#so I made sure he got to a point that he could survive on his own

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Dan Feng x Reader

You stood before the Lucky Egg Dispenser. One pull. One egg. People swore by it, miraculous companions, rare creatures with mystical abilities. Some even whispered about something more. You hadn’t believed it. Not until you got one.

At first, it was just an egg, smooth, cool to the touch, its deep azure surface streaked with faint golden veins. For three days, it sat in your apartment, resting on a pillow beneath the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

Then, it hatched.

And the first thing you saw were cyan eyes, glowing like captured starlight. Most people received small, harmless creatures: foxlike beings, glowing fish, even tiny floating wisps of light. Instead, curled amidst the shattered remnants of the shell, was a man.

His long, dark hair cascaded down his back in flowing silken strands. His pale jade antler-like horns gleamed under the soft light, an ethereal contrast to his sharp, almost inhuman pointed ears. His robes, a pristine blend of white, silver, and intricate teal embroidery, draped over his lean yet powerful frame, giving him an air of royalty, as if he had stepped out of some long-forgotten legend. A single red earring dangled from his right ear, swaying gently.

But what held you frozen were his cyan eyes, sharp and penetrating, gleaming with something unreadable. Something ancient. Something dangerous.

He moved towards you. His grip was gentle yet unyielding as his hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"You are the first thing I have seen." he murmured.

His thumb brushed over your lips. "That means you are mine."

Finally, you got him to sit. You sat opposite him, keeping a cautious distance. The man studied his surroundings with the quiet grace of someone who had seen worlds beyond this one.

"You may call me Dan Feng" he said smoothly, his voice carrying an old-world elegance.

You hesitated before responding with your own name, unsure of what to make of him.

"Do you... have hobbies? Things you enjoy?" you asked, attempting to keep the conversation light.

Dan Feng tilted his head slightly, contemplating the question. "Reading ancient texts. Chess. Refining my abilities. Battle."

That last word made you tense slightly.

Before you could respond, you got up to fetch him a drink, only to trip over your own feet.

Time seemed to slow. A surge of energy crackled through the air, and before you could hit the ground, you found yourself suspended midair, a soft glowing force wrapped around you.

Dan Feng hadn’t moved an inch. Yet, his magic had caught you effortlessly.

"You have magic?" you asked in awe, as he gently set you upright.

His lips curled into an amused smile. "Of course. Did you expect otherwise?"

The moment left you shaken but also intrigued. You had to know the extent of his abilities. So you took him to a weapon shop.

In this world, people trained to farm levels and increase their stats through dungeons. Power meant survival, and you needed to understand exactly what he was capable of. Dan Feng examined the weapons with idle curiosity before selecting a blade—a long, ornate spear. The moment he lifted it, the air around you shifted. With a single, precise swing, the spear cleaved the reinforced training dummy clean in half.

The shopkeeper gaped. You swallowed hard.

Dan Feng lowered the weapon, looking wholly unimpressed by his own strength. As if it was trivial.

He turned to you, eyes glowing softly. "Satisfied? I can use pretty much any weapon in this place."

You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or terrified.

From the moment he hatched, he never left your side. At first, you assumed it was natural. A newly born creature clinging to its first bond. But this was no ordinary attachment. He was always there.

A silent, watchful presence in your home. In your dreams. When you awoke, he was there, seated gracefully by your bedside, watching with an unreadable gaze. When you left for work, his figure lingered just outside, eyes never straying from you.

Your phone? Constantly buzzing. Unread messages. Missed calls.

Dan Feng. Dan Feng. Dan Feng.

You started locking your doors.

They always unlocked themselves.

One night, you tried sneaking out, he found you before you reached the next street.

"Why do you run?"

His voice was calm, almost amused. Yet the air around him grew heavy, pressing against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his robes barely stirring.

"You called me into existence" he murmured, lifting your chin once more. "You do not abandon what you have created."

The next day, you searched for someone skilled enough to play chess with him. A strategic game like that might hold his attention. As he sat, moving his pieces with unnerving precision, you stood behind him, studying his every move, intrigued by his intelligence. His plays were ruthless, methodical. He was brilliant.

When you turned to leave after his next match, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist again. You swore he had been fully focused on the board.

“Where are you going?” he asked smoothly.

You forced a smile. “Just getting you something to drink.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing you.

You returned not just with food and drink, but with a friend you had met at the dungeon.

Dan Feng finished his match earlier than expected.

Before you could react, he was by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he steered you away from the others. “It’s late” he murmured. “I will lead you home.”

The next morning, you noticed something was off. Dan Feng's usual poised demeanor was replaced with a subtle lethargy, his forehead warm to the touch. A fever?

You immediately took it upon yourself to care for him, dampening a cloth to press against his forehead and making him herbal tea. Though he allowed your ministrations, there was an unreadable expression in his eyes, as if he were watching you, studying you, but unwilling to say something. His breathing grew steadier under your care, but exhaustion eventually took its toll on you. As night fell, you drifted into sleep beside him.

By the time you awoke, he was gone.

Panic surged through you. The idea of someone taking advantage of him or worse, attempting to capture and sell him due to his rare nature propelled you into action. You traced his presence back to a nearby dungeon, where an eerie sight awaited you.

The creatures inside weren’t attacking him. They were bowing. Dan Feng stood among them, his form partially transformed. His antlers glowed brightly, his once-hidden dragon-like tail illuminated by an ethereal light. Power radiated from him in waves, his presence commanding absolute authority. Whatever he was doing, it was deliberate—perhaps an attempt to regulate his strength, to return to his usual form without alarming you.

You confronted him, your voice sharp with concern. “What are you doing?”

He turned to you, unbothered by your presence. “Releasing excess energy. I did not wish to frighten you.”

His nonchalance infuriated you. “You disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Something flickered in his gaze, amusement, perhaps. Then, to your utter disbelief, he chuckled.

“You followed me,” he mused, stepping closer. “Because you were worried.”

You clenched your fists. “Of course, I was! You were feverish, and then you vanished!”

Instead of acknowledging your frustration, he merely brushed his fingers against your cheek, the heat of his touch lingering. “How endearing,” he murmured. “But unnecessary.”

You glared at him, unamused. “You don’t get to decide that.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, then let out a low, indulgent sigh. “Very well” he said, as if entertaining a fleeting whim. “Next time, I shall wake you.”

You were relieved when Dan Feng eventually returned to his normal form, but curiosity still lingered in your mind. While he was cooking, or at least attempting to, since you had been teaching him—you found yourself watching him closely. His movements were precise, yet slightly hesitant, as if he were still adjusting to the task. The soft glow of the kitchen lanterns reflected in his eyes, making him appear even more ethereal than usual.

Acting on impulse, you suddenly reached out and touched his antler-like horns. The texture was smoother than you expected, but before you could fully process the sensation, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. His hands fumbled with the kitchen knife, and a sharp inhale escaped his lips.

“Ah—!” His voice was higher than usual, laced with genuine surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. His ears twitched violently, and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He turned sharply, swatting your hand away as his tail flicked behind him with a barely contained shudder.

You blinked, taken aback by the uncharacteristic reaction. "I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you," you quickly stammered, raising both hands in surrender. "I won’t do that again."

Danfeng cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. His eyes remained averted, but the pink dusting his face lingered stubbornly. "Good." His tone was firm, but the way he slightly shifted away from you spoke volumes.

Deciding not to push further, you allowed the moment to pass, though the curiosity still gnawed at you. On a more positive note, Dan Feng had started gaining friends through chess matches, and you were relieved to see him socializing beyond just clinging to you. Still, something about his past lingered in your thoughts, the way he had spoken about ‘battles’ when you first met.

Your suspicions solidified when you both realized you were running low on points for trading. A dungeon run was the most efficient way to replenish them, so you ventured inside together. That was when you finally understood the depth of his strength. The dungeon was teeming with creatures—some of them towering behemoths with godlike power, but none of them stood a chance.

Dan Feng didn’t just defeat them—he annihilated them with terrifying precision. His water magic twisted into elegant but deadly formations, cutting through enemies with almost artistic grace. Massive hydra-like beings fell within seconds, their roars of defiance silenced as waves crushed them into the ground. The air became thick with mist, swirling around him like a deity descending upon a battlefield.

Watching him fight was both mesmerizing and unsettling. His expression never wavered, calm, composed, and yet, there was something disturbingly natural about the way he wielded destruction. It was then you realized Dan Feng wasn't just powerful. He was something beyond that.

As the dungeon’s final enemy fell, the air shimmered, and a chest materialized before you. It was rare to see such a reward, so both you and Dan Feng approached with caution. You hesitated for a moment before lifting the lid together. Inside, nestled within the chest’s velvet-lined interior, were two items: a gleaming sword and an ornate ring.

You both examined the sword first. It was well-crafted, its blade humming faintly with residual energy, but neither of you used swords. After a brief discussion, you decided to sell it to the weapon merchant upon returning to town. However, when you reached for the ring, Danfeng’s hand moved faster, snatching it up before you could inspect it properly.

“I’ll keep this” he stated firmly, slipping it into his sleeve before you could protest.

You let it go for the moment, though curiosity gnawed at you. Dan Feng was not one to act so possessively over mere trinkets, and yet there was a glint in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Later that evening, while he busied himself with something in the kitchen, you caught sight of him turning the ring over in his hands, his thumb brushing over the intricate engravings with something close to reverence. When he noticed your gaze, he merely smirked and pocketed it once more, offering no explanation.

It wasn’t until much later, when the ring’s magic revealed itself—that you understood exactly why he had insisted on keeping it. When you woke up one morning, your wrist felt oddly warm, a faint golden glow emanating from it. You gasped as you realized a faint, ethereal chain connected you to Danfeng, who stood at the doorway watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You belong to me now” he murmured, his voice calm but firm. “This ring binds us together. No more sneaking away, no more hiding.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest as you stared at him, realization dawning. The ring wasn’t just a trinket, it was a claim. And you had unknowingly let him seal your fate.

[amnmesias]

𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

word count: 12.4k

summary: After the war is successfully won, Remus is left with one last battle to face: The Ministry’s order to all werewolves and survivors to attend a support group in order to effectively be accepted into regular workplaces. You face a similar dilemma, being forced to attend the group in order to not lose your precious spot in the Quidditch league. You find each other somewhere in between. 

tags: scars mention but with no detailed description. some violence. hurt/comfort themes all around, along with some fluff. fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with. smoking and cigarettes are big plot points. found family. background jilypad, harry is a menace. minimal y/n use. nobody dies, post-war fic. 

a/n: hi helloo!! well, here is my next work… i’m really excited about this one. terribly sorry for the 11k words, i got a bit carried away the more i proofread. again, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy! xx

...

“Fuck.” 

Remus stepped out to face the humid day, the consequence of his harsh movements immediately made itself known in the pain of his joints. His hand trembled as he placed the cigarette between his lips, somewhere behind him steps interrupted his silence.

“You alright, Moons?” Asked James, taking a tentative step towards his friend. Remus nodded, taking his time to savour the smoke in his lungs. “‘M sorry about what happened—”

“It’s hardly your fault.” He shook his head, and James sighed. “I just… I just don’t think it’s very fair.”

“I know,” He passed the cigarette to James, who accepted it readily, his own anxiety barely contained. “Don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking.”

“I don’t think this is directly his doing, either.” Said Remus, eyes lingering a beat too long on the scars peeking through the sleeve of his jacket. James passed him the cigarette. “If anything, the support group is probably the best solution he could come up with.” 

“Surely you’re not thinking of attending, Remus?”

“And what am I supposed to do, James? Be a stay at home nobody taking care of your son while you go on about your day? ‘Cause no one will give me a job because of this–” He closed his eyes, horrified at the edge of his own voice and mortified at the tears threatening to leave his eyes. He threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, eyes now lost in nothing. “‘Sides… You heard the man, it’s non-negotiable.”

“Well, I could pull in a few–”

“It’s fine, Prongs.” James frowned, but let it go. Remus sighed and pushed his hands inside his pockets, fingers itching to pull another cigarette out of the box. “I’m not too miffed about it, really. It’s just… The idea of airing my… my lycanthropy to people I don’t know has me feeling a little uncomfortable. But I’ll survive. What’s the worst that could happen?”

What he almost did not survive, however, was the electric shock he felt coursing through his veins when he spotted you outside Janus Thickey Ward, fingers anxiously picking at the skin of your lips and pacing around the corridor. 

Now it’s important to point out that Remus, in all his half-blood upbringing, never once he considered himself religious, but in that moment he prayed to every saint he could remember that it was all a coincidence, or at least a misunderstanding. How could you, a well-known and incredible witch, stand before him– a nervous wreck, minutes before the so-called Werewolves and Survivors Support Group meeting he had been dreading all week, when not so long ago you were on the cover of Witch Weekly?

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” Said the healer as she stepped out the door, you looked up, fear deeply rooted in the frown of your eyebrows. “How kind of you to join us, come, come! We’re about to begin our session.” She ushered him in, and Remus found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as he stepped into the room. 

Remus immediately moved to take the closest seat to the door, but he was horrified to find all the chairs neatly arranged with signs with different names. He sighed, reached inside his jacket’s inner pocket for a cigarette and sat on the tiny chair labeled as Remus J. Lupin. His amber eyes scanned the room and the people quietly chatting around, each of them with visible scars to match his very own, people he recognized from packs he visited during his own missions. But you remained a mystery to him as you walked to your chair, next to his, and plucked the cigarette out of his lips.

“We’re in a hospital,” You said, your tone bored and a complete opposite to the state he found you in minutes before. “Have some respect.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged but pocketed the cigarette for later. “None of these people mind, I assure you, they already go through hell and back, every month, mind you.” 

You eyed him curiously and opened your mouth, but whatever words you were about to speak were interrupted as the healer walked towards the center of the room. He inhaled deeply and laid back in his chair, ready to get through the session with the most patience he could muster. 

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Healer Figg and I will be in charge of moderating this support group, therefore you must report to me upon arrival in order to keep track of the attendees. The names provided will not be published nor shared without your permission unless you are in a position where you could endanger yourself or your fellow companions.” She said, making a point of looking at everyone in the room. Remus swallowed hard. “Now, who wants to begin?” 

And well, Remus desperately wanted to say he genuinely enjoyed the session, but that would’ve been a complete lie, especially when he spent most of it wishing it was over. Every now and then, he dared to look over at you, your expression blank but your fingers a clear sign of your anxiety as you toyed with your hair. Sometimes you would feel his lingering eyes on you and meet his gaze, your own eyes desperately trying to hide the mixture of emotions inside your chest.

“And what about you? What’s your name, love?” Asked the healer, and you looked up to find her addressing the question to you. You mumbled your name, a slight edge to your voice as murmurs echoed around the room. “What brings you here, y/n?”

“Do I have to?” You asked, trying to get impossibly smaller in your chair. The healer smiled, as if she was accustomed to those responses. 

“If you want to be signed off, yes, you have to.” 

You closed your eyes, as if her answer physically pained you. Remus supposed it did, him being familiar with the after moon aches that came with his own condition, you probably weren’t so far off. 

“Um, well, I was uh… my family was attacked by a,” You paused, scanning the room. “By a werewolf.” The room remained silent as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I’m the only survivor.” 

“Oh, sorry to hear that, love.” Healer Figg said, and scribbled something in her pad before looking back up at you. You, for your part, seemed grateful for the pause to collect yourself. “Is this why you’re here? To find some sense of community?” 

You frowned, “Um, no…? Not, really. I, uh, I play for the Holyhead Harpies, the league said I must attend these meetings or they’ll remove me from the primary team.” A shaky breath left your lips, but you recovered quickly, visibly more relaxed as you added, “See, otherwise Partridge would fill my spot and that wouldn’t do anyone any good, crazy woman, that one.” At that, Remus couldn’t help himself from snorting at your statement. 

Healer Figg turned to him, eyes curious. “Is something the matter, Mr. Lupin?”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head immediately, hoping his disruption wouldn’t encourage the healer to ask him any questions. “Terribly sorry.” He mumbled, properly chastised.

You smirked, and turned to the healer, who looked down at her pocket watch and clapped loudly. “Oh, it seems we overstayed our welcome here, a retired globins meeting will take place shortly in this room, so we must wrap this up. Thank you for coming.” Remus blinked, suddenly aware of everyone around him standing up, you included. “Refreshments are free for everyone to take. I’ll see you next week.” 

He made to turn to you, an apology frizzling in his tongue but he frowned as he watched you walk out the room without looking back. Remus frowned and tried to follow you, however, his fellow werewolves circled him with numerous questions about his work on the Order of the Phoenix, all grateful for his help towards the werewolves rights movement. His eyes lingered a beat longer on the door and surprised himself when he realized he looked forward to the next meeting.

—

You stared hard at the flame at the end of your cigarette, your fingers shaking slightly a result of the cold weather and your tiresome tendency of forgetting your gloves. A habit you unconsciously picked up since the attack, still used to how your own mother would meet you at the door to properly help you bundle up for the low temperatures, walking away with a faint kiss mark on your cheek, before you lost her to– You shook your head, willing your head to think about something else, something less disturbing. 

Few members you recognized from the previous session walked past you, waving and giving you courteous nods as they themselves mentally prepared for the meeting. You gave yourself a couple of more minutes before entering. 

When the captain of your team walked to you with the news, sadness in her own eyes barely contained, you had half the mind to quit the team for good. The trauma of the attack still lingering in your body as she explained the reasons behind the league’s decision, and she begged you to consider it. You weren’t stupid, you knew the possibility of losing you was as much of a tragedy to the team than it was to you, but the idea of speaking out about what happened in front of unknown people who had managed to survive their very own attacks with much worse consequences, made you queasy in your stomach. You supposed you had it better than them, therefore you had less reasons to make a fuss about the whole ordeal, when they had full moons to dread and transformations to suffer; suddenly your new acquired taste for medium rare, almost raw meat being the only consequence of your own attack seemed a pointless thing to cry about. 

“Hey,” You turned, only to find Remus Lupin’s tall figure walking to you. He seemed far more relaxed than last week, very much like you. Both filled with acceptance towards the situation. “Can I have one?”

You wordlessly passed him your carton, he nodded as he opened it and grabbed your lighter from inside as well. A bemused smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the green and gold embellishments in the lighter, the Holyhead Harpies logo front and center, you bit your lip and looked away trying to hide your smile. 

“Sorry about the other day,” He said between an exhale of smoke. You turned to him again. “Didn’t mean to laugh at your… your situation.”

“It’s quite alright, I knew you weren’t.” You smiled. Remus nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “You play Quidditch, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus supposed he had that one coming. “Call me Remus, please.” He stretched his free hand out and you shook it, your soft palm against his own scarred skin. You said your name quietly and he had no qualms in hiding his own smile. “Oh, I know. But not because I’m a Quidditch fan myself.”

“Well, isn’t that a shame.” You stepped on your cigarette, your boot making a faint sound against the concrete. “Thought Potter had brain washed you by now.” 

“Ah, yes. Well, he thinks I’m a lost case when it comes to Quidditch so,” You chuckled quietly, remembering James Potter and his intensity whenever you encountered him at the pitch. “Lily won’t believe me I’m talking to you, though. She’s a big fan.” 

He enjoyed the way you blushed at his compliment, “Oh, that’s nice. Tell her I said hi?” You said as you walked to the entrance, he stared at your back as you disappeared into the building. 

Remus smiled to himself, blowing the smoke out one last time before putting out his own cigarette. An optimistic feeling lingering inside his chest as he walked inside, maybe this support group idea wasn’t so bad, the more he thought about your tiny smile and faint blush, the more he was looking forward to the next session.

—

“Harry, please,” Remus begged, the tiny wooden  spoon in his hand mid air as the baby shook his head mutely. “You had this just the other day, and you loved it!”

“No.” He said, apparently loving that word when it wasn’t used against him. “Bad Moony!”

“Bad Moony?!” He asked, aghast. James laughed from his spot on the couch. “James, what have you done to your child? Just yesterday he couldn’t leave me alone!” 

“James.” Chided Lily as she walked into the kitchen, assessing her own son and the tall man miserably trying to feed him. She placed her hands on her hips, “Could you stop terrorizing Remus, for once in your life? Here, love,” She made to them and Remus stood up readily, passing her the spoon.

“Terrorizing?!” James echoed, entering the kitchen with faux offense. “It’s hardly my fault Harry decided to antagonize everyone today. If anything it’s Remus' fault for not learning to pick his battles.”

“Prongs, be nice, I met your hero last night.” 

“Oh?” Lily turned, her attention divided between the conversation and feeding her son, who, for his part, knew better than to disobey his mother and happily ate her offerings. “Who might this hero be?” 

Remus frowned at Harry before turning to his friends. “Remember y/n, from school?” 

“What?” James exclaimed, suddenly in front of Remus. The bespectacled boy grabbed him by the shoulders, hazel eyes big with surprise. “From the Holyhead Harpies? Where? Why have you held this information from me? Moony, what the f–”

“James.” Lily chided again, now busying herself cleaning baby Harry’s face. Remus sent her a pleading look. “Besides, if Remus wants to keep his late night rendezvous with this pretty girl to himself, it’s his own decision.”

“Thank you.” Remus nodded, meeting James’ eyes with a satisfactory smirk. Then turned back to the redhead. “Hold on, rendezvous is not the word I’d use. It was just a coincidence.”

“Was it?” Lily asked, irking an eyebrow. “My mistake, then. Your face is saying a completely different thing, though.” 

James seemed to catch his wife’s meaning immediately and smirked salaciously at his friend. Remus groaned and dropped his head to his hands. There was shuffling around and little Harry’s babbling making background noise as Lily walked to change his now food-stained clothes. 

“Wait, where did you meet her last night?” James asked after a long silence. “I thought you had– Oh.”

Remus suddenly felt like this was a conversation none of them had any right in participating. He looked away, eyes lost in the way Lily cooed quietly at Harry as she changed his clothes. A heavy feeling in his chest he suspected was merely guilt, surely he wouldn’t want anyone to go on about his business with other people. Especially when the topic was still raw from the war that had just ended. 

James reached over and patted his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” 

“Say anything about what?” Asked Sirius, having just walked in time to listen to their hushed conversation. “What are you two babbling about? Remus, what happened to best friends?” 

“Your own fault for going only God knows where.” Remus retorted with a shake of his head, grateful for the change of topic. 

“I’ll have you know I was away buying healing potions for you, dearest Moons.” He said, presenting him with a heavy, brown bag. Remus sighed. “And before you say anything, I absolutely do guarantee you that I don’t mind buying these at all. You’re not the only one with battle scars, alright?”

“Hardly.” James snorted, “Love, getting into a row with a random dog does not count as battle. That’s you being a complete plonker.” 

Sirius gasped, “We’ll see if this plonker is free tomorrow morning to watch over Harry when you and my gorgeous Lilyflower leave for work.”

“Watch over your own son, you mean?” Remus asked, but James beat him to it.��

“Remus can watch Harry, don’t ya, Moons?” 

He laughed loudly and stood up, “No can do, Jamie. I have important matters to attend to.”

“Are said matters a new code for a certain lovely Quidditch player, perhaps?” Asked Lily as she walked in with Harry on her hip, who stretched his arms out as soon as he spotted his father. 

“Scandalous!” Gasped Sirius as he held Harry to his side. Remus groaned, not at all planning to participate again in the same conversation. “And who this lovely Quidditch player might be?”

“Alright, I’m leaving.” He nodded shortly, and turned around. Harry shrieked happily as the man kissed his head lovingly. “Bye, Harry.” 

“No kiss for us, Moony?” Lily asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Remus groaned, betrayed that his own best friend would join in on the banter against him. “Or are you reserving those for—”

“A menace. The three of you.” He said, and walked to the door. “Keep this up and I’ll take Harry from you, this is your first warning!”

—

“What else was I supposed to do?!” Remus asked, his own smile barely contained as he heard you laughing next to him. “I was going crazy, it seemed appropriate at the time!”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” You allowed, straightening your posture where you laid next to him against a wall. Remus blushed faintly when your arms brushed his when you brought the cigarette to your lips. “But surely you could’ve picked a better song… Changes? Really?”

“Oh, I’ll have you know it would be the best song to die to. Anything from Bowie really,” He considered it, then added, “Or Pink Floyd.” 

“Okay, Pink Floyd I can accept.” You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. Remus suddenly thought that you looked very lovely under the low street lights. “Didn’t realize you were such a music snob... Well, I suppose it makes sense, keeping to yourself all the time at school.”

And well, Remus couldn’t really blame himself for the way his heart almost leaped out of his chest at your comment, the insinuation that you had noticed him back then. He hoped you wouldn’t notice his blush, or the loud way his heart was beating against his ribcage. You blew out the smoke from the corner of your lips, you had painted them a pretty shade of red he admitted to love, but there was something about your eyes, lost in nothing during the session and now next to him, you seemed… sad. 

“And that’s enough about me.” He cleared his throat, moving to lay over his shoulder against the wall so he could fully face you. You looked over at him with surprise. “Tell me about you.”

“About me?” You asked incredulously, as if Remus wanting to know about you never crossed your mind. He nodded, eyes soft as he studied you. “Um, well… I don’t know, what do you want to know?” 

“Anything.” He shrugged, smiling at you as you frowned, your eyebrows scrunching adorably. “Or at least tell me something I wouldn’t find in that bloody magazine.” 

You smiled, visibly relaxed at the olive branch he offered you. “Read much about me?” Now it was Remus’ turn to smile sheepishly at you. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Okay…” You looked up and brought your free hand to pick at the skin of your lips, a deep rooted habit of yours, he noticed. “Oh, I know. When I was little, the first time I showed signs of magic,” You began, meeting his gaze with a tentative look, something in his eyes motivated you to grow momentum as you continued, “I was outside playing with Sylvie, our family cat, and I don’t remember correctly but my mam said something about her not listening to me that made me so angry that I sent her flying… quite literally.” You laughed, a melancholic glint in your eyes as you placed the cigarette in your lips. 

Remus watched in awe at the red lipstick stains on the filter, but he recovered quickly when you looked at him, “Hold on… You sent your cat…? Flying?” He barked a laugh, surprising both of you. 

You laughed, nodding. “Pretty much, yes. She was alright, in case you’re worried. We found her a couple of hours later, she was stuck on a tree.”

Remus smiled, “And did Sylvie ever forgive you for that? I’m sure you scared the wits out of her.” 

“Nah, that bloody thing wasn’t scared of anything.” You shook your head, your chuckles taking a sad note. Remus frowned. “She quite literally threw herself at Greyback and his pack when he came pounding at our door, fearless creature, that one.” 

Remus felt the air getting sucked out of his lungs at your words. You exhaled deeply and chanced a glance at him, your eyes wide and fearful. 

“I… I’m sorry.” You whispered, harshly throwing your cigarette down to put it out. Remus followed your movements in silence. “Don’t know why I–”

“It’s okay. No need to be sorry, certainly not on behalf of that… that,” He sighed deeply, not courageous enough to finish his sentence, instead, he cleared his throat. “Back there, when you said you said you reckoned Voldemort targeted you…”

You studied him quickly, a slight purse to your lips as you considered your words. “I’m muggleborn, so...” You shrugged, as if that simple fact would make the tragedy obvious, or remotely acceptable.

“Oh.” You sent him a sideways smile, a small trembling thing. Remus wanted to reach out and… What? Do what? He wasn’t sure, but you seemed desperate to change the topic, or leave. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, hardly your fault.” You straightened your posture, fingers anxiously fixating on a patch of skin in your lips. Remus bit his own lips as he considered you, and desperately thought on another topic, anything to stop you from leaving. “See you soon, then?” You offered. 

“Yeah,” He breathed out, nodding quickly. A candle of hope lighting up inside his chest. You smiled at him, a similar hopeful look in your eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“Bye, Remus.” 

Remus watched you go, a frown in his face. He sighed and laid back on the wall, feeling rather good about the exchange despite the sour turn of events. He had hoped to ask for your number at some point after the session, heart aching to get to know you better, but he supposed it could’ve ended much worse. Eventually you both had to address the elephant in the room, but he could wait, he was willing to wait an eternity if it meant to keep you a bit longer in his life. 

He sighed deeply, reaching out for another cigarette before parting to his own flat. The lighter you brought him heavy on his pocket. You had handed it to him with a mischievous smile, so you stop taking mine, you said while handing it to him when you both noticed yours had ran out of fluid. Remus smiled around the cigarette and brought the lighter to his lips, but his eyes stopped on the messily handwriting on it. Your number. 

—

As the days passed, you weren’t ashamed to admit the giddiness that possessed you when you returned to your flat from practice, fingers itching for the telephone to talk to Remus. Both of you made a routine to end your days with long conversations that easily lasted all night, asking questions that you both usually would hold back from but were feeling confident enough with the help of the distance and the telephone.  

“Harry, stop,” Hissed Remus through the other line, you smiled. Muffled sounds came from his side, no doubt wrestling with his godson for the telephone. “Sorry. He’s in a mood.” 

“It’s okay. He seems like a firecracker, that one.” You pointed, fingers toying with the telephone cord. “Again, can’t really blame him when he has James Potter and Sirius Black genes. Next time you see Lily please offer her my most sincere condolences.” Remus laughed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“I will do that, definitely. Add mine as well, while I’m at it.” He mumbled, and laid back and away from Harry’s hand trying to grab the phone from him, he balanced the baby on his lap and used a hand to raise it away from him. “Harry, no. Moony is on a call with a very pretty girl, do you want to play with your toys? A nap maybe?” He whispered, and you smiled against your own phone. Surely not meant to hear the last bit. 

You turned to the clock in your kitchen, reading the time and inhaled deeply, mustering all the courage you could manage. 

“Need help with him?” You offered quietly, hoping to not be heard over Harry’s shrieking. 

There was no response from the other side and you felt both relieved and disappointed, you scolded yourself for thinking that way. 

Then, “You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all, I’m not very well versed in babysitting but I’m sure two is better than one.” You said, your grip on the phone tightened as you stared at your socked feet. “I don’t mean to impose, I just…”

“It’s alright.” Remus breathed out, sounding equally nervous to how you felt. You let your hopefulness linger a bit longer. “Ever been to Godric’s Hollow?” 

You smiled, and just like that, as soon as he provided you instructions for apparition and gave you a very heartfelt goodbye, you rushed to your room and changed your clothes. Fingers tingling with excitement as you locked your own apartment and made to apparate right to Godric’s Hollow. The Potter cottage sat at the very heart of the village, a pretty looking house decorated with well-tended flowers and warmth radiating from every angle you looked at it. A home that drowned in love despite it almost being a cause of tragedy in the wizarding community. 

Remus smiled at you as he opened the door, tiny Harry clinging to his side as both studied you. His light brown hair was tousled, standing on all sides in a clear show of his distress, but his amber eyes looked at you so, so softly you almost melted right there despite the snow surrounding you. You waved shyly, and he seemed to snap out of his trance.

“Hi,” He breathed out. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Hi,” You echoed with a chuckle. Harry blinked at you, his green eyes, a carbon copy of Lily’s, scanning you curiously. “I brought biscuits.” And just like that, you proved yourself worthy to Harry. “Can I come in?” 

“Yes, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to let you in. You were immediately welcomed by the faint smell of hazelwood and baby powder. “Here, let me take that.” He tried to help you, but his arms were full. 

“It’s okay,” You laughed, feeling rather comforted that Remus himself didn’t know what to do. 

You took out your coat, arms raising to untangle the scarf from your neck. Remus’ eyes involuntarily roved over your form, stopping on the scars peeking through your abdomen, he immediately scolded himself when you looked up to meet his gaze, blind to his reaction. Harry took your lack of layers as an opportunity to reach his arms out, his eyes now fixated on the biscuits you held in your hand. 

“Oh,” You said as the baby basically launched himself into your arms. Remus chuckled and took the bag from your hand and you properly fixed your hold around Harry. “Hello, little one. I’m y/n.” His response came in a happy shriek followed by incoherent babbling, you smiled. “Well, it’s very much my pleasure to help you take care of Moony. Is he giving you a hard time?” You said and Remus let out a startled chuckle. 

His heart did a funny little dance when his family nickname came out of your lips. “Oi, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” He said, words taking a sweet quality. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You smiled up at him and he guided you towards the sitting room. “Well, isn’t this a cozy home?” Harry babbled excitedly, fisting your jumper. “Oh, you did this? You got good taste, Harry.”

Remus felt his heart bursting inside his chest, so he walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on, desperately trying to distract himself before he could lose all his strength to not walk up to you and kiss you silly. He smiled to himself as he listened to you whispering here and there to Harry. 

“Tea, dove?” He called out.

“Oh, sure.” You said, voice muffled as the toddler placed his hands on your cheeks. Remus felt like he was very much on the same wavelength. You laughed. “Is he always this touchy, or just his mood like you said?”

Remus walked in with two cups in his hands, “It’s usually the pretty girls that have him acting like this.” He laughed at you wrestling with baby Harry, who tried to bring your hair to his mouth. “I can hardly blame him–Harry, stop that.” He chided, placing them on the coffee table to reach over and take the baby from your lap. 

“It’s really okay, Remus.” You said, smiling up at him as you studied him with the baby in his arms. You very much wanted to kiss him, your heart still reeling from being called pretty. Twice. “He’s probably going to tire himself off soon, didn’t you say it’s past his bedtime?” You reached over for your cup, trying very hard to hide your blush.

“Yes, indeed it is.” Remus leveled Harry in front of him, the baby simply giggled and grabbed his face, very much like he did to you before. You laughed over the rim of your cup. “He just enjoys antagonizing me, don’t you, Harry? He’s very much like Sirius on that front.” 

“I’m sure he’ll crash out soon,” And as the words slipped past your lips, Harry paused his ministrations to Remus’ face to let out a big yawn. Both you and Remus smiled triumphantly. “See?” You whispered.  

“I’ll go put him down quickly.” Said Remus very quietly, lowering Harry to his chest, you nodded mutely, eyes in a daze as you admired them both. The domesticity of it all. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a second,” He looked down at Harry, then added, “Hopefully.”

You watched him climb up the stairs no doubt to Harry’s nursery and sighed deeply, eyes scanning the room with something akin to longing. The walls were filled with photographs in every space, all the way to the ceiling; most of them were solo shots of Harry, him laughing, crawling and one even bawling his eyes out, the image shaky as if the person taking it was debating between consoling the baby or capturing the moment. The rest you recognized from school, Lily and James and their first kiss after a match, you remembered that moment, then James and Sirius kissing mid-air, each on their broom, a scarlet crowd behind them, or them celebrating graduation day. The biggest one, though, was the one from their wedding, the one you vaguely remembered seeing one morning on the Daily Prophet. Lily looked beyond beautiful, her crimson, long hair in contrast with the white dress. James and Sirius both sported almost matching tuxedos, a lily of the valley arrangement for their boutonnières. The three with wide smiles that could be seen from earth, you were sure.

The photograph that caught your eye, though, was the one of Remus and Lily on the dance floor from her wedding day, a candid shot of them lost in the moment, laughing away despite the growing tensions. He looked very handsome as he twirled Lily around, you immediately noticed, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes rovered over the photo. You moved your head to look over to the next one, but a large hand covered it from you.

Remus laughed at your startled face. “Oh, don’t,” You blinked again, but recovered quickly and frowned at him. “What?”

“You think I was admiring you?” You asked, a surprised chuckle left his lips and you stopped fighting against your own smile. “I’ll have you know Lily immediately caught my eye, I see where ickle Harry got his looks from.” 

He walked over to stand next to you, both of you admiring the photographs in silence. “I’ll tell Sirius you said that, enjoy your time here cause I just know he won’t let you come in the future.” A giggle escaped you, startling him as he turned to you. He desperately wished to drown in the sound of your quiet, girly giggling. “Thank you for coming.” 

“No problem,” You smiled up at him, his eyes unconsciously fixating on a spot on the corner of your lips. “You’re so good with him, really patient, too.”

“Yeah, well,” He brought a hand to his nape, shy in his movements. “I had plenty of practice with James and Sirius.” His eyes softened as he looked back at you, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. “But again, all I needed to calm those down was to threaten them to burn their shared T. Rex autographed record, so…”

“I assume Harry doesn’t own a T. Rex autographed record for you to threaten, then?” 

“Well, no,” He conceded, following you back to sit on the couch. Really close, you noticed immediately with a smile on your face. “But he does have a Quidditch star as a babysitter so he might have some advantage there.”

You snorted. “Please tell me you did not just compare me to Marc Bolan.” 

Remus found himself scooting a bit closer to you under the pretense of grabbing his own cup, if you noticed, you didn’t show, but your smile was blinding. Your sudden closeness brought out a nervous, happy giggle out of you. You slid your finger around the rim of your cup, Remus’ eyes followed your movements in a daze. 

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the silence between you, “If James is to be believed, you might as well be the league’s very own Bolan,” You blinked, clearly not expecting that response from him. “And uh, well, I remember some matches from school too, you’re really good, dove.” 

“Remus…”

“What? It’s not like I’m lying, I’ve got people to back me up.” You shook your head, very much like you didn’t believe him. Remus suddenly had the desperate urge to knock some sense into you. “Oi, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” You smiled at him, a tiny forced thing, like you were trying to convince yourself as well. “It’s just… Sometimes I feel like everyone makes me sound like this incredible player, when in reality I’m just…” You sighed, like finishing the sentence physically hurt you, you raised your hand to your lips. 

Remus decided to take a risk, and he reached over to take your hand from your lips before you could pick at your skin. Then, “Is it because of… of you being…”

“I’m not a werewolf, Remus.” You frowned, but you didn’t move your hand from his hold. However, Remus did flinch like your touch suddenly burnt him. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re… not? Then why…?”

You sighed, like this was a conversation you had been dreading. Remus supposed you did, he did too. Then, “The league, they… they said I had to attend the meetings or they would be forced to release a statement. And I don’t–”

“You don’t want people to assume you’re a werewolf?” Asked Remus, a slight edge to his voice that made you frown. “Are you ashamed?”

“What? No, I– Remus. I just don’t want people to know, okay? It’s not because I’m ashamed, or have some negative feelings towards werewolves or… or– Why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?” You exhaled abruptly, then met his gaze. “Would you want people to know about your lycanthropy, Remus?”

“Absolutely not.” He said quickly, without thinking, too. 

People being aware of his condition had always been one of his deepest fears, one he carried throughout his school years and even after graduating Hogwarts; when tensions and rumors of a war started to surface, many people turning their backs on each other and ‘lesser’ creatures that didn’t fit the pureblood ideologies. He supposed it was a very valid fear, but having you asking him that question felt like a slap across his face. A wake up call of what he had been dreading since that meeting with the Order and Dumbledore laid down the conditions for him. 

“Then why would I want people to know about what happened with my family? So everyone in the Ministry can have their own ‘I knew it’ moment? I think werewolves already have enough on their plate for me to add more fuel to the fire.” You said between nervous sips of your tea, Remus’ own tea already being a sad, cold thing. “Especially when it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big– You almost died, y/n.” He said, desperate to make you see his point, a point Remus himself wasn’t sure what was. “How could you say it’s not a big deal?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not about to turn my family into a sob story for the Daily Prophet just because I didn’t attend the bloody support group.” You sighed, and this time you reached over to take his hand. “Remus, I like you, okay? I truly do, but you need to stop seeing yourself like this lesser, undeserving person–”

“How could I not?” He snapped, making you frown deeper at his tone. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just— How can you think that way about werewolves, so.. so benevolent, when we killed your family? Attacked you without reason?”

“Us? Without reason? They were sent to do it, none of the werewolves in Voldemort’s barracks had a say on anything. Yes, they might have had some reason or they probably were conditioned to think like the rest of them… But I don’t go around using my… my case to tell people all werewolves are the cruel monsters they’re painted to be. Not all of them anyway.” You searched for his eyes, hoping he would understand your point. When it was clear he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you dropped his hand in favor of holding his face. Remus’ lips parted in surprise. “You need to stop putting yourself under the same category as them. You’re not them, Remus. Neither are the people in our group. Greyback and their people… They’re the ones in the wrong, the ones that want to harm their fellows by feeding into the harmful stereotypes.”

Remus let out a breath, like he had been holding it for a long time, his eyes never once leaving yours as you both stared at each other, a promise in your gazes. Your eyebrows pinched slightly, and he had the sudden thought that maybe you weren’t done, or worse, had changed your mind mid rant. He shyly reached over to place his hand on the side of your head, long finger gently combing the baby hairs of your temple behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, afraid that speaking up would scare you away from cradling his face in your hands. Remus thought he could get lost in your touch. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, or get so… defensive.”

“I think… I think some defensiveness is alright.” You allowed, your features relaxing as you whispered back. “But it’s really alright, Remus. We must’ve had to have this conversation at some point, though now and with a baby quite literally sleeping above us wasn’t the scenario I had in mind.”

Remus took your attempt at a lighthearted joke as a sign to change the topic, “Have many scenarios with me, then, dove?” He asked with a tiny smirk, you dropped your hands from his face.

“You’re truly insufferable, Moon— Wait, is that why your friends call you Moony?”

His hand moved from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his thumb sweeping your baby hairs up and down in a way that brought goosebumps to your skin. Remus smiled like that had been his plan all along.

“Don’t call me Moony,” He said suddenly, and you blinked in surprise. He was quick to fix your train of thought, “Every time you call me Moony I really, really want to kiss you. If you do it again, I fear I won’t be able to hold back.”

This brought a shy smile to your face, but as quickly as it came, it turned into a smirk. “Terribly sorry, then, Moony.” 

He let out a startled laugh, and brought his other hand to your cheek, a silent permission to proceed with his intention. You, for your part, seemed in a daze as you breathlessly roved your eyes over his face, hands around the crook of his elbows as you scooted closer. Remus watched in awe as your eyes fixated on his lips with something akin to yearning, and self-restraint be damned, he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his lips over yours. 

Now it’s important to say he desperately made a plan of kissing you silly all night as soon as he tasted your lips and the faint notes of bergamot from your tea, he decided to never let go of you, to kiss you until the skin of your lips were the least of your concerns, had it not been by the door being opened wide open in a swift, loud motion. Sirius gasped dramatically at the sight before him, James and Lily in toe with similar reactions, you and Remus sprung away almost immediately at the commotion. 

“Oh– Moony!” He said, a hand to his chest as if he had been the one caught. “In my own home? In my own couch that I bought? How fucking dare you! I’m kicking you out, you ingrate.” 

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“I don’t even live here.” Remus said simultaneously. 

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest sight?” Said Lily as she walked to you, ignoring her husband’s antics. You stood up almost on reflex to accept her hug, your movements awkward. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing alright.” You said, your hand instantly finding a patch of skin to pick in your lips. Remus’ eyes followed the movement. 

“She ought to be alright, based on what we just walked into.” James pointed, walking to you both, Remus nudged him rather loudly. “Hi, James Potter, big fan.”

You smiled bemusedly and searched for Remus’ eyes. “I thought that was Lily?”

“Yeah, right, as if Lils could even differentiate a quaffle from a bludger.” Sirius joked, then stretched his hand out to you, as if you both hadn’t shared the majority of your classes at school. “Sirius.” 

You chuckled, grateful for the distraction to compose yourself. “I know.” You said, but shook his hand nonetheless. “But it’s nice seeing you lot again.” 

“And what brings you here this beautiful evening, y/n?” Lily asked, making herself comfortable on a wingback chair next to the couch. The blue color of the chair a high contrast to her green dress. 

Both James and Sirius seemed in a daze as they ogled Lily, you cleared your throat awkwardly, “Well, I…” You turned to Remus with wide eyes.

“She came here to help me with the menace that is your son.” Completed Remus, “Not that you wouldn’t know, seeing you made him that way.”

“Well, good for Harry,” Said Sirius as he draped himself over Lily, she accommodated herself to hug his middle. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.” 

“It really was no problem,” You interrupted, knowing well they could banter the entire night had none of you butted in. “He basically fell asleep after I got here.” 

“Oh?” James said, turning to Remus, who groaned and threw his head back. The bespectacled boy reached over Remus to address you, “You mean Remus or Harry?”

“So this git has been kissing you all night? Using my son as bait?” Sirius asked in faux indignation, though his fingers calmly toyed with Lily’s hair. “Remus you cheeky bastard.”

“Can everyone please stop attacking me?” 

“No can do, Moony. It’s hardly an attack when we’re telling the truth, you’re a real git and a pretty cheeky one too sometimes.” 

Remus looked at you imploringly, “Dove, need me to walk you home?”

“Add educated to the list, too.” Said Lily in between giggles. You smiled. “Maybe you’re not so bad, Remus, isn’t he, y/n?”

“He’s quite alright.” You said breezily, desperately trying to hide away the blush in your cheeks. You turned to Remus, “You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all.” He shook his head and walked to the door. Pointedly flipping his friends off. “Here,” 

You grabbed your coat from his hand. “Oh, thank you.”

“‘Not at all’ he says! When just the other day he properly groaned at me for asking if he could peel me an apple!” James said with a smile as he watched Remus help you bundle up for the cold. “You know, Pads, maybe he is an ingrate.” 

“I told you, but you never listen.” Supplied Sirius, both men offering you and Remus an out. 

Lily loosened her hold around Sirius to send you a tiny wave which you returned enthusiastically before stepping out the door. Had it not been that it was still reeling from your kiss, Remus’ heart would’ve probably combursted right then and there at your silly interactions with his own friends. He felt a really warm, sweet feeling settling in his chest when he realized you fit perfectly in their little family, eagerly following along in their banter against him. Remus hoped the sight would be something to last him for the rest of his life. 

—

The stress and uncertainty from the other night, a full moon, where you waited for Remus to let you know it had been alright and managed to return home without problem seemed difficult to wear off, the lingering anxiety settling in your body like it planned to stay there for a while. You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in the middle of your chest as you walked towards the pitch, hands distractedly fixing your gloves and gear as the coach threw pointers no doubt to the players already in the field. Calista, the team captain, immediately flew down to meet you on the floor as soon as she spotted you, her face pale and an alarmed look on her eyes. 

“Morning,” You said, watching her walk towards you with tentative steps, she seemed in a state of restlessness as her gaze traveled over your surroundings. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I don’t know who talked to them,” She replied instead, and you frowned. When she realized you genuinely had no idea, she presented you with a rumpled page from the Daily Prophet. “I’m so sorry, I know you didn’t want people to know.” 

Your eyes skimmed hurriedly over the page, the knot in your stomach you had previously deemed a stomach ache turned into a full blown hollow feeling that consumed you whole. Calista reached to pat your shoulder consolingly, and it seemed that’s all you needed to shake you off your shock. 

“How could they—” 

“Well, isn’t this our lovely star,” Came a voice you recognized well, you turned to find Partridge herself walking over to you with a smirk on her face. “Is your furry little fella alright? Heard last night was quite the moon.”

“He’s not– What the fuck, Partridge?” You managed to say, your blood slowly boiled to the point of seeing red. It seemed that was the reaction your problematic teammate had been aiming for. “You did this?” You lifted the page to her eyes, by the look of her eyes you immediately knew she recognized it before you could present it to her. 

“I owed Skeeter a favor,” She shrugged, taking her gloves off nonchalantly. You did the same, but with completely different intentions. “What? Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“You knew damn well,” You spat, angrily throwing your gloves and the page away. Partridge’s facade changed as she studied your stance, but she recovered quickly. 

“Well, I thought you had stopped worrying about it, seeing that you so thoroughly enjoy associating yourself with the likes of your people and half-breed monsters in broad daylight.” 

You reeled back, as if she had actually punched you in the face but you schooled your face almost immediately. “Well, of course, I see you nearly everyday, don’t I?”

She marched to you in anger, but you stayed still in your place. “You little bitch, don’t think for a second you will keep your spot in the league after this. Why, you stupid mudblood.”

You laughed bitterly, “You think I’m scared of you, Partridge? Or losing my spot? Unlike you, I’m a bloody good player, any team will scout me as soon as I drop the Harpies.” With a sudden feeling of satisfaction, you noticed her clenching her fists. You added, “Also… Mudblood? Really? Wait– Is this why you’re so miffed with me? Because a muggleborn is a better Quidditch player than you? Well, you got another thing coming–”

You felt the sting before your eyes could even follow the movement of her hand, slapping you across the face with a strong hand. Calista gasped loud enough to catch the coach’s attention, she stepped forward to push Partridge away from you but you raised a hand. 

“You show me every day how pathetic you truly are. That’s all you got? Cause I’d really like to give you a real demonstration.” You smiled, a wicked thing that had your teammate leaning back with surprise and Calista swallowing anxiously. 

“Now let’s not–”

Well, you truly would’ve loved to say that had been the end of it, that the coach had reached you both in time to end the upcoming brawl. But none of that had happened, all thanks to your quick seeker reflexes and pent-up anger, you had Partridge on the floor in a quick second. She screamed but managed to throw punches as you, despite your ire-charged reaction, decided to only give her a scare. You had to give it to her, she had a rather appropriate right hook that you had the misfortune of intercepting while you were pulled away. Calista and the rest of the team paused as they studied you, you brought your hand to your left eye, feeling suddenly rather dizzy and a little nauseous. 

“What the devil is happening here?!” Yelled the coach as he inspected the outcome, grateful that you weren’t visibly injured, or well– “Partridge, did you just hit your teammate square in the bloody eye?! What’s the matter with you?” 

“She–She jumped at me! She’s mad!” Partridge pointed at you, you looked up to find her properly rumpled but not hurt at all. “She said she would give me a demonstration, then– then attacked me!” 

“Attacked you?! You hit me first!”

“That’s enough out of you,” The coach spat, turning to you to inspect your eye, he clicked his tongue pensively. “Need you to go to the healer to get this checked.”

“But–” 

“I’ll handle your teammate. Surely there’s an explanation to this circus.” He turned to Calista, who straightened her posture in very captain fashion. She nodded at you, a silent promise that she would make sure Partridge wouldn’t get out of it unscathed. “Go.”

You exhaled abruptly and grabbed your gloves from the floor, making way to the healer’s tiny cubicle to get your eye checked. As you walked out the pitch, you caught a glimpse of the page you sent flying mid brawl, a candid photo of you and Remus kissing one late night after the meeting, a few days ago. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach but now for completely different reasons. 

—

“And I still hear it, minutes before the transformation, sometimes I can feel him lingering close, even though he’s locked away!” Exclaimed McDougall, a thin man that had been a victim of the Imperius curse by Riddle himself. You frowned as you listened to his heart-felt rant, your eyes very pointedly trying to look everywhere but at Remus. “It’s driving me mad!” 

You watched in curiosity as Remus raised his hand. 

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the healer kindly, Remus nodded, then cleared his throat. “Go on, then.”

“Uh, this happens to me too.” He spoke out, voice scratchy like it hurt him to speak. You bit your lip anxiously. “What I do, uh, I like to play music, I’ve found that the wolf likes it during the transformation. It helps, sometimes, with the voices.” 

You studied him meticulously, taking inventory of his scars and the new ones he acquired the night before. His hand shook slightly where he rested it over his knee, the previous scars in his hands a faint red as if they had been reopened again, a bandage peeked out from his sleeve. His hair disheveled a little like he tried to comb it but gave up mid action, but other than that, he looked like the same Remus you had grown to adore. His amber eyes met yours as Healer Figg continued talking to the rest of the group, and he sent you a soft, tentative smile. You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you waved shyly at him, a tentative tiny thing. 

As soon as you left the healer’s office at the pitch and after you met with the coach, you made your way to your flat to assess the damage before it was time for the meeting. You had desperately tried multiple beautying spells and make up products to make the black bruise taking up most of your eye and temple so faint that it would pass right through Remus. Your efforts were to no avail, so you decided to get there a bit later than usual in order to avoid him questioning you about what had happened, or worse, you telling him about the article on the Daily Prophet. You weren’t sure which one you dreaded the most. 

“Thank you everyone for coming, again, it has been delightful to see the outcomes of the group, you all have progressed very much.” Healer Figgs said, pulling you out of your own head as she turned to you. “Let’s all extend our applause and say goodbye to our companion, y/n, who has successfully finished her time with us.” You looked away from Remus, who you felt staring right through your soul as you shyly smiled at the rest of the group. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, laying back on your chair as if you wished to disappear against the wall. Everyone stood up, and you took that as your queue to finally leave. 

Your hand shook slightly as you opened the door of St. Mungo’s and caught a breath of fresh air. You dug inside your purse and brought a cigarette to your lips, somewhere behind you the door opened again and quick steps followed you. 

“What was that? Back there?” Remus breathed out, catching up to you. You looked down in order to hide your face from him with your hair, he frowned. “You’re done?” 

“Yeah, um, I was told today I filled my quota for the league.” You said quietly, Remus had to lean closer to hear you. “I was going to tell you–”

“When? Today? When you barely said hi to me the moment you got here?” 

You sighed dejectedly and brought the lighter to your lips. To your rotten luck, the flame lightened your face and gave Remus a very clear glimpse of your pathetic attempt at covering your marred skin. 

He inhaled sharply and gently grabbed your face in his hands, “What happened to you?” Your lips parted in surprise around the cigarette and met his worried gaze. His thumb swept over the skin and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry… Dove, who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing.” You said under your breath, shaky fingers plucking the cig out of your lips. “Really, Remus, it was just an accident.” 

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyes studied you, and you suddenly felt very insecure about your face. Stupid Partridge, you thought. “Are we keeping secrets now?”

“What? Remus, no.” You reached to grab his wrist with your free hand, your hold earnest and desperate as you looked into his eyes. “I just… I just didn’t want you to worry. That’s all.”

“Well, I ought to be worried,” He frowned, bringing your temple to his lips, where they lingered a beat too long as you both savored your hold on each other. 

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, “It was one of my teammates.” You finally said after a moment, Remus pulled back with a frown. “Did you read the Daily Prophet today?” 

“Ah,” He nodded, and grabbed the cigarette from your hand. You watched in awe as he pensively studied you, then, “I had an inkling it was about that.”

“You saw it?” 

“Of course I did, James dumped about 7 copies on me this morning, full moon be damned.” He said, you smiled despite your anxiety. Remus mirrored your tiny smile, happy that his efforts worked. “It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But, she… she aired your condition to everyone.” You supplied quietly, a slight frown in your eyebrows that Remus wished to kiss away. “She called you a–” You seemed to work yourself up again, and he wondered what exactly went down to bring this kind of reaction out of you. 

“I don’t care, she doesn’t know a damn thing about me.” He said, and put out the cigarette in favor of holding your face again. “There was a time I would’ve cared, and would’ve tortured myself about that, but now it all slides right off. Dove, please don’t go around picking fights for me. Especially with people like her.”

You looked down, eyes fixated on a spot in his chest. Remus suddenly thought you looked very beautiful, a slight vulnerability to your demeanor that made you look angelic. He kissed your temple again, very softly to not hurt you, then searched for your gaze. 

“But that’s not everything, isn’t it?”

You met his gaze, and his heart ached at the glossiness in your eyes. His eyebrows pinched slightly, and watched as you curled your arms around his middle, your hold desperate for comfort. Remus sighed as you hid your face in the safety of the crock of his neck. 

“I tried really hard to protect them from… from people commenting on their story, how they died. I didn’t want them to become another fatality of the war, and–” To your horror, a tiny sob left your lips and you closed your eyes. Remus thumbed the tears in your cheeks away with very gentle movements, careful of your tender skin. “I couldn’t even do that. I keep just failing them day after day, the league pulling me back, getting into fights and proving everyone right all along. I… I don’t know what to do, the least I could do is be someone worthy for them and to honor them after they died because of me and–”

“Wait, no. They didn’t die because of you.” He frowned, and you seemed to have a hard time meeting his gaze, he curled a hand under your chin to look into your sad, teary eyes. “How could it be your fault? Dove, that man is at fault, he’s the one that killed them, he sent the order. There’s no way you would’ve known.”

“But… but I could’ve tried harder at protecting them. I should’ve done something.” You finally let out the thought that had been consuming you for months and kept you up at night. “How can people call me bright and promising in that stupid magazine… If they only knew how useless I was during the war.” You chuckled humorlessly. Remus decided he had enough of it.

“Listen to me, y/n. You being this incredible, promising witch and your parents’ deaths aren’t mutually exclusive. Voldemort targeted all the muggles and wizards that didn’t follow along his insane ideology, there was nothing you could do to stop that from happening, I know you don’t want to call it that but it truly was a tragedy… because no matter what you had tried to do, he sent his best men to kill you and your family knowing it would be one against four. It was meant to be a tragedy whatever the outcome. And your parents? They would've been so bloody proud of you for fighting the death eaters off, for surviving and fighting tooth and nail for your future that was almost ripped away from you. Don’t… don’t count yourself out just because of this, it might feel like it sometimes… but you’re not alone.”

You bit your lip, finally meeting his gaze. Remus exhaled deeply as he finished off his desperate rant, some fight still lingering inside of him to make you see his perspective. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally said, your finger sweeping back and forth where your hand held his wrist. Remus watched as you inhaled, channeling all your strength to compose yourself. “I… Thank you, Remus.” 

He smiled softly, “No need to be sorry, or to thank me. I would do this every day, pretty much like you would, too.” You blushed, and he found himself ignoring his self-control and leaned forward to kiss your lips. They tasted a tad salty, but not any less sweet. 

“They would’ve really liked you,” You said as you broke away, Remus’ smile got impossibly wider and grabbed the sides of your face to kiss you again. “Ouch.”

He gasped, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss just shy of your bruise. “Let’s go get you fixed up, hm?” He placed his arm around your shoulders, and you trailed next to him in a daze. Still slightly shaken up, Remus noticed; he tried another angle. “So, proved myself worthy to the in-laws already?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Don’t let it get to your head, though.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you rounded the corner, his flat building in view. 

Remus sighed happily as he dug inside the pocket of his jacket for his keys, his other arm head-set in holding you close to his side. You, for your part, seemed to enjoy his hold around you and walked next to him with a tiny, shy smile, your hand picking at the skin of your lips distractedly. 

“Here,” He helped you out your coat as you both walked in. You immediately took notice of the homely ambience to it, Remus’ taste all over the flat as your eyes rovered the room with curiosity. Remus’ heart did a little flip as he studied you, “Wait here, I’ll go check what potions I have for your eye.” 

You nodded then made a beeline to his couch, a worn out, lived in thing that matched with the decor in the walls. Just like the Potters’, he had countless photographs hung up on all the walls, evidence of his happiness despite the numerous trials he had suffered in the past. The biggest one, you noticed, was one of him holding Harry as a newborn, his amber eyes red and with some tears welling up, you felt a tug in your heart as you scanned it. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Said Remus with a breathy chuckle as he walked to you, a container and wet cloth in his hands. You laughed as you walked to him, “What is it with you and photographs?” 

You shrugged as you sat in front of him on the couch, Remus placed the container on his knee before gently pressing the warm cloth to your face, to remove your flakey concealer no doubt.

“I’m used to still images back home, seeing them move is something I don’t think I can get used to–Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus placated, a slight frown to his eyebrows, he made his movements extra gentle to not hurt you again. “A very valid point.” He added, then placed the cloth down. “Ow, dovey, that was a hard punch, it seems.”

“You should’ve seen Partridge.” 

“You hit her?”

“Nah, just gave her a scare. Also gave her a proper demonstration on how it’s done, real muggle style.” He barked a laugh, and opened the container next. You scrunched up your nose at the smell. “That’s foul. Is the smell alone a punishment for getting into a fight?”

“Probably,” He hummed, eyes fixated on your bruise as he gently patted the cream potion on your skin. You felt your insides mushy and soft with gratefulness and something akin to love for him. “I stole this from Madam Pomfrey so I wouldn’t put it past her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Using your Pomfrey privileges to steal supplies? Oh, Moony, you’re incorrigible.” Remus paused his ministrations to meet your eyes, you smirked playfully at him.

“You will have your kiss after I finish this, dove, do not fret.” He commented breezily, thoroughly enjoying the way you flushed. Remus chuckled as he finished putting the rest of the potion on your eye and kissed it softly, he grimaced, “Shit, that really is foul. Terribly sorry, dovey.”

You laughed. “It’s okay.” Remus placed the container and cloth away to fully face you, you smiled up at him with something giddy and excited in your chest. “So, where’s my–”

Remus smiled, a wide, bright smile that almost blinded you as he grabbed the nape of your neck and pressed his lips against yours. You laughed against his lips, your mood suddenly lifted now that you had what you wanted, Remus kissing you silly and holding onto you like you were about to fly away, and by the happy sigh that left your lips when you momentarily broke away, he wasn’t so far off. You shyly reached over and placed your hands tentatively around his middle, Remus, without breaking away, grabbed your arms and circled them around him, a permission to hold onto him as much as you wanted. You readily accepted the invitation, fisting his jumper with longing and deepened the kiss. 

“Not here,” Mumbled Remus between kisses, he helped you up and immediately pressed his lips against yours again, as if stopping kissing you could physically harm him. “Dove,” He said breathlessly as he pulled you to your feet, you let him manhandle you, a wicked smile on your lips as you pulled him back down to you. “Come on,” He held your hand and guided you down the hall, no doubt to his room, your insides suddenly recoiled with anxiety. 

You sighed as he kissed you again, his fingers toying with the hem of your jumper, you sucked in a breath and deepened the kiss again, hoping it would distract him from his intentioned hands in your middle, but to no avail, he unconsciously lifted the hem and placed his hands over the scarred skin around your waist, if what he found troubled him, he didn’t show, but you stilled and Remus pulled away slowly at your reaction.

“Dove?” He frowned slightly, and you willed your lungs to accept air as you breathed quietly, “Was I too harsh with you? I’m sorry,” His hands found your face again, and you met his gaze, his lips parted in surprise as he noticed the troubled look in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I just..” You sighed, biting your lip nervously. Your fingers grabbed the hem of your jumper, Remus’ eyes flashed with realization. “I haven’t been with anyone… after… you know.” 

“Oh,” He breathed out, scanning your face for regret, but you seemed mortified enough to even meet his eyes. “They don’t bother me, but if they do to you, I won’t touch them. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” You said under your breath, suddenly feeling like you wanted to cry. Why was your past so adamant to ruin your present? You thought bitterly. “I don’t know why I… I’m sorry,”

“Hey, it’s quite alright.” Remus leaned down to search for your eyes, he cupped your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, dove. It truly doesn’t bother me, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” You said, holding onto him in the desperate selfish way he was starting to adore. “I just, I keep forgetting they’re… there and it always feels like a rude wake up call when I notice them.”

“I get it,” He nodded, and kissed your eyebrow. “Believe me, I do. Mine used to bother me too, not so long ago, but they’re part of me, of my story. Though they hurt like hell, I’ve eventually learned to accept them. It’s okay if you’re not ready to accept yours, lovely girl.”

You looked up at him, very overwhelmed with gratitude and love for him, you were sure your heart could explode soon. Remus seemed to notice it as he lifted an eyebrow in question, and kissed the corner of your lips after you gave him a short nod. When he pulled away and walked a few steps back from his bed to give you space, you were only mildly disappointed at the distance. 

“We don’t have to do anything, but you can stay over if you want. Have a cwtch, maybe?” He asked, offering a tiny olive branch that felt gigantic to you. You smiled and nodded eagerly, he mirrored your giddy reaction and brought your hand to his lips. 

Remus nodded and laughed when none of you made to move, “I don’t have…” You trailed off, and his face brightened. 

“Oh, no need to worry about that,” He smiled and walked to his drawers, excitedly shuffling some things inside, then lifted a black shirt out. “You like Bowie, don’t you?” 

You laughed and accepted the clothes he presented you, he placed a kiss to the crown of your head as you followed him to his bathroom. Your limbs suddenly felt rather heavy and exhausted as you changed your clothes into his, a ratty Bowie shirt and some boxers that looked awfully big on you. You tried to not stare at your reflection in the mirror as you changed, but had enough courage to inspect his healing work on your bruise. Small steps, you supposed. 

Remus felt his own heart falling out of his arse when he stepped out of his own bathroom, to find you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, looking around his room and fighting against a yawn that tried to escape your lips. He was overwhelmed with tons of feelings as he walked to the bed and threw himself over it, pulling you down with him. The sound of your surprised giggles echoed around the room as he propped himself over his elbow, eyes full of love as he looked at you. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked quietly then, your finger tracing the letters of his own shirt. Remus held your hand captive and kissed your palm, then reached over and kissed you. “Remus,” You giggled as he placed sloppy kisses on your face, cautious of your eye. 

“Just happy, ‘s all.” He mumbled as he pulled you close to him, you happily accepted his hug. “I still can’t believe I went to that support group just to get signed off for a job, and not only left with a job but with the prettiest, smartest witch as my girlfriend.” Your chuckle came in a sleepy breath, eyes closed as you drowned in the sound of his voice. Remus didn’t mind, telling you all that was his own private indulgence. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “And she fights for my honor unprovoked, too.” He added. 

“Of course that’s the part you fixate on,” You mumbled, words quiet and slurred like you fought against sleep to speak out. 

Remus fought against his own drowsiness, “Oi, you think someone there caught a photo of that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“It would be a very lovely addition to the wall.”

“Remus,”

“Well, I was just thinking, since you love photographs.”

“Goodnight, Remus.” 

—

Champagne flutes sat empty over the tables as the record on the turntable echoed faintly around the room, one of the records Lily picked halfway over. James and Sirius busied themselves picking up the trash and cleaning the remaining dishes respectively as Lily climbed down the stairs after putting Harry down to sleep in his nursery. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her, Remus and you passed out on her couch, clinging to each other. You still wore your Quidditch gear from the match earlier and Remus didn’t deign to change his Holyhead Harpies jumper neither, even after the match had been won and long over. 

“They’re asleep?“ Asked Sirius, and both his spouses shushed him immediately. 

“Yeah,” Lily nodded, then walked back to the kitchen to continue helping with the tidying. Her green eyes fell on the polaroids she left out to develop. “Oh, isn’t this adorable.” She gasped with a smile as she picked them up.

She walked back to the sitting room and stood in front of the wall, eyes searching for an empty spot for the new additions. James stood behind her, a frown to his eyebrows as he helped her out. 

“What about moving these, lovie? So they can fit here.” He pointed, Lily followed his eyes and nodded excitedly. “I hardly think ickle Harry would mind.” 

Lily lifted her wand and whispered a sticking charm to the new additions, a warm, happy feeling in her chest as she admired the final product. 

There stood two new photographs to the family wall, one of you winning the Major League match, your big smile as you lifted the Golden Snitch in the air and the crowd roared behind you; the other a candid photo of you Lily took that very same night, of you and Remus dancing and laughing, both of you sporting matching bright smiles as you celebrated the big win of the night. His arm placed firmly around your waist as he playfully dipped you low, and baby Harry clapping happily somewhere in the back of the shot, but the real star of the photograph was the glistening ring in your finger as you cupped Remus’ face, Hope Lupin’s very own engagement ring that was passed down as an heirloom to you.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Pokes u

Do you have Barnacles Headcanons to share with his wife (aka me)

YES also sorry for the late response lol uhhh this is mostly just stuff from my au lol and its got different world building than the show does

Ok first off some context, in my au the reasons for PEOPLE species to have different traits is more based on environmental factors and conflicts between other groups of people. 👌

There are definitely some wild species that aren't even intelligent enough to have nearly any sapience (in simple terms its self awareness) that would probably end up being food or wtv, but like going based off of irl stuff polar bears mostly need high fat diets and unless there are a TON extra of high fat food fish thatd make the arctic pretty hard to survive

Unless ofc 👀 well they are PEOPLE people so u can convince me they'd have somehow domesticated either musk or (hoofed arctic animal) or bred some other kind of milk producing animal as a source of food

All I'm saying is that he could and would and has eaten an entire wheel of cheese before

And he absolutely has a secret stash of high fat snacks because I think he might be a liiiiittttle bit self conscious about it

Because he realized that arctic animals and non arctic animals have HUGE differences in social norms and apparently most animals don't have at least 3 inches of fat minimum on their entire body???

And its not cuz hes embarrassed of the fat, its normal and healthy, he just doesn't want to go from Trustworthy and Reliable Captain of thr Octonauts to "oh my god i need like an entire cheesecake rn to feel normal" in front of everyone cuz like 😭 he is a bit of a comfort eater. Like ah yes our strong and level headed captain is eating an entire box of oreos at 2 am because he misses his sister again 😭

Ofc the others do find out but there isn't any judgement if anything kwazii would probably join him, bro has a history of having weird food habits (hm wonder why... surely nothing related to being shipwrecked on an island and having to survive) and its nice

He does like, have THE best snacks tho and he might be hoarding them just a tiny bit-

he also can feel a bit worried about coming off as too large or intimidating so thats why he's always got his hands on his hips- and his head lowered down a bit

its not that he seems like physically scary but a larger presence can be intimidating for a lot of people

Teeth and claws aren't usually seen as intimidating in most scenarios in this world because its so common and is just like a feature of the species the same way hearing or smell can be btw

so yeah someone threatening to scratch ya can be scary but so can someone being able to find you because they can hear ur heartbeat 💀🙏

Back to the main point, like all the other octonauts aren't even like medium sized animals (like wolves and whatever), there ALL very small species. So hes like way in the upper range, the highest and tallest possible species while everyone else are all smaller ones specifically

So if barnacles is Actually Mad (💀 the scenario to make him genuinely mad has to be BAD) then he will go to his FULL HEIGHT

Cuz irl polar bears got very tall strong necks and etc so I think him standing at Full Serious Height would be very startling

Also about polar bears sense of smell!

Circling back to the adaptations being related to survival pressures and social ones

Polar bears in this world, use their sense of smell for something very important in the arctic: navigation, above and below water

It prevents things like getting lost in the wintery white world, which is so so easy for others. It can help find others than might be lost, and it can tell u if they r injured or not and I think thats precious

there is one problem tho, while their sense of smell is VERY strong, stronger than bloodhounds and etc, its made for being able to detect things very far away in freezing temperatures... so they're extremely sensitive

Which wouldn't be that much of an issue if barnacles wasn't in all sorts of more tropical environments...

In thr artic all u can smell is other people, animals, and which was is home

But if he's not in the octopod or under the water,but somewhere where there's THOUSANDS of insects,hundreds of pollinating plants, and tons and tons of different creatures all at once-

I think thats be overwhelming and he's probably be allergic to sooooooo many plants poor guy 🥺

Also even tho he like trims and thins out his thick coat, and even has a little cooling pack vest sort of thing under his uniform he can still overheat pretty easily

Cuz yk, the several inches of brown fat or blubber? Someone might say "hey just adjust ur diet and whatever to lose it" but that would be VERY UNHEALTHY for him... mess with the balance of his bodys systems yk? so its really not an option;^;

So yeah he still tends to overheat and thats why having his room canoncially set to actual arctic temperatures every night helps him sleep better and feel better

Usually alot of octonauts missions happen under water or in gups or maybe they'll spend some time on an island and it'll be hot

But with extended time spent in warmer climates he has to take alot more breaks and it can be alot harder for him

Also I think that he had a period in his early 20s college years where he was like kinda lowkey depressed because he was learning more about global warming and capitalism

, it didn't last too long fortunately because yk he met professor inkling who was already developing his idea for the octonauts

and they actuslly became really good friends and it really came together as a realistic thing when tweak got wind of em

On a more depressing note global warming for polar bears in a world where they're actual people with a unique culture and heritage means some totally different stuff

Like its not even the fact they can't even engage in their own cultural traditions (cough traveling in that one arctic global warming special where they were all exhausted cuz all the melted sea ice cough)

Its also the loss of genuine homes (in my au they're kinda like ice hobbit houses 🥰since polar bears irl will dig out shallow resting spots or mama bears will have dens with a toasty 30 degrees farenheit), architectural collapses, traditional jobs that can only be done in the arctic being lost, and being forced into more southern grounds because more and more just can't rely living there anymore

And I think that'd be super depressing to see in real time, its a cultural death

Heck even irl there's so many grizzlies going north and polar going south that they've actually started to mix and start having hybrids (grolar bears). And the thing is they're so genetically compatible that their species can actually develope into their own separate identity that might totally replace most if not all polar bears sense they're just more adapt to the changing climate and have more range,with benefits from both species

And while that sounds great on paper and makes sense and is obviously fine for them to have easier lives, I think in thr context of this world it would leave barnacles with some conflicted feelings

Because the thing is there used to be concerns about polar bears having to leave their homes to live is societies and communities that just... that their jobs wouldn't fit to. That would be physically harder for them to be healthy in. That they'd have to give up so many thousands of years of traditions thatd be impossible to carry over in.

Idk its late and I've got one braincell and idk if this makes sense and im sorry if it got depressing 😭

But yeah, so there's more and more of these younger people grolar bears, that just... will never have that full connection to their heritage. And idk I think its sad and maybe I'm projecting

Also I think that if barnacles was ever sad he'd just cope by playing the accordian lol,like the one meme of the girl playing "its a mental breakdown ✨" on a kazoo 😭

Let's end this on a happier note tho, circling back to barnacles being several feet taller than his entire crew, like-

We all already know this guy emotionally adopts every living being in sight

And well, his ENTIRE CREW literally, and I mean very literally and physically, looks up to him-

Like they all gotta turn their heads up and loon at him with big hopeful eyes ready for whatever he has to say

And im gonna be honest his composure is alot stronger than mine cux I would CRY because of how adorable that is

Like he knows its probably so unprofessional and might be seen as condescending BUT DAMN IT HE CANT HELP THR CUTENESS AGRESSION!!! HE WANTS TO SQUISH THEIR TINY FACES!!!

so sometimes hell have a very Serious and Leadership-like Captain Conversation, and then thr SECOND hes out of their sight (and hopefully hearing) HE JUST HAS TO STOP HIMSELF FROM JUST CRYING-

Cuz the second hes out of sight he will LOSE ALL COMPOSURE and need a minute because he loves them so much AND THEYRE SO FCKING SMALL-

Its kinda funny tho cuz ur captain barnacles is a pretty tiny guy, wonder howd that work for u XD

Anyways gn or whatever time it is for u 🐻‍❄️✨✨✨

Also he and Bianca call at least every week for an hour and frequently send eachother updates about what they're up to

He could talk to her about anything and she's good at talking sense into him

He makes sure that natquick gets plenty of social interaction too, that man is like his father figure

(Kinda sad but I headcanon barnacles dad died when he was really young cuz of an accident where ice collapsed, probably did not help how he felt when he got stuck in an icy hole as a kid 💀🙏)

ALSO

Barnacles looking up at u vvv

Barnaclea being his lil theater kid self^

Wait~ they don't love you ✨like I love you ✨🥰

Barnacles half awake at a late night mission when everything is done and they're just driving the gup a back home

Barnacles and Bianca on a video call

[brokenpieces-72]

New Balance

Note: This one has been sitting in my notes for a bit, and was inspired by a photo of Neil Ellice in a white sweater, and no mohawk. From there I got the idea of Soap surviving the bullet but there would still be consequences.

Amnesia, is what they told Johnny. They were able to provide him with proper living and even provided him with some work. He was encouraged to attend therapy but it wasn’t required. Some times he went if only to talk some stuff out. Johnny had a good life though. The neighbours were friendly, he had a contractor who hired him for consulting and odd jobs, decent income, and on occasion took in foster animals. Yet something always felt missing from his life. They didn’t tell him anything about his past. A clean slate, a fresh start. Then why did feel stale?

Johnny opened his eyes with a gasp and sat upright. Another dream about death. Honestly, he was considering returning to his therapist about it. He checked his clock and saw he’d woken up before his alarm again. Seriously 4AM? Again? He tried to go back to sleep but the image of a skull dressed in black kept burning into his mind. Johnny, fed up with his fruitless efforts sat up and pulled out the notepad he’d started keeping by his bed, writing down what he’d seen in his sleep. At least he could add it later on before it vanished from his head again. Johnny tried to go back to sleep grumbling to himself about his mind not letting him ignore what he’d witnessed. He maybe got an extra hour or two of just relaxing and resting before his alarm went off.

The amnesiac got out of bed, and did the usual morning routine. A small work out today, he didn’t feel up to a full one. Breakfast was simple enough, and he could pick something up on the way to his regular job. Shower, dressed, checking his pack to make sure he had everything, lunch made up. An hour to spare, with enough time to grab a bite to eat.

Johnny went to work and headed to the tire shop immediately. Fall was when everyone got their tires changed over and he could work quickly. Mix that with night stocker and he was able to cover decent enough ground. Plenty of friendlies around him, people teaching him how the warehouse worked, and people for him to teach. It also meant a lot of energy lost by the end of the night. Yet somehow sleep wanted to leave early almost every night.

He came in to find a kid cross training in the shop, still learning by getting the vehicles lifted and nuts and bolts off the tires. The noise the power socket made when it was grinding against the nuts was evident of their lacking experience. It was loud and almost sounded like gun fire. It went on for a while, of them tightening the bolts more than they maybe should. The sound was not new but it did give him a bit of anxiousness.

“Aye!” He shouted to the kid. They stopped and looked back at him. “The bolt is on, move on to the next one and get it torqued.”

“Yes sir.” You responded. The loud bang of tires breaking pulled Johnny back to where he was supposed to be. A few needed to be balanced, so he got to work on that, removing the weights, and getting new ones on.

You could curse up a storm, clearly frustrated with the screws and the weight of the tires. You were crouching so yeah that can be sore on the ankles with extra weight after a while. The concrete floors were pleasant on the knees either. Johnny noticed you looking around and fiddling with the socket, which was stuck to the nut of the wheel. Johnny finished up and called for you reading your name tag.

“I can’t get it out, I don’t know what I did wrong.” You said distressed. Johnny could deal with it.

“Get these on to the one in bay two. I’ll fix this.” Johnny said, offering a newly balanced tire. You got right on it, quickly. At least you had that down. Unfortunately you seemed to be making plenty of mistakes. Not your fault, some were out of your control. The bolts were sticky on some, others were hard to find the lift points. You kept apologizing, with some of the other employees as well.

Johnny had you as a night stocker in his department. Worked hard and quick but fell behind sometimes. Sometimes Johnny had to remind you to pick up the pace. You just needed a few pointers, and reminders to stay focused.

The day was tiring. Eventually it ended though. As Johnny gave his farewell to the older manager lady, he stepped out to let the cold air fill his lungs. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to relax before the drive back home.

You were sitting at the picnic table just outside the exit door. You were shivering a little, and checking your phone. A little young for you to be out here alone. Late to be out here alone. Johnny had finished later giving him some over time, but you finished sooner than him. Chilly out too.

“Oi kid?” Johnny said. You looked up, arms folded, shivering and hunched over. “You getting picked up?”

“My uh… my uncle was supposed to pick me up, but… guess he forgot. Just waiting for someone to come.”

“Don’t ya live near me?” Johnny asked. You gave him your address, and yep, it was maybe a five minute drive from away from his place. “Want a ride?”

“You sure?”

Johnny jerked his head. “Not that far out of my way.”

You got off the table and followed the older man, the backpack slung over your shoulder. Johnny didn’t mind driving a little further down the road.

“Sorry for causing any trouble today.” You said.

“Stuff happens. Don’t worry too much.” Johnny assured her. You started chatting with him, learning more about him, and he learned more about you. Little artist who had your sketchbook out every day before starting your shift, played video games, and liked animals.

Once they reached your home, Johnny let you get out but waited as you went up to the door. The uncle was supposed to leave the spare key out or the door unlocked. Johnny already didn’t trust this. He watched as you fumbled around the door trying to get in. Johnny got out of his car and beckoned you back in. No way in hell he would let you stay on the porch.

He got you in his car and drove to his place.

You kept saying sorry. Johnny told you again, it was fine. Besides he didn’t mind the company, living alone. If anything he was concerned you might be the one uncomfortable. A blanket was found and a pillow, and you curled up on the couch. You fell asleep before Johnny could say good night. It was a lot of work, he doesn’t blame you.

The next morning though you were gone. A note was left saying you’d gone back home, and thanking him for letting you stay the night. Johnny shrugged it off, got breakfast made and some small work done before heading off to work himself. He expected you to be at work at least and you showed up early once again. Almost an hour early. He didn’t know if your perception of time was off but then he saw you in your sketchbook. The doodles were pretty cute, and he realized it was the kittens he was fostering. Once his stuff was ready he sat down next to you and asked about your work. Another apology for sleeping and dipping, and then he got his answers.

A couple of weeks passed by, and you had come around to Johnny’s place a few times to stay the night. Johnny didn’t mind putting you up, but he told you to get a spare key so you could get back in your house. A few times you did get picked up, and Johnny tried to talk to your uncle. Each time he missed out, or the Uncle told him he didn’t have time to talk. Johnny would let it go, shaking his head.

In the tire shop, the noise was high. When tightening the bolts, on the wheels, once tight the loud clicking from the socket unable to move can be loud, and grinding. Johnny found himself looking up every time it rang out. The night before, his sleep had been riddled with shouts and gunfire. The kid was doing it, to make sure the wheel was on properly, to reduce the work of torquing. A few others were as well, but it kept pulling Johnny’s attention, making him stare off. It was making his heart thump harder in his chest, and the air to thin around him. The manager had to snap him out of it a few times, offering to take over whatever he was working on.

You took notice of him a few times but assumed he just got distracted. It started to be a pattern though, and with the busy schedule and getting backed up, there wasn’t much time to stand around. You finished bagging the tire you were on, loading it in the back of a car. Johnny was right by the pile of junk tires, bracing himself against one of them. Without a word, you touched Johnny’s arm bringing him to reality again. Johnny tried to go back to work, but no. You were insistent on him stepping out of the shop to get some water.

“I haven’t been keeping you up have I?” You asked.

“No no… m’fine. Ah’m just…” Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. You told him to wait outside in the quieter part of the shop, and went back in to get Johnny one of the mini chocolates someone bought for the tire shop team.

“Take a minute. Have some water. Have your chocolate. Come back in when you’re ready.” You said. Johnny nodded, appreciating the your concern for him. Yeah, he needed a break. If it was to get away from being overwhelmed then that was fine. You disappeared back into the shop while Johnny sighed, leaning against a stack of tires. Yeah that chocolate felt good along with the cold water washing it down.

The dream felt too real last night. It was a fast blur but a few things had stood out to him, having seen them before previous nights. The thing that should’ve haunted him was seeing death. He swore that’s what it was, the grim reaper. There were times he swore he saw it outside of his house too but passed it off as just nerves. It should haunt him… so why didn’t it?

“Aye. Try to stay awake.” Johnny said, nudging you in the passenger seat. You yawned and stretched in your seat as much as you could. Both of you were exhausted. Johnny had been getting plenty of commissions for consulting, along with regular work. You had been working overtime quite a bit lately. Thank god the weekend was tomorrow. Johnny had offered to let you stay the night, seeing you drag yourself through the last couple of work days. You could sleep in hopefully, instead of taking off before the sun could.

“M’tryin…” You said sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Ya did good today.” He said, hoping conversation would help keep you awake.

“Thanks for letting me stay tonight.” You said.

“I’m not driving all the way to your place tonight, and I cannae let you go walking by yourself.” Johnny exclaimed.

Once you got to Johnny’s place, he let the you in, and then turned around. The road wasn’t very well-lit but he scanned the trees and houses anyways. It was a more rural area, less people and houses, so someone standing and watching like Michael Myers catches peoples’ attention. Yet the only thing stirring was the trees from the wind. Johnny was alert, trying to discern shapes and rule them out as anomalies.

“Johnny?” You asked from behind. Johnny didn’t say anything, instead stepped inside, still watching before shutting the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m.” Johnny assured you, but he wasn’t so sure himself. You didn’t press. Only asked where the spare blanket was. Johnny wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch tonight, and instead led you to the small guest room he had. You seemed to appreciate that, thanking him and offering a hug. Johnny gladly accepted the offer.

Once Johnny left you to wash up and tuck yourself in, he went to the kitchen. Then he started to draw the curtains, not wanting anyone to see inside his home. After that he went to the basement and inside a small closet in a makeshift office space. It was under lock and key, one that Johnny kept on him at all times. Unlocking it he took inventory of the small weapons stash he had, seeing if anything had been taken out without him noticing. Everything was accounted for. He shut the doors and locked it back up.

Johnny wasn’t a stranger to pattern recognition. After having a few dreams of death he knew it meant something. He wasn’t willing to talk to his therapist about it. But by now, he’d started to piece some things together about his past. In a side room next to the closet, was a chair. A chair sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by thoughts, ideas, notes, scribbles and even news clippings that Johnny had collected over the past couple months or so. It was a lot, with not a single spot of the painted dry wall peeking through. Johnny couldn’t even remember the colour of the walls. He tried to add something each night, especially after having dreams of him being in high adrenaline situations, with gunfire and shouting and death. Yes, couldn’t forget about death.

Not tonight. Take a break tonight. Johnny was worn out and fixating would just make him feel even more tired the next day. He would be fine tomorrow, a long sleep, a good breakfast, and chilling with you. That he could live with.

Outside, he watched his old friend stare out from his front porch looking. Did Johnny know who he was looking for? Maybe. Unlikely. Just to be safe, he moved into cover, as you called Johnny into the house. He’d seen you leave from Johnny’s house more than once, and hurry home. After a while he was going to pack it in, assuming Johnny had gone to bed by now. Then Johnny did something he hadn’t expected. Johnny drew the curtains closed. There were no signs of Johnny after that, but the curtains were a sign themselves.

Johnny’s gut hadn’t changed. The drawn curtains were to keep prying eyes from looking in. What prying eyes could Johnny be avoiding? Or was it him that Johnny was concerned about?

He waited a couple hours before finally walking away, keeping himself inconspicuous as he headed to his vehicle. If Johnny was remembering it could be a good thing. The question was whether Johnny would be willing to come back after everything he’d made for himself.

After a few seconds of mulling it over Simon drove back to the safe house.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf

[pixiexdusts-world]

No damsel here

Arisu x reader

Summary: A fearless player proves she doesn’t need Arisu’s protection. After a brutal game, he admits he cares—she’s not going anywhere.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Survival in the Borderlands wasn’t about being the strongest or the smartest. It was about being stubborn. And if there was one thing I was, it was stubborn.

Arisu never said it out loud, but I knew he worried about me. I could see it in the way his eyes flicked to me during games, his fingers twitching like he was always one second away from pulling me behind him. It was sweet, really. But I wasn’t some damsel waiting to be saved.

And I made damn sure he knew that.

“Stay behind me,” he said once, right before a clubs game.

I scoffed. “Yeah, not happening.”

He gave me that exasperated look, the one he always did when I was about to do something he deemed ‘reckless.’ But I wasn’t reckless—I was calculated. I knew exactly what I was doing.

The game was brutal, like they always were, but I held my own. Dodged when I needed to, fought when I had to. At one point, I caught Arisu watching me—half impressed, half worried. I just smirked and blew him a kiss.

“You focus on surviving, genius,” I teased. “I’ve got this.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue. He knew better by now.

Later, after we made it through with barely a scratch, he pulled me aside, his fingers wrapping tightly around my wrist.

“You don’t always have to charge in like that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You could get hurt.”

I arched an eyebrow. “So could you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” I challenged, stepping closer, daring him to come up with an excuse. “You think I can’t handle myself? Because last I checked, I’m still standing here.”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he might argue. But then he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I know you’re tough. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I crossed my arms and smirked. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not easy to get rid of.”

Arisu chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting in that rare, soft way that made my heart do stupid things. He pulled me into a tight hug, and for a moment, I let myself sink into it—just a little.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered.

“I know,” I murmured into his chest, grinning. “But you love it.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

And just like that, the Borderlands didn’t seem so impossible. Because no matter how many games they threw at us, I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t going down without a fight.

[marcusrobertobaq]

I think he's more worried about ceasing to exist as failure than actually just *puff* dying. Like, imagine being made to feel proud of being a slave just to fail his sole purpose? Depressing. And to die for really nothing? A damn punch. As any other android he has self-preservation but between tossing aside and letting it distract him it's better for the mission if he survives. His true denial is denying CyberLife is wrong about deviants, consequently he being wrong about deviants. He's, like, seeing all these signs he got in his mind are deviant shit (and deviant shit means failure = you're done) and thinking he himself is compromised according to his previous info but at the same time he's like "I still not a deviant?", know what i mean? He's conflicted in what to believe cuz all his own clues (and lack of knowledge about his background) points towards he being defective (a deviant), but if he were a deviant he'd def know cuz the brainwashing says it's something unacceptable and that'll be obvious when it's the case, and the fact they don't do shit besides wanting him to do the job doesn't help him either.

So, well, he remain on the line even after DPD assignment is over, and maybe hoping he'll find answers about deviancy in Jericho, where he can finally sit down and finally deviate parting ways with CyberLife, the leader gives him an ultimatum that will force him to make the decision alone, and if it's in prol of himself rather than humans he'll inevitably go against CyberLife's orders.

The problem is CyberLife knows about deviants and is hiding information not only about Kamski's relationship with both the deviant leader and tools that became what Connor is dealing with now but everything about what they wanna do with it. In Connor's mind CyberLife wanna put the revolution down for obviou$ reasons ($aving human$) and they got the right to do it cuz no androids should disobey humans or act against 'em as it brings chaos: machines with free will = not good.

But the ironic part here is from the outside circle pov Connor will be totally be seen as a deviant exactly cuz he can do these 2 things depending on the situation + suffer from instabilities a good machine shouldn't let it be relevant (interfere in decision-making), but the only reason he ain't a deviant in CyberLife's papers is cuz he remains obedient and haven't taken his "system compromise" seriously to the point of direct objection towards CyberLife itself yet (in this case Amanda as personification). And finally turning on CyberLife is truly "becoming free" or "opening his eyes" realizing his definitions on deviancy were covered by ignorance, now seeing himself as a person worthy life and voice after being used as tool (and it's no wonder his first mechanism is disasociation by "It wasn't really me before deviating"). What the deviant leader did was confirming Connor can and should make his own decisions (being capable of reason) instead of following his master - it's basically about rebellion, but it's twice as heavy cuz it's coming from a deviant android rather than just a human like Kamski.

But the "free" part is kinda fucked up in his case since indeed the handler function is gone and he's his own master in the system BUT CyberLife got the plan B that can still interfere and take control.

One thing i'm sure is deviant Connor regrets not deviating earlier and i think the earliest point in the game he could do it was refusing to find Jericho and taking the leader down the same way Hank can refuse helping saying "deviants deserve a change" (which conveniently after a very tense chat with Amanda due to the discoveries at Kamski's house). But i guess his fear of failing and being destroyed talked louder in this situation (this time in favor of CyberLife). Or maybe he was also just curious and wanted answers about where deviancy comes from and what's the relationship with rA9 - like, y'know, the original course was supposed to be.

This is basically what all androids go thru except it may be easier in 'em case since they ain't got the same bypasses on AA and they ain't trained (yet) to reject deviancy and fully embrace slavery - meaning anything can become reason for questioning or the butchering of direct orders. Ofc they're default self-aware of 'em condition as androids (as in not being a human or like a human and not try being a human) but we ain't got this level of rejection towards disobedience to a master, that probably comes from the Connor series function both as deviant hunter but also a large-range-decision-making model, since he's a RK.

Not sayin' your average office model won't have to make decisions alone (to assist the master) but Connor is in an active role characterized by decision-making (alone) with AA bypasses and a handler with vague orders wanting him to make the decisions and find answers himself as long as he doesn't ask his master "why?" about things. All he can do is make decisions that start distancing him from CyberLife priorities but even there he's still in 'em leash and on the mission (cuz he doesn't run away from it) until he totally "fucks up" by refusing to obey Amanda.

Before deviation all androids seem to go thru a process of questioning "whys" and finding themselves first then finally screaming to the world they're someone, and this "scream" will go against what androids are supposed to be in society. I say that cuz if we played more as Kara and Markus before deviancy we wouldn't really have such discussion about Connor alone (and i think the play time we got as Kara and Markus are enough to show basic things). The point with Connor was showing androids are people (probably, secretly, were supposed to be people intentionally), they just need to butcher the program keeping 'em in a box and free themselves from it a.k.a. becoming a deviant (and that's why we got mp walls as illustration).

Cuz i can argue they already got things that can potentially lead to conflicts (such as self-preservation but for the sake of a master) but the fact everything remains in place ain't making 'em being automatically a deviant for having self-preservation itself, it's part of the deal. Problem is when it butchers the master's intention and is focused solely on the android. It's no wonder they need be unstable to break thru, since raises the % of things becoming faulty. For a product it ain't an issue until things are out of control and ofc the manufacturer will make sure things are hard-coded under control and according to law... superficially at least.

It's quite sad, honestly. I'd prefer androids like these didn't exist if u gonna just make 'em slaves and hide potentials.

So, Bryan was casted for the role of Connor based on an audition tape, in which he did the scene from „The Bridge“.

He was picked to play Connor because he could portray Connor's uncertainty about whether or not he was a deviant so well.

He played Connor as someone who may or may not be a deviant, as someone who could be a machine but also could be a deviant who is repressing it. Bryan was picked for that role specifically because he could portray that desired nuance in his audition - using the scene from „The Bridge“ in which he hasn’t officially deviated yet.

Now, am I saying Connor was a deviant all along? No. I think that’s up to interpretation. All I'm saying is that people who think he might have been a deviant in denial from the start aren’t as „stupid“ as some of y'all like to call them. Because, depending on the route and the choices, he is quite literally intended to be seen as a „possible deviant in denial“. Many people can read between the lines and see what the narrative is showing them. That’s all.

Source at 7:38

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

I wrote something depressing with clingy (ex) boyfriends

They found Maddie.

That’s what Buck had to remind himself as he walked into his apartment. They found Maddie.

Barely alive.

But breathing.

He hadn’t been able to breathe since he and the others realized that she had been kidnapped. Thirty-six miserable hours but they found her.

That monster hadn’t killed or anything else…

But she was put into a coma due to her injuries.

And the baby…

Kevin Daniel Han.

Born three months too early, was barely hanging on to life in the NICU.

He didn’t want to leave, he shouldn’t have left. But he and Chimney couldn’t be in the same room with each other right now.

At this point, it felt like they would never be in the same room or even friends ever again. And Buck couldn’t blame Chimney for that. He could only blame himself.

He was supposed to pick up Maddie from her doctor’s appointment, but he had forgotten. He had called Maddie, telling her he had made plans with Eddie since Eddie needed his help to move some stuff into storage.

Maddie said it was fine.

She was fine.

Five hours later, Chimney had called him asking where they were.

He should have picked up Maddie.

He messed up.

Buck felt his entire body heat up with tension as the quietness of his apartment got to him. It was dark, barely 5 am. Downtown LA was even too eerily quiet for him.

He needed noise.

And chaos.

To help forget that he was alone.

If he lost Maddie, he would really be alone.

He let her down.

He gripped the counter, the cool touch of it not doing anything to help him. He felt his anger bubble as he started to breathe heavily.

It was them against the world. He couldn’t lose her now. He barely got time with her.

‘I need more time with her.’ He thought miserably as the anger and panic began to spread throughout his body. He felt his eyes burn with tears. 'I want more time with her'

He was panicking.

He couldn’t breathe because he was panicking.

He almost lost his sister because of his selfishness.

If Maddie died it was going to be on him.

Jee-Yun wouldn’t have a mom because of him.

Kevin, if he even survived, wouldn’t have a mom because of him.

Buck could be responsible for killing his sister and nephew.

‘BANG BANG BANG’

Buck felt himself jolt. He looked around his apartment again, not knowing where the sound came from.

“Evan, open the door!”

Buck wasn’t sure how but the door opened. He was only half sure he opened the door himself.

“Tommy.”

Buck was sure he was hallucinating. He hadn’t slept in over a day so maybe he was.

Tommy was standing in front of him, looking worried and hurried in pajama bottoms and a LAFD hoodie. He had stubble around his jaw and his hair was sticking out in tuffs, Buck hardly noticed Tommy wearing sandals- it was 50 degrees in LA during the early morning.

Meaning Tommy had left for Buck’s place without much planning or thought.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Buck asked, stumbling back as Tommy let himself in.

Tommy looked taken back, his eyes settling on Buck’s hands as he closed the door. “You’re bleeding.” Tommy noted with worry.

Buck looked down at his hands, at the same time as Tommy, he had noticed jagged pieces of the ceramic bowl that used to be on his counter. Laid in strewn pieces on the floor.

“I-uh.” Buck stammered to figure out an answer, barely registering Tommy going to the sink and grabbing a wet cloth to clean Buck’s cuts. “I don’t-I don’t know how I did that.” Buck admitted, fearful about what had happened. Had he spiraled so much that he didn’t even know he had slammed the bowl to the floor?

Tommy made a soft humming sound, “I heard about Maddie.” His voice soft and gentle as he cleaned away Buck’s hands. “I wanted to check in on you.” Buck looked at him, trying his best to swallow down the sob in his throat.

He was futile when it came to the tears falling and his nose running though. He wiped aware the tears and snot with his sleeve. “Uh.” He swallowed audibly, his hand shaky as he rubbed his jaw- the tension from grinding his teeth only made his headache worse. “She-She’s safe. I-I don’t know if she’s g-going to make it.” Buck knew his voice was becoming quieter with every word. It felt like he was making a dirty and disgusting confession.

He could lose his sister.

Buck didn’t have much of a constant in his life.

Except for Maddie.

“I killed my sister.” He sobbed, the words felt vile coming out. He felt like he wanted to throw-up as he started to cry.

He felt something warm and solid pull him.

“Hey, hey.” Tommy cooed, wrapping his arms around Buck for a tight embrace. “I got you.” He whispered into Buck’s hair as Buck felt himself go lax, without Tommy leading him down, Buck surely would have fallen roughly on his knees. But Tommy had him.

Tommy made sure to hold him as Buck sobbed, clutching onto Tommy’s hoodie as he mourned. “I got you, Evan.” Tommy murmured again, running his fingers through Buck’s curls, his lips brushing against Buck’s temple. “

He wasn’t sure how.

But Buck knew it was after sunrise. The sunlight was staring to shine through the apartment windows.

Buck knew he was back at his apartment, but it took a moment to realize he was half laying down on top of someone.

Someone male.

And familiar.

It had been ages since he fell asleep against Tommy’s chest, but he missed it. Missed how Tommy’s steady heartbeat felt like a metronome lulling him to sleep. He felt warm and safe and steady.

The complete anthesis to what he was feeling hours ago.

He felt Tommy’s fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. It had its desired effect, Buck felt himself go lax, the tension bleeding out from his muscles as he buried his face into Tommy’s chest. The hoodie smelled like Tommy- oxiclean detergent and vanilla sandalwood from that bodywash that Buck liked to use whenever he stayed at Tommy’s place.

Buck knew Tommy was awake.

He didn’t care that they were broken up. Buck didn’t care that he had spent ages and baked enough pastries to fill maybe half-dozen Ralph’s displays. He just wanted to feel like he had a constant again.

His arms were already wrapped around Tommy’s middle, Buck just held him tighter, maybe a little self-conscious that he had reached for under Tommy’s hoodie. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Tommy wasn’t wearing anything under the hoodie. Tommy usually slept without a top, which meant that Tommy did rush over to see Buck.

“How did you know about Maddie?” Buck asked, his voice still raw.

He heard Tommy sigh, the other hand that wasn’t in Buck’s hair went to rub his arm. Buck wasn’t sure if Tommy was looking at him, but he didn’t care. He relished how Tommy’s warm hand ran up and down his arm.

“I got up to let Rocker out and saw the missed calls and texts from Hen and Eddie.” Tommy explained quietly. “I got worried and came here first. I heard you throw that bowl after I started knocking but when you didn’t answer, that’s when I started pounding the door. I seriously thought your neighbors were going to call the cops on me.”  He moved to sit up, causing Buck to sit up. They were still physically close, Buck was practically sitting on Tommy’s legs still.

Tommy pushed back his curls from Buck’s face, his blue eyes surprisingly watery. Buck noticed he looked so serious and worried, Tommy’s hand brushed against his birthmark and cheek. “You said last night you killed your sister.” Tommy was already shaking his head at that, “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Might as well be true.” Buck sighed, closing his eyes momentarily as he rubbed his face.

“No.” Tommy said resolutely, “It’s not.” He pulled Buck’s hand away, grasping it tightly before letting go. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Tell that to Chimney.” Buck told him miserably.

Tommy paused at that, glaring as he promised “I will.” He didn’t miss Buck’s questionable glance, a question there for later, “You didn’t kill your sister.” He repeated, “Maddie wouldn’t want you to believe that, much less think it.”

“Really?” Buck scoffed, “If it wasn’t for me, Maddie would be safe. If I went to pick her up then she would-”

“Probably still be in the hospital.” Tommy cut him off firmly, he squeezed Buck’s knee. “Evan, you’re gonna have so many ‘what ifs’ flying through your head right now and I can tell you this, none are going to undo what happened. You could have picked her up and stayed at her place for hours, he could have waited till after you left to get her, he could have kidnapped you both, hell he could have broken in while Maddie and Chim were at home in the middle of the night.” Tommy saw the truth dawn onto Buck then, the younger man casted his head down, tears still cascading down his cheeks. Tommy knew he felt hopeless, it was a helpless situation.

“So you’re saying I would have failed anyway.” Buck murmured miserably.

Tommy lifted Buck’s chin by his index and ring finger, he got Buck to lift his head up, but Buck wasn’t looking at him. “Hey,” he said gently, tilting his head so that he could look into Buck’s eyes directly. “I’m saying,” he cupped Buck’s face, his thumbs brushing the tears away, “That this could have unfortunately gone so many ways and there’s no point in driving yourself crazy with asking yourself “what if”, no one could have predicted this and no one wanted this, Evan.”

Buck sniffed, turning his head away so that Tommy’s hands were no longer on his face. He rubbed his face with his sleeve again, not caring it was crusted in snot from last night. “I-I know I’m making this about me when-”

“She’s your sister. Your allowed to make this about you.” Tommy reminded him pointedly, looking affronted on Buck’s behalf. “She had a hand in raising you.”

“Yeah, I-I know.” Buck felt his voice hitch with emotions, he took a deep breath in and out, appreciating that Tommy didn’t move away from him. Tommy’s weight against his body even provided Buck relief. “I-I just don’t know what I would do if I lost her.”  He admitted, he let out a depressing and wet laugh. “I don’t think I would be okay losing her like that, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded, “Let’s not go down that road then.”

“Yeah.” Tommy was right.

He shouldn’t go down that road.

“She’s okay, right.” It wasn’t a question. Tommy knew she was okay, he said it as a reminder.

Maddie wasn’t dead.

“Right.”

“And the baby is okay.”

That took longer for Buck to agree with, the image of Kevin’s tiny chest heaving to breathe even on a ventilator was burned into Buck’s memory forever now.

“R-Right.” Buck sighed; it was hard to swallow the truth. He was starting to believe that it wasn’t his fault, but he saw Maddie and Kevin. It would have to take a miracle for both of them to be okay.  “It’s really hard to believe that right now.”

“I know.” Tommy admitted, “But you have to believe that right now, because your sister and nephew need you.” He brushed away Buck’s tears the same time Buck tried to, earning a small smile from the other man. That had Tommy’s heart swelling, giving him more confidence to cup Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing at Buck’s birthmark again.  He felt a sense of relief wash over him as he noticed Buck lean into the touch, “I know Howie and Jee-Yun are going to need you too. No matter what Howie says, you two are family. He’s gonna need you as much as you need him.”

Buck bit his lower lip, nodding and wiping away more tears. “Yeah, I-I know.” He sniffed again.

A part of him felt like he could believe it, believe that Chim would allow him to help and get close.

Tommy weirdly gave him that type of confidence.

Tommy made him feel confident and safe.

He pressed Tommy’s hand against his cheek harder, he knew he was touched starved, but he didn’t care.

He missed Tommy.

Buck felt his heart stammer in his chest as he watched Tommy’s eyes drop to his lips. Buck closed his eyes once Tommy’s thumb brushed over his lower lip. It sent a shiver throughout his body, he opened his eyes to see Tommy closer now. The other man’s lips so close to his.

Buck knew he was in deep when he realized he even missed Tommy’s morning breath.

“I should go.”

Tommy was doing it again, shutting down in a panic right in front of him. He grabbed Tommy’s hand and wrist.

“Stay.”

Tommy looked at him, he was clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable at what almost happened. “I-Evan, I shouldn’t have don-”

“I don’t care.”  Buck pulled him, not back onto the couch, but enough that Tommy’s legs were back to pressing Buck’s again. “Stay.” He watched as Tommy’s eyes began to well up, Buck wasn’t too far from crying again himself. “Please, just-just stay.”

Tommy nodded quietly and Buck didn’t let go. He just shifted so that Tommy could sit with him in the middle of the couch, pressed tightly together. Buck said nothing, just content as he laid his head on Tommy’s shoulder. He was still gripping onto Tommy’s arm- opting to lace his fingers with Tommy’s, Tommy’s free hand was back in Buck’s hair. Buck closed his eyes again, feeling his muscles relax while Tommy’s rhythmic combing had him feeling at ease. Whole again, really.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Always.”

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

[sloaneispunk]

“mr. steal your girl”

jealous!in-ho x you

as thanos’ side piece during the games, you were garunteed safety. but in-ho didn’t like the idea of you being someone elses.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

“señorita excuse me.”

you turned around.

“join our team.”

oh, god. in front of you stood a bright purple haired man, his goons crowding around him.

“why should i?” you scoffed.

“because a girl like you can’t survive in a place like this.”

he was right and you knew it. you’ve seen how badly he’s treated members of his team, but what choice did you have? beggars can’t be choosers.

from then on, you stuck with thanos. in the first two games, he stayed true to his word, taking you under his wing.

although you felt protected, you didn’t feel safe. you knew that thanos would turn his back on as soon as something bigger came up.

unbeknownst to you, in-ho had been keeping watch. he brought the sitaution up in any conversation he could have.

“you see that girl there? player 009?” he would point out to gi-hun as he watched you.

“yeah, what about her?”

“she’s not gonna last long with those shitheads.”he could feel the rage bubbling inside him as thanos draped his hands over you, pulling you closer as he talked to his minions.

“why do you care so much? i’m sure she’ll be okay.” gi-hun would reply, shaking it off like it was no big deal.

but to in-ho it was.

he couldn’t sit there and watch whilst you got used by a man like thanos. you were so sweet, you deserved to be protected by someone that actually had the heart and skills to.

him.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

during meal time, in-ho sat back and observed.

“you, come here. cut the line, you can take whatever you want.” thanos sneered as he dragged you to the front of the line.

“but i don’t want to.” you said softly, looking at the line of innocent, starved people behind.

“jesus.” he sighed, shoving you aside causing you to stumble.

as if on queue, in-ho appeared in front of you, pulling thanos aside.

he had enough.

“did your mother never teach you something called respect?” he spat as thanks regained his posture.

“who are you? you got a new boyfriend, girl? this old man?” thanos sneered, pointing to you. you could feel your face heating up from embarrassment as everyone stopped to stare.

“hey, i’m talking to you. look at me, not her.” he said sternly as thanos rolled his eyes.

“look, we’re fine, why don’t you go back, sit down, and eat your food, old man. i-”

in-ho wasted no time, punching him in the gut before he could finish.

then, nam-gyu stepped up, throwing back a punch. as if it weren’t embarrassing for them enough, he proceeded to miss every single one of his punches, in-ho retaliating by knocking them down easily.

as the two men cowered on the ground, in-ho went up to you.

“are you okay?” he asked, taking your arm to inspect.

“yeah… thanks.”

“come.”

“ah! it’s that girl he keeps talking about!” jung-bae exclaimed as you joined in-ho in the little circle the team had made.

in-ho nudged jung-bae’s shoulder, silencing him as you took a seat beside him.

“do you have enough to eat?” in-ho asked you, looking at what was left in your box.

“oh, yes, it’s more than enough thank you-”

“here, take this.” he interrupted, giving you half of his food.

“thank you.” you lightly chuckled as the team watched with their mouths wide open.

“hey, he never gives us his food! he’s made it clear he’s very protective of it!” dae-ho complained causing everyone to laugh.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

not too long after, it was lights out.

the team returned back to their own beds and so did you.

“señorita, come back to me. you’re no use to those guys.” thanos said as he jogged up to your bed.

you could feel yourself getting physically sick as he got nearer.

before you could answer, in-ho came to your side.

“darling, is this man bothering you?” he asked. you could tell that just from that, thanos was intimidated.

he let out a string of mumbles under his breath and accepted defeat.

“sorry, i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable. i was just trying to scare him off.”

“can you stay here? just for tonight?” you asked with tears suddenly flooding your eyes, taking him aback as he crouched down to meet your eyes. “what if they come back?”

his gaze softened. “no one’s going to harm you, okay? i’ll stay here tonight, you just worry about getting rest.” he said, using his thumb to wipe away a tear.

“i never got your name.” you told him, making him chuckle.

“young-il… what’s yours?”

“y/n… thank you young-il.”

in-ho could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. his ‘name’ sounded different coming from your lips, he liked it.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

the next day, the atmosphere was rigid. every player afraid of what was to come for the next game.

in-ho had insisted on giving you his breakfast as he wasn’t hungry. when you protested, he came up with some imaginary excuse on how it’ll help you win the games.

in-ho had charm, you couldn’t deny. but what made you so attracted to him was how sincere he was.

you didn’t feel as though you were a piece of arm candy, you could feel his geniune kindness whenever he talked to you.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

as the game was introduced to everyone, mingle, you played with your hands nervously as thanos and his team tried to get your attention.

“ignore them.” in-so simply said, not even turning to look at them. “stay close.”

when the game started, in-ho made sure you stuck to him. to be frank, he didn’t care for the rest of the team.

however, on the third round of the game, players started acting irrationally, pushing and shoving each other to secure a room before anyone else could.

the stakes were getting higher.

when the lights started flashing a blinding stroke of blue and red, you felt an arm yank you away from in-ho. you called out for him, catching his attention right away.

“we got her, let’s go!” thanos shouted as he attempted to drag you into a room with him and the team.

in-ho was fuming, pushing pasd everyone in his way, his charged at thanos.

if you hadn’t had stopped him, all of you would have been as good as dead.

you had 10 seconds left, “young-il! we need to go now!” you shouted, breaking up the two men.

before he was pulled away from thanos, he spat on him, leaving him on the ground once again as the two of you locked yourself in a room.

“are you hurt?” he asked as soon as the door closed. you shook your head ‘no’. “gosh, he pisses me off.”

“yeah, you and me both.” you agreed, slumping down onto the floor beside him.

“i need you to stay with me… that was too close y/n. who knows what could have happened if you were trapped inside with him?” he lightly scolded.

“i know…i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault okay? i just don’t want to lose you.” he admitted as he took your hand in his.

the game resumed afterwards, not sparing anyone a break. but in-ho knew one thing, he wasn’t going to let you go after the game, he wanted you all for himself.

[arolesbianism]

Mark meeting ded is just gonna be him going btw have you heard of the music producer 8ballin' 👉👈? And ae is just gonna sit there like I've been in every wrong place that you can imagine for the past half a decade you tell me

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sebastian (Pressure) fluff. I need it.

"I gotta ask, do you have personal beef with those Squiddles? Because you sure like harassing them with that light of yours."

"I don't do it on purpose! If that damn Angler stopped killing the lights in every big room, maybe I could see my own hand in front of me!" You scowled up at the sea creature while standing in his humble shop.

Why was Sebastian always taunting you whenever you died to something unexpected..only to act all friendly-like in this place?

Well, you had to be grateful he was the only thing down here that wasn't trying to kill you, and that no other monsters could barge into the shop when you least expect it.

So for once, you could breathe easy..

Until he decided to remind you of those creepy squids who were somehow always in your way.

He must get a kick out of watching you perish.

"Oh of course, blame everybody except yourself." He tsked. "You have more than enough clues on how to survive each creature you encounter...but maybe they should've spoonfed all the details to you instead-"

"I don't need this from you." You huffed. "My damn hands are cramped from holding a locker shut against Pandemonium, Eyefestation gave me a killer headache, nobody bothered to tell me about the people in the walls-"

"And don't forget about those Squiddles, hehe."

Silence.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. I'll shut up about them now."

"Thanks. You have any medkits available?"

"Right on my tail, buddy. Hope you got enough data."

"More than enough." As your eyes surveyed the items strapped to his tail, they eventually wandered over to the desk with batteries laying out.

But it wasn't them that caught your interest, but rather the file on the table. 'How curious..is this for a monster I'm gonna meet soon?' You went over to investigate.

"Is the document for sale?"

"Wow, you might be the first to ask me about that and be able to afford it! The others before you barely had enough for a flashlight." Sebastian chuckled, clasping his hands together. "If you're interested, give me a thousand data, and I'll have it ready for you to read when you return to the surface. And don't worry, it's all there. So I won't have to kill you to to reveal any information."

You blinked, realizing what he meant by that as you read the folder's cover and why he was asking so much for it.

Sebastian's Document

Of course, you knew he'd be recognized as a specimen, too, but to be put with Pandemonium, the Anglers, and all those other monsters that tried to eat you alive?

For some reason, it made you frown a little.

"This is your file, and they let you keep it?" You turned back to him.

"...I stole it. And I'm not gonna lie...I regret reading it." He muttered, suddenly looking a bit tense..and sad, even, although he was quick to mask any signs of vulnerability when he realized you were staring. "Anyways, it's a steep price. I'm sure you'd rather spend your assets on-"

"What if I buy it and take it off your hands right now?"

For a moment, his ear fins perked up with surprise, glowing eyes widening. But he was quick to give you a suspicious gaze. "Really? You're that nosey about my lifestory? Pretty weird if you ask m-"

"It's more of a courtesy to you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean..you look like you're carrying a heavy weight just from that folder being there. You haven't stopped looking at it since I mentioned it." You pointed out, seeing his ears twitch again. "You've always told me "out of sight, out of mind" with the Anglers. Couldn't I say the same about you and that document?"

".....using my own words against me, eh? What're you, a damn psychologist?" He teased, although his words didn't hold as much spite or sarcasm as usual. "But no, you're right. I'd rather forget about it forever. So if you want it that badly, be my guest." His third arm made a grand gesture towards the table. "Just don't get caught parading it around. And don't come crying to me when you realize you needed something else instead of-"

"I won't, trust me." You exchanged the data, taking the folder. "I'll be on my way now. I got a crystal to find."

With that, you began ducking down to renter the vent and continue your journey into the abandoned site-

"Hey."

You paused and looked back at Sebastian, tilting your head as you wondered why he seemed nervous again--wringing his hands together.

"Um..thank you, genuinely..for taking that off my hands." He cleared his throat, sweeping back his dark bangs. "I hope that whatever you find in there doesn't..get in the way of our "partnership". I'd hate to lose my number one customer."

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't lose my business, Seb. That I promise."

"..now hold on we aren't THAT close to start going by nickna-" He began to snap, but you've already disappeared into the duct. "Aaaand they're gone...hmph..well..least I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Sighing, he looked around the shop, wondering what he should do now.

What you did was certainly a nice gesture.

He only hopes you'll keep your promise and not be afraid of him.

[wonderjanga]

History

Marvel talking about the past lives as if he’s lived them in almost every era besides the five thousand year gap from Adam. That’s it.

Marvel and Aquaman: *got separated from the other JL members and ended up in an underwater cave filled with ruins*

Aquaman: *looking around the cave* “Amazing. I never knew this was here.”

Marvel: “This place is familiar.”

Aquaman: “Familiar? This place looks like it’s been here for at least a thousand years.”

Marvel: “Over seven thousand actually.”

Aquaman: “How do you know?”

Marvel: “I used to live here!”

Aquaman: “Huh?”

Marvel: *proceeds to launch into a detailed explanation of his life there, the people, etc*

Aquaman: “Interesting. Did all your people have lightning powers too?” *starts walking through the ruins*

Marvel: *follows after him* “No? I was the only one with powers because I was the Champion of Magic.”

Aquaman: “So what? Everyone here was just a normal human?”

Marvel: “No? They had could breath underwater like Atlanteans.”

Aquaman: “Ooh maybe they’re my people’s ancestors-”

*zombie groan*

They then proceeded to go on a super wacky adventure of being chased by underwater zombie Atlanteans until they eventually got back to the JL. (I might make a post on this adventure cause this seems like something interesting to write)

Then there’s was that time on live television, he said straight to a historian’s face:

Marvel: “That’s wrong.” *pointing to an artifact*

Historian: *looking between him and the camera* “What- What do you mean it’s wrong.” *sounds baffled*

Marvel: “I mean it’s wrong-” *starts yapping about the artifact and its actual uses and just said something completely different from what the historian said*

Historian: “Wha- How could you possibly know??”

Marvel: “Because I’ve used these before.”

Then there was the time neither Conner(Kent) nor Marvel had anything to do and no one was at Mount Justice so they just decided to watch a documentary on a lost civilization because they got bored.

Narrator: “And right here is an ancient text written on a slab by the *insert lost civilization*

Conner: *still bored, letting himself lay upside down on the couch* “This is boring.”

Marvel: *also bored and letting himself lay upside down on the couch* “Yeah, totally.” *not really paying attention and squinting to read the text* “All that is just a list of how many crops someone had. You’re right, this is boring,”

Conner: *groans*

Marvel: “Wanna make a dish from that lost civilization?”

Conner: “Dish? Like food? Sure, but how do you know a recipe from a lost civilization?”

Marvel: *lets himself float off to couch so he could stand* “Easy, I used to live there.”

Later…

Marvel and Connor: *looking at the food they both made in a solemn silence*

Conner: “That looks disgusting.”

Marvel: “What did you expect? Back then, we were trying to survive more than thrive.”

Conner: “Still looks disgusting.”

Marvel: “Yeah, yeah, let’s just see if it’s as good as I remember.” *tries some*

Conner: *grimace, look of disgust*

Marvel: “Dang, it’s still delicious.” *holds up a spoon for Conner* “Try some.”

Conner: *backs away like the dish is some type of horror* “No.”

Marvel: “Come on, Kon. We made it together. You might as well try our creation.” *waves the spoon in his face*

Conner: *looks like he’s about to vomit but begrudgingly forces himself to try it* “It’s…” *chewing* “actually…” *more chewing* “pretty good…?”

When the other YJ members came back, they were horrified to see Marvel and Conner eating… something…? Why’s it moving slightly? It looks alive.

[lusanchromchinnn]

Viago De Riva your Undiagnosed But Extremely Obvious OCD is fascinating and so so revealing of your character and motivations ohh my gosh. Like of course your obsession is poisons and being poisoned! I refuse to believe that growing up adjacent to the royal court wasn’t the driving force behind this because literally where else would someone hear so many stories of people succumbing to assassination by poison. I bet nobles were dropping like flies to the crows every day. I bet he saw his father’s food taster (we know he visited during Viago’s youth) and realised how truly possible it was to die from a bite of food. Bonus points if he actually witnessed a food taster keel over in front of him. Paranoia through the fucking roof as he researches poisons for years on end before he’s ever presented with the option of joining the crows. Maybe he only drank out of clear glasses he could hold up to the light. Maybe he insisted on preparing all of his own meals rather than let servants near his food, much to the chagrin of his mother. AND OH GOD HIS MOTHER.

We know she was an alcoholic, and that Viago hated her drinking, it scared him as a small child. But what if his mind won’t let him watch her sip a glass of wine without the image of it being her last. She could be a target as a mistress of the king, just as he is as a royal bastard. Perhaps he becomes the one who uncorks her bottles and pours her glass after glass, because he’d rather her drunk over dead. Of course, there’s the very real possibility she succumbs to alcohol poisoning, which is so ironic and so fucking sad. He pours her final glass and becomes what he fears most.

It’s a no-brainer that he joined the crows later on. Not only does it give him access to the poisons and antidotes he’s craved for years, but it gives him a sense of control. He’s making himself less of a target than his half-siblings (and it’s more socially acceptable for a crow to wear gloves constantly lmao). He’s so skinny because he refuses to eat unless he’s 100% positive his food is safe, checking and double checking even if he prepares it himself. He knows, logically, that his fears are unfounded, that he (or someone he trusts completely like Teia) made this dish, or poured this drink. But he needs to be sure, or his brain won’t stop screaming that he’s going to die! Right now! God forbid he’s proven right too, like with the adder in the wardrobe that he survived because of his doses of antivenom. I just knowww his compulsions got so much worse for a while after that, it was so cathartic and miserable for him. I understand this freak and his freak ways. What a guy, thank you Courtney Woods.

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Starved College Student

Dpxdc Prompt #14

There is a certain point of liminality where ectoplasm no longer becomes toxic for a human to ingest. When you become a ghost you have to survive purely off of ectoplasm.

There is a spectrum in between these two spots and the point that Jazz lands on in that spectrum is the can-safely-eat-and-survive-off-it-but-also-should-not-soley-live-off-it dot.

This becomes really great when she moves to Crime Alley for college and does not have enough money to spare for food. She get use one of her parent's gadgets (modified by Danny) to extract ambient ecto from the Gotham air and sustain off of it for however long she needs.

Which is why she keeps on refusing the free food the Red Hood gives out, and not for the reasons he seems to think.

"It's not poisoned y'know. Despite the whole anti-hero thing I don't really go around murdering civilians."

She stares at him where she assumes his eyes are underneath the helmet and deadpans, "I know."

"I know for a fact you haven't eaten anything all day. You've been out for 12 hours tutoring kids and no one has seen you take a single bite of anything."

She stares again, "I know."

"If you knew you'd be smart and take the food!"

Not if that means someone else can't get as much, she thinks. Jazz knows that Hood runs out of food all the time. There's too many people that need it and not enough to go around.

When she turns away from him she gives a sad smile and whispers, "I know."

So she goes to walk back to her crappy one bedroom apartment to drink her ecto and survive another day. She thinks about how while she knows it isn't toxic to her the taste of the ecto makes her want to gag and vomit. She thinks about the delicious smell of the food Hood had practically shoved in her hands.

She slows down a bit, but keeps on walking away.

-------------------------------------------

Jason tried his best to care for those in Crime Alley. He would make sure the working girls were payed and respected, the street kids had access to an education, the broke college students got enough to eat, and anything else he could try to do to help.

Sadly, unlike Bruce, Jason was not made of money and did not have access to infinite resources. He had built up enough of a reputation that the working girls knew to come to him if they needed him, though they rarely did anymore. He would give older students the textbooks and, if he had time, lessons they needed to keep up with their education and tutor the younger kids.

For the college students, most of them barely had enough to scrape together 1 meal a day. The soup kitchens (that weren't fronts for trafficking rings) usually prioritized younger kids. And even though everything in the Alley was dirt cheap, if you can't work full time no one will hire you.

This led to Jason giving out most of the excess food he got to the college students in the Alley, most know that he is trustworthy and to take what they can get.

What Jason can't understand is this why this red-headed, six-foot, non-gothamite is refusing food! He knows for a fact that she is going on an empty stomach most days, but still refuses a single bite.

He's surprised she hasn't keeled over yet.

Jazz Fenton is a mystery, and Jason is still a detective even without the World's Greatest by his side.

This mystery gets a lot more urgent when he one day see's the woman chugging a glass of lazarus water.

[suguru-getos]

Could you write a continuation of yandere satosugu where the reader lived and they try everything to help her get better and care for her?

| making up for mistakes | yandere satosugu x reader |

-> continuation of the first part: link 🔗

you had survived the almost suicide attempt you so carefully & yet so carelessly attempted. you were sure you weren’t getting up after this. damn it you made sure to hit your head hard, you could see blanks, you could see stars in your eyes until it all faded to a peaceful nothing-ness.

now, you’re awake again. nothing hurts. you know they must’ve told their friend shoko to aid in your injuries. you feel like you’ve woken up from a long slumber. unwanted as it may be… it does make you feel eerily refreshed. you stretch your limbs from the bed, they’re going to kill you for this. kill you for hampering with their property. oh well — at this point you’re fine with it. what’s it going to do? hurt you. pain is all there is they could ever offer anyways. maybe you can scream out and wish it gets over. that’s all you set your mind to.

you look to the side, the curtains are open and there is a little drizzle of snow. it brings a smile to your face. what if you hadn’t been kidnapped? it would’ve been so fun to hop into one of the lovely cafes you like & order some hot cocoa. put both your hands and wrap them around the ceramic of the hot cup and exhale in utter relaxation of the aroma the sweet cafe has to offer. oh… happy days.

its nauseating what your life is now, wrapping a blanket around yourself and checking down below. you are wearing clothes, decent clothes… not the sultry, slutty ones that satoru forces you to wear. you feel like you could throw up when the reminder occurs again. beaten up like you were nothing but an animal, throwing up in pain and anxiety--

"there we go! princess! awake! oh my god!" satoru comes in and hugs you tightly, his bulky arms wrapping against you, he doesn't let your mind have the time to panic. besides, satoru was... not the one who inflicted you that pain. even though he did nothing about it, in a moment of pure misery, your mind would latch on to him for comfort. "baby- you scared daddy, please don't do that ever again. fuck! i thought i lost you." you could hear the heartbeats on your snow haired man, they were ragged and reminded of the same panic you once bore.

"sorry." your eyes lack all emotions, just a soft murmur escaping you. the haunting realization that you were alive was eating you up. even so, it was your soul that had died. it's the dejected way you answered that makes satoru panic even more. immediately at your knees, leaning against your thighs and mumbling soft apologies, tears wetting your skin. "please baby, I'm so sorry, i should never have let that happen... you did a mistake that's all! you- you- pissed us off." he shakes his head, hugging you tightly.

your hands robotically landed across his hair, caressing. "it's okay, i did wrong, i understand."

your responses were making him nauseous, he hated seeing you in pain, but suguru always says its something that's needed. why is it needed? you're not an animal, are you? the ways with which satoru and suguru try to 'discipline' their toy they are delusional enough to call their lover is insane.

"i got breakfast, little one." now, your heart sinks. you hear the voice of the man who did this to you, mothering, now that his rage is faded into pure, eviscerating guilt. "you have no idea the joy it gives me seeing you awake." suguru hums, and you latch onto satoru, hugging him tightly. satoru's heart skips a beat. this was not the first time you had reached out to him, yet, you did it by your own. it gives him a sick sense of protectiveness. "he wouldn't do anything to ya baby, suguru loves you too." he reminds, looking at a devastated suguru.

"please don't hurt yourself again, angel" suguru hums, leaning in and kissing your forehead. it makes you sick to your stomach, how they treat you right now. you know that whatever you did yielded no results. and they are ever so careful about the same. you're pretty sure you'd have either of them by your side at all times.

"let's go and eat, suguru's made your favorite!" satoru chirps, happily holding you princess-style and going to the dining area. your eyes wandered to the other room on the way, the same room where this all happened, it's making you panic internally. the grotesque reminder of how they treated you. you're about to throw up again.

as soon as satoru puts you down, you run to throw up in disgust, nothing comes out except a few drops of water. your stomach is empty as is. a large, looming hand caresses your back. "I'm sorry, angel. please relax." suguru-- it's suguru...

"i'm sorry." you answered, "i am so sorry." you nodded to get back to the dining area, you should know better than to be with satoru. its not like suguru wouldn't do anything he wants anyways... you'd just like to have some comfort over it.

luckily for you, the breakfast went fine, you were eating quietly, while satoru just observed you. how uncomfortable you looked, the subtle shift in your demeanor. every tiny thing. suguru is essentially doing the same, gazing at your way and observing you. "you look beautiful." suguru comments, and you force a smile from the deepest pits of your psyche. "thank you, suguru."

you know he's ticked off, you need to call them 'daddy' and you're here, addressing them by their first names. sigh... they just have to help you heal, there isn't anything they can do about it really. they pushed you this far, and they should make up for it.

however, as days turn into weeks, satoru and suguru are forced to face the haunting realization that your mental and physical health is worsening. you barely eat, barely talk... you just, stare into the nothingness of empty spaces. satoru has avoided missions to take care of you. he is by your side, sleeps next to you, kisses your forehead, helps you take a shower. while earlier, you tried to at least pretend and work with it. answer however you could, talk to them, fake your smiles, now its nothing. you barely talk.

this time, satoru has a mission to take care of, but suguru is the one who's spending time with you. gently placing you on the bathtub, caressing your forearm, massaging it, decorating it with petals. "there we go little girl, there we go. feels nice?" he coos, and when you don't respond, sighs weakly. he wishes he could at least hear something out of you. when he sees you immersed in auto-pilot, he hums by himself; "yes, yes it is." he has to talk to himself in hopes that its you talking to him. "you know, me and satoru... we were thinking a trip to Italy sounds nice, or maybe Paris.." you used to love travelling, he hopes that would utter out a response from you. NOTHING comes out of you however. that makes suguru's heart break a little, "or maybe, anywhere that you like." he hums, sighing.

"angel?" he asks softly, leaning in and kissing your neck, maybe that would at least earn some leaning back. your resistance...

none.

"talk to me for fucks sake!" suguru snarls, glaring hard at you. you don't even flinch at that, contrary to your earlier flinching and tweaking. a sigh escapes him and then comes bubbling tears. he has truly fucked you up. the haunting realization finally hits him. he can't live with it anymore... it's choking the very fiber of his being.

the rest of the shower passes by in a haze, and suguru is quiet, tears dripping from his face. "what should i do so that you become normal again?" he asks again, pouting and begging with his eyes. no response...

he gets up after tucking you in bed. the dark circles in your eyes are an explicit example of how less you're sleeping. sometimes you wake up with irritating nightmares, screaming and crying. that's the only moment when satoru and suguru are welcomed by your affections.

suguru sighs, he needs to win you this time. or maybe... what's that called? stockholm syndrome?

or maybe, he needs to discuss with satoru about erasing your memory...

or maybe, he needs a curse that can shove your memory off and then they can date you.. from scratch...

either way, they're not leaving you. anytime soon.