out.” I said it very suggestively, raised eyebrows and all.

Elliott was looking at me with concern, but I could tell he was considering it.

Before I knew it, we were kissing.

[dangan-ronpa-imagines]

First Failure - Izuru x Reader

IF I EVER REFERENCE THE ULTIMATE DREAMER, IT IS THIS. MY FAVORITE ONE SHOT EVER THAT I HAVE WRITEN.

Reader was the first test subject for the Izuru Kamukura project, but failed basically. She is still herself, and has most of the talents. She failed because she wasn’t perfect. They keep her separated from everybody because of it. Izuru finds her one day.

–

Boring. That’s how Y/N would explain her situation right now. She was stuck in a room in the science department. Not many people would come to see her. Tsumiki Mikan was one of the people who’d show up. She always brought food and told her what happened in her old class.

She was once the Ultimate Writer, but after she went through with the experiment, she became the Ultimate Daydream, as she was the failed experiment. They succeeded to give her almost all the talents, but they couldn’t compress her personality and old self down. She wasn’t what they wanted, but they did succeed. She asked why the titled Ultimate Daydream was her title, and they answered that it was close to Hope, a synonym but it wasn’t reached. That was a year ago.

She sighed as she looked around her room. She had a computer, gaming consoles, a TV. She had her own bathroom. She wasn’t allowed to have anything weapon, like forks and knives, so she couldn’t cook or anything. She only received them to eat.

The door opened and Y/N smiled. Tsumiki popped her head in and smiled shyly.

“H-hello Y/N!” Tsumiki opened the door more and allowed herself in, putting the keys back into her pocket. She was holding a tray that had a covered bowl, two dinner rolls, and a cup of milk.

“Hi Mikan!” Y/N smiled and shot up to help her.

“How have you been?” Tsumiki smiled and handed her the tray.

“It’s been boring, like always. I wish I could go outside.” Y/N sat her food on the table she had near the middle of her room. She sat down and motioned for Tsumiki to sit also “How have you been, Mikan?”

“O-oh! I forgot to mention a month or two ago, but they finished the final experiment. He worked. I-I’m sorry! I-I met him today.” Mikan seemed a bit uncomfortable mentioning him. “B-but Teruteru made the food. I told him I had a friend outside of our class who wanted to try his food, so he let me have a portion. If he didn’t I would have given you mine.”

“Aw. Thank you, Mikan! But you should worry about yourself before me.” Y/N opened the bowl to see a beef stew and smiled. It smelled good. “But how’s my successor? How’s he like?”

“He’s… A bit creepy. He doesn’t show emotion. I-I don’t think he has any, Y/N.” Tsumiki looked down and Y/N started to eat. “You were supposed to turn out like him. That’s what scared me.”

“Mikan, I didn’t and that’s all that matters. And hey, maybe the academy will let me out now.” Y/N reached her hand out and sat it over Tsumiki’s as she ate. “But how’s our class?”

“Pretty much normal…” Tsumiki tilted her head. “Chiaki seemed to be cheering back up from her friend going missing. They’re still worried about you. Chisa still hasn’t given an explanation for your disappearance. She knows about both of you now.”

“Have you met any of the first years?” Y/N ripped one of the rolls in half and handed it to her.

“N-no, but I heard there are weird talents. A gambler, a moral compass, a biker gang leader, another luck, a model, a soldier, a detective, a pop idol. They get weirder each time.” Mikan smiled and took a bite of her roll. “The real Ryota got sick again.”

“Ah man, again? Tell him I said to get better.” Y/N felt happy. She knew she was Tsumiki’s current beloved, as she was kind to her caretaker and Tsumiki was at rest around her. She couldn’t help but feel something bad was going to happen soon.

“I will.” Tsumiki smiled and checked the time. “Oh! I have to get to class. Let me put your hair up quickly and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Y/N stood up and Tsumiki pulled her long, dark almost an odd ashy black h/c hair into a pony tail quickly before leaving Y/N with the last dinner role, as she ate the rest, and quickly grabbed the tray and waved goodbye.

Tsumiki had a smile on her face as she shut and locked the door and putting her keys into her pocket. She quickly turned to walk away but went rigid when she saw who was nearby. Izuru Kamukura.

“H-hello, Kamukura!” Tsumiki said it high pitched and full of fear as she felt terrified that he was nearby Y/N.

“Who’s in there. You were obviously feeding someone.” Izuru tilted his head in slight curiosity.

“N-no one! I just go there to eat sometimes!” Tsumiki started to shuffle away.

“… You’re lying.” Was all he said before walking up to her.

“P-please don’t hurt me!” She half shrieked.

“…” Izuru seemed unamused as he quickly brushed by her and walked off. “How boring.”

Tsumiki stood there for a second before scurrying off. What she didn’t know was that Izuru grabbed her key, planning to going into it.

-

Izuru frowned at the Ultimate Surgeon in front of him. Izuru had caught him talking about the Ultimate Daydream and letting them back into classes.

“Who is the Ultimate Daydream?” Izuru’s voice made them jump, as the Ultimate Surgeon and Ultimate Paediatric didn’t notice him at first.

“Um…” The Ultimate Paediatric, a short black haired girl, looked up to the Ultimate Surgeon, a tall blond haired boy, and looked uneasy.

“She… Is your prototype in a way?” The Ultimate Surgeon gulped. “She’s kept away from everybody and only few are allowed to see her. She was a success, but not a full one. They were going to call her the Ultimate False, or Failed, Hope. But the only thing wrong was that we couldn’t suppress her old self and so she couldn’t grab one or two of the talents. But overall, she’s just like you. But with… Emotions.”

Izuru tilted his head slightly and this made the Ultimate Paediatric uneasy.

“S-she was also a Primary Course. T-that was also why she couldn’t take all of them. She was the Ultimate Writer.” The Ultimate Paediatric looked down and shuffled behind the Ultimate Surgeon.

Izuru nodded and turned to leave. He knew she was somewhere behind that door, and he wanted to find her.

-

Y/N smiled to herself as she typed up another short story. It was about a bracelet that gave you your soulmate’s name and did many things. She would often find herself engrossed in her original talent.

The door clicked and she didn’t look up as it opened.

“Tsumiki! Once I’m done with this, do you think Ryota can animate it?! I think he’ll love this one! Its sappy and he loves sappy things!” Y/N kept typing away, but frowned and started to turn when she didn’t get a reply. “Mik-”

She froze and her unnaturally bright and slightly glowing e/c eyes went wide. In the doorway stood someone she had never seen before. He had long black hair that was strait and pooled around his feet on the floor. His eyes where an unnaturally glowing and bright red. His skin was pale, and he wore a black suit. He looked unemotional and bored. She didn’t recognize him but her analytical side was saying that this was most likely her successor.

“… Who are you?” It came out quietly from her mouth. “Are you my successor?”

He stayed quiet before closing the door behind him as he walked into the room. Y/N felt uneasy that he hasn’t said anything. He could be here to kill her.

The mystery boy sat down at her middle table, the one she was sitting at, and stared at her.

“Are… You going to kill me?” She frowned. “I know it is a scenario but I doubt you have a weapon.”

“… Izuru Kamukura. Ultimate Hope.” Was the only thing he said. She nodded and then smiled at him, shocking him on the inside.

“Y/N L/n, Ultimate Daydream. Previously the Ultimate Writer. The Prototype of the Izuru Kamukura project.” She tilted her head. “How’d you find me?”

“… I saw Tsumiki walking out and stole her keys.” Izuru shrugged slightly.

“Scandalous.” Y/N smiled and giggled. “I applaud you. I think she’s scared of you.”

“And you aren’t?” This made Y/N pause.

“No. You wouldn’t hurt me. Not yet at least.” Y/N smiled and looked down at her laptop. “You’d probably be more afraid of me.”

“Why are you locked in here?” He ignored the last part and she shrugged.

“I’m dangerous.” Y/N looked like she didn’t care. “Now that they finished you, I might be released. Just depends on what they decide.”

Izuru hummed and nodded. She seemed happy in here, but maybe she really wasn’t.

“Will you come visit me more?” She looked back up at him and beamed. Izuru could feel his heart quicken and felt like he was dying. Was this an emotion?

“… Sure.” Izuru nodded.

“Thank you!” She smiled brightly. “Oh! Do you want to read one of my stories?!”

She swivelled around quickly to the bookshelf next to a printer. Binders sat on the shelf. She picked up one that said AE 1. It was probably a 3 and a half inch binder filled with paper. She turned back quickly and held it out.

“I called it Another Episode. It’s about two girls in a post-apocalyptic world. One of them finds interest in a boy who is affiliated with the bad side. It’s stupid and sappy, but I think you’d find it at least a tad bit entertaining. I made the characters a bit oblivious for a reason. But they get smart, don’t worry.” She put the binder on top of the table and slid it to him. “There’s two others, but they cover two different stories that intertwine. I thought it’d be a good idea to start you out with this one.”

Izuru picked up the binder and put it in his lap. He was guessing it would be totally predictable, but worth a try.

“Some of the characters do resemble real people. You remind me of one of them.” Y/N smiled as she looked down at her laptop. Izuru stood up, realizing the time and Y/N didn’t look up. “Thanks for coming to find me, Izuru. You’re not talkative, but I like being around you. You’re really not scary. Just quiet.”

“… Thank you.” That was all that Izuru said, leaving Y/N to type on her computer. But once the door closed, she stopped typing and put her hands in her lap.

“I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I?” She mumbled to herself as she remembered that that story was based off the future she saw through her fortune telling skills. “I am letting him read a twisted version of the future.”

-

Izuru was… Genuinely amazed for once. He had just finished her book as he sat inside of the lab.

It was just as she said. It was a love story in an apocalyptic setting. He learned things about emotions and love, how people genuinely show them. She obviously knew her information before writing this.

He could connect the Tsumiki girl to the girl who had issues between two lovers, one for years, and one from recent. Y/N herself was one of the lovers from years, but she was in love with someone else, who wasn’t said. The two were actually on the bad side. This was all through hints and context. Izuru was seen in the epilogue, he knew it was him by how she explained a long haired and cold person ripping out two hard drives for something unknown.

The story itself followed a short haired female and her encounters with a survivor of the previous book, it didn’t drabble much except her duel personality disorder. But the short haired girl fell in love with one of the boys on the bad side, who was basically slave to a group of young teenagers, him being four years older. He treated her well and highly. She learned that his hand wasn’t his, and that was something that actually made Izuru frown, not expecting it. But the major turning point was that he ended up killing her in cold blood, saying she was too important and would get in their way. He was then captured by the girl’s brother.

Izuru didn’t know what to do now. He felt a bit betrayed. He did see this ending as an option, but her going into their love so much and glorifying from both sides, but him turning out to kill her out of spite and actually playing her like that? His love was real, it was obvious, but the sudden death made him question Y/N. Was she showing how unstable things could be?

Izuru stood up and walked down to the girl’s room and opened the door. He looked inside to see she had fell asleep on her laptop.

Izuru sighed and closed the door behind him as he approached her.

“Y/N.” Izuru nudged her. “Wake up.”

Y/N whined and looked up tiredly. “Izzy what do you waaaant?”

Izuru’s eyebrow went up at the nickname. He was about to tell her not to call him that, but the weird dying feeling came back.

“I came to bring you the book back.” He sat the binder down as Y/N yawned and stretched. He had just noticed she was in the hospital gown he wore when he had check-ups. She also had bandages under her hair now, just like him.

“… What happened?” He frowned and Y/N flinched.

“It’s nothing.” She grumbled it, unlike her usual self Izuru had seen over the last few days.

“Y/N, tell me.” He sat down and looked sternly at her as she put the binder away.

“I… I had a break down. It happens when I get mad or too stressed.” She rubbed her face. “I lashed out at Beatrix, the Ultimate Paediatric. I didn’t mean to.”

“… What’d they do?” He frowned and felt anger for the first time since he first met Tsumiki bible inside of his chest.

“…” She stayed quiet.

“Y/N.”

“They knocked me out and sedated me. I couldn’t take relaxers by mouth. I hit my head while falling. They almost shut me down, but they put too much money into me.” She seemed to deflate and was surprised when she felt Izuru’s arms around her.

“They did this in your book when the personality girl got upset.” He grumbled and she smiled.

“Thanks.”

-

Izuru was in his room when the door opened. He sort of expected it to be Y/N, as she would sneak out or convince Tsumiki to let her out to see him, but since the council man went missing, they couldn’t meet up. He also half expected it to be the one who took the council member. And it was.

A strawberry blond girl stood in the doorway, her pigtails almost blocked the other female, who had short black hair.

“Kamukura-Senpai!” She gushed. Izuru mentally sighed. She was going to be annoying.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you!” She stepped in and stopped in front of the single bed he had in his dark room. Y/N’s book, After Life, sat in its binder on the side of his bed.

“I’m Junko Enoshima, formally the Ultimate Model, now Ultimate Despair!” She grinned and waved her hands. “I have come to find you and someone else! Though, I don’t know where they are.”

Junko pouted and Izuru just blinked at her. How boring.

“You might know them. I haven’t heard of their name, just rumors that you’re their successor. The Ultimate Daydream, I believe they are! The original test subject!” Izuru stiffened visibly and his face twitched. “I was mainly coming after her, but heard you were a complete success unlike her, and if I had both, that’d mean I’d succeed even more!”

“What do you want with her?” Izuru’s voice came out like venom. He didn’t trust Enoshima.

“Oooh! So, you do know! And it’s a girl?!” Junko gasped then grinned at the other girl. “You must know where she is, correct?”

“… No.”

“Ahw. She isn’t marked on any files or maps.” Junko pouted. “But I’m here for you right this minute!”

Junko moved closer. “I’ve come to make you an offer! You join us, we can bring Despair to the world! A world full of Hope is boring, yes? So predictable. I’ve become bored of it myself and fell into Despair.”

“Junko’s secondary talent is Analytics.” The ravenette piped up finally. She was the Ultimate Soldier.

“You can join us and see a world fall into-” Junko reached to touch the binder, but got flipped to the floor by a simple kick and held her down by her head, the other girl attacking and he just swatted her away like a fly.

“Ah. How Despairing.” Junko seemed to enjoy it. “I could always get her if you don’t join. She must be in Despair, locked away.”

Izuru ground his boot into her head more, not liking the idea of her joining Junko. But what if he joined her to protect Y/N?

“Ah. You must be protective of her.” Junko smirked. “The Despair if you or her would lose each other. Oh my. Unpredictable.”

Izuru raised his foot and rushed it back down to knock her out and pushed her away, the other girl, Mukuro, rushed up to her.

“Tell her I’ll join her. Now leave.”

-

Y/N smiled tiredly as the movie played on her laptop. She could feel Izuru play with her freshly cut hair, which was cut to her mid neck, from behind her with the hand that wasn’t on the arm looped around her waist.

She had finally convinced Izuru to lay and cuddle with her to watch a movie. She knew he was bored, predicting the outcome already. She had too. It was obvious to them. But she enjoyed watching for the small details. It has been two weeks since they found all of the dead security and the breach, and a couple of days since Tsumiki started to act odd.

“Izuru.” Y/N mumbled it and Izuru hummed in response. “I love you.”

Izuru didn’t respond for a minute but spoke up again.

“Is love the odd dying bubbly feeling?” He watched the screen as Y/N smiled and nodded. “Then I love you too.”

Y/N moved her body to face him. She looked at his face as he moved his gaze to look at her. Y/N pushed herself up some and planted a kiss onto his nose. Izuru gave an irritated look before moving down to kiss her. He felt… Happy now.

Y/N smiled into the kiss as they broke away. Izuru had a small smile on his face. It was barely there, but it was noticeable to her.

“Please stay with me forever.” Y/N wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into Hus tie.

“I promise.” It came out soft, unlike his usual unimpressed and bored tone. This made her smile more and she closed her eyes and slowly fell asleep as Izuru wrapped his arms around her.

-

When Izuru left, he wasn’t expecting Junko to be waiting for him with Mukuro.

“Y/N L/n is her name, isn’t it?” Junko was leaning against the wall and smiling.

“… Yes.” Izuru knew they must had waited for him to go in to appear. See what happened.

“I might as well go talk to her!” Junko beamed and took a step forward but got stopped by Izuru.

“You will not go near her.” Izuru stepped forward.

“Fiiine. Whatever.” Junko turned and let with Mukuro looking confused and left Izuru to go the opposite way.

-

The door creaked open and Y/N smiled. It was most likely Tsumiki or Izuru coming to visit her.

“Is it Izzy or Mikan?” Her voice chirped as she didn’t look away from her laptop, her fingers typing away.

“Neither! But oh my gosh! Y/N-Senpai!” A female’s voice called out and Y/N’s eyes widened as her hands froze. She knew exactly who it was.

“Junko Enoshima.” She whispered is and said female gasped.

“Senpai knows who I am!” It came out as a squeal and Y/N turned to look at her. She had strawberry blonde pigtails that had god awful clips at the base. Her uniform was slutty, in her opinion, but at least get boots where cute.

“Hello. I’ve been half expecting you to show up.” Y/N felt uneasiness and dread filling her.

“Oh! That’s boring.” Junko pouted. “How’d you know?”

“I have many talents. Three contributed mainly. Fortune Telling, Oracle, and Analytics.” Y/N frowned. “I based my books off your future’s doing.”

“Wow…” Junko looked truly shocked and a bit sad. “So… You already know what’s going to happen? That’s a bit harsh. You think?”

“People have read my stories. He has only read the less obvious one. They can’t tell that its non fiction taken and mixed into a romance novel.” Y/N shrugged. She felt empty for the first time since she was first experimented on, when her emotions where suppressed. “I know how both you and your twin die.”

“Oh man!” Junko then giggled. “How Despairing!”

“Junko Enoshima.” The words slipped from Y/N’s moth. “Is He part of this yet?”

“You mean Izuru? Yes. He did it to save you.” Junko shrugged like it was no big deal.

Y/N stated quiet for a couple of minutes, staring at the wall before she spoke up again, obviously in a mental struggle.

“Do you know why they keep me in here?”

“No?” Junko tilted her head.

“I am used as an Oracle, a Prophet. I have the talents for it. I’m also very dangerous. I can be more dangerous than Izuru.” She turned to face Junko and stood up. “I know that of I don’t join you now, I will later. So, I will get this over with, Enoshima.”

“Yay! Thanks, Senpai!” Junko cheered.

“Under my conditions.” Y/N quickly said and it shut Junko up.

“Yes?”

“You do NOT control me or Izuru. We both hold superiority over you.” She paused. “And no spoilers. You cannot read any over the books with Roman Numerals. You cannot mess with them. They’re the future and for me and unknowing people.”

“Of course!” Junko smiled. “Y/N L/n, previously Ultimate Writer, now Ultimate Daydream, welcome to the Ultimate Despair!”

-

Izuru looked utterly pissed as he sat with Y/N. Junko told him that she had joined, and he isn’t taking it well.

“Why did you do it?” This was the first thing he said since he got there and Y/N looked nervous.

“Because we don’t have a choice. You cannot change the future.” She looked down at her hands.

“I love you… You shouldn’t have done this.” Izuru mumbled it.

“I love you too. But we need to get going. She’s going to get my old class soon.” Y/N kissed his cheek and grabbed his hand before pulling him up and out of the room.

-

Y/N stood there quietly as Komaeda confronted Junko.

“I wonder what’d happen if we let him kill her…” Y/N thought out loud and Izuru glanced at her before following his order and stopping Komaeda, but she followed and stood beside Junko as Komaeda was shot in his chest, but it hit his student handbook.

Chiaki quickly went to his aid and looked up to Izuru, who stood very close to a worried and timid Y/N who wanted to help.

Chiaki looked up and her eyes widened. “Y/N. Hinata?!”

Y/N smiled sadly and waved. “Hello, Chiaki.”

“…. Hinata?” Chiaki had desperation in her eyes when she said this and Y/N felt bad for her. She knew after a bit of research that Izuru was once Hajime Hinata. But he was now gone.

“… Who are you?” Izuru frowned and Y/N felt his arm pull him closer.

“Ah! This isn’t some weird three way Shojo Manga where they fall in love with you! How longer are you three going to stare?” Junko huffed and got into Chiaki’s face and smiled brightly.

“Ah! Senpai! You’re the Class Rep! I’ve been meaning to befriend you!” Junko chirped and Chiaki looked confused but surprised. Junko then clapped happily.

“Why…?”

“So, I can win over your class-” Before Junko can finish, a fire extinguisher came flying in and steamed up the area and Chisa, Y/N’s old instructor, came busting in. Izuru quickly went to shield Y/N from getting hit and backed a foot away from their original position.

Chisa instructed Chiaki to get Komaeda out and froze when she saw who was waiting for her.

“Y/N…” It came out as a breath and Y/N started to shake slightly in guilt.

“Ah! Miss Chisa!” Junko cheered and waves her hand to rid of the steam and foam.

“Junko Enoshima…” Chisa watched her as Junko nodded.

“Correct!” Junko cheered. “Sensei I’m so proud!”

“W-what is the meaning of this?!” Chisa stood up and looked frightened.

“Ah, I want to rule and bring the world into Despair.” She turned to Y/N and Izuru, who were standing strait again. She slung her arms around them and smiled goofily. “And I have help!”

“How…? I thought Y/N died?!” Y/N flinched at Chisa’s words.

“Ah, this is Y/N L/n, as you know. The Ultimate Daydream. And this is Izuru Kamukura. The Ultimate Hope.” Junko beamed. “Oooof course, I’m Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Despair!”

Chisa looked horrified as everything clicked together.

“These two are the two main experiments for the Kamukura project.” Junko kissed Y/N’s cheek and smiled as she dug her nose into Y/N’s cheek.

“How did you take something so good, and turn it into… This?!” Chisa frowned.

“Easily.” Junko let them go and stepped forward. “Despair.”

-

The almost same thing happened to the others. They got down and where shocked to see Y/N with Izuru and Junko. She looked timid and like she was going to burst out crying. They tried to say how they needed to give her back, but got shut down when Junko said she was voluntarily there. With her love.

That was when Tsumiki felt a bit hurt but smiled even more. She was in love with a gentle and kind, timid, women, and a cruel abusive one. And Tsumiki well knew it. She knew Y/N was a blind path, and Junko wouldn’t ever truly love her, but she was too high to care.

That was when Tsumiki joined their side and shocked everyone. She explained that she has been with Y/N throughout this whole time, helping her recover in hopes to have her back to class, but she felt falling into this was better, and they could all be one again.

After a lot of persuasion, they managed to get the class to join. They brainwashed them slightly and made the. obsessed. Then came the Tragedy.

Y/N and Izuru where the most sane out of them. Y/N kept to herself and didn’t kill much, just helped with technical things. She helped take over. She was Junko’s favorite next to Izuru for obvious reasons.

Then came her prediction of Trigger Happy Havoc. Junko died. Then came Another Episode. Then came the Goodbye Despair, and she was ready.

“I love you.” Y/N teared up as she whispered to Izuru and kissed his lips.

“I love you too.” He replied before everything went white.

Y/N then woke up in a classroom, not remembering a thing and turned to see a brunet boy with an Ahoge sitting next to her.

“H-hello.” She shyly stuttered as he smiled back.

“Hi.” He tilted his head and to her he looked adorable. “Let’s go see what’s going on here.”