#this is me putting this here because i am still unsure whom i should talk to about this in real life

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

I am thinking about MTYL, and where they took the narrative of pain and boundaries, and mine and people’s reactions on here about it and what I feel bubbling up to surface regions in my own life right now.

This might not be an objective meta, and more a personal rambling, without much structure and possibly no resolving matters, but maybe that’s part of the choice of narrative, mine and theirs.

There was this part in an actor interview where Andy said something along the lines, that sometimes pain - like grief, maybe guilt -  cannot be resolved, but you grow up alongside it, around it, carrying it always. Or that is what I heard, made of the translations. What spoke to me. There’s working to grow out of some issues and some sorts of pain, but ‘getting over it’ cannot be applied to every sort of pain, and the difference is crucial to our understanding of life and healing.

And I think maybe this show had a way of implementing both, they showed healthy ways to work through issues, had ways to show what healthy boundaries and relationships, and steps toward healing as in dealing with pain can look like.

But. Maybe they also showed the limits to this, in a very life-like experience shown? How through our connections to people, the connections we choose, some pain -along with love- will always be there to be carried, not resolved, because at times it is not ours to resolve, but still we carry it, too. A burden shared, even if that might not even lessen the weight.

I mean it is a choice of narrative, and i feel like the message was at times, look how it is done healthily and look what growth looks like, but i feel like another message was also, that when it comes to poeple and life, there’s these theories and ideals to strive for, but there is also the limits of it. Because of other people and their pain, and relationships and how we are not islands and that shapes our decisions, too?

It’s in JIEJIE’s storyline with her brother, how you cannot save someone that is not ready to be saved. But also in Xun-An’s arc to sacrifice part of his own health to pacify his father, a connection he decides to keep even at the cost of pain, to keep him in their lives.  And it’s also in how he takes on that decision and the pain of it all by himself, but Bai Lang stll feels it through their connection, unable to resolve it for Xun-An as well, but enduring.

Choices that fail to set a ‘healthy’ boundary in a way that feels needed are valid decisions, too, ones that make up life just as much, whether that should be the case or not.

I get how we seek catharsis through characters, and we want to see them achieve what we in our peronal lives struggle to do, or worked very hard to achieve ourselves; we do not want to feel set back by what we are shown by them on screen.

Maybe it is bad writing or a wrong narrative choice, but if i try to see it as a conscious narrative choice by the makers, then it for me holds the message about the limitations we might face to the work we put in for our healing, as in there will always be sacrifices to that ideal of healthy and right we will make, because of our choices about the connections we decide to keep as part of our lives. And that shapes life and makes it, too.

They could have spent more time on showing the working through it as they did with other issues, but maybe it was not there to be something to be completely resolved by the narrative? Or that was even the point being made by it?

Maybe i am trying to make it work somehow, lol, but if I use that trust I gave the show, and try to hear what they might have wanted to tell me, it could have been this. I hear this. When it comes to life both kinds of decisions shape ours, the ones striving for personal betterment, and also the ones that seem to sacrifice that path in some way and cost us. We navigate our happiness through both.

And as for thoughts on pain?

I am lingering on the thought presented, that some pain we will never heal from, in the sense that it is resolved, that tension we feel will be relieved. That our only option is to grow around and alongside it.

Some pain might not be better for being shared, might not be halfed by it, but actually doubled, because it cannot be dissolved for the other party by us, if at all.

We share pain of others without having the tools to resolve it. It comes with human connections and empathy. Connections we won’t cut even despite that pain, so we live with it. As adults, these are valid decisions, when consciously made.

How do boundaries in that context look like? Maybe they are the individual, personal decisions, each time anew, how to deal with the pain we are presented with?  What to share, with whom, what to speak of, what to make a topic, what to work on resolving, what to keep to ourselves, what to endure, live with and around.

I am trying to give myself steps to tread on here, not expecting absolute answers, and that last part is more personal than that it might have to do with MTYL, but I am so happy for that show, to have given me some new words to speak around all of this.

If you have thoughts to share on this, I am happy to hear them <3

[adorethedistance]

All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)

JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)

Words: 2757

Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.

A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day

My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.

“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.

11:26.

“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,

“Mmmmm, what?”

“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”

The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.

“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.

In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.

“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”

“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.

“What happened this time?”

“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”

“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.

“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.

“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.

“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.

“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.

“How did that get in there?”

“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”

“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”

“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”

“I am forever indebted to you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”

“God, you’re right.”

“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”

“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”

“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.

“Better him than me.”

“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”

“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”

“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”

“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”

“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”

Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.

“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,

“No.”

“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”

“Well, I don’t know I-”

“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.

“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.

“Yeah, I’m fine just-”

“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.

“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.

“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”

“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.

The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.

“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.

“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.

“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.

The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”

After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.

“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”

“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”

“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.

The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.

Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.

“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”

“What? We only used three.”

“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”

“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.

Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.

“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.

“Charlie.”

“I’m close. Where do you want-”

“Just stay inside.”

“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.

“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”

***

A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)

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[recurring-polynya]

For Stuff For Renji's Birthday Prompts: 1) time travel turn back the clock nonsense, bc I'm an enabler and Karakura teens plus shithead Renruki teens has *Byakuya voice* strong comedic potential OR 2) Hisana lives but due to wacky circumstances, nobody notices Rukia's existence at the Academy... until they've graduated and Renruki have joined Squad 11. Dealer's choice! (Honestly whichever you pick, I might try writing the one you don't. I am not a writer these 2 just live in my head rent free)

Why would you make me choose between these, whyyyyyyyyyy?

To be honest, I almost did them both, but this was the second one I did, and I figured that I should probably do some other people’s prompts, and then I ran out of time. I might do you some time travel shenanigans later. (This should in no way stop you from writing these, I would flip my chips if you wrote something, let alone something based on my horrible ideas)

In any case, I couldn’t resist the second options and I have spun it out into a delightful bit of Byakuya-torture. Please enjoy!!!

Special thanks to @kaicko for helping me come up with the clerical error, because you all know me, I can’t just say “a clerical error.” 😂

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀   💀   💀  

“How is the tea?” Aizen Sousuke asked smoothly.

The tea was excellent, but Byakuya wasn’t in the mood for Aizen’s needy attempts to ingratiate himself. “Adequate,” he replied dryly. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

“Ah, diligent as always, Byakuya,” Aizen sighed, “always eager to get back to work. I’ll get to the point: I happened to speak with your wife recently at a fundraising event. She’s very interested in the people of the deep Rukon, and said she travels to South Rukongai frequently.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “What is your point?”

“Well, I thought it was a bit of a strange occupation for a woman of your wife’s noble standing, but then Gin reminded me that she was actually from there herself, that there had been a bit of a to-do when you two married. I don’t tend to follow gossip myself--”

“I repeat, what is your point?” Byakuya gritted your teeth.

Aizen made a pissy little throat clearing noise and fiddled with a folder on his desk. “The fact is, Byakuya, your wife reminds me a great deal of a young woman who served in my squad a few years ago, whom I recalled also hailing from the Rukon. I wondered if there might be a.... connection.”

Byakuya’s shoulders stiffened. Impossible. He had put watches on all immigrants to the Seireitei. He would have reviewed anyone who came from the South 78th.

“Inuzuri Rukia,” Aizen read from his file, and Byakuya’s blood ran cold. “Shin’ou class of 2066. Unseated. Petite, like your wife. Dark hair. Very striking eyes. Unfortunately, an unremarkable shinigami. Potential for a good kidou user, but didn’t take direction well. More interested in sword combat, although she had little aptitude for it. Ah, here it is. Hometown: District 48, South Rukongai.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Byakuya said flatly. “Inuzuri is the 78th district of South Rukongai. Why would she carry a surname from a different district?”

Aizen made an exaggerated frown. “Very strange! A clerical error perhaps? Hold on a moment.” He stuck his head out of his office door and said something to the shinigami on reception duty. “Fortunately, there’s an easy way to clear this up. It’ll just be a minute.”

Byakuya gripped his teacup, unsure of how to feel. A clerical error. Class of 2066… she would have enrolled in 2060, in the middle of Hisana’s worst turn, when she had been bedridden for nearly four years. Their attention would have lapsed. It made sense.

“She does not sound like your usual recruit,” Byakuya accused. Aizen was constantly finding ways to skim the highest performers from the Academy, all the gifted children.

Aizen looked sheepish. “Ah, well, you see, there was a young man of some talent that I was eager to recruit who was… attached to her. I thought she might have some potential if properly guided, but it never panned out.”

Aizen’s good deed was suddenly beginning to make sense. The girl had transferred out and taken Aizen’s prize with her. He wanted Byakuya to go fetch her away in hopes that the talented one would come home. Byakuya actually felt much better now that he’d identified Aizen’s ulterior motive, and further, that it had more to do with his own petty recruiting schemes than Byakuya’s family (specifically, Byakuya’s wife).

There was a knock at the office door, and upon being bid entry, a young woman walked in. Although indeed petite and dark-haired, she looked nothing like Hisana, and Byakuya remarked as much.

“Oh, no, this is my Seventh Seat!” Aizen chuckled. “Miss Hinamori, you were friends with Inuzuri Rukia, isn’t that correct?”

The young woman’s eyes had gone wide when she recognized Byakuya. “Er, yes, sir,” she said, her eyes darting between the two captains. “We shared a room while she served here.”

“Do you happen to remember what district she was from?” Aizen asked in an overly friendly manner.

“Oh, sure, it was South 78,” Hinamori replied. “Inuzuri, of course.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the outermost ones,” Aizen said in his goofy voice again. “Her paperwork says 48.”

Hinamori’s brow furrowed for a moment and then her face brightened. “She and Abarai had very heavy accents when they first came to the Academy, and used a lot of deep Rukongai language quirks. I don’t remember all of it, but they both used to use ‘shichi’ instead of ‘nana’ for seven, especially when referring to their district. They weren’t very fond of their home district. I wonder if the registrar misheard.”

“Well, there you go!” Aizen said, slapping his hands on his desk. “A very logical explanation!”

Hinamori beamed.

Byakuya found Aizen’s need to be liked by his subordinates very unprofessional and off-putting, but he tried to push it aside. He was trying not to be too eager, but this was probably the best lead he’d had on Hisana’s sister in all the years they had been searching. “Where is she now?” he grumbled.

Aizen turned his doe eyes on his fawning subordinate once more. “I don’t suppose you still keep in touch? She couldn’t have lasted very long there, they must have transferred again?”

Hinamori made a face like she didn’t want to say the answer. “I’m afraid that Kira and I had a bit of a falling out with Abarai and Inuzuri when they left. I haven’t talked to them in a few years, although we still have some mutual friends. As far as I know, though, they’re both still at Squad Eleven. I heard they were doing fairly well there, actually.”

The room seemed to retreat around Byakuya. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and the reverberations of the most horrible words he could possibly think of: Squad Eleven.

---

Byakuya knew it was poor etiquette to visit another captain’s squad when the man was out, but he absolutely could not stomach the idea of discussing the matter of his wife’s sister with the Kenpachi, so he waited until Zaraki and his miniature lieutenant were sent out to go trample half of East Rukongai before visiting.

He also knew that he probably should have said something to Hisana, but he couldn’t bring himself to get his wife’s hopes up, only to dash them, should this turn out to be nothing, like so many leads before it. So, the secret sat in his stomach, heavy and acidic, jostling with the guilt of his breach of etiquette.

“Is there someone here,” he gingerly asked one of the gentlemen on gate duty, “who takes care of administrative matters for the squad?”

The man swiveled his head, which appeared to grow directly from his torso with no need for an intervening neck, to his fellow guardsman. “What?”

The other fellow had been busy trying to remove wax from his ear with a pinky. “WHAT?” he shouted back.

“Paperwork!” Byakuya said a little louder. “Is there an office of some sort? A person who knows what’s going on?”

He supposed he could have asked for the girl, Inuzuri, directly, but he didn’t feel… ready.

“I think he wants Ayasegawa,” the neckless guard hazarded.

“WHAT?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Eventually, the burly gentleman returned. With him was a strangely elegant person with a silky curtain of hair cut severely to chin length and piercing violet eyes. “It really is you,” the lovely man said with a level of disdain that Byakuya almost had to admire. Before he had a chance to get offended, the man dipped into a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Eleventh, Captain Kuchiki. Fifth Seat Ayasegawa at your service. What in Soul Society can I possibly do for you?”

“Apologies for visiting while your captain is abroad,” Byakuya replied, not meaning a word of it.

“Oh, he’ll be very sorry to have missed you,” Ayasegawa frowned. “But I’m sure you could make it up to him later.”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. “Perhaps. I have come to enquire about a young woman whom I am told transferred to your squad three years ago.”

“Does she have a name? That might make it a little easier.”

“Inuzuri Rukia.”

Both of Ayasegawa’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth curved into a feline grin. “Ninth Seat Inuzuri, of course!”

Byakuya blinked. “Ninth Seat? Captain Aizen told me she was middling at best.”

Ayasegawa's face suddenly went stiff. “She was not well-served at the Fifth, but she has bloomed here most beautifully. Inuzuri is my personal protege, you know.” He stared at Byakuya under hooded eyes. “What is your interest in her? Captain?”

Byakuya took a deep breath through his nose. “My wife is also from Inuzuri. She is trying to locate someone she knew there. It is possible this Rukia is that someone.”

Ayasegawa frowned. “Well, I can introduce you, if you like. I should warn you, though, Rukia doesn’t have a lot of lost love for her hometown.”

“My understanding is that there isn’t much to love about it.”

“Mmm,” Ayasegawa agreed. “Well, come along, let’s go find her.” He concentrated for a moment, clearly trying to find her reiatsu. She must be a woman of some power, after all. “Ugh! She and Abarai are at it again! Every day!”

Byakuya swallowed stiffly.

“Well come on! She’s out at the training fields, clobbering our Tenth Seat, yet again.”

Oh. That kind of “going at it.”

Ayasegawa was shaking his head. “The two of them are literally an unstoppable force and an immovable object.”

“Abarai was also at the Fifth?,” Byakuya probed cautiously. “I was told they were close.”

“Of course they’re close!” Ayasegawa scoffed. “They’re partners!” He thought for a moment. “Abarai is from the 78th as well, you know. If Rukia turns out to not be your girl, perhaps one or the other of them knew the person you’re looking for. Abarai is one of those people who just… knows everyone. He’s the personable half of the pair.”

“‘Partners’?” Byakuya echoed. “What… kind of partners?”

Ayasegawa stared back at him like he was insane. “Partners.”

This path of inquiry clearly wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but wasn’t particularly relevant, either. “I did not think kidou-type zanpakutou were permitted in the Eleventh,” Byakuya sniffed. “Aizen’s records indicated Inuzuri wields an ice-and-snow type.”

Ayasegawa gave a little shrug. “Zanpakutou classifications are arbitrary. Obviously, if she had a bunch of showy blizzard attacks like Matsumoto’s little prodigy friend, it would be a no-go. Rukia can take the blade of her sword down to sub-zero temperatures. She has a weapon-shattering attack and she doesn’t feel pain when she’s fighting. It’s fundamentally no different than a zanpakutou so massive that only the wielder can lift it, or a whip sword that’s controlled with one’s reiatsu.”

This sounded like a quibble to Byakuya, but it’s not like he had come to the Eleventh looking for sound logic.

“She’s incredibly fast, probably the fastest person in the Eleventh, although no one’s really sure what Yachiru’s top speed is,” Ayasegawa continued on. He glanced at Byakuya slyly. “I hear you are very fast.”

“You have heard correctly.”

“That’s why Abarai can’t beat her. If he could land one really hard hit on her, she’d go down, but he’s not fast enough and she’s just too agile. He’s my partner’s protege, you see, so I have to take their little scraps very personally.”

How did this man talk so much?

“What did you say your wife’s relationship was to her again?”

“I did not.”

“Ah, right. Oops, look out!” Ayasegawa abruptly dove to one side as a giant mass of shihakushou and pink hair and what might be a sword came crashing through the split rail fence surrounding the training field.

Byakuya was not in the habit of ducking, so he merely plunged the force of his reiatsu down into the earth like a piton. It was almost, but not entirely sufficient. Byakuya gritted his teeth as he was driven back, dirt piling up behind his heels as he skidded backwards.

When they finally came to a halt, Byakuya looked down at the meaty youth lying at his feet. This must be the infamous Abarai, although he certainly didn’t look like one of Aizen’s usual simpering overachievers. The first thing Byakuya observed was the eye makeup. Most shinigami applied at least a little eyeliner, on grounds of tradition, but few bothered to blacken the entire eye socket, as in the skeletal facepaint of old. The second thing Byakuya noticed were the tattoos painted across his forehead and neck. They were black and spikey and horrible. The third thing was the hair, which was bright pink and spikey, and utterly at odds with the makeup and tattoos. The fourth thing was the big, sheepish grin, which honestly just tied the whole hideous tableau together.

Byakuya glared down at the lout, and in a moment of pettiness, flared his reiatsu to a level that should have sent blood spurting out of his ears.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to do much to someone who has a weekly sparring slot with the Kenpachi,” Ayasegawa commented dryly.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” the lummox cheerfully apologized as he sat up and brushed himself off. He had an Inuzuri accent so thick you could spread it on toast, an accent that Hisana tended to slip into only when she was extremely bent out of shape. Abarai snapped the sword hilt in his hand, and the tangled pile of steel on the ground neatly retracted into something that looked a little more like a weapon, if a weapon were designed by a creative and overly violent child.

“That’s a captain, you buffoon!” another voice rang out, and every muscle in Byakuya’s body locked. “Show your respects!”

The voice clearly affected Abarai as well, because he leapt to his feet, spun, and slammed into a bow. “My apologies, Captain…” his eyes glanced up and abruptly widened, “Kuchiki.”

“Greetings, Captain Kuchiki! Welcome to the Eleventh Division! I apologize very profusely for throwing Tenth Seat Abarai at you!” A second young person had come to join Abarai in his bow, and they both rose in unison, Abarai looking suddenly pale and nervous, his companion looking calm and confident.

So this was Inuzuri Rukia. She had Hisana’s voice. She had Hisana’s stature, and standing next to Abarai made her look positively childlike. She wore the same dreadful eyeblack, but the eyes that shone out of it were a variation on Hisana’s, harder and three shades more purple. The rest of the face was Hisana’s. Her hair was dark, shaved on the sides, arranged into porcupine spikes on top, although one lock hung down stubbornly between her eyes. Her ears glittered with silver piercings. At least she was free of awful tatt-- wait, no. Byakuya had missed them at first, because they were white. Abarai’s tattoos were spiky and sharp, but Inuzuri’s were graceful swirls, like ribbons wrapping lazily down her forearms. Even her reiatsu was like Hisana’s-- but instead of a cool, refreshing wintergreen, Inuzuri’s was the bone-deep cold of winter, a cold so harsh it burnt in the lungs.

There was no doubt.

This atrocious delinquent was his long-lost sister-in-law.

“Can we help you with something, sir?” Inuzuri prompted. “Abarai here’s a big fan of yours.”

“Shut up, Rukia,” Abarai managed through gritted molars.

“Inuzuri Rukia, you died as an infant thirty-six years ago and were sent to the 78th District of South Rukongai, is that correct?” Byakuya said stiffly.

Inuzuri and Abarai both bristled, a pair of mongrels raising their haunches. “That seems about right,” Inuzuri replied slowly. “My early years are a little hazy.”

“My wife, Hisana also died thirty-six years ago and was sent to Inuzuri with her infant sister,” Byakuya went on. “They were separated. My wife has been looking for her sister ever since. You… resemble her greatly.” Byakuya let the implication hang in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

There was silence for a moment. Then there was the distinct noise of a laugh that, having been held in, had escaped through someone’s nose. “Sorry! Pardon me!” Ayasegawa wheezed, clapping one hand over his mouth and looking away. “Bit of. Dust. In my throat.”

“I told you! I told you, you looked like that picture of her in the Bulletin!” Abarai was hissing.

“I thought you were lying because you thought she was pretty!” Inuzuri hissed back.

“I thought she was pretty because she looks just like you!”

“Now is really not the time, Abarai!” She cleared her throat and tried to stand up a bit taller, a futile effort. “So, uh, so what? What does that mean, if I am her sister? Does that… does that make me noble?”

A higher pitched wheezing came out of Ayasegawa. The level of impudence was extraordinary.

“I would like you to come to my home to meet her, first,” Byakuya put off making any promises. “We can discuss what comes next. As a family.”

“I’m at work right now,” Inuzuri excused.

“Inuzuri, I need to know how this pans out, you can have the afternoon off,” Ayasegawa informed her.

Inuzuri’s confidence seemed to be draining out of her. She took a tiny step closer to Abarai and groped for his hand. “I’m bringing Renji,” she declared.

“Is he compulsory?” Byakuya asked. Inuzuri was absurd looking too, but at least she was small.

“He’s my family,” Inuzuri insisted.

Byakuya’s brows furrowed. This could prove problematic. “In any sort of legally binding sense?”

“We’re engaged!” Inuzuri announced.

“We are?” Abarai goggled.

“I told you I’d marry you if you could ever manage to beat me in a fight! What else would you call that?” Rukia hissed at him in a voice that was still, unfortunately, perfectly audible.

“I’ve been trying every day, and honestly, Rukia, it’s not looking good for me!”

“Can you just go with it for once, instead of arguing with me every time?”

“If you want to leave and never tell anyone you found her,” Ayasegawa put in, “I am very bribable.”

Byakuya was sorely tempted.

---

End note: To further explain the number mix-up, as I understand it “seven” in Japanese can either be said as “nana” or “shichi”. People usually say “nana” for two reasons-- 1) to avoid confusion with 4 (”shi”, although you can also say “yon”) and because “shi” is a homophone for death. Given how shitty the districts in the 70s are, I rather liked the idea that they residents use the “shichi” pronunciation as a bit of gallows humor. (And if you don’t have a rude nickname for the town you grew up in, well, congrats for not growing up somewhere shitty)

I don’t actually speak Japanese, tho, so forgive me if this is all nonsense. 😁

[fanficclub]

Pon farr

Pon farr was introduced in the original series. I haven’t watched it (don’t throw rocks at me), but from what I’ve gathered from great many (many, many, many...) fanfics, it was, how do I say this, problematic since the beginning.

In fact, I wonder how such a logical race as Vulcans haven’t yet boycotted men and learned how to procreate without them. After all, we humans already managed it, as I heard. And all the male Vulcans should die.

It’s a bit hard to talk about, just because how unthinkable it is. So, adult Vulcans face an exhistential threat every 7 years - if they don’t have sex (or fight to death), they die. Mostly, having sex is seen as a more merciful option. And my question is: merciful to whom? As per custom, they bind children before they reach maturity, to avoid searching in the last minute. So, two children agree on something: one is assured of his survival when he reaches pon farr, the second is now certain that she will be raped when the time comes (and then again. and again.). What they did is normalize rape to save another person’s (man’s) life. “Oh, it’s their tradition“ - I don’t care. If your tradition is based on rape, they must change for me to respect them. 

There is really no other way to put it. They sexually exploit female Vulcans in order to preserve lives and traditions of men. Noone must give up their body for the survival of another. Noone should face a choice of debasement versus death of a stranger/friend/even lover. It is not a free choice, there is no consent under these circumstances. It is rape.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, now a little bit about writing Vulcans as a race - what they are made up to be, not what they are. They’re a fictional race after all, someone invented all their customs and traditions. As far as I know, pon farr has no deeper meaning except to be a somewhat erotic plot point for one episode. Perhaps, it is meant to show that everyone is fallible or something. Not very deep. I am unsure whether they considered the implications. In any case, I’m here to say that they should have.

Can we please, for the love of god, not have rape in every piece of media?

What frustrates me most, is that it’s an alien race, they could have been anything, the possibilities are endless. They could have been a sexless species, or they could have three sexes, they could have been a matriarchy, they could have different gender roles, they could have eliminated gender alltogether. But nooo, they are, again, a patriarchy with elders being mostly male, female vulcans wearing elaborate hairstyles and clothes, with fucking rape - I’m so sick of it. Could we have something, anything, different for once?

Phew. Well, it’s an old show. And there is always a possibility that they are some kind of metaphor - but I don’t understand it (clearly).

I still percieve them in a human way, I suppose it’s inevitable - they are written by humans with human stories, they have emotions and feelings that we can comprehend - and so the criticism is also human. It is a strange thing to talk about.

[joezworld]

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well: 

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

 BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.  

 Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing. 

 Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.  

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.  

 In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.  

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal  electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)  

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.) 

 As for other internet uses... 

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it. 

 James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened! 

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement! 

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver  ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.  

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for! 

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.  

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.  

 The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.  

 The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.  

 That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her... 

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

 So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself! 

 “On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”. 

 Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.  

 By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Eleven: Street Fighter

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Angel, I didn’t think we’d see you tonight,” Magenta greets her, stealing a quick hug.

“I took one more day off, but I was getting bored so I thought I’d come say hi,” Mila replies.

Her hair is down, chin length with yellow bleached tips against the jet-black regrowth; a pixie cut several months grown-out. Her face is bare, her eyes appearing smaller without the heavy lashes and liner, her face rounder without all the contour and blush.

Scully can’t stop staring. She can’t stop the hammering of her heart that seems to be saying Angel. Is. Mila. You. Fucking. Idiot. Mila meanders across the room, stopping to greet people before she finally makes her way to Scully, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey, Desi. You don’t look super stoked to see me.”

Scully shakes her head, her lips rooting for words. “No, I am,” she finally stammers, “I am happy to see you. I just...you look so different.”

Mila chuffs a nervous laugh. “They don’t call it catfishing for nothin’,” she jokes, tucking her silky locks behind her ear.

“Are your eyes a different color?” Scully asks dumbly.

“Yeah, contacts. Maybe you’ve heard of them?” It’s clear that Mila is growing increasingly perturbed by Scully’s response to her appearance.

“M- Angel,” Scully starts, looking at her intensely. “Can we talk, someplace private?”

Mila’s eyebrows furrow in concern and a little confusion, but she nods. Scully stands and takes her hand, guiding her down the hall and out onto the floor. The evening is in full swing now and it’s noisy and dark as she pulls Mila into a VIP room, snapping the curtain shut. She tries not to notice that this is the same one she spent time in with Mulder last night.

Mila stands near the coffee table, eyeing Scully skeptically. “Look, Desi, if you regret what happened that’s fine, we don’t ever have to talk about it again. But you’re acting really fucking weird right now.”

“Are you Mila Chamberlain?” Scully asks, her body postured for a whisper though she’s shouting to be heard over the music.

Mila’s face drains of color as she sucks in a startled breath. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before her lips begin to tremble and tears well in her eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” she spits back at Scully, her body tensing as though she’s preparing for a fight.

Scully holds up her hands in defense. “I’m not here to hurt you, Mila. I’m here to help you. I’m with the FBI.”

Mila’s fear gives way to confusion. “Help me do what?” she asks, wiping the back of her hand across her nose.

“Get out of here, out of Damsels,” Scully offers, but this only seems to confuse Mila more. “Okay, let me start at the beginning. Your parents requested help from the FBI because they believe you’re being held against your will. I was sent here undercover to locate you so we can get you out.”

Mila’s eyes narrow. “My parents?” she asks dubiously, and Scully nods. “My parents, who I told you are awful people, who raised me to hate myself?” Her tone is growing increasingly angry.

Scully’s face falls as she finally pieces it all together. M.C. The conversion therapy. Their kiss. Mila was never being held captive. She was trying to escape.

“Do you know they tried to have me involuntarily committed?” Mila says angrily, nostrils flaring. “If they find me, they’re going to have me locked away. Better a crazy daughter than a gay one, as far as they’re concerned.”

Scully can’t find the right words to say. She doesn’t know what the right thing to do is. She’s found Mila; that’s why she’s here. But Mila doesn’t want to be found.

After watching Scully try and fail to speak for a full minute, Mila scoffs and moves past her towards the opening in the curtain. Before she leaves she turns back and speaks again, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, so much, for your help, Desi. Or whoever the fuck you are.” And then she’s gone.

Scully scrambles for the right next step. This isn’t in any of her FBI handbooks. What do you do when it turns out the victim wasn’t a victim at all? Or that they are, but not of whom you had thought? She needs to talk to Mila again, to understand the situation. She rushes out of the VIP room and looks around, unsure if Mila returned to the back or left out the front. She’s headed towards the bar to ask Queenie if she saw Angel leave when she runs smack into Mulder.

“Sc-Desiree,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders, “I need to talk to you.”

“Not now, Mulder,” she hisses, looking around for any sign of Mila.

“Please, it’s important. Can we go to a private room?”

She raises her arms and pulls his hands down, moving to pass him. “Get the hell out of here, Mulder, I’m working,” she growls.

He catches her wrist, pulling her back to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead lets loose a yelp as Denny’s fist closes around his forearm with a vice grip.

“Time to go,” Denny says in that funny flat affect she’s come to enjoy. As Mulder releases his grip on her, Denny guides him towards the door.

“Desiree! He calls over his shoulder, “tell him it’s okay!”

“Go home,” Scully says with a glare, then heads to the bar as Denny pushes Mulder outside.

“Queenie, did you see Angel go by in street clothes?” she shouts across the rail, and Queenie shakes her head.

Scully is about to go check in the back when a stricken look falls over Queenie’s face, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Scully follows her gaze to the stage, where a moment ago Lexie was doing her set. Lexie is still up there, but so is a tall, muscled man. Lexie is cowering at the base of the pole, her hands covering the back of her head as the man kicks her repeatedly.

Scully instinctively reaches for her weapon, which is decidedly not holstered to her panties, and then scans the room for her bird dogs. Denny hasn’t yet come back from eighty-sixing Mulder. The other bird dog working tonight is nowhere to be seen. She suddenly remembers something Tibet had told her.

“Queenie!” she shouts, and it takes a couple attempts before the woman peels her eyes away from the stage and looks at her. “You have a baseball bat back there, right? Give it to me.”

Queenie lifts a wooden baseball bat from behind the bar and hands it to her with a horrified look on her face. “Don’t do something stupid, Desi. I’m calling the cops.” She turns and picks up the phone as Scully stalks away from the bar, muttering to herself “I think they’re already here.”

As she weaves through the crowd, she sees the other bird dog lying on the floor; his head is bleeding and he appears to be unconscious. She moves to the side of the stage, approaching from behind the man who is assaulting Lexie. Lexie isn’t moving anymore, but that doesn’t seem to deter him as he delivers swift, sharp kicks to her rib cage. In a room full of men, you’d think someone would have stepped up to protect this woman. Instead they all stand around gape-mouthed, looking at one another as though holding a silent vote for who should intervene. Rage swells in her chest as she steps forward and lifts the bat high over her head, bringing it down against the back of his skull with a crack .

He stumbles forward, falling over the tip rail and onto the floor in front of the stage. Ben seems to have finally realized something is going on and the music cuts out abruptly, her ears ringing in the sudden silence.

Scully wants to go to Lexie, but she knows her perpetrator has not been neutralized. She jumps down from the stage and the circle that has formed around the man expands to include her. With the bat in her hand and this outfit, she feels a bit like she’s been teleported into Street Fighter. He is attempting to push up onto his knees and she holds her weapon ready in a batter’s stance. If only Mulder were snuggled up behind her instead of outside in the parking lot, this may be a more fair fight.

“Freeze!” she commands, “federal agent!”

He lifts his head to look at her and laughs derisively before lowering it again.

She realizes how absurd she must look. All five foot three of her, four inch plastic heels and purple underwear, looking like she’s ready to make a run for first base, no badge to flash. Really intimidating, she’s sure.

“I assure you, sir, I am a federal agent and you are under arrest,” she repeats in her most authoritative voice.

He rises quickly, clearly having been exaggerating the degree of his injury, and as soon as she sees him reaching into his jacket she swings again, making contact with his jaw and sending a spray of blood and spit across the gawkers. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t knock him off his feet, and only momentarily delays him drawing his gun and leveling it on Scully. She hears him disengage the safety and she closes her eyes.

Mulder puts up a decent fight, though admittedly more of a verbal one. He’s obstinate, but not stupid, and Denny is probably twice his weight.

“You know the rules, no touching,” Denny is explaining again, blocking Mulder from re-entering the club.

“Look, I understand that, but I know her. She doesn’t care if I touch her. Ask her! Go ask her!”

Denny is unmoved, emotionally and physically. Finally, Mulder accepts defeat and trudges towards his car at the back of the lot. Once he’s pulled the door open, he sees Denny go back inside. He sits heavily, one leg hanging out the open door, and drops his head against the headrest with an exasperated sigh. He’s about to give up and head back to Alexandria when he hears the distinctive crack of a gunshot.

His feet kick up gravel like buckshot as he flies back to the doors of the club, drawing his weapon on the way. His pounding heart is a metronome, keeping time in slow motion as it carries him towards her. As he nears the club, people start pouring out. A steady stream of terrified men scramble haphazardly from the small doorway, and he elbows his way past them, the wrong way, the right way, towards her. He makes his way to the floor, a cacophony of screams and shouts. Gunpowder and whiskey permeate the air and he pushes through the mele, towards her.

Continue Reading Here

[yume-fanfare]

Sakuragaoka Highschool’s Newspaper Extra: Interview

this is a translation of one of the short stories published for LIPxLIP’s birthday in japanese here. you can read the other one, starting line, here. this was translated from this spanish translation by mieltrabajos

Yamamoto Koudai went to the staff room after class. He was now the president of the journalism club, as the one before him had graduated, and he’d been called in by the club’s advisor, Akechi Saku. Koudai thought the talk would be about the school’s newspaper report on the school festival as it was supposed to be ready by December, but it turned out not to be the case. 

Mr. Akechi had said it nonchalantly, without looking up from his computer with a lollipop in his mouth. Koudai, however, was very confused.

“An interview…?”

Mr. Akechi nodded and then turned towards Koudai.

“Every now and then we have a section named Sakuragaoka’s Stars, don’t we?”

“Yes… well, there is one.”

They did have a section like that, introducing active students as stars. It wasn’t a bad project, but the... old-fashioned title was a bit cringy and people didn’t read it much. Well, the school’s newspaper as a whole wasn’t read much, people weren’t interested in it. They published it monthly and handed it over in the school festival, but not many people took them. Maybe if they didn’t publish information on all the school activities, they’d be able to cut down expenses next year. 

(I am lucky to be managing the school’s newspaper, journalism is the only school activity I’m interested in).

“Have you decided who it’ll be about this month?”

“No, I’m… still in the process of selection.”

He was thinking about the light music club, or maybe the drama one as they both were active during the school festival. Or maybe interview the students from the festival executive committee themselves. It could also be one of the swimming club members, as they were doing synchronized swimming even in the cold, or someone from the tea ceremony club who were doing something called “creative dancing tea ceremony”. December’s issue was going to be the last one of the year, so he wanted to end on a high note. There were lots of students he’d like to see.

“Would you like to interview my students, Shibasaki Aizou and Someya Yuujirou?”

Koudai stayed silent for a few seconds thinking about Mr. Akechi’s words.

“Wouldn’t that be hard?” he answered.

With just a few comments on those two’s appearance at the sports festival, that month’s issue had skyrocketed in popularity as their fans scrambled to get a copy. If Koudai got to interview them, the newspaper would be read everywhere.

But Shibasaki Aizou and Someya Yuujirou were professional idols. Interviewing them without getting through their office first would be a problem. That was why Koudai was unsure about being able to handle the project.

“They’re students of our school, so there should be no problem, right?”

“I’ll ask but… I’m not sure if they’ll cooperate.”

“That’s fine, Yamamoto.” Akechi smiled and offered him a lollipop, like always. “Please do it properly.”

“Ah…”

(He’s even telling me to do it right…)

Koudai excused himself out of the staff room, and twirled the lollipop in his hands.

“It’s so easy to say that…” he sighed.

But, did that mean he trusted Koudai as the club president? Mr. Akechi may look a bit eccentric, but he never said anything without a reason. Koudai couldn’t answer his “Will you be able to do this?” question with a no. He was determined to do it.

He put the candy in his pocket and pushed his glasses up.

“I want to do something really good…”

(If I got to interview those two, I want to make it a special issue, use big pages and highlight it. It’d be great if I could take a photo too).

“Is that really possible...?” Koudai brought a hand to his chin, deep in thought as he walked down the hallway.

He still wasn’t sure, and even if he didn’t have much hope, it may be possible. It was a very rewarding job for him, even if Mr. Akechi had put him between a rock and a hard place. If he managed to get it right it would be a fantastic opportunity to get more people to learn about the club.

(Where do those two go after school?)

He hadn’t heard anything about them being in clubs. Maybe they headed straight to work after class.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, Koudai!”

Shibasaki Ken was walking down the stairs. They were in the same class and together with Enomoto Kotarou, had been good friends since middle school. They usually called him Shibaken.

He looked like he was about to head home. Since he wasn’t in any clubs, he always wandered around after class.

“What are you doing? Club activities?”

“Something like that. Are you going back home, Shibaken?”

“Yeah. Kotarou is also doing activities, so I have no other choice.”

“And Takamizawa-san?”

Takamizawa Arisa, whom Ken was always running after, didn’t seem to be around either. She wasn’t in any clubs, like Ken, and Koudai had seen them going back home and spending breaks between classes together recently. However, that wasn’t the case today.

“Arisa-chan has intensive classes today,” Ken sighed, crossing his arms behind his head with a bored grimace. “Lately, everyone does.”

“You have a lot of free time. Why don’t you find a hobby or join a club?”

When they were in middle school Ken spent his time playing with girls, but he seemed to have lost interest in that. Now, he was really invested in Takamizawa Arisa. As a close friend of his, the fact that Ken was so focused on a single person alone was a bit surprising. Despite his appearance and carefree attitude, he seemed to be becoming a little bit more serious.

“There’s no club activity that stands out to me. I could consider your journalism club, though. You don’t have many members, right? It’d be a friendship club!” Shibaken joked.

“We don’t allow ghost members. What about the gardening club?”

Kotarou and his childhood friend Hina were in the gardening club, but there barely were any members, and it was at risk of closing. Though the journalism club was, too, they had only gotten one new member this year. The track and field was the most active one and the students were really good athletes, so most freshmen applied for that one.

“I’d only be a bother there.”

Kodai turned his head to the side.

“Really?”

He guessed it was because of Kotarou and Hina.

They were childhood friends, but everyone could clearly see Kotarou liked Hina, although she constantly made fun of him. Koudai, however, didn’t know how she felt about him and he wasn’t going to snoop.

Ken put his arm around Koudai’s shoulders.

“And where are you going, Koudai?”

“To an interview. For next month’s issue.”

“Oh, that sounds fun, I’ll go with you! Who are you interviewing?”

“A pair of freshmen idols,” Koudai answered.

Upon hearing that, Ken drew his arm back and stayed silent for a few seconds.

“Oh I just remembered I have a really important business to handle. Well then, Koudai, do your best with the interview!” Ken walked away towards the entrance.

Like always, Ken’s personality was a fickle thing. It seemed like he had some complicated and uncomfortable circumstances.

Koudai had wanted to ask Ken about ‘him’, because he probably knew him better. But as Ken’s friend, he prefered to not touch the topic much either.

After all, the interview was about ‘them’ as students, not some scoop.

Koudai took out his pen and notebook and whispered:

“All right, let’s go.”

Maybe they’d still be inside their classroom.

---

Koudai reached the first years’ hall and looked around with nostalgia. The first years who looked so nervous at the entrance ceremony now seemed completely used to high school life.

Time to start looking for those two.

Loud voices could be heard from one of the classrooms, so he stopped by there first. Most students seemed like they were about to go home or were getting ready for club activities. Only a few girls still crowded around their desks, excitedly talking about some magazines.

“Doesn’t Aizou-kun look like someone dangerous in this picture?”, Koudai overheard.

“Yes, and Yuujirou-kun looks so cute!”

“What kind of CD did you choose? I want a poster!”

“I preordered everything! If you get a Yuujirou-kun sticker we can trade~”

Seemed like those two were the center of attention.

(I hope I can talk to them…)

When Koudai walked into the classroom, someone seemed to have noticed him. A girl wearing the sports uniform looked at him with sparkly eyes.

“Could it be, Yamamoto-san from the journalism club!” She smiled brightly.

She was at the track and field club and had participated in the relay race. Suzumi Hiyori, Setoguchi Hina’s underclassman. Koudai had interviewed her a bit some time ago.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes… for a small interview.”

“An interview!” The girl leaned forward with eyes full of curiosity.

“Yes, could you help me a bit?”

“O-oh, yes, if you’re fine with me!”

They moved away from the hall to not bother anyone and Koudai opened his laptop.

“Could we do it now?”

“Yes, of course!”

“I wanted to interview two of your classmates for next month’s issue, Shibasaki Aizou and Someya Yuujirou-”

“Shibasaki-kun and Someya-kun?!” Hiyori’s voice became surprisingly low and she took a step back.

(Uh…? … Why such an exaggerated reaction…?)

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

“Yes… I just want you to tell me a bit about them.”

“So it’s not an interview for me?” Hiyori’s face fell down and her shoulders dropped.

(Oh, so it was that…)

“Of course, I’ve heard about your feats at the sports festival. Setoguchi-san is also really happy about how you did and praised you for your hard work,” he tried to cheer her up, and it immediately worked as Hiyori lifted her head and smiled.

“For real?!”

“Yes, she always says she’ll do her best not to lose against Suzumi-san.”

“My goal is Setoguchi-senpai too! I’m so happy~” Hiyori laughed cheerfully, a bit embarrassed, touching her cheeks.

“Suzumi-san, you’re in the same class as them, right?”

“Yes… for now…” Hiyori rocked back and forth as she answered.

“Anything is fine, but if you know something, please tell me.”

“About what…?” “Anything is fine…”

“I don’t know anything, really!” Hiyori shook her head and stuck out her tongue, like she was annoyed.

“Why? You don’t talk with them?”

“I don’t! Whenever I try, their fans bite me…” Koudai slid his pen over the notebook as he mumbled:

“Even in the classroom…?” Then added. “Then, do those two usually stay alone in class? During lunch break, I mean.”

“Hmmm… they’re not always together. They usually eat by themselves… it’s kind of rare to see them talking to each other?” she answered.

Koudai leaned forward.

“That’s… surprising. Is their relationship bad?” He put his hand on his chin, thinking.

Hiyori grimaced and quickly added:

“That’s not it! There’s times where they have fun and cheer each other up when they’re feeling down!” After saying that, for some reason, Hiyori added in a whisper: “In front of the fans… I’m not sure…” she sighed. “It may look like they don’t get along… but they like the same things.”

“The same things?”

“Yes! Singing, dancing… and tuna mayo riceballs.”

“Tuna mayo…” Koudai mumbled. Without noticing, he doodled a riceball and wrote tuna mayo next to it.

“Oh, I prefer the dried plum ones. My grandma said that eating acids makes you live much longer and have 100 times as much energy!” Hiyori said and then crossed her arms and puffed her cheeks. “But those two don’t appreciate their greatness…”

“Eh?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! I was just monologuing…”

She got nervous, and Koudai softened his gaze behind the lens.

“I understand, Suzumi-san. But this is about them.”

“I know, I was just trying to explain!”

“What kind of bond do Shibasaki Aizou and Someya Yuujirou have in your eyes?”

“For me…?”

“Don’t think about it too much. How do you think they are like…?”

She took a while to think about it, but focused again.

“Hmmm… they’re incredible…” she closed her eyes as she answered. “They work very hard every day. When I look at them, they’re always doing their best, and they make me want to work hard too, so, to me… they’re cheerful partners?”

Then, she blushed and pressed her hands together in a plea.

“Don’t write that in the article, it’s too embarrassing!”

“Suzumi-san, you sound like you’re a fan of them too.” Koudai put the pen on his mouth, smiling.

“Yes… but even so, my number one idol is Setoguchi-senpai!!”

Koudai laughed and said: “I’ll let her know.” Then added: “Well, do you know where those two are? I was looking for them.”

“Today Shibasaki-kun has to record a song, and Someya-kun has a photoshoot at a fashion magazine, so they’ve probably left already.”

“Oh, I see...·

“Ah! Then, maybe I could…! I heard those two talking about that… something like...” Hiyori bowed. “I’m sorry, I have a club meeting!” she exclaimed and bolted out of the classroom in the blink of an eye. As it was to be expected, coming from a track and field pro.

“Such an interesting girl, Suzumi-san…” Koudai wanted to interview her, some other time. 

But now, he had to work on those two. Talking to them after class seemed complicated, since they left so quickly.

Koudai closed the notebook and pocketed the pen.

(I’ll look for them during lunch break tomorrow, maybe I’ll get lucky)

---

The next day, Koudai heard excited screaming as he was walking through the courtyard during lunch break.

The first years were playing soccer, and a lot of girls crowded around the fence, cheering and yelling. And not just first years, but also second and third year girls. Even the school’s nurse was looking towards the field from one of the school’s balconies.

(So popular…)

The reason for all of that was no other than Aizou. He had taken off his blazer, rolled up his sleeves and was running after the ball with his classmates. 

The soccer club members watched the first years with interest too. Koudai noticed Kotarou amongst them and walked up to him. A tournament was about to start, so they were practicing during lunch too.

“Hey, Koudai, what are you doing?” Kotarou called out to him. “An interview?”

“Something like that.”

Aizou reached the boy who had the ball, easily stole it and ran towards the goal. The defenders tried to stop him but he dodged them and scored a goal. The girls all stood up and screamed and his classmates high-fived each other and laughed, celebrating the victory. Koudai quickly snapped a picture. He didn’t know if he’d be able to use it but he didn’t want to lose the chance.

“He’s great. I wish he’d join the club.” Kotarou crossed his arms and sighed heavily, looking at Aizou.

He’d been pretty good during the relay race at the sports festival, and his motor skills would surely be great at any sports club. No matter what, he could adapt and excel at it for sure.

“Why don’t you try to recruit him?”

“He’s too busy with rehearsals, he’s a full-time idol…” Kotarou crossed his hands behind his head and eyed Koudai. “What’s the interview about?” “The first year idols. They’re hard to find.”

“Shouldn’t you hurry up and talk to him then? Before a girl bites you for getting too close.”

Kotarou clapped his hands together:

“Everyone, gather!” he ordered the first years in a serious club-president tone.

Koudai walked up to Aizou, who was still breathing heavily.

“Shibasaki Aizou,” he called out. “I’m from the journalism club, may I interview you a little bit?”

Aizou wiped his forehead with his sleeve and turned towards Koudai.

“Yamamoto-senpai.”

“Oh, you remember my name?”

“It’s because… I saw it during the sports festival. But I don’t know if I can accept the interview.” Aizou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Probably because of his agency.

“I think it’ll be okay, I don’t want to interview you as an idol, but as a first year student.” It was what Mr. Akechi had said: after all, he was a Sakuragaoka student.

Aizou changed his expression to a friendly grin.

“I don’t think that makes much of a difference but… what would you like to know?”

“About your school life. How’s this year going? Anything is fine, it’ll be interesting.”

(He seems like a normal student after all… not as carefree as Shibaken).

Both brothers were a bit shy but kind, with friendly personalities. Easy to talk to. Koudai had a lot of classmates like that. The other boys who were playing soccer called him by his first name, too. Koudai thought the fact that Aizou was an idol would make him less approachable in class, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case.

“Well, something interesting… do the cultural and sports festivals count?”

“During the last festival, your class did a haunted house, right? You were one of the best classes during the costume contest too. Yours was a very popular one, Shibasaki-kun.”

“The girls from our class were really excited about it and they were the ones to design the costumes. I hope everything looked good…”

Aizou seemed a bit embarrassed.

“I think it suited you…” Koudai remembered all the screaming fans running to the haunted house to see Aizou’s costume.

(It went quite well I think).

“Maybe the zombies could have been better,” said Aizou. “Even if it was a haunted house, I wasn’t very scared. I would have wanted it to be more realistic…”

“In my opinion it was pretty well made. Especially the sound. Though, in some areas the lights were too dark and we couldn’t really see the production work. Things like the chandelier, the mannequins or the hands on the walls. I would have liked to see them properly.”

Aizou crossed his arms and mumbled: 

“Yeah, it was a bit dark after all…”

Maybe it was so he and his partner stood out less. It was inevitable, though. If they were there, all eyes would be on them.

“The voice and the wind noise that played when you walked into the room was seriously frightening. It felt so real,” Koudai reminisced.

Aizou grinned widely.

“Oh, that was my voice! Maybe most people didn’t notice… The wind was Yuujirou’s hair dryer, though it wasn’t very strong.”

“It looks like you had a lot of fun at the cultural festival.”

Koudai thought he wasn’t very interested in school events, but it seemed like they both had participated with their classmates both in the sports and the cultural festivals.

“You really are a regular student too, like Mr. Akechi said.”

“Mr. Akechi?”

“Ah, um yes… It’s nothing. This is enough.”

“Are you sure?” Aizou asked rushedly.

“Yes, thank you. By the way, I’d like to interview Someya Yuujirou too, do you know where he is?”

“Yuujirou? Well… I don’t know if he’ll be okay with being interviewed. He can be a little problematic sometimes, but, if you want to… He must be at some secluded place, without many people. The backyard, maybe…”

“I’ll look for him. It’ll be a great article.”

“I haven’t answered much though… just things about the school festival.”

“Everyone wants to know about it. About you doing normal things.” Koudai closed his notebook. “See you,” he told Aizou before leaving.

The girls who had been looking at them from afar immediately ran towards Aizou.

Such a hard life, the school idol’s.

Koudai continued with his path: “The backyard huh…?”

---

When he got there, there were no other students around. Usually, it was the third years who met here, not the freshmen, but there weren’t any seniors around either. Probably because of the November cold. The cherry trees’ leaves had been taken by the wind a long time ago.

Koudai caught sight of a student, standing alone in front of the flower beds.

(Exactly where he said…)

It looked like there were no noisy fans around. That should be better, right? Koudai walked up to the flowerbeds, the ones the gardening club was taking care of. Yuujirou looked at them absentmindedly, like he wasn’t really there.

“Someya-kun,” Koudai said, raising his voice.

Yuujirou turned around, quickly changing his expression. 

“Senpai… Are you talking to me?”

Much like Aizou, Yuujirou also remembered him from the sports festival as a senior from the journalism club.

“I’d like to publish an interview of you and Shibasaki Aizou in the school’s newspaper next month.”

“I’m not supposed to agree to things like that though…”

Koudai sighed lightly at the negative answer, touching the rim of his glasses. He had gotten him to answer some questions at the sports festival, but maybe it was because there were a lot of students around… It wouldn’t be that easy this time.

“I only want to ask about your school life, is that still no good?”

“I am not very good at talking,” Yuujirou bowed his head. “Sorry.”

(I’ve already interviewed Aizou so that could be enough, but…)

He wanted an interview with both of them, but he didn’t want to force him.

Yuujirou turned his head back to the flowers and Koudai looked at them too. Swaying with the cold wind, they were yellow flowers.

“Rudbeckies… they’re still in full bloom…” he commented.

Kotarou and his childhood friend Hina had planted that one. They had joined the club as first years and had fought to preserve them. It was nostalgic. That flower was very important for those two friends.

Yuujirou lifted his gaze and looked back to Koudai, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“They’re from the gardening club,” Koudai explained.

“There’s a gardening club…” Yuujirou said to himself, looking at the flowers again.

“Well, I’m not sure if there’ll still be one next year, there aren’t enough members and no one new has joined yet. If you’re interested…

“I can’t join, I’m not interested.”

Koudai exhaled, casually pushing his glasses up.

“Of course.”

Balancing idol work and school couldn’t be easy. He had no time for clubs. And even if he had, it’ll probably attract too many fans.

It was plain to see that Ayase Koyuki’s graduation had been the cause of the club’s demise. Kotarou and Hina were trying to revive it, worried for the club. They really wanted someone new to join.

“You’re staring at the flowerbed a lot… Are you worried about something?”

“It looks like they’re about to die. I was wondering if they’re well cared for.”

“Yeah, it’s because the season for flowers is over. They bloomed already, they’re fine.”

“... You know a lot about this.”

“One of my best friends is in the gardening club.”

He had stayed late reading a flower book with Kotarou at the library once. The season for these flowers was from summer til October. Maybe they had lasted this long because the warm days were expected to continue until mid-January this year. But their season was already over.

“Is the gardening club in charge of the flowerbeds at the rooftop too?”

“Indeed. Kotarou and Setoguchi-san said they had planted pansies. They plan on planting tulips there next spring.” Koudai pointed to a remote flowerbed. The grass had been removed from it and the soil had been smoothed out. “Since the third years are graduating…”

During spring, beautiful and colorful tulips would bloom. Just like the year before.

(Really, in the blink of an eye…)

“Have you had fun? This year…” Koudai asked casually.

Yuujirou furrowed his brow.

“I will not be interviewed.”

“It’s just small talk. I won’t write an article. I promise.”

Yuujirou looked ahead.

“Well,” he said. “It was…” His gaze softened and he smiled slightly.

He must have remembered something good. Koudai wanted to hear a bit more now but…

“I’m glad,” Koudai smiled and turned around.

“That was good?” Yuujirou said, confused.

“This was not an interview. Though, if you were to accept one, I’d gladly do it,” he answered, turning back to face him, and waved his hand.

“Oh, here you are!” Suzumi Hiyori rushed towards Yuujirou with a cheerful voice. “Someya…!!!” . When he noticed Koudai was there, she covered her mouth with her hands mid-yell.

Yuujirou furrowed his brow at her mistake:

“God…” he mumbled.

“Someya-kun… uh… eh… it looks like… Teacher Uchida is calling you,” she said to Someya in a terrified tone and then ran away.

(Is there a teacher named like that in school…?)

Passing by them, Koudai went back into the building.

---

Koudai went to talk to Mr. Akechi at the staff room after class before heading to the club room.

(Mr. Akechi told me to wait until tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be able to ask him again…)

He walked down the hall as he thought about it and opened the biology classroom they used for their club. The other members had other work that day, so there probably wasn’t anyone there yet.

However, when he opened the door, he stopped in his tracks. There was in fact a student there.

Yuujirou, standing next to the shelf by the window. He was looking with curiosity at the cameras and lenses Koudai used at the club.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Koudai commented.

Yuujirou looked at him, chin in hand.

“You said you wanted to interview me, Yamamoto-senpai. But I want to interview you.”

Koudai laughed.

“I wanted to interview you, Mr. Akechi asked me to.”

Yuujirou clumsily turned around. He puffed out his cheeks in annoyance.

“I see,” he said, lowering his voice.

Koudai closed the door behind them.

“Then, let’s start.”

There were lots of things Yuujirou could ask about.

This was going to be a fun interview.

“I wanted you to tell me about the camera.”

“The journalism club is also looking for members. If you’re interested…”

“I can’t join.”

The answer was still simple, but his jaw softened a bit.

“Well… do you want to learn how to take pictures? Of whom?”

“For now… of my dog?”

Koudai walked closer to Yuujirou and handed him his single-lens reflex camera, his favorite one. Yuujirou held it very carefully and pointed the lens towards the window.

“...How do you focus?”

“Like this. It’s set on manual now, but if you set it to auto, it’ll focus on its own. When you change it to shooting mode, you can-”

“Ohhh...” Koudai noticed how bright Yuujirou’s expression was while he looked at the camera.

“... adjust the exposition,” Koudai finished.

Yuujirou nodded with a serious face.

“Can I take a picture?”

“Of course.”

Yuujirou took a step backwards and, much to Koudai’s surprise, turned the lens away from the window to focus on Koudai.

The shutter went off.

“Wait, I am supposed to be the one interviewing you.”

“A bit of change is always good,” Yuujirou joked, lowering the camera.

Koudai pushed his glasses up.

“I see…”

(With Shibasaki Aizou and him… this should be popular)

---

Mid-december brought Yuujirou and Aizou relaxing at the office’s break room.

Yuujirou was sleeping on the table while listening to music. In front of him, Aizou played mobile games to kill time. That day, they had had a meeting with their manager regarding their next mv.

In that moment, Suzumi Hiyori, manager in training, barged into the room yelling:

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”

Yuujirou was startled by the scream, lifting his head with a sleepy face.

“Monster…” he mumbled. Maybe he was still asleep, actually.

“What the hell, you scared me!” Aizou put his phone down, frowning.

“I brought a surprise!”

Suzumi held the school’s newspaper in her shaky hands. The journalism club members had been handing it out in the school that morning.

“Our… our interview is here!”

Aizou quickly took the newspaper from her hands with sparkling eyes. That morning the girls at school had made a fuss over that issue and he’d been unable to catch a copy for himself; they all disappeared within seconds.

(Oh, last month’s interview… do I have it?)

Yamamoto-senpai had given Aizou a newspaper, but he’d been too busy to read it. He’d left it in his school desk’s drawer and had forgotten about it.

“Where’s the interview?” he asked, skimming through the pages.

Hiyori leaned over.

“Here!” she proudly pointed at the main article.

Comments from their classmate, S-san, a subheader said.

“‘Apparently, they like tuna mayo riceballs’...? What the hell is this?” Aizou complained. “Don’t accept interviews without permission.”

“Well… but I didn’t say anything out of place!” Hiyori shook her head.

“Don’t sound so happy about it. It’s a single line on a school’s paper.”

“Hey, it’s okay! Sometimes I like standing out too, alright? You two are always getting interviewed everywhere.”

“It’s only natural, who’d want to interview a manager in training?” Aizou got up, angry. He wanted to chop Hiyori’s head off.

“Wh… that’s the school newspaper? It’s out already?” Yuujirou mumbled in a sleepy I-just-woke-up voice while he ran his hands through his bangs.

“You got interviewed too. How did they buy you?” Aizou asked him with a  mocking smile.

With his interview, there was also Yuujirou’s. Aizou was surprised, he was sure Yuujirou would’ve refused.

“It was fine… I didn’t answer much…” Yuujirou looked at the article. “‘Preparing for the school festival was hard, but cooperating with everyone was very important’... Aren’t you a fraud? You didn’t do anything, just slept in a coffin.”

“Do you ever shut that irritating mouth of yours?” 

Yuujirou kicked Aizou under the table.

“That hurts! Don’t kick me!”

Right before the argument escalated, the break room’s door opened.

“Sorry for the wait!” It was their manager, Uchida, who seemed to be in a good mood. “The pictures in this newspaper are very good! I wonder if the boy from the journalism club took them, he’s got a good eye. He captured that natural side you two rarely let out.”

“Eh?! Why did Uchida-san read the newspaper?!” Aizou asked loudly, pointing at the school’s newspaper.

“Oh, the teacher in charge of the journalism club sent it to me. He asked me for permission to interview you two, he’s a good teacher. But, above that, he’s a good man~ ❤” Manager Uchida giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I don’t want to hear that!”

“I didn’t really cooperate anyway…” Yuujirou mumbled sleepily.

“I wonder if I can post the newspaper’s pictures on our website,” Manager Uchida wondered. “Like a precious photo of LIPxLIP’s school life!” she suggested.

“Oh, that’s right! If our interview appeared in a newspaper, I should contact my grandma and my mom!” Hiyori excitedly pulled out her phone and started to dial her house. “Oh, but I should contact my school counselor too and send them a picture!”

Manager Uchida happily strolled around the room, skipping steps, almost jumping.

“Stop that-!!”

“You’re so loud. You’re not a speaker, lower your volume.”

“Don’t cover your ears and stop Uchida-san! She’s out of control, what if she makes merch out of the pictures?!”

“It’s fine by me. Unlike Aizou, I don’t find it embarrassing.”

“What do you mean ‘unlike Aizou’?”

“Oh, mom! I got the newspaper! It’s our school’s but… I’ll fax it to you at a convenience store. So you can read it! Eh? Dried plum? Yes, I’d love to eat some! Oh, send me rice too. Yes… hm, canned.”

“Hey, potato girl, call your home outside of your work schedule!!”

“Don’t call me potato! … Oh, mom? It’s nothing. The pineapple from my part-time job is making fun of me… Yes, it’s fine. I totally defeated him!”

“Eh?! What are you telling your parents?!”

“Pfft… a pineapple!”

“Don’t laugh, Yuujirou…”

---

Koudai leaned over the rooftop’s railing after school, looking at the ground that was dyed by the sunset. The soccer, baseball and track and field club members trained with enthusiasm despite the cold.

Kotarou’s figure received a pass and ran after the ball. Hina’s running figure seemed small. And Suzumi Hiyori’s, who ran with her, did too.

Takamizawa Arisa and Shibasaki Ken were leaving the school building, walking next to each other. He saw Ken stop and laugh, waving at Kotarou.

In the school’s gate, the idol duo’s fans were waiting for the manager’s car to arrive, surely making a fuss. And it was not just Sakuragaoka’s uniforms, but from other schools too.

It was a familiar sight.

“It’s cold…” mumbled Mr. Akechi, his advisor, as he opened the door and walked into the rooftop.

When he got to Koudai’s side, he trembled and rubbed his arms. He put his hands in the pockets of his white labcoat.

“Mr. Akechi…”

“Thank you for your hard work. Today’s article was very well received,” Mr. Akechi smiled. “A success.”

“It was because those two answered properly…”

They had balanced what they should answer, what they wanted to answer, what Koudai was looking for and the proper wording for it. They were clever and talented. Going to school with those two…they really were pros.

“It worked because you’re you, Yamamoto, don’t you think?”

When he heard those words, Koudai turned to look at Mr. Akechi. His eyes were fixated on the ground, where the students could be heard yelling.

“Ah, the youth,” he whispered with a smile.

“I only wrote.”

It had been Mr. Akechi who gave him the article, and he had apparently called the office to ask for permission. Thanks to that, he’d been able to publish a special picture of those two in the newspaper. The interview wouldn’t have been possible without him.

“Did you ask me to do it because you trusted me? If not, I don’t think I would’ve done it. Those two…”

Koudai saw Akechi’s furrowed brow and laughed.

He must fight with them constantly too. They probably weren’t easy-to-handle students at all. 

“It’s hard, right? For teachers, too.”

“Well… they’re never boring, though. It’s like this every year.” He smiled, hands in pockets. His eyes were looking at the sunset sky, gazing at an airplane far away.

“I see,” Koudai commented.

“Those two’s manager praised your picture. It was a very good shot. She wants to put it on their website, is that okay?”

“Yes, I’ll send it to you later.”

Koudai waved him goodbye, and Mr. Akechi left the rooftop. Koudai stayed there some more time. The sun’s warmth hit his back, his shadow falling over the flowerbed.

He took out the lollipop Mr. Akechi had given him before. He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. Koudai gazed at the ground, leaning over the railing.

An irreplaceable year for everyone.

Everything moves forward while the present turns into a memory.

Like the older graduated students, and the ones to follow too.

“Someya Yuujirou and Shibasaki Aizou, they both seem to have had a satisfactory year. The journalism club wishes to look over them to see what awaits them in high school.” -Yamamoto Koudai

[mask-of-prime]

Summary of Art - 2021

Sorry for basically using this to talk about how it's been a hell year but I can't be quiet about it (no, nothing you can do to help, I just think staying silent about my issues is stupid)

I didn't produce much art this year due to highly stressful events, like a major disagreement with friends whom I now feel very different about, moving houses on short notices to a very far away neighborhood that's miles away from stores, having a cherished 24-year-old plant be put down (for the stupidest reason, was too tall for the new house as it'd basically been a tree at that point), losing motivation to do art or have a personality because the voices of those aforementioned friends would make judgmental comments in the back of my mind (even when you know they're defensively bullshitting you, the words still cut just enough to question if they could be right about you), taking my first ever 4-credit college class (and honestly the first time I'd done online learning long after it'd been normalized), and losing energy at the end of the week from school so art wouldn't be made fast enough All of this made harder by the ever-worsening dysfunction of my family who really took advantage of living so far from anything that you can never just leave the house, as well as being cooped up in "quarantine" (which just isn't anything anymore, went from a simple and somewhat interesting 2-week lockdown to people being forced back to work or being stupid by questioning simple instructions and getting society sick all over again due to uncertainty and stirring the pot). All in all I feel like either hitting the reset button on life or just want to be invisible from existence (came pretty close to something much worse) If there's anything I am grateful about this year, it's that I'd met the sweetest little black mama cat (Luna) who had two black kittens (Shadow and Silhouette), the latter of which remain in my backyard while Luna left after she'd completed her caring and loving duty as a mother. When I watched Luna raise her kittens, I felt like I'd been watching a Disney movie; the way she played with them looked so wholesome and utopian the way they'd hop around in the grass together, every cat had a distinct appearance, mannerism, and personality. I'm unsure what the future holds for Shadow and Silhouette, they're strays (well, Shadow acts like the perfect pet and Silhouette seems feral as he's quite shy and plays a little rough with people's feet when hungry) Another thing I'm grateful for is the introduction to the show Arcane thanks to a friend who'd been into League of Legends (for its lore not its toxic tournaments lol) long before the show came out, and walked me through every detail before entering the show and after I had questions for it as I finished watching, it's incredibly detailed in visuals and story and every bit of its animation is stylized and choreographed to that of a music video, and it immediately made its spot as one of my top fandoms because of all the compatible aspects Art resolutions? Definitely find time to draw more (which... sounds easy), introduce some projects I'd been planning for the past few years, maybe post sketch dumps from old papers of mine every now and then to up the upload frequency and because there's some stuff I've always wanted to show you Life resolutions? Been fantasizing being alone doing my own thing for a while, should learn to drive and apply for a job and be more active in initiating hangouts with IRL friends, gotta find a way to be outside... maybe therapy of some kind if simply heading outside isn't enough :/ At least my goal to diversify from TLK art has been fulfilled, there's a whopping two non-TLK things in here but it actually doesn't do the rest of my gallery justice, I've diversified way more than that lol

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 9

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe

~^~

Sander is about to throw up, and it’s no surprise Lucas is laughing at him.

He huffs under his breath from the seat next to Sander, shaking his head as he leans up against the window. They’re already at the cafe Robbe had told Sander they’d be meeting at, have already been here for about fifteen minutes, and Sander is getting more and more antsy by the second. He expects Lucas to be irritated by now, but he seems too amused to be annoyed, bumping Sander’s jiggling leg with his own and giving a fond roll of his eyes.

Lucas doesn’t seem to share any of his nerves at all. He looks like the actual celebrity of this meeting, reclining in the strips of sunlight shining through the window. The silver bracelet on his left wrist and his collection of rings twinkle in it. His curls fall in an artsy mess over his forehead, and the top two buttons of his loose, silky, navy shirt are undone, exposing a triangle of pale skin and the sharp lines of his collarbones.

He looks ready for a night out, or to be the subject of one of his own photoshoots. Not like he’s meeting two relatively famous guys in a quiet, mainstreet cafe.

Sander is wearing a beige sweater with his leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. Bleached strands of hair keep dangling in his eyes, and he’s sure there are more sticking up on his head with how often he’s been shoving his hand through them. His lips are tingly from how often he’s been biting them.

He doesn’t look half as put together.

“Why were we so early?” Lucas questions. “They obviously aren’t as eager.”

“Because, there could have been traffic.”

“Twenty minutes of it?”

“Yes.”

Lucas stares at him for a moment then gives another huff, leaning back against the windowsill. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s a job interview,” Sander reminds him. “You’re not supposed to be late for those.”

Lucas holds his hands up in surrender, slouching further in his seat, one arm slung carelessly over the back and the other resting on the table.

Sander taps his foot and resumes his task of staring at the door, only to come face to face with Robbe.

Robbe.

Robbe Ijzermans, manager for musician Jens Stoffels, filmmaker extraordinaire, and love of Sander’s life. That Robbe. Is standing right in front of him.

Lucas kicks him under the table and Sander realises he should probably close his mouth.

Of course he’s gaping. How should he be expected to control himself in the face of an angel? Never in his life has he thought he would end up in the same room as Robbe, but now he’s right here. He stands barely a few feet away from Sander, his hand already resting on the back of the opposite chair. He’s smiling in faint amusement, top teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to hide it. He’s wearing his brown jacket, the one Sander has become familiar with through a year of following him on social media.

He looks more beautiful than Sander ever thought possible.

Even with Jens standing right behind him, flicking his gaze between Sander and Lucas with something suspiciously like nerves.

“Hi,” Lucas says, taking the leap and breaking the silence, instantly earning Jens and Robbe’s attention. “Are these seats alright?”

Robbe’s smile widens, turning friendly as he nods and pulls the seat out to sit down. “Yeah, this is good. Sorry, have we kept you waiting?”

Sander does his best to ignore how Robbe’s feet bump against his before the smaller boy fully settles with his coat thrown over the back of his chair. Sander shakes his head. “No,” he says softly.

Then Robbe turns his eyes on him and his smile widens even further. He sticks his hand out across the table as Jens slips behind him and settles in the seat across from Lucas, dropping his own coat on the windowsill and adjusting his beanie.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Robbe says, and after a moment Sander realises he’s supposed to shake his hand and return the greeting.

Even Robbe’s hands are beautiful. Small and slim, but strong around Sander’s. Sander holds on for a little longer than necessary. Robbe doesn’t seem to find it odd, still wearing the same smile when Sander snaps out of it enough to say, “You too.”

Robbe holds his hand out to Lucas, and Lucas shakes it easily, and Robbe seems pleased.

Then Jens mimics the gesture, holding his hand out to Lucas, and Lucas raises his brows and asks, “Is the beanie supposed to be a disguise?”

Jens stares at him for a second, then touches the hat on his head, then shakes his head and pulls it off, hastily brushing a hand through his hair. “No.” The single word comes out hoarse. Jens runs his hand through his hair again and clears his throat. “No, it’s just—just cold.”

Lucas hums. He has leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest—a clear indication that he won’t welcome that handshake. Sander bites the inside of his cheek and nudges Lucas’s leg under the table in a silent reminder of their deal. If Lucas behaves during the meeting, Sander will finally clear out the spare room in his flat and build the bed, so Lucas will no longer have to share his.

It doesn’t matter that it’s a win-win for them both for Sander to do it. Lucas is still the one being pissy about it, and Sander has simply used this to his advantage.

“You won’t get recognised here?” Lucas asks, still staring Jens down critically.

“Uh, everyone recognises me here. I live here,” Jens points out. Then he scratches the back of his neck. He seems like he wants to look away from Lucas and yet fear is holding him in place.

Sander resists the urge to drop his head into his hands.

“So you just walk around, wherever you want, not thinking there might be crazy fans or something?”

Jens huffs, smiling slightly now, amused but unsure if he’s allowed to be. “Who do you think I am?”

Lucas simply cocks his head. “I know what fangirls can be like.”

Sander chances a glance at Robbe, who is watching the interaction like a tennis match. He seems entertained, and not upset. Sander supposes he doesn’t have to shut Lucas up yet.

Jens’s smile widens slightly, and he leans on the table now, arms flopping over each other from elbows to hands. “Are you worried about me, or something?”

This is where things could begin to go downhill. Jens has evidently found his confidence, somewhere, and is teasing, as Lucas had claimed he was wont to do. Sander expects that Lucas will retaliate in kind.

Instead, Lucas frowns slightly, looking entirely serious as he leans himself on the table as well. “I’m worried for Sander and myself. Did you even consider that you could put Robbe in danger?”

Jens flushes slightly, shrinking back with a glance at his friend, before raising his brows at Lucas. “Are we supposed to be hiring you as bodyguard instead, or something?”

Now Lucas bristles.

Robbe sets a hand on Jens’s shoulder and squeezes, and Sander stares at the point of contact with something revolting in his gut. “Okay, speaking of hiring. Should we talk about why we’re here now that...most of us have been introduced?”

Jens slumps back in his seat with his gaze dropping and Robbe squeezes his shoulder again. Sander feels sick. He wishes he hadn’t asked Lucas to come. He wishes he’d asked Robbe if they could have a one-on-one meeting first. He wishes he’d approached Robbe on his own, any time in the past year, when he could have been open with his feelings and Robbe could have rejected him politely. Upfront.

Now he’s supposed to work with him. Professionally. A situation not made for personal feelings and affairs.

It’s just that, Robbe already seems detached from those rules, considering his multi-relationship with Jens. He has been so friendly with Sander since that first message. This had seemed like the perfect opportunity, for Sander to get close to and impress the other man at once.

Instead he’s watching Robbe smile so fondly at Jens that he expects to see heart eyes.

How is Sander supposed to gain his attention when a talented musician, whom Robbe has known for years, already dominates it?

“I can reassure you both too that Jens is right,” Robbe says quickly, when none of them respond to his question. He directs most of his attention to Lucas. “Everyone knows us and we know everyone. We chose this cafe too because it’s run by friends. Perfectly safe, I promise.”

Lucas pumps his eyebrows in acknowledgment and then leans back in his seat again, silenced for the moment. Sander is appeased by the realisation that he’s at least kind enough not to interrogate or argue with Robbe.

Sander clears his throat and tries not to falter as Robbe looks at him again. “So are there contracts, or something?”

“Uh, not yet,” Robbe flushes. “That’s something we could draw up together, a separate one for each of you depending on if you’re interested. But we really just want to discuss what you are interested in. If our ideas match up with yours. We’re not looking for any legally-binding, long-term commitments, just genuine collaborations. Something mutually beneficial.”

Lucas snorts, then seems apologetic for it as he flicks his gaze to Sander. Still, he has earned the attention of Jens again, so he says, “Because we should be grateful to work with someone of your status?”

Robbe frowns, now, and for the briefest moment Sander allows himself to hate his friend. Robbe seems to be searching for a response, already shaking his head, but it’s Jens who speaks up.

“Of course not. It’s no question that I’d be getting the most benefits from working with either of you. You might actually make me look good,” he jokes. He also looks so nervous that Sander considers he might not be joking.

Then he decides it’s probably just because Lucas has gone back to staring him down.

“Why don’t you look for actual modeling gigs?” Lucas presses. Sander detects a tiny bit of genuine curiosity under the accusation.

Jens licks his lips, shrugging slightly. “I have,” he admits. “And I did get some offers, a while ago, but they were either super weird or pure monopoly or both. That’s not the kind of thing I want. The work you do...it’s genuine.”

This makes Lucas pause. “Genuine?”

Sander should have known. He would never get a chance to speak to Robbe like this. He is, however, getting the chance to stare at him in peace. He takes in those soft curls, doe eyes, pouty lips, as Robbe remains oblivious, returned to the tennis match next to them.

“Yeah. I mean, you actually have a passion for it. You have to, to do something self-run like that, I know. It’s obvious you have your own vision, your own ideas, your own vibe, and you’re dedicated. Self-made, like me. And I mean, you use recycled clothing and everything, right? And you base yourself on it. You don’t try to come off as expensive or whatever. You just do you. And that, I mean you—you’re crazy fucking talented to top it off.”

The silence that follows this little speech is rather loud. Enough so to make Jens embarrassed, at least, as he scratches at the back of his neck again and colour floods his cheeks. He had even managed to draw Sander’s attention away from Robbe and his growing grin, too surprised to ignore it any longer, and while that seems the most impossible thing, Jens has also gone a step further.

He has rendered Lucas entirely speechless.

Sander watches his friend as he simply blinks, staring at Jens with parted lips, utterly absent of any comebacks. There might even be a little red in his cheeks. Sander has learned recently that Lucas is weird about semi-famous musicians, but he’s always been aware of Lucas’s inability to take compliments.

Mixing the two seems to have broken him.

Robbe pinches Jens’s cheek and Sander’s attention snaps back to him, takes in his wide grin and the teasing glint in his eyes, and feels the touch pinch at his own heart. “Bet you didn’t think to worry that Jens himself is the stalker,” Robbe says to Lucas.

Jens bats him away with an ease borne only by familiarity. Sander wants to climb across the table and settle himself between them and find out what that touch feels like. Take it for himself. Become that familiar.

The more distant Robbe seems, the more Sander wants.

He wants this. Exactly this. Robbe’s warm smile and easy touch, his familiarity and his fondness. He wants it. He wants what very clearly isn’t his.

He wants to leave. He wants the floor to swallow him whole.

Where has his confidence gone? His surety? All this time, he has known. From somewhere deep down, from an inexplicable place, he’s felt it. There’s something about Robbe that speaks to him. That reels him in. That is made especially for Sander.

He can feel it. Has always felt in. Even now it’s there, a force he can’t ignore, holding him in Robbe’s orbit.

Robbe isn’t even looking at him.

Still, Sander feels completely unmoored.

Oddly enough, Lucas seems to be in the same boat.

He’s still staring at Jens, at a loss, and Sander is becoming more and more concerned by the minute. Lucas isn’t usually one to struggle with finding words, or to hold back, but now he seems to be doing both. Eventually, he comes up with, “Are you interested in fashion?”

Sander looks at Jens’s hoodie and jeans combo and barely holds back a snort.

Robbe doesn’t bother to, but he then covers his mouth with his hand and shares a look with Sander. Cheeks dimpled, eyes twinkling, faintly apologetic. Sander’s heart flutters and flops in his chest.

Jens flushes in response. “I might not be an artist the same way that you are, but I know something good when I see it. And your work is good.”

Lucas seems to falter again. Then he gathers himself. “But you’re not actually interested in any of it,” he presses. “So why are you so set on working with me?”

“I believe in taking a shot.” Jens shrugs, even as his blush deepens and he sinks down in his seat. “Seizing every opportunity.”

“So it’s about the money,” Lucas says.

Jens instantly shakes his head. “No. It has nothing to do with that. None of this does. I don’t make music for money in the first place. It’s not about that or publicity or whatever else you’re thinking.” He pauses for a moment, then glances at Robbe, who gives him an encouraging nod. Jens nods back, swallows, and leans towards Lucas again, resting on the table. “It is about building myself. I won’t deny that. I want to be able to make a successful career out of music, and deals like this benefit that. Promotional shit, branching out. I never really wanted to do any of that, because I hate all these business politics and contracts and shares or whatever the fuck everyone looks for. I didn’t want to work with anyone who just did it to do it. I try to be as honest as I can with everything I do and I want to work with people who have the same values. I saw that in you.” He spares a glance towards Sander. “Both of you.”

Sander smiles, shooting a look at Lucas as he places a hand over his heart. “It’s nice to be included.”

Lucas’s lips twitch as Jens begins to stutter, but Robbe interrupts by leaning up next to him. Towards Sander.

Robbe smiles, placating, instantly grabbing all of his attention with his sweet expression. “Sorry,” he laughs slightly. “We just assumed Lucas would want more convincing. Jens spent a lot of time preparing his pitch.”

Jens slumps back in his chair and mutters, “That’s not true.”

Sander hears Lucas huff, but it’s Robbe’s fond smile he’s once again focused on. Robbe directs the smile back over his shoulder, at Jens, and teases, “No, of course not. It’s just natural charm.”

“And it’s very cruel of you to suggest otherwise,” Jens agrees, relaxing a little now as his lips finally twitch in a smile. He shoots a glance at Lucas. “Is it working?”

Sander finally offers his own friend some more attention, though not all of it. He still has a little focus on Robbe, out of the corner of his eye. He can’t quite draw himself away completely. The longer he looks, the harder it gets.

Everything becomes more desirable, he supposes, when you realise it’s something you can’t have.

Lucas bites his lip and looks to Sander, who simply raises his brows. It’s answer enough to him, makes him sure that it is working, and Lucas just doesn’t want to admit it, to any of them. He lets a heavy breath out through his nose and turns to Robbe. “I guess it wouldn’t do any harm to discuss what the deal would entail.”

Sander knows it’s already a yes, and going by Jens’s grin, he does too. He supposes getting Lucas to agree to that much either way is a win in itself.

Jens and Robbe both certainly take it as one, growing relieved and twice as friendly all at once. Robbe immediately goes into a spiel over the main details, rhyming off what they’d expect and what they’re offering in return with only a few questioning glances towards Jens here and there. From what Sander gathers, they’re ready to pay him to help out with Jens’s promotional work, but the situation with Lucas is somewhat more complicated.

“No, I get that,” Lucas admits. “If you were asking me to design something specifically for you then it would be different, but if it’s just to promote my line then I’m usually the one doing the hiring and paying.”

Robbe nods, suddenly all business. Sander shouldn’t find it as endearing or attractive as he does, especially considering he has already had a number of conversations with Robbe in this exact fashion.

All their conversations have been for business, Sander supposes, or just Robbe being nice. Buttering up a potential coworker.

Sander shoves the thought away and swallows down the bitterness that comes with it.

“We get if that doesn’t exactly help our appeal,” Robbe assures Lucas. He spares one of his glances towards Jens. “Which is why we were actually interested in asking you to design something for us. Not really anything out of your usual, but just with a small addition that would signify Jens. It would only have to be a couple of items. I’m sure Sander is capable of working some photo magic and getting a bunch of great shots out of one outfit.”

Sander lets the compliment seep through him, accepts Robbe’s smile with one of his own as warmth spreads through his chest and softens him up. It’s impossible not to like Robbe when he says things like this, looking like that.

Lucas seems more hesitant. “I usually do my own shoots. Unless I’m modeling it myself or doing a collaboration.” He gestures at Sander.

Jens perks up again. “Wait. So most of the pics on your page, they’re your own?”

Lucas looks to him with a raised brow, faintly amused. As subtle as it is, it’s a stark shift from his earlier indifference that had bordered on irritation. “In all your stalking you didn’t see the ‘photographer’ description in my bio?”

“Uh, no,” Jens admits. “I kind of zoned that bit out, I guess.”

“So really, you could just hire me,” Lucas says, shooting Sander one of his cheekiest smiles.

“No,” Robbe admonishes, still smiling, turning placatingly to Sander again. “We’re super happy to work with you both. There’s no problem with splitting the photography load, Lucas, if you want to do your own. We’re hiring Sander in the first place for the promotional work for the album, after all.”

“Are you releasing an actual album?” Sander questions, impressed. So far, Jens had released a couple of singles and an EP, but less than ten songs overall. An album could be double that.

Jens smiles slightly, nodding. “That’s why we’re reaching out right now, yeah. Months of writing and recording and other behind the scenes shit finally getting to the stage where we have something to promote,” he huffs.

“Nice,” Sander approves. He might be dealing with a rather intense level of jealousy over the other man, but he can’t deny such an achievement. Sander has always been a music lover himself. He found Robbe through Jens, after all.

“We’ll get some sneak previews of it,” Robbe grins, sitting back to nudge Jens’s side. It’s clear that he’s already had a front row seat to all of it. He turns back to Sander and Lucas with an even wider smile. “It’s amazing, honestly.”

Jens flushes, nudging him back, starting a mini battle between them, and something hot and sharp spikes in Sander’s stomach.

He tosses his arm over the back of Lucas’s chair and smirks, trying to regain some of his usual cool, trying to convince himself to speak. “Lucas hasn’t heard any of it.”

Robbe blinks, surprised as he looks to Lucas, and Sander suddenly regrets speaking without focusing the attention on himself.

Jens seems disappointed, but he brushes it off with professional grace. “Not everyone has,” he says simply, offering a smile that looks somewhat tight.

Lucas’s lips work for a second as he shoots Sander a dark glare, and he argues, “I hadn’t before, but I have listened to it.”

Jens brightens, leaning forward and tilting his head. “Which song?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas raises a brow. “I said I’ve listened to it.”

It takes a moment for understanding to sink in, and then Jens’s eyes widen, pleased. “All of it?”

“When?” Sander demands, equally surprised.

“Last night. You only have eight songs on your Spotify, it didn’t take long.” Lucas looks between them all, Sander’s amusement and Jens’s delight and Robbe’s gentle smile, and blushes. “What? I wanted to see if it was the kind of vibe I was even interested in working with.” He focuses in on Jens. “You’re not the only one capable of doing your research.”

Jens grins. “I’m flattered.”

Sander snorts, tugging at the back of Lucas’s hair, and Lucas brushes him away as his blush begins to fade. He’s saved from any further embarrassment by the buzz of his phone, which he pulls out and only gives a brief glance at before stiffening.

He curses under his breath and looks at Sander apologetically before showing him the screen. It takes a moment for Sander to make out the message, a request to call Lucas, and then another to notice the contact. Lucas’s mother only reaches out in such a way when she deems it a last resort. “I have to go handle this,” he says quietly, and Sander nods, knowing he couldn’t possibly have the heart to argue.

“You’re leaving already?” Jens questions, even more disappointed than before.

Lucas offers them both a smile that’s more a simple pursing of lips. “Sorry, really. Family emergency. But I’m interested, in working with you. Sander can pass on whatever details you all work out. Is that okay?”

Robbe instantly nods, smile soft and understanding. “Of course. We can contact you directly if there’s anything important?”

Lucas murmurs an agreement, then stuffs his phone in his pocket and turns back to Sander. He presses an apologetic kiss to his cheek, giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze as he stands and lifts his denim jacket from the back of his chair. He offers Robbe and Jens another brief glance. “It was nice to meet you both, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

They both nod, and Robbe returns Lucas’s goodbye, watching after him as he shrugs on his jacket and heads for the door. Jens, however, lingers on Sander and the spot Lucas had vacated until Sander catches his gaze and he hastily looks away.

Robbe turns back to them and raps his hands on the table, then reaches up to squeeze Jens’s shoulder. “Okay. How about we discuss the rest over actual food? You look in need of some fries.”

“And a burger,” Jens agrees.

Robbe huffs and raises a brow at Sander, tilting his head towards the counter. “Do you want to come order with me?”

“Oh.” Sander blinks. They’ve been sitting here long enough now that he should be accustomed to Robbe’s smile already. He’s been looking at it for a year before now. It shouldn’t throw him the way it does. It’s not so surprising that the offer to have a moment with Robbe alone makes his stomach flip. “Yeah, sure.”

Robbe’s smile widens as he twists his legs out from under the table, but Jens catches his arm before he can get up. Sander has already risen, and he lingers next to the table awkwardly, watching how easily Robbe succumbs to the touch, leaning back towards the musician like a moth called to a flame. He keeps watching as Robbe leans right in, tilting their heads together, and Jens whispers something quiet that makes him flush, shaking his head with a tiny laugh before he gets up along with Sander.

Robbe doesn’t even look at him on the way to the counter, and then he rests on the wood and keeps his gaze forward with his smile still in place. It would be fine, normal, for Robbe not to be looking, if Sander was able to draw his own gaze away. But he’s staring, blatantly, and he thinks Robbe’s flush may have darkened slightly, but he hasn’t given any real indication that he has even noticed.

Sander might as well still be looking at him through a screen.

The realisation hits very suddenly that he isn’t, because he realises he can feel him. Robbe’s presence next to him is a tangible thing, radiating warmth. There’s a faint scent wafting from him and invading Sander’s senses, a mixture of an aftershave Sander recognises and something else intrinsically Robbe. Sander wants to get closer and figure out what it is, breath him in until he can call up the smell from memory. He wants too much. All things he’s quickly realising he can’t have.

He urges himself to say something now, to take this one big chance, to make an impression. To leave an imprint, at the very least.

Robbe beats him to it.

“Sorry, really,” he says, finally turning to look at Sander with a sheepish smile. “This probably wasn’t what you were expecting to get out of the meeting.”

Sander hadn’t really been expecting anything, but he’s been wanting. All he ever wanted to get out of this was Robbe. He doesn’t care about the job, the contracts, the money. He cares about the harsh thump of his heart, the raucous roar of his pulse, the yearning stemming straight from his soul at the mere sight of those eyes on him.

It’s ridiculous and impossible, to have feelings like this for someone he doesn’t even know. But he knows Robbe in a way that doesn’t require any actual knowledge, any facts or details, interactions or memories. Sander’s very being recognises Robbe, responds to the light buried in the man’s chest with a hopeful flicker of its own.

It leaves Sander swallowing down the ball of emotion in his throat before he can manage to smile, shrug, and speak. “It’s not over yet. Anyway, it was weirdly entertaining to watch Lucas slowly realise he was running out of arguments.”

Robbe huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve seen Jens determined, but that was something else,” he agrees. “I don’t really know what’s up with the whole thing, but I think he’s just really worried, you know? The album feels like the actual start of things and he’s just constantly thinking of what could go wrong, I guess.”

“So is this almost like a distraction, or something?” Sander asks, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to keep Robbe talking to him.

“Maybe,” Robbe hums, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to Sander with another smile. “I’m happy about it either way.”

Sander blinks, heart racing. He tells himself he shouldn’t ask. “You are?”

Robbe shrugs, smile widening. “Of course. More fun and less stress in my future now, too.”

“Really? I would’ve thought all this organising and hiring and everything is more work for you.”

“Well, maybe it is.” Robbe shrugs again, crossing his arms over each other atop the counter. “But you and Lucas don’t seem like you’ll make it difficult.”

“Lucas doesn’t seem difficult?” Sander raises his brows.

Robbe laughs, then raises his brows back, pursing his lips and widening his eyes in an exaggerated expression of exasperation. “No more so than Jens.”

Sander’s humorous mood slips and leaves him biting his lip. “You do a lot for him,” he says, and it’s as much a question as a statement.

“Yeah, well, like I said. He needs a little guidance sometimes.” Robbe grins. “He’s not that difficult, most of the time, and even then he’s still Jens. I know what he’s like and what to expect, which I guess is more than most people can say honestly.”

They could leave it there. Sander has no reason to push any further. He doesn’t even know what he’s pushing for. “And it never bothers you? That idea of his fame?”

Robbe shrugs, biting his lip. “He deserves it, and I know he’d never leave me behind, so. It’s a little scary sometimes, because it involves working with a lot of scary people and having even scarier fans sometimes, but,” he pauses, glancing over his shoulder again. His face softens completely, eyes brimming over with it, and Sander’s heart crawls into his throat and threatens to choke him. Robbe turns back to him with the faintest but warmest smile. “But I love him, so.”

Sander’s heart splinters. A jagged piece cuts through his vocal chords, rendering him momentarily speechless, before everything clatters uselessly back into his chest and leaves him offering an empty smile. He tells himself that it’s no different. He could say he loves Lucas, and it wouldn’t mean anything heartbreaking.

But when Robbe says it, that’s how it feels. Robbe says it like he means it.

Robbe says it in the way Sander hoped he’d one day say it about him.

He’s saved from having to answer when a cashier finally makes her way over to them and apologizes for the delay. Sander can barely acknowledge her, but Robbe offers an easy smile and places his and Jens’s orders, and then turns to Sander. Sander fumbles out something and now finds himself entirely unable to look at Robbe.

He’s only able to once Robbe pats his pockets and then curses under his breath, blushing slightly as he glances at Sander from underneath his lashes. “Forgot that my wallet’s in my jacket.”

Sander just gives a gentle huff and a smile as Robbe walks back to the table. Jens looks up at him with furrowed brows, then laughs and sets his hand on Robbe’s arm, saying something as he rises from his seat. Robbe rolls his eyes, but drops back into his seat as Jens squeezes his shoulder and slips out around him, coming to join Sander at the till.

Sander quickly looks straight ahead again, even as Jens attempts to offer him a smile. He’s a lot taller than Sander expected, and he hates how small it makes him feel. He suddenly understands what Lucas has been warning him about.

“Sorry, about not even introducing myself properly,” Jens says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Sander glances at him. “That’s fine. I mean, I know who you are, so.”

Jens huffs a laugh, nodding in acceptance. “Okay, cool. I promise I’ll be more into it now. I don’t actually know why I was so nervous,” he laughs again, nervously. “It’s just, meetings. Professional shit. Professional people.”

Sander’s lips twitch. He doesn’t like it, but he likes Jens. He always has. He can’t quite bring himself to be angry or anything close, but jealousy still rages in him. “Not your thing?”

“Nope,” Jens admits with an easy shrug. “I usually let Robbe do the talking. He’s better with the whole people thing. Friendly.”

“Yeah,” Sander agrees, quietly. “I can see that.”

Jens’s lips purse, and then he’s bumping Sander’s shoulder with his own. “I think we’re more alike. You didn’t really seem to mind Lucas taking over the talking. You were pretty quiet.”

Sander shakes his head. “Usually I’m not, but I was nervous, too, I guess. And tired.”

“Not settled in yet?” Jens questions, brows furrowed.

“Not really,” Sander huffs. “Lucas is a restless sleeper.”

“Oh.” Something unreadable takes over Jens’s expression for a second, and then he looks away. For a moment he’s silent, and Sander thinks that’s it, but then Jens swallows and purses his lips and speaks again. “I didn’t realise you were together.”

For a split second, Sander is confused. Then he realises what Jens means, what he thinks Sander implied, and then he wants to laugh. He should laugh. Because it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, that it is actually funny, and Sander should clear things up immediately.

But.

Everything becomes more desirable when you realise it’s something you can’t have.

He stares at Jens blankly, then with a furrowed brow and parted lips, and then the cashier returns with their food. Jens pays for everything before looking back at Sander questioningly, and then Sander does the really stupid thing.

He says, “Oh, yeah.”

~^~

next chapter

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.5

Pt.1  Pt.2  Pt.3  Pt.4  Pt.5  Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, angst, secret relationship plot, kinda royal au, arranged marriage plot, fighting

a/n: Hope everyone is doing well. Here is the second to last part. I’m going to upload the final part right after I upload this one. Just so y’all aren’t waiting for the resolve :)

Word count: 1.7K

Loki x female!reader

Feeling the pebbles roll under your feet, you felt your legs begin to shake with anticipation and dread. The panic that you were holding off while with Loki was beginning to come back and you wanted to turn and run the other way. You knew you needed to do this and finally come clean to your parents but the idea was just so awful you wanted to run and hide away forever. 

Before you knew it you were standing out front of your childhood home feeling a bubble of unease build in your throat. Breathing deep and exhaling hard, you put your hand on the doorknob and stepped inside your home. Your family once again sitting at the dining table talking amongst one another.

There was someone you didn’t recognize sitting in what was normally your seat. You felt the energy shift around you and suddenly you felt something worse than panic settle in your gut.

“Y/N, there you are! We were so worried when you didn’t come home last night. You haven’t done that in a while. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Your mother rose from her chair, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. Your father looked at you with disdain on his features, obviously trying to figure out where you were in the night.

“Glad to know you’re alright, Y/N. Come sit down and meet who we think might be a perfect suitor for you.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. You felt your face get hot and your emotions were mixing with intense anger and despondency. You didn’t want to have to fake interaction with someone you knew nothing about let alone didn’t care learning about. It would be adulterous to Loki and you couldn’t bear the thought of engaging in such horror. You found your courage and finally decided to put your foot down in this situation.

“Actually, that is what I was coming to talk to you guys about. I found someone. I have for over a year now.”

“What?! Y/N that’s amazing but why haven’t you told us anything.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up in curiosity wondering why you were so private with something that was causing you such trouble. 

“I’ve been fearful of your reaction to whom it is I have found boundless love with.”

Your father’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion waiting for you to continue your declaration. Your mother on the other hand was just overjoyed that her dearest daughter had found somebody. You opened your mouth again before your mother cut you off,

“Well, what’s his name? I want to know everything about him!”

You sighed, the next words you had to speak feeling like lead on your tongue. 

“Y-you know the all-father?”

“Y/N! Are you courting Thor??”

Your father tapped your mother’s hand in discipline,

“Let her speak and you will find out. Stop interrupting her”

You sighed again, playing with your fingers out of anxiety about what you were about to say next.

“I-it’s actually his brother. Loki.”

The air became suffocating. Loki’s name always putting a sour thought in people’s minds because of his notorious behavior. You felt the excitement in the air turn to disappointment and rotted curiosity. 

“We met in one of the gardens a year ago and something about us was magnetic and drew us together. We started out with a friendship and a few months in he asked if courtship would be a viable option to further our relationship. I said yes reluctantly because I feared your responses so deeply.”

You decided to lay it out all on the table hoping that maybe it would persuade their opinion of someone that they felt so little for.

“He cares for me with such truth. I’ve never felt this with anyone before and the way that he understands me makes me feel like I have finally been found. He loves me with such ardor that I feel complete finally. All that was thought of him is something of the past. He has matured indefinitely and the feelings I have formed for him are incessant and I can’t let that go.”

Finally letting out all the extra air in your lungs you felt such a weight lifted off your chest. You still feared what their answer would be regarding their approval but they knew now. If they cared for you like they said they did they would be able to see your admiration for your current partner. And you hoped that would be enough to not have your parents strip that from you.

“Y/N...of all the people you could have chosen. That treacherous excuse for a god is where you let your feelings reside?!”

Your father’s response made you feel sick. This is exactly what you were predicting what would happen. But your mother was unusually silent. Her eyes drifted off to space on the floor and it was difficult to read what she was thinking of. Your father stood up from his chair and spoke again, his voice thick with dismay.

“Loki?! How could you let yourself stoop so low? He’s nothing but a troublemaker and you for some reason have become so weak to fall for him. Where did I go wrong wit-?”

“-Alright that’s enough, dear.”

Your mother finally spoke up and cut your father off. He looked at her incredulously and at that moment you began to feel such regret for the man that was still stuck at the table. Falling victim to the conflict between you and your parents. Your mother spoke again,

“Maybe, just maybe dear, we were wrong about him. Our daughter is not a halfwit. She has such a powerful mind and she has waited this long to find a suitor for her to make her happy. Perhaps we should give them our blessing. If she’s happy then that is all that matters. It is not our life to live.”

“No! I cannot and will not allow that dope to spoil our daughter. Let alone create a family with him. I don’t care how luxurious that tower it is you stay in with him but get your last visit in-”

“Father.-”

“This is non-negotiable. My heels have been dug-”

“Father, I may bear his child.”

The silence that fell over the room was deafening. You could hear the rise and fall of each person’s breath and it was haunting. You hadn’t yet known if this was a possibility but with the night's previous endeavors, it wasn’t a shot in the dark. It was your last-ditch effort and you were willing to do anything to keep Loki in your life.

“You what?”

Your father stepped closer to you trying to find the lie in your demeanor but it was never found. 

“Dear, please do not chastise her. What is done is done. We must give the blessing now. Child out of wedlock is not something I want to be stained on our or his family's name.”

Your mother stood up and came to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to sit down at the table. Wrapping her hands around yours she spoke with such serene.

“My Y/N. You are like an untamed bull. Your headstrong nature will catch up to you one day but with that being said. I am more than happy that you have finally found your person. If he treats you as well as you say he does then that is all I can ask from him. I can only hope to meet him soon and that he knows he is welcome in our home. The blessing you seek is already had.”

“Says who?”

Your father chimed in

“She needs both of our blessings to go through with his eloping and as far as I am concerned. I have yet to give her the go-ahead. I am not giving away my daughter to someone who has yet to show truth and consistency in something other than mischief. I will not allow it! And that’s final!”

The tears that were once falling in joy were now falling down hot in fear. 

Why must he be like this? My happiness matters too.

Pointing to the man at the table your father spoke through gritted teeth and told him to get out. He had no business being there anymore anyway. And with the direction the conversation was going, it wouldn’t be fair to have him in the mix.  

“As for you. You aren’t to see that man again.”

“No! Dad, wait! You can’t do this. Please, he’s the only person outside of you guys who has seen me for me! Please do not take that away from me!”

Your heart was doing backflips in your chest and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that you had built up was beginning to crumble. 

“You aren’t to see him until my mind is made. I’m beyond disappointed in you and at the root of it all, I am unsure of what to think.”

“Dear if she is to be with chi-”

“I KNOW! But that doesn't mean I feel any different towards the bastard. For all I know he took advantage of her, knowing her situation and now we're stuck with the consequence.”

“Father, it’s not like that I swear!”

“Enough! You have said enough today.”

Removing your hands from your mother's, you hung your head in your hands. The tears now overflowing as you hit your breaking point. 

“Your tears will not alter my decision any faster so you can give that a rest, Y/N.”

Standing up from the chair you were overcome with anger. Your voice was meek because of all the pressure built up in your throat but you made sure to make your point delivered. 

“If you ever pretended to care about half as much as you say you do, all those snarky remarks you make would be void. You cannot control me forever. If you loved me outwardly half as much as you say you do, you would’ve listened to me, but you never did.”

Walking toward your bedroom you couldn’t bear to speak anymore or be in the environment of the main room. It was deadly and you needed to rest. Closing the door you flopped on your bed. Hot tears falling down your cheeks and absorbing into your hair that was splayed out underneath you. You moved up to the top of your bed and hugged your pillow, pretending it was someone else to provide you with comfort. You sniffled and your eyes became heavy and you drifted off to sleep. The energy completely stripped from you.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @mad4marvelloki​ @lightmelikeamatch​

[satan-ruler-of-hells]

The Only Exception (2)

Holy crap yall I did it!!!! Part 2 is here finally and finished. A huge huge thanks to Pies and Noodles whom without this would still be stuck in drafts somewhere probably never to be completed. You guys are the absolute best! 

Tagging: @pies-writes-and-more @thisnoodlewritesao3 @dickbutt-queen

Part 1

 At least for about a week, you should've known your luck wouldn't hold out as when you got back to your dorm, Ushijima was waiting for you. 

  You slowed to a stop a few feet away from him, " Did we have a study session? I'm sorry we can reschedule but I'm tired and plus it's late-"

"You've been avoiding me." 

He cut you off looking up at you,  the look on his face stopped whatever excuse you had come up with. He looked rough, the dark circles under his eyes, though barely noticeable stood out like neon signs to you, probably staying up late practicing. Your throat felt tight, you gestured to the door inviting him in, as private as Ushijima was you knew this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in the hallway. The silence that filled the small room was deafening and for once you had no idea what to say.

"Did I do something wrong?" You don't think you've ever heard him sound so soft, so unsure of himself and your chest tightened painfully. You resisted the urge to go over and hug him,  deciding instead to wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to hold both you, and your emotions, together. 

"No, Ushijima you did nothing wrong I've just been busy-" 

"Don't lie to me please. You've been avoiding me and I'd like to know why." 

"I've been studying."

"No. "

"Cheerleading practice has left me exhausted."

"No."

"Filling out college applications is very time consuming."

"No. "

"What do you want me to say!?" Even you could hear the desperation in your voice and tears filled your eyes. You looked at the floor biting your lip to keep from sobbing. His hands gently grabbed your chin, pulling your eyes up to meet his and it felt like he was looking straight through you to your soul. 

"Just tell me the truth. That's all." 

You stepped back wiping your face of the few tears that managed to escape. 

"Fine, you want the truth? How about every time I see you my stomach starts doing cartwheels and my heart feels like it might beat out of its chest. I'm almost entirely convinced that I've never felt more safe than when your arms are wrapped around me and the sound of your voice is the most calming thing I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. I can’t sleep at night unless I've heard from you and my dreams are filled with you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and it terrifies me.” The last part comes out as a whisper and you’re unable to keep the tears from free falling, you're not sure how it happens but you end up pressed into Ushijima’s chest sobbing. He doesn’t say anything, just hugs you tight rubbing soothing circles into your back.

 You stay that way until the tears stop falling and then some. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is completely strained and though you know you should, because his shirt is soaked and a million other reasons, step away you can’t bring yourself to move, not yet. 

“What for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

 You could practically see the burrow in his brow and the genuine confusion in his voice almost made you smile. Ushijima Wakatoshi, reliable and unwavering, even when everything around him changes, he stays the same. He pulled back wiping your face with a gentleness you’d never seen from him and looked into your eyes, like he was looking for something. 

“I love you, I want you to know that, despite what may or may not happen you deserve to know. I know you’re scared, and I would never ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But think about it, please?” You don’t recall ever hearing Ushijima saying that much at one time and it left you speechless but you hesitantly nodded your agreement. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead hugging you once more before leaving, the door shutting behind him with a soft click. 

You don’t remember falling asleep but the next morning your head was pounding and there was an increasingly familiar ache in your chest. You'd never been more thankful for a Saturday in your life because you had plans of never leaving this room again, much less your bed. It felt like you had been hit by a train, or maybe caught one of Ushijimas spikes to the chest. Just thinking about him sent a new wave of pain through your entire body and you kept replaying his words to you last night in your head. He’d said the word so casually, like it was easy. One of your favorite things about Ushi was that he didn’t sugarcoat anything and has never lied to you. Your heart knew this, your head was not as easily persuaded.

A knock at the door startled you out of your thoughts, you contemplated getting out of bed or just pretending you were still asleep ultimately deciding on the former. Opening the door you couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at your lips, seeing a still sleepy Tendou with a bag full of both of your favorite snacks and Shonen Jump. You almost immediately launched yourself at him wrapping your whole body around him, he caught you easily and hugged you just as tight. 

“You’re an idiot you do know that right?” his voice was muffled but you knew he was smiling.

“I missed you too Satori.” and you truly had. The hole that was left from not being around your best friend was bigger than you anticipated, like you’d lost a limb. Having him here you almost felt whole, if not for the gaping hole in your chest. He walked the both of you inside, shutting the door behind him, you weren’t ready to let go of him quite yet, setting everything down on your desk to embrace you fully.

 You don’t know how long the two of you sat there before you finally let him put you down and you just talked about any and everything you’d missed in your period of self isolation. You were grateful that he avoided talking about Ushijima or anything relating to him, you were almost able to completely ignore the ache in your chest. You’d nearly forgotten just how much Tendou’s mere presence helped calm you, as wild as he was he was still a crucial part to you maintaining your sanity. 

The sun had been down for hours, the light of the full moon filled your room before Tendou finally decided to bring up the elephant in the room.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened or are you gonna go back to avoiding me and anything that has to do with feelings?” He said it with a grin, you shot him a look and nudged his shoulder playfully.

“I said I was sorry.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you off easy, I missed having you and your emotionally constipated self around. Plus it’s boring being the only crazy one.” You shared a laugh rolling your eyes, his face turning slightly more serious and you could see the concern in his eyes. So you told him everything, from your childhood (something Tendou had only heard bits and pieces of himself) the night you’d told Ushijima all the way up to his confession last night. You didn’t realize you’d started crying again until Tendou wiped them away and passed you the tissues. 

“I know he wouldn’t lie to me, Ushijima doesn’t lie or sugarcoat or hold back. I’m just scared.” You sniffled, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone Tendou and I don’t want to ruin anything. I can’t imagine him not being in my life, it’s like he’s always been there and when he’s not around it hurts.”

“Yeah sweetheart that’s what happens when you fall in love with someone.” he brushed a piece of hair out of your face,” Plus look at it this way, it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him ok? Talk to him, tell him everything and just see where it goes. The only way you could lose him is by shutting him out. Ushijima, the man who literally never speaks, told you he loved you. That doesn’t sound like somebody who’s in a hurry to let you go.”

Tendou changed the course of the conversation soon after, but his words still played over in your head well after he had fallen asleep. You covered him with a blanket quietly picking up all the discarded food wrappers and trash from around your bed before squishing yourself next to him in the bed. You’d forgotten in the past few weeks just how big Tendou really was despite his lanky frame, but his height more than made up for it. Still you slept more soundly that night than you had in weeks, comforted by the fact that whatever happened you’d always have the privilege of being loved by Tendou Satori.

It was nearly two weeks later before you found yourself pacing anxiously outside the gym one night, long after practice had ended. With Nationals coming up you knew this would be the best place to find Ushijima, for as long as you’d known him he always put in even more extra practice in this time of year.

 Wrapped up in your own thoughts and anxieties, you failed to realize the sounds of a volleyball connecting with the floor had silenced completely and Ushijima was leaning against the door to the gym. Hearing him clear his throat you stopped dead in your tracks, face flushing a bright crimson as you turned to face him.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, Ushijima raised an eyebrow motioning for you to come inside. You couldn’t help the way your heart raced and for the first time in two weeks the ache in your chest receded.  Despite the fact you’d rehearsed this conversation in your head a million times, something about him always made you lose your focus, his scent, his presence, everything about him. His eyes met yours and it was like Ushijima stole the breath out of your lungs, this beautiful, perfect man loved you. How did you ever get so lucky?

“I’m sorry it took me so long, I didn’t know what to say for a while. Then when I did figure it out, I didn’t know how to actually say it. If I’m being completely honest I still don’t, but I want to try.” You swallowed thickly but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Ushijima looked at you with no expectations, no delusions, he just saw you. For everything that you were, the pretty and the ugly, he had seen it all and he was still looking at you like you single handedly put the stars in the sky. (Or like you’d invented volleyball, in your defense you’ve never seen the man look at anything like this before.) For the first time in your life you felt seen, not only that but you, for the first time in your life wanted to believe that happy endings could exist.

It was like he knew you were struggling, then again didn’t he always? Because he smiled that smile that never failed to cause the butterflies in your stomach to make a fuss, like he was encouraging you to continue. With that smile you’d walk through fire for him if it would make it last even a second longer. 

“I want to see where this goes, because to be honest I don’t know how much longer I can keep lying to myself about how I feel. I want to be around you all the time and when you’re not there it’s like a piece of me is missing. That terrifies me and excites me but for you I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let myself fall for someone but you make me want to jump. Before you it was easy to keep a comfortable distance, keep people at arms length, and that I was ok being alone because it wasn’t worth hitting the ground. I can’t let go of what we have here, whatever it is, because I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You looked away for the first time since you started speaking to him, the next part coming out as nothing but a whisper, “I hope you’ll catch me, because I think I might be in love with you.”

Ushijima must’ve heard you, next thing you knew he had you wrapped up in his arms hugging you close. 

“I’ll never let you hit the ground.”

 His voice so close to your ear sent tingles down your spine, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours. You still didn’t know if you believed in happy endings but at this moment, you were willing to start.

[vegalocity]

The Tinkerer (Red Groom AU)

It took me a hot second to decide who i wanted to be Miracle Max because there was no way I WASN'T gonna put that scene in this AU

I decided on Syntax bc the other spiders haven't shown up yet and so why not

--

The house was little more than a glorified workshop; there were shelves of research notes and half finished odds and ends puled up on an open wall near the back, and Xiaojiao was unsure of whether they should be approaching the front door or coming in through the workshop area. Especially since the front door had a very clear 'No Longer In Business' sign hanging from it.

All the same it seemed like Sandy had all the confidence in the world in this 'Tinkerer' as he was known. As his usual grin didn't waver as he shifted his grip on the Not-Monkey King's body and approached the front door. Xiaojiao fell into step beside him of course, and upon Sandy's polite knock stationed herself between her friend and the question of what will be coming next.

A small peek window opened and Xiaojiao was suddenly making eye contact with a pair of very bright green eyes, nearly bioluminescent in their vibrancy, surrounded by a pale purple complexion not unlike the late Spider Queen's.

“We're closed.” The Demon stated firmly.

“Are you The Tinkerer?” She asked in reply.

The demon at the door snarled with a mouth of sharp teeth. “I was. And thank you for reminding me of what that wretched Prince did to my reputation, Why don't you throw a handful of dirt in my face while you're at it! Scram.” he shut the peek window. And Xiaojiao was far less polite when she knocked.

“I said beat it! Or I'm calling the brute squad.” The Tinkerer opened the little window again and glared her down, but Sandy leaned in at the offer.

“I'm on the brute squad.” he waved.

“You are the brute squad.” The Tinkerer agreed.

“Look, we heard you were one of the best healers in the region with your experiments and we're in desperate need.” Xiaojiao tried again.

“What part of 'was' did you not understand? Past tense. I'm Not in that business anymore. Besides-” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why would you want a disgraced tinkerer to have a look at whoever you've got in mind anyway? I might kill them.” he said that last part in a mocking tone, clearly imitating the Prince in the false posh accent. The only thing stronger then The Tinkerer's sarcasm seemed to be his bitterness.

“He's already dead?” She tried one last time, and this time the Tinkerer seemed interested. He leaned forward a bit to peer at the Not-Monkey King.

“He is, hm?” He paused for a second, eyes flicking into nothing as he thought something over, before eventually shrugging. “Sure, bring him in. I'll take a look.”

The little home indeed was as small as the door implied, and in the living space there was in fact an extra door that lead to the outside workshop area.

Scanning the room for anything flat enough to lay the Not-Monkey King down on, Xiaojiao eventually started to clear the table of books—and there were many books in this house.

“Careful with those!” The Tinkerer chided but as she turned to hand them off instead of a more average demon aggravated and ready to take the tomes from her, she was met with a pair of metallic prongs infront of her, not dissimilar to the legs of a spider demon, and peering to the side a bit she saw that indeed, they were sprouting from The Tinkerer's back.

...Huh... Spider Queen had let on that she was the only spider demon in the area, to think there was another of her kind so nearby without her knowledge before she'd died... The Tinkerer's spider legs sprouted from his back which WAS a little odd since she'd always been told the hips were the usual area for spider legs, but he was using the other pair to better arrange the table for Sandy to put Not-Monkey King down onto it, so it didn't seem like they were a hindrance. She placed the books in the spare two prongs and said tomes were carefully deposited on an empty chair.

The Tinkerer strode over to the body and hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well I've certainly seen worse.” He continued to prod at the body, and the running clock began to hold over Xiaojiao's head.

“Sir we're in a rush here-”

“Never rush a scientist, Miss.” The Tinkerer responded evenly. “Nothing makes an experiment go wrong quicker than rushing the scientist.” He fretted over the body a little longer, and his attention was on the corpse still as he spoke again.

“So how much is this worth to you both?”

“All we've got is Sixty-five.”

The Tinkerer scoffed. “I never work for so little.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Except for that one time, but that was a very noble cause.”

Xiaojiao thought fast “Sir this is a noble cause.” Though no one ever said she was any good at improvising. “His wife cannot leave the house after the accident, children on the brink of starvation-”

The Tinkerer was unmoved. “You're not a gifted liar, are you?”

Fine, if she couldn't make this happen with sympathy she may as well tell the truth. “I need him to help me avenge my father. Murdered these last ten years-”

“Your first story was better.” The Tinkerer cut her off with a scoff. “Probably owes you money, doesn't he?” he turned away from the body to rummage through a crate of strange looking devices. “Now where did I put the- Ah.” He pulled out a pump looking thing. “Well if you're not going to be giving me a straight answer I'll ask him myself.” Her thoughts spluttered for a moment.

“He-... He's dead he can't speak-”

The Tinkerer chuckled. “Oh, so now you're the expert, miss?” he shook his head. “No, your friend here is only mostly dead.” He began to turn a few knobs on the device before gently prying the Not-Monkey King's mouth open. “There's a very distinct difference between mostly dead and all dead you see.” He began to turn the crank on the device and slowly the Not-Monkey King's chest began to inflate. “If he were all dead there'd only be one thing to do.”

“What would that be?”

The Tinkerer smirked “Go through his pockets and see if there's anything worth selling. But Mostly Dead, is Slightly Alive. So there's far more options.”

Soon enough he stopped turning the crank and lifted the device from the Not-Monkey King's mouth. After handing the device off to Sandy, whom helpfully carefully set it back inside the box, the Tinkerer leaned in close to the body.

“Hey! Hello in there! Hey- What's so important? You got anything here worth living for?” he then placed both hands and two of his spider legs onto the Not-Monkey King's chest and pushed.

At first the wheezing noise didn't sound like much of anything, but then Xiaojiao was able to make out-

“'True Love'! You heard him!” She leaned forward to examine the body herself for a moment, but other than the faintest moving of his words, the Not-Monkey King remained still. And peeking back up at the Tinkerer he looked pale, mauve skin suddenly more of a sickly lavender. “You couldn't ask for a more noble cause than that, sir.”

“Well Miss, true love certainly would be a noble cause of all noble causes.” He agreed, before blinking once and shaking his head. “But that's not what he said! I've been hearing mostly dead groans for the better side of thirty years now, and I know 'To blave' when I hear it.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away from her. “And since you seem like those whom may not know 'To Blave' is an archaic way to say 'to bluff'. So here's my read on things, you lot were gambling on something or another and he was cheating so-”

“Oh for the love of- You CanNOT be serious, Syntax!” a raspy voice piped up, and emerging from one of the small rooms was another spider demon, this one looking far more traditional, with the obvious mandibles and four green eyes instead of The Tinkerer's two.

“Huntsman I am in the middle of something can you just-”

“You're in the middle of making yourself look like an obstinate fool that's what you're in the middle of!” The other spider, Huntsman, approached and grabbed The Tinkerer (Syntax apparently) by the arm. “What kind of coward has my brother turned into that he can't even say the truth when he refuses to do what he poured his life's work into?!”

“You have no idea what you're talking about-”

“You head him,You know what he said-” Huntsman turned to the two of them and were it not for the sadistic gleam in his eye Xiaojiao would have thought he was honestly trying to help them. More likely he just wanted to see his brother squirm. “He's turned into a coward ever since the prince fired him! He's been stuck in a rut for months now!”

“Hey! You said you wouldn't bring that up! You swore you'd let that drop!” The Tinkerer's voice went shrill with anger, and the smirk on Huntsman's face widened, showing off his far more pronounced fangs.

“What? That you got fired? You got fired!” and then in a routine Xiaojiao would more expect out of a play than from a pair of fully grown brothers, Huntsman began to chase Syntax around the little room, loudly crowing 'Fired' over and over again while Syntax made vague noises of distress. Eventually Huntsman got hold of his brother again, and this time he maybe actually looked concerned.

“What would mother say if she saw you puttering about like this?! You know how much she went on about 'True Love' and all that ilk! And Sure Goliath was the only one who ever believed her, but you don't even have the decency to say why you won't help?!” Syntax had his hands clapped over his ears and seemed to be trying to loudly tune Huntsman's words out. “What, one good for nothing Prince gives you the boot and you don't have a reputation anymore?! Where in the world did your Spider Pride run off to because sure as anything else it ain't here anymore!” Wait he meant THIS prince, right?

“This man is Red Son's lover!” she cut in. “If you heal him he'll stop at nothing to stop the Prince's wedding!”

That gave both spider brothers pause, and something sparked to life behind Syntax's expression, he took a step away from his brother and leaned over the Not-Monkey King's body to lean in close to Xiaojiao.

“Hold on, hold on. I heal him and the Prince suffers?”

Xiaojiao leaned in and shot him as big a smirk as she could muster. “What's more humiliating than having your groom run off on the day of your wedding? He'd be mortified.” Syntax smiled back at her, and cackled.

“Now that is a noble cause.” a pair of his spider legs rummaged through the bin again before pulling out a set of adjustable glasses. “Give me the sixty-five, I'm on the job.”

“You're welcome.” Huntsman sarcastically called out before sitting down in a nearby chair and crossing his legs.

Sandy seemed to take an interest in him, wandering over beside the spider and striking up conversation, but Xiaojiao had her eyes on the Tinkerer, and her hopes.

–

“So that's gonna heal him up?”

“Something along those lines. He'll be more alive than he is now.” By this point all three of them were leaned in watching The Tinkerer put his last touches on the cure pill.

“Huh, chocolate coating and everything” Huntsman chiming in every so often for color commentary. “Of course you're enough of a petty bastard to pull out all the stops for revenge.”

“You should wait about fifteen minutes so everything's got time to settle.” Syntax continued as though he hadn't spoken, finishing up the pill and sliding it into a leather pouch. “Oh, and don't let him go swimming for awhile, about an hour or so.” He handed the pouch to Xiaojiao whom quickly slid it into her pocket, and Sandy lifted the body beneath his arm again.

“Thank you so much for this Tinkerer.”

Syntax rolled his eyes. “Just make sure someone sees the Prince suffering so you can send me a letter detailing it.”

And then they were off.

“Don't die!” Huntsman called out as they left.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Syntax added on.

–

“Think it'll work?”

“Do I look like a miracle worker to you?”

–

But soon enough they were at the mouth of the mountain entrance. A small wall the only separating Xiaojiao, Sandy, and their only hope from what was supposed to be about 30 demons.

Key word, 'supposed to'.

“Xiaojiao there's at least sixty men there.”

“What?!” She hissed and poked her head out the side to confirm Sandy's observation. And sure enough-

“I could probably take about ten on my own, how about you my friend?”

“Twenty, assuming we're fighting to incapacitate.” Sandy added on very carefully.

“Damn it all.” She hissed. Before glancing back down at the body. “Well, no matter, we've got him. He'll think of something.”

“Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“We can't afford to wait any longer. The wedding's in half an hour!” She shuffled with the body until he was propped up against the wall and took the pill out.

It slid down his throat quickly and concisely, possibly aided by whatever swallowing reflex remained in his mostly-dead state.

“How long do we have to wait, before we know the experiment works?”

“Your guess is as good as mine-” A voice between them interrupted Xiaojiao

“I'll tear you both apart! I'll take you both together-!” Sandy covered the Not-Monkey King's mouth to cut off his desperate threats.

“I guess not very long.”

“Hey, glad to see you awake!” She went for the friendly approach, he seemed sympathetic to her plight when they were about to duel after all-

When Sandy uncovered his mouth the man remained quiet. “Why won't my arms move?” he finally settled on.

“You've been mostly dead all day, friend.” Sandy calmly explained, Xiaojiao quickly adding on that they'd taken him to The Tinkerer to heal him up before Sandy cut back in.

“You know I feel kinda bad just calling you 'The Man in Black' in my head, but now that we know you're human it feels kinda weird to call you Monkey King too, so do you happen to have a name for us to call you by?”

The man paused again glancing between the two of them. “... Who are you two? Are we still enemies?” He glanced behind him. “Why am I resting on this wall?” but the his expression hardened over. “Where's Red Son?!”

“Okay I can explain-” Wait- “...No there's too much. Let me sum it up, but Sandy's right I'm gonna need that name first.”

"Xiaotian. Now tell me.”

“Well Xiaotian, Red Son's marrying the prince in about half an hour, so what we've got to do is break in, stop the wedding, steal your fire demon back, and make our escape. After I kill the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaotian's expression tightened and his fingers began to twitch nervously.

“I'll admit that doesn't leave a lot of time for hesitating.”

“Oh hey Xiaotian! You just wiggled your fingers!” Sandy chirped. “That's great!”

“I've still got something resembling the immortality Monkey King loaned me I guess.” Xiaotian agreed. “What are we facing against?”

“One mountain entrance, guarded by sixty demons.” She grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted him just enough that his head lolled back and he could see the gate.

“Okay, what do WE have?”

“Your mind, my sword, Sandy's muscle.” …. well that sounded pathetic now that she said it outloud-

“That's it? That's pathetic."... but he didn't have to SAY it-

"Maybe if I had a WEEK I could think of a plan but this?” he shook his head slightly.

“Hey! You shook your head too! You're getting better!” Sandy was clearly nervous, with how bright and sunny he was trying to be. Xiaotian tilted his head to the side just enough to turn to see him.

“Your strength, my mind, and her sword against sixty men to stop the love of my life from getting married and then assassinated by a power hungry tyrant-to-be and you think a little head jiggle is worth celebrating?” He hissed and Xiaojiao was about to throw out a hand in Sandy's deference, but as usual the implied insult did little to dampen Sandy's hard earned chill.

“I mean I'd hardly consider it asking for a lot to have a little more to work with! if we had a wheelbarrow that would be something!”

Wait...

“Sandy what did we do with that Wheelbarrow those demon twins had?”

“I think we just left it there after they ran off.”

Xiaotian's expression pinched. “Why didn't you mention that earlier?” But nonetheless she could see the gears beginning to turn in his head. “Ugh... Maybe if we had a dark cloak I could do that plan but-”

“Yeah no, sorry about that, friend.” But Sandy it seemed had other ideas.

“Will this work?” a long dark cloak was pulled from behind him.

“W-... Where did you get that?”

“At the Tinkerer's! That Huntsman guy said it was made for his brother but it was too big and it fit me, so he said I should just take it!”

“Alright alright. Long Xiaojiao was it?”

“Just Xiaojiao is fine.”

“Can you pluck one of my hairs for me and hold it up?”

“Uhhh?”

“Trust me.”

So she curled a finger around a strand of hair and plucked it from Xiaotian's head before holding it up before him.

He blew gently on the piece and directed her to toss it forward.

There was a shower of golden sparks and the hair had turned into a staff much like the one he'd been wielding when they'd met.

“Alright help me up and I'll explain things.” It was a bit of a struggle, Xiaotian had to be sandwiched between Xiaojiao and Sandy “Can one of you attach that to my back?” Sandy reached down and did so.

“You can't even lift it!” Xiaojiao huffed.

“Yeah but they don't know that.” Xiaotian countered, and... she didn't have a counterargument. “So it's going to be a mess when we start this whole thing, one problem after another-”

“I'll say.” She huffed. “I've got three off the top of my head, when we're inside how do I find the Macaque, when I'm done with him how do I find you again, and when I find you again how do we all escape?”

Sandy whom had been basically holding Xiaotian's head up for him during this exchange, tilted the man's head to rest against his chest. “Come on Xiaojiao, lay off the guy, he's had a hard day.”

“Right, Sorry.”

Sandy bobbed Xiaotian's head in an approximation of a nod.

“Hey Xiaojiao?”

“What is it?”

“I hope we win.”

[dcforts]

[lebanon]

ao3

Sometimes, when he is at the bunker and things are quiet, Castiel goes out and ventures in town.

Some days he just feels like stretching his legs, so he takes off before dawn. It’s a long walk to the town center and back in time to see everyone get up for the day, but he likes the solid asphalt of the road under his shoes, the smell of the trees all around, the chirping of the birds nestled on their branches. He likes the clear air of the morning, the cold first light of the day. He enjoys how the landscape is both empty and full, quiet and rich.

It’s always too early to interact to anyone; the town is still sleeping and whoever is already around is too groggy or too busy to give you anything more than a curt nod. Cas appreciates that. Although at this point he feels pretty comfortable on Earth, there are times when he still feels like a fish out of water, so he relishes these morning walks that don’t require too much effort.

On one of those mornings, Dean wakes up while he is still out, and Cas’ phone rings in his pocket as he walks. On the other end Dean gruffly says, Where are you? and Cas looks around and reads out loud the first sign he sees. He says, Gallery Bistrò and Dean says, And where is that? and Cas says Lebanon, Kansas and Dean says Oh and, after a moment, I thought you’d taken off. Cas smiles, looking at the freshly baked croissant displayed in the windows of the bistrò and says I’m on my way and Would you like a croissant?

Some days, when he has errands to run, Cas takes his pick-up.

He always passes by the front windows of the post office and when the place is empty and she is not busy, Marta catches his eyes through the blinds and waves at him to come inside. He doesn’t mind spending a few minutes chatting with her. She is kind and nods understandingly and never makes him feel like he’s speaking in tongues. She always asks after Dean at some point, she says How’s Dean? and He should come by more often, will you tell him that? and Cas always says He’s fine and Of course, he’s very busy with work but he’d love to come by. He likes the way she lights up at that and how -  later, when he tells him - Dean snorts and brags about his charm.

But some other times when she talks about Dean she says He is such a gentleman and What a nice person and Cas nods and says He is and He is the best man I know and her face melts into a soft smile, she pats his hand and says I know, darling. Cas doesn’t know what she knows but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t even tell Dean because he doesn’t know how to explain it. She shows him pictures of her grandson and he buys stamps with sea animals to give Jack as a present.

Then he stops at the liquor store. Jackson will have ready for him two or three cases of the usual beer. From the moment he sees him at the door he talks and talks about how happy he is that the Campbell brothers moved to town, because They know their stuff, he can tell, and he never had anyone like Dean with whom he could talk about booze for hours.

He motions to follow him out back and always insists on helping him carry the cases to his pick-up even if Cas says Thank you and There’s no need cause he can handle it of course, but Jackson is already grabbing one and cutting him off saying Believe me, give it a few years and you’ll feel it and You gotta be careful with your back so Cas lets him help and accepts the spare bottle of whatever new thing he has for Sam and Dean to try and promises him to tell the Campbells that they’re always welcome there.

When they are missing something from the bunker he stops at the mini mart. Fortunately, the young man he was rude to that one time doesn’t work there anymore. Stacy always greets him with a friendly Hello, unless it’s very early in the morning and she still has sleep fogging her eyes or late in the afternoon and she looks bored with her schoolbooks open on her lap.

The first few times, when he approaches her, she avoids his gaze, in a way that suggests that they both know the same secret, and it’s a truth that doesn’t exactly scare her but she would rather not know. Those first few times when he puts the basket on the counter, she says Everything alright? a little unsure, like she is asking about the shopping but also like she is worried that he is going to start talking about monsters. Cas says Yes and nothing else so as not to scare her.

One quiet afternoon though, she is clumsily trying to figure out how the brand new object scanner works and Cas sees her growing frustrated. She says I hate this thing under her breath. He extends one hand and says I can show you and, proudly, I’ve worked in a Gas n’ Sip. She doesn’t seem impressed by that, but lets him try and Cas teaches her. Now when she says Everything alright? she smiles and Cas says Yes and Thank you, Stacy.

If Max is perched on the counter next to her, flipping through a magazine, Stacy is even more relaxed. They exchange looks behind Cas’ back and Max watches him from under her eyelashes the whole time he wanders around in the shop. One time she sees him looking at the candy bars display for a long time and she heads over, points at one kind of chocolate bar and says Trust me. He buys three. He forgets them in the pocket of his coat and Dean eats them all one morning when they head out before he can have breakfast. After the first bite he turns towards Cas with his eyes wide and asks Where did you get these? And Cas says A friend recommended them.

As he drives by the small movie theater he makes sure to memorize the movies they are showing that week in case they decide to have a movie night out. One time they are giving an old movie whose title sounds familiar, so he stops the pick-up, fishes out his phone and sends Dean a picture of the posters, to which Dean texts back We’re going. Only, some case turns up later than night and they are gone all week and miss it.

When he comes back, Dean snoops in the bags he brings in, makes sure he got everything from Jackson, hears about his chats with Marta. Sometimes he jokes You’re gonna steal her from me, to which Cas responds earnestly, I don’t mean to, and Dean laughs and it echoes on the kitchen walls. And then Cas stops by Jack’s room and knocks lightly on the wooden door, usually ajar. As soon as Jack sees him slipping a hand in his coat’s pocket his face brightens. He stretches a hand out and Cas rests the stamp on his palm. It’s usually a little crumpled but Jack always smiles and says A sea lion! or A whale! or A shark! or A sea horse! and That’s so cool and Thank you Cas, like he just handed him a star. And Cas lingers a few moments by the door just to watch him place it in his little wooden box, together with the rest of his small collection.

Sometimes before going back to the bunker he visits the pizza place, where Max’s mum, Caitlin, works. He opens up Sam’s latest text message and lists off their order. During the weekend, a table far back in a corner is usually crowded with young familiar faces. He stands at the entrance waiting for his order to be ready, looking down at the checkered floor and twisting the receipt in his hands and he feels their eyes on him.

One time Eliot ventures to the counter to get a refill for his drink. He makes a poor attempt at covering the fact that he is watching him and Cas pretends not to notice to spare him the embarrassment, but Eliot surprises him, turns around and bravely asks You are Jack’s father right? Cas hesitates, then says, I am and Eliot smiles and nods enthusiastically, I figured, you look exactly the same. Cas is pleased to hear that. Eliot starts talking non-stop, about things he read and things he knows and asking about Jack without even giving him time to answer and Cas is only saved by Caitlin who hands him his pile of pizza boxes. Eliot follows him to the door and keeps it open for him and says Tell him to text me, okay? So we can hang out sometimes.

On the nights he gets pizza, he takes the boxes to the pick-up, places on the passenger seat and drives carefully back to the bunker. He parks, kills the engine, exits, gets to the passenger seat, takes out the pizza boxes and makes his way to the map room. Dean is usually there already, waiting, with an uncorked beer in one hand. He greets him widening his arms and saying Finally and Thank god I was starving before shouting for Sam to join them. Jack doesn’t need to be called, he comes stumbling immediately after Cas, drawn by the smell of food that fills the hallways.

Dean is on his second slice by the time Sam walks in and complains that Dean didn’t wait for him. Sometimes he comes in with a news or wants to talk about his latest research. And Dean rolls his eyes and points at the pizza, and with his mouth full says, Dude, pizza first, work later and Cas sits by Jack’s side and watches them and feels happy.

  +

 One time Dean drives to meet him in town and they sit at the pizza place and Caitlin stops by the table to get their orders and says It’s nice to have you here for once and Max and Stacy wave at them from the corner table and keep sneaking glances at them and whispering and Dean notices but doesn’t mention it, just fiddles with the menu longer than he usually does and keeps his elbows off the table where he’s sure he can’t touch Cas’.

He says, This is weird and Is this weird? and Cas says, It’s not each time until Dean relaxes and jokes and forgets about whatever was bothering him and when Caitlin comes by asking if they have room for dessert he cheerfully says, We’ll take two slices of pie for the road and nudges Cas with his elbow, now very much in contact with his.

Dean walks beside him down the empty streets, swinging the bag with the pies with one hand and touching the back of Cas’ hand with the other, once, twice. Then he grabs it. He says This is weird and Is this weird? and Cas says It’s not each time and Dean squeezes his hand. He says, Who could’ve known? and Cas says Marta knew and Dean laughs and says Yeah, you’re probably right.

They get to the cars and Dean follows him to his pick-up and Cas lets him push him against it and press his body against his. Cas slips his hands under Dean’s jacket to rest them on his hips, and kisses him slowly and the bag swings and drops from Dean’s fingers.

A long time passes before a distance sound startles them apart. Dean pulls back and says, We should get home. Cas watches him stumbling backwards, picking up his bag, smiling. He says Uh, right and I’ll see you at home and he waves awkwardly. Cas smiles and gets into his pick-up and as he drives right behind the Impala, the town, quiet and empty, rolls by outside his windows and he thinks, I like it here.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 29 {Finally!! and it’s been a week of stress indeed. 😞 But thankfully things slowly gets better and better for our Mum YJ 🤗 And for the record? I just wanna say, I’MAPUPPY!😂🤣 I maybe expert on reading smuts but I do am puppy in writing. hahaha. So for you  who was left hanging from the prev. part... Better live it to your imagination guys. keke}

Gentle breeze of summer hay, daylight hues of morning skies, a serene waves of crystal seas. And of course, what’s much more perfect for Jang Taeyoung other than his living Aphrodite’s side profile. Sitting on her daybed balcony, wearing an ash gray robe, drinking her set of bottled water. ‘Fresh from a bath.’ He can tell.

“F*cking hell.” Scolding his own innuendo while she ain’t even doing anything but sit!

A resting elbow, a root of knuckles assisting a tight jaw suppressing a taste of his volatile prey once again. Shifting gazes with a rising pet under the sheets of hot mess they’re in throughout the night. “I can’t blame you Bud. It’s been a while indeed.” Like a consoling friend to his long sleeping member. Yet, she’s beautifully tempting to ignore for so he decided.

Sung Eunyoung on the other side, cannot contain her smiling from coming. Feeling absurd by a single thought in mind. She, being intimate with the man she used to brush off her senses surprises her. Not in her whole life did she expect that but now? “Unbelievable. You are so unbelievable, Sung Eunyoung.”

“Unbelievable. Yes, it is.”

A breathy voice speaks after her. That the same person who exactly did a great chaos of her sanity. Jang Taeyoung’s snaking hand on the fabrics of her robe is enough for her to feel the tingling sensation she starts to familiar with. Slanting to get a glimpse of him from behind for there she is being drooled by those dark orbs which only sees is her and only her. She saw it all. The way her own reflection radiates the apples of his sight. And for the first time in a long time…

She felt proud. He’s solely hers. “Jang” She have to say it, like a validation she wanted to seal. And so she did. A peck to her shoulder, a rubbing thumb circling her belly as well as a seeming smile he gives in, and the sight that never left hers. She confirmed.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Before she knew it? She’s already responding, giving the same curve as he did. “Same as you, Mr. Jang.” Her smile that he cannot take, he eventually stole a kiss on her glossy lips. Thus she hissed a glare, frowning by the sudden chaste she least expected. “I knew it. Tss. Seriously, Jang Taeyoung. Hold it, will you?”

Just to garner his famous snigger. “I can’t promise though. You already awaken him, Eunyoung. You tell me.”

True to his words, she did felt its pet inside his sweatpants bulging behind her. Rolling her eyes, she retorted. “Por favor, Loco. You tire me so shut it.”

Much to her dismay, there ain’t much worse than a stubborn Jang Taeyoung it is. What’s new. A traitor hand sensually sneaking inside her, yet after a slicking smirk on his face. “Is that so? But it seems like I’m much tired Mi amor, considering you even went up first than I am. Isn’t it?”

A jolt from her own, and she’s sure she’ll going to deal another of his expertise. While a sudden image he almost forgot to open up pops his mind. “And oh! Speaking of first…” he begins his contractions.  “You’re a damn seducer woman. Sex education, eh? And here I thought you merely took up the common ones. Damn, if I only knew about it early I should have ravished you even back then. You and your wise mind it is, Ms. Sung.”

‘So he saw it. Mierda!’ she can only think of scolding herself. If not her being too occupied that time, she would have known what his contemplating stare mean the moment he stands in front her piled achievements. “So I was wondering…” thus he started his interrogating response.

“Since the educator has already enlightened the writer. Then isn’t it best for the writer to do his part too?”

Right after the impeccable swirl work of his tongue through her neck, he follows his judgement. “Here, in your daybed. You, my tempting empress and I, your welcoming slave. Writing a better version of Kamasutra. What do you think? Hm?”

And she lost it.

As to a delirious awe of her parting lips subsided, slumping back leaning by the nakedness of his chest, carves of its toned tattoos filling the heat of her whole soul. She accepted her defeat again, for rumor whom she cursed to avoid through a lifetime has it. Him, being the infamous Jang Taeyoung in bed that every bold ones looks forward to. Is indeed one fat truth! Which now she shamelessly admits includes her. A one big slap to her denials. A screw momentum for her living pride. She’s hopeless for she starts to become unsure herself between the reason of her own desire.

Was it because of the fact that he’s simply a natural taming scavenger? Or rather it was his effortless sweet talk calling of giving her names of his liking? Either, or. It’s just seems her writer has finally taught her of what a word insatiable means. A kind of pleasure that had slowly become her favorite thing. Before she realized? They eventually did it again. In her daybed. Feeling the sweats of their aftermath solitude. Hearing each other’s heaving breaths.

Sometime later. Reviving from a huffing state she opts to turn her head to face the weariless man next to her, spooning her and ready for a possible round he’s wishing. Yet, not on her watch as she quickly grabs his sultry hands off her. “Loco, please. I have other things to put at work. Spare me, will you?”    

Even when she ends up slapping him afterwards. Him and his slyness, what’s new. “Cabrón.” A set of warning before a groaning contrary by him happened. “Tss. You and your threats.”  

“And when did a simple warning become a threat,” Sitting up to fix her disheveled robe. Frowning to face the culprit himself. “Huh?” followed by a glancing inquiry she demands for answer. “Whatever smart Sung. As if you let me slip anyway.” A frustrated man came to visit for defiance.

She almost forgot to suppress herself to snigger. For heaven’s sake! She supposed to remain compose even, yet damn this sulking loco of her ruining everything that the only choice she had is to hold her breath to stop a bursting demeanor. Good thing she had her back on him that he’s clueless of what she’s up to, trying to make herself calm as much as possible.

Biting her lips for the last time, “You’re mad at me?” she managed to reciprocate an indecent follow-up, facing him. “FYI Mr. Sly fox, whose fault is it anyway that I have been bombarded with numerous calls from my superiors and so my presence is a must this instant? Good thing my phone is still working even after being thrown. I’ll definitely kill you if it isn’t. Tss.”

“Dare if you can.” Raising up while avoiding her sight, he sprints back inside her bedroom picking up his tussled summer shirt to as well cover his shirtless figure before mockingly staring at her. “As if I was the one who rejected the call even, when in fact the only thing I did was to tease you. That is.” Upset by how suddenly hard to button his shirt, a cussing Jang finally came by. “F*cking shirt!” a forcing hand frustratingly put on-hold.

And she can’t hold any longer. “Hmpp--- pfft! Hahahahah.”

“Now your laughing. Wow.” Indeed. She had freely put herself from laughing out loud, so enough to flex her low vibrato. “Really, woman?” Another of his rebuke for she still doing it. “Sung Eunyoung! I tell you woman, if you don’t stop I might just---“

“Okay! Okay. I’ll--- hahah--- sorry. Okay, uhum. I’ll stop. There. Are we good?”

“Whatever. Tsk.”

Sensing his mug menace, she eventually stopped for real, approaching the man who felt victimize. “Hey, cutie.”

“Did you just call me---“

Something sealed onto his lips before he could actually finish his sentence. It was hers to begin with. The savoring taste he cannot attain to sweep away for so in just a snap of it, his frustration fade away. As fast as that, she swiftly turns the table while he has to curse himself for being a muted cub with this volatile woman in front of him silkily volunteering to button his shirt herself before giving a scrutinizing stare that drown him to dive in the depths of his sensible soul.  

“Is this the real you, Jang Taeyoung? An ever persistent man with the woman he like? Hm?”

He remained speechless. Not long before he clamor to decide beneath himself. Proclaiming to dive along the eye-banging they begun to get used to. “Yes. And you have never been the woman I like, Sung Eunyoung. Let me just correct you in that part because you’ve always been a lover for me. That is.”

He confessed, and she was taken aback. Silently gulping on her own, she can only hide her fluster. She won’t let herself get defeated that easy. Not yet. Sliding away her hold from his nape as she crossed her arms provoking him instead. “You, sly. You pretty sure it isn’t just the lust talking?”

Levelling her pace, he countered back. A brow, twisting to bicker. “Given. You can’t blame me. I’ve been caged enough with celibacy, woman. Just so you know.”

“Is that so? Well sad, Loco. Seems that woman of yours can’t spend a whole day for you.”

“F*cking sh*---“

“La mierda. Halt that vulgar mouth of yours, will you?”

“Like who’s talking as well. Now woman, if you keep making excuses just not to spend time with me, it’s not working.”

She surrendered. A sweeping hand thru the air and a clicking tongue of mockery. She debated. “Aish. Fine. For the peace of your mind then let me just tell you Mr. Jang Taeyoung that aside for the urgent school agenda, I will actually go straight to meet my parents for dinner. There? Does it answer all your question?”

Crossing her arms once again before the unexpected bafflement she never imagined to see from him happened. Looking by his reaction, she was left confused as if he suddenly reminded of something he had forgotten in a while. Nevertheless, she crossed the idea anyway. Choosing her assuming one instead.

With a dreary sigh, she banters. “Right. How come I expect that my parents-pass will actually work for you. I’m foolishly hoping for nothi---“

“Oh…”

“Oh?” surprised by his reply, somehow she unconsciously responded the same before shrugging the thought off and obliged to fill her discontinued one different from the original she opts to be.

“--- Miraculously. Thank you then, Loco. Congratulation eh, that’s new.”  

She even dared to add some teasing at the end of her sentence, just to be unheard by still zoning man in front of her. “Cabrón?” Wanting to get his attention, she retaliates not knowing it was actually a start of a counter. An eyeing man bound to release an unexpected reply. “Can I tag along?”

“Of course, you sha--- what?!”

An embellish retort came after her indeed. “Come again, Jang Taeyoung?” A sassy man tacking its hands in his pockets responded instead. “I said can I tag along. So, can I?”

“And why would I?”

“You never know…” Shrugging off, a knowing smirk faces her.

“No.”

Thus the stern word she decides to give in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mister. I have to get change already.” Forcefully pushing the stubborn man behind her closed doors, a piercing shut has been heard.

~

But screw her for underestimating everything for it was still her in the end being clowned by what was happening around her all along. “What the.”

“--- hell?”        

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

Ain’t Family Great? ~ Lucifer Morningstar x  GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You have come from a very religious household, and they don’t take too kindly when they heard that you are dating someone literally named the devil.

Author’s Note: I literally got this idea from seeing a dialogue prompt on Pinterest, and it just spiraled out of control. 

Trigger Warning: Curse words, some innuendos, biblical literalism, religious talk (It is Lucifer)

You were a friend and coworker of Chloe Decker, you mostly worked in the background doing research and gathering the data on the criminals and suspects of the cases your unit was working on. That is how you met Lucifer, Chloe asked you to gather information on two main suspects on a case she was working on and Lucifer was lingering on in the background.

 When you gave Chloe the information you gathered and she left, Lucifer piped up, “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you before” “That’s because I mostly work on research stuff for cases, so I do a lot of the office work and investigative work that requires me to be in a chair for the whole day. My name’s (Y/N), Chloe’s mentioned you before,” you replied with a small smile. “Ah I hope not all of them are terrible, even if I am the Devil I like to think I have a certain amount of charm,” he said with a smirk.

That’s when you first heard him call himself the devil, and if you were honest with yourself you were always curious about his name: Lucifer Morningstar. 

You grew up in an extremely religious household, which at times felt like you were suffocating from the relentless biblical literalism that was upheld in your house. You were always curious about the Devil in the biblical stories and you always found the quote by Mark Twain interesting if read in a certain context otherwise it’ll sound like an angsty emo kid trying to be philosophical. 

There was an instance where you were on a case with Chloe and Lucifer, and the killer had said, “Oh, you know that phrase? The devil made me do it? It felt like that” 

You let out a light snort at that as you immediately responded, “The devil didn’t make you do anything. Your poor impulse control and anger management, and might I add quite a horrid spectacle of internet history could certainly be a bad combination to make you do something.”

After the case, Lucifer was very curious about your statement towards the killer as you guys headed to a cafe to get some lunch together, he asks, “Why were you so against the man using that phrase? I mean I hate it because it is so demeaning, I’ve got better things to do.”

 You shrugged as you sipped your beverage and responded, “I don’t know, maybe it’s partly because of my very religious family which I have realized how much bullshit I was forced to listen to since I was born, so I guess I grew to have sympathy for the devil.” “Oh really?” Lucifer’s small smile grew to a smirk as he leaned forward, Chloe swatted him to move back.

“Not you. I don’t know you, but one of my favorite quotes about the devil is from Mark Twain,”  you commented. “I don’t think I have,” he continued to have that smirk on his face. He was very handsome but he was so goddamn annoying, you thought. “Well, it goes: ‘Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?’ Like, there’s this whole thing about redemption in the Bible and catholicism but does the Devil ever get the chance to get his redemption? No, I think God wanted a scapegoat and he got it from a rebel,” you ranted. 

Lucifer looked shocked for a moment but gathered his posture and said, “Well, you thought about this quite a bit. I assume because of your family?” You just shrugged at first, took a sip from your drink, then nodded. “Their family is very strict, I thought my family was weird but they got me beat, ” Chloe informed him. 

“They stopped talking to me, they didn’t think that I was enough for them. It hurt at first but y’know as time moves on I figured that I have better things to do than wallow in my past, so I realized I needed help so I got therapy and now I’m here,” you surmised. “Family is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Filling us with traumas and issues since we were created,” Lucifer commented.

                                                                                                                             Time has passed between that first case with Lucifer and Chloe, now whenever they needed an extra pair of eyes they’d call on you to help with them. It was an interesting dynamic that you and Lucifer had developed over the weeks that you were going with them on cases. You were able to talk about literally anything with Lucifer, he made you feel comfortable which is odd since his persistence on him calling himself the Devil. By him associating himself with it, you thought he was supposed to be like an actual bad guy, but gauging his reaction to your conversation about your first case with them, you made a realization that because of his name people treat like the actual devil. 

One day, you went through your mail in the apartment lobby and spotted a letter that was from your hometown, and another one with the return address being your parents’ house. ‘The hell is this?’ you thought. 

When you opened the first one you found a wedding invitation that your cousin was inviting you to, you were actually pretty close with this cousin, she was really chill and she understands the conservative and religious household you used to live in. The second one was your parents’ basically condemning you from being at your cousin’s wedding, and that pissed you off. You were a grown adult, you would be damned if you’d let your parents try to control you anymore. 

You decided to go out to LUX, because if there is one person who understands controlling parents it was Lucifer and maybe he’d be able to give you the extra courage you need to stand up to your parents. You had on your favorite party outfit, and when you entered the club you could feel the thrum of energy and the bass of the music go straight to your heart. As you walked to the bar you spotted Maze whom you’ve met before when you came here out of Lucifer’s request, you waved her over.

 “What can I get for you?” She asked. “I’m sure you know what’s the best drink here, so I’ll leave that to you,” you said. You turned around to just watch the crowd and started to get a little nervous about the idea of going back to your hometown for the wedding, you love your cousin but hate your parents. So, you were at a bit of a crossroads with this. While you were watching the crowd you saw Lucifer come up to you with a big grin on his face. 

“Well, hello (Y/N) this is a surprise. What brings you here?” Lucifer beamed.

 “I actually came here to see you, to ask for advice,” you replied. 

“A horrible decision really,” he smirked.

“My cousin invited me to her wedding but my parents know and basically condemned me from going to the wedding, and I’m unsure of whether to just stay here in L.A. or to go to the wedding and just be resilient against what my parents’ might say to me,” you said crossing your arms and rubbing them back and forth. 

“Well, that sounds like quite a situation you got yourself in”

“I know, that’s why I am asking what I should do?”

“You know I’m all about that rebellion against parental figures, so I say go to the wedding and have a good time, your parents be damned. In fact, I would never say no to a party, so I could come up with you,” he added with a wink.

“Would you like to be my plus one? But please don’t start anything with my parents,” you begged him.

“I thought you’d never ask, and I can’t promise you that,” he smirked.

                                                                                                                            After, that conversation both of you got ready for travelling out to your hometown and you made sure to bring the outfits that gave you the most confidence in yourself because you knew that you’d need that. 

You admitted to yourself a while ago that you had a crush on Lucifer, he was hot as hell, always polite with you, and treated you with genuine interest and respect.  You also made a promise to not let your feelings get caught in the middle of your mission. You are going to have a good time at this wedding, congratulate your cousin and just have a good time. 

                                                                                                                            Both of you made it one piece to the hotel that Lucifer somehow booked without your knowledge, because you swore you got a cheap motel room but as you tried to convince Lucifer to let you go to your motel room, he just said, “Are you crazy? I’m the devil for a reason, darling, I got connections everywhere and plus this place is much more spacious. We don’t need to sleep in the same bed if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”

“I just thought you would probably be looking for hookups or something and would want your own hotel room for that stuff,” you sputtered. 

“Well if that comes to it, I’ll go to their room because I wanted to give you the comfiest place to go back to because I know how family can be,” Lucifer answered. 

“That’s really nice of you, y’know for someone insisting he’s the devil you can be really sweet.”

The hotel room was really nice, it had two bedrooms and a large tv screen in front of the dining area. As time moved on and you guys decided to decompress and relax on one bed and decided to just mindlessly watch the tv. You fell asleep and Lucifer watched you for a moment as he realized you were asleep, he put you under the covers and fell asleep next to you.

The next day you woke up to the sunlight hitting your eyes, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and as you took a deep breath in you smelled something delicious. You turned around and saw Lucifer cooking breakfast with his shirt half undone and his hair all curled up. 

“Good morning (Y/N), how did you sleep?” Lucifer asked.

“Pretty good, actually,” you answered with a yawn still trying to wake up.

As you both ate breakfast in relative comfortable silence, you looked at your phone and noticed the time. “Shit, we should get ready to go to the church and the party afterwards,” you told him as you got up and went to your suitcase to gather your things.

After what seems like hours to both of you, you managed to get out of the hotel room and to the church. Lucifer dropped you off in front of the church as he wanted to find a parking space for his car. As you waited in front of the church you noticed your parents walking to the church and felt your stomach churn as they were inching closer to you. Your mom looked furious and it was like her whole head was on fire how red it was. Your dad had a more quiet anger to him but you saw the clenched fists and the tightened jaw on him. You put out a little prayer to whoever to get Lucifer faster to you. 

“What are you doing here? I thought we told you to not come here,” your mother sneered.

“The last time I checked I am a grown adult and (Y/C/N) invited me to their wedding,” you stated. 

“Listen here you bitch, you are a disgrace to this family and that is why we didn’t want you here,” your mother hissed.

Before you could get another word in you heard Lucifer, “Oh there you are, love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the side of your head as he wrapped a hand around your waist and looked at your parents as he continued, “You must be (Y/N)’s parents, I’m her boyfriend, a pleasure to meet you.”

You looked at him a bit surprised and your parents’ faces were that of a gulping goldfish. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,” he stated.

“Like the devil?” your father said with apprehension in his voice, he made your mom step back behind him. 

“Oh, I’m not as bad as the books say, you know,” Lucifer spoke with a wink.

“Quiet, evil one,”  your dad sneered.

“Oooh, name-calling so fearsome, “ Lucifer scoffed. He looked towards you as you were just staring at the three of them. “C’mon love, we’ve got a wedding to go to, can’t be late.”

                                                                                                                            After that encounter the wedding reception went quite beautifully, you may or may not have teared up hearing your cousin and their spouse recite their vows. When you both went to the after-party you both stayed away from your parents and they seemed to have lost interest after that conversation earlier. 

A slow dance came on while you were at the bar getting a drink when Lucifer appeared next and offered you his hand. You just raised an eyebrow at him in response and just said, “I thought you weren’t the type for slow dancing?” “Only with the right partner I find it enjoyable,” he smirked with a wink. 

You hit him on the chest playfully and replied, “How do you know I’d be the right partner?” you asked. “Ooh I’d figure you’d be good at from the first day I saw you” he quipped. “Okay show me your moves, then,” you replied, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor.

He led most of the dances, keeping you close to his chest with his hand on your back. It was nice, the rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear was very soothing as well as him occasionally humming with the song if he knew, which more often than not he did. 

You looked at him and you both started to stare at each other’s eyes. You felt your eyes flutter between his eyes and his lips, he was doing the same to you. His hand cupped the back of your head and he engulfed your mouth with his. You kissed back with as much passion, but as soon as he was kissing you it was over. That kiss left you wanting more and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him.

“Wow” you whispered looking at him. Lucifer just smiled at you for a second. “I hope you wouldn’t mind if you became my real girlfriend then a spontaneous fake one?” he asked. “I would love nothing more Lucifer,” you replied with a huge grin. “Let’s get out of here then, love,” he said as he took your hand and led you out of the building and back to your shared hotel room. This time there didn’t need to be any excuses to sleep next to each other, you just did.

[ellana-ravenwood]

An AU in which Bruce Wayne raises Damian since birth - Ficlets

I wrote a small post about this not long ago (click here to take a look at it), and it made me wanna write more about this alternate universe...So here we are. It’s not a very original AU, but eh, there’s a reason people wanna write about it because damn <3. This is more like, a collection of little scenes and moments than a real story, but ya know. I just wanted to expand. I hope you will like it : 

PART 2

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

_________________________________________________

                                                  ******

The Beginning.

Bruce was most certainly not ready to have a child. 

He wasn’t even sure he ever wanted one, given the path he decided to follow. 

But the decision was taken out of his hand the day Talia decided to do what she did. 

Bruce was most certainly not ready to have a child. 

But he would never leave a kid in the hands of the Al’Ghuls. The gods only knew what they would do to him. What they could turn him into !

What if the kid grew up, and came to Gotham to defy his father ? Would Bruce be ready to fight his own child ? 

If he had to, he told himself. 

And maybe that’s what would’ve happened if he never heard of it. If he never knew...

But he knew. He knew that what Talia mentioned to him once, she actually did. 

And there was no way he would ever let that boy be raised by the Al’Ghuls, now that he knew he existed. Wether he was ready to have a child or not. 

Never, never, armed with the knowledge she did go ahead and made that baby, would he not do anything. It wasn’t like him, to leave untied knots. Or to leave someone he knew was in need...

There was no way that boy would have a good childhood, with the Al Ghuls. Particularly with Ras’ around. Not that Bruce was sure the child could have a good life with him...But between the pest and cholera ? 

It if was only Talia. If it was just her love. If she hadn’t told him why she wanted a child with him...Maybe he would’ve left the boy behind. 

But his informant was adamant. The talks going on amongst the League were all the same. 

Ras Al’Ghul’s heir was brought to this world only for one purpose. 

And maybe what Talia felt for Bruce was genuine love. Maybe what he felt for her at the time was too. But she told him the real reason why she chose him, and why she wanted his child. 

“He’ll be a new Alexander.” 

She said...And although Bruce was most definitely not ready to have a kid, he would never let that happen. He would never let his own child grow up in such an environment. 

Maybe if he never knew...Maybe if he never knew things would’ve been completely different. Maybe it’d avoid him a lot of trouble, too. 

But he knew. And he wasn’t about to let that kid...His kid, suffer a childhood he knew was not going to be happy. After all, Talia told him what Ras used to force her to do when she was younger...

************

Sneaking into the Shadow League’s headquarter was ridiculously easy. Which made him suspicious. Maybe they were expecting him ? 

Oh but they couldn’t...They couldn’t know he knew. They couldn’t know he left behind a friend, the only one he made in the league of assassin. A fellow apprentice. A friend who spied on the Al Ghuls unbeknownst to them (or he would be dead since a long time). 

Bruce silently entered what he knew to be the baby’s room, and looked around. He was right, his informant was right. The crib was in the middle of the richly decorated room. Bruce, with light steps, walked towards it. 

And...

And...

It was like being faced with a portrait of himself at that age. Except the boy’s skin was darker, his eyes shaped more like almonds, and Bruce could guess that if he just opened said eyes...they would be olive green like his mother’s. 

And he was right. 

The soft rustling sound Bruce made as he bended over the crib to pick the  little one up woke him. And he opened his eyes wide immediately.  

He did not cry, instead, he looked up at this stranger that was picking him up with curiosity, and Bruce felt his heart...Do something. 

He couldn’t quite describe it, the feeling. His heart skipped multiple beats, while going faster at the same time. And he wanted to smile. 

It was an urge too hard to resist, something he couldn’t control while he learned to control his own emotions, and he smiled at the little one in his arms, taking a gloved fingers to his cheek to caress it lightly, as if it was natural. 

The baby...he...he...

He smiled in return. A cute, unsure and untrained smile, as if it was his-

“That is his first smile.” 

Talia. She was there, at the entrance of the room, casually walking in in as if nothing was happening. 

“Hello, detective.” 

She took Bruce by surprise, and he turned around quickly, taking a fighting stance while holding his son against his chest protectively. His hands naturally held him, one supporting his back, the other his head, even as his legs spread apart, ready to fight. 

Bruce had fought only with lower body before. He trained to be able to do so. He knew he could have a chance against Talia. That he had no chance of taking her down, but could at least escape her. Fight if need be. But he’d rather avoid it...Not in front of their child. 

Wasn’t Bruce here to take the boy away from violence and pain ? He couldn’t fight his own mother in front of him, even if of course, the baby would most likely not remember. 

Maybe he was an unwanted child on Bruce’s end, and one Talia created only for a specific purpose...but he was still a child.

His child. 

“I will not let you raise him, Talia. And if you want to stop me I will have to-”

“I don’t.” 

There was something odd, in Talia’s eyes, that Bruce had a hard time to discern in the dark room, only lit by the moon. 

Was it...Sadness ? Regrets, perhaps ?

“His name is Damian. From the Greek word Damianos, which means “to tame.” He is upposed to be the tamer of the World. At least, that’s what my father wants.”

“I won’t let you-”

“Redundant, detective. Even more so since I told you I will not stop you. I think the fact I let your little friend, the one who told you about Damian’s existence, live, should be proof enough. I let him go, if you’re wondering where he is. I told him to disappear, and if he’s smart enough, he will. I knew since the beginning, he was your friend. Even as he acted like he tried to kill you during your escape. I knew because I know you. I watched you close enough...” 

There was a small silence, during which neither of them moved. Damian, still in his father’s arms, cooed happily as he was trying to grab at the Batman’s armor. 

Finally, Bruce spoke : 

“...Why ?” 

Another silence. Talia did not look at Bruce, but at the tiny being slowly moving in his arms. After what seemed an eternity, punctuated by Damian’s little happy and unaware sounds, she said : 

“Because I do not wish for him to become me. Or my father.” 

“But, that is why you created him ?” 

“That is why I-...When it happened, I imagined you would be around, detective.” 

“You couldn’t seriously think I would stay after knowing what you and your father were up to ? You know me better than that, no ?” 

“I do. I guess it was all wishful thinking.”

Another silence. Heavy. 

“When you left I was angry. And lonely. So...I made him. Our plan was to raise him to become even better than us, and then send him to you. Because if he destroyed you, then he could destroy everything - bitter laugh - I say “our”, but I truly mean my father’s plan. Twisted and nonsensical, I see it now.” 

Bruce felt uneasy, and nostalgic. The boy was getting used to being held by this odd man, and now was sucking at his foot thoughtfully (as thoughtfully as a 3 months old baby can). 

“I did love you, Detective. And I would’ve gladly govern the world with you, and our son. But you leaving, you telling me all those things...It made me realize. I have never truly been loved before. This is why I was so angry when you left. No one, no one loved me before you. My father...I serve a purpose to him. When I was with you, I felt love, and loved. But before...Before I was just another instrument in my father’s grand schemes of things. Has he ever loved my mother ? He said he did. Maybe he did. But he did not keep her with him. And I became what I am today. Now, I am no fool, detective. I unfortunately know I cannot change. But Damian...Damian has a chance, with you.” 

Bruce didn’t know what to say. His heart and throat felt tight, and his hold on the boy became stronger and surer. 

“Please, let me say goodbye ?” 

Of course, Bruce agreed. 

He watched Talia slowly walking to him, and looking at the boy. 

Her boy. 

The boy she knew she had to let go, because she loved him enough to want him to not become her. Or his grandfather. 

Talia never loved anyone before. Except for her “detective”, and for her son...

“One day, my heart. One day, I hope we can meet again. Goodbye, Damian.” 

She told the little one, and the baby looked at her, smiling widely as he recognized the voice of his mother. She laid a kiss on his forehead, took a last glance at him, and left the room without turning back. 

Bruce left the headquarter with his crying son in his arm, sure now, that if it had been that easy to get into it...it was because Talia herself, lowered the security. 

************

Damian Wayne, son of Batman. Occupation : Baby. 

Bruce was right. He was NOT ready to be a father. He never even held a baby, in his short twenty three years of life ! Why would he anyway ?!

Thanks god for a certain man called Alfred Pennyworth. 

The butler, whom Bruce considered a second father know, slowly showed him the ropes and tricks to take care of a baby, trying to involve his young master in everything as much as he could because...What was the point in saving that little boy from a world of pain and violence, if it was to not take care of him ? 

And so there were times Alfred told him to take care of things on his own. Which Bruce wasn’t sure he liked, so far... 

But he was trying. He was really trying. 

The arrival of Damian in his life put so many plans he had in shamble, but Bruce learned how to adapt fast. 

Of course, the news of Bruce Wayne having a “secret son” spread like a wild fire all across Gotham. And he knew there was no hiding such a thing. What was the point of hiding the boy anyway, he couldn’t raise him and keep him shut in the Manor all his life !! 

The public was quick to believe the story he told. Of course, no one had trouble to picture playboy Bruce Wayne who was known to sleep around, having a “secret” son. In fact, many talked about bets going all around the city as to when a scandal of the sort would happen. 

Bruce had been back home for about a year, and in that short year, he made sure to assure his “Brucie Wayne” persona, that he knew would help him keep Batman a secret. 

He most definitely did not expect Damian, but was quick to find a plan. His explanation about him satisfied everyone. A story about how Damian’s mother could not take care of him, and he wanted to take his responsibilities...

Which technically wasn’t a lie. 

The story stayed at the front of every newspapers for a long time, and Bruce decided to play on it and, although he felt a little ashamed, use his son for a publicity stunt, and therefor have even more cover for his Batman activity. 

He was often shown in public, with a baby carrier, or exiting an important meeting early to go see his boy. Which he did. And he couldn’t help but have a feeling that this little boy, his little boy...sort of saved him. 

Bruce felt that without Damian, he would’ve jump heart and soul into this Batman thing. And he did, he promised his parents he would...So of course, he did. But there was always this little piece of reality holding him back. 

His little boy cooing at him, and smiling at him, and laughing and having this second chance at life. Which gave him, too, a second chance at life.

Of course, Bruce could not forget the years of pain he dragged behind, the trauma of losing his parents. But he felt that Damian, and his presence so early on in his life ? Most definitely changed him. 

For the better. 

************

The first dirty diaper. 

“Alfred ? ALFRED ? Alllllfreeeeeeeeeed ?!” 

Bruce screamed, while running around the manor, panicked, holding baby Damian against him. The boy was giggling happily, liking how his father’s running steps made him rock as he held him against his chest, a terrible smell following them around…

Bruce took a break from work today, giving his favorite excuse : “He had to take care of his son.”, but of course, babies being babies...Bruce really thought his boy was focusing on the pictures he was showing him, certain his son was a genius, up until the odor coming from the kid’s diaper informed him that no; Damian was not focusing on the pictures his father was showing him. 

When Bruce entered the kitchen, in which Alfred was preparing dinner, the foul smell told the butler instantly what the problem was. Turning around to face Bruce, he says, with his infamous English phlegm : 

“I think it’s time for you to learn how to change a diaper, Master Bruce. I have done it for the first few weeks, because you had very few sleep, but you cannot escape this anymore. Come on, master Bruce, I will show you.”

Bruce’s face fell, and Alfred gave him a rather sneaky smile. Well. It really was time his master learned how to change a diaper. After all, Bruce did say he would take care of this child so he could have a good life... 

************

The hair incident. 

The first time Bruce tried to put clothes on his son all alone, without the help of Alfred, it ended in a disaster. 

The fearless Batman was most definitely not prepared for how squirmy babies really are. He had been fighting for a good ten minutes with his son’s legs before he started to mutter : 

“I’d rather be fighting every single goons in Gotham right now, ah Damian please just -Damian kicked one of his leg up while the other one went down- no wait -The boy did the same thing, but changing leg this time- just stay still a second -this time, he put both his legs up, trying to grab one of his foot to put it in his mouth - oh my god..” 

As soon as he was able to slide one of the baby’s leg into his pants, and trying to put the other on...Damian would squirm his little legs around and undo everything. Cooing at his father continuously, as if talking to him. Taunting him that he was doing it wrong !

He decided to try another approach, and moved on the side of the kid, holding his legs down and bending above him to try to block the boy’s legs long enough, without hurting him, to...Oh, but he bended forward a little too much and...The kid got a hand on his hair. 

Unhappy of the sudden restraint, Damian let a loud “HA !” out, but before starting to cry got distracted by his father’s head being close and...Right there, in reach. What were those funny wiggly thing on his head ? 

“ALFREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

The butler rushed in, afraid something bad happened to the baby...Only to find his young master Bruce, his body bend in an awkward position as he tried as gently as possible to untie his son’s hands from his hair...not succeeding very much. 

After this, Bruce started to wear his hair shorter, and neatly brushed back, and left behind any stylish haircut he thought would be good for his public persona.

************

Damian Wayne, Son of Batman AND little brother to Robin. Occupation : Baby AND little brother.

Damian was home with Alfred, when Bruce first met Dick. (IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE : I took an age “canon” diverging from my personal preference so it would fit the story. I usually like the pre-crisis version the best, where Dick is 8 years old when Bruce takes him as his ward, because it calls back to Bruce’s own age when he lost his parents...But for the sake of this story, and to fit closer the “actual” ages of the boys even if it won’t be perfect (then again AU), I’ll go with post-crisis “official” age which is around 12 years old. Not 15 though, like in the New 52, that’s too old...anyway it seems like Rebirth went back to around 9/10 when Bruce takes him in but yeah, ya know...12, so it fits better. But my personal preference is little baby 8 years old Dick coming in. Haha thought it was worthy of mentioning, and also anticipating any age question :), more explanation about ages in my AN at the end of this fic). 

It was about three months in since Bruce brought Damian back with him, it seemed like...A good idea ? To adopt a twelve years old child who just went through the same trauma he did, while being a 23 years old still struggling to know how to be a father. 

But a twelve years old would be easier to handle than a baby, right ? 

Wrong. 

Dick had some hard days, at the beginning, in Wayne Manor. The media had put in his head that he was a publicity stunt, that Bruce didn’t really care, and he would suddenly lash out at times, the pain too grand. 

Bruce understood more than anyone else. 

He too, lashed out at Alfred a lot when he was younger. It is normal, when you’re so young and already felt so much pain... 

Oddly enough, it’s Damian, that ended up calming Dick. 

The baby, now about six months old, was starting to crawl all around, and took a grand interest in that newcomer. 

Dick would try to isolate himself somewhere at times, playing his game boy in a corner of the main living room...Only for a little six months old to laboriously crawl to him and try to climb on him. 

Thanks to Damian’s presence, Dick opened up surprisingly fast. Bruce suspected the boy’s personality was already quite cheery, but he also clearly had a little dark side to him...However, only because the media were spreading lies about Bruce. And his reasons to take the boy in. 

As Dick saw how Bruce took care of his baby son, he slowly opened up and trusted that the man truly wanted to give him a home. 

Of course, Bruce would never replace his parents...But he still could be his new dad. The two weren’t inclusive. Dick would never forget his beloved parents, but was lucky to still have people who loved him around. 

And that baby ? He was clearly very much set on bonding with him anyway. Wherever Dick seemed to go, the little cooing noises Damian did and the sound of him crawling on the floor would follow. 

And it warmed Dick’s heart. He’d let the baby fall asleep in his arms, or come and sit next to him, watching what he was doing with great curiosity. 

Damian even took the bad habit of crying, just so that Dick would come and take care of him (he also did that to his father and Alfred, to be fair). And it worked every time. As soon as Damian would make a sound, Dick would be here. 

The rare times Bruce scolded Dick for something bad he did, Damian would become mad and scream at his father. In fact, his very first words, right after his first birthday, was “no dada”, as he scolded his father for telling Dick he needed to focus more in school. 

The little twelve months old would hug his older brother tight against his heart, and tell his father off. 

“No dada no !” 

Sometimes, it would make Bruce laugh. Sometimes, it would infuriate him...How dare, his authority, undermined by a one year old ! Then again, he never really minded. All he ever wanted, was for his sons to be happy. 

And to be fair, ever since Dick truly decided to settle for this new life, he rarely made mistakes worthy of scolding. Dick was a really sweet boy. And Bruce  didn’t believe in being angry at his children anyway, he understood very fast that this was doing the opposite of what he wished it’d do. 

It didn’t take long enough to Bruce to realize that giving love to his children meant receiving it back. Being angry with them without explaining anything meant frustration on all side. So of course, he wouldn’t let them do bad things. But Bruce found that they’d actually rarely act out, when he was trying to be understanding and make them see what they did wrong...

Bonding with Damian, and becoming real brothers. Becoming very close, is what gave Dick a new hope. Of course, Bruce’s unconditional love and care did too, but the first thing that made him open up, the first thing that made him want to have a new family...It was this little baby, who decided himself that he was his big brother now. 

************

The Solid Food incident. 

Damian was starting to eat solid food. 

Well. Solid food. More like mushed food, but still a step forward from the formula milk and baby bottle. 

But right now, Damian was having a fit. 

He absolutely refused to eat his mushed pees and chicken that Alfred made in the “baby cook”. And it was getting late. Bruce was about to leave for the Batcave, and it was getting close to Damian’s bed time. 

But the boy wasn’t having it. Any of the techniques Bruce used failed, including the infamous “the airplane is coming”. 

“I don’t think he likes it, B.” 

Dick said, smiling a little too widely as he looked at Bruce struggling with his boy. Which gave a sudden idea to the man. His last idea, really. 

What monkey sees, monkey does, right ? 

“Look Damian, look here. Daddy loooooves the food, see.” 

And he gulped down the spoon of mushed food. And oh god, it was probably the most disgusting thing Bruce ever ate in his life. What was this ? Why would anyone expect someone to eat this monstrosity ?! Was this really baby food ? 

The face Bruce made didn’t fool Dick, nor did it Damian. The little toddler gave a look to his father that clearly meant, “see ?!”, and Dick bursted out laughing and almost choked on his own dinner. 

That night, Bruce relented and just gave Damian his favorite food : apple sauce. As much as he wanted. Telling both his boys to “not tell Alfred about this”. 

************

The day Superman changed his opinion on Batman... But he didn’t know it was Batman. 

At the time, Clark still had a rather poor opinion of Bruce Wayne, whom he didn’t know yet was Batman. 

And it was totally not because he shortly dated Lois Lane ! Nope, not at all ! He just couldn’t stand Bruce’s guts and smug face.

But he had to admit his actions were praiseworthy. In fact, today, he came from Metropolis to this godforsaken city that Gotham was, for an interview about a recent charity Bruce started. A charity that did some good all across the USA, and was worthy of reporting in the Daily Planet. 

The journalist was ready to act fake and smile a lot, while really wanting to punch the billionaire in the face. He really didn't like how this Bruce Wayne acted always so sure of himself and...grr...If only he knew he was Superman ! He wouldn’t act the same, for sure. 

So it’s with a huge surprise, that he came into the man’s office, and surprised him as he was playing with his young son. 

Right there, on the floor, he saw THE Bruce Wayne, a grown ass man, acting absolutely silly to make his baby laugh. 

The little boy was giggling loudly as his father was making funny faces at him, and Bruce wasn’t noticing the newcomers at all, as he kept going, too enthralled in the moment, too focused on playing with his boy. After all, he had a rather busy week and barely any time to spend quality time with his children, lately, so this was the perfect occasion for him...

If only he didn’t forget about Clark Kent’s interview. 

“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne, I thought you weren’t busy !”

Bruce jumps a little, out of surprise, and turns around, his face livid as he realizes what just happened. He stands up straight quickly, and turns toward Clark and his secretary. 

But the little boy on the floor whines a little and make grabby hands at him, giving him the most adorable puppy eyes Clark ever saw. The man relent, and picks his son up, turning to Clark and the secretary again. 

She is visibly very embarrassed, but “Mr. Wayne” just smiles charmingly at her (why was this guy so cool ?!) and says : 

“No worries Charlotte. Mistakes happen. You can go back to your office. And apologies, Mr. Kent, I did not know you were already here. Clearly.” 

In a few seconds, Bruce had turned around an embarrassing situation for him and was acting all smug and arrogant again. But this time, Clark felt that there were much more to Bruce Wayne that the public image he was showing. 

Flashforward to a few years later, Clark finally discovers Batman is Bruce Wayne, and he is utterly SHOOK. 

************

The Family Portrait debacle.

One day, about a year after bringing Damian back, Bruce decided to have a family portrait made. Of both his sons.

He bought very fancy and cute clothes for his boys, and tried as best as he could to make Dick and Damian presentable.

Dick’s hair were unruly and there was always a little cow lick that refused to go in rank with the other hair, but it was still fine.

Damian was really unhappy to have his first haircut ever, and it had been a nightmare to try and get him into his fancy clothes.

It wasn't helping, that Dick was clearly agreeing, and talking about how itchy the clothes were. But Bruce seemed excited about this, and so he did it.

But Damian ? Oh the little boy still didn’t understand this sort of things, and as everyone already could figure out, he seemed very independent and hated to do things he didn’t wanna do.

And so, even for the Batman himself, getting his one year old son to stay still for a family picture was no easy task. Dick almost dropped his little brother many times, and they decided to sit the boys on the floor instead of a high armchair like their original ideas.

Damian wouldn’t stop squirming, and the picture ended up being a rather hilarious image on which it was very obvious Dick was struggling to keep his brother in place, and Damian was half-crying half-mad.

Later in the day however, both in cute little pajamas, the two boys fell asleep together as Dick, as he took the habit of doing, read his little brother a bed time stories and fell asleep while doing so.

Those two pictures, the “ugly” yet very funny one, and the absolutely cutest one, have a prized place on the “Wayne family” picture wall.

************

The day Dick joined the Teen Titans. 

Bruce encouraged him to do so, if he truly wanted to. 

Dick was sixteen now, and Bruce could see he was looking for more meaning, for more than just being his shadow. 

Bruce could see the boy he came to see as his own son, as much as he saw Damian as his, needed to find more sense to it all. Needed to help more than just Gotham and its people, at least for now. 

Joining and creating his own team ? With friends that had similar backgrounds to him, that felt out of place too ? Figuring things out on his own for a while ? The Batman was convinced it could only do him good. 

Now many would’ve called him a bad father for letting his 16 years old son go off on his own...But many did not understand what Dick went through. Bruce did. And it would be highly hypocritical to not let Dick go for a while, when Bruce himself left Gotham around the age of 17 to go travel the world ? To train, and find meaning in it all ? 

Plus, who said he wouldn’t keep an eye on his boy ? As if he was gonna let his son completely on his own. Of course, Dick didn’t need to know Bruce was totally spying on him, but...Well, Bruce couldn’t completely let go. 

So yes. Bruce was behind Dick as his teen of a son had a harsh decision to make. Because it wasn't just about finding himself...There was also Damian. 

Could he leave his baby brother behind ? Would the little boy understand ? 

Would Dick be strong enough to go away from his family, even if he knew he needed it and it wasn’t permanent ? 

Bruce knew Dick needed to go. Needed time to find himself, understand who he truly was, and move on.  But Bruce also knew that he was held back by the love he had for his brother, adopted father, and adopted grandfather...

He also knew that it became vital for his boy, as he saw him more and more get lost in thoughts. Just like it was vital for him, as a seventeen years old boy, to leave Gotham to train. 

And so he sat with Dick, and talked about it, keeping Damian away for a little while so that cute little toddler wouldn’t change Dick’s decision. 

They wrote a pros and cons list, and the pros outweighs the cons by a little. Bruce tells his son that he has to take care of himself first, especially in regards of his mental health...

It was just for a little while anyway, and he could come back if he felt too homesick, right ? The Wayne fortune came in handy, for that. There was also the possibility of video conferences. 

And so Dick joined the Teen Titans, with a heavy heart, but knowing it was for the best at that time for him. 

Damian seemed quite sad at first, since he was so used to have his brother around at all time ! But as every kid, he adapted rather fast and although he asked often about “Dick”, a video conference with him was enough, as the little boy knew his brother would never abandon him and surely come back. 

(---> In many stories but not in all of them (canon man...What a mess), Dick and Bruce do not see eye to eye as to which methods they should use while out there in the street, Dick thinking Bruce is much too violent etc etc...It’s sort of unclear wether Dick left or Bruce “fired” him really, but they have a pretty bad fall out and Dick leaves, leaving a Bruce that finds himself in a very dark lonely place, up until Jason comes in his life...but in this version, raising a baby and finding the light earlier in his life, I think Bruce wouldn’t be as violent, and share Dick’s views as to how they should proceed as Batman and Robin. Of course, they still beat villains’ asses. That their schtick, HOWEVER, they don’t beat them near to death ? They incapacitate them in many ways. I think if Baby Damian had been in Bruce’s life since the beginning, his Batman would’ve been much different...I mean, it’s Dick’s departure that made him change his method slightly and be less violent ? That made him question himself and reconsider ? So if he already had a child in his life before that ? One that came from his union with a certain Talia Al’Ghul ? If the all point is to save him from violence and such ? Then I think Bruce’s Batman would be different...If any of this makes sense ? Just explaining this scene for those who know the comics and are like : “wtf Ella that’s not how it went ?!” haha, AU).

************

The boy who stole the Batmobile’s tyres. 

Jason was barely even twelve, when Bruce brought him back with him to the bat cave. He was a frail and wary little boy, and Bruce could only imagine what he went through...

No one just dares to steal from the Batman’s himself without a reason. And in Jason’s case, that reason was clearly survival.

He had a few scratches on his face, and bruises on his arms. Bruce didn’t want to re-open whatever trauma he went through, or ask too many questions that would make the boy uncomfortable...So he simply offered help. 

A warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. Little did he know at the time, that the boy would stay much longer than the night...

And oddly enough, the boy instantly accepted. Because someone being nice to him while he caught him stealing from him must be nice right ? Also, he heard of the Batman. He knew the good he did. 

And so it all started. A simple night and a warm meal turned into official adoption papers, and the rest is history...

************

The more the merrier. 

Bruce wasn't sure how Damian would take the fact that Jason was staying for good. After all, he was so close from Dick...Was Jason going to be able to find his place in his new family ? 

When Bruce introduced Jason officially to Damian, the boy didn’t really react, just thinking he wouldn’t say. They played together, but Bruce wasn’t sure it stuck in his little four years old that Jason was here to stay. 

So he officially stated it. Jason was adopted now, for good and...his worst fear happened. Damian took a good look at Jay, up and down, then turned around and ran away. 

The poor little boy (Jason) looked absolutely crushed. He really was excited to finally have a home, his time at the Manor was the best he ever had ! And he really liked little Damian, but if he didn’t like him in return and didn’t want him in the family ? It was painful. 

But then a few minutes later Damian came back, holding his two favorite toys ever, and walked straight to Jason, in a determined way, gave him the toys and said : 

“Fo’ you. Zayson.” 

And Jason Todd, barely twelve years old, almost cried as this little boy who was facing him did that small act of kindness. Did something that no one ever really did for him before. 

Jason Todd had a new bother. And so did Damian. 

************

A new brother. 

Damian and Jason bonded even further once the official adoption papers went through. This made Bruce realize how strong his little boy was because... Damian clearly missed having an older brother.

He wasn’t quite acting with Jason how he acted with Dick, however. With Dick, Damian would shadow him all around, and just sit in his lap, looking at what he did. 

Sometimes Dick needed to be on his own, and Damian would just wait for him, not seeking him too much, understanding ? Dick and Damian had quite a lot of years of difference. 

When Dick was 12, Damian was a baby. 

Jason and Damian still had quite a bit of difference, but now, Damian was four. He could play, and talk, and invent new games. 

That boy was very imaginative. 

And Jason ? His dream had always been to have a little brother, so he played along with everything. Where Dick enjoyed being a mature older brother who would console Damian and be there when he needed...Jason was an active older brother, who loved to play and have fun. 

His childhood was clearly stunted by drama that happened in his early life, and with Damian, it was like he could live some of the years he lost again. 

Not that he was acting childish, oh no, on the contrary. But he would just play along, something that Dick rarely did. Dick had other game and interest, Jason was very happy to play pretend. 

Dick was the comforting, reassuring older brother. 

Jason was the fun one that you could always count on and that had the best game ideas. 

Maybe the fact Jason and Damian were a little closer in age played for a lot ? Probably. Or maybe Jason, who always dreamt of a brother, would just do anything to be liked by Damian. 

Not that he had to try hard. Damian adored both his older brothers equally. For different reasons. Yet the love was there all the same. 

More often than not, Damian would escape his bed and room, to go sneak into Jason’s bed at night, and wait for his brother to come home from patrol. 

Both Jason and Bruce let him, of course, it was very cute. And Jason felt oddly safe, there, with his little brother curled up beside him ? 

It was like little Damian, his precious little brother, meant home. 

Bruce did too, for sure. Jason never had a dad, and he was so happy to have one that was as cool as Bruce ! But his little brother represented something he never thought he could have. 

In which world would Jason Todd, little orphan living in the streets, ever have such a great little brother ? Or a chance to have a family ? 

************

The good years. 

Dick would often come by, while still being with the Titans. It was his eighteen birthday soon, and he wanted to show everyone his new costume...After all, he couldn’t be Robin anymore ! 

Jason got along really well with his older brother, and found a place in this world he never thought he would. 

Bruce...Well his children eased the pain in his heart. The pain his parents’ death left behind, and that he thought would never go away. Was it bad, that every year it hurt a little less ? But seeing his children grow...

Damian was almost six now, and growing into such an intelligent little boy. Bruce couldn’t even imagine, what he would’ve gone through, if he had stayed with the Al’Ghuls. 

What kind of little six years old he would be, if it happened that way...

************

Where did Jason go ?

Yes. Jason and Damian were very close. Jason instantly discovered his big brother instincts, and Damian just liked being around him. Because Jay ? He was so funny ! And always willing to play with him !! Even if know he was a big person, fifteen years old, an old man !! 

And so one morning, when Damian woke up and as usual, ran from his room to Jason’s to wake him up by jumping on him...The boy found an empty room, and a bed still made.

Did Jason not come home tonight ? Odd. The first thought that crossed Damian’s mind was to then go find his dad, who would surely know where Jason was ! 

“Daddy ! Daddy !!” 

Bruce wasn’t in bed either, which was odd but also reassuring ? It meant they probably were  both downstairs, having breakfast. 

But when Damian went downstairs, going down the stairs as fast as his little legs could without falling, he only found Alfred, sitting behind the kitchen counter, holding his head in his hands. 

“Fafred ?” 

Damian asked. He never could quite pronounce “Alfred” properly, and everyone just went along with “Fafred”, and it stuck...It was cute. 

The butler jumped up in surprise, and looked at the boy sadly. Why were his eyes wet ? 

“You’re hurt Fafred ?” 

Damian asked, clearly very concerned. Oh. Oh sweet little boy. Alfred wasn’t sure he could handle it. Not right now. He picked the little one up, and sat him in front of him, on the counter. 

Five years old little Damian, almost six ! ; Put his palm on Alfred’s forehead, and said : 

“You’re not hot Fafred, what is it ? Did you fall ? Where does it hurt ? Do you want a magic kiss ? Do you need the hospital ?”

It was adorable, how worried the little one was. It was also unbearable, in this instant. How was he supposed to...What was he supposed to...??

“No, Master Damian, I did not fell.” 

“You okay ? What happened ?” 

“Yes, I am okay.”

“You don’t look okay. What happened ?”

“Old people problems, you know.” 

Alfred couldn’t. He couldn’t say anything. 

Damian looked around, and realized the kitchen was empty. No cereal bowls out, nothing. Which was odd. If Bruce and Jason weren’t in their bed, then they should be down here having breakfast ! That’s how it always was !

“Fafred, where is daddy ?” 

Please Master Damian, please do not ask him this question, do not...

“Where is Zayson ?” 

************

WHERE DID JASON GO ??????

Damian didn’t understand where his big brother Jason went, and why his daddy was so sad all the time now. Of course, he was happy his big brother Dick came back and seem to want to stay for good, but him too, seemed sad whenever he looked at him. 

Why ? Why was Dick always on the verge of crying when his eyes fell on his little brother ? Was it...because he reminded him of Jason’s absence ? 

Damian didn’t understand why everyone was sad, but it was starting to make him very sad too. His little five years old self didn’t understand why was this happening ? 

He wanted Jason. 

Jason always knew for sure how to make him laugh. 

But nobody would tell him where Jason went, and Damian had no idea where to look first !! Maybe in the garden ? No, he went there already, and he didn’t find Jason in their tree house. Neither did he find him at their secret spot, or near the sandbox. Jason would never go near the pond, he knew it was dangerous because he always told Damian not to go. 

Maybe he was in school ? Very busy so he didn’t came back yet ? Oh that was an idea ! Damian suddenly felt excited. Yes. That’s it. Jason must be still at school ! And if Damian went to wait for him at the bus stop, then he would surely appear, right ?!

Enthusiastically, Damian ran at the front door. Everyone around was too out of it to even notice what he was doing. The boy put his shoes on (on the right feet this time), and went to take the chair in the corner of the corridor, dragging it as best he could to the front door so he could hop on it and turn the knob. 

He finally managed it, got down from the chair and opened the door to find...A boy about to ring the doorbell ? 

“Hi there ! I’m Tim ! Is your daddy around ?” 

To be continued...  ---> Part 2 :) clickclickclick

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Here we go. This is part 1/2, I hope you liked it and will want more...Next part will contain more about what changed in Bruce compared to the canon timeline(s) like in more details (sorry I’m writing this very tired and slightly drunk) and more baby Damian, and the arrival, of course, of Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke etc etc...Everyone who has not appeared yet, basically :). I really hope you liked this haha, I’m so nervous...I didn’t talk about the actual BATMAN things yet because this all comes from the view of a kid who is still just 5 so far so ya know :) As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are always much appreciated!

AGES IN THIS TIMELINE (in case you are wondering) : We all know that ages in comics are a mess, especially when it comes to the Batfam. Most canon aging actually make little sense when you try to make up an ACTUAL timeline. So I guess we all have our own preferences and headcanons, which is fine again, given the state of “canon” hints and downright claims (which often contradicts each others btw). I mentioned during the story that I used a post-crisis canon for Dick that puts him around the age of 12 when he’s taken in by Bruce (but again, personal preference = 8). Which means he’s about 12 years older than Damian. He leaves for the Titans age 15/16. So it would make the age difference between him and Jay about 4 years (which is almost canon by a year less), Jay and Damian would then be 8 years apart (same, pretty close but not quite, by two years really :/ then again it depends the canon), Jay and Tim about 3 years apart (pretty much canon), so Damian and Tim about 5 years (again a little less than canon...but then you see what I mean when I say it makes little sense at times ? Hehe). Cass and Damian would be 4 years apart, Duke and Damian 2 years apart (Duke = older), Steph and Damian about 4/3 years like between Tim and Cass I guess, and well Babs is supposedly a little older than Dick so let’s say 13/14 years. Here. Hope that cleared up their age in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. No need to tell me what the canon age are are, we actually aren’t really sure because it changes CONSTANTLY (Damian seems to be the only one that grow up haha and only so he could join the TEEN Titans...But then he’s somehow thrown back in his age so he becomes much younger than aged 17 years old Jon ?! Really, canon age makes no sense and in the end don’t really exist hahahahahahahaha), every head canon is open :). Especially in an AU. 

Also : Let’s give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s ! Thanks to @arianatheangelworld, for the many baby!Damian “imagine” asks you send that fueled my inspiration ! ^^.