#please i’m just a girl lost in the sea of a new sport

[joyfulmile]

hello i just started getting into lacrosse via espn+ (mostly a hockey and tennis fan otherwise) i would like a crash course please

[cierrabiscuits]

Koutaro Bokuto x Fem Reader: Eligible Bachelor

 Summary: Some of the MSBY team are scheduled at a charity event and are auctioned off for dates, you being the manager go with them. The team is well aware of your crush on Bokuto and put a plan in motion. What’s the worst that can happen. 

 Words: 5.1K

 Warnings: Angst if squint, happy ending, MSBY 4 being sold as dates for Charity.

 Authors Note: Hello! This is my first time posting a fic so go easy on me, I hope you all enjoy it and get a good laugh out of it like I did! This is part of a collab with @ambershaydeoffical! Please support all the talented writes who participated. 

Update: I made a route for Sakusa! Find that here

Update: I made a route for Atsumu! Finda that here

Story

“Alrighty boys are you ready to go on in?” You said staring at the four well dressed men  behind you.

 “No, and I want to go home.” Sakusa adjusted his black facemask. He wasn’t keen on coming to this event whatsoever.

 “Sakusa I know, but I really need you! Besides what would you be doing anyway? It's Valentine's day and you're as single as single gets. Live a little. Maybe you will find your Mrs.Clean tonight! Ya never know!” You said as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

 “Omi-Omi don't be that way. Our lovely manager here worked hard to get us this opportunity, and it's benefiting a charity you scrooge.” Atsumu smacked Sakusa’s back.”I think your just upset because you know all the ladies are going to bid on me.” The blond setter smirked at the very pissed Sakusa who just glared at him.

 “NOoO It's going to be me who gets all the bids. I still have my tan from Brazil and I’m alot cooler than all of you.” Hinata piped up, proudly adjusting his tie that had little volleyballs on it. 

 “Well if we don’t get our asses in that building, aint none of y’all getting any bids, besides I’m freezing to death,” You said rubbing your arms. The dress you wore done little to protect you from the cold night. 

 “Take this please, I don’t want to freeze to death. I like you warm and alive.” Bokuto, who's been oddly quiet, spoke up wrapping his grey tux jacket around your shoulders leaving him in his blue button up. You could smell his cologne on the jacket, you could drown in this and wouldn't complain. Your cheeks ran hot and you managed to let out a “thank you” through chattering teeth.

 “Okay let’s get going.” You said wrapping the jacket tighter around you as the boys followed you like baby ducks. Bokuto walked up beside you while the two boys bickered over who would have the most bids in the back, Sakusa wanted no part in it and stayed to himself. You look at Bokuto  who seemed nervous. You decided to hype him up a bit before he went into emo mode. “Bokuto you are going to have some gorgeous high profile women coming after you tonight, I’m jealous of them.” You didn't lie, you had the biggest crush on Bo, ever since you took the job as the MSBY manager. You never have a frown on your face next to him- until now. You knew he’d have a woman, that's not you, by his side tonight. You’d bid on him until your bank went in the negative but you don’t get paid like the women at this event do.

 “You wait and see, I’ll have the most beautiful one by time the night is out.” Bokuto said, smiling at you. You felt a pang of sadness creep on you, if he only knew. 

 The warm air of the ballroom felt nice against your cool body. You gave Bokuto his jacket back, you secretly wished you could keep it forever. You took in your surroundings, the ball room was filled with women in designer dresses and you could see the small stage in the middle of the room. 

 “Guys I have to find the event coordinator and see what time you guys need to get on stage. Please be on your best behavior, there are cameras everywhere. Atsumu keep the drinking to a minimum, Shoyo for the love of God go to the bathroom now, Omi keep these fools in line and you better be nice to people and last but never the least Bokuto, If you dance please be careful, I don’t want to take you to the ER again because you hit the Cha cha slide too hard. And with that I’m out. I’m counting on you guys.” You said giving them a thumbs up as you got lost into the sea of people to hunt the event coordinator. 

~

 “Thank you so much Y/N! Everyone is looking forward to the auction. We have some models and a couple pop stars who will be in the line up as well as a few volunteers . I want your boys to go at the end, as they say ‘always save the best for last’.” The coordinator spoke over the bustling crowd. She went over the rules and where they needed to go and what time to line up. You soaked in all the information the bubbly coordinator was giving you. “I have to go let the rest of the people know the game plan. Please have your guys here and lined up in half an hour. Thank you again!” And with that she disappeared into the crowd. Now here came the hard part.

You scanned the large ballroom to find your heathens. Sakusa would be the easiest to find because he is most likely on one of the four corners in the building. Hinata was most likely with Bokuto, and Atsumu was a wild card, he could be at the bar, maybe even on the dance floor trying to impress girls with his dance moves(That suck by the way). You recall the time you found him passed out in a bush drunk off ass at a gala last year. You make up a game plan, you would get Bo and Hinata first, then find a hopefully sober Tsumu and lastly get Sakusa (you figured it best not to drag him around the ballroom) You spot Bokuto’s tall figure next to a snack bar, and as you figured Hinata was with him. They were both stuffing their mouths with meat kebabs and other foods like wild animals, they sure love to eat you thought. 

 “Bokuto,Hinata, they are getting ready to line everyone up, wait for me over there.” You said pointing towards an area that was not  too terribly crowded.

 “HEY HEY HEY Y/N try one of these things, they are so freakin good.” He shoved a cake pop in front of your face. You took it from the gray haired boy.

 “Thank you Bo, but we really need to go.” You took a bite from the cake pop. “Wow that is really good.” You said finishing it in one bite. You heard some snickers from a group of girls, they made a smug comment about you eating it all at once. You normally would throw hands but you had an image to uphold. You shouldn't let it bother you but it did.

 “Hey don’t let that bother you, besides I like a girl that can eat.” Bokuto said, patting your head. He is literally the human version of sunshine. 

 “Thanks Bo. But really we need to get the move on, I still have to hunt Tsumu down. Can you and Hinata wait for me over there.” You said pointing to the area again.

 “Roger that.” They said unison. 

  “I’ll be right back.” You said going back into the crowd. You checked the dancefloor first and he wasn't there(You were relieved he was not.). You made your way to the bar and found him surrounded by women who were mesmerized by his thick accent. You waved him down and he nodded and turned his attention back to the group he had attracted.

 “It looks like It's time fer’ me to go, make sure you all bid for me. I’ll be a waitin’” He said getting up and following you. The women he had been entertaining giggled as he walked away.

 “Look at you being a player. I didn’t expect that from a man who yells at girls when they cheer for him.” You leaned into him so he could hear you over the crowd.

 “I’m just tryin’ to raise some money, it's strictly business. My heart belongs to volleyball for the most part.”He said winking at you. He truly is just a fool in love with the sport. 

You led Atsumu to the group and went to retrieve poor  Sakusa. You looked around for a few minutes and felt a tug at the back of your shirt. You turn around and see Sakusa towering over you. 

 “This is new, I’m used to finding you sulking in a corner.” You said staring into his black eyes. 

 “I watched you gather everyone up, I figured I would come on over to make it easier for you.” He began to walk towards the rest of the group.

 “I guess being 6’4 has its perks huh Omi? You're like a watchtower.” You said looking up at the tall spiker.

 “Yeah, guess so.”He said playing with one of his dark curls.

~~

 “Okay we have everyone, so you guys are going last, I’ll leave who goes first to you guys. Now let's go get lined up.” You lead them to the stage and let them line up. Atsumu insisted on going first, Hinata would go after him, then Sakusa and lastly Bokuto. 

 “You owe me some umeboshi after this.” Sakusa said, taking his mask off and putting it in the pocket of his tux.

 “Sure thing. I'll even throw in a thing of nice smelling hand sanitizer for the trouble.” You crossed your arms and smirked at him.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” He said, filing behind Hinata.

 You looked at Bokuto who appeared to be a nervous wreck. He had a small layer of sweat on his forehead and his hands were shaking slightly. “Hey it's going to be okay, I’ll be right here.” You said pulling out your handkerchief and dabbing the sweat off his forehead. “You're amazing and dare I say you're the best looking one.” You said making him blush.

 “Ummm HEY.” Atsumu said glaring at you, obviously butt hurt from your comment. Sakusa was unamused and took it upon himself to kick Atsumu. That gave you the opportunity to turn your attention back to the nervous male beside you. Before you could comfort him the loud speaker cut you off.

 “Ladies and gentleman, would you please give your attention to the center stage, the date auction will begin momentarily.” The coordinator announced causing everyone to tense up a bit.

 “Come on guys loosen up a bit, I’m going to be in the front taking pictures for our instagram page. So show off a little! Show them you are proud to be a part of such an awesome volleyball team!” You hyped them up one last team. “With that being said I want a group picture so bring it in guys.” You said pulling the camera and ushering the athletes into the frame. “Say cheese.” Atsumu wrapped his arm around Sakusa who didn’t have the chance to push him off, Bokuto gave Hinata bunny ears. It was a chaotic photo, but It caught their true essence. 

 “I want a picture with you before you go Y/N. Pleaseee.” Bokuto gave you puppy dogs eyes and you couldn't deny him.

 “Sure Bo. Atsumu here.” You handed him the camera and got beside Bokuto. He wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close to him. You could feel his muscles through the tux that fit just a little too good. 

 “Aww you look like a cute couple.” Atsumu teased as he brought the camera up to snap a picture. You couldn't make a comeback as embarrassment washed over you. You looked up at Bokuto who had a blush adorning his handsome face.

 “Y/N I’m going to do something, don’t get mad.” Bokuto said, picking you up bridal style before you could even protest.

 “That’s what I’m talking about!” Atsumu said, snapping more pictures. 

 “Bokuto put me down, I'm heavy!” You shriked  gripping onto his tux.

 “No you're not. I could carry you around all night like this if you wanted me to!” He smiled down at you! You felt your face light up like a Christmas tree. No matter how big or small you were, Bokuto always made you feel like a princess. 

 “As much as I’d love you to, we gotta get this ball rolling.” You said as he gently placed you back on your feet. “I’ll be taking that.” You said snatching the camera from Atsumu who was smirking. He seemed to be hiding something from the way he was acting. He is definitely sus you thought. You waved the boys goodbye and made you way to the front of the crowd. You got the camera ready as the spotlight of the stage flickered on. 

 “Thank you all for coming out tonight! We hope you are ready to see the heartthrobs we have lined up for you!!” The announcer said setting the tone. “Valentine's day is all about love and being with one another. So if your single, ladies, pull those yen out and let’s get to business!” The crowd cheered and applauded as the auction began.

You didn’t pay much attention to the men coming on stage, your only worry was the last 4. You scrolled through the camera to see the pictures Atsumu took of you and Bokuto. Bokuto had such a wide smile on his face in the pictures, your smile was just as big, even though your face was full of panic in the one where he effortlessly picked you up. You’re pulled from your day dream when you heard the announcer’s voice.

 “We have some special guests tonight from the MSBY volleyball team! We’ll start first with Miya Atsumu!” The announcer said as Atsumu walked on the stage like he owned it. He flipped his hair and looked at the group of women he serenaded earlier and blew them a kiss. You got lucky and snapped a picture of it, he may be annoying as hell but he knows how to get women. He had about ten women fighting over him, his bids kept going up and up. After a cutthroat battle he was sold for roughly  200,000 yen. He smirked and walked off the stage. You couldn’t help but chuckled to yourself, he’d be one of a kind if he didn’t have a twin. 

 “Up next we have Hinata Shoyo!” She said as the tangerine headed boy shly walked on stage. He looked confident for the most part and he thankfully went to the bathroom before this. He had on one of his classic charming but cute smiles. You could hear girls behind you talk about how cute he was. His skin was glowing under the spotlight thanks to the Brazilian sun. His bids went up high, he ended up being sold for 120,000 yen. He waved at the audience and bounced off the stage.

 “Let’s welcome our next bachelor who just so happens to be the tallest one tonight, Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You watched on edge as Sakusa walked out, he didn’t seem nervous but he wasn’t all that interested either, he stood in the middle of the stage like a statue. To make matters worse he wasn’t smiling. You grabbed his attention for a moment and smiled as wide as you could and pointed at your face, you felt like one of the psychotic moms from toddlers and tiaras but you had to do something or he wasn't going to get any bids. You mouthed the words “Smile please” at him and he finally took the hint. He had an awkward but cute smile on his face finally. You relaxed a little and resumed taking pictures. His bids began to go up and quick. Sakusa looked at the exit of the stage and smirked at someone and turned his attention back to the crowd. You could only guess he was looking at Atsumu who was probably pissed at how high Sakusa’s bids were. Sakusa was sold for a whopping 500,000 yen. You know Tsumu’s ego was damaged beyond repair right now. Sakusa bowed and left the stage. 

 “Now let’s end this night right! We have one more contest so let’s welcome Bokuto Koutarou to the stage!” You felt your heart drop and the announcer said his name. You had to watch someone you loved dearly be bid off to some rich girl who would probably steal him away. You tried to knock away negative thoughts but you couldn’t help it. He looked sinfully good when he walked on stage. What nervousness he felt was gone and now it’s nothing but his overwhelming confidence. He carefully watched one specific area of the crowd. You snapped pictures of him (a lot of them being for your personal collection) as he walked around the stage flexing and showing off. His eyes met yours a lot and he seemed to be smirking at you. But his attention always went back to the one area of the crowd. You heard his bids go up, one particular girl was bidding for him like her life depended on having him. Her voice came from the direction he kept starting at. He looked nervous when anyone but her called out a bid. You began to get ate up with pure jealousy, you wish you could take him off the stage and run away with him right then and there. The bids kept going up and up and the girl that kept bidding on him got him for 150,000 yen. He looked ecstatic. He looked at you and smiled before he went off stage. Your heart dropped and you wanted to leave, but you still have work to do. 

 “That concludes the auction tonight! If you won you can meet up with your bachelor over here on the left.” The announcer pointed towards the group of men. You made your way to find the guys so you can take more pictures and let them know where you’ll be when they get done.

 “You guys did awesome!” You said running up to them. They gave you a soft smile. You notice Bokuto was MIA. “Umm guys, where is Bo?” They hesitated for a second but your conversation was cut short as the boys dates for the evening came up.

 “Sakusa was it?” A well dressed man walked up to the tall volleyball player. You noticed a small girl clutching his dress shirt. She couldn’t be any older than 8. “This is my daughter, she wanted someone to dance with her but in all honesty I’m trying to make some business deals while I’m here, keep her company for me.” The man patted his shoulder and slipped some extra money in Sakusa’s shirt pocket, leaving him slacked jawed. 

  “All the umeboshi your heart desires, a big box of the nice face masks you like, and whatever else you want, just please be nice to this poor girl. She looks sad.” You whispered into Omi’s ear trying to persuade him a little more.

 “I didn’t come here to babysit, but I guess I can.” He said low enough that the girl couldn’t hear. Omi peered down at the small girl, she actually had moles on her face kinda like he does but on the opposite side.

 “Umm hi.” She said looking up at the tall man. She seemed nervous. You nugged Omi in the side to get him to say anything.

 “When was the last time you washed your hands?” He asked the girl and you could have choked him. The girl giggled at his statement.

 “I wash my hands all the time! Look my mom even bought me this!” She pulled out a small key chain with a rabbit on it, attached was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. “Would you like some?” She said opening the cap. Sakusa held his hand as the small girl poured some into his hands and she gave herself some as well.

 “Good.” Sakusa said, pulling his mask from his pocket to put it back on. The little girl grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. You knew this was way out of his comfort zone, but he was still doing it. 

 “Omg your hair is so cute! Can I touch it?” You whipped your head around to see a young bubbly girl talking to Hinata. 

 “Umm s—s sure.” He said nervously as the girl ran and hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. The poor baby seemed so embarrassed. The dance floor was filled with couples and the girl dragged Hinata to the dance floor before he could even get her name. You turned to Atsumu who looked like he had seen a ghost.

 “Young man I’m getting my money's worth tonight so let's go dance.” An old lady who you thought resemble Baba Yaga from spirited away stood in front of poor Atsumu. 

 “Yes ma’am.” He said, forcing a smile.  He looked at you pleasing eyes that screamed “please save me Y/N”. You shook your head at him.

 “Pay attention to me boy, I paid good money for you.” The old lady said whacking Atsumu with the cane she carried.

 “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He said walking with the old woman to the dance floor. You had to turn your head and laugh, between Sakusa getting stuck babysitting a kid and Atsumu being stuck with a senior citizen after talking all that smack, it was priceless. You guess them ladies Atsumu talked to must not have liked him that much.

You searched around for Bokuto to make sure he got his date for the night, you were also curious who she was and how pretty she was. You felt that jealousy creep back on you. This was going to be a long night. You finally spot Bokuto talking to a drop dead beautiful girl, she looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place her. She and Bokuto seemed to be having a good time, she was laughing at something he had said. Your heart shattered. You look back up to see Bo making eye contact with you. All you could do was smile and get lost in the crowd before he could see the stray tear falling down your cheek. You needed to get outside for a bit, you felt like you were suffocating. You fought the crowd and finally made your way to the exit. You pushed the metal door open. The cold night felt good against your hot skin. You walked down a path in front of the building and tried to collect yourself. 

 “Another year alone and single.” You blurted out to yourself. You find a small bench and decide to sit down for a bit. The night sky brought a sort of comfort to you. The stars twinkled and the moon casted a peaceful light. The cold was getting to you but you were afraid to go back in. You mentally couldn’t handle it. 

 “PARKOUR.” You felt your soul leave your body as you saw a shadow jump over the bench you were sitting on. You flinched back ready to fight off the attacker only to be met with Bokuto standing in front.

 “BO you scared me to death!” You said inhaling a deep breath and clutching your chest.

 “I’m sorry my parkour was so awesome it scared you.” He said, taking his jacket off and draping it yet again around your cold body. Your nose flooded again with the scent of his cologne. It’s calmed you down in a bittersweet way. “But angel what are you doing out here, you’ll get sick if you're not careful.” He kneeled down a bit and pulled the jacket around your cold body more. 

 “I could ask you the same things Mr. Parkour, you have a beautiful woman in there waiting on you, so stop wasting your time on me.” You said trying to hold it together.

 “Well I’m more concerned with the real beautiful one sitting right in front of me.” He said grabbing your shaking hands. Your eyes went wide with what he said.

 “Bo I’m confused?” You said looking into his golden eyes.

 “Well that woman you saw me with is not really my date, yes she did bid on me, but she was never my real date. She is actually the guy who owns our gym's daughter! She agreed to bid on me, but in return she wanted a date with Atsumu’s brother and he agreed to do it! The team helped me do this so I could be with you tonight, but I guess it didn’t go as smoothly as I planned. I’m sorry I made you sad.” Bokuto sat beside you on the bench,

 “Bokuto are you low key confessing to me?” You looked over at him and he smiled and shook his head. 

 “Yes and let me do this properly.” He cleared his throat and held his hand out for you to grab, which you gladly accepted. “Y/N please let me be your date tonight and from here on out please!”  

 “So like boyfriend and girlfriend Bo?” You said wanting to make sure you got the message right.

 “Yes Y/N, please be my girlfriend. All that flexin on the stage was for you baby!” He stood up and flexed again making you laugh. “But in all seriousness, I freakin love you. So what do you say Y/N?” 

 “Yes. I would love nothing mo-“ Bokuto cut you off by lifting your body into his strong arms. You giggled as he swung you both in circles. He slowed down and seen you finally smile again

 “Now that’s a pretty sight, you're not going to be sad on my watch anymore. Now we better get back inside before we freeze to death!” Bokuto wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two began to walk back. “Wait I have something for you!” He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small jewelry box and handed it to you. You opened it and there was a necklace with a small owl charm and a “B” charm next to it.

 “Bo this is so cute! Can you help me put it on!” You said handing him the necklace. He struggled to get it on but finally got it. The silver was cold on your skin, but you didn’t mind at all.

 “Omi actually helped me pick it out, believe it or not. He said if I would have went alone I would have got something stupid.” Bokuto said, sliding the jewelry box back into his coat pocket. You hate to admit it but Sakusa going was probably a good thing. 

 “Bo I really love it, thank you.” You said leaving up and kissing his cheek. “Now let’s go back, I’ve got to check in on everyone.” You walked into the ballroom with your arm hooked around Bokuto’s bicep. 

You scanned the room to see if you could find any of the guys and the only one you could see was Hinata laughing with his date. They seemed to be hitting it off pretty good. “Bokuto let’s go get something to drink.” You both walked towards the bar, you see that girl who bid on Bokuto sitting next to Osamu. They both seemed to be having a good time.

 “Thank you again! The planned worked Y/N is my girlfriend now!” Bokuto walked up to them and showed you off. 

 “I’m so glad!” The girl said, clasping her hands together. “You are a cute couple.” 

 “Speaking of a cute couple.” Osamu chimed in and pointed towards his brother Atsumu who was being dragged around by that old lady. “I may have given her some free Onigiri vouchers and a few hundred yen to bid on him.” The twin laughed at his brother's despair. 

 “Your evil, but I like it.” The girl said as they clinked their drinks together. 

 “You guys enjoy it, we still have to hunt for Omi.” You bowed and clung back on to Bokuto. 

After circulating the ballroom a few times you finally find Sakusa and the little girl sitting at a table. Sakusa looked dead tired and the little girl was stuffing her face with cake

 “Omi you look like a tired dad.” Bokuto said bursting out laughing at his teammate. 

 “I see your plan worked.” Sakusa said, looking at the necklace through tired eyes. 

 “Yes it did now this cutie is all mine.” Bokuto said peppering your cheek with kisses.

 “How disgusting, when you grow up don’t date idiots like him.” Sakusa looked at the child who just nodded her head. It was hilarious to see Omi so out of his element. “That was directed at you Bokuto not Y/N.” 

 “Omi, he is a idiot but he is my idiot.” You patted Bokuto's back. 

 “Omi-Omi let’s go dance some more. I like this song.” The little girl tugged on his jacket. 

 “Fine.” Omi sighed and followed her dance floor.

 “Now that we know everyone (for the most part) is okay let’s dance!” You said leading Bokuto to the dance floor.

 You danced to every single song and Bo didn’t break anything when the cha cha slide came on. He swung you around all night without a care in the world. 

 “Let’s end the night with something nice and slow.” The Dj said putting on (Insert your favorite slow song)

  “May I have this dance pretty girl?” Bokuto asked, holding his hand out to pull you closer to him.

 “The Macarena may have wore me out, but I guess I have enough wind in me for one last song.” You teased wrapping your arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and began to slowly dance you around the room. 

 You see that little girl struggling to keep up with Omi’s big steps as he attempted to dance with her, he was at least trying you thought. Hinata was slow dancing with his date of the night, they both seemed comfortable and content with each other. Atsumu was still with that granny but he seemed to have accepted defeat as he danced around with her. Osamu danced with the gym owner's daughter and made it a mission to kick his brother when they got close enough, he even messed him up enough to cause the old to hit him with the cane again. You felt Bokuto's grip tighten and he dipped you down enough to finally kiss you on the lips. He pulled away and brought you back up to continue dancing. 

“ I love you Y/N.” Bokuto spoke softly in your ear. 

 “I love you too.” You said as the song faded out.

   “And one more thing Y/N” Bokuto said, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I told you I would have the most beautiful girl here.”

Fin

[runningwithhellhounds]

Theo, across recent timescapes. Theo x life: a series of impressions.

Theo is an invasive agent in Hayden's sensory collection. She's trying to not pay him any mind.

She also tried to erase his self-importance by pretending he didn't exist when she knew he watched with his bridge-burn eyes as she and Liam kissed. Found success in his uncharacteristic silence in a moment that was ruinable.

They are standing in dappled shadows on the forest ground, waiting for Liam, who ran ahead to make a call out of Theo's earshot. Theo is sitting by a tree with his knees up and loosely spread, with his hands in between them. His hands, chained: it's simplest hazard control. Effective, though. Hayden feels spiteful as she's walking left to right, throwing a palm-sized rock from hand to hand. Theo looks bored, irked.

''Where are you going to, little Red Riding Hood?'' Theo addresses her, smooth to self-entertain, making her stop mid-throw, causing the rock to hit her palm and fall on the ground. She picks it up and mimes throwing it at him. Success unfound, in how he doesn't flinch. Success unfound, in how he's making this into a story about a little girl and a sneaky wolf.

She considers him. If answering at all would cater to his amusement, or lesser his situational unpleasantries, which she's trying to avoid. But Theo is in the midway of doing nothing and determined to draw attention to himself, the way he has been.

''We're out of flowers, I'm afraid. Would you like some redwood wood, instead?'' Theo offers in a made-pleasant public service voice. Hayden notices that he's siding with the forest, here, scuttling into its floors where he has found purchase through extended stay.

''You know all the tree species?'' Hayden asks. Takes a bite and wills it into a treat for herself, rather than bait. Theo probably meant the tall and non-wiggly tree he's sitting against; Hayden wonders if he ever studied forestry, or if this is werewolfery knowledge.

''I know better things, too. If you come closer, I'll whisper them to you.'' He grins. Lifts his chained wrists as he adds, ''No pressure, though.''

Hayden considers him. Again and again. This is, she guesses, learnt prudency; a refined taste for justice, maybe. Guesses resurrection does that to you.

''Warning, beware of dog,'' she says.

Theo looks at her, eyes hooding and mouth neutralising. He shrugs, looks sideways. Attention, lost. Trade, declined. Secretful threat traded for blankness, if anything. Hayden, it seems, does not entertain in Theo-ways.

—

Theo Raeken, it turns out, has a finitude to his spread of catastrophe. Sheriff Stilinski watches cross-armed as running-mouth-boy exposes the culprits of murder; aggravates them like it's his best expertise until they say things they tried not to say and so saves his own slate from police-worthy additions.

Stilinski watches as Theo, for some inexplicable reason, lingers in the police department. Theo is sitting on one of the reception benches, eating a bag of mixed nuts from the vending machine. One would think it's ill-advised, that as soon as Parrish released him, Theo asked Parrish to buy him some goods from the vending machine, said he was detained unfairly. Deprived of food for this short but uneasy time. Didn't have his belongings on him. But it mustn't be nonsensical; it must be some behavioural tactic of making himself appear unconcerned. As having clear consciousness, innocence, all of those.

Stilinski resumes watching through the screen as Theo's chewing slows down when an officer with a police dog walks to the machine. He watches Theo's frowned, suffering, doubtful expression, staring into the dog's eyes like he can't take the dog seriously. The officer stops fishing change out of his wallet with a metal scoop in his cupped hand to shoot Theo a questioning look.

''Everything alright, son?'' the officer jingles the change in his hand, looking Theo over.

Theo's gaze doesn't even change when he looks up. Doesn't turn into a stranglehold of a gaze, either. ''Does your dog bite?''

The officer considers Theo, the sagged, unruffled spectre of him.

''No need to worry,'' he assures. Starts inserting the coins. He then turns to Theo in an afterthought. ''Is someone picking you up? You need anything?''

''Oh,'' Theo breathes, ''for real? Would you? Just something to eat? I've been stuck here waiting.''

Stilinski watches as Theo picks up a protein bar from the machine drawer. Flavoured water, a second later. Probably, apathy comes easily to him. He must not think in any understandable way; rather, he must think unfeelingly. Kid's got— not a care in the world.

—

Liam is holding a bouquet and inspecting its flowery contents. Frowning at the petals he's scraping at, glowering at the buds he's poking.

In the aftermath of the ceremony ran on the anniversary of Liam's school in the decorated sports hall, his mother is standing by the chairs in unison with another boy watching her son.

She knows him from a photo Liam showed her, a boy new in the school, softly named: Theo. It was evident that Liam took the photo discreetly, which she commented on and which Liam denied. She notes the distance at which Theo keeping and approaches him.

''Don't worry, he's not keeping secrets from his friends,'' she says. ''He doesn't have a girlfriend, at least not that I know of. I was the one who gave him the flowers.''

''Oh?'' Theo says. ''I see.''

He puts his hands in his pockets. He's probably shy. This happens sometimes, with high-school boys, they can become clumsy with themselves. She feels motherly talking to them in moments like this; motherly and pleasant in her efforts to engage adolescents when they are dithering.

''I think he's reconciling masculinity with flowers,'' she comments.

He smiles. Smirks, more like it. They must be close.

''Good colour choice,'' he comments on the orange of the flowers.

She nudges his arm. ''Go talk to him when they're done taking photos.''

Theo shakes his head, shrugs once. ''Nah. I will be leaving soon, anyway,'' he says, and she drops her hand from his arm. He's probably a little shy.

—

Mediterranean sunrise comes with a surprise: a man awakening on the ground a few steps from the barely-formed footpath. A man, or maybe younger, his Mediterranean awakening accompanied by the smell of fig trees, and all. Kind red soil.

He's naked. He's slowly wiping a hand across his lips. You know, suddenly, that this is a complication. The circumstance makes his body looks like an involuntarily stripped body. Perspective changes: red soil is now needled soil. Acrid tones sour the sunrise.

''Hey,'' you call, stepping closer in your sandals and a coral-printed towel around your neck, feeling unsuitable for the demands of the situation. ''Hey. Are you okay? Should I call the police?''

He's pushing himself up. Not looking at you. Not mindful of the resin at his back. This is indicative, you think, of something, because you're mindful of the way road dust is making your hair dry and webby, while his attention is this narrow, or overall absent.

He looks up, then, at you. ''What?''

A surprise gifted by a foreign agency; not Italian, then. You switch to English and try to make it not clumsy.

''I'll call the police for you,'' you assure him. Scramble to find your phone in your tote bag.

''D'n't call th'police,'' he says. He isn't trying to cover where his body is exposed.

''I don't want to assume anything,'' you say, feeling odd and performative. ''But— Look. I can just call the emergency number and they can direct you to a centre for sexual assault.''

Body, bodily manuscripted into the soft soil. He looks like he's processing slowly. Gets distracted inspecting his hands. Is that blood, you wonder, realise, really, it all just getting worse and fraughter. In between his fingers.

''Don't call th'police,'' he says. ''Was jus' drunk.''

''Is that blood? On your fingers.''

''I jus'. D'n't call. Did s'me things I shouldn't have.'' He reads your face, then says, ''Not like that. T'myself.''

Heat is lowering to the grounds of the morning and your sandals are light on your feet, escape-hairs pleasant, pine trees your favourite. And the hostility-seen boy is trying to act alright.

''It's okay,'' you say, wondering if it is; something complicated about the okayness of not-okay. You squat down, to balance the eye heights. ''I can call the hotline for—''

''No, n't—. Just stupid, no police. Please.''

''Do you want some water,'' you say, taking it out of your bag, and he takes it. Uncaps and smells it, blinking with his nose above the bottle opening, before he shakes his head a little, and starts drinking. Your phone is still in your hand, but you're unsure. You give him your second non-swimly shorts and wait until he overcomes his hesitance and gingerly takes them.

''You don't have to tell me,'' you insist. ''But I'm sure that there's someone who—''

''Thanks. It's okay, you can go now.'' He starts moving to get the shorts on, then swiftly straightens his back, inhaling deeply and looking up. Must be avoiding some hidden ache.

You hesitate, phone in your hand, legs starting to feel stiff from the position.

''I could drive you someplace. My car is ten min—''

''Thanks, but I'm okay now. You can't help,'' he interrupts. There are cases like this one, right, people using caustic means for secret-maintaining ends.

''Are you sure?'' you press. ''I could go away while you're talking to—''

''You're not helping,'' he says, monotone now, now operative and controlled to be alkaline. He's looking at your eyes fixedly, and you stop hesitating. ''You should go.''

Ground gives. You shake your head and start walking away, leaving him with your shorts and thinking then good fucking luck, honey.

You turn back one more time. He's looking at you leaving with unfocused glossy eyes, and you wonder, surely not for the last time, how deeply and stickily swamp-lodged he must be.

—

A hot guy is walking in the chest-high sea and doing little dives. Grazing the water surface with his fingertips in between and wiping salt from his eyes, before diving again and re-salting his eyes, like some deliberately mindless-seeming cyclical mechanism. Salt for maintenance, salt a nuisance.

Now he bends his knees and only submerges up to his chin, and you imagine he's sensing freshness at his nape.

''You just have to relax,'' you say loudly from where you come to stand in the water to your ankles, ''and you can probably hold your breath for longer than that.''

He stands up and turns until he spots you. You walk closer until the water is at your waist and he's looking at you like someone unexpectedly interrupted. Unexpectedly perceived, unfortunately. A popular kid being addressed by an unpopular one.

''You wanna teach me how to swim?'' he asks and smirks a little, and you shrug.

''If you feel like you can't stay underwater for more than five seconds, it's probably because you're panicking. You can hold your breath comfortably for at least fifteen seconds, I dare say.''

He looks at the glistening in the water, looking weary.

''Can I,'' he says, more of a response made to be unrevealing than a question.

''One thing I'll say,'' you say, untying your hair to avoid breaking it when it will be wet and to be casual, maybe; mitigate the upfrontness and possible insinuation, ''is that your body looks mad functional. Don't take this in any funky way.''

''I won't,'' he says.

—

Theo is in no space. Some telephone line space.

Should I be taking this personally, Liam texts him. He knows that Theo has been straightforwardly ignoring his messages. He hopes, actually; hopes Theo hasn't run into any of his long-known non-friends who see his face as a face, fanged, and not eyes, often confused, tongue, often tied, responses, often belated. Hopes that Theo isn't not answering because of some surviving anachronism from his past, but rather because of something new. That would be more manageable.

He also hopes that Theo isn't not answering because he is succumbing to his self-damaging instincts, even though that would mean simmering resentment towards Liam; even though that would likely be the best possible option in the precarious array of options in Theo's life.

Liam texts, did you know that if space was infinitely big and infinitely old, it would be white? I don't really get why, do you?

—

You have a boy couched in your living room. His name is Theo. Picked him up on a staff-only fire escape. It would be a leisurely sight, now, a tracksuit-hoodie-boy sitting right next to a drying rack, which he said he didn't mind. If it wasn't for your rapid heart. Heart: heated, speaking in unit-free measures. Heat: a smooth, unfibrous thing.

''May I,'' he murmurs, and you lean in.

It's a classic student situation: a breathless undertaking to the backtune of wine in tea mugs. He selected a Sierra Nevada mug with a setting sun. Came with the flat.

''Add me on Facebook,'' you say. The two of you haven't even done much, but you feel so hooked, by the fire-escape boy who moves in a way so self-assured and touches indoor objects warily. ''Or Instagram. Wherever you want.''

''I don't use social media,'' he says. He uses his hold on your hand and your finger to push his hair out of his eye. You like the way it parts and hits his temples.

''Phone number?'' You suggest, more joking than not. Exchanging phone numbers feel more joke-like than not.

''No phone number,'' he says. Must see your expression, shrugs and says, ''Guess I'm too old for technology.'' He smirks at the dry look you shoot at him, knowing your age of twenty-three to his twenty-two. He's saying too old and you don't buy it. He carries no weariness in his jaguar body. He takes his lower lip in his mouth. ''What if,'' he then says, ''I'm a vampire.'' He touches the tip of his tongue to his upper teeth.

''My favourite paranormal activity,'' you say.

''Too bad,'' he says, grinning. You look at his ajar lips and think: too bad.

''Your canines are sharp, though,'' you say. ''At least.''

He grins wide. Pointedly and slowly leans towards your neck with an open mouth, until teeth make contact. You feel your smile dropping when his phone beeps. He hesitates for a beat and then leans his forehead on your chin, just breathing there, and you know you are both thinking about him saying no phone number.

''But none for me,'' you say. Because of all the places your bodies have been touching, a beat of silence means: five heartbeats of him staring at his phone, engulfed in the jacket he discarded on the floor by the couch, and you staring at him. And then he leans over, easily shifting your weight, until he can kick the jacket, some, not really achieving anything.

''Another vampire,'' he says, then, on the side of unapologetic. Luckily, you are known to be unresentful. Good at not taking things personally. ''From another brood.'' He places his hands back on your hips.

''Hm,'' you say.  It's fine. The monomania of the green-eye boy is temporary. He's hot, but your desire never lasts, anyway.

—

There's a guy on your bus ride, on the opposite side of the passage, one seat forward. Your age. You noticed the generic niceness of his face.

He's drawing a sinusoidal curve on the fogged window. Moves his hand further right, where the window is still fogged. Starts drawing vertical lines, carefully, some methodology to it, the lines parallel to each other. He pauses after he draws four. Huffs, twists his smile into one that is hiding and downturned. He crosses the four lines with one that is horizontal, then adds another vertical line to the side.

You feel yourself smile. He drops his hand, shakes his head a little. Looks through the window at the frost-covered barren brown fields, away from his prisoner day-count. It's funny. He's funny. You look away.

—

It's a short, crude thing. Like this:

A fictitious boy stumbles out of a bare-walled building. Languid, unrestful body. Unleisurely, water-logged body. A tired backstreet play-doh thing. Young.

''Hey,'' you call. ''You. You good?''

The night is warm, humid. A post-rain road construction night. A night for cicadas, if you drive further out.

He inhales in the way of catching breath. Squints at his watch, eyes go glassy. Looks at the moon overhead, then squints at you. And you— you feel awake now.

You look him over, the sugarburn boy with a backwards baseball cap. The trouble of a tooth cavity, which means: okay, if you have some money. Some reckless uncare, too. He's watching you. You inhale slowly, but it turns out all tell-tale anyway. He must see the appeal you feel, in how he licks his lips and tilts his head.

''Interested?'' he asks.

You hesitate. Feel for your jacket pocket with your wallet in it. Lift it without taking it out, clear enough.

He nods. Clears his throat.

''Can you play nice?'' he asks. Teasing, but also not.

You can.

He nods. Looks at his watch. You follow him.

—

You pick up your pretend-sugar fake-care service by a closed ice-cream stand, its inviting light sign shining red on his face. It's raining lightly when you pull up and he doesn't have his hood up like he knows the wet hair strands sticking to his forehead make him look good. In the car, he has no song requests when you ask.

''How can I service you?'' he asks.

—

''What should I call you,'' you ask.

''No need to call me,'' he says.

''What if I want to,'' you admit. Not subtle and elusive. If I may be so bold as to in the back of your mouth.

He pauses, thinks. His gaze is saccading empty spot to empty spot and you know the only type of name you'll get is a fake. You'll take it, as a consolation purchase.

''Theo,'' he says.

—

Alec answers the knock with a toothbrush in his hand.

''Theo. Jesus,'' he breathes.

''Hello,'' Theo responds, overly carefully-crafted for the simplicity of a greeting, but Theo has never carried himself as though he was simple. ''I brought you those,'' he hands Alec paper sheets folded in half. ''I got my hands on some werewolves. Could you give those to Scott?''

It's more automatic than not, when Alec takes and unfolds them. They are black-and-white prints of photographs of ID's.

''You did?'' Alec says, still dumbfounded, still in the act of being interrupted. Habit-mindedness sliced in half. ''How?''

Theo shrugs. His face furrows for a beat, then he fiddles with the door handle, pushing it down twice.

Alec looks at the goods in his hands: a toothbrush, werewolfy profiles. ''Do you want me to tell him that they're from you?''

Theo looks conflicted. That's fair; it's a conflicting state of circumstances, or what is it that Liam told Alec. Maybe Theo turned to Alec because of the implied similarity: both well-accustomed to doing what it takes. Maybe Theo is finding some comfort in that; like Alec would recognise that Theo is a runaway object, or a throwaway one, only having made himself a weapon because he had been made into one first. Like Alec would recognise that Theo is trying to pay his dues. Or maybe Alec is misjudging and Theo isn't seeking comfort at all, which is what Malia thinks. Guess Alec is a little soft for softer scenarios.

''Jesus,'' Alec says again. ''You were gone so long. You didn't say anything. Have you—'' He hesitates, frowns a little. ''Does—Ah, well, you know. Does Liam know?'' He was going for tentative with this one before he swerved. Tending to the habits of skittish wolves.

Theo is looking past Alec's shoulder, distanced and glassy. Alec thinks of dolls, their eyes amiss in that they are unseeing and custom-built. It's a thought too cruel, unless it's sympathetic.

Theo shakes his head, slowly, and exhales, touches his temples with his index fingers, then drops them lower and presses them over his jaw muscles.

''TMJ pain?'' Alec asks.

Theo drops his hands. ''What?''

''Oh. The jaw joint,'' Alec points to his own.

Theo shrugs. ''It's just tender. This muscle,'' he taps.

''Have you been stressed? TMJ problems are common for young people. Can happen because of stress. Stress can cause teeth grinding.'' A clumsy explanation, but Alec can't re-order its parts now, just hopes Theo takes it. Hopes Theo makes his skin onion peel and shows something less dry underneath. And Theo:

Theo looks at him expressionlessly, for a beat, and then exaggeratedly sad-faces. Pouts, closes his eyes, nods slowly. ''I've been stressed,'' he says.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32225941

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

That’s Christmas To Me| Julie and The Phantoms Cast

Dream-a-little-bigger-x’s Countdown to Christmas 

Day 4 

A/N: I got so excited when I saw this one was the next one I had to write! I hope you enjoy! I also wanna thank @calamitykaty​, @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​, @vrthngiwnt​ and @bright-molina​ for letting me pick your brains and bounce some ideas off of you. I love you loads! 

Pairing: Platonic! JATP Cast x fem!reader

Summary: 2022, season 2 was about to be released on Netflix and the cast was invited to promote the show on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. A dream come true. When the host asks them for their favorite holiday memory together, the cast immediately flashes back to that time at the Christmas Markets. 

Song(s) used: That’s Christmas To Me - Pentatonix | Happy Xmas (War is Over) - Echosmith ft. Hunter Hayes

Warnings: Spiked hot chocolates, but no one gets drunk and no one drinking is underage. 

Words:  3,970

Checking her outfit in the full-length mirror once again, y/n sighed nervously. All dressed out to the max for her very first talk show. Her styling team had outdone themselves once again. The gold flared pants, the white satin button down shirt and the white heels just made her feel so fabulous. 

Though she couldn’t deny the fact that she was nervous. She was going on a live show, not any live show, but the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, nonetheless. Her family watched that show religiously every single night. That thought did not calm her down either. 

A soft knock made her snap out of her thoughts and turn around to find Madison in the doorway with an excited smile on her face. “You look gorgeous!” she exclaimed excitedly and ran up to her newest best friend, engulfing her into a tight hug. 

She was sporting a gray glittery jumpsuit with black pumps strapped on her feet, her makeup done beautifully and her natural curls flowing over her shoulders with bejeweled clips pulling it out of her face. 

“So do you!” y/n retorted with the brightest smile she could muster, though Madison could see right through her and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “My heart is thumping.” The words came out in a whisper as though she was telling a secret. 

“So is mine, but we can do this. We got each other, okay?” 

Y/N and Madison had gotten along straight away the first day y/n came to set. It was nerve-wracking to weasel yourself into a tight group of cast members who’ve already spent two years working together, but they made it so agreeable. The first day, Madison and Owen came up to her and started bombarding her with so many questions about herself and her character. All she knew about the latter was that she’d be Reggie’s love interest and the villain’s niece who worked for him to try and get Reggie, Luke and Alex into his club. Which of course, would not work out as y/n’s character would fall for the bassist too. 

The entire cast welcomed her into their group straight away and the whole process became so enjoyable to the point where it just didn’t feel like work anymore. It just felt like spending time with friends and trying to memorize words and songs at the same time. It was weird. But so much fun. And now, they were able to finally promote said season. 

“Madison, y/n, time to go,” one of the show runners said to them when he passed y/n’s dressing room. The two girls nodded and after a simultaneous deep inhale and exhale of stress, they made their way to the hallway where the boys were waiting. 

Charlie and Jeremy offered y/n a wide smile to ease her nerves a little before Charlie held out his hand in front of him. “We got this. Legends on three?” The others nodded and, with a content smile on her face, y/n placed her hand on top of Charlie’s. 

“One,” said Charlie. 

“Two,” Jeremy and Madison added in unison. 

“Three!” Owen and y/n finished and all five their hands went up in the air as they yelled out “Legends!” Though it was scary, y/n knew she had four amazing people that would guide her through it. 

“Please, welcome the cast of Julie and The Phantoms!” Jimmy introduced them and, while the Roots played the infamous intro song, the cast walked through the red curtain. Madison and y/n ahead, holding one another’s hands as to not fall in their heels, then followed Charlie, Jeremy and Owen. 

The audience cheered and applauded until they sat down and the music faded away. “Welcome, welcome!” Jimmy said excitedly. “Thank you for being here!” The cast beamed at the host, unable to contain their excitement nor nerves. 

“Thanks for having us,” said Charlie, the polite Canadian. 

“So, exciting news, season two of your show Julie and The Phantoms premieres on Netflix tonight, is that correct?” 

“Yes!” all five said, though not quite in unison, and the crowd roared again. Y/N couldn’t hide the smile on her red painted lips as she looked out into the sea of people. 

Jimmy turned to the crowd, “If the people at home have never heard of your show, how would you explain it?” His eyes fell on the girl closest to his desk, which was Madison, allowing her to answer the question. 

“Uhm… Julie and The Phantoms is about this girl, Julie, who tragically lost her mom and, with it, her love for music. That is until one day, she plays this old CD she finds and out pop these three lovable, dorky ghosts who used to be in a band in the 90’s, called Sunset Curve. They died when they ate bad hot dogs--” the crowd let out a laugh, and it made Madison chuckle too. “Yeah! -- Anyway, and so these boys kind of help her find her love for music again and they form a band, called Julie and The Phantoms as the audience can see the ghosts when they play with Julie. And a lot of things happen and it’s funny and light and cute!” 

Jimmy let out a chuckle too, “And now there’s a season 2!” Another cheer erupted from the crowd. “What can you tell us about season 2, Charlie?” he directed the question to the boy next to the newbee. 

“A lot happens! We see what happens with Nick and Caleb, and we meet Philippa, Pips, Covington who will stir up some crazy stuff in the boys’ lives, especially Reggie’s,” he explained with a grin. He stirred in his seat a little before placing his arm on the back of the couch, behind y/n’s head. The girl tried not to react to the overwhelmingly amazing scent of sandalwood that emanated from this movement. 

Jimmy’s eyes landed on y/n and she was certain that for a moment, he knew what she was thinking, but then he asked her a question instead. “How was it for you, y/n, as the newcomer to the cast? Did they immediately embrace you or did  you have trouble being accepted?” 

“I hated it--” she replied seriously,  but then giggled, “No, I loved it! They were so kind and so welcoming, I immediately felt like I was part of their tight group. It did feel strange at first, I’m not gonna lie. But after a while, coming to work didn’t really feel like working anymore.” 

“And your character, Phillipa, was she accepted by the other characters?” 

She cleared her throat of any nerves before answering. “Pippa was… well-- she was working for her dead great-uncle, so she had to make sure she was accepted and weasled herself into the friend group pretty quickly. She knew how to get to Reggie especially and thanks to him, got into their friend group.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so excited to watch! My daughters are eight and nine, and they loved season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. They’re thrilled to see the new season!” 

A chorus of “aw”s were shared within the cast as well as throughout the audience. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.” He picked up his cue cards to remind himself of the next bullet point he needed to talk about. “Oh! Since it’s almost Christmas, I like to ask my guests to tell us a fun holiday themed story before I send them off, do you guys have a fun holiday themed story for us?” 

The cast exchange glances until Owen asked, “Should we talk about the Christmas market we did last year after filming?” The rest of the cast made sounds of agreement with a few giggles mixed in between. 

“Tell us about the Christmas Market!” Jimmy shouted excitedly, almost resembling a five-year-old getting their Christmas presents early. 

Owen took the lead on this one. “So, we were all in Vancouver, we had wrapped season 2 and we would soon be going home, but we decided to spend one last night together at a Christmas market in Vancouver city…”    

Bundled up in layers of sweaters and a thick coat, y/n trekked through the layer of snow that blanketed to grounds of Vancouver City. She was trying her hardest not to focus on the blistering cold that nipped at her nose but rather on the story Charlie was telling the others in front of her. His voice boomed into the busy streets, along with the others’ laughter. 

She always loved the way Charlie told his stories about every wild adventure he’d ever been on and the way Owen quipped back with the wittiest of comebacks. Or how Madison would chime in with her typical Gen Z humor none of the boys understood. Y/N was sure going to miss the entire dynamic of the group when they were back home. 

Thousands of lights flickered above y/n’s head as they strolled through the entrance of the infamous Vancouver Christmas Market. She let her eyes take in the beauty whilst her stomach fluttered from excitement. Her love for Christmas Markets had never faltered over the years. It still excited her in the same way it did when she was just a child. 

“Can we get a hot chocolate first? I’m freezing!” Savannah suggested, her teeth chattering as she snuggled into her thick scarf. Smiling, y/n hooked her arm around hers and pulled her closer in hopes the warmth of all her layers would help the blonde girl a little. 

“I heard they have a unique recipe that only the Christmas Market here ever uses!” Charlie added with a wide grin before leading the gang towards the warm beverage kiosk. It resembled a cabin from a ski resort, decked out all the way with Christmas lights and foliage. 

The group stood in front of the kiosk and read the menu to figure out whatever they’d want to drink. “Ooh, that Peppermint Hot Chocolate sounds delish,” Owen said, and when y/n’s eyes landed on the words, her mouth curled up into a smirk. 

“We’re going that route tonight, hm?” 

The hot chocolate he was talking about was spiked with peppermint schnapps and chocolate liqueur. This sounded right up y/n’s street, and she knew it would warm Savannah up from the inside. 

“Follow me or don’t follow me, that’s up to you, but I am taking that route tonight.” Owen rubbed his gloved hands together until the lady inside the kiosk looked up at him, signalling that it was his turn to order. “A peppermint hot chocolate, please.” He sounded way too confident for someone who had just turned 21 that year. 

The woman peered over her half-moon glasses, letting her eyes glide from his eyes to his toes before sneering, “ID, please.” Owen’s mouth dropped open and with a lot of cursing underneath his breath, he reached for his wallet. 

“Ha! Owen’s getting ID’d!” Charlie cackled, shaking his head. The woman’s eyes darted over to the second boy, giving him the same one-up before raising her eyebrows as if saying “I’m gonna get you too, little boy”. 

And she did. She ID’d Charlie too. No one else but Charlie and Owen, which everyone had a good laugh at as they were sipping their hot chocolates, which for three out of ten isn’t spiked. 

While Jeremy and Booboo were still teasing the two boys, y/n turned around and let her eyes scan the entire view in front of her. All the pretty lights and the snow whirling to the ground so gracefully and the music floating through the air made the cold more bearable. 

A gasp eliciting from Jadah’s tiny body made y/n snap out of her thoughts and turn to the younger cast member. Her eyes were wide and shimmering, looking up at the tall Christmas tree that was towering above their heads with tens of thousands of lights blinking back at them. 

“Isn’t that the walk-through Christmas tree?!” she asked, excitedly. 

Madison took her hand and, giggling, they weaved through the sea of people towards the one-of-a-kind festive fairyland. Y/N exchanged glances with the rest before they, too, made a beeline towards the tree, dodging people left and right. 

“Hey, Owen, are you sure you’re gonna be able to fit?” y/n asked the tall Oklahoman teasingly. The boy’s mouth dropped open, and before she could properly register it, he started chasing her. She ran past Madison and Jadah, and tried to duck behind any other visitor until he eventually picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. The girl shrieked, prior to a giggle.  

Jimmy’s voice echoed over y/n’s flashback to the most festive night of that year. “You guys really sound like a close group of friends.” 

“Yeah! We are! We’re like a little family!” Charlie replied, dropping the arm that was on the back of the sofa around the girl’s shoulder. 

“What happened next?” Jimmy then questioned, curiously. The whole scene almost resembled a toddler listening to his bedtime story. 

Jeremy cleared his throat with a chuckle. “Well, if this night were a movie, you’d now have a cute montage of us going through that magical tree and on the carousel like little children.” 

“Yeah, you’d see us stuff our faces with churros and pretzels,” y/n added, making Jimmy and the crowd laugh. 

“And we got a lot of Christmas shopping done too!” Madison chimed in with a smile. “I actually got everyone’s present when they were right there with me. None of them noticed.” 

“Oh, no, I noticed,” y/n replied with a smirk, to which Madison reacted with widened eyes. 

“What’s next?!” Jimmy queried. His eyes were glistening as he listened to the cast talk. He just loved their dynamic and how well they got along with one another. 

Y/N continued the story as her mind tumbled back into her daydream. 

The music had stopped just a few minutes ago, but only now y/n’s ears picked up on the sudden absence. Knitting her eyebrows together, she lifted her eyes to the stage in the corner of the market where singers were carolling minutes ago, and was now completely empty. As the small amount of alcohol made her brain a little woozy, her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip in thought. 

“Guys… Should we--Should we go sing a song?” she suggested, causing all of them to look up in surprise. “There’s no one on the stage… Should we?” she pointed at the podium to emphasize what she meant. 

As smiles appeared on each of their faces, the group walked up to the stage and grabbed a microphone each. Charlie reached for the acoustic guitar on the stand, but y/n stopped him. 

“Let’s do a capella for once?” she told him tenderly. 

When his eyes met hers, she felt her lungs expand with the gasp that left her body. How gorgeous could one’s eyes be. But with that one look, the boy also knew what song she wanted to sing. The one song that had been stuck in her head for the past month during filming. And the rest of the crew knew too because when y/n counted them in softly, they all started to sing along. Their voices mingling perfectly and floating throughout the night sky. 

“The fireplace is burning bright, shining all on me I see the presents underneath the good old Christmas tree And I wait all night 'til Santa comes to wake me from my dreams Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Savannah locked eyes with y/n and a smile fell to their lips before they looked out to the audience they had assembled with their harmonies reaching across the entire Christmas Market. 

“I see the children play outside, like angels in the snow While mom and daddy share a kiss under the mistletoe And we'll cherish all these simple things wherever we may be Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Owen came to stand next to y/n and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they all sang the chorus together, the tall blondie on lead vocals and the others harmonizing in the background. 

“I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As though they had prepared the entire performance, Booboo led them into the next verse while the others acted as backing vocals for him. His warm, deep voice sent chills down everyone’s spines, especially of the people in the crowd. 

“I listen for the thud of reindeer walking on the roof As I fall asleep to lullabies, the morning's coming soon”

His cast mates then joined in again and together, they sang the chorus once again with Jeremy taking lead this time. While they did, y/n took a hold of Savannah’s gloved hand, squeezing it as they looked at each other with intent in their eyes. Like they meant what they were singing to one another. 

“The only gift I'll ever need is the joy of family Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Y/N turned her head to the other side now, locking eyes with Tori and Sacha, and shooting them a wink before they lapsed into the chorus one last time. It felt good to sing with everyone for once. During filming, it was always just a select group of people that got to sing together. 

“Oh, the joy that fills our hearts and makes us see Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart I've got the candles glowing in the dark And then for years to come we'll always know one thing That's the love that Christmas can bring Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the group shared an intense look, one that said they were always going to be friends. No matter how far away they’ll be from tomorrow on. Even if they don’t get picked up for a third season, they’re always going to be there for each other and be the best of friends forever. The only gift they’ll ever need is the joy of family. And they were family. 

“That was so beautiful!” Jimmy exclaimed after they’d told him about everything that had happened that night in a short synopsis. “Now, I believe you’re gonna sing for us now?” 

The cast nodded in unison. “Okay, what are you bringing us tonight? The song you sang at the Christmas market?” 

Madison giggled, “No, though we love that song, there’s one we collectively think is one of the greatest Christmas songs ever. It’s the ultimate classic Happy Xmas, War is Over by John Lennon.” 

“Amazing! You can go get ready!” he gestures to the tiled floor in front of the red curtain where the crew had set up their instruments and five microphones for them. “Catch Julie and The Phantoms season 2 on Netflix from tonight! They’re singing for us now. Madison, y/n, Charlie, Jeremy and Owen, take it away!” 

Owen counted them in by slamming his sticks together and then began playing the rhythm of the song. Y/N then chimed in with the jingling of the tambourine before the other boys and Madison joined with their respective instruments. Soon after, Madison’s voice floated through the talk show’s studio. 

“So this is Christmas And what have you done Another year over A new one just begun”

When the girls lock eyes, they shoot one another a wink before y/n takes over the next part of the verse. 

“And so this is Christmas I hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

Then the boys chime in, their voices mingling as they linger in the air for everyone to hear and enjoy. Y/N lets her eyes dart over to Charlie, who’s already looking at her with a smile on his face. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The others shut up, giving Charlie the floor now. He really was born to be a rockstar. The way he just owned the stage and looked like an absolute legend, singing his heart out and playing his guitar like a pro. And he’d only started learning when he was on season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. 

“And so this is Christmas For weak and for strong The rich and the poor ones The world is so wrong”

For a split second, he locked eyes with y/n again as she took over and faced the audience with a smile, still working her little tambourine for the extra jingles. Somehow, this just felt like one of their jam sessions during rehearsals and not at all like it was a live broadcast on national television. 

“And so happy Christmas For black and for white Ooh, for everyone Let's stop all the fights”

Their voices mingled together again, and, in a boost of confidence, y/n grabbed the mic from its stand and walked over to Jeremy, rocking out with him as he shredded on the bass. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The music slowed down, and while Madi, Owen and Jeremy took care of the soft backing vocals, y/n walked over to Charlie and sang the lines to one another, never breaking eye contact. 

“And so this is Christmas And what have we done Another year over A new one just begun”

The music picked back up. Madison took over this time, and while y/n worked her tambourine, she danced her way towards the Latina girl with a smile plastered on her face. 

“And so happy Christmas We hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

She then turned to Owen as he took over on the next part. He shot her a quick wink whilst his mouth curled up on one side. “A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear”

Each taking their turn, starting with Owen, they all sang a part of the backing vocals while the boys and Madison played the instrumental intermezzo. “Merry Christmas” 

“So this is Christmas”

“War is over now” 

Returning back to her spot, y/n placed her mic on the stand again, and along with the others, sang the very last lines of the song. 

“War is over If you want it It’s over now”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause while the band assembled in the middle of the stage. Charlie grabbed y/n’s hand and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. All five of them together took a bow before exchanging knowing glances. 

This time around, they knew they were going to see each other tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that as they were doing all the promo they could. It felt a lot more reassuring than it did that day at the Christmas Market when they had no clue when they’d see each other again. Though all of them knew that this was still the only gift they’ll ever need. Their little found family.  

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​@thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @stars-soph​ @kinda-really-lost​ @notasofti​ @alexpjoyner​ @n0wornever​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @tefilovesreading​ @pxperphxntom​ @crybabyddl​ @parkeret​ @headheartbellarke​ 

Names crossed out are the ones I couldn’t tag. 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[griff-us]

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | one

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.8K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights... what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, just a lot of vmon fluff, sports injury and mentions of blood!

⇢ author’s note(s): eeeep here it is everyone!! the first chapter of my new series!! ive worked super hard on this so im nervous and excited to share :( i hope you guys love it! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

⇢ series masterlist | next

alive.

if there was one word that you would use to describe this feeling, it would be alive. from the second the toepick of your skate touched the ice, your body would always come to light, energy surging through your veins as you drifted across the smooth surface of the rink. you belonged here, you were born here. this was was where you felt at home.

although the space was littered with other skaters, you believe yourself to be alone— the music of your heavily practiced routine filling your mind while you ready your position...head down, arm outstretched and fingertips pointed. rolling your shoulders, you clutch your hand to your chest as the chords of your original soundtrack blast through your thoughts, with a half turn you bend at the back, catching your skate while you twist your body into a layback spin— holding your skate to your head. “catch foot,” you whisper, following the notes of the song— butterfly. it was a short contemporary piece composed by your trainer which you had insisted on using for this competition. as the music flows, you release your grip on your skate and allow it to hit the ice, holding your arms out in a poised manner.

gliding across the ice, you dive into your next movement— the cantilever— bending at the knee and leaning backwards, skates out-turned. you know that move after would require the support from your partner, so you skip it in favour of saving it for the eyes of the judges. hydroblades were always a signature between he and yourself. the song hits a climax in your head, piano notes wafting through lost memories, tangled with practices of routines and you tumble effortlessly into the remaining steps like a flowing waterfall that never stops— the triple axel is the jump that comes after, a difficult manoeuvre through the air...but well known in the skating community as only a few have landed it in contest. skating forward, you put your power into the jump, leaping forward with only two and half rotations, saving the third for the competition and breathing a sigh of relief when you land backwards— just as planned. you move with the grace of a pure white swan, silently slipping into every move, spin and jump as you focus on only the sounds of your blade against the ice.

completing another full turn, you head straight into a sit spin— curling in on yourself as your body lowers to the cool surface of the ice. during a spin, you fyour blades dig into the ice as you come to a halt, exposing yourself to the world once again. breathing laboured from exertion, you outstretch your arms once more and imagine the final chords of your musical piece, ending your routine.

your attention is captured by a round of applause to your left, making you whip your head in search for the sound. a sweet grin graced your lips as you recognise the two men clapping away, causing you to skate over and rest your palms on the boarders of the rink.

“taehyungie,” you sing, leaning over the barriers to ruffle at the thick mass of unruly black locks that curl just above his eyes. the boy only laughs as he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for an awkward hug. his body is warmer compared to the ice, bringing you a sense of homely comfort that you recognise as familiar. “i missed you at practice just now,”

taehyung himself rolls his eyes making it his turn to ruffle your hair. “oh please, you hardly need me! you make a two man routine look good on its own!” he rambles excitedly, body leering over the barrier as if the ice is calling him. taehyung’s dark eyes flitter up to meet yours, an amused chuckle emulating from his lips at your jokingly unimpressed expression. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were a solo skater—“

you huff, letting the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. “you know that i couldn’t ever do this without you, tae— i need you on the ice with me.” you poke at his cheek affectionately, your body lighting up as you spot namjoon, both yours and taehyung’s coach behind the latter. your skating partner catches the change in your expression, turning around to greet namjoon with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

yourself, taehyung and namjoon had known each other for as long as you could remember. you’d met taehyung at your very first skating lesson, in a beginners class when his hair was wild and untamed, a little boy with missing teeth and big bright eyes. as a little girl, you’d thought he’d gotten lost on his way to an ice hockey practice. at the time, namjoon’s father ran the skating company you started under— leaving his son in charge of the beginners class.

the three of you had grown up together; taehyung was your first kiss— promptly realising he wasn’t into girls right after you’d stolen a smooch on the swing set in your backyard after a practice (“yeah...YN, i’m gay.”). and even in high school, the two of you stalking namjoon around hallways as you teased a blushing taehyung about is growing crush on the lankier male. you cradled you’re jubilant friend as he cried when namjoon left for college, his light dimming a bit but you remembered crying harder when the three of you were united four years and a plethora of competitions, medals and skates later.

“well if it isn’t my favourite pair of skaters,” namjoon greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket that proudly shows off the logo of your skating company. “practicing again, YN?”

you see the amusement dancing in your coach’s eyes, he wouldn’t have put it past you to see you on the ice so early in the morning. you’d never relented with your skating, having pushed yourself to win two olympic medals by the time you were nineteen. you were an image of perfection in the skating world, not a scandal or downfall in your entire career— most would find such an achievement quite daunting— losing friends was made easy because of it... but you knew that you had taehyung and namjoon and the love of your family and company, you knew that with that you could achieve anything. “i have to, if i want to be better than taehyung...” you tease and tug on said male’s sleeve. “help me get him on the ice?”

namjoon presses a kiss into the depths of taehyung’s deep ocean locks, sending him off with a whisper that makes him run off to grab his skates before the elder approaches you. “little ice princess, i think i have a gift for you...” namjoon sings sweetly, pulling his phone from his back pocket as you lean over the barrier excitedly.

“you think?”

“i know.”

the elder holds out his device for you to see, the screen lighting up as an unfamiliar caller ID flashes across it. you raise your eyes hesitantly while your coach nods, smile reaching his eyes as you answer the call. a group of beaming faces decorate the screen and your own eyes dance across each and every one of them, recognising them as the boys and girls of moonchild skating company.

“YN!” the skaters cheer, waving excitedly amongst a sea of claps and giggles. “good, luck!”

“thanks you guys,” you whisper sweetly, sparing an appreciative glance at namjoon, you blow kisses to all of your fellow skaters thankfully. you note some of them to be from different ranks in your company; from beginners to juniors and some from different areas of competition— although your heart jumps slightly at the sight of one in particular. “jungkookie...”

“noona!” the boy cheers, scrunching his nose excitedly at the mention of his name. your heart melts as he looks to you with sparkling doe eyes, the younger boy having a special place in your heart— he came to the company bright eyed and shy, there had been a lot of doubt about jungkook’s abilities on the ice because of that. but as soon as he stepped foot on the rink, everyone’s worries drifted away— each of his movements were silken and seamless easily making him one of the best solo skaters in the senior rank, although he was slightly younger than you. you remember catching him after practice one day— he had yet to decide if he wanted to sign up with namjoon and he’d only  stayed behind to watch you run through your routine with taehyung. the bumbling boy couldn’t help but blush when he’d been caught with yourself and your partner yearning for him to join. he did so in the end... because of you, because you had inspired him to pick up skating after you won your first gold medal. it just so happened that little jungkookie was a fast learner. “did you like the surprise? i thought it would help with your nerves— i know you get butterflies in your tummy before you perform! so do i! especially when i see you— uh! i mean!”

jungkook’s ears burn as bright as his cherry red hair, the shade only feeling as your melodious chuckle wafts through the phone’s speakers. “i loved it kookie, thank you.” you hum, batting your lashes at him, despite the presence of the other skaters on the call. you knew he had a soft spot for you, it was hard to miss his longing gazes and the tightening of his jaw when tae put his hand on your waist for lifts. it was sweet. “good luck to you in your regionals as well, you’ll do great... okay?” you’re quick to remind him, as you note taehyung returning from the locker room.

“t-thank you noona! we love you!”

the skaters give you one last cheer and round of applause as taehyung slips into view with a boxed grin and sweet wave. namjoon ends the call, ruffling his lover’s mop of hair before ushering the two of you onto the ice, ready to run through your routine one last time.

putting together the perfect routine, is like making the perfect breakfast. the eggs you begin with, a sweet yolk dancing on your tongue like the starting moves that give the judges a taste of what you’re capable of. next were the pancakes, drenched in syrup— like light movements through the air, packing a punch with the saucy moves between yourself and your partner to show off your finesse and finally, there was the—

“orange juice.” taehyung’s timbre voice cut through your thoughts like a knife as he place a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of you whilst disrupting your  mentally mapped out routine. blinking rapidly under his stares, your gaze switched from the piles of food he’d set on your plate, to the amused but scolding glare he’d spared you. “drink it, it’ll keep your sugar and energy up for today.”

“thanks taetae...”

you nod gratefully, leaning forward and taking a gulp of the bitter yellow liquid as if it’ll wash away the nerves beginning to bubble in the pits of your stomach. nonetheless, the skater beams brightly at you before he scoffs down a mouthful of his towering breakfast— as he always did before such events. you, however, couldn’t bare to eat— not with the devious stares of the other female figure skaters who eyed your plates. you knew it was a tactic to throw you off guard, the canteen of the hotel was much like a high school back in the day, with cliques and squads all out to get each other. it was always like this before major skating competition but your mind is too busy being filled with anticipation of getting on the ice and showing off once more.

namjoon appears after taehyung has eaten more than half his plate— resulting in him stealing bits and pieces from your own. “don’t look so nervous, YN,” the elder chides from over his steaming cup of coffee, hand running through his dishevelled purple and blonde streaked locks. “you’ll do great, both of you will.” your coach spares a knowing glance to taehyung, who blushes through munching the rest of your pancakes and so; you can tell by the light bruises on the neck that he and taehyung had a rough encounter in the night before.  

joon was never allowed to mark taehyung above the waist, because the younger loved to wear costumes that glittered and showed off his open chest. you knew from experience that the marks would be below the waist where no one could see— like their own little good luck ritual. glee consumes your skating partner as namjoon nuzzles his nose into his dark hair, the distraction letting you slip under the surface of worry once more.

‘no, you’ve got this.’ you think, flickering your gaze anywhere but your plate in order to clam the race horse of thoughts in your mind. you finally settle on staring at the news report playing on the small digital TV hanging in the right hand corner of the cafeteria. park jimin, arrested for speeding. the report flashes across the screen, images of bright blonde hair and dark eyes hidden by thick black shades passing by with faint sounds of camera clicks.

you shake your head, grateful to never had experienced trouble like that. sure, you’d dealt with reporters and trash paparazzi but, joon and tae— they’d always gotten you through it. it was just nice to not be alone like him...

park jimin.

taehyung had a mind of brilliance.

you sit in the stylist chair, hair slicked back and curled away from your eyes— the momentum of free hair would have disrupted your skating or thrown you off balance, but god was kim taehyung a miracle worker. he always knew how he wanted you both to look for performances, the makeup artists bidding to his every need. you could even find him helping out with the beginners class performances— adding glitter to baby cheeks and braiding youthful hair.

today, your friend had decided the look you would go for; would be faded baby blue shadow dancing across your lids and blending softly with cloudy whites and silver sparkles. your liner was sharp, winged enough to cut the diamond edge of the gemstones that were dotted at the corner of your eye— taehyung was smart, co-ordinating your makeup look with the pretty silver dress namjoon had scouted out just for you.

the article of clothing itself, is backless with long sleeves that form tear drops at your pointer finger as they fade from silver to a cool grey, much like the skirt of your dress. smaller gemstones and pearls align at your waist and chest, that glistened under the cheap light when namjoon had first revealed the outfit to you. you had cried when you thumbed the flowing layered skirt, thanking your boys endlessly for the beautiful dress but taehyung had only giggled — knowing that it matched his silver to white shirt, tight fitting and glittering with layered sleeves (which he loved so much).

now, you laced up your skates— nerves peaking once more. the white leather sat comfortably against your heal, having broken in the skates amiss your training. you knew that the current pair were already on the ice, eliciting cheers from the crowd so you forced your jitters into lacing up and securing your skates. a double not would suffice.

“you’re both going to do amazing, remember whatever happens out there... i’m proud of you.” your coach reminds with one last dimpled smile before you’re due on the ice. taehyung pecks both of your cheeks and leads you away from your team of staff— who clap excitedly for you while your names are announced.

squeezing his hand, you slide smoothly onto the ice with taehying and close your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of coolness and fresh air and taking in the squeals of your names. “you look great,” your partner comments easily, smirking as you circle each other on the rink. you open your eyes, noting the white-ish glow the ice gives to taehyung’s honey skin and grin. “we’ve got this.”

“we always do,” you nod back in affirmation, confidence flaring as the announcement finishes (you had always felt more at home on the ice, and tae knew once you were out there, your worries would melt away with the music). you push yourself into position with tae, your foreheads pressed against once another’s, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. it’s all for the dramatics but you know that the crowd loves your chemistry. piano chords drift through the air, signalling the start of your routine, your hands roam across taehyung’s body like you’d practiced countless times. when the beat picks up, taehyung twists you in his arms, fingertips reaching just above your head while your own hands follow his to link them.

you begin to pick up momentum, skating with each other in arm as the first verse picks, with hands on your waist, taehyung picks you up gently, holding you off the ice for just a second as he skates into a half spin before placing you down. resuming your movements across the rink, you separate and tumble into your next move— they lay back spin. the pair of you synchronise your moves, holding your skates to your head as you twirl into the lyrics of the song.

‘is it true? is it true?’ the lyrics reverberate in your mind, body following taehyung’s lead into the next steps. his fingertips are  light on your arms to keep them poised, both of you extending your right legs as you glide across the ice. ‘you, you, you...’ your partner lifts you once more into his arms, pushing you into the air for you to fall gracefully into a double salchow— taking off with the back inside edge of your right skate and landing on the outside of the opposite skate. the crowd bursts into applause, making you grin subtly at your partner before interlocking your fingers once more for a partnered arabesque spirals.

your hand grips taehyung’s firmly, letting your bodies move naturally with the music as you hold your legs in outstretched positions. the chorus bursts through the arena as the air below your arms blows away any worries, you fall back into taehyung’s arms once more for a lift above his head— your legs stretched out into a galloping motion before he swiftly prompts you into a death spiral, holding onto your arm as he twirls your body lower towards the ice.

when the chorus ends, you’re back to skating side by side, wowing the crowd with your movements— like namjoon said you would. completing a paired sit spin, movements mirrored perfectly, a feeling of dread feels your stomach. the ice changes beneath your skates— rougher on this side of the rink than others which sends ripples of worry through your veins at what is to come next. a triple axel jump, they were difficult to land and yet a specialty of yourself and your partners. you knew in your heart that if you landed this jump, the competition was yours but the buzzing feeling in your mind knew that something was wrong. to others, the ice carried you gracefully across the rink, but you knew something was out of place. catching taehyung’s eye, it’s as if he feels it too, but you can’t miss he jump... not when it could cost you the chance of a win.

putting your trust into taehyung, the man you’ve known for years— you curl into his chest as his strong hands support you into propelling you into the triple axel jump but to your dismay, the ice catches beneath his toe pick, taehyung misses a fraction of a beat as he forces you into the air. fear spikes in your chest— you weren’t ready, not to land, not for the jump, not for the music to push through with a climax.

and certainly not for the crunch of your bones.

excited cheers die down to fearful gasps and screams of horror, while taehyung picks himself up from the fall. the world is too loud, the lights are too bright and paramedics rush past him as he shakes himself off. wait, paramedics. pupils blown wide the skater rushes to his feet, pushing past men in orange suits with medical kits strewn about— he hears the faint call of namjoon from over the barrier and the announcers up ahead but his focus is on you.

the loudness fades and a ringing sensation builds up behind your ears— the world is black and you can only catch momentary flashes of taehyung’s worried face above your own. you’re confused, you can’t hear him as he mumbles through his sudden onslaught of tears. you cringe as they drip onto your face, an urge to wipe away the wetness taking over you— but when your fingers are brought back to your eyes, you notice the colour of crimson decorating your finger tips.

a muffled cry leaves your small frame as pain shoots through your leg, you can’t find the source but suddenly reality comes rushing back. you can hear the rushed voices of paramedics as they shuffle you onto a gurney, you can feel the stickiness of blood from somewhere on your head trickle down your back— soiling the pretty dress namjoon worked so hard to find, the throbbing pain in your left leg becoming too much to bare as you cry out for anyone, anything.

it hurts, god it hurts.  

“stay with me, YN, keep th-those eyes open for me? okay baby?” you hear as your vision sways, but the voice is familiar— timbre and warm just like taehyung’s. his cool hands cup your face, brushing through your hair as he limps off the rink with your gurney. “p-please stay awake? baby please...” you know that he’s crying and you know that you’re crying too, but you’re too tired, to sleepy to comply with his wishes. the world is still dark, briefly brightening when you see namjoon from the corner of your eye. he’s gone again and the buzzing world is replaced with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. there’s arguing, yelling but you can’t see from behind closed eyes.

“she needs surgery!”

“what she needs, is us!”

when you come to, one last time you lock eyes with taehyung’s trusting brown ones, watering on the edge of tears. “i won’t leave you, i promise.”

and with that, you slip away again.

there were certain sounds you liked to hear. like the sound of your skate cutting into thick ice when you landed a jump, taehyung’s sweet singing after a long day of practice or the old romcoms you had playing in your hotel room after a day of competing.

the incessant beeping filling your senses was not a sound you liked.

“it’s my fault, joon. you should have seen her face... it’s like she knew and she trusted me to—“ taehyung cuts through the beeping with a voice filled with worry, his jubilant demeanour having been lost somewhere. your head begins to pound as you remember his skittish sobs, but the memories are blurred still.

namjoon’s voice enters next, interrupting the shaking voice of his boyfriend. “it’s not your fault, how could you have known she’d fall like that? you tripped taehyung, something wasn’t right.”

“but she felt it, we both did—“

“then i’ll take it up with the board, we’ll sue, we’ll— we’ll figure out what happened.” your coach reasoned with his lover, a silence sweeping over the room. you yearned for the comfort you felt eminate between them but when you lift your arm, you realise you’re unable to move— the wires and plugs and breathing machines keeping you strapped to the bed. panic rises in your chest, blocking your air as you struggle to breathe—  taehyung is the first to rush to your side, lifting your mask and cradling you into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

namjoon is on your other side, rubbing a large palm up and down your back and out instantly feel comforted by their presence. hot tears roll down your cheeks, burning in your oesophagus as you claw at the base of your throat.

“shhh, little princess it’s okay— we’ve got you.”

a cup of water is brought to your lips which you quickly gulp down, the cool liquid soothing the ache in your throat. blinking, you cling tightly to taehyung’s cable knit sweater— hesitant to speak due to your unused voice. “wh-what happened?” you manage, unsure if your whispers can be heard above the pounding of your heart. “where...where are we?”

“you were in an accident,” namjoon spoke lowly from above you, taehyung instantly squeezing you closer as memories of the incident flashed behind both of your eyes. a low whimper left your childhood friend’s lips at your wince— squeezing you again as if he could drain your pain away. your coach swears he feels his heart break at the two of you hurting, pressing the buzzer for the nurse as tae cradles you and sliding onto your hospital bed to wrap his larger arms around you both. “something went wrong with the ice and, you fell—“

your fingers curl tighter in your friend’s clothes, as you remember the pain shooting up your leg and burning in the back of your skull. taehyung avoids your eyes this time, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “they checked you for a concussion and your leg...” his baritone voice an octave, a cool quiet seeping into the room. “your leg is broken, but with one more surgery and some physical therapy— you’ll be back on the ice in no time!”

your heart plummets in your chest, you knew what injuries like that did to figure skaters. sure you were young, you had time to recover but even the slightest pause in doing so could cost you your entire life, your career. the pair of lovers that surround you share a grim look, knowing the thoughts that are rushing through your mind.

“we have the best doctors for you, YN, with a few months—“

you blink up at tae with fiery eyes filled with tears, resisting the urge to shove him away. “i don’t have a few months, tae! training for the olympics is what i should be doing!” you hiccup, starting to choke on tears you refuse to let shed. “i need to be out there on that ice, or i’m useless, i need to—“

you make movements to step out of bed, sucking in your lower lip as a dull ache rests in your bones. the pair are quick to pull you back into bed, but your hands scold them with slaps as you push them away. you have no right to be angry at them, but you know that they understand. taehyung seems to be calmer now, despite the hurt that tickles his puppy dog features at your resistance, he does his best to comfort you.

but a prominent scowl yearns for the curve of namjoon’s lips, your coach falling deep in thought.

“you’re suspended from skating.”

“wh-what?” you stammer, eyes burning with a fresh set of tears for the third or fourth time that night. this time, your partner stands, looking to his lover in confusion and standing with his hands resting on your shoulders comfortingly.

he speaks hesitantly. “now joon...”

“no, taehyung,” your coach sighs, remaining stern. it kills him to make this choice, but there’s no other way— at least not for now. “LN YN will be suspended from all physical skating activities until she has made a full recovery with a hired physical therapist...” the words pierce straight into your heart, tearing you apart from the inside. you want to scream and cry and kick and protest but you’re too numbed from pain and betrayal to speak or move. “legal action will be taken up with the board responsible for the competition but until then, you will not touch the ice. understand?”

you blink, numb.

“YN, i said, do you understand?” namjoon repeats, steeling his gaze. he hates this, he hates hurting both you and his love.

you nod once, looking away whilst tae rubs circles into your shoulders. his lover mentions something about a coffee before slipping out of the room... and that’s when you breakdown. you cry, heavy ugly tears with a running nose that you’re sure stains your best friends sweater as he rocks you back and forth into the night.

you cry until your spark is dull, you cry until your chest burns and until your eyes are dry. you cry because you’ve lost your purpose in life.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Unchained Melody (Obsessed!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: It’s two years after Thanos’ snap when you’re kidnapped. You wake up one day in the middle of nowhere, alone in a cabin with none other than Captain America. But he isn’t the hero everyone remembers anymore; there’s a darkness to him, an unhinged edge that’s driven him to stop asking for permission and to take what he wants. And, after watching you for a year, what he wants most is you. (Please read the author’s note!)

A/N: This story contains non-con elements, oral sex, kidnapping, drugging, and a very out-of character, insane Steve Rogers. I like to think that this story takes place in an AU where he kind of went off the deep end after Thanos. So keep that in mind as you read! Parts of it were inspired by this post, and the two songs I mention in this story are Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers and Dream A Little Dream of Me as performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Enjoy!

There was music playing from somewhere close by. The song was familiar, but its sound was scratchy, grainy. The soft whir of some sort of machine accompanied its lyrics as you slowly regained consciousness.

Oh, my love…. My darling… I’ve hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…

You gulped even though your throat was as dry as bone, and your tongue felt almost papery as it darted out over your lips. The lighting of the room was dim and low, but your eyes stung nonetheless as they started to crack open. Your limbs were heavy, too heavy to move, and so you made neither movement nor sound as you gradually grew accustomed to wakefulness.

When you could finally make it out, you saw that the ceiling was high and made out of wood, and a ceiling fan was hanging from one of its many exposed beams. You blinked and furrowed your eyebrows as you turned your head towards the music, ignoring the rest of your surroundings until you found its source – an old, battered record player resting atop a dresser that had been shoved up against the far wall.

Your eyes darted around the unfamiliar space, cataloguing everything else within it silently. Plush rugs were scattered about the room, and atop them sat rustic furnishings. In the corner, there were two armchairs sitting in front of two bookshelves; the dresser and a wardrobe were placed on the opposite side of the space, and you were resting on a bed that was right in the middle, pressed against the back wall. There were several heavy blankets covering you, and the quilt sitting on top of the pile was made of soft flannel.

Panic started to seep into your veins, but you pushed it aside as you attempted to sit up. It was as if someone had attached 50 pound weights to the end of each of your limbs. Your movements were sluggish and stilted as you scooted around atop the soft mattress; it was as if you were drunk, but your head was too clear for that to be the case. Clear and confused.

When you were eventually sitting up, you pulled your legs to hang over the side of the bed. There were two doors that you could see. One of them was opened just a crack, but you could see white tile floors on its other side; you were willing to bet it led to a bathroom. But across from where you sat, there was a second one, firmly shut. That was where you were headed.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered what little strength you possessed and pushed yourself off of the bed. The second your feet hit the floor, though, your knees wobbled, and within moments you were falling to the floor. Your left elbow took the brunt of your weight, jarring your body so hard that your teeth clattered together.

“Fuck,” you groaned, rolling over onto your back. You didn’t need to look to know you’d be sporting a bruise soon.

You lay there, closing your eyes and listening to the record that was still turning on its player.

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea… To the open arms of the sea, yeah…

You had no idea where you were or how you’d gotten there. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in your bed at home, but after that it was all blank, and you were starting to feel afraid. You needed answers soon, before your anxiety could get the best of you. But judging by how fast your heart was beating, it wouldn’t be too long before it sent you headfirst into a panic attack of epic proportions.

Before you could muster the will to try and stand up again, you heard a rhythmic sound coming from the other side of the closed door. It was faint at first, but then louder as it approached.

Footsteps.

You had no time to try and scramble away as a man barged into the room, his blue eyes immediately falling to your prone form on the floor. Your eyes widened as you took him in – he was a monolith of a man. Tall, built, sturdy – you could see his biceps bulging beneath the flannel he was clad in, straining against the material as he hurried over to you.

“Oh my gosh, doll, are you alright?” he fretted, kneeling down beside you. You tried to squirm away as he reached for you, but you might as well have been fighting against a tree as he resolutely picked you up.

“How did you get on the floor, baby girl?” he continued, placing you down gently on the bed.

You drew your knees up to your chest and inched away from him, narrowing your eyes.

“Who…” you croaked, clearing your sore throat before trying once more to speak. “Who are you?”

He shook his head at your question as he sat down on the bed, seemingly oblivious to your fear.

“Are you hurt? How long have you been awake?”

“Who are you?” you once more asked, ignoring his concern. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

The man sighed through his nose as he arched an eyebrow at you, and in the silence that followed you took the opportunity to study him.

A thick but well-groomed beard had grown out over his face, and his hair was dirty-blonde and of medium length, curling up at the ends as it rested just a bit shy of his shoulders. There was something familiar about him; you could’ve sworn you’d seen him before. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“You’re safe,” he finally sighed, snapping you out of your observations. “We’re in a cabin in upstate New York. I brought you here two nights ago.”

Your eyes widened once more, and when he reached out to set a hand on your knee, you drew away as if his touch would burn you.

“Why can’t I remember coming here?” you demanded, scooting as far away from him as the bed would allow. “And for the last time, who are you?”

“Before I tell you,” he started, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, “I’m gonna need you to calm down, ok? Take a few deep breaths; I promise you that everything is ok.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and hugged your knees tighter, but despite your barely-restrained panic, you did as he said. You closed your eyes and took a long, deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. You repeated the process twice more, feeling your heart slowly start to beat a little slower, taking the edge off your fear.

When you finally opened your eyes, though, the man was sitting much closer to you than he had been before. It was enough to make you jump, and your heartrate picked up again when you saw the unsettling smile that had spread over his features.

“Good,” he praised, reaching out to set one of his massive hands on your shoulder. “Good job. Keep taking those deep breaths.”

You shrugged him off, desperate to put more distance between the two of you. But if you scooted any further to the left, you were sure to fall off the bed.

“Can you please tell me who you are now?” you murmured. Something was off with this guy; your instincts had been screaming at you from the moment you’d heard his footsteps, but the soft, borderline desperate look in his eyes now had them wailing at a deafening roar despite how familiar he looked.

“My name is Steve,” he finally told you, and then it all clicked into place.

“…Captain America?” you asked incredulously.

As soon as you realized it, it became so obvious. The beard had thrown you off at first, but there was no denying that this was America’s legendary hero. It had been a while since you’d heard anything about him. Apparently, he’d had a falling out with Tony Stark a few years ago, splitting the famous Avengers apart and turning them against one another. And then, after that, Thanos had come to Earth.

It was now two years after his devastating snap, and you’d almost forgotten about Captain America and the heroes of yester-year. But now you were face to face with him in a cabin that was supposedly in the upstate of New York.

The captain didn’t seem to care about your shock upon realizing his true identity, though. At hearing the name of his alter-ego, he’d rolled his eyes and looked down at the bed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I…used to be. But it’s just Steve now, doll.”

“I… I don’t understand,” you stammered. “Was I in danger, or something? Di-did you save me from someone; is that why you brought me here?”

He seemed to consider your words, turning them over in his head before piercing you with his gaze once more.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you could say that; I did save you from someone.”

“Well who was it? Did anybody get hurt-“

“I saved you from yourself.”

You paused, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I…don’t understand. How-“

“You were so…lonely,” he sighed. “You’d been on your own ever since the Snap, right? When I found you, I could tell that you’d lost everything, just like me. You just…floated through life. …It broke my heart.

“But it’s alright, now,” he insisted, leaning towards you. “I saved you from that loneliness. I saved us. Everything will be better now that we have each other.”

You blinked once, twice, before his words finally sank in, and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you came to the earth-shattering realization that Steve, that Captain America, had gone crazy.

That was what had seemed so off about him from the get-go; you saw it plainly now. The frenzied edge to his smile, the way his eyes were opened just a little too wide, how they focused just a little too intently on you. His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap, unable to stay still as he watched you predatorily; he was completely unhinged.

“No…” You shook your head, turning away to climb towards the edge of the bed again. “No, no, no-“

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hushed, and before you could try and stand up, his arms were snaking around your waist and pulling you backwards towards him. “It’s ok; it’s ok…”

“Let go of me!” you cried, trying your best to thrash around in his grip.

But it was of no use; he pulled you into his lap and pinned your back against his chest. His strength was inhuman as he used only one arm to keep you in place; the other ran up and down your arm in a gesture you were sure he meant to be soothing. But as his fingertips trailed up your bicep and into your hair, you couldn’t stifle the sob that escaped your lips.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, doll,” he begged, running his digits through your tresses. “It’s ok; I’ve got you now. God, I love you so much.”

You froze upon hearing that word.

“…Love me? You… you don’t even know me,” you whispered, but he just chuckled, the sound rumbling lowly through his chest.

“Of course I do, doll. I’ve been watching you for over a year now.”

Your blood ran cold, but Steve carried on, oblivious to the terrified tear that was trekking down your cheek.

“I saw you one day at the memorial park, looking at the monuments they made for the fallen,” he started, leaning forward. You felt his nose bump against your scalp, and you felt as if ants were crawling up your spine as he inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in your scent.

“You were so beautiful; at first, that was the only reason why you interested me so much,” he went on. “But then I ran into you again at the grocery store, and I knew that there was something else about you, something special. After that, I couldn’t get you out of my head – I had to follow you. I had to figure out what it was that was drawing me in.”

You bit your trembling lower lip, and once more Steve shushed you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Whimpering, you tried again to free yourself from his grasp, but his arms didn’t even budge.

“Before I knew it, months had passed. Time got away from me a little while I was watching you,” he confessed. “But I was content to stay at a distance. You weren’t ready for our love just yet; it’s taken you a long time to heal from everything. But then… he came along.”

You froze at the sudden anger in his tone, and it scared you stiff.

“Who…? Who are you talking about?” you asked, jolting when a growl tore its way out of his throat.

“That punk who moved in across the hall,” he clarified. “He wanted to take you away from me; he wanted to touch you-“

“Drake? Drake is just a friend,” you insisted, squirming away from him. You twisted and pulled and finally, finally, managed to tear yourself out of his grasp.

Your limbs were still weak, but adrenaline was fueling your movements as you scrambled off the bed. You didn’t stick around to see if Steve was following you before taking off through the door he’d come in through. Bypassing the cozy-looking living room, fleeing past the kitchen, you saw the front door and made a beeline for it. But when you stumbled outside, your feet skidded to a halt.

Snow.

It was nighttime, but the snow gleamed and glittered under the moonlight. White covered the ground in a thick layer, and even though you were still under the protection of the porch’s roof, you started shivering as you looked out over the landscape before you. The only thing you could see were trees and bushes and the snow as it fell down in fat flakes. There was no car in sight, nor were there any neighbors. Just you and Steve and the wilderness.

“You should come inside, doll. It’s cold out.”

Gulping, you slowly turned around to find Steve leaning in the doorway, watching you with a sickeningly fond smile.

“I know this is a lot for you to take in,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “But we can take it slow; I want you to be happy with me. …All I ever want is for you to be happy.”

You sniffed as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, and Steve made a small, pitying noise as he stood up straight and stepped towards you.

“Aw, hon, don’t cry-“

You ducked the arm that he tried to wrap around you, staggering past him. You looked around the cabin frantically – for what, you had no idea. You just needed to be alone, away from him. You needed to think.

With a sob, you turned back to the bedroom, running past its doorway, past the record player, and into the bathroom. Your feet slipped on the slick, white tile, and you hit the floor hard, this time landing not on your elbow, but on your hip.

“Doll! Be careful; c’mon, I’m not gonna hurt you-“

You turned around and kicked the door shut before he could reach you, rising up onto your knees to slide the lock into place. As soon as it was locked, the handle started moving, and you scrambled backwards on your hands and knees as Steve pounded on the door.

There were three knocks against the door before everything fell silent, and you held your breath as you hugged your knees. The quiet was deafening; the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and the muffled sound of the record player. But then, finally, there was a sigh from the bedroom.

“Fine,” Steve huffed. “Stay in there if you need to; I’ll give you some time to think. But I think we both know that this door can’t keep me away, doll. I’m letting you lock me out.”

There was a beat of silence again as he moved away from your door, and you almost missed the next words he mumbled under his breath.

“’Cuz I love you.”

You waited with bated breath for the sound of his retreat, and it was only until you heard the bedroom door click shut behind him that you let your tears start to fall.

_________________

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed. You’d sat there weeping quietly, wallowing in self-pity as you wondered how you’d gotten yourself into such an insane situation. Eventually, once the tears and the worst of your anxiety had passed, you’d moved over to the sink, cupping your hands to greedily drink from its tap until your throat stopped aching. From there, you mechanically gathered towels from the linen closet and spread them out in the spacious bathtub in the corner. Once it was sufficiently padded, you’d hauled your sore, tired body into it and curled up, burrowing your head in your arms as you contemplated your situation.

First, you thought about what you already knew. One, you were trapped in the middle of nowhere, with no knowledge of how close the nearest neighbors or town were to you. Two, Steve Rogers, a super-soldier from the 40’s, claimed to be in love with you. He’d gone so far as to abduct you just because you’d made friends with the guy who lived in the apartment across the hall from yours, so it was safe to say that three, he was insane.

Next, you established your goal – escape. But to accomplish your goal, you would need to form a plan. If he had a car, you needed to get the keys to it. If he didn’t you needed to convince him to bring you into town somehow. And if he had a phone, you needed to steal it and call for help.

You were quickly becoming too tired to think, though, and without meaning to you slipped into a deep, tired, dreamless sleep.

You could have slept for hours or minutes, but you still would have felt just as disoriented as you woke up to a pounding at the door.

“Doll? I made dinner; come out so you can eat.”

Drawing your blankets tighter around yourself, you pressed your back against the wall of the tub as the knob started turning again.

“Are you ok in there? Please open the door.”

You made no move as Steve pounded at the door again, and your heart leapt into your throat when you heard him heave a long-suffering sigh.

“Ok; you leave me no choice.”

A startled scream ripped itself out of your throat when the door was suddenly pulled off its hinges, and you clapped a hand over your mouth as Steve leaned it up against the wall. He glanced over at you as he wiped his hands on his jeans, making sure the door wouldn’t fall over before starting to saunter towards you.

“Sorry, doll. But I did try to ask you politely to come out.”

Steve knelt next to the tub, taking in the little nest you’d built for yourself with a look of amusement.

“You know, we have a king-sized bed in there for when you get sleepy,” he teased. “You don’t have to nap in the tub.”

You frowned, and his smile fell. With a look of disappointment, he combed his fingers through his hair before standing up.

“Come on; dinner’s ready in the kitchen.”

With that, he gently wrapped his hand around your bicep and helped you to your feet, and he surprisingly let go of you once you were out of the bathtub. He inclined his head, silently gesturing for you to follow him before he started walking out of the room.

You wanted to stubbornly crawl back into the tub, but you were suddenly hit with a delicious, succulent smell that immediately had your mouth watering. Your stomach growled loudly, and you huffed before placing your hand over it.

“Traitor,” you whispered to your torso.

You chewed on your lip as you pensively followed Steve into the small, warm kitchen. The table therein had already been set, and your stomach once more let out a wail once you spotted two plates piled high with spaghetti and meatballs. A small basket of garlic bread sat next to a bowl of pre-grated parmesan, and there were two empty flutes sitting next to a bottle of champagne.

“Have a seat,” Steve said, pulling a chair out for you.

Your eyes drifted down from his face to the chair he’d pulled out for you, and with a sniff you made your way to the opposite side of the table, pulling out the other chair and sinking into it. Steve sighed but raised his hands up in a sign of surrender before sitting down.

“I get it; you’re angry with me,” he huffed. “I can understand that. But maybe you’ll feel better if you eat. I promise it’s good; it’s my mom’s old recipe.”

Your eyes never left him as he began to scoop spaghetti onto your plate. His muscles flexed as he reached for the garlic bread next, picking up two large pieces and depositing them on your plate.

“The bread is just from the frozen isle, but hopefully it’s good too,” Steve continued on, his tone casual. You blinked at him incredulously as he started making his own plate, shooting you the occasional smile as he carried on, seemingly oblivious to how crazy the whole situation was.

Eventually, your hunger got the best of you, and you stopped staring at your captor long enough to pick up your fork. The food, you begrudgingly admitted, was very good, and as you ate, you studied the cabin, trying to take in all possible escape routes and objects that could be used as a weapon.

“So.”

Steve’s voice made you jump, and your eyes snapped back to him. He had already finished his food and was currently leaning back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs as he watched you.

“What’dya think of the cabin? It’s cozy, right?”

You didn’t answer him, instead just sighing and setting your fork down. You eyed the glass of wine that he’d poured for you; truth be told, you would love a drink right now. But you didn’t want to let your guard down by getting tipsy; you needed full awareness to make it out of this.

Steve sighed before leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table as he considered you.

“Doll, c’mon. You gotta talk to me eventually.”

“…What would you like me to talk about?” you slowly asked him, voice still hoarse. “The fact that you kidnapped me? Or the fact that you’ve been stalking me for upwards of a year?”

The only indication that your words affected him at all was the small tick of a muscle in his jaw. His eyes didn’t so much as darken at your tone, but you could tell his teeth were clenched together.

“How did you like the music? I tried to pick out some records I thought you’d enjoy.”

“You won’t get away with this. Eventually, someone will find us,” you taunted him. “And when they do, I’ll tell them everything.”

His lips pressed together, and with a clang, his fork dropped to his plate, but he made no move as you pushed your chair back.

“Honey, please,” he sighed, clenching his fists. “Just calm down, ok? There’s no need to be so confrontational. Try and finish your food-“

“I don’t want to finish my fucking food!” you cried out, pushing the plate away from you. “I want you to let me go, you freak! You-“

Your words dissolved into a startled scream when Steve’s fist came down on the table. The loud bang it produced was accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, and your eyes darted down to see a deep crack running along the table right where his hand had struck it.

“Watch your fucking language,” he growled. “I am trying to have a nice dinner with you, and I’ll be damned if I let you speak to me that way under my own roof. Calm. Down.”

In the moments that followed Steve’s outburst, the only sound you could hear was that of your own breathing, fast and scared and impossibly loud within the heavy silence that had fallen over the table. Tears welled up in your eyes as the captain stared you down, and you didn’t dare say anything until he looked away.

“…Sorry,” he finally murmured. “Just… Finish your food, please. I want tonight to be nice. For both of us.”

You felt your blood run cold at his words, but you were too frightened to do anything other than what he’d said. With a shaky hand, you picked up your fork and mechanically began twirling spaghetti onto it once more, not daring a glance up at the man seated across from you.

“Thank you. How is the food?”

“…Good,” you whispered. A tiny voice in the back of your head said, fuck it, and without further thought you took a sip of your wine. And then another. And then, before you knew it, your glass was gone and Steve was pouring you another.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. The words made the wine feel sour in your stomach, but you hurriedly took another sip to calm your nerves.

Once you were finished with your meal, you sat back and cautiously met Steve’s eyes. He gave you a warm, close-lipped smile before leaning across the table, laying his hand out palm up. When you made no move to hold it, he stood up with a grunt, and as he rounded the table you felt a spike of fear stab through you.

But he only knelt down beside your chair, snatching your hand and cradling it between his own.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he breathed. “That’s why it took so long for me to do anything except watch you. But I… I love you, doll. I need you more than I need to breathe.”

He paused, looking down at your hand. As he brought it up to his lips, you suddenly realized just how potent the wine was; your senses were starting to feel foggy at the edges, and his skin felt like a furnace as he ran his fingers along your palm.

“I know it’s crazy,” he mumbled. “I know I’m crazy. But with everything that’s happened… I’m way past caring. I needed you.”

“I…” Your voice trailed off, and with uncoordinated limbs you pulled yourself to your wobbly feet.

“I need to go lay down,” you slurred, but Steve only smiled, standing up and pulling you against him.

“But the evening’s only just begun,” he purred.

It was then that you realized that being drunk didn’t feel like this; the alcohol didn’t explain the heaviness of your limbs and the static in your brain.

“What…What’s in the wine-“ you stammered, weakly struggling against his arms.

“Shhh,” he shushed you. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s nothing that’ll hurt you. And you won’t pass out or anything. I just…didn’t want you running away again. All that stress isn’t good for you, you know.”

You let out a quiet whine as he picked you up, carrying you bridal style into the bedroom. You could no longer move; in fact, you could barely keep your eyes open as he set you down on the bed. But your heart still leapt in fear when he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Wait here for just a minute,” he said, as if you had any choice. “I wanna do something with you.”

Your body slumped back against the cushions as he turned to the record player, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as he placed the needle over a new track. The sound of an old-fashioned jazz band immediately filled the air, quickly accompanied by Ella Fitzgerald’s familiar, sultry voice.

Stars shining bright above you…

Steve’s arms were wrapping around you once more, and your head spun as he lifted you upwards. He maneuvered you carefully, adjusting your limp arms until they were draped over his shoulders with a patient smile. Your feet dangled, occasionally bumping against his shins as he held you aloft, beginning to sway back and forth with the tempo of the music.

Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you…’ Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees…

Dream a little dream of me…

“I remember when this song first came out,” Steve whispered against your ear. “I always knew that I wanted to dance to it with a woman I loved someday.”

You closed your eyes as tears started dribbling out of them, staining his flannel as Steve swayed with you in his arms. This was so fucked up, so insane, but you were helpless to every one of his sick whims.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear…

“Still craving your kiss,” he softly sang along, his voice so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it.

He danced to the rest of the song in silence, never loosening his grip on you, and even when the music stopped, he still swayed with you in his arms. The scratching of the needle against the finished record was almost drowning out the frantic beat of your own heart, which only grew faster as Steve carried you back to the bed.

He laid you down gently, making sure your head was supported by plenty of pillows as he kneeled over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, pushing an errant stray of hair out of your eyes. “You’re all I ever think about, you know.”

Your eyes widened slightly as one of his hands started creeping up your thighs, and you weakly made a noise of protest as he started prying your legs apart.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know. But I need to show you that you don’t need to be afraid with me. And I’ve already waited so…so long…”

His body shifted until he was kneeling between your spread legs, licking his lips as his palms started inching upwards under your shirt.

“You’re probably not ready for all of me just yet,” he mused to himself. “This is already a big adjustment for you. But…”

He tilted his head, eyes skimming down to the pajama shorts you were still wearing from your house. It seemed like forever ago when you’d gone to bed in your ratty old apartment, alone and totally oblivious of the horrors to come.

Your head lolled to the side as Steve suddenly gripped the hem of your t-shirt, and you willed your arms to fight back as he started taking your top off. But the most you could manage was a slightly twitch of your fingers as he pulled away the shirt, tossing it to the floor before letting his hands greedily cup your breasts.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling them beneath his palms. “I knew they’d feel perfect. You’re so soft…”

His fingertips left goosebumps in their wake as they traced down your chest, skimming over your nipples as they traced a path to your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, and a muffled sob escaped your lips as he started pushing your shorts down.

“No, no, it’s ok,” he insisted, pressing a peck to your cheek and pausing in his movements. “It’s ok, doll. I’m not gonna make love to you just yet. I just want you to loosen up a little.”

He gave you a soft smile, rubbing circles against your hip with his thumb.

“I want you to see how good I can make you feel,” he breathed. “And I wanna make you want me the way I want you.”

Pretty soon, you were completely bare beneath his demanding gaze, his blue irises flitting up and down your body as he drank you in.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you like this,” he confessed. “But you’re so much better up close, baby.”

He leaned forward, hesitating a second before pressing a chaste, almost shy kiss to your lips. You could feel his smile as he pulled away only to capture another kiss once again, this time letting his tongue dart out to swipe over your lower lip. His teeth felt sharp as he sucked on it, nibbling and worrying at your lip until pulling away a few seconds later.

The callouses on his fingertips felt rough against the inside of your thighs, and you squeaked when you felt him grind his hips against you, his jeans the only barrier between you and his hardness.

“See what you do to me?” he chuckled, pushing your hair back to whisper against your ear. “You have no idea how many times I’ve cum thinking about you.”

His lips descended onto your neck, sucking bruise after bruise in a bright purple trail down to your collarbone. One moment, his teeth would be biting you so hard that you cried out, but then his tongue would be lathing over your flesh in a way that almost drew a moan out of you. But you were too afraid to get caught up in the pleasure behind what he was doing.

Your lack of response didn’t seem to both him, though, as he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to your sternum before cupping your tits between his hands. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips and starting to suck on it. The noise of his tongue dragging along your flesh combined with your quick, ragged pants in a staccato rhythm that matched his hips as they continued grinding against you. Unbidden, a moan escaped your throat, and you wished you could take it back the minute you saw a wide grin spread over Steve’s lips.

“See?” He crawled back up, cupping your cheek before kissing you once again.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he murmured. “It’s ok to enjoy this; it’s ok to love me.”

His eyes sought yours out, a flicker of vulnerability rising from their depths.

“Please love me,” he whispered.

Even if you’d been able to fathom a response, you were unable to do anything but look up at him pleadingly, silently begging him to stop, to let you go and end this madness. But if he understood what you were trying to convey, he ignored it, once again crawling down your body until he was face to face with the apex of your thighs.

A grunt escaped your throat when one of his fingers traced your pussy lips, and you were horrified to hear how wet you’d become.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a soft laugh. “You…you do want this, huh?”

You tried to summon the strength to shake your head, but it didn’t come. Instead, all you did was lay there as his digit drew a line from your entrance to your clit. Steve’s other hand came up to spread your legs wider, shoving your thighs apart as his finger descended once again.

“I’ll take care of you, dollface,” he promised, eyes focused on your pussy. “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.”

You made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise as he slid his middle finger inside you, slowly dipping down into your core until he was knuckle-deep. Shame washed over you as you listened to the squelching sound of your pussy, and automatically your walls clenched around him, sending shocks of unexpected pleasure through you.

“Ah, god,” he moaned, thrusting his finger a few times experimentally. “So tight. How are you so tight, baby? Hm?”

He licked his lips before leaning forward, and you whined when you felt his breath ghost over your folds. And then his tongue was delving past them, lapping at your clit at a slow, even pace that immediately took your breath away. Your fingers twitched, aching to grip onto the sheets or his hair or something, even though you knew you were powerless.

A second finger was added to the one still inside you, and another stilted moan left your lips as he started thrusting them, dragging them tantalizingly over your walls as his tongue started circling your bud. Your eyes blinked shut, and you tried to fight against the rising pleasure building up inside of you. But it had been so long since you’d done this with anyone, since anyone had touched you like this. You’d been so touch-starved since the Snap, and so alone, and Steve’s fingers were grazing against that one spot inside of you so perfectly. His tongue was velvety against your clit, and your mind was buzzing with how good it felt.

His words echoed in your head you felt the orgasm swelling up within you. It’s ok to enjoy this, it’s ok to let me love you. I love you…

His tongue left you as he ventured a glance up, and you couldn’t help the small noise of protest that you made at the lost contact. He grinned mischievously, increasing his fingers’ pace as your eyes popped open. A louder moan ripped itself out of your throat, and he chuckled as your eyes started rolling back.

“You’re mine already, aren’t you?” he growled. “Look at how much you want this; you need me. Admit it.”

Your mouth hung open as the knot inside of you tightened, but you needed something more to send you over the edge. You needed his tongue on your clit again; you were desperate for it. All thoughts of morality and fear were gone in the face of your pleasure, and you whined as Steve started to slow his pace.

“Say it,” he commanded. “I won’t let you cum until you tell me you need me.”

You gulped, your head rolling to the side as you tried once more to shake your head; you could barely blink your eyes open, much less speak. But the hard look in his eyes left no room for debate, and one particularly hard thrust of his fingers had you babbling what you hoped were coherent syllables.

“N-need y-oh! Need you, S-steve, please, pl-please-!”

That was, evidently, good enough for him, because in no time his head was between your legs again, his tongue placing fast, light kitten licks to your clit. You bit your lip so hard that you tasted copper, but you couldn’t even register the pain as pleasure wrapped you up once more in its tendrils. You panted for breath as your pussy clenched around him, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were gone.

You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your voice raspy and tired. Your body felt as tight as a bowstring despite its temporary paralysis, but slowly you began to relax. Or at least, as much as you could with Steve still lazily lapping at your pussy. He licked up your cum as he watched your face, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes almost looked black. You shivered at the sight, feeling ants crawl up your spine at how possessive the look was.

When he finally did pull away, his beard glistening with your juices, you were completely spent. Sleep was threatening to overtake you, and you were so exhausted that your fear was settled to a dull roar as Steve crawled up to lay beside you.

“You were so good, doll,” he praised. “And you tasted so good… I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

He pulled your hair to the side, pressing a kiss first to the column of your throat and then to your lips as he pulled the covers up around the two of you. His arms snaked around your waist, and you could feel that his cock was still hard as he pressed it against your hip.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk some more,” he whispered. “But for now, just sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

In your tired state, you couldn’t tell if his words sounded more like a promise or a threat, but you were already slipping into sleep when he kissed you one last time.

“I love you, doll. And I ain’t ever gonna let you go.”

______

I’d like to dedicate this story to my PPC anon! Thank you for always being so kind to me. Your support means the world!

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Patronizing Meeting

Primary Pairing? Trio?: MariKana... Dia? Hinted: RinPana, KotoUmi? Words: ~2.1k Rating: G AU: Theater, Werewolf, Werebeast, Monster, Cryptid

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Author’s Note: A bit of a detour from NicoMaki. Honestly, I thought the spotlight would first swing to YohaRiko, but this is what came to mind, so here we are.

Summary: The theater’s primary patron pays a visit.

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“Oh, park there, Kanan-chan!” A voice cried excitedly from the back seat.

Kanan sighed and shook her head. “We can’t just park anywhere on the street, Mari-chan.”

“Uuu…” Mari pouted. “But I want to have a good view of Dia-chan’s new theater.”

Kanan chuckled. “You can see it just fine from here, and you’ll get to see it close up in a little bit. Let me just find your designated parking slot.” She turned the steering wheel to direct the car into the lot.

“We have a designated spot?”

“Of course, you do. Didn’t you read the email Dia-chan sent the other day?”

“I skimmed it.”

“All of the top tier patrons have designated parking slots.” Kanan explained. “And since your donation was the largest, even managing to edge out the Nishikino family, you get the best spot.”

“Of course mine was the highest, I want to help my Dia-chan however I can.”

Her Dia-chan… Kanan mused silently. If only…

While it was true that the three of them had grown up together, they had lost track of each other back in high school when Mari spent her second and third years over seas in the United States before going to college in Italy. Dia also left to attend college in Tokyo, leaving Kanan alone in Numazu.

It had barely been a year since Mari tried to reestablish contact. She managed to convince Kanan to leave the dive shop in the capable hands of a cousin, move to Tokyo and open a new shop right on Odaiba Beach. However, she ended up spending much of her time driving Mari around and leaving the shop to her employees. Not that she minded this arrangement. She enjoyed the excuse to spend time with Mari, and if she was being completely honest, knowing the blonde’s habits behind the wheel, it let her worry less for her friend’s safety.

Driving was also a way for Kanan to feel like she was contributing to the household. Mari was obviously the primary bread winner, so Kanan liked to do things in return.

Mari had found a huge 3LDK penthouse apartment where she invited Kanan and Dia to live with her. However, thus far, only Kanan had accepted. Dia, unfortunately, had been less responsive to either of their efforts to reconnect. But there was a room was open for her to accept at any time.

“Ah, here we are.” Kanan spotted the slot and pulled in.

“Eh? The best parking is on the second level?” Mari sounded confused.

She really didn’t read the email… “Of course, this is where the skyway entrance is.” Kanan explained.

“Skyway? Booo… I wanna see the main entrance!”

At this Kanan laughed. “Alright, just let me message Dia-chan to tell her where to meet us.”

With that said, Kanan exited the vehicle and was about to open the door for Mari, when the blonde hopped out herself instead.

“<Let’s go!>” Mari cheered in English, offering a brilliant smile and pumping a fist into the air.

Kanan pulled out her phone as she followed her energetic friend toward the stairway.

Krakanan: Mari-chan wants to see the main entrance, so we’re heading there instead

KurosawaDia: Very well. See you two in a few minutes.

KurosawaDia: Umi-san will be joining me.

Krakanan: I figured as such

Krakanan: I look forward to meeting your new business partner

Krakanan: I’ve heard good things about the Sonoda Theater Group

Not expecting a response, Kanan returned her phone to her pocket and continued her way toward the front doors of the theater. She and Mari made their way across the street, around the corner and..

“Dia-cha~n!” Mari cried, running up the handful of steps between the sidewalk and the entry and all but tackle hugging the raven-haired woman at the top.

“Salutations, Mari-san.” Dia greeted. “Thank you for coming today. I look forward to introducing you to the cast and crew.”

“Always so formal, Dia-chan.” Mari pouted. “It’s been for~ever~ since we saw each other, you should be more excited.”

Something changed in Dia’s expression. Just for a second. Had Kanan blinked, she would have missed it. And she had no idea what to make of it.

“Anyway,” Dia said after a moment “please allow me to introduce you to my partner in this endeavor, Sonoda Umi.” She pulled an arm free of Mari’s embrace to indicate the blue-haired girl beside them.

“Thank you for your generous donation, Ohara-san.” Umi said with a bow.

“Ohara-san?” Mari repeated. “<No, no, no.> You can just call me Mari. Any friend of Dia-chan is a friend of mine, Umi-chan.”

Pink dusted Umi’s cheeks undoubtedly caused by the casual referral. “V-very well, Mari-san it is.”

“Anyway, what a lovely place you two have here.” Mari finally released Dia and stepped down a few stairs to get a better view of the façade above her. “But, Sonoda Kurosawa Theater? Really?”

“We decided it best to put Umi-san’s name first.” Dia explained. “Her family is more renowned here in Tokyo than my own.”

“No, that’s not it.” Mari dismissed. “I meant, why just your names? That’s so boring!”

“How do you mean?”

“You should call it something more exciting, like The Monster Mash!”

“That is a song, and a dance type.”

“Or how about Tales from the Cryptids?”

Dia sighed. “That’s just a play on the title of an old television show.”

“But I mean that’s what this whole place is about, right? Giving our kind a place to be what they are while excusing any slipups as movie magic?”

“Theater magic, but you’re not exactly wrong.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Umi spoke up “but should we really be discussing such things out in the open like this?”

“Oh, you worry too much, Umi-chan.” Mari waved her hand at the other woman.

“No, Umi-san has a point.” Dia conceded. “Let’s head inside, shall we?” She turned and motioned for the others to follow.

“Fine.” Mari crossed her arms before moving back up the steps. “But you guys hired that Yoshiko girl, right? I think we’ve all seen how her claims are reacted to by the general public.”

Kanan couldn’t help enjoying the show as she watched her friends behave pretty much the same as they did back in high school. They really hadn’t changed much… except for whatever that crack in Dia’s demeanor had meant. She decided she could explore that issue later and smiled to herself as she followed the others into the theater.

“<SHINY!!>” Mari proclaimed, throwing the front doors wide as she entered.

“Pigi!” A voice squealed as a head of red hair ducked below a nearby counter.

Ah, of course Dia-chan would bring Ruby-chan here with her. Kanan thought to herself. I wonder if that means Hanamaru-chan is around here somewhere as well.

“You can come out, Ruby.” Dia said, her tone softening immediately as she called her younger sister and moved toward where she was hiding. “It’s just Mari-san being her usual boisterous self.”

“Mari-chan?” Ruby poked her head up. Emerald eyes sparked with recognition. “Mari-chan! Kanan-chan!” She ran to greet the two excitedly.

As Mari happened to be closer, she greeted the blonde first with a warm embrace. However, she was quick to shift to Kanan to welcome her as well.

“Good to see you again, Ruby-chan.” Kanan said as they parted. “We’ll have to catch up sometime soon.”

“Mm.” Ruby agreed with a smile. “Are you two the reason for the meeting?”

“They are.” Dia confirmed. “I want everyone to meet some of our generous patrons. I believe we have the Nishikinos slated for tomorrow?” She turned to Umi who confirmed with a nod. “Anyway, speaking of the meeting, we should head to the stage now for it.” She was about to turn and resume walking when…

“One last thing, Dia-chan.” Kanan spoke up.

“Yes, Kanan-san?”

Kanan spread her arms wide. “Hagu.”

Dia flushed a little but smiled anyway and stepped into the embrace.

“It’s… good to see you again, Kanan-san.” Dia spoke quietly, surprising Kanan. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little cold as of late.”

Then, all too soon, as far as Kanan was concerned, Dia pulled out of the hug and resumed leading the way through the theater to the stage. Upon arrival, Umi and Dia began their introduction of the theater’s patron, Mari.

It seemed Dia’s penchant for long drawn out speeches hadn’t changed. Kanan considered. And it seemed she had found a business partner with similar tastes.

Ah, there’s Hanamaru-chan. Kanan thought as she scanned the crowd gathered on stage. Next, she picked out Chika and You, remembering their faces from back in Numazu. She made a mental note to greet them all after the meeting.

She recognized Nico and Maki from pictures included in emails sent by Dia about the lead roles for their first production. A few other faces looked familiar from other pictures, but she couldn’t readily place their names.

Still, it was amusing to observe some of the body language of those gathered. There was a young woman with red hair both longer and darker than Ruby’s. She was giving nervous side glances to a shorter girl near her. That girl had some of her blue hair tied up in a bun with a black feather sticking out. Wait, was that the Yoshiko girl Mari had mentioned a few minutes ago?

Next was an ash blonde whose attention seemed focused on Umi. Then, there was another redhead with braided twin tails who looked quite friendly standing next to slightly taller woman whose aura was as cool as the dark blue of her hair. A bespectacled brunette was looking at Nico like a fan waiting for an autograph. A darker brunette with a lovely red ribbon in her hair next to another ash blonde sporting an uneven, though cute haircut. A short pink haired girl with a blank expression stood next to a taller blonde with a brilliant smile. Then a sleepy looking brunette, a raven-haired young woman giving off a fiery aura, another with the tips of her dark twin-tails dyed green and a redhead with a stylish bun surrounded by a braid.

Quite the crew. Kanan found herself wondering what each might be.

“Food’s here, nya!” A voice cried from somewhere in the auditorium before an orange-haired blur scampered down the aisle. “Where do you wanna set up, Umi-chan?” A young woman asked, not seeming to care that Dia was still talking.

“Rin.” Umi scolded. “You’re early.”

“Better than late, right? Oh! Kayo-chin is here!” Rin scampered over to the brunette with glasses.

“R-Rin-chan...” Kayo-chin? said as Rin rubbed their cheeks together. That must be a nickname.

Kanan wondered if the nya had been indicative of her actually being a cat or just a verbal tic. Based on her running speed, Kanan suspected the former, though both wouldn’t surprise her.

“Special delivery!” Another voice rang out.

“Honoka, you’re…” Umi started.

“Ooo, what did you guys order for us?” Mari interrupted.

“We got lots of stuff!” Rin announced proudly. “But I gotta set up the tables and such for Honoka-chan to put things on.”

“Do you need help carrying anything?” The braided redhead spoke up.

“Sure! Lemme show ya, nya!” Rin sped back up the aisle.

“Emma-san…” Umi sighed as the redhead followed.

“It’s alright.” Dia said. “We’ve already lost Mari-san.” She turned back to her staff. “It seems the meeting is adjourned. Please be sure to thank Mari-san for sponsoring this meal, brought to us by Kousaka Catering.”

“I thought she didn’t know what was ordered?” Umi raised an eyebrow.

“I placed the order. Mari paid the bill.”

“I see.”

“There’s plenty of food!” Mari announced loudly. “Don’t hold back! Eat all you want! Take some home if you want. I don’t want to see anything left.”

As Kanan headed up the aisle to see what else needed to be carried in, she mused about the appetites of those she knew. If those were any indications of the others, she wondered just how much had been ordered. She figured it would probably fill an entire…

Box truck.

Sure enough, parked haphazardly on the sidewalk, emblazoned with Kousaka Catering on the side, sat a box truck. And it indeed appeared to be completely packed.

She spotted Emma carrying several catering boxes, stacked past her head.

“The breadsticks are buono!” The young woman said as she passed.

Part of Kanan wanted to break out her other arms in an attempt to carry even more boxes, but as there was no shortage of witnesses on the public street, she settled for a similarly sized stack as Emma. Perhaps some other time. No more than three steps later, and Rin was already slipping past her, carrying only half as many boxes, but speeding along at probably thrice Kanan’s pace.

Again, Kanan found herself wondering what all everyone was. She knew Mari would want to stop by the theater on a regular basis, so perhaps over the next week or so, she could find out.

----------

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[bbwoulfc]

Instincts Sucks Ch.11

Look at that, I finally updated! This chapter gave me quite the struggle. Not fully satisfied with this chapter but sometimes you just gotta suck it up and just post it and move forward.

You can follow the fic here on Ao3 or ff.net

Hope you enjoy the update.

The sun rose above Paris for a new day as the light penetrated through the curtains in one of Le Grand Paris’s hotel rooms.  Movement rustled beneath the bed sheets until teal-tipped black hair surfaced, along with a pair of tattooed arms following behind, arching into a stretch.  

Head leaning back into the pillows, a stream of a sunbeam peeked from the center of the curtains caught Luka’s eyes, making the young man flinch back from the sudden brightness.

“Fuck,” he hissed, turning to his side, back facing the window to hide from the sunlight.  One of the worst ways to wake in the morning.

Feeling the warmth of a body next to him, Luka wrapped his arm around Kagami’s waist and curled against her, revealing the warmth skin-to-skin contact.  He hummed and nuzzled his nose against his fiancee’s cheek and neck, earning himself a hum from her as she began to stir awake.

“Good morning, my flame,” Luka whispered, laying a kiss on the shell of Kagami’s ear.  He slid his hand beneath the sheets and ran his fingers along the bare skin.  “Did you have a good night?”

“Very much so,” she sighed.

She spun around, pushing Luka on his back so she could lay on his chest.  Head resting between his shoulder and collar bone, her right hand laying across his chest.  Luka’s right arm curled around Kagami, holding her close.  He loved waking up in the morning with his muse, his love.

“Since you held your end of the bargain of giving me one hell of a romantic night,” he felt her breath mumble against his skin, “I’m curious about this favor of yours you wanted?”

Luka rubbed his hand back and forth along the curve of her back, “Well... I need you to distract Marinette today.”

“Oh?” a dark brow raised in interest, Kagami’s caramel gaze flickering up to sea blue. 

“Our golden alpha friend wishes to go shopping for some courting gifts.”

“I see,” she hummed, “He’s finally learning to not hesitate.”

The couple chuckled, it’s become a common Tsurugi saying and every time it brought the two to a fit of laughter.

“Very well.  I can distract Marinette for the day.  I’m sure she could use a girl’s day out with friends from everything that’s been going on.”

“Perfect.  But please be careful.  Without knowing who’s going after Adrien and Marinette, anyone could be dangerous.”

Kagami rose up and pecked Luka’s lips, “You worry too much, my song.”  

Pushing herself up, the sheets flowed down her body, bunching up in her lap, “Whoever is responsible for spreading these rumors and info of their private lives can’t be too much threat if that’s all they’ve done.  They sound like nothing but a coward who’s hiding behind anonymity.”

Luka rose himself up, leaning his weight on his hands as he looked at Kagami.  He admired her courage for believing that strength will overcome situations such as this, but when it revolved around anything with her, Marinette, or Adrien, he couldn’t help but feel partially uneasy.  Other than his mother, his sister, and his sister’s girlfriend, these three were his family too, his personal pack.  He couldn’t afford to be non-cautious.

“I understand, love, but remember when we thought the same with your cousin?”

He watched as Kagami froze from her process of getting out of bed.  Her body stiffened, back facing him, her hands curling into the blankets.  It wasn’t an intention to bring the memory back, but he knew it was the only way to ensure Kagami understood his fears.

Luka heard her shutter before speaking, “She should have told us, Lu.  We could have helped her, saved her before she disappeared.”

Kagami felt the weight shift on the bed until the warmth of her fiance’s arms wrapped around her stomach.  His breath breathing against the skin of her neck as he rested his head on her shoulder.  She placed an arm over his.

She heard him softly state, “I’m sorry.  I just wanted to make sure you understood my fears.  You know I’d go insane if I lost you or the others.”

“I know,” Kagami turned around in his grasp and kissed him.  

Once they broke away, she offered him a smile, “You’re very protective, even though people wouldn’t think it.  I love that about you.”

Pushing herself off the bed, she turned, facing Luka.  His gaze glancing over her bare body didn’t go unnoticed by her.  Leave it to her mate to be easily taken by her bare skin.  Damn, she loves her omega.

“Besides,” she watched Luka snap attention back to her, “Marinette will have two alphas and a beta, who can easily pass off as an alpha with how Alya acts.  We’ll be fine.”

Luka smiled, “I trust you.”

Feeling pleased, Kagami made her way to the bathroom, disappearing around the corner and turning on the shower.  With the water running, she poked her head out and saw Luka leaning back, head up and eyes closed with a soft smile on his face.  He was too handsome for his own good she always thought.

“Aren’t you coming?” asked Kagami.

The hilarity of the way his head snapped to her, eyes wide and confused.  She was surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“What?”

“Come on,” she soothed, “my omega deserves an award after taking care of his alpha last night.”

She disappeared back in the bathroom again, biting her lip from laughing at the sound of his whimper, and the soft, “this sexy beast is gonna be the death of me.”  Damn straight she is.  She was gonna make sure he felt the exact way he made her feel last night and leave love bites on that handsome skin of his.  

The more she thought about it, the more she felt they would be running a bit late this morning.  Though she’s sure the others could wait a bit while she spent more time with her mate.

Hearing the footsteps making their way towards the bathroom, Kagami walked into the large shower and awaited Luka.

                                                     ******

 Adrien was waiting on the front steps of the Agreste Mansion when Luka pulled in front of the mansion in his black Audi Q7.  The blonde watched as the passenger’s tinted window rolled down to see Luka, sporting his sunglasses, leaning over shouting him to get in.  

“So, where are we headed?” asked Adrien.

“We’re heading to the La Defense Business District for the Les Quatre-Temps Mall.  I figured that would be our best bet to find anything of interest for your courting gifts for Marinette.” 

Making a right down the next street, Luka quickly glanced over to the young alpha before reverting his attention back onto the road.

“Were you able to figure out a list as I asked you to?  Knowing how romantic you are I’m feeling confident that you jotted down appropriate items.”

He heard Adrien chuckled as he shifted in the passenger seat, “Of course I did, professor.”

Luka sighed out a laugh as he heard Adrien pull out his phone and unlock the home screen, “And you made sure it wasn’t items simply for value?  That all items you thought of were for the purpose of the union?”

“Of course,” stated Adrien as he pulled up the notepad app with his list, softly mumbling, “...even though it was hard.”

Even though it was mumbled, Luka heard Adrien’s slight pout clearly and burst out into laughter.

“Adrien...I know you have all the money to buy anything you can, especially for Marinette.  But when it comes to courting your mate, money isn’t always a necessity.  And you and I both know that Marinette isn’t one for expensive items because she would like them.  Like a true omega, she values what comes from the heart.”

Adrien sighs, “I know.  It’s just so hard not to just spoil her.  She deserves everything.”

“I can understand, believe me.  I deal with the same viewpoint through Kagami.  She wants to spoil me with everything she thinks I need when I really don’t need them.  You two are the same.  Two sides of a coin.  The two of you show your love and affection with your wealth, but know that none of that matters to us more than the meaning behind the gift itself.” 

“No wonder why Marinette always talked to you growing up, you’re so easy to talk to.”

The blonde heard his omega friend chuckle as the car came to the large mall area.  

Cutting back the speed of the car, the two came upon some open parking spots and pulled into one.  Once Luka shut off the car, both men stepped out and were greeted by their two shopping companions; Nino and Nathaneal.

“Hey, dudes!” greeted Nino.

“Hey, guys! Thanks for joining me today,” replied Adrien.

“It’s no problem, man,” said Nathaneal, smiling.  “Chloe was insisting I get out of the studio for a bit. Plus, I might buy some more art supplies while we’re out and about.  Running low on some items.” 

“Yea, man,” came Nino, “Can’t let our bro down, you know.  Bros help bros.”

“Well then, us bros better get started then,” stated Luka.

Before heading off, Adrien took out a pair of sunglasses and put them on.  Turning to Nino, his friend handed him an extra cap hat, a simple black one as he placed it on top of his head and flipped it backward.

Smiling, the blonde looked at Luka and smiled.  The older man looked at his friend with a raised brow, curious for the sudden add ons.

“Trying to stay conspicuous from the media,” said Adrien.

Luka shook his head as Nathaneal laughed, “We’re hanging out with Luka the rock star, Adrien.  It might be hard to stay conspicuous.”

“Well, hopefully, my absence from Paris in the past few years will prevent Parisians noticing me right off the bat.”  

With that, Luka took the lead, ready to get this trip started.  As the men started heading down the shopping center, Luka asked for Adrien’s list to look at as they walked along the crowds of fellow shoppers.

“Not a bad list, Adrien,” said Luka.

Thumbing through the phone, Luka hummed until he nodded his head and handed the phone back to Adrien.

“I’m thinking we should start with the craft stores.  That way Nat could grab what he needs” -looking at Adrien- “and we can start off easy for stuff to buy Marinette.”

                                                      ******

 “No.”

Adrien felt the slap against the back of his head along with Luka’s command.

The blonde swerved to look at his omega friend, “I wasn’t going to buy it!”

The young alpha watched as the rocker raised a brow and pointedly stared at him with disbelief.

“I wasn’t!” Adrien shouted in defense.

“Sure you weren’t,” replied Luka, still disbelieving Adrien’s response.

And to Adrien’s utter disbelief, Nino sided with Luka on the matter.  What kind of best friend would betray him for another friend?!  Well, both Nino and Luka were his best friends but it still stung.  He wasn’t that impulsive when buying things.  Even for a special occasion.

“Sorry dude, I’m sticking with Luka on this one.  I know how you can be when buying things at times.  And with you being all new to this...these hormones of the alpha, there’s no denying that you’ll go on an unnecessary splurge of purchasing, especially for Marinette.”

“Thank you, Nino.”

Adrien pouted as he softly glared at the two men beside him, “Traitors,” -he sighed and mumbling- “I bet Nat would understand as a fellow artist and the needs for Marinette.”

“As artists ourselves” -Luka pointing a finger between him and Nino- “We know what Marinette may or may not need.  I can assure you that Marinette doesn’t need all these things, particularly a new sewing machine.”

Adrien’s whimper only added to the humor of the situation.  Both Nino and Luka rolled their eyes at the theatrics of their alpha friend.  

If left uncharged, Luka was sure Adrien wouldn’t waste time buying Marinette enough supplies that could easily turn her bedroom into a home studio.  And if there was anything Luka knew as Marinette’s confidant, she valued the more thoughtful supplies than new and updated supplies just because they were top of the line’ quality.

“Remember, we’re here for the thoughtful and heartfelt items, not new and expensive,” stated Luka, setting his foot down.  There were days like today that he felt he was a father fighting against his child, but he guessed that’s what it was like when you adopted someone like Adrien as a metaphorical brother.

Feeling sympathetic for his friend, Luka walked up to Adrien and laid a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder.  Giving his shoulder a light squeeze he looked at the row of sewing machines, “I know you want what’s best for her, but perhaps when you decide to ask her hand for marriage,” -Luka looked down at Adrien, smirking and enjoying the reaction of a red-faced alpha- “you can then buy her a new sewing machine.  The one she has now is one she cherishes for a different form of value.  But I promise when the time comes you can spoil her to your heart’s content.  For now, focus on the most desired necessities that she could use more and has a harder time gathering.”

Luka’s smile softened in relief when he felt the alpha’s shoulder’s relaxed.

“Thanks, Luka.”  He looked at said omega and raised a brow, “You know, you’re better with words than you give yourself credit too.  Seriously.  If it weren’t for your love of music, I think you’d make a great guidance counselor.”

That made Luka break out in small laughter, “Thanks, but I’m a little naturally too quiet I think for a job like that.  I’m just comfortable with the people I care about.  For now, let’s focus on the goal we set out for today.” 

He hummed in question, receiving a smile and nod from both Adrien and Nino.

“Alright.  Now, let’s go to the fabric section and see what kind of fabrics they have that Marinette would like.  As you put down on your list, fabrics were one of the items you wanted to get for your courting gift.”

Giving a nod to Luka, Adrien smiled and led the group towards the fabric section.

Within thirty minutes of browsing the fabric aisle, Adrien managed to reel in a total of five fabric rolls he deemed the most important to purchase for Marinette.  However, being the romantic man that he is, Luka, Nino, and Nathaneal had to reel in Adrien a couple of times from buying half the fabrics inventory.  Leave it to the son of a fashion designer willing to buy the store's stocks.

Eventually, Adrien gave in when Luka explained he only had so much space in his car and that they still had to search for his other courting gifts.  The omega knew he was in for a busy day, he just hadn’t imagined he’d spend most of the time, keeping Adrien on track from going overboard with his spending.

Though the moment he thought about Kagami and what she had been willing to do in the past with buying stuff for him, and is still doing every now and then, he assumed there wasn’t much that should have surprised him.  His fiancee and Adrien were practically similar to a core.

With each member of the group grabbing rolls of fabric, the young men traveled to the front of the store for the checkout counter.

The young women managing the counter looked up to greet them as they approached.

“Hello,” she greeted with a friendly smile.  “Did you gentlemen find everything you needed today?”

“I think so,” answered Luka.  “Our friend here” -gesturing towards Adrien- “wanted to buy some fabrics for his girlfriend and surprise her.”

“Aw, how sweet,” she smiled as she looked at Adrien. “She’s a lucky lady.  Did you need the fabrics cut at all or are you buying the entire roll?”

“No, thank you,” replied Adrien.  “I plan to purchase the entire rolls, please.”

“Excellent.  I’ll get these rung up for you.”

As they piled the five fabrics onto the counter, the cashier began to scan each roll of fabric.  Clicking a few buttons, the cashier read off the total amount for the bundles of fabric.

“Alright, your total cost for the five rolls of fabric will be two hundred and seventy-nine euros and eighty-nine francs,” the cashier smiled.

As Adrien pulled out his wallet for his debit card, the group didn’t notice the cashier glancing at Luka with a questioning look.

When Adrien pulled out his debit card to swipe it, the cashier finished the purchase and handed over the receipt to the alpha when she finally spoke to Luka.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but” -the cashier was debating whether to ask or not, but in the end decided to take the plunge- “you wouldn’t happen to be Luka Couffaine? International rock star by chance?”

Luka’s shocked face and overall reaction to the comment answered the young woman’s question.  Behind him and Adrien, Nathaneal glanced at Nino and grinned.  Holding his hand out in front of Nino, he mumbled, “Told you.”

Annoyed and rolling his eyes, Nino pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty euro into Nathaneal’s hand. 

“Oh my god!  I can’t believe you’re back here in Paris!  How long are you staying in Paris? Can I get a photo with you?”

On and on, the young woman kept firing questions as she pulled out her phone from her back pocket and began snapping pictures and recording video.

The commotion snagging the attention of the other employees in the store.

“Rachele, what’s going on up there?” one of them asked as they walked into view a few feet away.

The young woman looked over in full excitement, “We have a celebrity here!  The one and only, Luka Couffaine!”

Her co-worker raised a brow in confusion, showing no knowledge of who she was speaking about.  That eased Luka a little, already being nervous that the current situation might jump into pandemonium if more people knew he was in town.

However, the other employee glanced over to Adrien beside him and recognition took over.

“Oh my goodness,” the woman stated, “Adrien Agreste?”

That was enough for Luka to decide it was time to leave the store before hell broke loose.  The last thing he needed was to end up spending the day running around Paris being chased by fans.  

“It was lovely meeting you ladies but we are on a tight schedule,” he gave the cashier a tight smile and grabbed some of the supplies.  Turning to the boys, “Alright, let’s go.”

Following Luka’s lead, Nino, Nathaneal, and Adrien all grabbed a roll and speed-walked out of the fabric store.  The moment the door closed behind them, all the boys broke out into a run towards Luka’s car.  After tossing the materials into the trunk, all four of them hopped in the car and drove off, heading to the next location for the next item, hoping that the little encounter wouldn’t come biting them in the ass.

                                                      ******

 After the little hiccup at the fabric store, the day went along smoothly as the boys hopped from store to store, helping Adrien find the best among the items on his list.  The simple shades and hat provided enough of a disguise for Adrien as they walked among other Parisians.  

However, after the small incident at the fabric store, Luka stopped by the nearest store that sold clothing and bought himself a beanie to hide most of his hair.  Sure, his highlights were one of his easiest trademarks, but hiding most of it under the beanie seemed good enough to prevent fans from noticing at first glance.

Grabbing the second and third item on his list, Adrien led the group towards the nearest jewelry store.  As the group came upon the entrance of the store, the three other men looked surprised.

“Dude,” Nino being the first to break the silence, his voice soft and small out of surprise. “When we joked around about marriage, we didn’t mean it literally.”

“I’m not going to buy an engagement ring you guys, I promise,” replied Adrien.  Even though the thought of buying one then and there wasn’t tempting. “We’re here to buy a nice and simple necklace that Marinette can wear when she wants. I was thinking of one of those necklaces that has a piece that displays something like their hobbies.  Like, a piece that is an image of a sewing machine or fashion related.”

“Hmmm, that’s actually a nice idea,” spoke Nathaneal.  “I think I’ll see if they have anything for Chloe here.  Maybe one with a bee.”

“I wonder if they have anything with fencing and music,” mumbled Luka.

Smiling at his friends, Adrien led the group into the jewelry store, and each split into their own ways in search of a specific piece of jewelry for their significant other.

Surprisingly for the group, after an hour in the jewelry store, they managed to each find something related to their partners in jewelry.  Nino found a pair of earrings with Microphones and a pair with books. Knowing that Alya had pierced her ears last year and her spike in journalism, the earrings felt like a nice homage to her skills.  He was glad that Alya wasn’t always into the fancy side of jewelry.  She never had the taste for bright and shiny jewelry bits.  It was more of the simple and basic meaning of the jewelry she enjoyed most. Plus, he felt this was better suited for when she was out doing her journalism side gigs. 

As for Nathanael, he found a necklace with two bees and purchased a custom bracelet with variations of art supply pieces and fashion to symbolize their relationship. And most importantly, he made sure they had a nice amount of diamonds throughout both pieces. He knew how much Chloe liked her diamonds, no matter the worth of the diamond.  The redhead omega was proud of his queen bee as she grew into a person that Chloe herself could be proud of and shine.  She might have had struggles with her distant mother in America, but his queen has proven what a protector she can be to those she holds dear.

For Luka, he purchased a custom necklace design with small diamonds and a silver custom fencing foil hanging in the center.  Second, he purchased a silver bracelet with engravings of music notes and their nicknames for one another. Smiling, he placed the items in their specialized box and into the bag. Next to him, Adrien smiled excitingly as he purchased a custom design necklace and bracelet with fashion icons and pink diamond.  He knew Marinette always had a love for pink and felt that it fit her bubbly personality, however, he did pay for a second one with sapphire gems to match her dusk blue eyes thinking it would go along well with more formal outings such as events or dates.

Placing the necklaces and bracelets in their boxes, Adrien grabbed his back and followed the group outside, each one of them shouting their thanks to the employees of the store.

Crossing off the fourth item on Adrien’s list, the young alpha was beaming in pride as he felt things were getting accomplished for his courting for Marinette.  Looking back at his list, the group jerked in surprise when the sound of a cell phone ringer echoed out.  All four men reaching into their pockets, Nino, Nathaneal, and Adrien glanced at silent phones but looked up to see Luka’s expression confused.

“Everything okay, Luka?” asked Adrien.

They watched as Luka’s brows furrowed in confusion staring at the screen.

“I’m not sure who this number is?  I wasn’t expecting any calls from work since I’m taking a vacation right now.,” stated Luka.

“Perhaps you should answer it,” came Nathaneal's voice, “If it’s from work, they might be using a different phone to get a hold of you.”

Still confused, Luka gave a small nod, “Perhaps.”

Answering the call, Luka held the phone to her ear as he greeted the caller on the other end with a hello.

As the other boys watched in silence, the peaceful day they had begun to sour as they watched Luka’s expression turn from confusion to wide-eye shock.

“W-what do you mean she got attacked?  Is she okay?!”

The other boys grew worried as they listened to Luka’s panicked conversation with the caller on the phone. They watched and waited patiently when Nino’s phone went off for an incoming message.

Glancing at his phone, the young beta unlocked his phone and read the text message he received from Alya.  Squinting at the text, Nino’s expression turned to shock as he glanced up at the others.

“What’s going on?” asked Adrien.

Before Nino could speak, Luka hung up the call and glanced at the group, and ordered them to get in the car.

“Luka, what’s happening?” Adrien asked again, panic starting to seep into his mind.

“Everyone get in the car,” ordered Luka.

“Luka!” stressed Adrien.

“Get in the car!” demanded Luka.

Adrien hunched under Luka’s glare.  The bright bluish silver hue glow of Luka’s omega eyes pierced straight into him and froze him in place.  As terrified as he should have been by the older member of their pack, Adrien saw the worry and fear glinting within the omega’s stare.  More concerned about his friend’s fear than the repercussions of his demand.

"Luka” whimpered Adrien.

The alpha watched as Luka flinched and snapped out of his hunch position and leaned away from Adrien.  The blonde watched quietly as Luka took a deep breath, his eyes never wavering from the omega form.  And looking closer, Adrien could see Luka on the verge of tears.  Whatever fear was lingering within Luka, he knew he wasn’t looking forward to knowing.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Luka, “but I was informed Kagami is in the hospital.  I need to get there.”

‘Kagami in the hospital?’

Hearing that Kagami was in the hospital dropped a pit in his stomach.  Though what added to the fear was if Kagami was in the hospital, where was Marinette?

Nino’s voice broke through Adrien’s internal struggle but it didn’t help the fear turn into full-blown panic.

“I know what you’re thinking dude,” Adrien and the others turned to Nino to find the same dread in his eyes.  “Marinette’s in the hospital too.  Tom and Sabine contacted her to get to us.  She’s making her way there now.”

Without a word, Luka and Adrien rushed towards the car, Nino and Nathaneal following right behind them.  Throwing the bags, uncaring where they landed, Luka started the car and sped off into traffic towards the hospital shared to him from the call.

                                                        ******

 How they managed to get to the hospital without ending up in a car accident or simply crashing with the way Luka sped through Paris, they had no clue.  Though the main concern of getting to Marinette and Kagami outweighed all the ‘hows’ of miraculously making it to the hospital unscathed. 

Screeching into the nearest open parking spot, Luka shut the car off, Luka and Adrian were the first to rush out of the car and speed through the parking lot and through the lobby of the building.

Luka quickly rushed towards the window and gathered the nurse’s attention, Adrien moving right beside him.

“We’re here for Kagami Tsurugi and Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” stated Luka.

“Can I ask the two of you your relations to either of the two?” asked the nurse.

“I’m Luka Couffaine, Kagami is my fiancee.  Adrien Agreste is Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend.  We were informed by the family to come.”

Turning to the computer, the nurse punched the two names in and looked behind them gesturing to Nathaneal and Nino.  Luka and Adrien explained they were friends of the family and were asked to join according to the family.  Not that the nurse needed to know the little lie.

Entering the names of the other two, the nurse looked at the group, “Ms. Tsurugi and Ms. Dupain-Cheng are located on the fourth floor in room 29B.  They’re in a shared room.  Go right on up.”

Giving the nurse their thanks, all four men rushed to the elevator and made their way up towards the fourth level.

The moment the elevator doors opened, they ran down the hallway until they came upon room 29B.

When Luka and Adrien entered the room they stood by the entrance and looked shocked at seeing their mate both covered in bandages along with scrapes and bruises.

Moving past the shock, both men ran over to their mate.

Luka whimpered as he stood beside Kagami’s bed and stroked her cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the scratches that took over part of her skin.

“Oh, Kagami,” whispered Luka, leaning his forehead against hers as he tried to calm himself down.

He looked over and took in the bandages that covered arms and a section near the junction of her neck and shoulder area.  Taking in the disheveled appearance of his mate, Luka looked across from him and took in the similar state of Marinette.  Adrien himself looked over her injuries and fretted over her bandages, scratches, and bruises.

What the hell happened to them to end up in a state like this?

Luka felt rubbing along his hand as he took in Kagami running her thumb along the back of his hand as she gave him an assuring smile.  He knew Kagami was strong and could take care of herself.  There wasn’t anybody he knew that could make Kagami Tsurugi cower.

Yet, the question laid in front of him that brought on a rage within.  Who the hell attacked his mate and Adrien’s?  Who would dare lay a hand on an alpha and omega?  

The tension within Luka tightened as the protective nature of his omega instincts grew stronger from the sight of his alpha and fellow omega curled an unfathomed hatred towards their attacker or attackers.  Luka wasn’t a hurricane by nature, not like an earthquake that Kagami can be as an alpha, but when the winds kick in he could be a storm brewing to release at any given time if it called for it.  And right now, the raging storm within him was ready to release its fury on the person who left the wounds on his mate and friends.

He felt the soothing touch of his alpha, Kagami’s burning copper eyes trying to calm the inner beast.  He was sure his eyes shifted and canines elongated from his inner turmoil.  Judging by the growl across from him a few feet, Luka was sure Adrien was in the same mindset and behavior.

“Who did this,” growled Luka.  He was going make sure those responsible would regret the day they harmed loved ones of a Couffaine. 

“I’m not sure, Luka,” said Kagami.  “I didn’t catch a glimpse of the one that ran from Marinette, but the one that I fought against I’ve never met before.  Though I’m sure I ingrained into them what happens when they fight against a Couffaine-Tsurugi.”  She gave him a small smirk and wink.

As much as hearing her say her future name, it didn’t ease the surging anger brewing within him.

“Well, fortunately, I know one of them,” came Marinette’s voice.  

Luka and Kagami turned to Marinette as the two of them and Adrien looked on with waited breath.  They watched Marinette breathe and glanced back at Adrien.

“It was Markus.”

The electricity that surged within Adrien ignited fiercer hearing the name of the man he despised to the core.  Having the audacity to attack Marinette again was a mistake too many.  The growl that broke out of him echoed throughout the room.

“He’s going to regret it the moment I get my hands on him,” snarled Adrien.

“Unfortunately he escaped near the end of the fight before the medics arrived,” informed Kagami.  “However, the other assailant is here somewhere in the hospital.”

That drew both Luka and Adrien’s attention to the young alpha.  Unfortunately for Marinette and Kagami, both bound to the beds, and Kagami is beginning to regret she ever mentioned it.  Both she and Marinette knew that once Luka and Adrien were angry they had a set goal in mind.  And without them there to reel them in, they were both loose without any restraints.

“Luka, don’t,” said Kagami, not even trying to force it as an order.  “You have no idea where this man is.  There are too many floors to go searching.”

She watched as her mate glanced beside her and Kagami turned to follow her gaze and noticed the bags containing both her’s and Marinette’s clothing.

The silver-blue hues burned brighter in Luka’s eyes as he glared at the bags and grinned, his canines glinting under the ceiling lights.

“Then it’s a good thing I can sniff him out.”

If there was any mistake you would ever not want to get yourself into, it was to fall under the wrong side of Luka and Adrien.  

One from wealth and one from chaos, those who fucked up and earned the wrath of an Agreste and Couffaine were in for a rude awakening.

[no6secretsanta]

No.6 - Children of the Sea

Happy Holidays and an awesome New Year, @aoicanvas! I really hope you enjoy this fic! It’s me, @glorifiedscapegoat, and I’m really excited to share this with you. The concept I had kept giving me ideas, so I found myself just writing and writing for a while, and before I knew it the word count was as high as it was. I hope that’s all right!

⁂

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” — Jacques Cousteau

“Here’s your turbo,” Safu declared, sitting down opposite Shion at the booth. They were at their favorite café on the other side of Kronos, perched at one of the large window-seats overlooking the bay.

It was one of Shion’s favorite places, simply for its amazing view of the ocean. The sapphire blue waves lapped against the edge of the pier, the shush-shush sound of the ocean sending comforting prickles down his spine. During the early morning hours, the sunlight glistened across the smooth surface, the pale blue sky streaked with pale pinks and vibrant oranges.

“Oh,” Shion said in surprise as Safu slid the green foam cup across the table toward him. “Thank you. I ordered a decaf, though.”

“I canceled it. You looked like you could use the caffeine.”

Shion exhaled through his nose, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good to argue.  He thanked Safu, popped back the heat-saver from the plastic cover, then took a hesitant sip of the coffee. Safu had doused it with enough creamer and granulated sugar to keep the bitter bite of the espresso from stinging his tongue, but Shion could still feel the caffeine buzzing through him.

“Speaking of caffeine,” Safu said, taking a sip of her own coffee. Having been friends for as long as they had, Shion knew that Safu took her coffee as black as the night sky in the middle of the city, devoid of stars due to the constant streaks of artificial lighting. Shion’s nose wrinkled just thinking about it. He’d never been able to get past the bitterness of the coffee beans. “You might want to bring one to go once you finish that one. Don’t you have the new wave of summer interns starting today?”

Shion exhaled, all traces of his previous good mood fluttering out the door. “Don’t remind me.”

Summers were a difficult time for the West Block Aquarium and, more importantly, its staff. Kronos was a buzzing tourist town, and the summer months brought about college students, wealthy benefactors, and worst of all, summer interns.

“Poor thing,” Safu remarked, taking another sip of her coffee. “Well, maybe it won’t be so bad. Who knows? The interns this year could be… delightful.”

They both shuddered in unison. Shion and Safu had been friends since they were little—Grade 1, to be exact, after Safu got in trouble for punching two boys in the face who called Shion “girly” for his pretty white hair—and both had gone on to pursue careers where interns came and went through a constant revolving door.

Though Shion had obtained full-time employment as a pseudo marine biologist at the West Block Aquarium, Safu had went on to pursue a medical degree working alongside children. Her talent rested with biology (of the mammalian variety, not the aquatic), but despite the clear differences in their professions, Shion and Safu shared one similar headache: summer interns.

“So, how’s your mom doing?” Safu asked.

“She’s all right,” Shion replied. “Just getting ready for the summer rush. Tourists and all that.”

“She’s a saint.” Safu lifted her coffee cup with a solemn expression. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through my undergraduate without the croissants she sent in her care packages.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took another sip of his coffee. He could already feel the caffeine working its way through his veins.

He allowed a bit of silence to fall around him, the only reprieve he’d get today. As soon as he left for work in an hour, his day would be consumed with learning the group dynamic in this summer’s early wave of interns, squeezing work in between answering questions for the flood of customers arriving for the first day of the summer season, and banging his head against the glass walls of the tanks he was in charge of maintaining.

Shion felt something soft rest on top of his head. He glanced up to see Safu tapping her fingers against his temple, softly going, “pomf” to herself.

He leaned back out of reach, fighting back a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out where I can purchase a brush strong enough to tame that mop of yours.” Safu took her hand back, flashing a smile. “It’s such a pretty color, and it’s a shame it just sticks up all over the place.”

“Well, it’s not my fault. I spend most of the time in the water. It’s hard to find a shampoo that can handle all that water damage.”

“Damage?” Safu reached out again and patted Shion on the top of the head. “This isn’t damage. You are the only person alive who can spend seventy-five percent of their life in water and come out with hair this soft.”

“Stop it,” Shion said, but it was light-hearted. His hair had always been a point of conflict in his life. Since the moment he was born—sporting snowy hair and bright ruby eyes—Shion had always fought off rude stares and invasive questions. His mother had helped him construct several convincing lies to help discourage people from continuing to pester him. These lies had ranged from childhood illness in Grades 1 through 4, and then expensive dye jobs during his time as a teenager. Shion had never liked the thought of dyeing his hair, but lying to folks that his bizarre hair and eye color were the results of a bottle of Manic Panic and colored contacts kept them from prying and discovering the truth.

Though, even if Shion did break down and tell people the truth—that his father was a merperson who’d seduced his human mother years ago before splitting without a trace, leaving her with a hybrid son whose hair and eyes and ability to breathe underwater were his only connection to his heritage—he doubted anyone would ever believe him.

Except for Safu.

When Shion finally broke down and told Safu the truth, she’d taken the information with a smile. Coming to terms that there were other creatures dwelling in her world came simply. Safu remarked that new species were being discovered all the time. Of course it made sense that there could be merpeople. The ocean hadn’t been completely explored, after all.

Sometimes Shion wondered why a relationship with Safu had never occurred to him. She was a beautiful girl, and always had been; petite with straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders (she’d let it grow out in recent years), dark eyes that saw everything, and a friendly smile that invited people to let their guard down. More than that, Safu was amazingly kind… to the people she liked. She never judged anyone unless they gave her a reason to assume they were judging her, and she was fiercely protective of her friends.

When they were teenagers, Safu had expressed feelings for Shion that he hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Maybe it was because Safu was accustomed to rejection, or maybe it was because she was just a wonderful, loving person, but Shion’s gentle apology in his inability to return her feelings hadn’t stopped her from remaining his best friend.

And when Shion came staggering home one night and called her, squealing with excitement that he’d found someone like him—someone from the sea—Safu had squealed and gushed with him.

Shion shook the thought away before he could dwell on it. Remembering the summers he spent between the ages of sixteen and nineteen were painful for him. He’d formed a romance with a boy from the sea, a boy Shion could picture himself spending the rest of his life with, and then, without explanation or reason, he’d simply vanished into thin air. Zip. Poof. Gone. As if he’d never been there in the first place.

"Hey, Shion. Earth to Shion.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

Safu took one look at his face, and instantly, she knew. “Thinking about Nezumi again?”

Hearing his name sent a knife through Shion’s heart. “No,” he said, but the lie was pointless. He’d never been any good at telling lies to Safu.

Safu clicked her tongue. When Nezumi stopped showing up at the beach, Safu had been furious. She ranted and raved for months about him, furious that he could break Shion’s heart like that. When the next summer came and he still didn’t show up, Safu’s anger cooled into concern. When another year passed, she and Shion mutually agreed that something awful must have happened to Nezumi and tried to mourn.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she said gently, “or change the subject?”

“Change the subject, please.”

“Of course.” Safu took a deep breath, composing her thoughts, and then she said, somewhat loudly, “Well, it won’t be so bad, right? How long do summer internships last at the aquarium, again?”

“Three months,” Shion said, grateful for the change in topic. He took all the pent-up feelings he still had toward Nezumi, even now, and shoved them to the side. If they festered there and turned into a cancerous tumor, he’d deal with it when that time came.

“Ugh, lucky. Our internships last six months.”

“Aren’t all of your interns medical students, though?” Shion stole a brief glance out the window. He wondered if he would catch a familiar flash of black and silver, and then promptly scolded himself for daring to hope.

“Yes, and most of them are lovely. But then you have those ones.” Safu rolled her eyes, and Shion instantly knew which ones she meant.

The children of wealthy parents whose only major contribution to the field was that they spent a lot of money and therefore expected that their children could sail through the program without any effort. Shion had dealt with plenty of those types, too, working at the aquarium. Wealthy donors often assumed a nice dosage of cash would land their children a high-paying, low-effort job once they finished their degree program. Shion lost count of the number of arguments he and other coworkers had had with interns whose ultimate defense was the phrase: “Do you have any idea who my parents are?”

"Maybe this year will be different,” Shion said, not at all confident. He’d been working full-time at the West Block Aquarium for two years, since he turned twenty-two, and not once had a summer internship term been “different”.

“It could be,” Safu replied solemnly. She and Shion shared a mutual nod, and then smiled.

⁂

With traffic, it was a forty-minute drive across downtown Kronos, and another three minutes to find a halfway decent parking space in front of the West Block Aquarium that didn’t result in Shion needing to sprint across the parking lot like a lunatic in order to clock in on time.

Shion smoothed his hands through his hair, pressing the tangled locks down against his skull. They bounced back up as he dropped his hands to his sides, and he gave up trying to look presentable.

His white hair, no matter how smooth or messy it was, always attracted attention from the college interns the aquarium employed. Most of them thankfully assumed it was just a dye job—an expensive, extremely thorough dye job, but a dye job nonetheless—but it elicited more than a few stares every year.

Shion scanned his ID badge at the employee entrance and ducked inside. He let the heavy metal door bang shut behind him, sighing as he stepped into the foyer of the employee lounge, cooled by the strong air conditioning unit Rikiga had installed. He tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can, briefly considering using the Keurig to make himself another cup.

"Hey, Shion.”

Shion turned and spotted his coworker, Yamase, sitting at one of the little brown tables. He clutched a travel mug of tea—Yamase never liked drinking coffee, remarking that no matter how much creamer and sugar he doused it with, he could still taste the “disgusting bean water”—and he looked utterly exhausted.

Shion’s stomach plummeted. “Interns?”

“Interns,” Yamase agreed bitterly.

Shion huffed out a breath and went to the Keurig. “Please tell me there’s at least a few halfway decent ones.”

He prided himself on being an optimist—it was one of his best qualities, according to his mom, Safu, and everyone else he’d ever talked to, and Shion was pretty certain it was the primary reason Rikiga had given him the job in the first place—but something about summer interns made even someone with Shion’s extensive threshold for patience eager for the workday to end.

“Rikiga’s already deep into his cup,” Yamase explained, rolling his eyes. “Big surprise. Anyway, I’ve only met the first few, and supposedly, we’ve got two others starting tomorrow.”

“So, what exactly are we dealing with?” Shion popped a K-cup into the machine and hit brew. He shoved a paper cup beneath the dispenser and listened to the whir of the machine as the water heated up.

Yamase took a deep sip of his tea. “Well, there’s a girl who’s just started her second year at the community college who thinks she wants to go into marine biology. Kudos and all that, but she’s already expecting that we’ll hire her once she graduates since she’s interning with us.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah,” Yamase groaned. “You know how that’s gonna go. I wonder if we’ll have the parents down here again. You remember that?”

Shion shuddered. “How could I forget?” He could still hear the shrill sound of the woman’s voice as she shrieked at Rikiga in the lobby about why he’d rejected her daughter’s application for full-time employment after she’d “slaved away all summer at this dirty, stinking place, and for what?” Never mind that Shion had found her in the employee lounge multiple times during her shift, sneaking alcohol and trying to steal merchandise from the gift shop when she thought no one was looking.

“Maybe she’ll be a good fit,” Shion said, a little too hopefully.

“She bounces when she talks,” Yamase said drily.

"Excuse me?”

“Like full on hops on her heels.” Yamase gave a small demonstration, bouncing twice in his chair before widening his eyes and giving Shion a blank, dead stare. “She also talks like this.” He raised his voice up at the end, almost as if he were asking a question. “With an upward inflection at the end of it. As if she has no idea what she’s doing here.”

“That is so creepy,” Shion shuddered. “Please stop.”

“You think that’s creepy. Try listening to her do it.” Yamase sighed and took a deep gulp from his travel mug. “The lights are definitely on, but no one’s been home for years.”

Shion pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. Just what the aquarium needed. He plucked his cup from the Keurig and dumped a healthy heaping of sugar and creamer packets into the cup.

“The new hire for the gift shop’s hot, though,” Yamase said.

Shion raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry—he’s our age,” Yamase assured. “I checked. Not in college, as far as I can tell. Just looking for some extra cash at a part-time job or something. And you know I’m not really into guys, but dang, something about this guy just… I don’t know. Just wait until you see him.” Yamase exhaled. “It’s his eyes, man.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took a sip of his coffee. After the turbo Safu had ordered for him, it felt watered down and weak, but Shion savored the buzz of caffeine.

“He must be something, then,” Shion said, “if you’ve noticed him.”

“You have no idea. You’re single, right? Maybe you have a shot.”

Shion clicked his tongue. “You sound like Safu.”

"Well, maybe you should start listening to us!” Yamase tipped his head back and finished off the last of his tea. “Maybe we should strong-arm your mother into it. I’m sure that’d make you start looking.”

Shion couldn’t help but smile. He’d tried dating during his undergraduate, and it hadn’t worked. All the men he went out with made snide comments about his hair— “Do the carpets match the drapes? Ha ha, just kidding. Unless…?”—or thought his fascination with sea life bordered on obsessive. Shion wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting them know the truth: that his “obsession” with sea life stemmed from the fact that he came from the same place.

And besides, none of them had made him feel the way Nezumi had.

Not only did Nezumi come from the ocean—Shion could picture the black and blue scales on his long, elegant tail perfectly, like obsidian and sapphires, and his beautiful silver eyes, like the edge of a blade in the sunlight—he never thought Shion’s ramblings were bizarre. He laughed at him, sure, but it was good-natured and beautiful, like the chiming of bells. He could swim faster and deeper than Shion, and he brought him pretty shells and oysters containing pearls from the bottom of the sea where Shion couldn’t swim without raising more than a few eyebrows.

During their summer interactions as teenagers, Shion had never been able to convince Nezumi to come onto the shore. He knew it was possible—his own father had done it years ago—but whenever he asked, Nezumi quickly changed the subject.

Shion’s heart ached, his eyes stinging. The last time he saw Nezumi, they had been eighteen years old. He could still feel the brush of Nezumi’s lips against his own, tasting of saltwater. Shion could have kissed him forever.

Shion quickly shook the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to get caught up on thoughts of Nezumi anymore. He needed to focus on the new interns and aquarium employees.

Yamase rose and rinsed his travel mug in the sink. The dark blue of his janitor’s uniform stood out against the stark gray walls of the employee lounge. “Well, count yourself lucky you don’t have to deal with most of the interns. You spend most of your time in Number Six. I’m the one who’s gotta spend the whole day trapped in the gift shop.”

Shion cracked a smile. Number Six was the main tank in the direct center of the aquarium, the first major exhibit available as soon as customers walked through the door. Shion’s primary job was to jump into the tank every couple of hours, toss smelt and other dead things at the bigger fish, ensure that the pH levels were safe, and make sure the sand tigers didn’t bully the nurse sharks. Shion never would have pegged sharks to have some weird social hierarchy, but it was there. He’d lost count of the times he’d had to chase away the sand tiger with the blunt snout (who he’d affectionally nicknamed Snubby) from the large nurse shark (Nurse Anne) with the chunk bitten out of her dorsal fin.

Number Six was also known to Yamase and the other janitors as the BFT: the Big Fucking Tank. Shion didn’t like calling it that, but he supposed when the janitors spent most of their shift spraying Windex on the glass and wiping away fingerprints and saliva—seriously, did little kids lick everything?—it made sense they would come to hate it.

The majority of the interns and summer hires started out as cashiers in the gift shop. During his dips in Number Six, Shion could spot the little alcove through the glass, watching as the interns in their bright green tee-shirts displaying the West Block Aquarium logo fumbled through each transaction.

“I wonder if the wannabee marine biologist will try to jump in the tank with you,” Yamase said, eyeing Shion in his periphery. “She doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea of starting as a cashier.”

“They all start out as cashiers,” Shion replied, taking another sip of his coffee. It had already begun to go cold. “She shouldn’t expect special treatment. Retail work can be humbling.”

"Is it twisted that I love watching the rich kids get screamed at by entitled jerks?” Yamase’s dark eyes flashed as he turned to face Shion. “Like, I know retail’s rough and all, but some of these kids are so fucking bratty, and seeing the looks on their faces when they realize that no one cares about how much money they have just warms my heart.”

Shion shook his head. “You’re awful,” he said, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Yup, and you’re equally as awful. I know you enjoy it, too.” Yamase put his travel mug back into the cupboard where the rest of the employees kept their spare mugs. “Well, I need to get out there and make sure the place is ready for opening. Finish up your coffee. You’re gonna need it. You know they’re probably gonna ask about the hair.”

“And the eyes,” Shion sighed. “They always do.”

“You could dye it.”

“Safu would literally kill me.”

Yamase rolled his eyes. “She might, but wouldn’t it be better than dealing with another wave of ‘wait, they let marine biologists dye their hair? Can you wear contacts underwater? Duuuuude.’”

Shion fought back a shudder. Too many times he’d had to deflect questions surrounding his odd hair color and the piercing shade of his irises. Albinism was a rare trait in humans, and Shion’s skin wasn’t nearly pale enough to pass for it. The odd red marking on his skin—scaled, if people looked close enough, which Shion never let anyone do—definitely shattered the illusion. Shion had hoped people would have a bit of common decency and not ask such invasive questions, but he was often disappointed. Almost every summer, someone cornered him in the break room and demanded to know why his hair was so white, what made his eyes red, how many bleaches did it take to achieve that color, did people think he was less professional because he looked like he was cosplaying all the time?

Sometimes Shion wondered if he should joke that he was a merman. Well, half a merman, anyway.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he could hear Nezumi’s voice snap, “Child of the Sea! Not merman. That’s a human word.” His mood instantly darkened, and Shion shook his head.

“Child of the Sea” was the preferred term in the underwater community, or so Shion had been told. Only human beings used words like “mermaid” and “merman”. Despite the wave of sorrow that Shion felt whenever the thought of Nezumi came rushing back, he couldn’t help the small flicker of warmth that kindled itself in his heart.

“Well,” Yamase sighed. “I’m heading back. Rip the Band-Aid off.”

“All right.”

“See you in a few,” Yamase replied with a wave, ducking out into the hallway. “Good luck!”

Shion exhaled and took another sip of his cool coffee. Summer interns. At least he had a reprieve from them when he dove into the tank. He took a few moments to sip his coffee, reveling in the silence he knew would soon be broken. Ah, well. It was only eight-thirty in the morning. Seven o’clock would come soon enough.

⁂

Shion finished his coffee, pulled on his white lab coat, and trotted out to the main foyer. The West Block Aquarium opened at ten o’clock on the dot—despite his active drinking and usual forgetfulness, Rikiga was oddly punctual—and the first hour would be spent preparing for the shift and greeting the interns and summer help.

Shion plastered a big smile on his face and tried to be positive. Summer interns were frustrating, but he had to remember that he was once in their shoes, too. Several years ago, he’d been a bright-eyed intern working at this same aquarium. Ignoring his obvious one-up over the other interns—primarily the fact that he could breathe underwater (secretly, of course) and understood ocean life in a way that astounded his professors and quickly moved him through his undergraduate degree with flying colors—he’d enjoyed working alongside other interns.

As he hurried toward the main foyer, stationed direction in front of Number Six, he couldn’t help but marvel at the decorations welcoming the new wave of summer customers. Bright plastic statues of sea lions and talking starfish lined the floors, gesturing toward the hallways and announcing exhibits. Neat signs with fun facts and information about the exhibit inhabitants sat in front of glass cages, and the sound of rushing water sounded like music to Shion’s ears.

Shion trotted almost everywhere. His colleagues joked that he was always in a hurry. Shion didn’t know if it was because he moved faster in the water than on land, even without the function of a tail, but he couldn’t help it. He jogged everywhere he went: meetings, feedings, the break room. Sometimes he worried he looked ridiculous—a young man in a white lab coat with obviously dyed hair (ha) jogging like a toddler through the aquarium—but if he did, no one commented one way or the other about it.

The four-story tank, illuminated with bright LED lights at the base and on each conjoining floor, wrapping upward in a slanted ramp like a makeshift spiral staircase, rose into view as Shion stepped out into the main exhibit. The brightly-colored tropical fish swam lazily through the teal water, their dark eyes staring blankly out at Shion as he approached the two individuals standing near the door, awaiting his arrival.

Shion swallowed the wave of frustration that surged inside him, caging it behind his clenched teeth as he kept the smile plastered on his face His colleagues had left him to deal with the new interns on his own.

Ha ha, funny.

As he approached the two interns—a young woman with vibrant pink hair (clearly a dye job, and a rather inexpensive one, at that, if the blond roots at the top were any indication) and a young man with dark hair yanked back into a ponytail, both dressed in the bright green West Block Aquarium staff shirt—the girl broke away from the tank and came sprinting up toward Shion.

“Oh, hi!” she shrieked, her voice piercing through the vacant walls of the aquarium. It carried, so sharp and sudden that Shion felt as if a knife had been drilled into his ear.

He flinched—the other intern did, too—and jerked to a halt.

“You must be Shion, right? Mr. Rikiga mentioned you’d be stopping by!” The girl clapped her hands, as if the idea of meeting Shion was too exciting to be contained inside her little body. “I’m so excited to be working with you! My name’s Miyamoto Emi, but my friends call me Emi-chan. Oh, darn, can I call you Shion, or is that too informal? Gosh, this is so exciting!”

Shion gawked down at the girl, unsure of what to say. She looked about twenty years old, short in a way that was noticeable even to someone like Shion. He wasn’t very tall, himself—he rose to a respectable five-feet-seven-inches—and this girl rose to the middle of his chest. She tipped her head back to look into his face, her dark brown eyes wide with excitement, and yep, there was the bouncing Yamase had mentioned. With each syllable that left her mouth, she rose an inch off the ground and then came down hard on her heels. She wore a pair of black flip-flops (definitely not regulation, according to the employee handbook, which Rikiga definitely didn’t enforce), and the rubber soles thumped rhythmically on the solid tile floor.

“Mr. Rikiga said you were a marine biologist,” Emi went on. “That must be so exciting. I’ve wanted to be a marine biologist since I was a little girl. I’ve always loved turtles, and I just wanna be able to work with them. Oh, wow!” Her eyes widened further—how was that possible?—and she stared at Shion’s white hair.

His stomach plummeted.

“Your hair—” she said, a shriek building in her throat. Shion could see it. Her shoulders quaked beneath the force of it, her whole body unable to contain the sheer joy that came from seeing Shion’s pristine white hair coupled with his lab coat. “Where do you get your hair done? Do you do it yourself? My friend Mariko did my hair”—she grabbed a lock of her own pink hair and shoved it toward Shion—“but it doesn’t look nearly as good as yours does!”

“Um, thank you.” Shion gave her a wobbly smile. This was a new development. Sometimes the interns were cold and stand-offish, and sometimes they were uninterested in the position.

This, however? This was new.

Shion felt his head spinning as he tried to focus on the girl bouncing in front of him. He glanced over her shoulder, seeking out the second intern. The young man was staring at Emi as if she’d just exploded and scattered across the foyer in an array of glitter. His hair framed his face, long and pulled into a high ponytail. He had a narrow, pale face, and Shion wondered briefly if this was the young man Yamase had mentioned back in the break room. He squinted over Emi’s head—where did she get the energy to keep bouncing like this?—examining the young man’s face to see what about him Yamase had been so taken by.

The young man was tall and thin, his hair a dark shade of black that Shion suspected would look blue in certain lighting. Even with the fluorescent bulbs in the aquarium itself, he could pick out the few pale gray strands and blue bits that made the young man’s hair beautiful rather than plain. His skin was far too pale for the lime-green of the staff shirt, and it made him look sickly and washed out.

He lifted his head to give Shion a look that clearly read ‘Poor you’, and Shion managed to get a good look at his eyes.

It’s his eyes, man.

Two bright silver coins stared back at Shion, narrowed in a way that Shion recognized as someone trying to figure out where they recognized someone from. His stomach twisted. Flecks of blue and white danced behind a pale of solid silver glass, shifting depending on his mood. When he was happy, they were vibrant and luminous. When he was aggravated, they darkened like the sky over a stormy sea. Shion had seen them in almost every variant, and he stood there, dumbstruck, as the young man stared into his face, too—taking in his bright red irises, the red marking wrapped around his throat, and his vibrant white hair—and finally, finally recognized him.

His jaw dropped. It was an almost comical look, but he managed to make it look beautiful. He unfolded his arms from across his chest, letting them fall limply at his sides.

“Shion?” he said.

His voice. His voice. Shion could still hear it in his memories. The peals of laughter, the shouts whenever they argued, the gentle songs he sang. All of it came flooding back in a crushing wave that made Shion feel as if he were drowning. His lungs were designed to pull oxygen both on land and beneath the surface. Shion would never know how it felt to drown in earnest—but standing across from Nezumi, the boy he’d fallen in love with in his youth, the boy who’d claimed his first kiss, the boy who’d left one day and never come back, Shion wondered if this was how it felt to have all the air knocked out of him once and for all.

Emi’s bright smile never left her face, but her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh. Do you know two each other?” She looked over her shoulder at the young man—at Nezumi—and clapped her hands. “That’s so exciting!”

“Um,” Shion said, taking a trembling step backward. The room around him crushed inward, the air tight and thick. He swallowed once, finding it difficult to breathe. “Yes, um…”

Nezumi’s shocked expression shifted into concern, and Shion felt himself edging toward a full-on breakdown. Shards of glass punched through his stomach, heat and pain radiating through each pulse point in his body until it was all he could feel. He couldn’t sense the solid tiles beneath his feet or the air conditioner churning above his head. His vision tunneled, blocking out everything except the young man standing in front of him—standing! On legs!—in his ridiculous staff tee shirt and his khaki pants, looking every bit like the beautiful, otherworldly creature he was once he stepped into the ocean.

“Ah, w-well,” Shion managed, the words heavy as stones on his tongue. “W-welcome to the West Block Aquarium. So nice to be working with you both. Um, I have to, ah, feed the fish in the BFT now. Ah, I mean, in Number Six. The big tank behind you. Yup, that’s Number Six. I’m sure Mr. Rikiga will tell you all about it as part of the tour.”

“Shion,” Nezumi said, and his voice was equally as wobbly. He took a step forward, and panic surged through Shion’s body like an injection of ice water.

”Goodbye!” Shion spun on his heel and fled back toward the break room. There was an elevator in the far back, reserved for employee usage and available for disabled customers, and if Shion input the code into the panel, it would go to the floor linking to the observatory room for Number Six. It wasn’t available to the public, reserved for marine biologists like Shion to record the pH balances of the tank and the weights of each animal.

His shoes smacked against the tile as he hurried toward the hallway leading to the elevator. The twisting halls that stretched past the rooms dedicated to shells and the horseshoe crab touch tank—popular with the children and high school customers—and Shion rounded them quickly, searching desperately for the signs leading to the elevator.

“Shion, wait!”

Shion whirled and saw Nezumi hurrying up the ramp toward him. He stumbled a bit as he ran, as if he’d been sitting down for a long time and his legs hadn’t quite adjusted to movement. The fluorescent lights caught against the strands of his hair, and the lime green of the staff shirt clashed horribly with his khaki pants and pale skin.

He looked ridiculous. He looked amazing. He looked—

Alive.

“You’re alive,” Shion said, his voice sounding stupid in his ears.

Nezumi stumbled to a stop a few steps in front of him. He was wearing heavy black combat boots (completely against regulation, since the soles weren’t non-marking), and one pant leg of his cargo pants was tucked in while the other hung frustratingly loose around his ankle. “Yeah,” he said, sounding equally as stupid and just as wonderful as Shion remembered. “Yeah, I’m alive.”

“But—” Shion fumbled for something, anything, and came up short. “You—you vanished! You stopped coming to the beach.”

Nezumi winced. “I know.”

The prickles of cold were replaced with agitation that dug like thorns in his body. “I waited for you,” he said, low and harsh. “Every day for months. Years. And you—you never came back.”

Nezumi flinched back as if Shion had ripped one of the decorative plywood sea turtles off the wall and chucked it at him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Shion barked out a laugh. “Five years of no contact—nothing—and now you show up here, at my work, to tell me you’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Nezumi said.

“Then why are you here? You sure as hell can’t be a university student!”

Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed in the vibrant LED lights. “I’ve never heard you swear before,” he murmured wondrously, as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

“Don’t change the subject!” Shion growled. “Where the hell do you get off just—”

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi interjected. He didn’t raise his voice (which only aggravated Shion further), and he kept his hands at his side. Shion couldn’t help staring at each of his long, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt running over his cheek or brushing through his hair while they swam.

“Then why didn’t you?” Shion’s heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. “You kissed me, said goodnight, and then you just vanished. For five years, Nezumi.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Nezumi said, raising his voice just a little. Shion could hear it in his voice that he was struggling not to yell, that he didn’t really have the right to yell. “Something happened, and as much as you meant to me, I couldn’t just—”

Those words stabbed through Shion’s chest like arrows. It’d taken Nezumi three years—three long, painful years—to finally say the words I love you. Shion hadn’t held it against him. Nezumi didn’t express his feelings through words. He translated them in his actions. Shion felt his love in the way he found ways to maintain physical contact when they were together. He felt Nezumi’s love each time Nezumi brought him pretty shells from the deeper parts of the ocean floor.

Shion knew how much he meant to Nezumi. And as angry as he was at Nezumi’s unexpected disappearance, the fact that he was here now must have meant something.

Shion opened his mouth to speak—to say what, he didn’t know—and Emi came trotting down the hallway, huffing and puffing as if it’d taken all her energy to catch up with them.

“There—,” she gasped dramatically, doubling over and pressing her hand against her chest. “There you two are! Why did you run away?”

Nezumi glanced over at her, and Shion took the opportunity to escape. “It’s nothing. Nezumi’s an old friend” —he didn’t miss the way Nezumi flinched— “and things were… well, it’s complicated. But this isn’t the place for it.”

Emi’s dark brown eyes widened. “Ooh?” She looked at Shion, then at Nezumi, and then back. She clapped her hands together. “What’s this? A secret romance?”

“The hell?” Nezumi muttered, despite everything.

“Emi,” Shion said firmly, “now is neither the time nor the place. Now,” he added, looking at the clock suspended from the wall. “I believe you two are due for orientation. Mr. Rikiga will be expecting you.”

“Ooh, you’re right! We don’t wanna be late!” Emi spun on her heel and reached out for Nezumi’s wrist. “Come on, uh, Nezumi, was it? Weird. We’re gonna be late!”

Nezumi withdrew his wrist from Emi’s reach and turned to look at Shion. “I’m out at noon,” he said carefully. Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears, the words slicing through him like a bullet. “Can we talk then?”

“I’m not free until after the aquarium closes,” Shion replied. He didn’t know why he said it, but it wouldn’t do him any good to lie. Nezumi would probably figure out his schedule soon enough anyway.

“That’s fine. How about I meet you here after work?” Nezumi lowered his voice so that Emi, already skipping back toward the main foyer, wouldn’t overhear. “I get it if you tell me to fuck off, but… I’d like to explain myself.”

“All right,” Shion mumbled. “I’ll meet you outside the employee entrance at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be here,” Nezumi said. There was so much strength and conviction in his voice that Shion couldn’t help but meet his eye. The fluorescent lights caught in his irises as he repeated, slower, “I will be here, Shion.”

“Sure,” Shion whispered, and he watched as Nezumi turned and headed back toward the foyer. He seemed to stumble a bit, but even that seemed inhumanly graceful. Shion’s heart ached as he watched him leave.

Eventually, his duties as a dedicated marine biologist convinced him to seek out the elevator, punch in the code to the Number Six observatory floor, and strip out of his lab coat, button-down, and slacks in favor of his West Block Aquarium scuba suit. Dark blue with lime green accents, it was Shion’s least favorite piece of work equipment, simply for its pointlessness. He was a Child of the Sea—at least fifty percent of him was—and scuba gear was wasted on someone who could breathe underwater.

But he couldn’t exactly drop into the forty-foot tank without his gear in front of tourists.

Shion struggled into his scuba suit, his heart hammering a thousand miles a minute. His hands shook as he zipped up his wetsuit, fumbling with the useless air tank (he could breathe underwater, damn it, but the tourists and the interns and his boss couldn’t know that) and all the tubes in their proper place to pump oxygen uselessly into his lungs.

Shion sat on the edge of the top level of Number Six, his vision blurring red and gray. His bright yellow swim fins felt ridiculous and artificial—even though Shion had never been able to grow a tail of his own, his legs more than strong enough to propel him through the water—and his whole body buzzed with anxiety. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself in a way that proved to be completely ineffective, and then he tumbled backward into Number Six.

Sinking down into the depths, Shion let the cold water collapse around him and smother the heat of embarrassment and anger and relief that churned inside him. He sank downward through a small school of colorful fish and past Trudgealong (a withered sea turtle with a no-nonsense attitude), squeezing his eyes closed behind the useless face mask and trying to breathe.

Goddammit.

Nezumi’s shocked face flashed behind his closed eyelids. His voice echoed in Shion’s skull like a pissed off bee, and no matter how hard Shion fought it, he couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to sink beneath the waves with Nezumi guiding him by the wrist, propelling them both along the coral reefs much more quickly than Shion could move on his own.

Shion shook away the thoughts and focused on eying the occupants of Number Six and taking mental notes on their overall health.

For the most part, the fish and assorted sharks looked decent. Shion could sense the increased buzz of excitement radiating from them; he couldn’t “speak to fish”, and Nezumi had confirmed that no Child of the Sea could. He could, however, sense when they were comfortable or agitated.

The fish in Number Six enjoyed the summer rush far more than the staff at the West Block Aquarium did. Snubby, for example, seemed to enjoy preening in front of children who remarked on his crooked teeth and blunt nose with loud shouts to their parents and pointing fingers. These were Snubby’s point of pride, and he swam quickly around the tank to ensure everyone got a good look. If Snubby were a human or a Child of the Sea, Shion felt the two of them wouldn’t get along very well. Fortunately, for both of them, Snubby couldn’t talk.

Beneath the cool saltwater, the red marking wrapped around Shion’s body chilled. These were the only “scales” Shion had on his body, and something about being in the water gave them a more aquatic appearance. The otherwise smooth red marking bristled and slotted with patterns, and if Shion ran his bare finger over it, it would feel bumpy and slick. The vibrant color made him wonder if this would be the color his tale would be if he could grow one in water. Sometimes he disliked not being able to grow one the way Nezumi and other Children of the Sea could, but Nezumi had never made him feel bad for it. In fact, Nezumi claimed, based on the stories he’d been told, Shion was lucky. The tradeoff for most Children of the Sea was that while they could grow tails in water, their legs were weak on land. Some of the most graceful Children of the Sea turned into complete klutzes on the surface.

As a teenager, Shion had laughed himself sick at the prospect of beautiful, elegant Nezumi being reduced to a tripping mess on the land. He often wondered if that was why Nezumi would never come up on land. Nezumi was a proud creature, and Shion often wondered if his pride could survive face-planting on the sand.

But now Nezumi was on land.

Shion shook his head. Don’t think about it right now.

Shion bit down on the breathing apparatus stuffed in his mouth. Something deep inside him made him glance down to the foyer through the clear, teal water. Through the glass several floors down, Shion could see Emi and Nezumi standing in front of Rikiga. Shion watched his boss lazily drift his hand through the air, giving them both the same spiel he gave each intern at the beginning of their first shift. Emi continued to bounce on the balls of her feet, looking ready to explode into a thousand pieces. And Nezumi…

Nezumi looked up into the tank. His eyes met Shion’s, even several stories down, and he lifted his hand to wave at him.

Shion didn’t know what compelled him, but he lifted his gloved hand and waved back.

⁂

At fifteen past seven, when the aquarium had officially closed and the majority of the staff had clocked out and gone home, Shion stood outside the employee entrance, arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart.

Seven-thirty. Nezumi had promised to come back to the aquarium at seven-thirty and meet Shion at the employee entrance.

Shion eyed the cars zipping down the street on the opposite end of the empty parking lot. The West Block Aquarium emptied out pretty quick after the doors closed. None of the staff were eager to pull extra hours, and Rikiga didn’t offer overtime. Shion was an exception—the only one on Rikiga’s staff who was salary—and if Rikiga happened to spot his car still in the lot, it wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows.

He leaned back against the brick wall, the warm stones heating the fabric of his lab coat. He didn’t know why he bothered wearing it. Shion spent most of his time submerged in the tanks, but the lab coat made him feel normal. Human. He didn’t mind being a hybrid, not at all, but it was lonely not having someone like him to confide in.

Shion flexed his fingers. He still remembered the day he and Nezumi met. Shion had been walking down the beach—because what else was a gainfully unemployed sixteen-year-old to do on a sunny summer day in a bustling tourist town—and growing anxious amidst the screaming toddlers and indifferent mothers in their floppy sunhats, Shion had sought out a place where he could dive underwater and go missing for a bit.

Diving under the waves and vanishing, however, wouldn’t work with an audience. People stared at him because of his weird hair (even in a tourist town where teenagers dyeing their hair ridiculous colors was well within the norm), and if he went underwater and didn’t resurface, he’d have the Coast Guard called on him in no time.

Climbing the rocks clustered on the left side of the beach and walking another mile from the main beach, Shion sought out a strip of soft white beach where he could sprint in and vanish. The broken pier attached to the boardwalk (abandoned for months after a nasty embezzling scandal leaked to the press) rose into view, and Shion’s mood brightened.

He ducked beneath the pier, preparing to slip beneath the waves—and lo and behold, tangled in a net and cursing up a storm had been Nezumi.

A fisherman’s net had tangled around him as he skimmed the bottom of the water, and Nezumi had managed to break the net from the boat (rightfully confusing the fishermen in the process, who must have assumed they’d wrangled a shark), but the tight coils had knotted around his fins. Unwilling to be a sitting duck for a bigger predator (believe it or not, Children of the Sea were not the top of the food chain), Nezumi had desperately sought a strip of beach where he could safely work on pulling the net off his tail.

Immediately springing into action, Shion had deftly untangled the knots, whispering to Nezumi that he’d have him free in no time. His mind buzzed with excitement—someone like him was sitting right there—but it didn’t feel like an appropriate time to gush.

Nezumi, who’d growled at Shion when he first approached, went painfully still. His silver eyes, so beautiful and unlike anything Shion had ever seen before, watched each movement of his hands as he worked the net carefully off his fins. Shion fought his own urges to brush his fingers against the dark black and blue scales, jealous and enamored of something he should have had but didn’t, and after a few minutes of careful working, he tossed the vicious net aside and said, brightly, “There! You’re free.”

“Much obliged,” Nezumi muttered, and then, before Shion could blink, Nezumi’s hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him into the water.

The shock of the cool ocean made Shion gasp; that had probably been Nezumi’s intention. With a few powerful flicks of his tail, Nezumi propelled them away from the shore, banking downward into the deeper ends of the shallows.

“You saved me, human,” Nezumi’s voice purred in his ear, sending goosebumps skittering down his bare arms. “So, I suppose it’s only fair to reward you.”

Drowning is a reward? Shion had thought. He’d opened his mouth to tell Nezumi that drowning wouldn’t work on him, that he wasn’t human—and Nezumi’s mouth closed over his own.

Shion’s eyes widened. Nezumi’s mouth was cool, but his soft lips sent waves of warmth through each nerve ending in Shion’s body. His eyes slid shut, the gentle shifts of the ocean waves rustling above his head. Tendrils of Nezumi’s long, dark hair brushed against his cheeks. Shion fought the urge to reach his hands out and brush his fingers through it, wondering at how soft it would feel.

An eternity later, Nezumi drew back, his arms still wrapped around Shion’s shoulders. Shion swallowed a mouthful of seawater and opened his eyes.

Nezumi’s silver eyes hovered a few inches in front of his own. He looked down at Shion—still alive, still staring at him in wonder—and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “You…” he said slowly. “You’re not drowning.”

“I am not.”

“You’re… like me?”

"Yeah. Well, half, anyway.”

“Oh,” Nezumi said, and that had been the beginning of it all.

From the moment Shion laid eyes on Nezumi, he’d known there was something different about him. Not just because he had a tail and looked like a god, but because he wasn’t like anyone else Shion had ever met in his life.

Nezumi had a vicious sense of humor. Nezumi was sarcastic and cold. He mocked Shion and poked fun at his wetsuit—black with bright red accents, because it made him feel at least somewhat attractive and it was comfortable—and he never understood how Shion could enjoy walking around on land when there was a whole ocean to explore.

But there was so much more to Nezumi than his sarcasm. He loved listening to stories. His laugh sounded like bells. He sang songs when he and Shion were alone, and he knocked Safu off her surfboard as a joke until she kicked him in the shoulder and tried to wrestle him underwater, both of them shrieking with laughter.

“Shion!”

He lifted his head, startled from his memories, and spotted Nezumi hurrying across the parking lot.

It was strange, seeing him with a pair of legs rather than a long black tail, but at least he’d changed out of the vibrant green tee-shirt Rikiga insisted his staff members wear to be more visible. Shion had never been more grateful than the day he’d been given permission to wear whatever he wanted as long as he wore a lab coat over it during work hours. As the son of Rikiga’s good friend (Crush, Safu insisted, and Shion gallantly ignored her), Shion received something akin to “special treatment” from Rikiga, though he never asked for it.

He was still wearing the cargo pants and black boots he’d been wearing earlier, but in place of the tee shirt was a black leather jacket that Shion had to admit looked stunning on him. It mixed well with his long, dark hair and piercing eyes; it was a wonder that he’d made it to the aquarium at all. How did he get through each day without a horde of people swarming around him?

Shion looked down at his cell phone. The screen flashed its white numbers, announcing seven-twenty-five. Shion’s heart skipped a bit, and he tried to compose himself as Nezumi trotted up beside him.

“You’re early,” he said softly.

“Didn’t want to risk being late,” Nezumi replied. “You don’t deserve that.”

Shion huffed through his nose. “Let’s go inside. We can talk there.”

“OK,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion let them in the employee entrance. He shut the door behind them, then made a bee line for the elevator leading up to the observatory room near Number Six.

“Where are you going?” Nezumi called after him.

“Let’s go to Number Six,” Shion called back. “It’ll be easier to talk if we don’t worry about people walking in on us.”

“The aquarium’s closed, though.” Nezumi caught up to him rather quickly. He strode beside Shion, his long legs easily keeping pace with Shion’s brisk stride. “Who’d walk in?”

"Well, hopefully, no one. But you never know what employees have left things behind. So it’d be better not to be talking about… things where people could overhear.”

“Good point,” Nezumi murmured.

The elevator ride up to the observatory room was silent and awkward. Shion shifted from one foot to the other, and Nezumi lingered on the far end of the little room to give him space. Shion could feel those piercing silver eyes sliding toward him, then quickly darting away when Shion tried to look back. It sent prickles through his body, and he clenched his fists to focus on something else.

When the elevator dinged and signaled their arrival at the observatory, Nezumi stepped out of the room and half-jogged across the tile floor and toward the top of the tank. The lights had been dimmed, only a few bulbs bright and illuminating the dome. Nezumi quickly unzipped the black leather jacket and tossed it casually to the floor, revealing a long-sleeved yellow shirt beneath it.

“Nezumi?” Shion asked.

Nezumi didn’t answer. He shucked off his shirt, and beneath it he wore a black sleeveless shirt that Shion suspected was meant to keep him from being bare-chested in the water.

“Um,” Shion said, feeling his face heating up. “What exactly are you doing?”

"Proof,” Nezumi called over his shoulder. He swooped down to undo his black boots, kicking them off into the corner beside Number Six’s main pool.

“Proof of what?” Shion asked, but Nezumi didn’t answer. He unbuttoned his pants, and Shion quickly looked away. His face burned, and only when he heard the sound of water splashing did he turn back.

Nezumi popped back up, grabbing the side of the tank and folding his arms on top of it. He rested his chin on his wrists and looked up at Shion. His silver eyes (exactly as Shion remembered, even years later) glittered in the fluorescent lights. His hair was still in a ponytail, several strands falling down over where his ears would be.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew it was really me,” Nezumi said, and with a flick of his tail, he sent a few droplets of water raining down over Shion’s head.

His tail.

Shion’s heart stopped. When Shion met Nezumi, the first thing he’d noticed (after the eyes) had been his tail. Unlike the bright blues and greens of Disney and childhood picture books, Nezumi’s tale was dark black and flecked with deep blue. The fins were wider and longer at the base, almost lace-like and elegant. Beneath the surface of the water, Shion couldn’t seen what they looked like at the hips (he was still wearing the lime green West Block Aquarium staff tee shirt, which didn’t suit him at all), but from his memory, he knew that the scales melded into flesh around his navel.

Shion crouched beside the tank, his stomach tightening. “Why now?”

Nezumi’s tail sank back below the surface of the water. Shion could see it swaying idly back and forth, the way a human might churn their feet lazily to keep themselves afloat in calm seas.

Shion knew Nezumi’s tail would be cold if he touched it. So would his skin. Nezumi was always cold. Not his personality, but—all right, sometimes his personality, too, but mostly his skin and tail were cool whenever Shion touched them. Even years later, he could remember the way it felt to smooth his hand over Nezumi’s hip, counting the blue scales peppered throughout. Nezumi’s tail reminded him of obsidian, black at first glance, with flecks of gray and purple and blue when it moved and the light shifted across it.

Nezumi’s eyes lowered to the floor between them. A harsh silence fell around them, punctuated only by the buzzing of the lights overhead and the glug-glug of the industrial-sized water filter.

“I didn’t mean to disappear for so long,” Nezumi explained, and his voice held so much conviction that Shion didn’t doubt him.

“You said that.”

“When I went back, something… happened.”

Shion raised an eyebrow.

Nezumi’s fingers wove into his damp bangs, which were so long they fell over his left eye, and gave them a yank. Shion’s heart clenched; he recognized it as an old habit Nezumi had when they were teenagers, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. His nails were still pale and long, neat despite the distinct lack of access to quality salon service beneath the ocean’s waves.

“A human found the town where I lived,” he said quietly. “Under the ocean. When I wasn’t visiting you at the beach.”

Shion felt something clamp around his heart.

He knew what it meant if humans discovered the existence of the Children of the Sea. Humans, as much as Shion might have liked to believe otherwise, couldn’t stand knowing that there were resources they hadn’t been able to exploit. And the existence of merpeople would be a scientific miracle—enough that some greedy bastard would utilize it to try and earn millions.

“What happened?” Shion whispered. He hadn’t recalled seeing any breaking news headlines about merpeople; he definitely would have seen something like that, unless the government came swooping in to silence it.

Nezumi’s tail twitched under the water, clearly agitated. “Instead of running to the news,” he said through his teeth, “this idiot decided to try and capture one of us and bring them to the shore as evidence. Needless to say, the rest of us didn’t take kindly to that.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“But what we didn’t count on,” Nezumi said, his voice lowering, “was the oil.” He rested his hand flat on the water’s surface, letting it bounce gently beneath the water and then lifting it back up. “He emptied a container of oil into the water—not sure where he got it—and lit a match. I didn’t know it was that flammable.”

Shion listened as Nezumi explained how the flames had burned the Children of the Sea, who were unaccustomed to the sensation due to their inexperience with burning things. The oil doused them and made them sink below, unable to swim and avoid the flames. The water didn’t seem to stop it, the sticky substance creating an odd shield that didn’t mix well with the water, keeping the two materials separate from each other.

His heart ached at the thought of all the Children of the Sea who had suffered—according to Nezumi’s whispered story, the whole town had gone down in flames. A decent chunk of them had managed to escape, Nezumi included, but the majority of them…

The majority of them had burned to death.

“I’m sorry,” Shion whispered as Nezumi lapsed into uncomfortable silence. “Oh, Nezumi, I’m so sorry.”

“I was so angry,” Nezumi replied. “When I woke up and realized what had happened, I was so angry I couldn’t think of anything else. I was hurt. I was scared. And I couldn’t think of anything except how much I hated humans.”

Shion frowned. Nezumi’s dislike for humans wasn’t new to him. And fortunately, Nezumi had never spat Shion’s half-human heritage in his face. If anything, he seemed as fascinated by Shion’s legs as Shion was about his tail. The only difference was that Nezumi could have had a pair of his own—he stubbornly chose not to—and Shion had never been able to pop a tail no matter how many (embarrassing) times he’d attempted.

“When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was,” Nezumi went on. “All I knew was that my back hurt and everyone else I knew was dead. For a while things were just… bad. I couldn’t move, and when I tried, it just made me realize that there was a chance I was going to die, too, and I hated it. After a while, I could move, and I just left.”

“Left?” Shion echoed.

“I couldn’t stand being there,” Nezumi said under his breath. “Everywhere I looked I could see all the people I knew, and then I remembered that because of one greedy fucking human, they were gone. We took him down with us—Sasori, I think, yanked him off the boat and drowned him—but it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t matter that he was dead, too. It didn’t matter that, miraculously, I’d survived whatever the hell he did to us. It just didn’t matter.”

Shion swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes stung.

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi went on, his voice painfully soft. Shion had to strain to hear him. “I wanted to at least tell you why I was going. But every time I thought about going back to that place, something just made me leave. It’s not an excuse, and I know it’s not a good enough reason to make you think that I just abandoned you, but I couldn’t—couldn’t get past the anger. I hated everyone. I hated myself. I was so angry, and there was no coming back from it. And I didn’t…” He waved his hands, agitated, the words slipping away from him. He huffed and said, “I didn’t want to take it out on you. It’s so fucking stupid, but I didn’t want to shout at you and blame you, and I was so angry with humans that I knew I would. If I saw you then, I’d only see the human part of you and blame you for things you had nothing to do with. That’s not fair. I know it’s not. And I’m not asking you to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me, either.”

“Then why come back?” Shion whispered. He’d moved forward, almost like an instinct, and sat at the edge of the tank, a few inches from Nezumi’s face. “Why come back at all?”

“Because I missed you,” Nezumi whispered back, as strong and as sure as if he’d simply stated the color of the morning sky. “I missed you. When the anger cooled, you were all I could think about. I had no way of knowing if you were even still here, or if you’d even want to see me after I just left, but if there was a chance, I wanted to take it.”

Shion’s throat tightened. He swallowed around the lump that had lodged there and ordered himself not to cry. He was angry. He was supposed to be angry. And yet, beneath the anger was wave after wave of relief that Nezumi was alive.

“So… the aquarium?”

Nezumi shrugged. “It seemed like a good job for a Child of the Sea. I filled out the application and they called me back. I didn’t know you were working here. But once I got a job and… established myself here, I wanted to find you.”

“Established yourself?”

“I wanted a way to prove to you that I wanted to stay. If you told me to fuck off and never wanted to see me again, I would understand. But I wanted a way to prove to you that I intend to stay this time.”

Shion’s hands tightened around the lip of the tank. Emotions whirled inside him like a tsunami, and he felt as if he was caught in the middle of it, unable to surface. Stinging tears prickled at the backs of his eyes, and he forced back the urge to cry. Once he started, he knew he’d never stop. He scraped the back of his hand beneath his eyes, widening them just a bit to keep from crying.

He was still angry. Of course he was. But he couldn’t imagine how badly it hurt. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if his mother’s bakery burnt down, with her and Safu and everyone else he knew trapped inside.

He took a deep breath, feeling it catching inside his chest around the ball of anger and sorrow and raw fucking hope that’d nestled within.

"Where are you staying?” Shion murmured.

Nezumi perked up, but kept his voice steady as he answered, “A motel down on Seventh Street. By the boardwalk. You remember.”

“I do.” Shion pressed his lips together. “It’s not too far from my house. What’s your schedule?”

"I’m off tomorrow, but I think I’m working open to close on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The old man says hours will pick up some time, but he wasn’t specific.”

“Do you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” Nezumi answered, much too quickly, and Shion couldn’t help the laugh that cracked out of his throat. “I can barely walk—don’t laugh at me. This is serious.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Shion said, but his lips were tugging upward at the corners. He had to admit, despite everything that’d happened, it was pretty fucking funny. Nezumi—elegant, perfect, beautiful, wonderful Nezumi, whose every movement was the physical definition of grace—was clumsy on the land.

“Yes, you are,” Nezumi groused, but when Shion stole a glance up into his face, he was smiling, too.

God, his smile.

Even after all these years, he was still as beautiful as the day Shion met him.

“Well,” Shion said, and dammit, if his voice wobbled, Nezumi better not comment on it. “The boardwalk’s on my way to the aquarium, and if you’re working about the same schedule as me, I wouldn’t mind picking you up and bringing you home.”

Nezumi’s eyes widened.

“I’m not ready to forgive you just yet,” Shion explained. “You really hurt me. I understand why you left, but I wish you had just… I don’t know, said something to me so I didn’t think you were dead. I know that might be petty of me, given what happened, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not petty,” Nezumi assured. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, but you almost died.” Shion exhaled through his nose. “And I missed you, too.”

Nezumi laughed; it crackled a bit at the edges, and Shion couldn’t help it. He leaned forward, his arms reaching out—and miraculously, Nezumi reached back. Shion slid his arms around Nezumi’s shoulders and rested his forehead against the crook of Nezumi’s neck. He smelled like sea salt and an odd floral scent Shion had never been able to identify but could always remember. Despite being half fish, Nezumi never smelled like anything Shion would have expected.

Nezumi’s arms tightened around his shoulders and squeezed back. “I really did miss you,” he murmured against the top of Shion’s head.

“I missed you, too,” Shion said, and it was true. As angry and hurt as he was with Nezumi’s sudden disappearance, nothing about that had changed. “I’m not ready to go back to the way things were, and I can’t promise that I will be…”

“That’s fine,” Nezumi assured, burying his face in Shion’s hair. “I’m just glad to be here, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

This was more emotion and honesty than Shion had ever gotten out of Nezumi about his feelings, and it felt as if a sudden, burning heat had cracked through the darkness in his heart. His memories of his summers spent as a teenager came flooding back to him, and all at once, he was back on the beach, stretched out on a scratchy beach blanket with Nezumi’s arms wrapped around him. His tail rested over Shion’s legs, comfortingly cool in the midsummer heat, and heavy in a way that reminded Shion of a weighted blanket.

Nothing about it was perfect. Shion knew this. The frustration and pain wouldn’t disappear overnight, and just because Nezumi apologized didn’t mean he was free and clear of blame. But for a few moments, wrapped in his arms, Shion understood that at least he was back and they could work through it together.

He sighed, pressed himself against Nezumi’s cool, solid body, and reveled in the realization that yes, he was back. He was back, and he wanted to be here. The shush-shush of the water in Number Six fell around them, creating a comfortable mimicry of the waves that’d collapsed over Shion’s head the day Nezumi hauled him into the ocean and tried to drown him. Shion closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Nezumi’s shoulders, and for the first time in years, could finally breathe.

[cierrabiscuits]

Miya Atsumu X Fem Reader : Eligible Bachelor Alt route.

Word count: 5.4 K

Warnings: Some suggestive content, harassment, alcohol consumption, Nightmares, and a dab of angst. Happy ending :) 

 AN: I felt awful for breaking his heart in Sakusa’s route, but I’m atoning for my sins today. I went with a new approach and the ending is very fluffy! Also a big shoutout to @ambershaydeoffical for helping me edit and giving me some ideas! I hyper linked all the songs used! I hope you guy enjoy.-CB

Find Sakusa’s route here

Find Bokuto’s route here

~Story~

 “Why did I ever agree to let you pick me up?” Your hand was gripping the support bar In Atsumu’s car for dear life.

 “Because you love me and you know I’d get lost without my lovely Y/N.” Atsumu gave you a goofy smile as he shifted the gears. 

 “First off I’m your manager, second can you please go the speed limit. I’d like to make it to this charity event alive and in one piece.” You looked over to see him giving you a devilish smirk. 

 “You said we were late, therefore I’m making up for the lost time.” You rolled your eyes at him, but knew he was right. 

 “Maybe I should have let Omi take me, at least he would have driven the speed limit.” You said smirking at the setter.

 “Oh yeah? Well yer stuck with me, besides I play good music.” He spun the volume button on the console all the way up. ‘This is what you came for’ started to boom through the speakers. 

 “Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves And everybody's watching her But she's looking at you, ooh, ooh-” His thick accent attempted to sing along. You couldn't help but break out laughing.

 “Tsumu I love you, but there is a reason you're a setter and not a singer.” You turned the music down so he could hear you.

 “So you do love me?” He whipped his head to look at you. Your face ran hot, but panic came right with the rush of heat.

 “Umm-TSUMU WATCH THE ROAD.” You screamed as he swerved a bit. Your hand found refuge yet again on the support bar. “Thank God we're almost there, you're an awful driver. Maybe worse than Bo.” 

 “I was kind enough to offer you a ride since your car is messed up and this is the thanks I get.” Your car’s transmission decided to go out, leaving you without transportation until it was fixed. But it ended being a blessing and a curse. Blessing being you get to hang with Atsumu alone and not to mention how sexy he was driving the standard shift. Curse being he was a crappy driver and your transmission broke your savings account.

 “In all seriousness thank you Tsumu, you're the best.” You knew you were feeding his ego by saying that, but you were truly grateful. But he didn’t speak or even give you one of his normal cheeky comments. You looked over to see his cheeks glowing red,. You wish you could take a picture of the blushing athlete, but the venue was the next turn off.

 “Tsumu, turn left at the next light.” You could see the huge venue center, the picture you saw online didn’t do the justice.

 “You really sound like a GPS Y/N. Cute.” He turned the wheel with one hand and pulled into a parking spot.

 “You have reached your destination.” You tried to imitate a GPS voice, but failed. 

 “I hear ya, wait here.” Atsumu unbuckled and hopped out of his car. You sat confused but then realized he was coming to open the door for you. He opened your door and offered you a hand which you gladly took.

 “What a gentleman. Tsumu you're spoiling me.” You could get used to this side of him.

 “No fair, Omi didn't open the door for me.” You turned your head to see Bokuto pouting. 

 “You're lucky I even drove you here, quit pushing it.” Sakusa rolled his eyes. “That goes for you too.” He then shot a death glared at poor Hinata.

 “Okay guys less fighting more walking, Now pick those feet up, I need to meet with the event coordinator!” You lead the boys towards the venue. It reminded you of a  Roman colosseum. It was stunning.

 “Wow this place is huge! I bet there's a lot of people in there!” Hinata looked up at the venue it awe.

 “How dreadful.” Sakusa  said, adjusting his facemask. You had to beg him to come. After a little persuading he finally said yes.

 “You already agreed to come Omi, please don’t back out now.” You pouted at Sakusa, causing him to roll his eyes. “Besides we’re already here.” You pointed at the large doors that led into the venue. They all looked excited to be here (Minus poor Sakusa). 

 “I know yer just itching to letcher us. I can tell by the look on your pretty face.” Sporting a smug look, Atsumu leaned on the side of the building. He never missed an opportunity to make your heart flutter. 

 “You know me so well Tsumu.” You smirked at the setter. You turned your attention to the rest of the group. “As you already know this is for charity, so keep it classy. You will also be auctioned off for a date, so whoever gets you, please be nice and respectful. You have a little time to kill so explore the place a bit and put yourself out there.” 

 “We'll be on our best behavior!” Bokuto chimed in giving you a thumbs up.

 “I know. Now let's head in.” You went to open the door but Atsumu beat you to it. A heat tried to crawl its way up your neck, but you pushed it down. There was a time and place to dwell on the way Atsumu made you feel giddy. Now was not the time, sadly. It was hardly ever the right time, being the manager was a demanding position, their public image was one of your main concerns, which meant having an unprofessional fan girl moment was out of the question.

Once inside, you couldn’t settle your eyes to any one spot. To say the venue was packed would be an understatement. It was a flood of designer dresses and fancy tuxedos. It made you feel severely under dressed, but you're not here for fun. As much as you would love to dance the night away with the boys, specifically Atsumu, you were mature enough to realize how important tonight is. 

 “Bokuto let’s go eat! Atsumu isn’t your brother catering some of the food?” Hinata asked, eyeing the onigiri.

 “Yup, he worked all day to make enough onigiri for tonight.” Atsumu said proudly. He and his brother may fight and quarrel, but they are both so supportive to each other. 

 “We better hurry and get some!” Bokuto grabbed Hinata by the arm and ran towards the food.

 “You know where I’ll be. Just come get me when it’s time.” Sakusa walked towards a secluded corner.

 “Now what do you plan on doing Tsumu?” You asked looking around the crowded room. 

 “I don’t know. I’ll probably bother Omi-Omi at some point.” He glanced at Sakusa sulking in his designated corner. 

 “Leave him alone! I need him to stay cooperative.” You wacked Atsumu in the back.

 “Whatever you want doll. I have some orders for ya too.” Atsumu’s bright hazel eyes met your tired ones. Could he tell how nervous you were for this event? What could he possibly order you to do?

 “What would that be?” You looked up at him, ready to deny his request.

 “If you're gonna dance, make sure it's with me. We killed ‘Down on me’ at the last gala we went to.” Atsumu wiggled his eyebrows. You will never forget that night, you were full of liquid courage and danced on him all night long. 

 “Tsumu you have to dance with whoever bids on you. I’m in manager mode tonight and I’m staying sober this time.” You glanced at your watch and it was almost time to meet with the event coordinator. “ I doubt I’ll have time to dance at all. Oh snap, look at the time,I have to go to Tsumu.” You turned to walk towards the stage but he grabbed before you could get too far.

 “Don’t worry, I’ll make my way to ya. Count on it.” He spoke right next to your ear, causing your hair to rise up. He released you and disappeared into the crowd. Your face was burning from the bottom of your throat, to the tip of your ears. Damn that Miya.

~~

 “Y/N thank you for coming!” The coordinator extended her hand for you to shake. 

 “No problem, I look forward to working with you.” You shook her hand and smiled. The flashing lights of the dance floor blinding you for just a moment. You wished you were dancing instead of working.

  “Same here! Now let's get down to the plan. We’ve got a good line up tonight, I’ve got everyone lined up by group size, with yours being the smallest we will have your guys go last.” She scanned the clipboard in her hands. “Have them here in an hour please! I better get going, the rugby team is next and they have a lot of the team here! Ciao Y/N.” She made everything sound easy enough, but the hard part was rounding the boys up.

~~

 The music was booming, and the vibrations went through your body like an electric current. You wanted to dance so bad, but you remind yourself you have things to attend to. You try to spot the boys in the sea of people. You went to the food bar first but it looks like Hinata and Bokuto attacked it already considering there was nothing left. You began to walk towards the dance floor and heard the ‘cupid shuffle’ start playing. It was an iconic dance song, and a fun one to get a crowd going. People began to line up and make room to dance. You notice the tips of Bokuto’s hair, Hinata was on his right and Atsumu was on his left. You needed to reach them before the song really kicked in but It was too late.

 “Just in time Y/N!” Bokuto beamed down at you.

 “Guys we need to get lined up. Plus we still have to grab Sakusa.” You semi yelled over the music.

 “Come on Y/N one song won’t kill ya, well get rounded up quick after this okay?” Atsumu wrapped an arm around Bokuto and Hinata. “Now get beside me, you always mix your left and right up.” He wasn't lying, you loved to dance but sometimes became uncoordinated.

 “Fine.” You accepted defeat and got beside Atsumu, you took the chance to check him out. He looked so good in his suit, he had a grey tux that fit him like a glove. The white shirt underneath was unbuttoned and his tie left loose around his throat. He was too pretty for his own good. The music finally reached the start of the shuffle, and it pulled you from your thoughts. You followed the music with the rest of these boys in perfect sync. Tsumu nudged you in the right direction every now and then, but no one could see his hand lingering on your side. You smiled from ear to ear, it felt so good to dance some stress away and it felt even better to be so close to Atsumu. You watched his smooth movements, he was calculated on the court and on the dance floor. You could tell he was catching the eyes of women besides yourself. But right now it was you dancing next to him and that's all that mattered. The song came to an end and everyone tried to catch their breath.

 “Okay now let's go get Omi.” You lead them out of the dance crowd and toward where Sakusa was. You find him exactly where you left him. He had an intense aurora surrounding him. If looks could kill you would be six foot under right now.

 “Omi It's time to go lineup, are you ready?” You asked and he nodded his head. “Follow me guys.” You lead them to the side of the stage. 

 “So who’s going first?” Hinata asked nervously. You could only pray he wouldn’t puke on stage.

 “Hmm good question, lets have Bo go first, then you, then Omi and Tsumu last.” You felt nervousness creep on you, this was really about to happen.

 “Y/N you really saved the best for last hmm.” Atsumu flipped his hair dramatically. You rolled your eyes at him.

 “Do I have to take my mask off?” Sakusa gave you a pleading look.

 “Whatever is comfortable with you. I’ve put you through enough,” Sakusa sighed in relief at your words.

 “Okay now, make sure to make a good impression and run these rich ladies pockets up.” You smacked your hands together. “I better get going, remember I’m counting on you guys.” You gave them one last thumbs up.

~~

 You got a seat in the front so you could take some pictures of the boys. You were definitely going to get some good ones for the teams Insta. You know what the fans want and you feed them. You were to caught up in getting your phone ready you didn’t notice someone sit next to you.

 “Hey Y/N.” Osamu adjusted himself beside you.

 “Oh. Hey Osamu! Your onigiri was a hit tonight I heard.” Too bad you didn’t get any, you thought.

 “They paid me good for catering tonight, I wanted to make sure it was the best. I even had Tsumu come and try new recipes. He ate so much I thought I'd end up taking him to the ER.” He chuckled. You knew Atsumu loved his brother's cooking. “But enough about that airhead. You looked a little sad earlier when I saw you walking around, Is something wrong?”

  “Everything is fine, I’m just stressed. Plus I want to dance and can’t.” Your hands fell to your lap in defeat.

 ‘Why can’t you dance? Are you hurt?” He gave you a concerned look.

 “No I’m fine.” You smiled up at the twin. “I have to take pictures of the boys with their dates and make sure everything goes smoothly. Plus my dance partner will be taken anyway.” You let out a laugh to hide your disappointment. You really wanted to dance with Atsumu, but he will have fun with whoever gets him. 

 “Oh I see.” He seemed to have a small smirk on his face. “It looks like it’s starting.” The lights of the stage turned on and an upbeat song came on. 

 “Welcome to the annual Valentines day date auction! We are so glad you all could come out and join us. We have a great  line up or should I say roster. This year our theme was sport team singles! Ladies if you plan on bidding tonight just raise your hand when you see the man of your dreams. Shall we get started?” The announcer said hyping up the crowd of women young and old. Neither your or Osamu paid any attention to the stage, instead you made small talk and showed him embarrassing pictures of Atsumu. Your favorite one being his face pressed up against an airplane window fast asleep. You sat beside him on that flight and ended up falling asleep on his shoulder. You remember him covering you up with his blanket at one point, he was a sweetheart when he wanted to be. Time flew by and it was finally time for the boys to get on stage.

 “Next up we have the MSBY volleyball team!” Bokuto was called up, you got some good pictures of him flexing and just being his goofy self. Hinata came on stage and was more collected than you thought he would be. Sakusa came out and was stiff as a board the whole time, but you wouldn't complain considering he was kind enough to even come. And now it was Atsumu’s turn. You saw him walk on stage and your stomach began to feel like a merry go round. His wavy hair bounced with every confident step he took, he was hot and he flaunted it. Your eyes were glued to him, and once he found you in the crowd his eyes locked onto yours. He winked right at you and gave you one of his shit eating grins. You felt the embarrassment creep up on you, your attention went to your phone to take pictures of the cocky setter.

 “I wonder what poor soul will get Tsumu.” Osamu stuck his tongue out at his brother.

 “Hopefully someone who can put up with him, and keep up with his erratic dancing.” You laughed out. If you were being honest you wished you were the ‘poor soul’.

 “I only know one person who fits that description.” Osamu smirked at his brother

 “What?” You looked up at him confused. “Who?”

 “Alright for 175,000 yen, going once , twice...” You eyed Osamu and he reached his hand out and tickled your side, causing your arm to shoot straight up in the air.

 “We are now up  to 180,000 yen! Going once, twice, and sold! That concludes the auction! We hope you all have a wonderful night and a Happy Valentine’s Day.” Astumu gave you one last smile before exiting the stage. You were still in a state of shock as the stage lights dimmed.

 “I know what yer thinking Y/N, but it will be easier if you go talk to the dumbass. He’s a watin for ya.” Osamu got up and left you in a state of shock. You stood up quick and  made a beeline towards the large crowd of athletes. You could feel your heartbeat pick up the closer you got. You just had to know why.

 “Y/N over here!” You heard Hinata’s familiar voice over the crowd. You made your way to him and noticed the rest of the team standing with him. You wanted to congratulate everyone before you interrogated Atsumu.

 “You guys did so well! I’m proud.” You smacked Bokuto and Hinata on the back. “Your dates should come get you soon, remember to have fun and be kind to them!” Sakusa was standing nervously against the wall, you hope someone tame got him. You looked over at Atsumu and he mouthed ‘Let’s go to the lobby.’ You nodded your head and you left the team to find out what was up. He led you through the crowd and into the empty lobby.

 “I hope you're not mad at me Y/N, truth is I had something planned for you this Valentine’s Day, I wanted to surprise you,  but we ended up having to do this which ruined my plans. Kinda.” Your eyes widened at his words. “You may be the team's manager and I may be the setter. But tonight let’s just be Y/N and Atsumu. You won me fair and square so either way you're stuck with me.”

 “Okay, I’d like that actually. But I still have to check on the other every now and then.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “But I have to know, who paid for you really?”

 “Samu did. He was going to give most of his earnings back to the charity anyway.. I didn’t want just some girl beside me tonight, I wanted my girl. So after some begging he agreed to do it. But In return I must refer to him as the superior twin for the rest of the year.” Atsumu had you dumbfounded. You would have to thank Osamu later. 

 “Tsumu what do you mean by ‘my girl’?” Your knees felt like jelly. You knew what he meant, but you needed to hear it.

 “Exactly what I said. I think we both know about each other's feelings. I love you more than Omi loves flu shots and lysol.” This was the oddest declaration of love, but it still made your heart melt.

 “That makes you mine too, right?”  He nodded his head and began to rummage through his pockets.

 “Yes It sure does darlin’. I’m glad to get that off my chest. I got you a little something, close your eyes and hold your hand out.” You closed your eyes and felt his hands clasp something around your hand. “And open.” You looked down at the tennis bracelet you’ve been eyeing for a long time.

 “Tsumu how did you..” You were at a loss for words, the bracelet was something you’ve been saving for. It was a pretty bracelet with a pretty big price tag. You couldn't help but smile.v

 “When we all went to the mall a few months back I went to find you and saw you trying it on at the jewelry store. You looked sad when the cashier put it back in the case. As soon as you left the store I went right in and bought it. And before you say a thing, that smile you have on is worth every penny I spent.” 

 “Tsumu thank you, but I’m sorry I didn't get you anything.” You felt guilty but he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

 “Having you with me right now is plenty enough for this fool. Now let’s go check on everyone and get on the dancefloor.” He began to walk you back into the ballroom. You spotted the boys talking to their dates. Bokuto was with a shy curvy girl, she was absolutely stunning and she was definitely his type. You knew he would treat her good. A volleyball player from America bided on Hinata, they were talking about receives. She was a perfect fit for him. Sakusa was with an older woman, she seemed to be very respectful and calm. She mentioned that he reminded her of her late husband. All was well. They left with their dates and now it was time for you and yours to hit the dance floor. Atsumu grasped your hand and led you to the center of the dance floor. 

 “Tsumu wait.” You stopped a server and downed a glass of champagne.

 “Oh my, here we go again.” Astsumu rolled his hazel eyes. You and drinking never ended good.

 “I won’t go overboard. Now let's go dance.” You began to speed walk to the dance floor. The DJ was playing some straight up bops, you felt the music take over your body and you began to dance. As soon as ‘hips don't lie’ began to play you both went straight feral. You pulled away from him and swayed your hips side to side. Atsumu's eyes stayed glued to you as you let Shakira guide you. You came to a stop when you felt a lingering presence from behind you. You felt an unfamiliar pair of hands linger over your hips. You felt a wave of panic wash over you but Atsumu was quick to react, he wrapped his strong arms around and spun you away from the creep.

 “Don’t even try, she obviously ain’t yours, now screw off asshole.” Astumu held you as close to him as humanly possible while telling the creep off. The smell of his cologne grounded you. The man flipped Tsumu off and disappeared back into the crowd. “Are you okay Y/N?”

 “Yes thank you, but I need a drink to loosen back up.” You said eyeing the bar. You swore sobriety tonight, but you were feeling yourself. “But just one.”

 “Sureee just one,  I know better than that. You’ll be plastered by the end of the night.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear. His thick accent made your hair stand up. You rolled your eyes and led him to the bar. Bokuto was with his date at the bar, he was talking her head off, but she seemed to be interested in what he was saying. You didn’t want to disturb them, but Bokuto called you and Atsumu out.

“Tsumu! Y/N! Drink with us!” Bokuto ordered him and his date another shot.

 “I’m not drinking tonight, I’m the DD tonight. But our manager here is feelin bold.” Atsumu waved down the bartender and ordered your favorite drink. 

 “Don’t get too drunk Bo, Sakusa will kill you if you get sick in his clean car.” You downed your drink. The champagne from earlier already making your head buzz.

 “Yes ma’am, now me and this cutie are going back to the dancefloor. Have fun.” Bokuto held the girls hand and guided her back to the dance floor. They looked so cute together. 

 “I’ve got to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” Atsumu left you alone at the bar. Bad idea. You waved the bartender down and ordered two shots of tequila. You needed to get loose and the sugary drink he ordered for you wasn’t gonna cut it. You downed the shots and felt the warmth in your cheeks. You ordered one more for safe measure. With the evidence gone Atsumu didn’t suspect a thing when he came back.

 “Ready to get back out there?” You nodded  and headed back out. You noticed Bokuto was absolutely throwing it back on that girl, she looked so embarrassed but was definitely enjoying it. Sakusa and the older lady were enjoying a conversation at a secluded table. Hinata was hyping up the volleyball girl as she slowly dropped on the dance floor. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

 “Now let's get back down to business.” Atsumu spun you around and pulled you close to him. “You have no idea how happy I am right now. I’m so glad your with me ” Atsumu planted a kiss on your forehead.

 “Me too, I figured it would be another lonely valentines day, but this was a pleasant surprise.” You kissed him back on his cheek. Under the flashing light you could see the blush spreading on his cheeks. 

 “You won’t be lonely as long as I’m around Y/N. And that is a genuine Miya promise.” He crossed his heart as the upbeat music came back over the speaker. “Now let's get busy.” You two danced with your bodies hot and heavy against one another. It felt like heaven the way your bodies swayed under the strobe lights. It was like no one else was on the dance floor but you and him.  You were fine and then all at once the tequila from earlier hit you like a train. The room was spinning and your spirit was rising. The liquid courage strikes again. You pulled away from Atsumu and stood in front of him.

 “Tsumu you  are so freakin sexy did ya know that?” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his neck.

 “Well yeah I am pretty sexy, but what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” He quirked his eyebrow up.

 “Tsumu, I had a little extra alcohol while you were in the bathroom. Don’t be mad please, but I’m feeling greatttttt.” You slurred out your words. “But don’t *hic* worry *hic* I can still dance, I’ve got a ton of songs left in me.” You looked up to see three Atsumu’s looking down at you. Between the alcohol running through you veins and the bright lights flashing your head went dizzy. The only thing you remembered before passing out was Atsumu saying something along the lines of “ARE YOU KIDDIN ME Y/N.”

~~

“Next on the stage we have Miya Atsumu, he is the setter for the black jackals! He is single and ready to mingle.” You watched Atsumu walk up on stage, your body felt frozen. You watched him but his eyes never met yours once. You heard girls screaming out his name and bidding on him. But he's yours, right? You were unable to move, unable to speak. You wanted to scream out to him, but no avail. 

 “Going once, going twice, and sold.” You watched Atsumu jump off the stage and ran to the girl who won him. He picked her up and spun her around. This can't be right, he was yours. He wanted you, why is he going after her? He looked so happy to be with her, but he was yours, he even said it.  

 “Tsumu why?” Your voice came out finally.

 “Your not good enough, you never were.” He began to laugh at you as the girl pulled him by the tie and kissed him on the lips. 

~~

 “NO!” Your body jolted up. You could feel your heart rate skyrocketing. You realize you had a nightmare, but it felt so real.

 “Y/N what wrong? Baby are you okay?” You heard Atsumu's voice but couldn’t make out where it was coming from.

 “Tsumu, where are you?” You felt hot tears run down your face. You see a lamp flicker on and spy Atsumu wearing a white fitted shirt and boxers. You realize you are in his bed, you could tell from the sheets and comforter you helped him pick out a few months back.

 “Hey, hey It's okay, tell me what's wrong.’ He came over and sat down beside you.

 “Tsumu am I enough for you? You could do so much better than me.” You sobbed out, he gave you a confused look.

 “You’ve always been enough, I don’t need better when I already have the best. Tell me what has you sayin these things.” He began to rub soothing circles on your back.

 “I had a nightmare, you told me I wasn't enough and there was another girl and she kissed you.” Atsumu looked sad as you explained your nightmare to him.

 “It was just a nightmare Y/N, yer my one and only. No one even compares to you.” He kissed your tear stained cheek. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

 “Kiss me.” You blurted out, you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “Tsumu you don’t have t-” Your body fell back on the bed and Astumu hovered above you. 

 “Ask and you shall receive.” He leaned down and gave a kiss that made you lips tingle. He pulled away and look down on you with a gentle smile on his face. “Better?” 

 “Umm.. yes.” You lifted yourself back up. “Not to kill the mood, but what happened, how did I get here?”

 “You blacked out on me princess. I had to get Bokuto to help drag you out of there and load you in my car. I was going to take you home, but I brought you here to make sure you were alright. No more drinking three shots of tequila back to back, Sakusa saw you and ratted you out.” Atsumu handed you some aspirin and a bottle of water he had on his nightstand. 

 “Sorry Tsumu.” You lowered your head in shame. You felt guilty for making him go through all the trouble.

 “Don’t be, you were kinda cute clinging to me.” He got up from the bed and walked towards his dresser. 

 “Uh, Tsumu what is this on the floor?” You asked looking at a pile of pillows and blankets scattered beside of the bed.

 “That is my makeshift bed, I was going to sleep on the couch, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He rummaged through the dresser.  “I’ve got some of your spare clothes from the last team sleepover. Do you want to shower?” He handed you the clothes.

 “Please.” 

~~ 

 The hot water felt like heaven on your tired body. You lather yourself in Atsumu body wash and tried to remember what happened exactly. You can remember Bokuto and Atsumu gilding you to his car at some point. You also remember Sakusa  dragging a drunk Hinata to his car, at least you weren't the only one. You remember a little bit of the car ride, Atsumu drove alot smoother thankfully. You stepped out of the shower and dried off. You felt like something was missing. You changed into your clothes and looked into the foggy  mirror. You reached up to fix your hair and noticed the tennis bracelet Astumu had given you was missing. You slammed open the bathroom door and ran to Astumu’s bedroom, he was laid back playing on his phone.

 “Tsumu my bracelet is missing!” You began to look around the room in sheer panic.

 “It's here, I took it off ya when we got here.” He pointed at his nightstand and you see the bracelet shine under the light of the lamp. You grab your chest and sigh with relief. 

 “Thank God, I thought I had lost it. I would be devastated if I lost the first gift my boyfriend gave me.” You eyes widened when you realized what you said.

 “Boyfriend huh? That’s got a nice ring to it.” Atsumu turned his phone off and plugged it into a charger. “Are you ready for bed, my girlfriend?” That did have a nice ring to it. You nodded your head and climbed into his king sized bed. Atsumu went to get back in the floor but you grabbed his wrist.

 “I’d feel a lot better if you slept next to me. Please.” You averted your eyes.

 “Anything for you, I’m relived you asked really. The floor is not very comfortable.” He lifted the comforter and crawled in beside of you. He kept a distance from you, despite what people may think, he was a true gentleman. You inched you way to his side of the bed and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Your making it obvious you want cuddled, come on over, I don’t bite.” You scooched over and laid your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you securing you in place. Your could hear the soft beating of his heart lulling you to sleep.

 “I love you Y/N.” He softly whispered into you ear and gave your forehead a feather light kiss. 

 “I love you too Tsumu. You’ll be here when I wake up right?” Your eyes struggled to stay open.

 “Yes I will, I will always be here. Sweet dreams my pretty girl.” You smiled and slowly fell asleep feeling safe and loved in his arms.

 Fin

[musical-shit-show]

Two Sides: Chapter 1

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, alcohol mention, brief mention of death

Word Count: 1282

Author’s Note: Okay so I’m honestly really nervous about posting this fic, but I’ve been working on it for a few months now and have really been wanting to get back into writing, so here goes nothing. Please like and/or reblog if you like it, as well as send a message in my ask box if you have any comments! I really want to make some more friends in the Beetlejuice fandom, and seeing as I follow a fair number of blogs on here, I thought this would be a good way to do that! 

As for this chapter, it really is just setting up the relationship between my OC (Cassandra) and Lydia. It really only features these two characters, but I’ll be sure to post the next chapter in a few days. Also just a note that now that I’ve figured out a bit of how Tumblr works, I’ll be posting what kind of requests I will and will not take, as well as some writing prompts. Anyways, here’s my first chapter, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Being invisible can be great. Anonymity in this day and age is a rare commodity, and one must seize it when presented. There’s something about sticking in headphones and disappearing into a crowd that can be so…liberating. Avoiding a random classmate from school year’s past can almost feel like a high, a small victory in the chaos of life.

Other times, being invisible was a curse. It sucked all of the life out of you until you were left with anger and sadness. Sometimes, you don’t feel anything. Invisibility meant no one saw you, the real you, and that left a sickening, empty void. Nothingness.

Cassandra Burke almost always experienced the latter feeling of invisibility. Aloneness, emptiness were sensations she felt on an almost daily basis. No matter how comfortable of a situation she found herself in, more often than not she would retreat from the spotlight. It was just easier to more dominant personalities take hold of the conversation, whether that be at work, a bar, or other social gatherings. Her anxiety often got the best of her, the fear of making one wrong remark blocking her from making very many real connections in this world.

Her best friend, Lydia Deetz, was the only one who ever saw her for who she was. In turn, Lydia felt the same way about Cassandra. Ever since they became roommates their sophomore year of college, the two became joined at the hip, able to understand and appreciate the differences between one another. Both girls had felt that level of isolation in their lives, (though through completely different circumstances), and they bonded instantly. The two fit together seamlessly, like pieces in a perfectly assembled puzzle.

Cassandra can still perfectly remember the night she met Lydia. It was her freshman year, and she had somehow managed to wind up at a disgustingly overpacked frat house on a chilly October evening. Not knowing a soul on campus, she was desperate to make new friends. However, what 18-year-old, fresh-out-of-high-school Cassandra had not realized is that a party filled to the brim with drunk college kids isn’t the best way to make lifelong friends to share all your hopes and dreams with.

Only fifteen minutes after arriving, she found herself pinned up against the wall, being crushed by a sea of people migrating slowly across the faux-wood flooring, which had grown sticky with spilled jungle juice. Cassandra felt a pang in her chest, a telltale sign that her anxiety was about to get the best of her. She clutched her small bag to her side, scanning the room for an exit strategy. If anyone even looked at her, she swore she’d die of embarrassment—

“Hey,” there was a sudden tap on her shoulder, “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

Cassandra spun around, coming face-to-face with another girl. She stood a few inches taller than her, a short black dress clinging to her thin frame. The taller girl also sported a short black bob, heavy eye makeup, and a camera that hung around her neck. Cassandra leaned in closer, unable to fully make out what the girl was saying over the thumping bass of the indistinct techno song that was blaring from the speakers.

“Sorry, uh, what?”

“You look miserable,” the girl said louder, “I am too. Wanna leave?”

Cassandra felt a wave of relief crash over her. She nodded, and within five minutes, the two girls were hastily walking down the sidewalk, their breath visible in the cool evening air.

“So, wanna go downtown and people watch all the drunk idiots out tonight?” the dark-haired girl said, her eyes shining mischievously in the moonlight, “Sometimes if they’re being particularly obnoxious, I like to pretend to hex them so they get all freaked out and leave me alone.” Cassandra stared blankly at the other girl, deciding if she was serious or just messing with her. She extended her arm, “I’m Lydia, by the way. Lydia Deetz.”

“Cassandra,” she responded, gripping Lydia’s hand, “My friends back home called me Cassie. Or Cass.” She smiled sadly, suddenly remembering how lonely she was. Lydia nudged her out of her reverie, a small grin etched upon her face.

“Well, I like all three of those names,” Lydia remarked, strutting confidently down the sidewalk farther towards the edge of campus, “So, you down to scare some inebriated assholes?” After a moment, Cassandra nodded, and the two girls spent the entire night laughing and talking about their lives. Not soon after, they became practically inseparable.

That was five years ago. Now, they were still living together, trading their dorm room for a shoebox apartment in New York City, from which Lydia originally hailed. It was nice. Cassandra was lucky to have Lydia, especially given that her black-haired friend was far more popular than her in their college years. Sure, she was a bit strange, but people at school really took to her. Meanwhile, Cassandra struggled to open up to her schoolmates, leaving her to fade in the background over the past few years.

“Hey Cass!” Lydia called from their shared bedroom, “Have you seen my camera?” Having gained a bachelor’s degree in photography, Lydia had taken thousands of pictures in Cassandra’s presence. Now, she had a desk job at an editorial magazine, and shot photos in her spare time to expand her portfolio.

Cassandra furrowed her brow, searching her memory. “Uh, I think I saw it underneath your bed?” she called back, uncertain of the whereabouts of one of her roommate’s prized possessions. For all the wit she had, Lydia could be incredibly forgetful at times. Seconds later, she heard a triumphant cry from the other room. Cassandra let a small smile flicker across her face.

“Found it!” Lydia said, emerging from their room. She slung the strap of the expensive Nikon around her small frame, “I don’t know what I’d do without this over the weekend.”

Lydia frequented her old house in Connecticut every few weekends. Though she lived there during her high school years, her dad and stepmom had moved back to the city, leaving the house to her aunt and uncle. Cassandra didn’t know much about them, except their names – Barbara and Adam – and that they were incredibly kindhearted people.

Cassandra’s eyes flickered between the grad school application she was finishing and her best friend fiddling with her camera. What she’d give to have a weekend out of the city. She was certain Connecticut in the fall was spectacularly beautiful, but there was work to be done, and more importantly, Lydia had never offered an invitation.

She found this odd, but Cassandra knew how secretive she was about her family. The only relative she ever talked about at length was her mom, who had died when Lydia was in her early teenage years. Why she never really talked about anyone else was beyond Cassandra, but she had just shrugged it off. If Lydia wanted to be private about that aspect of her life, who was she to pry?

She had been so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Lydia staring at her. “What?” Cassandra asked innocently, blinking a few times in confusion. Lydia crossed her arms across her black top, smirking. Lydia was incredibly perceptive when it came to her best friend, and could almost read her mind at times.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow upward. Cassandra exhaled, wracking her brain for any plans she had potentially made. Of course, there were none.

“Nothing.”

“Good, you’re coming with me,” Lydia replied, a playful smile dancing across her lips, “I think it’s finally time for you to meet Adam and Barbara.”

---

And that’s the end of Chapter 1! Like I said, I’ve been terrified about posting this, so if you liked the first chapter, like and/or reblog! Thanks!

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.V

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.IV - ch.VI

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Years went by. Both Dipper and Mabel went through vigorous training under their uncles’ supervision. After allowing Mabel to visit the world, Stanford had combat training be added to her lessons so, if needed, she could defend herself. Now a master of duel swords and a brand new goddess of the arts, Mabel spent her days inspiring humans, helping to keep Olympus beautiful and safe, and exploring the woods throughout Greece.

She also spent a lot of time talking to Dipper. At least once a week he would sit at night and draw in his journal to talk to his sister, swapping stories and inspiring each other to learn and grow.

Dipper was no longer a scrawny little boy, but a strong, muscular, clever young man of seventeen. Stan had never been more proud in his entire life, boxing with the kid and having him go through trials and tests and watching him grow up. He even managed to teach Dipper a few swears.

Stan coughed into his fist, standing at the end of the most difficult obstacle course Dipper had ever been set to. He grinned as Dipper emerged from shark-infested waters, blazing hoops, electric spikes, and racist homophobes, without a scratch on him, and Stan and Dipper high-hived and cheered and celebrated.

“You did it, kid! You were great!”

“Thanks, I couldn’t have done without you.” Dipper said with a smile.

“Obviously.” Stan smirked, earning him a soft punch in the beer belly. “Oof! Okay, okay. You go pack up, ya gremlin. We’re going to Thebes!”

“Isn’t that place, like, the worst place in Greece?” Dipper asked as they headed back to the Mystery Shack.

“You got it, you’ll be just what the doctor ordered.” Stan explained. “Young hero like you can help a lot of people in an Underworld-hole like that. Great place to start out. If you can make it at the Big Olive, you can make it anywhere.”

The men set sail before the sun rose the next morning. For some odd reason, Stan locked up the shack in a way that made it seem like they were never coming back, but Dipper assumed it was only because Stan believed that Dipper could make it big. The young man smiled, determined not to let his teacher down, and made sure they were on the right track.

After sailing across the ocean for a few hours, they floated into a river that traveled along the woods, taking a shortcut for Thebes rather than travel through the sea for Greece. Stan was resting in a chair with a cold drink in his hand, letting Dipper sail for a while, when they heard a scream.

The old man shot up and grinned. “Perfect! A damsel in distress! Good warm-up before we hit down. Lower the anchor here.”

Dipper did as he was told and they crept down the river for the waterfall, where they saw a young lady stumble away, groaning and growling in her throat.

The girl had long, beautiful blonde hair and stunning blue eyes that crackled like raging fire, wearing a long baby-blue dress. She hurried to her feet but was soon scooped up by the enemy that came around the river bend.

A huge Manotaur with a toga around his waist was so huge he grabbed the woman in his fist around the waist. “Not so fast, sweetheart.” He growled.

“Put me down right now, Chutzpah, or I’ll…!” The woman threw a punch at the monster, but he held her away and laughed.

“I like ‘em fiery!”

“HEY!” Dipper yelled from the riverbank and stomped on the river, leaving Stan in the bushes to munch on some popcorn.

“My money’s on Hooves.”

The girl and Chutzpah stared at the newcomer and the monster growled, “Beat it, twerp, I’m busy.”

“Sorry, mister, but you’re gonna let her go, or…”

“Keep moving, junior.” The girl sneered.

“... or I’ll…” Dipper’s sentence dropped and shattered. “But aren’t you… er, a damsel in distress?”

“I’m a damsel.” The woman said as she tried to pull herself free from the giant fist. “I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.” She said with a sly grin with cold blue eyes.

Dipper swallowed and cleared his throat, reaching for his sword. “Uh, ma’am, I think you might be too close to this situation to realize your…” But the Manotaur punched him with so much force that Dipper flew onto a big boulder on the other side of the river.

Stan winced while Chutzpah laughed and the damsel looked bored. “C’mon kid, shake it off!” The old man coached.

Dipper charged, leaving his sword behind, and started to toss left and right hooks back and forth and landing, making the monster dizzy, and then used his head to hit him so hard it was his turn to fly back onto a hard surface, landing behind the waterfall and dropping the girl in the process.

“YES! That’s what I’m talking about, sport! Keep it up!”

“UGH!”

Dipper looked down at the wet girl and gently scooped her up out of the river to sit on a rock. “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. That was dumb… Excuse me, please.” And he and Chutzpah resumed their battle, the demigod using his strength to throw the Manotaur over his shoulder and putting him in a head-lock.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Stan chanted while the girl rang her hair dry, a smirk on her face.

“Not bad, not bad.”

“What are you talking about, he’s great!” Stan cheered. “Throw him a left! Atta boy!”

With one final punch, Dipper made Chutzpah the Manotaur fly up in the air and then come back crashing down face first in the water, a shiny bruise on his snooze button.

“Alright! Nice work!” Stan coached. “You could’ve gone without the distraction from a pair of big goo-goo eyes, but good recovery! Alright, let’s hit the water and move on.” And he walked off for the boat.

But once again, Dipper was distracted. The woman was rubbing her arms dry and sliding off the rock to stand, stretching her slender back; Dipper’s face felt hot and his whole body felt like it wasn’t even there. “Uh… are you alright, miss…?”

“Pacifica.” The girl said with a voice that dripped with sarcasm, like she believed she had better things to do than be standing here and talking to him, but she didn’t know what. “I’m fine. Thanks for the save. So, you got a name to go with all those rippling pectorals?”

“Uh… um, ah… I’m uh… uh…”

“Don’t speak Greek or something?”

“Dipper!” The man cleared his throat and answered in a calmer tone. “M-My name is Dipper. How did you get mixed up with the…”

“Knucklehead with hooves?” Pacifica finished for him. “Ah, you know how men are. They all think ‘no’ means ‘yes,’ and ‘get lost’ means ‘take me, I’m yours.’ Well, thanks for everything, Dip. Bye-bye.” And Pacifica began to walk away.

“Wait!” Dipper called out quickly, a reflex of seeing someone beautiful and cool-headed going away, and he offered sheepishly, “Uh, c-c-can I give you a ride on my boat, erm, me and Stan’s boat?”

“I’m fine,” Pacifica giggled coldly. “I’m a big tough girl, I tie my own sandals and everything. I can look after myself. See ya, Dippin’ Dots.” And Dipper watched as she disappeared beneath a hill.

“Uh… bye.” Dipper said weakly, clumsy on his feet as Stan sailed their small boat behind him, going down the river for Thebes.

“OY! Knucklehead! We going or what?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… yeah…”

Dipper pulled himself on board, smiling with his head in the clouds. Stan sighed and shook his head, muttering, “Twitterpated.”

As Pacifica walked further and further into the woods, the atmosphere got darker and darker. The young lady walked as coldly as the air, unafraid and all too familiar with who was approaching her. When a huge gust of blue fire erupted from the Earth and a floating triangle appeared before the teenage girl, she rolled her eyes and sneered, “Great, I needed cheddar for dinner.”

Bill cackled as he held his three-sided body and kicked his legs in the air. “Oh, my little Llama. Care to explain what exactly happened?” He made a chess board appear before him with various pieces of monsters and anomalies on the board. “I thought you were gonna persuade the River Guardian to join my team for the uprising and, here I am, kinda River Guardian-less.”

“I gave it my best shot,” Pacifica said coldly as she flicked Chutzpah off the board. “But he made an offer I had to refuse.”

“Okay, fine,” Bill replied as he made the board disappear, closing it like a book. “Instead of taking two year from your lifetime sentence, Imma add two on, okay? You got your best shot?”

Pacifica groaned and walked away, leaning against a dead tree. “Look, it wasn’t my fault, okay. It was this Wonderboy who beat your Manotaur up.”

“Wonderboy?” Bill repeated.

“Some new hero who came with this big innocent farm-boy routine, but I could see through that in a Peloponnesian minute.” Pacifica said with a cold snap of her fingers.

“New hero, huh?” Bill said, a hand to what might have been his chin but was really just under his eye. “If some new guy is beating up my minions it could weaken our chances of over-throwing Sixer…” The demon stopped his talking when he heard a voice. He swooped Pacifica up into the trees as a dark cloud, just in time to hide from the intruder.

Mabel was running through the woods with a pig at her feet. He had grown quite large since the young muse had met the pig, and now they both ran as fast as they could, but the teenage girl made it to a tree first, planting a hand on it, making the dead tree sprout leaves with life, and she jumped and cheered and punched the air. “That’s twenty-two for me… How about twenty-two out of forty-five?” She asked Waddles.

The big tired pig flopped over and showed his belly lazily. Mabel awed and fell to her knees to scratch him. “Aw, you’re just a big dummy-dumb. C’mon, why don’t we go see if Grunkle Ford is too busy to hang out. This Mabel’s gotta have some family time.” And she picked up her pet pig and skipped back home.

Bill plunged back onto the ground, dropping Pacifica, who sat on a rock boringly, as Bill glowed red with fire and yelled loudly, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!” And soon every tree circling them was no more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Who’s a cute lil guy? You are!” Gideon said into his hand mirror, sitting at the front desk of the Underworld.

The huge doors flew open as Bill, still red and fiery with anger, entered and grew to the size of a giant before his minion. “YOU SAID YOU TOOK CARE OF THE TWINS!”

“The what now?” Gideon asked calmly.

Bill towered down at the white-haired chubby teenager and bellowed, “Sixer’s brats! The ones destined to stop me from ruling this dimension! You said they were dead as doornails! But the girl is still alive!”

“Yeah, so?” Gideon asked. “The prophecy said both twins had to be there for you to lose. There’s only one. So there. And besides it took you seventeen years to realize Stanford was still dotting on his niece. If anything you suck at keeping up with your own prey.”

Bill shrunk down, shaking with anger and still red, but he had to admit that the jerk was right. “Fine, but the boy, Mason, is dead, right?”

“More or less.”

“”WHAT DO YOU MEAN MORE OR LESS?!”

“He will be when the mortal world is done with him.” Gideon sneered with a crooked smile. “That scrawny twerp doesn’t stand a chance in Thebes.”

“And you know all of this HOW?!”

“It’s fun watching him struggle and lose.” Gideon admitted with a shrug.

“I’m not taking any chances!” Bill yelled and floated away. “We’ve got one year until I can free my friends and take over this dimension! Since I can’t curse Shooting Star into a mortal, I can still kill Pinetree.”

“I’m telling you,” Gideon said, following his boss. “That loser doesn’t stand a chance. I know just who to send to kill him.”

And Bill’s anger melted away as he listened to his minion’s plan and helped make it better.

[doomedandstoned]

Italian Doomers BRETUS Tell Ghostly Tales on New LP, ‘Magharia’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by DamianaMerante

Hailing from the City of the Two Seas, Italian doomers BRETUS return with a new album of ghost stories. Longtimers know that Bretus and Doomed & Stoned practically grew up together. Though the band has been active since the turn of the century, our first exposure came with their debut full-length 'In Onirica' (2012) and subsequently we formed a friendship with the Catanzaro doomers that continues to this very day. It's hard to believe they're already over two decades old (okay, 20 years young, if you like). And what do they have to show for it? A handful of LPs, an EP, and a split with fellow Italianos Black Capricorn.

If you're as much a fan of vintage horror movies, H.P. Lovecraft lore, mysticism, and the occult as Zagarus (vox), Ghenes (guitar), Janos (bass), and Striges (drums), there's a whole world of story and sound awaiting your deep dive into the Bretus catalog. Adding to their already excellent discography, a fifth album now reveals itself: 'Magharia' (2021).

I won't spoil my interview with the band (see below) if I tell you that the album concerns, shall we say, several tales of the supernatural variety. An ominous gong is struck to the backdrop of monastic chant as Magharia opens in epic fashion "Celebration of Gloom," a song characterized by a chugging proto-trash tempo, trve metal stylings, and Gothic vocals appropriate to it's subject. It's a rather grim account of a certain sacrilegious priest and his daliences with young women of the church. As a preacher's kid, I've seen this kind of thing play out a hundred times and can assure you these sweeping romances between clergy and laity never end well. In this case, it winds up with a ghoulish rite and a victim's vengeance.

"In the sky lightning strikes...wicked laments rise from the ground." Welcome to "Cursed Island." True to the spirit of the lyrics, this track really let's it all hang out, with quasi operatic vocals that occasionally erupt in maniacal laughter (reminding me vintage Reagers-era Saint Vitus, with its lusty swagger). And why not? This is after all about the mystery that surrounds one of the most haunted islands on earth.

Thus far, the record's been sporting a pretty up-beat pulse, so surely you're ready for some good old fashion doom? "Moonchild's Scream" concerns a albino girl accused of being possessed by the devil for her appearance. One day, she disappears in the dungeons of a castle and legend has it that her cries can still be heard every five years during the Summer Solstice. Doesn't get more doom than that, folks!

After a brief interlude ("Necropass"), we arrive at my favorite track of Magharia. "Nuraghe" concerns the spirit of a woman judged and condemned for a crime she was innocent of still roams among the ancient stones. Boy, the ancients sure did have a hang-up with free-spirited, independent women, didn't they? The song itself is possessed by the spirit of Pentagram in its biting guitar work and rhythmic attack. Love the riffage on this one! Some of it could have been played out just a little more for my taste, like the all-too-brief Soundgardenesque motif at the two-minute mark. It returns a minute later, again in brief. C'mon Ghenes, let your inner Kim Thayil loose! Maybe we can convince them to improv at this point with a bitchin' guitar solo at their next festival appearance. Then again, perhaps this fits artistically with the song, which speaks of obscure "grim dancing bats" and a ghost that haunts through swift shadows passing over glimmers of light. Once again, Zagrus expressive song style comes through to distinguish this as a gem of the genre. I shall be revisiting it on my personal playlist often.

"Headless Ghost" strikes graceful Goatsnake groove as the yarn is spun about the restless and tormented soul of an ancient Roman warrior who has risen from his place of rest. All he wants is the skull that was looted from his place of burial. Give it back to him! "No one will be spared tonight," the lyrics warn, as the song shifts down to a dire doom dirge as the night unveils a strange moon and the wanderings of a cursed soul, seeking his head and not more. "He is living again in this hell."

"The Bridge of Damnation" is one of the creepiest of the record, said to be about "a bridge, a young boy, and his three torturers." The mood is quite dark, with esoteric atmosphere, reverberating vocalizations, guitar and bass trading off notes. Oh, and did I mention this tale from the crypt involves death and resurrection, as well? The riffmaking and drumming are absolutely on point, as is the singing -- which by now in the record I'm not only am accustomed to, but have grown to admire. Another keeper!

"Sinful Nun" winds and grinds as Zagarus croons about the inner torment of a Sister who has never gotten over her beloved, who died under such unspeakably tragic circumstances that she decided to consecrate herself to God in celibacy. However, her vows are in vain as she still pines for her long lost lover. The verses are sung to the accompaniment of a galloping tempo, which seems to represent the fevered anguish of a soul forever stricken by grief and the haunted memories of lost love. This is juxtaposed in the chorus by a cursed riff that seems to speak as the Hand of Fate itself. "Farewell to this life," are the Sinful Nun's final words.

At last, we reach the album's namesake and though "Magharia" is entirely instrumental, it would be a mistake to assume you know what it's going to do. Around the four-minute mark, I had to check and make sure I was listening to the same album, as dark synth busted out a metronomic rhythm, leading to a declamatory section of keyboards to accompany the math-like guitar play and an improvisation of almost creepy seventies-sounding prog, which after its playful fit dissipates suddenly in a bluesy collapse.

Bretus have cooked up a remarkable horror soundtrack that, though it speaks of ancient lore, is very much a fitting backdrop to the unreality of our own times. Fitting somewhere on the stylistic spectrum between Candlemass and Paul Chain, Reverend Bizarre and Cardinals Folly, Margharia may be the band's finest effort to date. Certainly, it rewards repeated listens, and will haunt you for many years to come. Look for the record to drop this weekend (pre-order here), with multiple physical formats releasing via The Swamp Records (compact disc), Burning Coffin Records (cassette), and Overdrive Records (vinyl). Until then, you can stream it all, right now, right here!

Give ear...

Magharia by BRETUS

An Interview with Bretus

What is the concept behind the new album and what themes do you explore?

Musically the new record is most "in your face" than the previous album. Also our approach to the recording was different. We rehearsed and arranged together more than before. The result is an album more raw to us. It is a concept album born around different italian old ghost tales. Some of these is supposed to be legend or myth, who knows.

When did you write it? Was it during the pandemic lockdowns?

We had more ideas about new stuff long before the pandemia arrived. We spent this time working on the pre-production of the tracks.

Can you give us a track-by-track explanation of each song on the album?

For sure!

"Celebration of Gloom" is a strange song because there are many influences in it. Including a solo flute in the middle of the track. However is a very loud and gloomy song.

"Cursed Island" probably is the most rock 'n' roll song of the album. If you know what I mean. Rock in the attitude. Also the first video of the album.

"Moonchild's Scream" is 100% pure Doom with a heavy mid-section.

"Necropass" is like Caronte travelling the damned souls across the Stige River.

"Nuraghe" is a heavy oriented track with a very dark feeling.

"Headless Ghost" has a more stoner trend than the others and in the end there is a psycho riffing.

"The Bridge of Damnation" includes our '80s dark influences into our sound, probably the most haunted track of the album. The story is based upon an old weird story that happened in our native city, Catanzaro.

"Sinful Nun" is like an experiment and neither of us can explain really what it is... ah ah aha! For sure the most heavy track of all.

Finally "Magharia." You cannot believe it but the idea comes from a Who's album, Quadrophenia. Either of us wrote a part of the song. The result is a kind of horror soundtrack.

Magharia by BRETUS

How do you feel that your basic style or approach to song composition has changed since you first started writing songs in the early days?

You already know a lot of things about us, we know you from so long ago! Please don't ask how old we are. (laughs) Basically our approach is the same from the beginning. Of course we listen to a lot of new stuff during these years so every album brings different "colors."

Where are you most looking forward to playing live once pandemic restrictions are eased?

Everywhere! We are angry for live gigs or simply to drink beers with friends.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[that-nerdy-ravenclaww]

Jealous ♫ D.M.

A/N: Hiya! This is my entry for @firewhisky-kisses​ writing contest! It’s a Draco Malfoy x Reader angst and features of my favorite songs, Jealous by Labrinth and the prompt “Please, don’t do this. Please.” I hope you like it!

♫

"I can’t do this anymore, Draco.” She spoke up after a few minutes to uncomfortable silence, her words some the Malfoy heir never expected to hear. He lifted his head from the Potions book in his lap, the ingredients on it no longer interesting him more than the petite girl in front of him. She was propped against one of the armchairs in his family’s study, her formal robes replaced by a pair of fitted jeans and a jumper he rarely saw her wear anymore. Her long hair was tied in a top knot, leaving her blemish-free face and ocean eyes uncovered. She wore no jewelry, not even the pearls he’d spent his Christmas allowance on, and no makeup. 

“Pardon?” His voice held a hint of confusion as he moved to situate himself at her feet, his hands unconsciously going to pull her to him. He frowned when she didn’t. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” She repeated softly, her eyes meeting his. They were sparkling with the beginnings of tears. “I can’t sit here and watch you become a Death Eater knowing you deserve so much better. I can’t kiss your cheeks or hold your hand knowing it might be the last time I ever get to do so. And I can’t stand by and watch you pledge your allegiance to someone you despise just to make your parents proud.” Draco swore he stopped breathing as he watched her slowly rise to her feet and slip on a pair of flats, the realization of what she was saying sinking in like a knife to warm butter. 

“Don’t say that. Y-you don’t mean it.” He stuttered, practically jumping to his feet to confront the woman he loved with every last piece of him. His eyes searched for hers but she had focused them on a bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf they both knew led to the place where Lord Voldemort held his meetings. His arm began to burn, but it didn’t hurt nearly as badly as his chest did in this moment. It felt as if the pureblood witch in front of him had reached into his chest, wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around his heart, and squeezed until it became nothing but a drained organ. 

“I do Draco, I really do.” She stepped around him then and wiped away a tear that had fallen, evidence their parting hurt her just as much as it hurt him. 

“NO! Please, don’t do this. Please.” He pleaded, tears pricking his vision as he reached out to grab her hand. He couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Draco. I really am.” And then she was gone, her body being transported somewhere else with a loud crack. Draco fell to his knees, broken sobs leaving his plump lips as he mourned the loss of his lover. Unbeknownst to him, she was crying too.

It was the twelfth of October when he saw her again, nearly three years later. She was on the front page of the Daily Prophet, her arm interlocked with a man sporting fire engine red hair and a hideous suit. It was raining but neither of them looked to care, their smiles wide, eyes locked, and hips touching. They looked indescribably happy and a little too close to just be the business partners the headline claimed them to be. Draco scoffed and crumpled up the bloody paper, annoyed.

I’m jealous of the rain

That falls upon your skin

It’s closer than my hands have been

I’m jealous of the rain

“She deserves better than a blasted Weasley,” He snarled, tossing the crumpled ball of paper into the fire burning in the fireplace. He ran his hands through his slicked back, white blonde hair and groaned in frustration. He didn’t understand why after all the time they’s spent apart, he still got jealous over seeing her in the paper next to another man. A tiny part of him knew why, but he ignored it, instead choosing to conjure up a glass of Firewhisky and down it. 

I’m jealous of the wind

That ripples through your clothes

It’s closer than your shadow

Oh, I’m jealous of the wind

Three years. Three fucking years and he still couldn’t rid himself of the urge to apparate to her flat and pull her into his arms, to hold her so tight she could never leave him again. After three years, he was still mourning her. 

Cause I wished you the best of

All this world could give

And I told you when you left me

There’s nothing to forgive

He threw the glass, his eyes trained on the fire where the image of his lost love and George Weasley stood side by side, smiling even in the most depressing element, and hardly flinched as the glass shattered against the stone wall. He wanted to go back, to do everything he could to make her stay, but he couldn’t. It was too late to rewrite the past, too late to bring her heart back to him. 

But I always thought you’d come back, 

Tell me all you found was 

Heartbreak and Misery

It’s hard for me to say, I’m jealous of the way

You’re happy without me

The copy of the Daily Prophet was fully burned, its ashes slowly falling to the bottom of the fireplace when Draco finally settled down. A dull ache remained evidence of the hurt he’d felt all over again, but he did his best to ignore it. He had gotten used to it in the past few years and a part of him wondered if she had too. 

I’m jealous of the nights

That I don’t spend with you

I’m wondering who you lay next to

Oh, I’m jealous of the nights

A scream left his lips, a scream which left his throat dry and voice hoarse. He punched his bathroom mirror, ignoring the stinging in his hand from where glass had cut him, and continued to punch until his first made contact with the wall and his knuckles were placed at awkward angles. Footsteps came from the hallway, the pounding of them similar to that of his heart, and he screamed again. All he felt was pain, all he saw was red, and as Astoria Greengrass rushed into the room with a horrified look on her face, he screamed again. 

I’m jealous of the love

Love that was in here

Gone for someone else to share

Oh, I’m jealous of the love

“Draco, Draco I need you to look at me.” The dark-haired woman grabbed her fiancé by his shoulders, doing her best to avoid stepping on the bloodied glass on the tiled floor. She shook him slightly, the action causing his head to snap towards her and tears to fall. He looked utterly defeated, broken beyond repair, and his next words cut her much deeper than the glass under her feet. 

“She married him, Astoria. SHE MARRIED THAT BLOOD TRAITOR.” He screamed the last part, his voice almost gone from how much he’d used it. He collapsed into her embrace, hot tears staining her white nightgown and soaking her shoulder. He heaved, the sounds he was making bringing tears to her own eyes. She wished for a moment she’d thrown away the copy of the Daily Prophet, but knew it wouldn’t have prevented much. Draco would’ve discovered the news some way, but Astoria still felt responsible for the heart clenching feeling her soon-to-be husband was feeling. 

Cause I wished you the best of

All this world could give

And I told you when you left me

There’s nothing to forgive

But I always thought you’d come back,

Tell me all you found was

Heartbreak and misery

It’s hard for me to say, I’m jealous of the way

You’re happy without me

Thirteen years passed and Astoria did everything she could to keep news of Aspyn Weasley nee Rosier from her husband. He was slowly healing again, the wounds he’d received back in his seventh year scarring over, and a genuine smile returning. He was becoming Draco again with every passing day, smirking more and becoming affectionate with her in the way she craved. She couldn’t take all the credit though, their son Scorpius had helped ease her husband’s bleeding heart more than she ever could. 

However there were times he had a relapse and one of those days happened to be the same day Scorpius left for his first year at Hogwarts. 

As I sink in the sand

Watch you slip through my hands

Oh, as I die here another day, yeah

Cause all I do is cry behind this smile

I wished you the best of 

All this world could give

The family of three had just made their way to Platform 9 3/4 when he spotted a flash of platinum blonde hair, a shade only Aspyn could ever pull off. He turned his head and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the woman he hadn’t seen in person for nearly nineteen years. She hardly looked a day over sixteen with her waist-length locks and slender, curvaceous body. He could see her eyes from where he stood, their blue hues so vibrant they reminded him of the Caribbean Sea. She had no visible wrinkles, no grey hairs, and skin as flawless as it had been all those years ago. She was dressed in a taupe colored trench coat and matching heels, her long legs on display and waist pinched. 

And I told you when you left me

There’s nothing to forgive

But I always thought you’d come back, 

Tell me all you found was

Heartbreak and misery

It’s hard for me to say, I’m jealous of the way

You’re happy without me 

Her arms were wrapped around the waist of her dotting husband, the very same one she’d become business partners with thirteen years ago, while her eyes were trained on the figures of three children, two identical boys dressed in Gryffindor robes and a nervous-looking girl dressed in black ones. All three children sported the Weasley family’s signature red hair and freckles, however their facial structure and ocean eyes had been obtained from Aspyn. He felt a pang in his heart and they ran forward to hug their parents.

“Honey, is everything alright?” Astoria asked, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder. Draco snapped his head in his wife’s direction and nodded,  his mood rising when Scorpius wrapped his arms around his middle. 

“I’m gonna be in Slytherin like you, Father.” He promised before running to catch up to a few of his friends. Astoria leaned into the Malfoy man with a sigh, watching with teary eyes as their only child boarded the very same train they did many years prior. However Draco’s eyes had returned to the sniffling frame of his ex lover and her husband, his eyes watery and pained. 

I-I-It’s hard for me to say, I’m jealous of the way

You’re happy without me

[slothgiirl]

gonna put you off (alex turner oneshot)

alex turner/age difference!reader oneshot in which you are visiting your boyfriend in london from the midlands

You take the last train of the night down to london. Traces of stage makeup still clinging to your skin as you collapse into the seat, a few days clothes tucked into a duffle bag with the tackiest floral print you'd though was chic when you'd seen it at a thrift shop, but had been on many flights with you since, sticking out among a sea of black and navy. As the clock strikes eleven, feeling very much like cinderella as you wipe the remains of the makeup away, the train whizzes past dark countryside, too dark to make out anything. 

In two hours you'd be in London. In two hours you'd be with Alex again. You're still wearing a leotard under your many layers of leggings and sweatpants topped with a turtleneck, flannel, and jacket--in that order. Not remotely like the fashionable girl you'd felt having been dressed by Simone Rocha. It helped that you'd been dressed. 

After years in ballet, most of your wardrobe consisted of warm and practical cotton clothes to shepard you to and from rehearsal. You couldn't give a damn about what you were wearing when you were waking up before sunrise. You'd much rather be warm and not pull a muscle thank you very much. At some point, somewhere in the midlands, you fall asleep. Exhausted to the bone from a weeks worth of shows and only three days to recover. Though you'd probably fit in a few hours of practice during your stay with Alex. 

The announcement for King's Cross wakes you up, a crick in your neck from napping while sitting. You scramble to stuff your headphones into your pocket and grab your bag as you hurry to get off. It's past one in the morning. There's no crowds for you to push through in order to depart, but the sleep-full grogginess gives way to electric anticipation. You have to force yourself not to run off the train. Because Alex. 

You'd seen him just last week. 

He was coming up to Birmingham this week. 

But it didn't matter. You couldn't deny the giddy happiness that you get at the thought of your boyfriend. It was so different from the calm resolve that made you dance for ten hours. Or the serene delight when you twirled about on stage, the heat of the lights blinding you to the audience leaving only room for perfection, one step at a time. 

Just as the train is mostly empty. So it the platform. 

So is the station. 

It's easy to spot Alex, in dark jeans and an equally dark leather jacket, a bouquet of roses in his arms. 

You suck in a breathe, consciously having to stop yourself from speed walking as a smile breaks out on your lips. This is a perfect day in your eyes. "Alex," you tell him, still a couple of steps away. 

His gaze mets yours, the grin on his well formed mouth complimenting yours, as Alex wraps his arms around you and wow is the station freezing. You hug him right back, not caring that you're in public when you reach up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips to his, savoring the taste of him in your mouth. 

" 'ello love," he whispers against your lips. "I take it you had a good show?"

"It was great," you admitt, hands around his neck as you lean back and drink the sight of Alex in. Unlike you, he definitely got enough sleep last night. You've probably been awake for sixteen hours at this point. "but I won't lie. I'm looking forward to these three days off."

Alex laughs. "I brought you flowers," he notes with too much casualty as pink sneaks its way into his cheeks. But he doesn't make to pull away, and the flowers are much forgotten in his grip as you gaze into each others eyes. 

"Thank you," you reply, the happiness bubbling up into your voice. 

"Do ya wanna get outta here," he asks, smile shifting into as smirk as his dark eyes full of the nights promise meet yours. 

"Yes please," you demure, unable to help yourself and add, "I need more tubs of tiger balm than you use of gel right about now."

Alex takes your bag, letting you carry the bouquet as you both get a cab to his flat. His hand never leaving yours. 

** *

Your ballet friend's older cousin, who'd bought alcohol for you both when you were still in high school and incredibly sleep deprived trying to juggle school and dance, works for some company that does PR for a couple of fashion brands. You're not really sure about all the connections, but when she hears you're moving to England--England not London-- she sends you a dm. 

Want to go to fashion week. 

You think Julia might have told her about your plans for after ballet, because as much as yo loved dancing and it was your career right now, like with most sports, it wasn't a long career. But again, you're not sure and seeing as she offered and you don't know anyone else in the entire country, you reply yes. Twenty isn't that young of an age to leave home at. There's lots of ballet stories about young kids leaving at 11 or 13. It isn't any less daunting to leave everyone you know behind. But Birmingham meant a job contract, a steady job. A rarity in dance. 

So you somehow find yourself sitting third row at Simone Rocha, filling in the seats behind celebrities and Anna Wintour. It's like something out of a dream. You wear a dress from the last collection that's worth more than your paycheck and try not to spill anything on it as you get invited by the man sitting next to you, Pierre with three dangly earrings in one ear, skin as rich as creme brulee's crust.

He takes one look at you and says, "new?"

You laugh, caught like a fish out of water, "yeah. I'm still not sure how they even let me in."

"Because you're a size 0," he jokes, which isn't true but you have that toned look that makes you appear slim, exchanging instagram's before the show, then taking you out for a night on the town like you're the latest it bag. It's nice. And easy. You drink beer, and make faces, trying not to think about how awful you'll feel in the morning. You meet writers and buyers, head spinning as you network between drinks and house music, feeling wobbly in heels the way you never would in pointe shoes. Pierre takes you out on the dance floor, where models tower over you. 

Photographs don't do them justice. But instead of feeling insecure the way all those carefully edited selfies do, you just appreciate the edge they each have. The perfect girl next door, all heart shaped face. The perfect cold scandinavian poise, every feature perfectly complimenting each other and poreless HD skin that no amount of makeup could hope to achieve. Like you, having put years into making dancing on pointe seem effortless and painless, they've just perfected their natural beauty. 

And being five one means you have no hopes of being a model. 

Pierre grins shamelessly after making eyes with some photographer in a sequined blazer in some Bahaman themed club, over his latest cocktail, "do hit me up," before disappearing into the crowd. 

You snort into your drink, trying not to feel out of depth. 

In three days you'll be back to your usual routine, settled in at a new studio. Seattle had been home for so long, had been where you first wore pointe shoes and learned to bang the sound out of the wood, smacking each pair of shoes as you all groaned about the piles of homework waiting for you at home.  

You should go. 

Another man slides into the space Pierre had left behind. He's handsome in a classically english way, hair quiffed like some 50s greaser or maybe you'd just thought the 50s were exactly how Grease depicted them. Either way, hot. Unlike most people out and about in during fashion week, his outfit isn't outrageous, trying to attract street style photographers, or a fit for the gram. 

But there's still something sharp about his well fitted blazer and carmine dress shirt,  confidently wearing sunglasses indoors. 

He catches you looking, and without missing a beat, you lie, "sorry my friend ran off with some guy and I was waiting to see if I'd been ditched or not."

You play it off, trying to sound cool and not like you are completely lost and contemplating going home before one in the morning like a loser. You'd already missed out on house parties to the nutcracker and swan lake. You weren't about to let this night go to waste just because you didn't know anyone. 

He smiles, taking a drink from his whiskey, the line of his shoulders relaxing. 

Maybe he thought you were some fangirl. 

There were plenty of famous people here who probably wanted to avoid being hounded while they were just trying to party. 

"Do ya want another drink," he asks, nodding at your empty glass. 

"Sure," you reply lamely. It's not so surprising when he leads you of the club, your hand in his. "So its your fist day in london," Alex parrots, glancing back at you, just to make sure. 

"Yeah," you nod, grinning like an idiot and it wasn't just the alcohol in your bloodstream. Alex's smile could make any girl weak in the knees, you were sure of it. Plus that swagger. You finally understood the meaning of swagger. "Got of plane a couple of hours ago. haven't even seen Buckingham palace."

"No," he shakes his head. 

"I'm serious. I had to head straight to Rocha and get my outfit and makeup done. First time getting my makeup done actually. Found out I've been doing my foundation wrong for years," you ramble on, internally wincing. No one wanted to hear about foundation especially not men you'd only met an hour ago. And Alex was definitely a man, not like the boys you'd gone to high school with and laughed when your health teacher went over a diagram of a vagina. "so no, I haven't seen any london-y things."

"Well we can't have that," Alex utters, flagging a cab down habitually, somehow lighting a cigarette at the same time. 

"To Buckingham Palace through Piccadilly Circus," he tells the cab driver as you both slid in. "Traffic'll be hell though."

"The company's not bad," you comment, watching as his eyes crinkle up from laughter. It softens the line of his face, revealing the baby face beneath the pomade and gel. 

"So what brings you to london," he asks. 

"Work," you admit, your gaze leaving Alex for the first time since you'd laid eyes on him as you watch the city go by. It's a slow crawl as you hit the center of London, views you recall from movies, "Birmingham National Ballet offered me a contract.  I'd be stupid not to have said yes. So I'm just in London for a few days."

"In a very nice dress," Alex says, voice thick in a way that has blood pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"In a very expensive dress," you add, "that I made sure to take lots of selfies in earlier before I have to return it tomorrow. 

"So ya dance for the posh people."

"Yes," you groan, "and no one thinks it's a real job. Or sport!"

Alex chuckles, smirking, "I've watched Black Swan. I know it's fookin' hard." "2009 was a very good year for ballet." Granted you were too young for anything other than the child parts in The Nutcracker, but still. "What about you?"

He's about to reply, the lights of Piccadilly Circus, still full of life at one in the morning, filling your eyes, when the cabbie interrupts. 

"He's in the arctic monkeys," the cabbie says, taking his eyes off the road. You peel your gaze off the window and turn back to Alex, and his admittedly expensive attire, "Oh so you're actually famous famous?"

He looks down bashfully, nothing like the confident greaser air he put on, "ya could say 'that." 

"Would I have heard-"

"One of our songs," Alex continues, "probably. Me mate says we're properly overplayed now."

"Well you're no One Direction," you counter, teasingly. 

You spend the rest of the night making out in front of Buckingham Palace's fountain, before you invite Alex back to yours. 

** *

Alex laughs as you peel off another layer, laying on his bed, only to uncover another moth eaten sweater. It was annoying when all you wanted was Alex's hips against yours. "Patience love," he manages, but you can hear the want in his voice. 

"Don't be an ass," you counter, "or I'll suddenly remember how tired I am." In response, his lips meet yours, shoving back any intention of sleep away as your skin burns with want, his tongue exploring your mouth, hands abandoning any pretense in favor of shoving your sweatpants down.

"Of course there's leggings," he half groans, half moans against your lips, breathlessly. 

You giggle, pulling your shirt off, "wait until we get to the leotard."

"Can't they have those buttons babies onesies have," Alex mutters, tugging off his shirt. 

"Would be awfully convenient," you admit. There was no sexy way to take a leotard off, but apparently no one had told Alex that, because his hands are helping you tug the leotard down your thighs, fingers leaving burning trails on your skin as he goes, sucking kisses down your neck. 

You moan, closing your eyes in bliss. 

" 'm genuinely surprised your not wearing of these things," he mutters against the crook of your neck. 

"Oh take your jeans off already for fucks sake," you retort, trying to act like your voice isn't all choked up. 

Alex chuckles, but does as you ask, his dark gaze meeting yours as he unbuttons his jeans painfully slow, sitting up between your thighs. It's hot and all, but you are horny. You're twenty, and so turned on, having lost your shoes in the hall. A coat in the living room. 

You reach for him, your hands deliberately brushing against his cock, before helping him tug them down his hips. 

"I'm flattered," Alex teases, voice hoarse. 

"Oh," you counter, when you finally get him out of his boxers, "I see, you think this is about you," you tell him, cupping his jaw as he presses down against you, his hips meeting yours, his fingers brushing against your core. And then you aren't thinking very clearly at all, pleasure taking over as Alex's nimble fingers elicit the most debauched moans out of your lips. 

Callused fingers slid into you as he nips at the skin of your collarbone, knowing exactly where the rub to make you see stars. Yours hands wrapped around his neck, keeping him close, wanting him and only him. And- "There. there there," you manage, aware of how wet you were, toes curling. 

His other hand digs into your hipbone, as you writhe beneath him. 

You whimper at the loss of his touch. At the loss of his fingers curling so deliciously inside you. 

You can feel how hard his cock is, on the inside of your thigh, wet with precum and your breath hitches when he enters you, Alex pressing his lips hard against yours, kissing you with all the passion and lust you'd both laughed around earlier, like it would take the sting of separation away, hand still wet with you as he twists his fingers in your hair.  

He's anything but patient as he trusts into you now, his body meeting yours. Your legs wrapping around his waist, that little extra in the angle as he thrusts into you, has you whimpering into his mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as you hold him near, his pace relentless. 

So. 

Worth. 

Taking. 

The. 

Midnight.  

Train. 

"come for me, love," Alex manages, voice cracking, lips bruising your own. The reunited with your long lost lover bruising kiss that you'd thought only existed in movies. 

You come with a shudder, exhausted, satisfied, in that afterglow, stars dancing across the back of your eyelids as you lean back limply into the bed. Alex coming seconds after, collapsing onto the other sider of the bed, spent. You don't care about anything after that. 

Having been awake for eighteen hours. 

A good fucking day. 

** *

You wake up to thirty six missed messages. Mostly from Pierre and Vivian, your fellow corps ballerina you'd told you where all the cheap AND good bars were in Birmingham were. 

They're all along the same lines. 

Links to articles like, "Black Swan for Arctic Monkeys Lead Man." Which okay, was a great movie. "Alex Turner New Flame Confirmed." Again, true. "Teenage Love for Arctic Monkeys Singer!" Which was fucking gross clickbait. You were twenty. Had been for months even if sometimes you felt much younger than that, like when you realized you had to buy pots and pans, they didn't just magically appear. 

And, "New Arctic Monkeys Album? Alex Turner All Loved Up." 

You rolled your eyes. 

For once you were up after sunrise. And after Alex which wasn't surprising. He rarely woke up before noon if it could be helped. 

You reply to Pierre, "officially a sugar baby now lmao [eye roll emoji]." 

And just heart some of the links Vivian sent you. You'd be seeing her soon enough. 

Nine years. Alex was nine years older than you, but it wasn't really something you thought about of ever really talked about. He was just Alex, your boyfriend, once he'd gotten back from tour and had spent more than three days all cooped up in your hotel room bed having the best three days of your life. It wasn't that big of a deal. Just something you hadn't specifically mentioned to your parents during your weekly facebook messenger video call. They would worry. Your mom would go on a rant. Your dad would definitely bring up how you should've gone to college before pursuing ballet and how this was supposed to have helped you get into a university not be a career.

And you'd have to keep them from taking a flight to the UK. 

Besides, your parents knew how to google people. They weren't dumb. Just worried about you living so far in general. 

Even you hadn't ever really thought about, it hadn't crossed your mind, to date someone so much older than you. Alex had a house. He had an established career. 

You couldn't even legally drink in the states. 

But after the initial shock of the band and his age, you'd fallen into easy conversation, ordering room service, Alex's lips at the apex of your thighs while waiting for a full english breakfast because you just had to see what that was about, and it had slid from the forefront of your thoughts. 

Now the tabloids had of course, decided to be an ass about it. 

You got up and slipped into the shower. The water steaming as you quickly got ride of last nights seat before heading downstairs, interested in what Alex had scrounged up for breakfast this time. 

Last time you were here, it'd been frozen waffles, an avocado, and margaritas. Alex is frying eggs as you take a seat on a barstool, watching him cook. You hated frying eggs. You could never get them to not stick to the pan.

"Matthew," Alex tells you as he plates the eggs along with toast and slices of tomatoes, "sent me a load of articles. 'fink they know who you are."

"Had to happen eventually," you respond, watching as a line forms between his brows. Maybe you should talk about the elephant of the room. Just because something didn't bother you didn't mean it wasn't bothering him. Though the whole famous thing in general annoyed him. "Pierre sent me some too. Though he works for some fashion website so he always sends me a bunch of things to read."

He'd also heavily hinted that should you ever decide to try being an influencer he'd love to get you in touch with small fashion brands. 

The man loved his Laquan Smith. 

Alex frowns as he takes a seat next to you. A set up you personally hated and never failed to bring up at least once while staying at his flat. How could you hold a conversation like this! face to face was the way to go. 

Trying to lighten the mood you joke, "I've been twenty since July."

He doesn't smile. Or reach for his food. Alex had the bad habit of just sitting, following his train of thought, as he lapsed into silence. And his thoughts didn't always lead anywhere good. 

If you thought that hard, you'd probably be depressed. It was a good thing you generally were too busy remembering counts and steps to think, and got home to tired to do much other than sleep.

"Alex, baby," you tell him, "who gives a shit what they think." 

"Ya ever 'fink," he says instead of shrugging it off, "about how when I was twenty ya were 11?"

"No," you answer plainly. It had crossed your mind once but-"Well I thought about it once," you tell him honestly, putting down you fork, "but what's the use thinking about it? I didn't know you then. It's not like your some family friend that knew me when I was five. That's fucked up."

Alex snorts, his eyes meeting yours. For once his hair isn't full of gel. Strands falling into his doe eyes. "Ya know what I'm trying to say...your-I'm. Nine is. . .I grew up with the strokes ya grew up with One Direction."

You reach for his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, warmth spreading in your hearth when he squeezes your hand. "Nine is not a small gap. Or a huge one. It's not like your some fifty year old man dating a woman young enough to be his daughter."

This time he really does laugh. " 's true love but. . .don't ya want someone. . .I'm-I don't want you to miss out on doing what twenty year olds do."

You roll your eyes. "Alex you're also twenty not some grandfather. I'm not missing out on anything. It's not like we don't go out. And more importantly I want to be with you. Now let me eat my eggs before they get cold and rubbery."

"It's just. . .ya. . .," he turns his whole body so he's looking at you, even as you dig into your breakfast because you just knew if you kept talking about this Alex would just keep going in circles and your much rather eat and then fuck your boyfriend on the couch before wandering around london. Or curling up to watch telly. "ya sure-"

"Alex," you meet his gaze head on, "nine years isn't nothing, but it only really matters if you were rushing to have kids and get married or in some different stage of life which you're not. Fuck the tabloids. When have they ever been your friends."

Alex runs a hand through his hair thoughtfully and you finally start eating. Which okay, your boyfriend could fry an egg.  It was much better than the oatmeal you'd had for the past few days because you hadn't stopped by a store even though you lived a block from one. 

"I really love ya," Alex mutters softly. 

Out of natural instinct, you reply, while smashing some egg onto a slice of toast, "I love you too."

Then realize what he'd just said. What you'd just said, and look over at him all bug eyed. It was the first time you'd ever told a boy than. And it sent the same little thrill through you as kissing him in front of Buckingham Palace had. 

"Alex, I love you," you repeat just because you can, smiling softly over at him.  

"I haven't put ya off yet love?" Alex asks, smiling sappily over at you. 

"Never." You smile in response.